GodWithWings
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Ch 23 - A Smile Worth a Miracle
🕑 Added 2025-05-26 00:22:01 +0000 UTCSeeing Huanir like that - helpless, bleeding, his eyes locked on me like I was the last flicker of light in a collapsing world, made me care more than I expected.
Maybe it was the five Divinity Points I’d spent on him. Or maybe it was because he reminded me of my cat.
Either way, I didn’t want him to die.
But I couldn’t afford to burn ten more Divinity Points on Destruction, and I already knew I wasn’t going to reach him in time, not before the spider struck.
Still, I ran. As fast as I could. Maybe the spider would hesitate. Maybe Huanir had one last trick buried deep inside.
I pushed harder, racing against time, because those drooling fangs were already inches from his throat. The stench leaking from its mouth had to be burning his eyes by now.
“I can’t hold the spider for long!” Ninali’s voice rang out. Strained, trembling.
I spotted her nearby. Both hands raised toward the monster, three crimson diagrams glowing above her, crackling with unstable energy. The spider jerked as crimson energy covered its body, limbs twitching against an unseen force.
Ninali held it back. Barely.
But the spell was already fading. The diagrams flickered like dying embers, and blood was running from Ninali’s eyes and mouth.
Just a little longer.
I leapt forward, closing as much distance as I could. And then:
Phantom Step.
Darkness swept across my vision, and when it cleared, I was there.
Right beside the spider.
I tightened my grip on the greatsword, raised it high, and brought it down hard, aiming straight for the limbs holding Huanir. The edge carved clean through, green blood spraying as both limbs were severed at once.
It drenched us both, thick and cold, but I didn’t stop to react.
I turned, ready to finish the spider while Ninali’s spell still held.
But before I could take a single step, my legs gave out.
My vision warped, the world tilting sideways as a wave of dizziness crashed over me. My hands shook. My head spun. My entire body trembled like it couldn’t hold itself together.
What’s happening?
I didn’t have an answer. I only knew that I felt cold, but it wasn’t the filth clinging to my skin or the foul green blood soaking through my clothes. This cold came from within. And it was growing.
I tried to shake it off, hoping it would pass, but each breath made the dizziness worse. My limbs felt heavier with every heartbeat, the world beginning to tilt as if the forest itself had started to sway.
My grip on the greatsword weakened. My knees buckled slightly, and I realized that I was on the verge of collapsing. But before I could hit the ground, something caught me - a solid weight pressed beneath my shoulder, steadying me.
“Don’t die on me,” Teryo grumbled beside me, his voice low and rough as he dragged me away without wasting a moment.
I forced my head to turn, searching for Huanir, heart pounding at the thought of what I might see. He lay on the ground, completely still. Not moving. Not even twitching.
I was worried that without me protecting Huanir, the spider mutant would finish him off easily.
But then I saw it.
The creature’s body was convulsing, limbs thrashing violently as a crimson aura wrapped around it like a living flame. The energy ripped through its flesh, pulling at its frame with invisible force. Its shrieks echoed through the trees, each one more broken than the last.
Aria had finally arrived, and I knew that the spider wasn’t going to survive.
But even so, Huanir was still bleeding, still fading.
“Vaelari…” I shouted as loud as I could, forcing the words past dry lips. “Heal Huanir, please…”
And then the world slipped away from me entirely.
…
With my vessel finally out of danger and in good hands, I could turn my attention back to what I’d been preparing for almost an entire day.
When I first decided to bless the Velmoryns, it was based on a hunch - something in me suspected the spiders would eventually target the tribe. Now, there was no doubt. Sooner or later, they would come. And judging by how fast their numbers were growing, simply blessing the tribe might not be enough. I’d need to find the source of the problem and eliminate it, whoever or whatever that turned out to be.
These spiders aren’t something the Velmoryns can coexist with. I might have to postpone the dungeon exploration and return to deal with them directly.
But for now, that wasn’t something I could do.
First, I needed to decide which Velmoryns to bless.
I had already selected ten Bronze ranks, most of them chosen for having even the slimmest potential to develop into warrior classes. That part was easy enough.
The hard part was choosing a Silver rank.
Blessing someone at that level could push them toward Gold, and the stakes and the cost were much higher. The wrong choice would be a waste of power and opportunity.
There were three real candidates: Roy, of course; Mirion, a male with the highest Constitution in the tribe; and a young girl named Tekla.
To my surprise, Roy was the least appealing of the three.
Beyond his devotion and unshakable zeal, he didn’t stand out much. When I reviewed the status windows, it became clear that Roy was painfully average. His stats were barely above the line, even after receiving my blessing.
The only reason he remained in consideration at all was the Kindred Sigil.
The skill had no real limitations, so in theory, if I ever managed to bond Roy with a truly powerful beast - something like a dragon, a wyvern, or even Kurraghal, his strength would skyrocket.
But the problem was that I had no access to anything remotely close to that level of creature, especially not a newborn. And even if one appeared, there was no one in the tribe strong enough to obtain it for Roy.
That settled it.
I decided not to bless Roy this time. I had already rewarded his faith once, and I had no doubt he’d come up with some divine interpretation to justify my decision. Something like, the God wishes to test my faith! or He is preparing me for a greater burden!
So I turned my focus to the other two.
I willed the Window to move, and it shifted smoothly to where Mirion was.
He stood in the training ground, bare-knuckled, striking a wooden dummy over and over. His fists were already bleeding, skin torn and red, but he kept going until his breathing turned uneven and shallow. Only then did he stop.
Even while struggling to catch his breath, he didn’t hunch or sway. His posture held firm - back straight, shoulders square. Like a spear planted in the earth.
“Father, don’t overwork yourself. You need to stay in your best shape,” Tekla said gently, walking toward him with a clay jug of water in her hands.
She picked up a towel hung over the nearby fence, soaked it thoroughly until water dripped freely from its ends, and brought it to him with the kind of tenderness that made clear just how much she loved her father.
“What if we’re attacked while Vael Teryo and Aria are gone? Who will protect the tribe then?” Her voice was soft and refreshing, like a summer breeze after dawn.
She pressed the wet towel onto Mirion’s back, trying to cool him down and steady his breath.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and full of something warm and unmistakably paternal. Then, a corner of his mouth curled. “Shouldn’t Roy be the one protecting the tribe now? Since he’s been blessed by God?”
His smile widened. I couldn’t tell whether he was mocking Roy or me.
“Father!” Tekla snapped, pulling the towel back sharply. “I have told you already, we must trust Him. Have I ever been wrong about something like this? Why can not you just trust me?”
Her expression had hardened, brows drawn close, eyes fierce. But Mirion only smiled bitterly.
“You’re just like your mother,” he said, resting a heavy hand on her head before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I trust you completely. Did I not acknowledge Him already? I did that because I believe in your judgment.”
He picked up a gray shirt from the fence, its many visible stitches speaking of long use, and pulled it over his shoulders.
“Father,” Tekla continued, her voice trembling with restrained emotion, “I can feel Him. I can’t explain it… but I know He’ll lead our tribe out of this cursed forest. Back to our homeland.”
She paused, not because of doubt, but from the fury that flared behind her eyes. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides.
Mirion didn’t respond.
He simply smiled again and turned to walk away, heading toward one of the other Velmoryns nearby.
The scene I had just witnessed proved that blessing Mirion might not have been the wisest choice. He was strong, physically stronger than anyone else among my believers, but strength alone wasn’t enough. His devotion was sitting at a flat 20 out of 100, the same as Aria.
I’m starting to think 20 points is just the bare minimum… probably means they’ve acknowledged me, nothing more.
And while Mirion could certainly evolve into a powerful frontline warrior, he also had the potential to become a liability. With Aria already skirting the edge of faith, the last thing I needed was another Gold-rank Velmoryn who wasn’t a devoted believer.
My gaze drifted toward Tekla, still lingering in the training ground. Her long, pale-gray dress swayed softly as she moved around, carefully cleaning up the mess her father had left behind.
She was the reason I had hesitated.
Her devotion was 55 out of 100, even higher than Roy’s. But she wasn’t a fanatic. Unlike Roy, who believed everything that happened around him was part of some divine masterwork, Tekla believed I could falter. That I could make mistakes. And yet, in her eyes, I was still the beginning of everything good that might come for her people.
Roy respected me. He feared me. Tekla loved me.
That alone was worth considering.
But there was more.
Her stats were… unusual. Painfully low physical attributes - shockingly so, given that her father had the strongest body in the tribe. But she more than made up for it with her magical aptitude. Her magic control, resistance, and power were all exceptionally high, higher even than Aria’s.
And yet her mana was one.
Not ten. Not five. One.
I had never seen a stat hit zero before, so I thought that one was the lowest possible value. Tekla had all the talent in the world, but no fuel to cast with. It was like having a flawless instrument and no strings.
On top of that, she had no class. No title. A Silver-ranked Velmoryn with no defined path, something that should’ve been impossible. It made no sense.
But it also made her fascinating.
Everything about her stats pointed to one conclusion - she was built for something specific. Not general-purpose. Not broad. A role carved out like a keyhole waiting for the right shape to unlock it.
Exceptional magical finesse with no mana.
A fragile body paired with unshakable faith.
Silver rank at her age, yet no class, no title
Tekla wasn’t random. She was meant for something.
And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see what that was.
If I chose to bless her, I could spend additional Divinity Points and assign a class directly, one I felt matched her best. But that was the problem. I had no idea what that class was.
Should I just bless Mirion instead?
I hesitated.
Then, Tekla looked toward the Oak Guardian. And she smiled.
It wasn’t awe. It wasn’t obedience.
It was hope.
Hope and love, clear and bright as sunlight after rain.
That smile alone earned her my blessing.
I stirred the divine power in my core, channeling it toward her.
The sky split open. Crimson light descended like a spear of fire, rushing into her with force that shook the air. Unlike the gentle blessing Roy had received, this one surged - dominant, commanding, overwhelming.
Tekla’s body rose from the ground, weightless, suspended mid-air as crimson energy wrapped around her like a cocoon of raw divinity.
Mirion charged into the training ground, shouting her name, panic carved into his face. But she couldn’t hear him. Her body was already changing.
And then the notifications came.
Blue windows filled my vision in rapid succession, stacking faster than I could read.
Until one of them appeared in a different hue.
Yellow.
I didn’t even need to read it to know that I had just done something extraordinary.
But what, exactly?
