“Finally, it’s over,” Gerion said, wiping the sweat from his face. “How long has it been? Six… seven months since we started building new houses?”
His friend, the one missing three fingers, nodded. His gaze swept across the three compounds they had finished. Each house had five empty rooms, still smelling of fresh timber and stone dust. The buildings stood on short columns made of stone and the strange hardened mixture Gundir had created, something like a clay that locked the stones together.
A few Velmoryns from the Brown and Green Tribes had already settled into their new homes ahead of the full migration. Most had come to help with construction, but some simply wanted to secure the best spots, believing those who arrived first would naturally be allowed to claim first.
“They’re all coming today, huh?” the two-fingered man muttered. “All five tribes united as one…”
Gerion nodded, but said nothing. He took in the sight of the new buildings, all connected by packed-earth paths, forming clean compounds. The people from different tribes would be distributed among these houses so no group of tribesmen would be allowed to gather and settle together. That way, they would open up to one another faster, and their sense of belonging would shift - less tied to their old tribes and more toward being part of Eriavel.
“Why didn’t we get new houses?” the two-fingered man grumbled after a moment. “These are so much better than our homes.”
“Stop complaining,” Gerion said with a faint smile. “I’m just glad it’s over. We can finally go back to our old work.”
“Hey, Gerion… I don’t want to go back to what I used to do,” the man said.
“Why?” Gerion frowned, but then his expression brightened as he remembered Tekla’s words. “Are you going to become a builder? But you’re missing three fingers. I had to help with everything that involved nails.”
Gerion let out a booming laugh, though he calmed quickly when his friend didn’t return it.
“I always hated gathering herbs and berries in the forest,” the two-fingered man said, smiling awkwardly. “It made me feel useless, especially when most of the other men hunted beasts or trained to protect the tribe. Gerion, have you ever felt the gaze of someone who is looking down on you? Whenever they passed by me, they’d look at me as though I was worthless… but the way our people are changing now… I never thought the day would come when we would live peacefully together. It makes me believe in myself…”
“I’m not sure about peace,” Gerion said, eyes drifting to one of the wooden plates lying on the ground. A knot in the timber, dark rings circling like a target, bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp. “Have you seen how strict Mirion is when choosing warriors?”
“What warriors? You mean the regular army everyone is talking about?”
“Yes,” Gerion said with a nod. “Why would we need an army in the forest where only our kin and the Velthwyn live… unless we’re preparing for war?”
The two fell silent. Gerion finally sighed and grabbed a brush made from bird feathers.
“Come on. We should paint the roof before sunset. If I’m late again, my woman’s going to nag me,” Gerion said with a full-body shiver, though he still smiled - one of those warm smiles that only comes when someone thinks of home and the comfort waiting there.
But before he could reach for the jar of red paint, several Velmoryns approached with quick, urgent steps. Gerion growled, expecting another group of busybodies coming to bother him, but the newcomers moved right past him without so much as a glance. Normally, they’d stop, inspect the progress, and step inside the new houses just to look around. It was something that genuinely irritated him. But being ignored for once startled him.
“Where are you rushing?” he called after them.
“The Priestess is going to make a declaration…”
…
Tekla stood on the platform she had made Orrvyn create. Lately, whenever she needed help, she turned to the oak tree immediately. It had become so frequent that I was starting to think she might ask it to build houses next.
“Priestess, are you certain about this?” Othrien whispered near her ear. Even as one of the highest-ranking figures among the Velmoryns, and likely one of the oldest as well, he still couldn’t bring himself to touch her or stand too close.
“I am,” Tekla answered, turning toward him with a warm smile. “We must trust our kin. We are not leading mindless beasts. They are fully capable of understanding the severity of our situation and the decisions we were forced to make.”
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Othrien nodded and stepped back, though the tension on his face didn’t ease.
Tekla didn’t mind.
She lifted her staff and moved toward the edge of the platform where the residents of Eriavel had gathered. With every step she took, more eyes followed her, and silence spread through the crowd like a wave, settling over the area in front of the Crimson Guardian.
“Praise be to High Father!” she said and made the gesture.
The crowd reacted immediately. Hundreds of Velmoryns traced my symbol across their chests, chanting my praise. I was used to scenes like this by now, though that didn’t stop the familiar pleasure from rising in me - especially when the blue notifications began to pour in.
[Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.][Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.][Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.] …
“First of all,” Tekla began, and the crowd quieted at once, “I wish to praise all of you for becoming part of Eriavel. For being bold enough to abandon the old, stagnant paths that offered our kin no future, and choosing instead to follow High Father, who will lead our people toward a brighter one.”
More notifications flooded in as Tekla continued speaking.
“But there is another reason I asked you to gather here today. A reason why, instead of exploring your new homes and settling into Eriavel, I asked you to listen to my words.”
She paused, glancing at the Vaels. They nodded back, though not without hesitation.
“Our forest, the place where we were imprisoned for generations, will lose its barrier in one year. That barrier limited us, chained us, and kept us isolated… but it also protected us from what lies beyond.” Her gaze sharpened. “And now that our Lord has granted us freedom and peace, we must guard it. Everything valuable in this world requires care and constant effort to preserve.”
“What does that mean, Priestess?” a Velmoryn near the platform asked. She had no crimson markings on her face.
“You might not have expected the very first thing you hear in Eriavel to be your Priestess telling you there will be war,” Tekla said, her eyes settling on the woman with such focus that the questioner lowered her gaze. “But this was not caused by our settlement, nor by any decision we made. Those who wish to enslave us, to erase us, were not provoked by us. They would have come regardless of what we did.”
The crowd murmured as her words settled, quickly exchanging thoughts before turning back to listen to the Priestess.
“The only thing that would have been different… is us,” Tekla continued. “Had there been no Eriavel, and most importantly, had there been no our Lord, we would still be divided into tribes. We would still be fighting one another, stealing each other’s future, erasing each other’s past.” She lifted her chin slightly. “But we are no longer that.”
The pause she took seemed to increase the tension even more.
“Eriavel. We did not choose the name because it sounded pleasing,” she said proudly. “We chose it because of the meaning behind it. The awakening of Velmoryn. That is what this place is. This is the first land where the divine oak rose by High Father’s will to protect us. This is the first place where our blood awakened. But there will be more.”
Her staff tapped lightly against the platform as she stepped forward. She practically stood on the edge now.
“We will no longer be a frightened, scattered race of those who could have been great. We will become what we are meant to be.” She lifted her head and scanned the crowd, her gaze proud. “We may have been created artificially. We may carry half Elf and half demon blood. But we are neither. We are Velmoryn, guided by the God of Velmoryn. So raise your heads. Embrace our home, embrace our Lord, and dedicate your lives not only to what we have now, but to the future we will build.”
[Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.][Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.][Congratulations, you have gained a new believer and a Divinity Point.] …
The notifications kept flooding in. I hadn’t expected so many to convert during Tekla’s speech.
Wait… how many Divinity Points do I still need to raise my Rank?
Until this moment, I hadn’t bothered to check. The idea of gaining several thousand believers felt unrealistic. But with the rate the numbers were climbing…
[…9152/10000…]
I was close. And the cheering crowd made me think I might actually reach ten thousand.
[9311… 9682… 9831… 9918…]
Then the pace began to slow.
[9989… 9993… 9995… 9997… 9998… 9999]
One more. I needed just one more believer, yet the number stayed still. Never had I been more on edge before. I was so close to raising my Rank…
“God of Velmoryn,” a voice reached me. “I know I’ve sinned. I know I mistreated those who accepted Your mark first… I did all that because I was jealous. I was jealous because my Goddess, the one I dedicated my life to, had not answered my prayers for centuries.”
I shifted the Window immediately, zooming in on the man standing at the edge of the crowd. His face was hidden beneath the hood of a cloak, but even without seeing it, I recognized him.
“I can’t promise to be the most talented in anything. I can’t promise to be the most devoted, nor the one with years ahead to learn what others can. But I beg You… allow me to embrace You. Allow me to feel part of my race again. I swear I’ll dedicate my life to Eriavel. Please… I….”
Teryo dropped to his knees, tears rolling freely down his face. The Velmoryns around him turned, thinking at first that he had collapsed. But then they saw his hands trembling near his eyes as the man’s cries grew louder. The faint markings on his skin had deepened and taken on a crimson hue.