Author's Note: I AM BACK! But I don't know for how long. I want to resume regular updates, but I'm not sure weekly chapters is a realistic timeframe anymore. I'll start with bi-weekly, maybe, and see how that is. At any rate, I've wanted to switch focus slightly from Kratos and Atreus or Ainz and Nazarick, so here it is. As always, comments and constructive criticism is welcome!
His name was Sigevert. An awakened descendant of the Six Great Gods. The First Seat of the Black Scripture. None could match his spear in battle, or rival his skill; all but one would fall, and the one who could survive? She would always best him, to the point where she was no rival at all.
But he lived a second life, as Sigevert Armini, the heir of his most ancient and noble house. Having come of age some years ago, Sigevert had another, equally important duty, besides leading the Black Scripture: procreation. The Arminii could proudly trace their lineage in excruciating detail, going back nearly 600 years to the Goddess of Fire herself, with many of that line serving as Supreme Pontiffs of the Theocracy. As such, divine blood flowed through his veins, and so it was his duty, not just to his family and his country, but to the human race in its entirety, to find other partners of divine blood to mate with and father more Godkin for the Theocracy.
The Research Institute of the Theocracy's attempts to artificially trigger an awakening in a confirmed Godkin were thus far unsuccessful, so the only organic means to creating Godkin was required until such research was successful. The hope was that one of these descendants would awaken their own powers, and thus bolster the strength of the nation and of humanity. This duty was all the more urgent for Sigevert, since he had himself awakened his godly power.
Love was something of a foreign concept in Sigevert's life. He was not forbidden to have a partner or to marry for love, but any romantic relationship he formed lacked any of exclusivity that made them meaningful, as the sacred duty of the Godkin to proliferate superseded even the most solemn nuptial vows of fidelity. Selection of mating partners was politely masked as this social gathering or that, between noble families who also boasted divine ancestry.
Sigevert was at one such event now, visiting the estate of one Lord Volsun Rerire, the previous Fourth Seat of the Black Scripture, son of a former Supreme Pontiff, and close friend of Cardinal Raymond Lauransan, who was himself a Black Scripture veteran. While Sigevert found Volsun obnoxious, the Rerire manor was always an elegant one to visit.
A vast, beautiful oak tree bloomed in the midst of the dining hall, in the space between the common tables below and the dais, where the guests of honor and the hosts would sit. Its age, as Volsun was always eager to boast about, ranged from one to four centuries, depending on how much he needed to impress. The event at hand was a wedding reception. The bride and groom on that joyous day was Volsun's beautiful daughter, Lady Signy Rerire and Gottmund Lauransan, the younger brother of Cardinal Lauransan.
As expected of a wealthy aristocrat, this was a resplendent occasion. Cardinal Lauransan came to join in the celebration on behalf of his brother, as did Cardinal of Fire, Berenice Santini and Cardinal of Wind, Dominic Partouche.
The festivities continued well past dark. The wine flowed almost as strongly as the aristocratic gossip and court intrigue did, and with his mother's assistance, Sigevert had successfully scheduled assignations with several of the bridesmaids, each of them possessing a suitable divine pedigree. His immediate task accomplished, Sigevert took the time to relax, enjoy some drink and the rich food, and tune out Volsun's incessant boasting and boisterous flattery towards the three Cardinals, which carried through the entire hall. He decided to eavesdrop on another, less annoying conversation when the sound of wood tapping against the floor loudly not only caught his attention, but the attention of the entire hall, which fell into silence at the sound.
Next to the great tree in the hall, there stood a tall, old man, holding a wooden staff, which he had struck on the ground several times. A grey cowl covered his face in shadow, and a simple earth-brown coat covered the rest of him to the bottom half of his boots. Sigevert could see an eyepatch over one eye. The other piercing blue eye surveyed the high table.
As the guests muttered in wonder amongst themselves, Volsun stood up, a hint of indignation in his voice. "What's this, old man? Here to complain about the food?"
The old man replied in a soft, wispy voice. "No." He set his staff down, and with his now freed hand, withdrew a beautiful sheathed sword from his cloak. Its pale blade shone like sunlight when he unsheathed it, and in a single thrust, he plunged the weapon hilt-deep into the mighty tree trunk. "I have a contest for all to partake in. The one who can remove this sword from the tree may have it as a gift from me, and will find that there is no finer blade than this." Setting the empty scabbard against the tree, the old man took up his staff, and strode out of the hall. No one moved to stop him, shocked at the suddenness of his arrival and the bizarre nature of his challenge.
Volsun tried to salvage the situation, breaking the awkward silence. "Well, uh, ladies and gentlemen, it seems like we have ourselves a challenge. Any takers?"
Cardinal Lauransan looked at Volsun with perplexion written on his brow. "You actually want to play the old man's game?"
"Raymo-er, Your Eminence. How hard can it be? It's just a sword in a tree."
Cardinal Lauransan sighed. "Obviously, there is more to this than meets the naked eye. Cardinal Santini, what can your divination tell us?"
Cardinal Santini nodded, and rose. She approached the tree, where she cast [Detect Enchant] on it. "Hm." Cardinal Lauransan walked to her side.
He whispered quietly. "Berenice?"
"Some sort of transmutation magic holds it in place. There seems to be nothing dangerous about it," she muttered back.
"I see. Well…." Cardinal Lauransan raised his voice for all to hear. "We can detect no lethal or harmful magic." He turned to face Lord Rerire. "Volsun, a strong man like you might just win this blade. Why not try it yourself first?"
The flattery worked. The brash host nodded, strode up the tree, intent on proving himself, and set hand to the hilt. He pulled, struggling with all of his might. He propped a foot up on the tree trunk to lend him more force as he pulled. The hilt slipped from his hands, and he fell on his back. The mostly inebriated guests laughed loudly as the man plodded back to the high table in a dismal mood.
"Gottmund?" asked Cardinal Lauransan.
Gottmund glanced at his newly-wed wife, who shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He rose. When he drew near the tree, he put both hands to the sword's grip. After a minute of struggling, stepped back with a winded huff of defeat, shaking his head.
Volsun had an idea. Not a financially bright one, but an idea all the same. "Guests! Hear me! I will offer fifty, that is fifty platinum coins to the man, woman, or child who can remove that damned sword!" The extravagant offer brought a whole line of guests, all keen to earn fortune enough to last a lifetime of luxury, even if the stranger's declaration about the sword's quality was false. They all failed, one by one. No one could even make the weapon shift in its place.
Sigevert stirred at Cardinal Santini's voice. "Sigevert? Were you going to try your luck with the sword?"
"If you wish me to, Your Eminence."
Cardinal Santini responded casually. "It wasn't an order. You're not on duty right now. Just offering."
The Godkin shrugged. "I may as well, in any case."
"As you please."
He got up, and made his way to the tree. The line had dwindled greatly, as each man and woman tried to pull the sword from the tree, and failed, and left it in frustration. Others had stood in line, watching those who tried, and gave up before their turn. Very soon, no one was in between Sigevert and the tree. It was his turn. He put two hands on the hilt, propped his foot on the trunk, and pulled. He nearly fell back, as Volsun had, not because of the sword's stubbornness, but quite the opposite. It glided right out of the trunk, with no resistance at all.
The guests gasped, some with food-laden forks, spoons and others with goblets of wine frozen half-way to their mouths. Cardinal Lauransan did a double-take seeing the sword removed from the tree, but relaxed into a proud smile upon seeing that it was Sigevert who had removed it. Sigevert flipped the sword down, supporting it on the flat of the blade with both hands, moving his eyes up and down the wondrous work of steelmongery, if steel it was. It felt nearly weightless in his hand, too light to be steel or even mythril, and too bright to be platinum or adamantite. A strange pattern was imbued into the bright metal itself, as if ocean waves were crashing forward and receding beneath a thin metal surface. Intricate runes were carved into its hilt, which was shaped like a dragon spreading its wings. Its pommel was capped with a deep and pure sapphire.
"This… kid got the sword?!" sputtered Volsun as his eyes landed on the sword.
"Now, now, Lord Rerire, you did promise fifty platinum coins to whoever won the sword. The young Armini here has won, in sight of everyone here," shrugged Cardinal Partouche. He sipped a goblet of wine lazily.
"Oh! Yes, of c-course, Your Eminence! I'll just, uh… need a few days to get the, uh, money together, and uh, yes…"
Cardinal Lauransan approached Sigevert quietly as Volsun struggled to wrap his head around how much money he now had to give away. "Get back to Silxuntex with the sword, immediately. It's vital the sword is analyzed by the Research Institute to determine its properties. We'll give any excuses you need to leave. I hope that old man was right about the sword. If not, that's still fifty platinum pieces for you since you pulled a sword out of a tree. Go, son. Good work."
Sigevert nodded in thanks, and replaced the sword in its scabbard, and affixed it to his belt. He left quietly through a side door, avoiding all unwanted attention. He made his way towards the stables, where, conveniently enough, an open carriage was fully prepared to set off. "Silxuntex, quickly. Stop at the main gates," ordered Sigevert, as he climbed in the carriage. The driver nodded, lit a lantern for light, and off they went into the night. It would be an hour or so until they reached the city walls of Silxuntex.
About a quarter of an hour into the journey, in an empty stretch of countryside, the driver spoke up. He spoke gently. "So you're the one took got the sword… odd."
The old man's question startled Sigevert. "What?" he gasped.
"It took less time than expected. I think you remember me," said the driver, turning to reveal that eyepatch and that one piercing blue eye.
"You… this was your sword," whispered Sigevert in recognition. "Speak plainly. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"
"Firstly, you should know that I'm taking you to your home, not to the middle of nowhere or somewhere dangerous. There's no trickery or dishonesty in all of this. You can call me Havi. You're Sigevert Armini, I presume?"
"Yes…" The Godkin's brow was furrowed.
"Good to meet you."
"... Now, old man, you were about to tell me you wanted?"
"Indeed!" Havi turned himself around to sit in the carriage bed facing Sigevert, leaving the carriage driverless. It did not swerve even a little. "There's some things I wanted to discuss with you, actually."
"You disrupt a wedding reception, damage an ancient tree, and then masquerade as a carriage driver because you foresaw that whoever took the sword would be sent away at once. All this elaborate planning and magic to 'discuss some things with me?' I need more information than that, old man."
Havi chuckled. "Of course. You Godkin see yourselves as protectors of humankind, yes?"
"How do you-"
"Know? It's my job to know, son. Like you, I too am a guardian, but on a far larger scale. I work day and night to protect more than just this world, but all of them, and everything in between."
"Other worlds? Like that of the Gods, and that of demons?"
"More or less. My duty is to protect these worlds, and the truth is, I can't do it alone, not now. I need help. Your help, and the help of other people like you, to protect existence itself from those who would destroy it. Now, you might be thinking to yourself, 'if this person's a protector of worlds, why hasn't he intervened to stop this plague or that war?' I'll concede that it's my fault, mostly, but I intend to make it right. This world, which I call Midgard, is one of the quieter areas under my care, and the protection I put on it has worn down occasionally, every century or so, in fact."
"If all of this is true, why would you not appear as someone powerful, someone that people wouldn't underestimate or be suspicious of? It would be more efficient to bring these worlds into cooperation."
"Another good question. You know, I'm realizing more and more that I've found just the right person. The answer to your question is another question, though. Why would I want to? I don't want the praises and worship your Gods demand, which is what your suggestion would bring with it. I just want the world to be safe from destruction, and for that, I need your help, son."
Sigevert said nothing. Havi paused as well, before continuing on.
"I know you probably doubt me, think I'm a con-man or a crazy of some sort, or just have an ulterior motive. The method of my approach is… unconventional, I get it. If you can push aside your doubt for just a moment, you can see that, at the end of the day, we both want the same thing. We want to protect the things that are important to us. I promise you that by working together, we can ensure those important things, those loved ones, are safe for years, even centuries to come."
"Are you asking me to abandon my allegiance to the place I was born and raised?"
"No! Not at all! I'm not asking you to betray anything of the kind. I'm just asking for your help, to help me find the answers I need to better protect the world. In exchange, I will give you the tools you need to defend your people."
"I do not need more tools than what I already have."
"Do you really believe you are strong enough to defend your Theocracy from any serious danger?"
"You refer to the undead king?"
"Yes, and others besides him."
"We will defeat the Sorcerer King if it attacks. We have the gifts bestowed upon us by the Six Gods."
"They aren't going to be enough, son. If you accept my help, and help me in return, I can help protect your people."
"Why are you so confident in the Sorcerer King's power? Are you a defector from its occupied lands?"
"No. Look, as a protector of the worlds-"
"-it is your job to know that. I understand."
"Now you're getting it. I need to know, are you in?"
"You want me to decide now?!"
"Well, last I checked, evil doesn't exactly act on your schedule."
"So in exchange for 'helping' you with something, you help me… how, exactly?"
"I will help you to surpass your ancestors. Perhaps even the gods themselves."
Sigevert's red eyes widened in indignation. "Blasphemy," he hissed.
Havi stopped him. "Is it blasphemy coming from another god?"
Sigevert stared at the old man in shock, speechless.
"I know, I know, I don't look the part of everything I just said I do, and therefore, you doubt me; a reasonable conclusion. But do you realize what accepting my offer would mean for your people? For all of humanity?"
"I do realize what it would mean. If it was true. But even if you could make me somehow stronger, what if there are other people stronger than me?"
"I see what you're getting at. You're thinking of the half-elf girl, primarily. I've already accounted for her. Don't worry yourself. It'll be fine. We'll need her help too, so winning her over would be the first order of business."
"She would never obey anyone but the Cardinals, or whoever can defeat her."
"Exactly. If you can fight her to even a standstill, that would be a testament to what we can do together, and would show me as a man, no, a god of my word."
"A fight?" Sigevert pondered the matter, looking away and tapping an indecisive finger on his knee.
"I can see it in your eyes, son. Beneath all that duty and loyalty towards the Black Scripture and your Theocracy, there's a part of you that's always wanted to beat Certain Death, isn't there?"
"..."
"I get it, you're conflicted over this. Listen to me. I want to give you the edge you need to win in such a fight. Your new sword, Gram, is just a small part of this. You could also use better armor, better training, proper nutrition, and some good mead. I can provide all of that."
Sigevert made eye contact with Havi again. His mind was made up. "You are correct that I want to beat Certain Death, but we should consult with the Cardinals and the rest of the government first. I answer to them first and foremost, so if you want my help, you should ask them."
Havi sighed. "Fair enough. I was hoping to keep this more under wraps."
"Not likely to happen. Since you know a great deal of information about the Theocracy that the public does not, you would know that I am one of the Theocracy's main military assets. You would also know that the government will not part with me lightly, nor will they forgive me if I suddenly abandoned them at the bidding of a stranger."
"Alright then. I accept. We'll do things your way."
Author's Note: I want apologize to those readers of this story who want to see less yapping and more slapping, in a manner consistent with God of War canon or Overlord canon. I understand that there has been a good deal of talking in this story and a lot less hitting things. I promise the violent bits are coming, just not yet. I intend to cover not just God of War 4, but also God of War Ragnarok. My hope is that the buildup of this story will make the bombastic violent bits at the end all the more engaging and satisfying to read. So, please, bear with me and my habit of writing diplomacy and persuasion into a fanfiction crossover between two violent franchises.