Assimilate All Talents

Deep within the void of space lay a rocky desert planet. It appeared barren, lifeless—a desolate wasteland. Though it had the basic necessities for life, such as oxygen, vegetation, and water, these were present in such meager quantities that supporting any significant population was impossible. The planet endured extreme temperatures and grueling 22-hour-long days, a consequence of its orbit between two relentless suns. Yet, despite its inhospitable nature, a race had managed to thrive here: the Drevods.

The Drevods were a hardy, ant-like humanoid race. Small in stature but large in resilience, they lived deep beneath the planet’s surface. Their survival hinged on a sprawling network of tunnels that stretched hundreds of miles, connecting all members of their society into a unified nest. Underground, they created a fragile but reliable ecosystem, securing food, water, and other essentials. While their resources were far from abundant compared to the flourishing worlds of higher-tiered planets, the Drevods considered themselves fortunate. After all, of the countless races scattered across the universe, fewer than 1% could claim an entire planet as their own.

Even their seemingly insignificant world was coveted by lesser races and organizations, leading to numerous invasions. However, the Drevods defended their home time and again. The reason for which was because they had an advantage their enemies lacked, a god.

Piloc, the God of Glass.

Once a Drevod like them, Piloc ascended to godhood, becoming their eternal protector. He shielded the Drevods from the perils of the universe. To honor their god, the Drevods carved a colossal chamber within their tunnels and built a magnificent palace. Despite their limited resources, they spared no expense, importing rare, costly materials to make the palace a symbol of reverence and awe.

At the heart of their tunnel network stood this crystalline palace. Its deep blue walls, reminiscent of the ocean, embodied the Drevods’ vision of regality. Within the palace’s depths was the grand throne room, a chamber befitting a god, where Piloc spent his days pursuing enlightenment and mastering his divine law.

But today, enlightenment had eluded him.

Piloc sat lifeless on his throne, his glassy bug eyes staring blankly ahead. A stab wound marred his chest, black veins radiating outward like a sinister web, a stark contrast to his once majestic form that the Drevods revered.

At the foot of the throne sat his murderer.

A goblin adorned with a red cape trimmed in black and a crown perched atop his head lounged casually on the steps. His appearance mirrored that of a certain idol, but his expression was one of irritation. This was Ikonel, the God of Premeditated Murder.

Ikonel cast a disdainful glance back at Piloc’s lifeless form, his lips curling into a sneer. "Traveled all this way hoping for something worthwhile, and this grotesque insect doesn’t even have a single divine artifact. Not even a pseudo divine one. What a waste of time."

Stolen story; please report.

He stood with a huff, his annoyance palpable. The journey to this planet had been long, spurred by rumors of its lone deity which he believed would be a promising, easy target. And while he was correct that it was easy, all his effort had yielded nothing of value.

Before departing, Ikonel paused. A prayer reached him, a faint call for aid. Ordinarily, such pleas fell on deaf ears. His followers, predominantly goblins, offered decent faith but were too short lived for him to invest in. After all, goblins were a scattered, weak race, prone to perishing in droves against even minor adversity. Though some goblins were able to organize themselves and had even created empires they already had gods they worshiped so he was only stuck with the scattered tribes and loners.

Ikonel was about to ignore the request like others before, but he realized this prayer was different from the rest.

It came not from a random follower but from his Chosen, Gerbil. Selected after much effort finding candidates, Gerbil was the mortal Ikonel had deemed most attuned to his law. Through their connection, Ikonel observed the situation and understood he truly was in dire straits.

"Hm..." Ikonel muttered, his tone contemplative. "First time he’s asking for help. Would be a shame to let him die now… He’s been doing well gathering faith."

Gerbil had been spreading Ikonel’s name across goblin tribes in his planet and even minor races like kobolds and lizardmen. That faith, however meager, bolstered Ikonel’s power.

With a flick of his wrist, Ikonel bestowed a boon which consisted of less than 1% of his law’s essence. "That should be enough to handle it." Ikonel mused.

Confident in his Chosen’s survival, he didn’t stay to wait for the results. Ikonel turned and began his departure, planning to explore the planet a bit to make sure he didn’t accidentally miss anything good. Yet, as he neared the palace’s exit, a shocking realization stopped him cold.

"He’s… dead?"

Ikonel wouldn’t have believed it if not for the connection between himself and Gerbil had been severed. The god blinked in mild disbelief. Even with the boon he granted, his Chosen had perished. He frowned, though not from grief.

"Unfortunate." he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Guess I should’ve chosen better."

Gerbil’s death was a setback, but Ikonel had already begun to move on. "The second best candidate will have to do. She should do well and the area she is at has few followers." he decided, recalling the previous candidates he found scattered throughout the universe.

Before proceeding, however, he sought to reclaim the fragment of his law he had bestowed. Through his will, he began drawing the power back. But as it neared completion, something resisted, a force pulling against his claim.

Ikonel’s expression darkened. "Who dares?"

He had never encountered a situation like this before where someone was attempting to steal his blessing. He obviously wouldn’t have any of that and enacted his will even harder, pulling the essence of the law closer to himself. But the force attempting to take it didn’t relent either. A fierce struggle ensued as neither side wanted to relent. Eventually the remaining fraction split in two. Though he succeeded in retrieving most of his essence, a sliver, consisting of only 0.1%, broke away. He felt it slip from his grasp entirely, unable to even sense where it went.

Rage boiled within him. With a feral roar, Ikonel drove his fist into a nearby wall, shattering the entire left side of the palace in an explosive display of power.

His voice dropped to a menacing growl as he glared at the destruction. "A god thinks they can steal from me? If I ever find out who you are…"

A deadly black aura surrounded the god causing even the ground beneath him to decay rapidly. The death of his Chosen was acceptable, a small loss at best. But to steal a part of his law, no matter how miniscule it was, crossed the line.