𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 4 Chapter 155 JAYLAH
Being a god was excruciating.
For the first moments, all Jaylah saw was black. There was so much input that it instantly overloaded her feeble brain. She was no longer inside her skin, those breakable bones could not hold her. She was her father, she was the half-crumbled statues watching on, she was the devils on the battlefield, she was the young naga as it died, plunging headfirst into the earth.
Every inch of her physical body was racked with pain so great it could not be compared to any human version of agony. To be a god was to be maximized in every aspect, and she felt it. Gods, did she feel it. It was as though her flesh was being torn apart by the too-big deity inside. When she looked down upon her mortal self, nothing was different, and still she was dizzyingly out of place.
Pain, she could probably handle. It was not a new concept, even if the strength of it was. But the disembodied voice in her mind...the urges... Draven wanted her to gather her Godfire and launch it upon the world that his brethren so loved. He wanted her to launch another extermination on its people, weaving their minds into a tapestry of suffering before they died. When she got the inclination to drive her sword through her own neck, she was not sure if it was his or her own.
Jaylah's body crumpled. She did not feel the cold slap of the marble floor, but she saw it from above. Even such a minute shard of Draven's essence was burning her apart. How had her father not slit his own throat by now? She had done something horribly wrong. If Aegeus Imperator had cordially invited Draven in with a welcome present in his hand and a business proposal, she had blindfolded the god, kidnapped him, and forced him in. No deity would show mercy after that.
The punishment fit the crime. Jaylah could quite literally feel her nerve endings being melted away, her brain liquified in its shaking cage of bone. Every violent cruelty of hers—tearing out throats, ripping off fingernails, letting intestines spill—was returned tenfold to her then. It was not fair.
Before her eyes rolled back in her head, she caught another glimpse of the boy in the corner. Memories flashed through her mind of them together, the only home she knew anymore. Alexander.
She recalled how he attacked so fast even the god sitting in her father's body could barely keep up. He only predicted the attack because Jaylah's expression changed so drastically, because her eyes had flicked over Imperator's shoulder. If she had not given Alexander away, he would have finished cutting the human tyrant's head off. He would still be alive.
When she really focused on him, she saw the last dregs of life leaving his battered body, flying up and dissipating into nothing. It still existed, just barely. Maybe...maybe he was not yet lost.
Imperator was gripping his head and struggling to remain on his feet and conscious. Rage, hot, molten rage filled Jaylah's every thought. Suddenly, the god's manic commands melded into a steady hum of violence. She was not sure who wanted it more. Kill him kill him kill him—
