Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 54: The Wrath of Sozo

Narinder walked toward his temple, ready for the daily sermon, when an unusual scene caught his attention. Sozo, with his characteristic disregard for rules, was devouring the humanoid mushroom he had brought, swallowing it in a massive bite.

Frowning, Narinder approached in outrage. "Sozo, did you just eat a cultist?!" The disbelief in his voice was evident, but Sozo, lost in his own world, didn't seem to notice Narinder's anger.

"Little Mushroomo had to... *burp*... leave! Yes, yes, he had to leave! But Sozo knows where the others are! Narinder must bring more for Sozo, yes? Yes! Good." Sozo's excitement filled the air, but Narinder wasn't pleased by the idea that the cultist had been treated as a mere snack.

Firmly, Narinder responded, "No."

Sozo's reaction was instant and fierce. "You... deny Sozo? You hate Sozo? Then Sozo hates you too!" His eyes, once brimming with joy, turned blood-red, and his faith shattered, transforming into deep resentment.

"No... no! You have to help Sozo, you must! Sozo begs, Sozo needs mushroom... Give... Sozo... MUSHROOM..." The desperation in his voice echoed in Narinder's mind. Something in that plea struck a chord with him, but he knew he couldn't give in.

Without a second thought, Narinder transformed his crown into a giant hand and hauled Sozo to the prison, where he placed him in a wooden stockade, next to Jalala, who watched the scene unfold with a mix of surprise and disdain.

"Fine! Lock Sozo up! Sozo would rather be in prison forever than see stupid Narinder!" Sozo's indignation was palpable, but Narinder, sighing, felt the weight of leadership grow heavier on his shoulders.

With conflicting thoughts swirling in his mind, he turned to Jalala, who stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval. The situation had grown tense, and in the silence of the cell, the reality of his leadership felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jalala broke the silence, her voice laced with indignation. "What did you do to my friend Rinor?!" The anger in her words was clear, and the defiant look in her eyes left no doubt about her fury.

Narinder, feeling a bit uncomfortable, lowered his gaze to the panda trapped in the stockade, covered in remnants of old tomatoes. Jalala's pitiful state was a sad reflection of her position as a heretic.

"Who?" Narinder asked sincerely, his tone tinged with disdain. The truth was, he cared little about the fate of a heretic's friend.

"Rinor is a green skunk! My brother Yarlen told me she went with you and never returned," Jalala replied, her voice dripping with resentment. The name Rinor didn't ring a bell, but the mention of a brother piqued his interest.

"You have a brother?" Narinder instinctively asked, surprised by the revelation.

Caught in her anger, Jalala didn't bother answering. "I don't care what you think! What did you do to her?!"

Narinder thought for a moment, and as if struck by realization, he recalled. "Ah, yes! I used her life to open the door to Anura." The words slipped from his lips with contempt, as if Rinor's sacrifice was just a minor detail in his story.

Jalala erupted in rage, thrashing in the stockade, desperately trying to break free from the firm wooden restraints. "You're a monster!" she screamed, but her words fell on deaf ears.

Now in a better mood, Narinder smiled with delight and decided to play a little game. He conjured ten tomatoes from his crown, the bright red fruit contrasting with the gravity of the moment. Without warning, he began pelting Jalala with tomatoes, each one splattering fresh pulp on her face.

"Take that, panda! Look at your face now!" he taunted, laughing as Jalala squirmed, filled with rage and disgust.

Each impact was a reminder of his position of power, a small revenge for the annoyance she had caused. Deep down, Narinder enjoyed the silly game, feeling a fleeting sense of joy that lifted his spirits.

In better humor, Narinder walked away from the prison area and headed back toward the temple, feeling somewhat lighter.

Upon entering the temple, he struck the bell, the sound resonating throughout the hall, summoning the cultists to gather. Shadows stretched along the walls, dancing with the flickering torches, and the atmosphere filled with anticipation.

Narinder stood before his congregation, his voice booming with authority. "Brothers and sisters! Today marks a new chapter in our history!" The cultists watched him intently, their eyes shining with zeal. "Heket is now our prisoner. Her divinity has been stripped, and she will bow to our faith. Soon, she will reveal the location of her relic—a key piece in our path to greatness."

The echo of his words filled the room, a crescendo of excitement that captured everyone's attention. "We, the chosen, those who have remained loyal to the cause! This is our victory! Heket, who was once a goddess, will soon surrender to the power of our devotion!"

The hall erupted with cheers. "Narinder! Great God of Death! Heket will yield to you!" the cultists chanted, their enthusiasm reverberating through the temple walls. The celebration grew in intensity, the air thick with energy and hope.

Narinder felt a surge of pride.

After a while, he raised a hand to quiet the crowd. "Silence!" His voice cut through the noise like a blade, and the room fell into expectant silence, all eyes fixed on him. "Victory is sweet, but we must not forget that the real test lies ahead."

His words cast a solemn mood, prompting the cultists to reflect on his message. "Remember, our power comes from faith. Victory is a tool, not a destination. And while our mission is just, we must not forsake compassion for those who fall along the way."

As silence lingered in the hall, Narinder felt the weight of his leadership press down on him. There was a fine line between power and tyranny, and he knew he had to tread carefully.

Narinder raised his hand, commanding attention. His penetrating gaze swept over his followers as his voice rose, deep and resonant.

"For now, Heket is imprisoned," he declared with a firmness that seemed to vibrate through the temple walls. "She is no threat... but do not grow complacent," he continued, his tone cold and relentless. "She is a heretic who deserves no mercy, a fallen creature who defied our will and was crushed. Her time will come, and we will bear witness to her complete surrender."

The cultists, kneeling in reverence, listened with shining eyes, nodding at the strength of his words. The flame of fervor burned in their hearts.

Narinder stepped toward the altar's center, his imposing figure, cloaked in flowing robes, moving with purpose. "But our mission does not end here! This is only part of the journey! Today, we have imprisoned a fallen goddess, but another one still lurks in the depths. Kallamar, the coward, still breathes in purgatory. And we will not allow that for much longer!"

His eyes, burning like embers, locked onto each of his followers. "I will begin my journey to Anchordeep today! And I swear that soon, I will capture Kallamar! He will pay for his betrayal, and his relic will also be ours!"

A thunderous cheer erupted in the temple, the cultists raising their voices in unison, chanting their god's name with blind devotion. "Narinder! Narinder!" The clamor was deafening, a wave of unshakable faith filling every corner of the sacred space.

Narinder raised his hand, pointing toward the unseen horizon, his eyes ablaze with determination and ambition. "Let no enemy feel safe! Death will reach them, as it always has, as it always will!"

The crowd roared once more, surrendering wholly to their leader's words. In that moment, Narinder was not just the God of Death—he was the architect of their destiny, and everyone present knew it.