Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Orphease
Upon the accursed Seat of the Damned I rest, a bastion of dread and annihilation that would set the hardiest soul quaking in trepidation. You may ponder, how did a mere mortal like myself attain such immeasurable might? The response is elementary - I vanquished a deity.
Orphease, the sinister God of Ruin and Obliteration, had long plagued my existence. He deceived me, endeavored to end my life, and even extorted souls from me. But no longer. I severed his head and presented it to his craven disciples and priests, proving that their so-called divinity was nothing but a decaying carcass in comparison to my prowess.
And then, I committed the unspeakable. I devoured his heart, transcending mortality and becoming a newfound deity. The power coursed through me like a maelstrom, granting me the fortitude to rule with a grip of iron and the capability to obliterate any who dared defy me. It bestowed upon me horns and ebon wings, but also ignited a hunger, an insatiable craving for brutality and devastation.
Some assert it was vengeance that steered me into this maelstrom of insanity, but I know the truth. It had always been there, smoldering just beneath the surface. The fury within me blazed like an inferno that could never be quenched. But now, I have an outlet for this raging tempest.
As I repose upon this profane throne, I gaze upon my domain. The atmosphere is heavy with the stench of death and putrefaction, and the heavens are awash in a sanguine hue, a perpetual memento of the slaughter that has transpired.
But I am not solitary. My devoted adherents, equally unhinged, prostrate themselves before me, prepared to execute my every command. They alone comprehend the power that pulses through my veins, the exhilaration of slaying without compunction.
And as I survey my realm, I know that my dominion shall be enduring and bathed in gore. For I am Leon Cross, the harvester of souls, dreaded by all who utter my name. And I shall be unrelenting in my quest to maintain my sovereignty upon the Throne of the Damned.
My tale commences in a city of squalor and corruption, Ravenside. A festering pit teeming with thieves, ruffians, mercenaries, and traders. By daylight, the avenues lay desolate, but under the cloak of night, they swarmed with society's vermin. It was a haven for the nefarious and the bane of the innocent.
I was but a stripling, a frail and wiry youth, with raven locks that veiled my eyes and skin speckled with freckles. I subsisted on the refuse from alleyway garbage bins and pilfered from the unwary who traversed the streets.
But I was not devoid of hope. I beseeched the false gods, daring to dream they would one day deliver me from my wretched plight. I was unyielding and dauntless, even though I knew I was often outmatched.
The nights were rife with pandemonium and bloodshed. I witnessed homicide over games of chance, blades clashing with firearms, and crimson torrents flooding the streets and seeping into the sewers. It was a realm where a child had no hope of survival, let alone the opportunity to thrive.
The heavens were smothered by noxious fumes, eclipsing the celestial bodies and leaving only the lunar orb to drift above the looming monoliths. It was a metropolis where the affluent flourished while the destitute were left to languish and perish.
But even amid the all-consuming darkness, I refused to surrender. I was a survivor, a youth with a will of iron and a heart of obsidian. And one day, I would rise above the desolation, claiming what was rightfully mine and leaving a path of gore and devastation in my wake.
By the time I had seen fourteen winters, I had already endured a lifetime on the cruel streets of Ravenside. I was a seasoned veteran in the art of survival, having fended off brutish thugs with naught but my bare fists and purloined blades. It had honed in me a keen sense for combat that would serve me well in the years that followed.
Yet, there were other marvels that ensnared my attention within that grimy metropolis. The sky-borne pirate galleons that descended from the heavens, their sails embellished with gargantuan skulls and other diabolical sigils, heralding the arrival of diverse crews and gangs. And the mercenaries, with their sleek space jets that tore through the firmament like bolts of celestial fire. They were unlike anything I had ever beheld, and I often found myself pondering the existence beyond the confines of the city, in the boundless expanse of the cosmos.
The notion of traversing diverse planets and realms seemed naught but an unattainable fantasy, a privilege reserved solely for the affluent and mighty. Yet, I refused to relinquish that dream.
As I lay shivering upon a heap of discarded cardboard deep within the bowels of a forsaken alleyway, the world around me a labyrinth of shadows and decay, I unwittingly succumbed to a fitful slumber, for it was then that an otherworldly voice beckoned me.
"You must surely tire of this trivial existence, do you not, Leon?" The voice resonated, deep and sonorous, ethereal in essence, sending frissons cascading down my spine as though a malevolent force loomed over my dormant form.
Alarmed and disoriented, I bolted upright, my heart pounding as I scrutinized my surroundings, but none were present. "Who are you? And how do you know my name?" I inquired, my voice quavering as I endeavored to remain composed amid such unnerving uncertainty.
A sinister, menacing laughter reverberated around me, imbuing the alleyway with a spine-chilling aura of dread. "Ignorant child," the voice thundered. "Do you not recognize that you stand in the presence of a god?"
My heart faltered as I grasped that I was not alone. "Which deity addresses me?" I challenged, striving to feign courage even as terror engulfed me.
And then, from the abyss, a figure materialized. It was a colossal behemoth of a man, garbed in tarnished knight's armor, with a thick pelt draped about his formidable shoulders. His helmet obscured his visage, but his smoldering scarlet eyes penetrated my soul, scorching me with an intensity that left me exposed and vulnerable.
Within his grasp, he wielded a prodigious sword, the blade itself the length of a grown man, which glowed with a pulsating crimson aura that seemed to throb with its own vitality. And then, to my horror, I discerned that the sword was lamenting, muttering some manner of sinister incantation that chilled my blood.
"More... we require more..." the sword murmured, its voice an unholy fusion of agony and avarice.
"Who are you? Answer me!" I bellowed, my trepidation giving way to wrath as I battled to regain control of the situation. "If you've come to slay me, then proceed! My absence will scarcely be noticed!"
But the shadowy deity merely cackled, his voice resonating throughout the alleyway like a cacophonous tempest. "Ah, Leon," he intoned, his voice laden with menace. "You have not the slightest inkling of the power you harbor, or, rather, the power you shall soon wield. You are but a pawn in a grander scheme, a mere mortal selected for a higher calling."
With those portentous words echoing in my ears, the dark god advanced, his sword brandished aloft, and I understood that I was in for the confrontation of a lifetime.
As I lay supine upon the cold ground, gazing up at the formidable figure towering above me, my heart palpitated with a mélange of trepidation and veneration. The God's crimson eyes gleamed in the faint illumination, as if possessing the power to pierce my very soul. I realized then that this was no ordinary entity. This was Orphease, the God of Doom and Destruction, a being whose mere presence incited both reverence and terror.
The sword in his grasp radiated with an otherworldly luminescence, its potency discernible even from my prone position. Yet, to my astonishment, he refrained from using it to end my existence. Instead, he drove it deep into the earth, eliciting an ominous thrum. The sword wailed and beseeched for more, its fury and voracity nearly tangible.
The God's laughter reverberated through the alleyway, sending shudders down my spine. His mirth was palpable, and I could sense his power emanating from him like undulating waves. I knew then that I stood before something transcending my comprehension.
In this realm, myriad Gods existed, each wielding their own powers and harboring their own motives. But Orphease was a God that scarce few dared to summon. He was capricious, his actions dictated by an enigmatic force that defied human understanding. And yet, here he stood, selecting me for some cryptic purpose.
I was aware that I should tread warily, for this God was not one to be trifled with. But even as I quivered with fear, a part of me could not suppress my fascination. What did he desire of me? And what manner of power might he bestow upon me in exchange?
Orphease's voice resonated within the dimly lit alleyway, each utterance laden with a potency that caused my very bones to shudder. I was paralyzed, incapable of movement or even drawing breath as the God of Doom and Destruction addressed me. "Leon Cross, henceforth, you shall serve as my instrument, my harbinger, the herald of all that is doomed," he proclaimed, his sanguine eyes boring into my own. "You will execute my edicts, and I shall endow you with strength that surpasses your wildest imaginings. When you beseech me, I shall grant you the means to mend your wounds or bestow upon you a sorcerous incantation to vanquish your adversaries."
Summoning the courage to speak, my voice trembled with fear. "Why me?" I inquired, incapable of fathoming why a deity as mighty as Orphease would deign to involve a mere mortal such as myself.
"Why not?" Orphease countered, his laughter reverberating through the alley. "You have naught to live for in this wretched existence. Do you not yearn for more than this life?"
In response to his query, Orphease raised his hand, revealing a gold ring adorned with a colossal ruby at its center, encircled by two dragons clutching the gem between their fearsome jaws. "This is my sigil, Leon," he declared. "Take it and wear it always. I am now YOUR GOD."
The ring's weight pressed into my palm as I hesitantly accepted it, the metal frigid against my flesh. I was ignorant of what my newfound role as Orphease's Will would demand, but I recognized that I had been ensnared in a dark and perilous world far surpassing my wildest imaginings. The God's sword throbbed with a life of its own, a perpetual reminder of the formidable power now at my disposal.
As the ring slid onto my finger, a surge of energy jolted through me, akin to a lightning bolt searing my very essence. The power radiating from the ring was immense, enticing me to wield its sinister energy. It was as though the ring possessed a consciousness, whispering to me with a voice solely for my ears.
The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, akin to teetering at the brink of an abyss with naught but the void before me. I was suspended in a moment of rapture, sensing the cosmic tide coursing through my veins, awakening a dormant power I never knew I harbored.
In that instant, I grasped that the world was no longer as I had known it. It was a domain of formidable Gods and cosmic forces, each harboring their own intentions and desires. The ring had unveiled a newfound understanding within me, a revelation that I was now an element of something grander than myself.
As the euphoric wave enveloped me, I could not suppress a lingering sense of dread. I had become a pawn in Orphease's machinations, shackled by his will and subject to his command. The power I now wielded was a double-edged blade, capable of enacting immense good or unleashing catastrophic evil.
Yet the intoxicating allure of power was too potent to resist, and I found myself succumbing to its nefarious enchantment. I was prepared to embrace my role as the harbinger of doom, to execute Orphease's bidding and revel in the ensuing pandemonium.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone