Another firefly went out. Its light gave me a little more form, but not enough. The body was lost in the ashes of my power. Yet another priest was here. From there, I could carry my power, give it balance. The tent was useful to me. At times, I could contemplate my subjects, my faithful doing the work I entrusted to them. My power was vast, but I had to maintain a real balance. I had to be here, directing everyone from the imperfect body I had taken, while outside I continued receiving power from all the small conquered villages.
This challenge presented problems. The priests were not up to the task. I tried with some high representatives, but they were too ambitious, always thinking about how much power they could use for their own benefit. The weak ones—those whose latent potential was low—were not very useful. For now, I was carrying the few who showed some power but without knowledge of it. I had to carry them; they would not be nor would they use my strength, only transfer it for when I invaded that damned city. I knew there I could not access all my resources, but this way I could turn an entire culture to ashes without wasting time.
But I had already lost a lot. Each of the power vessels had taken me a thousand men to find. Not that they were not abundant, but I had to make sure they would not use my power. So first, I designed the runes that would contain them, that would kill them, and they would only be large magic silos. Then, how much they could contain—I lost power there. Between each explosion, each incineration where the power exceeded their limits and the body gave up. Not only theirs—the high priests also had to sacrifice themselves. They had to channel everything through their hands and fill them. Whole days of dedication to their god. But I did not need them elsewhere. My troops had already traveled the coasts. I had added a few thousand new believers and eliminated tens of thousands more. Of course, there was resistance—this was not a place that survived so much by being simple people. But before falling into battles that would deplete my forces, I began to undermine them from within. It was easy, having my power on their side.
When they arrived, the armed forces were not at the front. Believing priests, faithful to the cause, arrived at the small villages. They performed a few miracles, convinced a tenth of the population, and once they belonged to my ranks, I used them to make them detest the mages. I accused them of everything a lower being normally fears... the unknown. Soon, everyone came to my side. A couple of cities delivered the heads of the few mages who tried to keep protecting them. For now, I had some soldiers guarding them, eliminating any kind of protest or attempt at free thought from the half that was not yet mine. But everyone fell. It was simple—wherever you applied pressure, it was easy to acquire faith. Young women who believe in me sacrifice everything to convince the city's mercenaries or officials, so I have their children and influence in their decisions. Youth, voluptuousness—the human is so easy to buy with the possibility of not getting lost in loneliness. Those girls believe they are doing it for a greater good, so none lament their fate. At last! If it is a greater good, it is for me.
I had fifty dominated cities, thirty in full conflict, two that due to their mountainous conditions we had not yet reached. But we would—they would fall. They could not help but think about their future, the simplest fears of death and its transcendence. I think if someone told them what really happens, they would cling to me—it is simple to be responsible.
Impatience gnawed at me. I wanted to go for my enemies, to see them eliminate so much power that I could have harvested—effortlessly, without being affected by what I threw at them. But no more! That city must fall, by my hand. It had to be that way to obtain all that power. It was a bridge between the cities of the other unbelievers. If I gathered all those citizens, I would fear no enemy, and those who were not even threats—lesser gods, feeding on a power that was mine, enslaving my servants, abusing my clemency and patience—would be nothing more than a dark stain in the mud.
Finally, after several months, I could feel it. I was here, contained in a body. I think it was from a girl—it didn't matter. No one saw her; she could have been a good priestess, but she fulfilled what I needed—strength, potential, and ignorance. Anakena, I think her name was. But she would be the means to my vengeance. Blancir walks among mortals! I prepared my troops to begin entering the forests. They would have to go around; there was a possibility of a two-front attack. I would take care of the magic; they would take care of the soldiers.
The march was led by my batteries. They were protected by several magical fields. They did not attack, did not see. None of their needs were unsatisfied, but they did not know when they ate, drank, defecated. They were changed, bathed, and cared for. As I advanced, I could feel the life around me—not only those little flames that were my faithful, but the plants, the whisper of leaves, the singing of small birds, magical and non-magical animals that wandered without purpose. Thinking of all the wasted power made my hands tingle—I eliminated centaurs and other humanoids anyway—but the magical beasts could be an enormous source of power.
I was happy. My happiness was transmitted, and everyone sang. I suppose this girl's heart gave words to my thoughts. Everyone chorused to her song, and it was not hard to understand.
"The furious God marches,
advances through forests and valleys,
walks to where mortals,
with dark joy,
renounced the blessings
of a generous Blancir.
Oh God, do not hate them—
they never had the chance to know you!
Merge with me, heretics!
Stay away from profane magic.
Faith moves mountains.
Why trust humans
when a god offers answers
to the questions they never knew?
God's love comes for you—
receive me joyfully.
Renounce your leaders—
the reds and whites.
Hate the elves—
blasphemies of the past.
I, God, declare
that pointed ears are of the devil.
Whoever helps them, I will cast away from my side.
Soon for eternal life,
on the way to deliver it to you,
the calm of paradise,
where joy is known,
I will be with you.
My children! Be joyful.
Blancir brings the peace of faith.
Smile... I'm going there."
When the girl's tired voice fell silent, the voice walked ahead—in the forests, in the villages we conquered, in the wind that vibrated with my power, the power of hundreds of thousands of humans who believed in me, who gave their little flames to this fire heading to that city. This immense force was enough to overwhelm them, but I would not do it. I would only destroy those who did not accept the true faith. I swear by myself! The head of Judeus Whitecap will rest on a pike! The life of the mage society has come to an end. I am the future! Ha, I can't wait to see how they try to stop me—how I will laugh!