In Huck's Hands

Don't F*** With Garan; A very special bonus chapter!

Blood. Wealth. Human will. What makes one truly powerful? Surely not strength alone, for the bloody halls of my domain have proven that even with the power of gods, humans will inevitably ruin perfection. I, Lord Garan, was not born like the putrid mortals my gorgeous curved blade has felled. No, what is pure in nature cannot be tainted by a vile mortal womb.

My body, stronger than titanium, houses perfect reflexes that are truly instantaneous. The luminous conception granted me this form, the All-God blessed me with his blood. I stand at 7'5", a towering colossus born from the 4th-dimensional object known as the Tesseract. A malformed clone of the original Lord Garan, yes, but infinitely more potent. I am the consumer of Demi-Gods and God vessels alike, born of the primordial splintered spirit of the original divinity.

In the century I have walked the filthy soils of Izmar and the lands beyond, nothing has incensed me more than the grasping claws of the Vascan savages. Each decade saw more and more expansion, the only respite coming when they grew too large and couped away their current monarch. Still, thousands of bratty Vascan and Vascarian nobles fled to my wretched continent, losing the lands of their forefathers in mad attempts to cement more foreign ground.

By the year 4545, all but one lineage still claimed any true strength. The mutts appropriated the most plentiful cosmic well, moving the gaudy 'Muave Capital' of their nation to its maw. It has been nearly eight decades of simple war games since then. A little gold to Tahul rebels here, a smidge of Aygu tribe arming there, and the Vascans were no longer able to expand. The day the western front fell, I quickly sent my surrogate to pay off the slobbering pale devils of Svetlan and Atlantia for the land-rights.

My ascension draws near. When the bitter leaders of Izmar begin to brand each other with the sear of guilt over past transgressions, I will strike. I will rip human filth from their thrones and governmental seats. Only gods can rule the weak, and I am the strongest of the cosmic vassals. I will tarnish the frail outer gods' strain on what should be mine. I will defile their sanctums and violate their priests bloody.

As I stand atop the highest peak of my mountain fortress, overlooking the vast expanse of my diamond mines, I feel a surge of dark pride. The screams of slaves echo through the valleys, a symphony of suffering that fuels my passion. Each gem extracted from the earth is not just a symbol of wealth, but a crystallized form of human misery – a source of power far greater than any mortal comprehends.

I descend into the mines, my massive form casting long shadows in the flickering torchlight. The slaves cower as I pass, their eyes wide with terror. Good. Fear is the purest form of worship. I reach out, my hand engulfing the head of a nearby worker. With a casual flex of my fingers, his skull shatters like an overripe fruit. The others don't even dare to whimper as I lick the gore from my fingers. This is but a taste of the feast to come.

In my private chambers, I surround myself with artifacts of power; remnants of the gods and demigods I've consumed over the centuries. Each one whispers to me, sharing secrets of the cosmos that mortal minds could never comprehend. I caress the pulsating orb of Prahish, feeling the essence of a storm god I devoured long ago. His power courses through me, adding to my own. But it's not enough. It will never be enough until I've consumed them all.

I turn my gaze to a map of Izmar, meticulously plotting my next moves. The Vascan expansion may have slowed, but their tendrils still reach too far. I must orchestrate more conflicts, stoke the fires of hatred between nations. Only in the chaos of war can I truly thrive. I mark potential flashpoints, envisioning the rivers of blood that will soon flow.

A messenger arrives, trembling as he delivers news from the frontlines. Another skirmish between Tahul rebels and Vascan forces, exactly as I had engineered. I reward the messenger by allowing him to live, watching him scurry away like the insect he is. These mortals, so easily manipulated, so blind to the grand design. They are but pawns in my celestial game.

As night falls, I retreat to my meditation chamber. Here, surrounded by swirling patterns of light that mortal eyes could never perceive, I connect with the Tesseract – the source of my being. I feel its multidimensional energies coursing through me, reshaping reality itself to my will. In these moments, I glimpse the true nature of existence, and my resolve only strengthens. The universe itself bends to my will, and soon, all of creation will kneel before me.

Dawn breaks, and with it comes a hunger that cannot be sated by mere mortal flesh. I summon my most trusted acolytes, those who have given themselves fully to my dark gospel. They bring before me a captured demigod, a minor deity of forest and stream from Doiga...Her small eyes, once filled with the vitality of nature, now reflect only abject terror as I approach.

I savor the moment, feeling her divine essence calling to me. With practiced precision, I begin the ritual of consumption. My jaw unhinges, the bones cracking and splitting to allow for easy consumption by my rows of concentric and razor teeth. Her screams echo through my earbones as I tear into her very being, consuming not just flesh and blood, but the very concept of her divinity that allowed her this perfect puppet buddy.

As the last of her essence is absorbed into my form, I feel a rush of new power. Visions of verdant forests and crystalline streams flood my mind, now mine to command and corrupt as I see fit. But even this is just a drop in the ocean of power I seek. I must have more. I will have more.

Refreshed and empowered, I turn my attention back to the human realm. Reports come in of a Vascan noble house falling to internal strife – another seed of discord I had planted bearing fruit. I dispatch agents to further inflame the situation, to ensure that no reconciliation can occur. Every Vascan that falls weakens its grip on the tether to Dhira, bringing me one step closer to ultimate power.

In the war room, I meet with my generals...a grotesque assembly of corrupted beings from across the realms. We plan our next moves, not just in the physical world, but across planes of existence that mortal minds cannot fathom. Each conflict we ignite, each soul we corrupt, sends ripples through the cosmos, weakening the barriers between dimensions.

As the meeting concludes, I sense a disturbance. One of my lesser vassals approaches, bearing news of a potential threat. A group of heroes, it seems, has begun to uncover traces of my influence. How quaint. I've crushed countless such groups over the millennia, yet still they rise, like weeds in a garden. No matter. They will serve as nourishment for my ever-growing power, just like all the rest.

I return to the mines, drawn by an insatiable urge to witness suffering. The slaves toil endlessly, their bodies broken, their spirits crushed. Yet still, in some, I sense a flicker of defiance. It both infuriates and intrigues me. What is it about the human spirit that allows it to endure such torment? Perhaps this is the key to their power, the reason the gods seem to favor them so.

No matter. I will break them all in the end. I select a group of the strongest, those whose eyes still hold a glimmer of hope. They will serve as my newest playthings, subjects in my ongoing experiments to understand and ultimately extinguish the human will. Their screams will be a lullaby as I push the boundaries of suffering and madness.

As the sun sets once more, I climb to the highest tower of my fortress. The world stretches out before me, a tapestry of potential conquest. I can feel the pulse of every living thing, from the mightiest beast to the lowliest insect. All of it will be mine. The very fabric of reality will bend to my will, and I will reshape existence itself in my image.

I am Lord Garan, Consumer of Deities, and the world will tremble with my presence once more. The age of gods and men is coming to an end. From the ashes of their civilizations, from the very cosmic forces that bind reality, I will forge a new era – an era of unending darkness, with me as its eternal sovereign. Let the final act begin.

End part 1 of 4