Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 22: Reflections on Power and Admiration

After the noble and brave sacrifice of Allocer, the cultists, filled with devotion and emotion, left the temple, satisfied with their god's sermon. Narinder, still energized by the life he had just taken, remained in the temple, his mind immersed in thought.

Allocer had been the fifth sacrifice of that week, yet another offering to his divinity. Although he enjoyed the power gained from each life taken, Narinder lamented his inability to accelerate the process. He knew that if he continued at this pace, he would run out of followers too soon, something he could not afford. He took a deep breath and smiled. He still had two more sacrifices to make that religious week, and he already had in mind who his next victims would be: the last two followers of Shamura.

Narinder licked his lips, filled with pure malice as he thought of the remaining two witnesses. Both surely knew their fate was sealed, but now they served Narinder, their god, and whatever he decreed was law. With that satisfaction in mind, he left the temple.

Outside, the missionaries he had sent had returned, intact and unharmed, though visibly exhausted. Narinder welcomed them, gratefully accepting the large number of bones they had collected. Although it was not necessary, he allowed them to rest, sending them off to sleep before nightfall.

Later, he walked toward the farms, where he encountered the shrimp farmer, who was spreading fertilizer on the plants.
—"Oh! Hello, my lord!"— exclaimed the shrimp farmer respectfully. —"Excellent sermon today!"

Narinder, pleased with his follower's manners, responded with a slight nod. However, almost without thinking, he let slip a question he hadn't intended to ask:
—"What did you think of the Lamb's sermons?"

The god regretted it immediately. He knew very well how the Lamb's sermons were; after all, he had seen everything through the Red Crown. However, the shrimp farmer smiled as he continued to work the land, happy to respond.
—"I'll be honest, my lord, the aura of the Lamb when he spoke was very similar to yours. His words were always dedicated to the god of death, to you, and you could see he was quite happy mentioning you."

Narinder blinked, surprised. Had the Lamb praised him with such enthusiasm? He had watched the sermons from a superior perspective of the crown, but he had never noticed the Lamb's face while he spoke. The shrimp farmer's comment made him think. Did Lambert truly feel some kind of reverence for him? Did he not release him solely because of their arrangement?

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. He took the fruits and vegetables from the farm and headed to the kitchens, but the questions continued to linger in his mind. Still confused, he decided to seek the company of someone who wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear.

He made his way to the prison, where Jalala, the rebellious panda, remained trapped in the stocks. Her white fur was dirty, and the tomato stain on her face had darkened, but she maintained her defiant posture.

Upon seeing him approach, Jalala shouted:
—"You are not my god!"

Narinder looked at her indifferently.
—"Yes, I know, and that's why I'm here. I want to ask you something. What was the Lamb like? How was he when he mentioned me?"

The panda was surprised by the question. Smiling mischievously, she chuckled a little before responding:
—"Did you finally realize you're not as magnificent as he is?"

The provocation did not affect Narinder as Jalala had expected. Instead of getting angry, Narinder fell into thought.
—"It's true, he was magnificent in his role,"— he admitted, though not in a comparative tone. He knew he was superior to the Lamb in every way, but he couldn't deny that the way Lambert carried out his role was admirable.

As the panda continued to shout, Narinder immersed himself in his thoughts. Lambert, despite being young—he wasn't even two centuries old—had achieved things that other gods or ancient creatures could never have imagined. The Lamb had been a shrewd, relentless, and charismatic leader, capable of uniting followers under a common cause. His ability to garner devotion and his focus on maintaining a balance between obedience and power had allowed him to build something that, in a way, Narinder respected.

The god of death was not used to admitting admiration for others, but in the case of the Lamb, he couldn't help it. Despite the vast difference in age and experience, Lambert had proven to be a formidable force, even under Narinder's direct influence and his crown. It was clear that the Lamb was one of the few creatures that understood the true nature of power. That was a rarity among mortal or immortal beings.

—"Magnificent,"— murmured Narinder to himself, recalling the word Jalala had used. And yes, it was an apt description for Lambert. The Lamb had been, without a doubt, the second best life form that had ever existed.

But even in that recognition, Narinder remained clear that he was the first. His divinity, his power, his vision of the inevitable end of all things placed him above anyone else. Lambert could be "magnificent," but Narinder was still the pinnacle of creation, death itself, the ultimate fate of every living being.

Smiling at this reflection, Narinder felt a satisfaction he hadn't experienced in a long time. Lambert had been a worthy instrument, and in a way, a potential rival, but one who had played his role well until the end.

As he walked away from Jalala, Narinder paused briefly and, in a whimsical gesture, threw a handful of dirt into the panda's eyes. Not out of anger, but simply because he was in a good mood. Today, he spared her life, but tomorrow... tomorrow would be another day.

Walking toward his other duties, Narinder continued to think about the Lamb.

Narinder couldn't help but blush at the memory of the bloodlust the Lamb displayed in battle. Despite his calm and devout demeanor during sermons, Lambert transformed into a bloody, unstoppable beast when fighting his enemies. The Lamb showed no mercy; his fury was brutal, almost divine, and Narinder found it fascinating how that young and humble-looking creature could unleash so much violence when the occasion called for it. It was a contrast that intrigued him, even worthy of admiration, and thinking about it made the god of death blush slightly, pleased to have been the God of the lamb.