Starting Out As The God of Beasts

Silence descended over the ruined, subterranean throne room like a heavy, suffocating shroud.

The air was stagnant, thick with the metallic reek of golden celestial blood and the vile, parasitic stench of dark corruption.

Roy stood motionless beside the ancient altar, his dual golden-crimson eyes locked onto the ethereal vessel of Telvanus, the God of Information.

Slowly, deliberately, Telvanus stepped past the shattered marble pillars.

His boots made no sound against the blood-stained floor, his shifting, starry robes dragging through the shadows as he closed the distance between them.

He came to a halt right beside Roy, his glowing, rune-scrolling eyes looking down at the battered, six-winged angel bound to the stone slab.

A faint, knowing curl touched his pale lips—a smile laden with secrets that stretched across cosmic epochs.

Roy did not lower his posture, nor did his vigilant aura falter.

He stared at the deity’s vessel, his deep voice slicing through the heavy quiet.

”What is happening up there?” Roy asked, his tone flat and demanding. ”What is occurring in the Upper Mythical Realms?”

Telvanus casually shrugged his slender shoulders, turning his gaze slightly toward Roy.

”Just as I explained back then, a war is brewing, Varanus,” Telvanus answered smoothly, his distorted, double-layered voice echoing through the silent hall.

”A grand, divine storm is gathering over the Ten Heavens... and ironically enough, it is all thanks to you.”

Roy’s sharp eyebrows furrowed into a deep line. ”Thanks to me? Explain.”

Telvanus let out a soft, amused chuckle, folding his hands inside his long, embroidered sleeves. ”It all began with the death of Damascus. The divine chain reaction you set in motion on the mortal plane has rippled straight to the absolute apex of the cosmological hierarchy.”

The God of Information gestured lazily with his hand, golden runes fluttering from his fingertips like glowing embers. ”Damascus, despite his pitiful status as an unorthodox deity, belonged to the broad umbrella of the Death Faction.

On the other side of the heavenly spectrum sits the Light Faction—to which the God of Justice belongs. Because the God of Justice exploited Damascus’s vessel descent and orchestrated the execution of a member of the Unorthodox Faction, the scales of peace have tipped into absolute chaos.”

Telvanus’s smile widened, though his eyes remained cold and calculating. ”Currently, the two supreme factions are locked in heated, violent discussions within the heavenly pantheons.

The Unorthodox Faction is screaming for blood, openly demanding the head of the God of Justice to restore their divine honor. The Upper Mythical Realms are suspended in a terrifying, knife-edge tension.”

”Have the True Gods begun their open clash?” Roy asked, his eyes narrowing.

”Not directly, yet” Telvanus replied, shaking his head. ”The Absolute-tier, Primordial-tier and King-tier True Gods have yet to make their personal moves; the balance between the Ten Heavens is too fragile for them to strike open blows without shattering the realm.

Instead... it is the native divine creatures, heralds, and angels who are clashing in the skies. A proxy war is raging across the upper provinces.”

Telvanus turned his eyes back to the unconscious, six-winged creature lying on the altar.

”Which brings us to this pitiful creature,” Telvanus murmured softly. ”This angel belongs directly to the God of Justice. The God of Justice is a proud, formidable King-tier True God—which is precisely why the Light Faction refuses to hand him over to the Unorthodox Faction.”

The vessel’s voice dropped into a dark, informative cadence. ”During a brutal skirmish in the Upper Heavens not too long ago, five celestial angels were completely obliterated. This particular angel was clever—or desperate—enough to evade absolute destruction. He severed his divine ties, descended into the mortal plane, and buried himself in this ancient, forgotten palace to slumber, waiting for time to mend his broken divine sea.”

Roy took a slow, deep breath, evaluating the cosmic dynamic in his mind.

He looked down at the pale, battered face of the celestial, watching its shallow, agonizing breaths.

”Can I save him?” Roy asked quietly. ”If I cleanse the blight using Creation Essence...”

”No,” Telvanus interrupted firmly, shaking his head.

”You cannot save him, Varanus,” Telvanus explained, his scrolling eyes flashing with a stern warning. ”Look closely at the dark miasma eating through his soul. This angel is suffering under the active, soul-rotting corruption of the God of Malice—another King-tier True God who harbors a deep, unknown hatred for the God of Justice.”

Telvanus leaned slightly closer to Roy, his voice dropping into a low whisper. ”The corruption inside this creature acts as an active divine anchor.

The instant you inject Creation Essence to purge the blight, you will trigger an alarm that resonates directly in the domain of the God of Malice.

You will expose this location, complicate your true identity, and bring the terrifying gaze of a King-tier deity down upon your unawakened head before your divine kingdom is even built.”

Roy remained silent, weighing the cold, dangerous reality of the situation.

Seeing Roy’s silent contemplation, Telvanus offered a sly, dark grin. ”If you want my advice, Apostle... do not waste your pity on a war tool that does not belong to you. Kill him. And then... devour him.”

Roy’s golden-crimson eyes flickered toward the vessel. ”Devour him?”

”Indeed,” Telvanus purred smoothly. ”He is an angel born of the Upper Heavens. Even corrupted, his body contains a pristine, condensed quantity of pure divine essence and celestial spirituality.

Devouring his sea will refine your own divine soul, expanding your spiritual capacity as you patiently bide your time until your eventual ascension.”

Roy’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze locking onto the God of Information.

”How do you know...” Roy spoke slowly, his voice laced with sharp suspicion, ”...that I am intentionally delaying my ascension?”

Telvanus merely shrugged, his grin remaining completely unbothered by Roy’s lethal gaze. ”I am the God of Information, Roy. Nothing hidden beneath the stars escapes my record.

You have barely scratched the surface of the mortal plane. You have an empire to forge, continents to conquer, and mortal champions to nurture.

Why would you give up such boundless opportunities to rush into the Upper Heavens as a fledgling deity when you still have plenty of time before your divine deadline expires?”

Roy took a long, deep breath, letting the heavy air fill his lungs.

He turned his face away from Telvanus, looking down at the slumbering, six-winged angel one last time.

”Tell me one thing,” Roy asked softly, his eyes reflecting the dim light of the hall. ”When the time comes... can I create my own angels?”

Telvanus looked at him quietly before nodding.

”By divine law, only a King-tier True God earns the privilege to design and manifest their own angels. For only when a deity reaches the King-tier are they deemed fit to truly rule as absolute monarchs over their own paths.”

”I see...” Roy murmured.

He took a decisive step forward, stepping up to the edge of the stone altar.

”Then I have no use for another god’s broken servant.”

FSHHHHH!

Roy raised his right hand into the air.

A blinding, terrifying flare of crimson divine essence erupted from his palm like condensed starfire.

Space groaned around his arm as the crimson energy solidified, manifesting into a massive, heavy Crimson Broadsword forged entirely from his pure, unrefined divine essence.

The blade throbbed with a lethal, terrifying pressure that made the surrounding stone floor crack.

Without a single shadow of hesitation, Roy gripped the hilt with both hands and swung the broadsword down in a merciless, descending arc.

SLASH-CRACK!

The crimson blade cleaved through the air, severing the angel’s neck in a single, absolute strike.

Golden celestial blood exploded across the altar, and the angel’s divine soul shattered into thousands of glowing, pure ethereal fragments, swirling in the air like a vortex of liquid light—ready to be consumed.