God Raashim stepped forward, his figure wrapped in divine light.
Even as he moved, his feet didn't touch the ground of the altar. He hovered just slightly above it, as if even the sacred platform wasn't worthy of bearing his full presence.
He looked around in silence, his sharp eyes scanning the world that now surrounded him.
There was a softness in his gaze. He felt… nostalgia?
Labh Salem was not God Raashim's ho world. Only his avatar, Shir, had been born here. All these years, Raashim had only seen Labh Salem through Shir's eyes and mories.
It was like finally seeing a beautiful place in person after only knowing it through paintings or books. He had never imagined he would get to witness this world with his own eyes.
One couldn't bla Raashim. Like most Immortals, he remained in his Immortal Domain for the majority of his existence. Stepping out ca with risks—especially the danger of being intercepted by other Immortal enemies.
That kind of exposure could cost even a god dearly.
If not for Shir's unique situation and the witch goddess' surprisingly easy approval—granted without strict conditions—Raashim wouldn't have been able to co here at all.
It felt like a mortal worker, who had only heard about a faraway place through friends or stories, suddenly being sent there on official business. And so, even as a god, Raashim couldn't help but feel a little emotional.
He took a long breath—not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. His Immortal Body didn't require air. It didn't need anything from the physical world.
And yet, he mimicked the motion of a deep inhale, pulling in the scent of the sea, the smoke of mana, and the warm breath of life from Baga Island.
It had been thousands of years since he had last walked this kind of world. Then again, ti was a relative term for an Immortal. Still, he felt like a long ti had passed since he felt the Worldly Laws of Labh Salem trying to leash his Immortality.
Labh Salem was a world that was still far from reaching its peak. A world that breathed.
It would be eons before it was rebirthed.
Yes, like all worlds, Labh Salem would never die.
It would go through a cycle of birth, growth, decay and rebirth. One could say that the mortal worlds followed the laws of mortality they imposed on its denizens.
And at this point, Labh Salem's growth phase had just started.
As such, the Worldly Laws of Labh Salem were still not sothing God Raashim could ignore. He could resist them for a while using the power of the faith as a shield and the witch goddess' tacit understanding as a delaying tactic. But he could not stay in Labh Salem for long.
His Immortal Domain gave him everything—peace, power, comfort. But it was still a place outside the flow of life. Untouched. Unchanging.
Even though he had his followers inside the Divine Kingdom, they couldn't entertain him anymore. He had played "god" with them too many tis.
However, because their souls would be rebirthed inside the Divine Kingdom in a repeated cycle, he felt like he had been playing with the sa old deck of cards for a long ti.
His Immortal Domain lacked the chaos of living energy, the rush of raw and unclaid Elental Attainnts, the scent of a planet still forming itself through cycles of growth and death.
This… this was different. He really felt happy that he had co.
For a mont, he stood still, closing his eyes as if to savor it. Then he exhaled.
The divine energy around him pulsed gently, responding to his breath like a living thing.
But nostalgia didn't stay long. God Raashim opened his eyes and turned his gaze downward.
Kneeling at the edge of the altar was Shir—his avatar, his extension in the mortal world.
The man kept his head lowered, eyes fixed on the ground, not daring to look up until spoken to.
God Raashim floated toward him.
He stopped just before Shir and looked at him with a proud smile.
"You did well, Shir," he said, his voice smooth and calm, yet carrying the weight of mountains. "As expected from my son."
The words carried a strange warmth.
Immortals couldn't sire children the way mortals did. But many of them saw their avatars as their own flesh and blood—extensions of themselves who lived through their will and acted as their hands in the physical world.
There were so pantheons whose divine mbers were only the avatars of the main pantheon deity. Then there were Immortals who would wed together by rging their Immortal Domains together. This couple would then create an avatar that carried the soul essence of both of them.
God Raashim was no different. He genuinely considered Shir to be his son.
Shir bowed lower, his forehead nearly touching the altar.
"Thank you… father," he replied softly.
It felt odd to say it for Shir. After all, he was Raashim, in a way.
But now that his original self stood in front of him, he understood the difference. There was a gap between them—an unbridgeable space of power and presence.
Still, he didn't let the discomfort show.
Immortals were like playwrights who created their own stories and stepped into them as both author and actor. They wore many faces. Played many roles. Sotis, they even stood across from themselves.
At this point, God Raashim existed in three ways in Labh Salem.
The true being—standing here in the flesh, holding the power of a divine ruler.
The loyal avatar—kneeling in reverence, shaped in his image and will.
And the unseen presence—his faith, his divinity, and his connection to his followers.
It moved through the altar, the skies, the sea, and even the hearts of those who still prayed to him.
Together, they ford a whole—one being with three forms, each part of the other, and yet different.
God Raashim looked at Shir once more, placing a gentle hand above his bowed head—not quite touching, but blessing him nonetheless.
"You've brought here through your own efforts. I understand you have so difficulties as re upstarts try to challenge both of us.
Don't worry. Now let show them why gods should never be challenged."
The skies above the altar began to darken. The sea surrounding the island began to churn.
And the divine power of a god that had just quieted down started to gather once more.
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