Prayers resonated from every corner of the country, intertwining with the footsteps of thousands of worshippers as they made their way to their respective temples for the year-end ritual. This sacred ceremony would select the most devoted worshippers—those who had dedicated themselves completely to satisfying their god also known as the Divine Pupils. They would be chosen to become vessels of Divine power through the sacred Selection Ritual—the Ritual of the Chosen Pupils.
Jack, who had been waiting in front of the temple, was now accompanied by three other Divine Pupils...Jack glanced around, noting the dwindling crowd. "Only three Divine Pupils have come this year." He sighed, muttering to himself, " Every year there are fewer. It seems like everyone has lost hope in you."
"Haha…" A bitter laugh escaped him.
"I brought this suffering upon myself. Why did I choose to serve a god so impossible to satisfy?
But then again, what mortal soul could resist such power? An unimaginable force capable of manipulating and reshaping life itself. That's the terrifying power of God Cellaris. I've tried to please you, studying knowledge and sacrificing my life, only to remain unchosen after 160 years.
But throughout all that time, you never deemed anyone worthy of your choice. This has become my sole comfort, because it means my failure isn't due to me, but to you, God. What do you truly want, God Cellaris? Is your power so immense that no one is worthy of it anymore?"
Screeeh…!
The massive stone doors of the Temple of Marpoghen—the sacred dwelling of the God Cellaris—groaned open with an eerie, organic creak. Their surface was etched with pulsating veins, throbbing in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. This signified the ritual procession was about to commence.
The temple guardian emerged from the sacred halls. The Sanctaris, as they were known, were once mortal priests who had willingly surrendered their body, soul, and spirit to become the divine's extension—a perfect bridge between gods and mortals. For they were the living will of the temple.
The Sanctaris closed its third eye—the eye that perceived the affairs of the gods—and opened its two mortal eyes to gaze upon the worshippers of God Cellaris.
Their voices reverberated through the hollowed temple, a high-frequency wail, like the agonized cries of the suffering. Their vocal cords, ravaged and strained, had been torn apart by the unnatural growth of a second set—one not meant for mortal ears, but for uttering sounds that only the gods could hear.
"APPROACH! CHILDREN OF GOD CELLARIS"
Jack stepped forward, presenting his body—a patchwork of a thousand old scars and fresh wounds. The other Divine Pupils bore their own scars. But their young bodies had yet to undergo many modifications. They carried only one wound each.
The first, her mouth sewn shut, had it replaced by a vocal modulator—a body modification that enabled her to emit ultrasonic waves.
The second had rows of crystalline antennae growing from his head, connected to his eardrums. This modification allowed him to detect various frequency waves.
Meanwhile, the third's original eyes had been removed, replaced with orb-like lenses. This new modification granted him multispectral vision.
To become a Divine Pupil of Cellaris was to worship with prayer and flesh, pray with scalpels, every implant a sacred hymn, every scar a verse in Her scripture.
The Sanctaris extended its two additional arms—semi-transparent limbs that existed solely for divine matters. From these ethereal hands, it raised its claws and drove them into the temple wall. The wall peeled away like rotting flesh, revealing the Birthing Chamber. Then, from within, a tiny speck of light emerged.
The flicker of light pulsed—once, twice—then ruptured into a grotesque metamorphosis. Thousands of eyes bloomed, only to shatter and reshape into flesh, bone, and sinew.
Flesh unraveled, bones twisting.
Veins of muscle intertwined, merging, crafting limbs.
The sight was truly magnificent, but no throng of devotees gathered to bear witness.
No hopeful faces, no whispered prayers.
Only the wind carried the memories of crowds that once stood in reverence, before centuries of rejection taught them better.
Gradually, emerging from the rift of the open dimensional portal, a magical Beast was born. It bore a resemblance to an axolotl, yet possessed unique, refined features that set it apart. Its body was almost transparent, made up of millions of cells that pulsed gently, shimmering beneath the light of the temple's altar.
As Jack witnessed the birth of God Cellaris' power, a deep sense of despair took root within him, and he whispered a desperate plea.
"Come on, God Cellaris, I know you want this. I've forced myself to live on this earth for 220 years. Every inch of this nearly shattered body
told the tale of countless trials, a soul shaped by struggle and wisdom, filled with the weight of experience and the essence of resilience. I can bestow upon you a life filled with stories beyond measure."
Jack continued. "For more than 160 years, every cell in this body has been forced to endure unimaginable pain—pain no human should ever know. Yet I bore it all, I bore the agony, to serve you and learn your power. Because now, only your power can help me fulfill the purpose I've spent my life chasing."
Jack's expression darkened, eyes burning with fierce determination.
"I bear the weight of a promise that must be fulfilled, a soul shackled in torment that begs for release, a lie hidden deep within the fabric of fate that demands to be unraveled. And before me stands an enemy—one who wields the strength of the divine, an obstacle I must destroy. To face them, I must transcend this mortal shell. I must become a God myself."
His eyes locked onto the statue, his voice trembling with intensity.
"So come to me, God Cellaris, and pour your endless power into these weary bones. Let me, who has walked this path of agony, who has sacrificed everything, finally taste the full, unyielding might of your Divine essence."
Jack had long pondered the weight of his decision, knowing that if he had to bear the burden of suffering for a century, it would only be for a creature of unimaginable strength. The beast that would bind itself to him would not be ordinary—it would carry within its essence a power vast enough to destroy and rebuild the worlds, a force capable of shaping his destiny and fulfilling his most elusive goal.
The beast, its body still covered in amniotic fluid, struggled to rise, its body trembling. Sowly, it rose and moved toward the Divine Pupils. It moved like liquid starlight—beautiful, yet utterly alien—circling the younger pupils with only passing interest, before drawing closer to Jack. Then it stopped before Jack.
The beast's gills flared, inhaling the scent of Jack's sacrifice. Was it enough?
Jack's gaze locked onto the Beast's star-pooled eyes.
"Come on, kid," he willed silently, "look at this wreck of a man. Two centuries of scars. Organs rebuilt over and over. Even my tears burn with devotion—have you ever seen a sacrifice like this?"
The beast didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
It simply existed before him, its gelatinous body shimmering with indifferent light.
Seconds, congealed into eternity. Jack felt the pain course through his body again, but the pain was familiar—an old companion. What terrified him was the emptiness in the creature's stare.
No.
Not again.
The hope in his chest curled like burning paper, each passing moment reducing it to ash.
..
…
….
Then—
slowly, the beast started to move, inch by inch, bowing its head.
The temple shuddered.
Cellaris had finally answered.
After more than a century of silence…
There was no mistaking it now—the beast had made its choice. Old man Jack would be its master.
Ahhh…"
A sound escaped him, half-laugh, half-sob, as the creature nuzzled into his palm. "You clever thing. You waited until I had nothing left to give…didn't you?"
The relief in his chest hurt more than any wound.
At last, the countless years of sacrifice had not been in vain. The beast now nestled in his lap was living proof that his devotion had finally been rewarded.
"Chik... chik," the beast made a soft, endearing sound as it was gently stroked by Jack.
Here, now—resting in his lap was a beast, pressing its trust into his battered, broken, nearly lifeless body—Jack understood,
God Cellaris didn't choose the worthy.
It chose those who could endure the longest, who could withstand the most suffering.
Once the beasts had chosen their masters, the Sanctaris would solemnly complete the ritual by announcing the name of the chosen disciple, he began:
"People of the God Cellaris. I present to you the one deemed worthy to bear the divine power of God Cellaris, chosen by the beasts within the hallowed halls of the Morphogen Temple…"
The Sanctaris' voice grew even louder, filled with solemn pride as he continued:
"Let us raise our voices in celebration, for the future hero of our nation has arrived! From Biomara, the village of life,
behold the chosen one—Jack Montgomery!"