As the other gods dispersed, leaving Kent surrounded by a powerful aura of divinity, a peculiar stillness filled the atmosphere. The sky, though clearing of the other divine presences, remained filled with an ominous green hue.
Kent, still trying to process the wealth of treasures and power bestowed upon him, suddenly felt a subtle shift in the air. A thick, colorful miasma began to form around him, spiraling slowly until it enclosed him in a screen of toxic vapors.
The scent of bitterness and decay filled his nostrils, and he instinctively clenched his fists, preparing for whatever might come next.
From within the miasma, a figure emerged, moving with a deliberate grace. A cheeky smile played on the lips of the newcomer, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement.
Draped in robes that seemed woven from shadows and smoke, he had an otherworldly presence that sent a shiver down Kent’s spine.
“Well, well, well,” the figure drawled, his voice slick with a dark humor. “If it isn’t the new favorite of the heavens. Quite a show you put on back there.”
Kent narrowed his eyes, assessing the man before him. “Who are you?” he asked, his tone cautious but firm.
The man chuckled, the sound low and resonant. “You can call me the Poison God,” he replied, bowing with exaggerated flourish. “And I must say, your use of poison earlier… masterful. Like a seasoned warrior who knows his craft well.”
Kent’s expression hardened, but there was a hint of curiosity in his gaze. “What do you want, Respected Elder ?”
“Want? Oh, nothing much.” The Poison God waved his hand dismissively. “I simply wished to congratulate you, and perhaps… offer a little gift.”
With a flick of his wrist, the Poison God conjured a tome from the swirling miasma. It was ancient, bound in dark leather that pulsed faintly with an eerie green light.
“This is the complete Poison Tome.” the Poison God said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he handed the thick book to Kent, “It contains the knowledge of every venom, every toxin, every method to corrupt and control through poison.”
Kent accepted the Tome, feeling the weight of its dark power in his hands. His eyes met the Poison God’s, trying to discern the true motive behind this gift.
The Poison God’s smile faded slightly, his expression turning grave. “I have given this Tome to thirty-two individuals before you,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “All of them mastered its contents, but not one of them survived. Their downfall? Greed. The lust for power.
They believed they could rule with poison, but they forgot one crucial truth: the poison was ruling them.” The poison God said with a cryptic and sarcastic tone.
Kent’s grip on the tome tightened, his gaze never leaving the Poison God. “And you’re warning me not to make the same mistake. Is that it, Elder?”
“Precisely.” The Poison God nodded. “You see, poison is a double-edged sword. It can protect, but it can also destroy its wielder. Stay above it, use it wisely, and you might just succeed where others have failed.”
A tense silence fell between them as Kent pondered the Poison God’s words. He could feel the weight of the challenge laid before him, the test of his will and his resolve.
“And if I do succeed?” Kent asked, his voice steady.
A sly smile returned to the Poison God’s lips. “If you succeed, I have a mutual task for us. A mutual benefit, let’s say. But you must first prove yourself worthy by mastering that Tome without succumbing to the poison’s seductive call.”
The Poison God’s eyes bore into Kent’s, searching for any sign of weakness. But Kent met his gaze with unwavering determination. After a moment, the Poison God nodded, as if satisfied.
“I’ll be watching,” he said, his voice a mere whisper as he began to fade back into the miasma. “Don’t disappoint me.”
As the Poison God disappeared, the miasma dissipated, leaving Kent standing alone once more. The weight of the Poison Tome in his hands was now accompanied by the weight of expectation.
Around him, the onlookers watched with curiosity and concern, whispering among themselves about the secret meeting that happened inside the miasma.
But before Kent could dwell too long on the Poison God’s words, a new presence made itself known. The sky, still alight with a strange green hue, suddenly shifted to a brilliant shade of emerald.
Descending from the heavens was a short, stout figure clad in golden armor. His long, flowing beard shimmered with a golden light, and his jovial expression contrasted sharply with the intensity of his arrival.
As the figure approached, Kent recognized him at once—the Fortune God.
But the Fortune God wasn’t here for Kent.
The short, golden-armored deity floated gracefully towards the throne steps where Fatty Ben lay unconscious, still recovering from the intense battle.
The Fortune God hovered over him, his gaze softening as he studied the unconscious figure. With a wave of his hand, he lifted Fatty Ben into the air, bringing him to eye level.
Fatty Ben stirred, his eyelids fluttering open as he regained consciousness. He blinked in confusion, his gaze meeting the Fortune God’s with wide, startled eyes.
“Who—who are you?” Fatty Ben stammered, his voice shaky with awe.
The Fortune God chuckled warmly, patting Fatty Ben on the back. “I am the Fortune God,” he announced, his voice rich with kindness. “And you, my dear boy, have caught my eye.”
Fatty Ben’s confusion deepened, but he couldn’t help but smile at the Fortune God’s genial demeanor. “Why me?”
The Fortune God grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Fortune has a way of finding those who most expect it in a rightful way,” he said, before placing a finger on Fatty Ben’s forehead.
A thin streak of golden light appeared, forming a mark that radiated with a soft glow.
The onlookers gasped, their whispers growing louder as they tried to comprehend what they were witnessing. Kent, too, watched with keen interest, wondering what the Fortune God had in store for his companion.
As the mark settled into Fatty Ben’s skin, Fatty felt something changed about himself.
“Don’t worry, I just changed something in your fate.” The fortune god said while placing his hands inside side pockets below his armor.
The Fortune God produced three items. A small, intricately carved key and a large golden key and a miniature fortune temple from within his golden robes. It shimmered with an otherworldly light, clearly a divine artifact of immense value.
“This small key is the Key of Prosperity. Keep it close, and it will take you and open doors to untold wealth and success. But remember, true fortune lies not in riches, but in the choices you make.” The Fortune God said, handing the key to Fatty Ben.
Fatty Ben accepted the key with trembling hands, his eyes wide with disbelief. He looked up at the Fortune God, overwhelmed by the unexpected blessing.
“Thank you,” Fatty Ben whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
The Fortune God smiled gently, giving Fatty Ben a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning his attention to Kent. For a moment, their eyes met, and the Fortune God’s smile widened.
“Take care of him. He’s a lucky one, but even the luckiest need good companions.” The Fortune God said to Kent, his tone light but laced with a deeper meaning.
With that, the Fortune God gave a final nod to Fatty, his form gradually fading into the emerald light that surrounded him.
For the moment, he glanced over at Fatty Ben, who was still staring in awe at the golden key in his hand, Kent allowed himself a brief smile.
The moment the Fortune God disappeared, the atmosphere within the War God Temple came to normal.
Fatty Ben stood frozen, clutching the large key-like object in his hand, his wide eyes filled with both awe and confusion. He blinked, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what had just transpired.
Experience tales at empire
Kent, observing his friend’s stunned expression, finally broke the silence. “Fatty, what is that?”
Fatty Ben turned the object over in his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. “I… I’m not sure,” he mumbled, still dazed.
Just then, a rich, warm voice echoed in his mind. The Fortune God’s presence briefly returned, as though he had left behind an echo of his laughter. “That large key, my dear boy, is a Dimensional Key,” the Fortune God explained, his voice filled with mirth. “With it, you can travel between realms and the spirit world for a limited time. A rare gift indeed—use it wisely.”
Fatty’s eyes widened, his mind racing with the possibilities. “Travel… between realms?” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He looked up, as if expecting the Fortune God to reappear, but the sky had returned to its normal hue, the divine presence finally faded.
But the Fortune God had more to say. His voice rang out again, this time resonating within Fatty’s very soul. “This is a Temple of Fortune. It can hold an infinite amount of space within, and partially filled with treasures, mana stones, and wealth beyond measure. A token of my favor.”
Fatty’s hands trembled as he stared at the finger sized miniature temple, his heart pounding with a mix of gratitude and disbelief.
He dropped to his knees, bowing deeply to the Fortune God with a voice choked with emotion. “Thank you, my lord! Thank you! I will cherish these gifts and use them wisely!”
The Fortune-God’s laughter echoed once more, filled with warmth and affection. “Rise, young warrior. I have altered your fate, making you not only a man of fortune but also a great warrior. Use your fortune to protect, to grow, and to stand by your Master, the one destined to carry the legacy of War God.”