The tension in the air was palpable as Percy stared at the grinning pentapus, contemplating how heād been played. He didnāt doubt Metatron truly intended to win him over eventually. Still, the ancient titan had plenty to gain even in the meantime.
āShould I destroy the monkeyās soul before I go?ā
Percy was certain Metatron could repair his hostās body and soul if he just abandoned the creature at the verge of death like he usually did. Though he could probably prevent that, by actively using what little fused mana he had left, intentionally tearing the soul to shreds.
But he shook his head.
āItās best to not antagonize him directly.ā
Metatron wasnāt dumb. If Percy did this right now, the titan might take it personally. At best, he could ensure his future hosts died āaccidentallyā inside the challenges, and that he didnāt use anything too sensitive while inside the Vault.
āActually, is that why he admitted he wants the monkey? So that I wouldnāt dare destroy it?ā
The realization sent a chill down Percyās spine. It appeared that no matter what Metatron did, there was always a deeper meaning behind it. Regardless of what Percy chose, the titan would come out ahead.
āDonāt beat yourself up too much, kid.ā Metatron spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts. āIāve been around for a while longer than you have. Just say the word, and all my knowledge and experience will be at your disposal.ā
āThanks for your offerā¦ā Percy spat begrudgingly, his face looking like heād just swallowed a fly. āIāll consider it.ā
Metatron shrugged, before turning around, slithering away. However, he spoke again before fading into the distance.
āOh, and thereās one more thing. Ask the cube for information on āacquired blessingsā before you leave the Vault. I wonāt charge you any credits for this one. Consider it a welcome gift ā a tiny sample of the things we could achieve togetherā¦ā the titanās voice trailed off.
Only a few minutes after the pentapus disappeared from his sight did Percy plop down weakly on the floor, his body coated in a layer of cold sweat. Heād tried his best to stand his ground against the ancient being, but he understood heād done a poor job at it.
āI need to be more careful moving forward.ā
His access to the Vault was an unprecedented opportunity, but also the deadliest of traps. Should he fumble, heād lose everything.
Gabe too
. Percy wouldnāt forget that Metatron was essentially holding his friend hostage, though neither had seen fit to bring it up during their little chat.
āLetās focus on what I can do right now.ā
he ultimately decided, placing his palm against the nearest wall.
āCube. Give me all your information on āacquired blessingsā. User ID: WANDERER.ā he spoke, recalling how Gabe had done this in the past.
A circle of runes lit up around his palm, though it flashed silver this time, probably scanning his soul as Metatron had mentioned.
āAuthorization granted. Evaluating requestā¦ā
Truth be told, this was the first time Percy even heard of acquired blessings. According to his understanding, the only way to obtain one was to inherit it directly from a god. Clearly, what Metatron was giving him was quite an esoteric piece of knowledge.
āEvaluation complete. There is 1 book, 57 research logs, 1 encyclopaedia and 9457349 news reports that mention āacquired blessingsā. Part of the selection is restricted for your grade. Only 0 books, 0 research logs, 0 encyclopaedias and 0 news reports are available for purchase. Total cost: 0 credits. Current balance: 0.ā ļæ½
Percyās jaw slackened at the result. Was this some kind of joke? He was about to curse, but the system spoke again.
āNOTIFICATION: User has been granted special authorization to view 1 book on subject āacquired blessingsā free of charge. View now?ā
āYes.ā he nodded. āPlease deliver it in hard-copy format.ā
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
He knew he was probably just playing into the titanās hands again, but he couldnāt contain his curiosity.
āChoice confirmed. Printing book: āThe Tale of Svarogā. Delivery in 24 rits.ā
Soon, Percy held a thick tome in his hands, still giving off some warmth. Wanting nothing more than to finish his business in the Vault and get the hell out of here, he quickly dove right in, ignoring the occasional passerby giving him a curious look. If there was one silver lining to this whole mess, it was the fact that he didnāt have to worry about the mortals giving him any trouble. He doubted Metatron would allow anybody to interfere in his project.
āLetās see what this is all about thenā¦ā
he thought, focusing on the text.
At least Percy was a fast reader, and the translation device made him feel as if he was reading in his native language. A few hours into the book, his stomach began to protest, though he just ignored it. As far as he was concerned, whatever happened to the body from here on was Metatronās problem. That said, only part of his persistence was brought about by his desire to get this over with. Another part was due to finding the tale genuinely interesting.
Apparently, there once was a god called Svarog, who made waves in the cosmos due to his immense power. While he hadnāt been a titan originally, many titans fell by his hand as he roamed the universe seeking thrills and adventures.
But Svarog was an oddity among gods in more ways than one.
Most deities tended to mate unscrupulously, often siring hundreds ā
if not thousands
ā
of children. However, that wasnāt what Svarog had done. He only ever loved a single, mortal woman, fathering one son.
Just one
. And he cherished this only child of his most dearly, to the point he would gladly lay his very life down for him if need be.
Consequently, Svarog only had two regrets in his entire existence. The first was having to watch his beloved wife and son age and wither before his eyes, unable to prevent it. And not for a lack of trying. No matter what he did, he couldnāt fight against time itself.
āEven Svarog failedā¦ā
Percy couldnāt help but clench his teeth after reading that part. Was this why Metatron had given him the book? But he shook his head, diving back into the tale.
Svarogās second regret was that his son hadnāt inherited a blessing from him. He had to spend his whole life as little more than a common mortal, not a trace of divinity apparent in his magic. Unwilling to see his progeny cursed with such a cruel fate, destined to live such a mundane life, Svarog worked tirelessly to change that. He desperately sought a way to grant his son a blessing! Other gods called him a fool for even trying. This was a feat they all deemed impossible. Still, Svarog persisted, inching closer to his goal with every passing decade.
Unfortunately, before Svarog had the chance to succeed, one of his old enemies slaughtered his family in revenge, robbing them of the few years they had left. But that didnāt stop Svarog. It only motivated him to press on. Driven mad by rage, he finally completed his project, forging a Decree that shook the whole universe, bringing about one of the most terrifying wars in the history of all creation.
Svarogās Decree was as much as a means of granting a blessing to a mortal, as it was a lethal weapon forged out of hatred and spite. Unlike other Decrees like Phoebeās or Metatronās, this one took the form of a physical object ā an unassuming ring mould. Yet, its bone-chilling effect prompted outrage from every deity across the cosmos.
The mould could be used to slay a god, subjecting them to a fate most cruel. It refined their flesh and soul, distilling their very
understanding
of magic into substance, condensing it into a ring. And once worn, this ring could let a mortal wield the slain deityās most prized concept ā effectively giving them a blessing. Even worse, the mortal could slowly acclimate to the new concept over time. Eventually, they could fully absorb the power into their being, so that they could wield it even without the ring.
Blinded by wrath, Svarog then hunted down the one who slighted him, torturing him to death. But he didnāt stop there, targeting the manās associates next. Soon, he slaughtered them too, but he still wasnāt satisfied. Too great was his pain.
Too bitter his loss
. He kept going after more gods, butchering them one after the other, drowning his grief with bloodā¦
99 gods the newly emerged titan hunted to quell his fury.
And 99 rings he crafted in total, one from each of his unfortunate victims.
The very notion of killing a
god
to give a mortal
anything
ā let alone a blessing ā was viewed as the ultimate blasphemy. After all, mortals were supposed to
worship
gods, not the other way around.
Thus, the
99 Rings of Sacrilege
gained their name.
Raising arms in outrage, countless gods from countless words banded together to punish Svarog for his grave sin. Using the 99 slain deities as the excuse, they laid waste to anything the titan held dear. However, their righteous campaign was nothing but a front for their true purposeā¦
After all, mortals werenāt the only ones who could wield the Rings of Sacrilege. Gods could wear them as well, mastering concepts they hadnāt touched before. Ironically, the number of casualties in the resulting war over the rings utterly dwarfed Svarogās victims. The scars left behind by the War of Hypocrites never truly healed. Entire worlds were destroyed, thousands of races having gone extinct.
As for the ring mould ā Svarogās Decree?
It shattered at some point, ensuring that no more rings could ever be crafted. Nobody knew how or why that happened, but one thing was for certain. No one ever managed to replicate Svarogās feat. Not before, nor since. As for the instigator of the war himself, he seemingly vanished from the cosmos, never again to be seen. Some theorized he was dead, others that he was still hiding somewhere to this day.
And the ringsā¦
the 99 Rings of Sacrilege
ā¦ The war scattered them throughout the cosmos, most of them lost for countless ages. By now, many of them had been found, a new war occurring every time that happened. Most of those ended up in the coffers of the largest factions in the universe.
But not all of them.
Plenty were still missing, their fate unknownā¦