"As expected of the elves' supreme relic," Adrian murmured, his gaze fixed upon the radiant pool before him. "Its power truly defies words."
Even among demigod treasures, the Holy Fountain of Life stood apart. It was no mere enhancement of the lesser Fountain of Life—every facet of its nature was elevated beyond comparison. The essence it produced shimmered with divinity, its every drop thrumming with the pulse of creation itself.
If the common Fountain of Life could heal wounds and mend broken flesh, then the essence of this holy spring could pull a soul back from the brink of death. So long as one's heart still fluttered with the faintest breath of life, the Fountain's waters could restore it.
For Adrian Cross, the implications were staggering.
With this single relic, the armies of his faith would be nearly immortal. His followers would rise again and again from the ashes of battle. No wound would linger; no disease would claim them.
And there was more.
When consumed regularly, the waters of the Holy Fountain of Life strengthened the body, enhancing vitality, endurance, even fertility. Tribes blessed by it would multiply swiftly, each new life another candle of devotion burning for their god.
Adrian's lips curled into a quiet, satisfied smile. More followers… more faith… more power.
He rubbed his palms together, eyes glittering. Yet, what truly stirred his excitement were the final, hidden properties of the Fountain—features whispered of even among the gods themselves.
It could attract divine creatures.
Such beings were the children of the heavens—descendants of the gods—bearing fragments of divinity in their blood. Some walked the mortal realm in secrecy; others slept in the deep wilds, legends bound in flesh. Their powers defied natural law. A single divine beast could turn the tide of nations.
But Adrian's mind was already chasing a far darker possibility.
If I could slay one… extract its divinity… His breath quickened. Then I could forge a priesthood of my own.
For with enough divine essence, a god could shape their own dominion of power—form, element, and belief all interwoven into eternal law.
Even the weakest divine creature, however, was an epic-level existence. For most mortals—or even young gods—they were untouchable.
Still, when Adrian's gaze drifted over the luminous waters, a thought whispered through his mind.
"Could this holy spring… draw forth the legendary unicorns?"
He let the question linger, half a jest, half a yearning hope. The unicorn was sacred to the elven pantheon—an emblem of purity, grace, and life. For one to appear would be nothing short of a miracle.
Adrian forced the thought aside and turned to the last enigma of the Fountain—the resonance between holy relics.
He suspected that the Holy Fountain of Life might share a connection with another divine treasure: the Tree of Life. Together, they could amplify one another, multiplying their blessings beyond measure. Yet, the Tree was rarer still, its roots known to take hold only in the realms of true demigods or higher.
"In my previous life," Adrian murmured, "I heard that a half-elf goddess on Blue Star managed to claim the Tree of Life… perhaps the same one worshipped by the forest deity."
He filed the memory away, the thought glowing like a buried ember.
Drawing upon his divine power, Adrian gestured, and the radiant spring descended gently behind his altar. A rush of vitality swept outward, spreading like a living tide. From the stone basin, pure spring water bubbled forth, releasing threads of shimmering light into the air.
Within moments, the entire Gelb tribe was enveloped in a lush fragrance of life. Flowers bloomed anew, trees straightened their weary trunks, and the air itself seemed to sing.
Elder goblins, bent with age, felt the weight of years lift from their limbs. Gnolls, scarred from countless hunts, found their pain dulled and their spirits kindled. Murmurs rose among them—astonishment, joy, worship.
Then, as one, they knelt.
"The great Gnoll God of Slaughter," they cried, their voices trembling. "Praise be to you! You are the sun above us—our protector, our guiding flame!"
Their prayers rose like a storm. The divine link between faith and god pulsed with new energy.
> [Log]: You have bestowed the Gelb Tribe with the Holy Fountain of Life.
Result: Tribal vitality greatly increased!
[Log]: Your believers' gratitude surges. Faith Power +21,359 threads.
Adrian's smile deepened. The Holy Fountain's true effects would unfold slowly over time, its blessings layering upon the tribe generation after generation. For now, its spiritual resonance was enough.
He turned his thoughts inward.
The Divine Interface
> True Name: Adrian Cross
God Name: Korrhaz, the Bloodfather
Title: Gnoll God of Slaughter
Divine Domains: Gnoll (0.2%), Killing (0.002%)
Pantheon: Chaos Gods
Rank: First-Turn Demigod (0/5)
Talent: Infinite Evolution (Master Level)
Divine Power: 0
Faith Power: 1.1 million
Believers: 312 (100 Gnolls, 212 Goblins)
Racial Relic: Holy Fountain of Life
> Believer Status
Saint: 0
Apostles: 2
Fanatics: 98
Devout: 1
Fervent: 13
Casual: 198
Even in a few hours, the transformation was remarkable.
Belief spread like wildfire through his domain. Already, his passive daily prayers yielded over 120,000 threads of faith—a steady stream of divine energy flowing into his grasp.
Most new gods, Adrian knew, were lucky to earn a few hundred threads a day at this stage. He was advancing hundreds of times faster.
A perfect start, he thought, satisfaction swelling in his chest.
He surveyed the shimmering strands of faith, their golden light weaving through his realm like fine silk. The sum total—1.1 million—was enough to refine into a trace of divine power, with some left over for future growth.
Adrian took a breath and sat cross-legged upon the marble floor of his divine domain.
"Refine the power of faith."
The air trembled. Streams of light spiraled toward him, threads of belief drawn from countless mortal hearts. They twined together, condensed, and compressed—until all that remained was a sphere of blinding radiance.
The first trace of divine power was born.
Adrian inhaled sharply as the energy merged with his essence. His divine body flared with light, thunder flickering across his arms, his eyes gleaming like molten gold. For a heartbeat, he felt he could crush mountains in his grasp.
Even as a mere demigod, the strength coursing through him was intoxicating.
"No wonder it felt so real before," he whispered. "This… is true power."
Four such traces would elevate him to a second-turn demigod—a process that once took players years. For Adrian, it might take mere weeks.
Then came a soft chime.
> System Notice: Dear player, you have been active for 12 hours. For the next 12 hours, direct communion with believers will be unavailable.
During this period, you may remain in your Divine Realm or travel to the City of Gods.
Adrian blinked, momentarily disoriented. Had it truly been twelve hours already? Time had slipped away in the rhythm of creation and faith.
The rules of Eternal Ascendancy were unlike any other game he'd known. A player could remain logged in indefinitely—but only half the cycle allowed direct interaction with the mortal world. The other half—the night phase—was reserved for the gods themselves.
During those twelve "divine hours," players could either cultivate their own domains or travel to the fabled City of Gods, where trade, alliances, and divine politics flourished.
Meanwhile, in the mortal realm, time accelerated. Twelve hours of divine absence equaled nine and a half days on the Eternal Continent.
Thus, for every single day on Blue Star, ten days would pass below.
It was a brilliant equilibrium: mortals lived, built, and prayed; gods watched, rested, and grew.
Still, there remained one exception. If a believer faced a mortal crisis, their desperate prayers could pierce even the veil of separation—summoning their god in moments of dire need.
It was a safeguard. A mercy.
Adrian reached out with his divine sense, testing the boundaries of the veil, but found it firm and unyielding. The mortal world was now beyond his reach until dawn.
He exhaled, accepting it without concern. He had experienced this countless times before—though, in his previous life, he had been the hunted, not the hunter.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Then… it's time."
He rose, his divine form bathed in crimson light, and turned toward the shimmering gate at the edge of his domain. Beyond it lay the City of Chaos, known among players and gods alike as the Chaos City—a place where divinities met without mortal masks, where deals were struck in faith and blood.
It was the beating heart of the Chaos Pantheon, a sprawling sanctuary of ambition, deception, and opportunity. There, gods traded relics, forged pacts, and sometimes destroyed one another under the guise of diplomacy.
Adrian straightened his divine mantle and glanced once more at the glowing spring behind him. Its waters continued to ripple, gentle and eternal, sending waves of vitality through the land.
His gnolls and goblins would thrive.
And perhaps, if fortune favored him, a divine creature—maybe even a unicorn—would one day appear beside that sacred pool.
"Let the mortals dream," he murmured. "I have work to do."
And with that, the God of Slaughter stepped into the light.
> Destination: Chaos City.