Assimilate All Talents

Chapter 320: God of Premeditated Murder

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.

"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.