The Sons of Gods

Chapter 4: Sorin’s Ascension

Sorin sat at the base of a mighty oak tree. Before him sat a small fire that he poked at idly with a stick. Rain poured down from overhead and the oak tree did little to shelter Sorin from the cold droplets. Whenever a gust of wind swept through the hills, Sorin would receive a spray of rain over his entire body. Although Sorin wore his jacket, he did not raise the hood to protect himself from the rain. He simply sat and endured the rain as a form of self punishment.

Sorin’s fire did little to warm him. The fire was barely clinging to life as rain doused it with every gust of wind. The fire served one purpose for Sorin and that was to hold his attention and give him something to stare into endlessly.

It had been a month since Magnus was killed before Sorin’s eyes. Everytime Sorin closed his eyes, he saw Magnus’s dead body underneath an armored boot. Sorin attempted to avoid this by not sleeping. However, Sorin found that when he stared out into the darkness of the night, he thought he could see the horrors that dwelled in his mind. Indistinct shapes on the ground looked like the twisted bodies of the dead. Whenever Sorin investigated, all he found were rocks or bushes. The sights disturbed and haunted him nonetheless and made him further unwilling to sleep.

Sorin always thought of darkness as his friend and a protective layer like a blanket. His father was the god of darkness after all. How could Sorin, the demigod destined to wield darkness become afraid of it?

Sorin could do little to combat his newfound fear. However, Sorin tried to stave off his fear. Sorin began to build fires and spent as much time staring into them during the night before eventually collapsing into sleep. In his sleep, he was plagued by images of the death of the only man he trusted besides his brother.

Now that Sorin thought about it, Magnus and Quin were the only people he truly knew. Sure, he had interacted with the villagers, but not often and they tended to avoid him and Quin. The villagers were not particularly religious and knew of the conflict that Magnus and Lief could bring to the mountain on a moment's notice. Therefore the villagers were courteous, but avoided interacting with the boys and their mentors.

The most in depth relationship Sorin had with a villager was with one adventurous village girl who was excited by the prospect of danger. She became incredibly chatty with Sorin for a few months and they eventually had a tumble in the sheets. After that encounter she stopped interacting with Sorin. He could only assume she had gotten what she wanted, which was bragging rights and a story to tell to her friends in the village.

Sorin wiped some water from his face. He couldn’t tell if he was crying. Water was in his eyes and his eyes hurt. It would make sense if he was, but Magus always preached that a man did not cry. They channeled their negative emotions into growing stronger so that whatever provoked such sorrow could be overcome in the future.

“You might say to use this emotion to push forward, but it's easier said than done,” Sorin whispered to the fire. Sorin doubted the fire heard his whispers over the pounding rain that continued to soak him.

Although being a 10th Degree Initiate made Sorin stronger and more resistant to the cold of the rain, it was not impossible for him to get sick. The lack of sleep and cold rain could very well cause Sorin to come down with a cold or some other illness. That knowledge was inside Sorin, but he still did not care. Sorin knew his behavior was destructive to himself, but the self punishment distracted him from his feelings of guilt.

The acknowledgement that the pain made Sorin feel better gave him an idea. He rose from where he sat, feeling and hearing his joints creak and groan after spending so long in a single position. Sorin shook out his limbs trying to loosen his cold and stiff body. Once deeming his body would not get into better condition, Sorin began to strike out with his fists at the tree that was sheltering him.

Each blow made a dent in the trunk while simultaneously causing Sorin pain in his fists and palms. However, each blow seemed to make the guilt sink away and replace it with a sharp physical pain that was far preferable to the emotional baggage that had been following him this past month.

The dull thuds of his strikes against the trunk gave way to Sorin releasing his emotion through shouting with each strike. Sorin once did this when practicing martial arts on a practice dummy. Magnus immediately put a stop to it, lecturing Sorin about how unnecessary noise drew attention and took away any stealth advantage you may have had. The thought of their time spent together made Sorin smile as he continued to strike the tree and ignore his teacher’s advice. Sorin got so caught up in his self destructive cathartic session that he did not notice his surroundings till it was too late.

Sorin heard a shuffling behind him through the rain. His eyes widened in panic and he spun around before being smacked with a large paw. It sent him sprawling. Sorin’s preservation instincts kicked in. He scrambled back to his feet and backpedaled from his attacker. His left arm hung limply from his side as he retreated. It was dislocated at the least. Sorin felt a burning pain besides the discomfort in his shoulder. He looked down at his arm and saw three gashes. They were not deep, but definitely an injury that he would have to bandage.

Sorin raised his eyes to meet his attacker as he drew one of his Niuweidao swords. His effectiveness in battle would be lessened without his ability to wield both swords, but it was better than nothing. What Sorin saw before him made him wince at his predicament. Sorin saw in the light of what remained of his small fire was a Grizthorn.

Grizthorns were formidable creatures that roamed the forest. Resembling a bear in its sturdy build and powerful stature, the Grizthorn stood at an imposing height. Its fur was a mix of deep earthy browns and mossy greens, camouflaging it amidst the dense foliage of its habitat.

What set the Grizthorn apart from ordinary bears was the magnificent set of thorn-like protrusions that adorn its massive frame. These thorns were sharp as steel and served both as defensive armor and weapons, capable of rending through even the toughest of foes with ease. Each thorn was imbued with a subtle magic, enhancing the Grizthorn's already formidable strength and resilience.

Despite their fearsome appearance, the Grizthorns were not inherently aggressive. It was a creature of the wilds, fiercely protective of its territory and kin, yet typically only resorting to violence when provoked or when its domain was threatened. Something that Sorin had definitely done by shouting and destroying trees like a smooth brained dumbass. Sorin knew he had messed up severely. If Magnus was present, he would kill the Grizthorn in a single strike then proceed to chastise and give Sorin a beating through a spar for his stupidity. However, Magnus was not here and Sorin was all alone.

The Grizthorn gathered itself then began to lumber towards Sorin. It swung its massive paw toward Sorin. Sorin nimbly dodged, not bothering to attempt to block the strike with his single sword. The Grizthorn’s strength definitely outmatched Sorin several times over. Sorin would have to be a big lug like Lief Stoneheart to shrug off blows from a creature of such strength.

At the thought of Quin’s teacher and Magnus’s murderer, Sorin faltered in his dodging of another strike from the Grizthorn. The beast’s paw backhanded him across the face. Sorin went sprawling again and he knocked his head against a tree root. Sorin’s vision blurred and his head began to spin. Sorin’s head spun from the injury and the sorrow that welled up from thinking about Magnus’s murderer.

Sorin attempted to push himself back into a sitting position using his left arm, but only succeeded in causing himself pain when he moved it. Thankfully, that was enough to bring him back to his senses before he attempted to put weight on the injured arm. It was also enough to pierce the fog that shrouded his mind enough to see the next strike coming in the form of the Grizthorn bringing his foot down in a stomp towards him.

Sorin rolled to his right, careful enough to avoid impaling himself on his own sword, but not careful enough to avoid rolling onto his injured arm. He hissed in pain, but ignored it as he once again scrambled to his feet.

“When facing a larger opponent you have two options, speed or to utilize their own strength against them. If possible, it is preferable to use both options,” Magnus Warbringer’s voice echoed in Sorin’s head.

“Yes, Master. I hear and obey,” Sorin whispered as a reflex to the voice emerging purely from his imagination. Sorin immediately dodged beneath a paw strike and spun to get behind the beast.

“They will be off balance, take your time and strike a weak point. They will be unable to defend themselves,” Magnus instructed.

Sorin struck out with his blade in obedience with the order. The blade passed between two horn-like protrusions on the Grizthorn’s pelt and sunk into the beast’s flesh. The beast roared and attempted to spinning around and counterattack. However, the bear was slow due to being off balance from its previous strike. This allowed Sorin to withdraw his blade and retreat a step. The Grizthorn spun and attacked without bothering to orient itself. The strike went wide of Sorin and allowed him to attack the beast’s relatively unprotected chest. Sorin lashed out, aiming to end the fight right there and then.

Sorin stuck out his blade and slid it home into the beast, this time into the Grizthorn’s heart. The beast died instantly and went limp before crashing to the ground. Unfortunately due to the nature of his strike, Sorin had been close to the creature and directly in front of it. This caused the beast to topple towards him while spraying blood all over Sorin.

Sorin attempted to dodge away from the heavy corpse descending upon him. He avoided the beast by stepping to the right, but the corpse clipped his injured left arm. Sorin gasped and cursed as he was hit by the glancing blow and fell to the ground.

Sorin stayed on the ground and cursed at the pain. Slowly, the adrenaline faded from Sorin and the pain grew greater in contrast with his slowing breathing and heartbeat. Sorin let out a sigh, he needed to attend to his injuries. He knew basic first aid, although he never fought a beast nor was injured to this extent when sparring with Magnus or his brother. Magnus had taught him the theory and had him practice some first aid on himself.

Sorin quickly found that theory did not compare to putting the knowledge to use on himself. It took Sorin three tries and a lot of gasping in pain to pop his shoulder back into its socket. That alleviated a lot of the pain. Then he did an incredibly messy job of bandaging the gashes on his arm from the claws of the Grizthorn. Sorin contemplated wrapping his ribs. He poked his stomach, attempting to locate anything broken. He did not find anything broken, but he would be bruised in the morning. He expected his chest and face to be purple and yellow in color from the injuries.

Finally, Sorin relaxed. He laid down in the grass and let himself think through his next steps. Sorin knew he had two things to do. The first was to skin and harvest what he could from the Grizthorn. He could turn the beast’s meat into jerky to be rations for the journey. Sorin had been hunting small game during his journey as his primary source of food. If he had the meat from the bear, he could spend more time each day traveling to Cestead. The pelt of the creature would not be a bad cloak and even provide a bit of protection from anything that attempted to ambush him.

The second task was to consolidate the spirit obtained from the beast. Although Sorin had never killed a beast, Magnus had explained in detail how to consolidate the spirit he obtained from the beast. Whenever a beast or person was killed, the spirit they had cultivated in life would escape their body and enter the body of those nearby. That spirit would eventually dissipate from the body of those who absorbed it if they did not consolidate it into their body and divine conduit through meditation. There was an exception to this however. Someone could not consolidate the spirit of the beast they killed if they had reached the apex of the 10th degree of whatever Rank they were in. If they had, they could not take any more spirit into their divine conduit before they ascended to the next Rank.

What allowed someone to ascend to the next Rank once they had completely filled their divine conduit would vary from person to person and god to god except in the Initiate rank. In the Initiate rank, all someone had to do was kill a creature or person that was in 10th degree of the Initiate rank or higher. The ascension to the other Ranks could be anything from killing a certain number of the opposite pantheon or finding a lost artifact that their god sent them to find, or spending a vast amount of time praying in a temple. The options were endless and were up to the god of the follower.

The ascension criteria all followed a similar trend of doing something that matched the god’s domain or personality. Magnus had shared that he once heard of a follower of Torpion, the Slothful, who had the ascension criteria of needing to sleep for a period of twenty five years without being disturbed or waking up. The follower had to try multiple times to ascend over the course of a hundred years as he had been interrupted multiple times.

Sorin was the 10th Degree of the Initiate rank. Therefore, he could not consolidate the spirit of the Grizthorn unless met the criteria for Sorin to ascend to the 1st Degree of the Acolyte Rank. Sorin had never fought a beast and therefore did not have the experience to gauge the Rank of his recent adversary. Magnus stated that everyone gained the ability to discern if someone or something was a higher or lower rank than them during the ascension of Initiate to Acolyte.

Sorin obviously had no such ability since he had not ascended to Acolyte yet. So he could only hope and pray to Vesperos that the Grizthorn was a creature of the 10th degree of Initiate or higher and therefore allow him to break through. Otherwise, Sorin was going to have a very difficult time hunting random beasts till he found one of sufficient strength.

“No time like the present.” Sorin said to himself as he dragged himself off the ground and got to work.

While he skinned the beast, he thought about the fight. He made numerous mistakes. Not being prepared, making lots of noise, being distracted. All things Magnus warned him about. That brought Sorin’s thoughts to Magnus. He swore he heard Magnus in his head commanding him to move and strike during the fight.

That voice made Sorin feel at that moment that his mentor had never left. Sorin needed to know if this is what his mentor meant with his final words. Well… almost his final words. His final words were calling Lief Stoneheart a gutless coward. Sorin’s twisted sense of humor had him briefly picture a grand gravestone engraved with ‘Magnus Warbringer: A Mighty and Honorable Warrior’ followed by ‘You Gutless Coward’. Sorin smiled at the joke. Magnus had a dark sense of humor so he would have appreciated the joke.

Sorin pulled his train of thought back onto its original course. Perhaps Magnus meant by we will meet again was not him stating that eventually they would meet in the afterlife under the service of Vesperos, but that his mentor’s knowledge and teachings would follow Sorin. Perhaps everytime Sorin picked up his blades and went into battle, Magnus would be there to guide him. The thoughts comforted Sorin.

Sorin finished skinning the carcass and had cut the meat into strips. He built up the fire and set the meat to being cooked or smoked. The various activities had taken a few hours and the night was clearly coming to an end. The sky was beginning to lighten by the minute. It was time.

Sorin stripped out of his bloody clothes. The clothes were only one of three sets he had and were completely ruined. He didn’t bother to replace his clothes as his various injuries would probably get blood on them as well and he couldn’t afford to lose another set of clothes. Sorin would have to wait a bit longer for his wounds to heal before dressing himself.

Sorin sat against the tree that had been the target of his rage and sorrow several hours before. He then uttered a quick prayer that the Grizthorn was strong enough for him to ascend then began to meditate.

Sorin looked within himself at his divine conduit. He gathered the spirit he had absorbed from the Grizthorn and pushed it into his divine conduit. Sorin’s conduit was as dark as night, but he could sense everything within it perfectly. His conduit swelled with the influx of spirit. Sorin was amazed at all the spirit he was siphoning into the conduit. He was definitely hunting and killing more Grizthorns in the future if the payout was this large.

Once he had absorbed all of the spirit into his conduit, something happened. Darkness seemed to ooze out of his conduit and into his body and in that moment, his mind was transported to somewhere else.

Sorin opened his eyes and blinked, but he could not see anything. He could not hear anything. He had no access to his senses. An immense pressure was pushing down on Sorin. He began to panic and hyperventilate. Suddenly, the pressure abated and Sorin realized he could hear his own breathing. That calmed him, he clearly had not lost his senses if he could hear himself.

“My son you have finally ascended,” A powerful voice resonated through the darkness before abruptly cutting off. The voice was calming and deep, but with a sinister edge like a man who had all the power and restrained themselves from using it. Sorin knew this could be one man. Everytime Sorin was curious and asked himself questions, the question would be asked in this exact voice. Sorin simply thought that it was his internal voice, but now he knew differently. This was the voice of the god of secrets. The god that strived to know everything and keep it to himself, Vesperos.

“Ummm… Son…” The voice resumed with a perplexed tone that did not match the one that occupied the darkness a mere moment before.

“Yes, Father?” Sorin responded to the darkness happily. Sorin was thrilled to meet his Father. He was struggling so much since Magnus died and he was desperately in need of support and advice.

“Why are you naked?” Vesperos asked.