I Tricked a God

The sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky above the military camp in shades of orange and crimson.

As twilight deepened, lanterns and crystal lamps lit up one after another throughout the grounds, gradually driving back the encroaching darkness.

At that moment, in the northern part of the camp, there was a small dome-shaped mana barrier covering a patch of ground only about a dozen paces across.

At first glance, there was nothing remarkable about the place.

Beneath the translucent dome lay only a small depression in the ground, from which a stone staircase descended, while several Soulbound Mage stood guard around it, vigilantly watching the surrounding area.

At that very moment, Kael stood before the descent.

Adjusting the black uniform, which differed noticeably from the usual clothing worn by members of the Doomgrin Squad, he gazed thoughtfully at the steps leading underground.

The uniform was looser, devoid of any insignia, and looked far simpler than the uniforms worn by the frontline combat mages.

The only symbol was a red dragon embroidered on his chest, showing that he was no ordinary soldier, but a true member of the army.

Several of the mages guarding the perimeter merely glanced at him in silence.

Without saying a word, Kael straightened his back and strode forward.

Gradually, his silhouette disappeared from view, swallowed by the gloom of the descending staircase.

Watching him go, one of the mages guarding the perimeter—a dark-skinned woman with dark green hair—narrowed her eyes slightly.

She waited until Kael disappeared down the stairs, then muttered, “What the hell? Why did they send some green kid here? Is this a joke?”

Her partner standing beside her—an incredibly pale man with short hair—merely nudged her with his elbow.

“Watch your tongue. Morkroft and Astrid sent him here.”

“What?” the woman said in disbelief.

Moving a little closer, the man lowered his voice to a whisper, “That kid is the Kael everyone’s been talking about lately.”

At those words, the woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“That training-obsessed fanatic who reached the forty-first floor of the Tower?”

The pale man immediately nodded.

“That’s him.”

Glancing toward the staircase leading underground, the man added with noticeable respect, “There are also rumors that he’s somehow connected to General Salazar himself.”

“Salazar?” the woman repeated.

“Yeah.”

Shrugging, the man snorted.

“So you’d better be extra nice to him. That kid might very well become some kind of big shot someday...”

✦ ✦ ✦

And while the soldiers gossiped behind his back, Kael himself had already descended quite deep underground.

The stone staircase continued downward, disappearing somewhere into the depths of the dungeon. Massive gray stonework stretched along both sides, while the arched ceiling loomed overhead, creating the impression that he was not beneath a military camp, but inside some ancient fortress.

However, something else caught Kael’s attention almost immediately.

Every brick was covered with inscribed symbols and magic circles that glowed faintly in the gloom.

The farther he descended, the more often his gaze caught on new details.

“For a field installation, these are first-rate defenses...” Kael thought, his gaze sliding over yet another interweaving of runes. “I didn’t think there was a place like this in the military camp.”

Recalling Morkroft’s words, as well as the instructions of several senior officers who had briefed him on the assignment beforehand, Kael mentally repeated, “My official role is simply to monitor their condition and send signals at the appropriate time...”

Continuing to think about it, Kael noticed that the staircase ahead was finally coming to an end, so he quickened his pace slightly.

And less than a minute later, the main chamber of the dungeon opened up before him.

The chamber was circular.

Several cells lined the rounded walls, separated by thick metal bars and layers of protective inscriptions, while a large crystal shone just beneath the ceiling, flooding the space with an even white light.

Most of the cells were empty, and only three of them held prisoners.

Right in the center of the room stood a massive table cluttered with papers, several communication talismans, and a thick notebook in which a burly man with short black hair was writing something.

And the moment the man heard footsteps behind him, he immediately turned around.

Noticing Kael, the guard smiled broadly and, leaning back in his chair, said, “Finally! Thanks for coming to relieve me, kid. I’m already dying of boredom in here.”

And with a quiet laugh at his own joke, the man immediately rose to his feet so quickly that it seemed he had no desire to spend a single extra minute in this dungeon.

Walking around the table and heading toward Kael, he held out his hand.

“If they’re dying of thirst or hunger, activate the corresponding magic circle and don’t let them die,” the guard began, indicating the inscriptions near the cells with a glance. “If they start causing trouble or acting suspiciously—use the communication talisman and report it to your superiors immediately.”

Coming closer, the man nodded toward the book lying on the table.

“And don’t forget to make entries. Inspection times, the prisoners’ condition, any changes in behavior. Nothing complicated.”

Shaking the man’s hand, Kael merely nodded.

However, the moment the briefing was over, the guard clapped him on the shoulder, turned around, and headed toward the staircase at a near run.

“They’re constantly whispering about something; that’s normal!” he shouted as he went. “Don’t waste talismans on every little thing, or you’ll get reprimanded!”

His voice continued echoing through the stone vaults for several more seconds.

“And don’t forget to make entries!”

“Got it,” Kael called back.

But the man was no longer listening.

Continuing swiftly up the stairs, he disappeared from sight so quickly that it seemed he was afraid someone might change their mind and make him stay for another shift.

Watching this, Kael merely smiled crookedly and muttered, “Apparently, this isn’t a particularly popular job...”

But before he could finish, a disgruntled mutter came from the central cell, “Varem jorak... ren-kora. Tash morun.”

And almost immediately, their meaning surfaced in Kael’s mind: “Now our guard... is a pathetic child. What a disgrace.”

Looking up, Kael finally took a proper look at the prisoners.

Until then, his attention had been focused on the dungeon itself, the protective inscriptions, and the guard’s explanations.

In the central cell sat a large black-furred beastman.

Even in captivity, he looked imposing. His long mane was braided into several thick plaits, fastened at the ends with silver rings, while his heavy jaw and broad shoulders gave him an unmistakably dangerous air.

The two neighboring cells held two more prisoners—or rather, two female prisoners.

Both looked noticeably slimmer and smaller than their tribesman. They had no manes, and their short silver and dark-blue fur only emphasized their finer facial features.

With no clothing to conceal them, the differences between the two women and the black-furred beastman were immediately apparent.

Their breasts were especially noticeable, covered in fur but still distinctly feminine in shape.

However, something else drew Kael’s attention far more strongly.

All three looked to be in terrible shape.

Traces of dried blood were visible here and there on their fur, while bruises, burns, and marks from other injuries stood out clearly on the exposed parts of their bodies.

Some of the wounds had already begun to heal thanks to treatment, but most of the marks looked fairly fresh.

“Signs of torture...” Kael thought, feeling a strange sense of revulsion. For a moment, memories of the times he himself had been in similar situations flashed through his mind.

Pretending he had not understood a single word they had said, Kael merely headed calmly toward the table.

“Two women at the level of Spiritual Mages... And one man at the level of a Domain Mage...” he noted inwardly, assessing the prisoners. “It’s like having Morkroft, Magpie, and Hector sitting in those cells...”

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Reaching the table, Kael lazily lowered himself into the chair and opened the notebook lying nearby.

Finding the appropriate page, he made a brief note that he had begun his shift and thought, “Now I need to wait... The real mission is only beginning...”

✦ ✦ ✦

Time in the dungeon seemed to have a way of slowing down. The atmosphere and lighting created the impression that every minute lasted an hour.

But for Kael, this was not a problem.

Thanks to his perfect memory, he continued mentally practicing runecraft and alchemy. It was as though he were replaying every moment of his training with the Archmagisters in his mind, going over each one several times so he could examine every detail.

Only occasionally did the beastfolk exchange words, and whenever they did, Kael instantly shifted his attention to them.

And at that very moment, a voice came once again from one of the side cells, “Nazen tchai, Razu’mar?”

Hearing the words, Kael abruptly snapped back to reality and focused his mind.

Concentrating on the sounds, he allowed his mind to grasp the already familiar sensation.

The individual sounds lost their distinct boundaries, blended together, and slowly resolved into meaning.

And the beastwoman’s next words seemed to blur, as though transforming into familiar speech, “Karesh… oth… is there any chance of rescue?”

The black-furred beastman sitting in the central cell, whom the others had earlier called Razu’mar, slowly braced his palms against the floor and, grunting quietly, pushed himself back against the stone wall.

“There is a chance...” he said through clenched teeth. “If they don’t torture us to death first.”

As he spoke, Razu’mar turned his gaze toward Kael.

Such naked bloodlust flashed in his eyes that an ordinary person would surely have felt uneasy.

But Kael himself calmly continued writing something in the notebook, as though he did not notice the gaze directed at him at all.

For several seconds, Razu’mar silently watched him.

Then he wiped his lips, cracked from thirst, and added more calmly, “It isn’t waiting that kills the will, but not knowing how long you’ll have to wait... Stay strong.”

The woman with blue fur clicked her tongue wearily and, grimacing in pain, muttered, “Of all times, we had to get captured right at the beginning of a new phase of the war... Even if we’re rescued, we’ll miss all the great battles.”

Razu’mar merely shook his head.

“Not all of them,” he countered, half-closing his eyes. “If we’re rescued, we may still make it in time for the battle for the human Capital.”

Hearing this, the beastwoman with ash-colored fur looked up and asked, “Do you think the Patriarch’s plans are realistic?”

Razu’mar thought for several seconds, then slowly nodded.

“Originally, the plans were shared only with our army. But after our failure, everything will change,” he said, rubbing the shackle marks on his wrist. “I think the Patriarch will order the entire front into action.”

Looking from one woman to the other, he added with greater confidence, “And if all our forces are involved, anything is possible.”

At the table, Kael continued calmly moving his quill across the paper, pretending to be occupied with his report.

But inwardly, his attention had already shifted entirely to the prisoners’ conversation.

“War for the human Capital? What are they talking about?” he thought, trying not to miss a single word.

But the next moment, the blue-furred beastwoman said something that sent an involuntary chill down Kael’s spine.

With a snort, she shifted slightly against the wall and said, “It still seems strange to me. Even if we discovered a route through the Central Dragon Mountains, you can’t move a large army through them.”

The quill in Kael’s hand paused almost imperceptibly, but only for an instant.

Then he resumed making entries as though he had heard nothing.

Razu’mar merely shook his head.

“We don’t need a large army to seize the eastern part of the continent,” he replied calmly. “And as for the Capital—only the strongest will attack it, including the Generals and the Patriarch. Only a few dozen mages will take the mountain trail.”

For several seconds, silence reigned in the dungeon.

Then, baring his teeth slightly, Razu’mar continued, “When all the humans’ forces are concentrated on the front, they won’t be able to withstand a blow like that from behind.”

The ash-furred beastwoman merely smirked.

“Those damn humans wanted to attack us from behind... But all they accomplished was opening the way for us to launch a surprise attack of our own.”

Razu’mar nodded in agreement.

“Actually, they might have succeeded. They were simply unlucky,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “The timing couldn’t have been worse for them.”

The two beastwomen nodded thoughtfully without objecting, while Razu’mar himself, briefly sinking into his own thoughts, muttered, “If we hadn’t needed to gain as much prestige as possible... The Patriarchs and General Mor’zak wouldn’t have taken such a risk...”

The ash-furred beastwoman merely replied grimly, “The General died a hero... But I still feel sorry for him.”

Razu’mar only replied somberly, “The General failed to complete his original assignment, but thanks to him, hundreds of our spies safely left the Capital. We obtained a vast amount of useful information, which means his death was not in vain.”

Listening to the conversation, Kael continued to lounge at the table, occasionally jotting something down in the notebook.

But beneath his outward calm, his mind was working at full capacity.

“This is bad...” Kael thought, not allowing a single emotion to show on his face. “If they really learned about the mountain route near Lasthold, my loved ones are in grave danger.”

His thoughts immediately turned to his parents and the people of Lasthold.

“The second expedition to Lasthold began while I was still in the Capital...” Kael continued thinking, mentally estimating the timing. “Which means the Empire’s expedition should have arrived by now and begun exploring the surrounding area.”

Glancing toward the beastfolk, Kael narrowed his eyes warily.

“But the Empire is moving too slowly...” he added inwardly, continuing to make unhurried notes in the notebook. “They don’t even realize that the enemy is already preparing to use the new route for an attack...”

The quill continued gliding across the paper.

From the outside, it might have seemed that the young guard was simply filling out another page of his report.

In reality, Kael was already feverishly turning over everything he had heard in his mind: “I need to report this immediately...”

But Kael was no less troubled by another detail in the enemies’ conversation.

“Why does he say the Horde is going to intensify its attacks so soon? Why such a sudden change?” Kael wondered, trying not to miss a single detail. “They’ve held half of the Human Dimension for hundreds of years, and this arrangement seems to have benefited them. A permanent training ground where their young can experience real combat, new resources, the opportunity to select the strongest warriors...”

Turning his gaze to the page covered in writing, he frowned thoughtfully.

“Even the Blood Dragon Empire reshaped itself around perpetual war long ago. So why change anything now?”

But at that very moment, words rang out that made Kael instantly cast aside all his previous thoughts.

The blue-furred beastwoman sighed in disappointment and, leaning her head back against the wall, muttered, “I really don’t want to die... I’d even hoped that, for my achievements, I might be able to attend that...”

Frowning, she thought for a moment before asking, “What is it called, Captain Razu’mar?”

The black-furred beastfolk merely snorted.

“Dream a little less, Umalka, kgh...” he replied, coughing up a little blood. “Only the most outstanding geniuses of the Beast God Horde will be chosen to go there.”

“What are they even talking about?” Kael wondered, frowning inwardly as he tried to make sense of the conversation.

But Umalka had already waved a hand.

“I know,” she muttered dejectedly. “I just wanted to indulge in a little wishful thinking...”

The beastwoman fell silent for several seconds, then added a little more quietly:

“Honestly, I’d at least like to hear an account from someone who gets to attend that Crucible... or whatever it’s called.”

And the moment those words were spoken, Kael’s body froze for an instant, while something deep within his memory seemed to stir.

“Crucible...” Kael repeated inwardly, trying to grasp at the knowledge buried somewhere in his memory. “Some major event that the Horde’s geniuses are supposed to attend?”

But the next moment, the second beastwoman spoke, and her words seemed to finally clear things up for Kael, only to raise a whole new series of questions.

“General Mor’zak said that the Crucible of Divine Banners hasn’t been held for the last seven hundred years. What changed?”

Razu’mar merely sighed with slight irritation and replied, “How should I know? I only heard that something happened in the Divine World seven hundred years ago.”

“What do you mean?” Umalka asked.

“Literally,” Razu’mar replied hoarsely. “General Mor’zak said that many Gods weakened in those days, and some disappeared altogether.”

He fell silent for several seconds, as though recalling his general’s words, then added, “That’s why this ancient ritual was temporarily suspended.”

“Temporarily?” Umalka repeated with a hint of mockery. “That’s what you call seven hundred years?”

Razu’mar merely snorted.

“For mortals, seven hundred years is an enormous span of time. But Gods and even the strongest mages perceive time differently.”

After a brief pause, he nevertheless added, “To them, seven hundred years really might seem like an unusually long pause. But not an entire era, as it does to us...”

After those words, their conversation seemed to die down on its own.

Each of the prisoners seemed to sink into their own thoughts, and silence once again reigned in the dungeon, broken only by the occasional crackling of the magical inscriptions on the walls.

Kael, meanwhile, could no longer stop his thoughts from racing.

The prisoners’ words seemed to have tugged at some long-forgotten thread of memory, and now his mind was feverishly dredging up everything that might be connected to what he had heard.

The more he remembered, the more the tension inside him grew.

Without realizing it, Kael gripped the page of the notebook so tightly that the paper began to crumple beneath his fingers.

“The Crucible of Divine Banners...” he murmured inwardly, trying to organize the knowledge surfacing in his mind. “It’s a grand event held once every hundred years, where the followers of different Gods gather to glorify their respective masters and convert more mages to their faith...”

Fragments of ancient writings surfaced in his memory one after another: scraps of pages, passages from chronicles and treatises.

“I’ve read about it...” Kael continued thinking. “But I never saw any mention of it being suspended for seven hundred years...”

Kael’s eyes darted rapidly, as though he were mentally rereading something in an invisible book.

Recalling the beastfolk’s words, he added inwardly, “Razu’mar said the Crucible was suspended because of something that happened in the Divine World...”

And the moment Kael thought about it, an alarming realization flashed through his mind: “The timing coincides with the disappearance of the Gods who patronized the Three Ancient Empires...”

But then Kael unexpectedly remembered the writings of the Void Ascetic that had come into his possession along with the Canon of the Primordial Void.

“Wait... What if all of this is connected?” Kael wondered inwardly.

“The Void Ascetic wrote that before his death, he had managed to kill five Gods and severely wound many others. What if those events happened exactly seven hundred years before I was born?”

And the moment that thought flashed through his mind, many scattered pieces seemed to begin falling into place.

“If the Crucible stopped because the Gods were weakened... If that was when the patrons of the Three Ancient Empires disappeared... Could the Void Ascetic really have been the cause of it all?”

As he continued straining to recall everything he knew, Kael suddenly remembered the words of the Shadow of the Throne as well.

“He said something about my predecessors... And about those who possessed a soul like mine...”

At that moment, Kael’s heart involuntarily began to beat faster, and a startling possibility occurred to him: “Could it be... that the Shadow of the Throne knew the Void Ascetic himself?”

But the moment that thought arose in Kael’s mind, he immediately stopped himself.

“Calm down, Kael...” he told himself inwardly. “You’re getting caught in a loop of speculation again. You won’t get any answers right now anyway. You’ll only end up with more confusion and baseless assumptions.”

“I need to focus on the assignment,” he decided inwardly.

Turning his gaze toward the beastfolk, he concluded, “I have several days... I need to remember everything they talk about. I can’t allow Lasthold to end up in the path of the Beast God Horde’s advance. The Empire has to prevent that.”

With those thoughts, Kael lazily leaned back in his chair, continuing to play the part of a bored guard.

But his mind remained utterly focused, and his heart beat rapidly.

He knew that right now, he could not afford to miss even a single word.