Book 11: Chapter 32: The Path to Godhood

What everyone didn’t know was that on the very night they left their rest spot, there were actually two other uninvited guests present.

Their Constitutions were rather special, though. One hid in a temporary plane, while the other blended into the shadows completely. Even Qin Lun’s Staring Aura failed to detect them.

As a Hunter’s exclusive skill, especially after merging with “Gannett’s Left Eye,” the Staring Aura offered strong reconnaissance. However, Qin Lun was only High Rank. No matter his ability to fight plot High Ranks or Legendary Powerhouses, his actual Rank was a limiting factor. Creatures two Orders above him could override the Staring Aura’s detection effect through level differences.

After Qin Lun and the others departed, these two tails reappeared. Linda glared fiercely at the figure opposite her, her usually gentle, likeable face twisted with disgust. “So what bounty hunt are you on this time?”

“Haha, is that any business of yours, Miss Linda?” The shadow shrouded himself tightly in his cloak, covering his entire form. A careful look revealed he was coiled and ready, clearly wary of Linda.

“Hmph! I don’t care what you’re after,” Linda retorted, hugging her arms and flicking her ponytail. “Just don’t touch the three Thornblood Mercenaries or Sif.”

“Haha, the Thornblood Mercenaries and that noble brat aren’t my targets,” the short shadow chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “So that means you don’t care about the rest of that group, huh? Then why did you stall the Ghostface Squid chasing them last night?”

Unbeknownst to Qin Lun’s group, someone had indeed aided them just before they reached shore the previous night. Had Linda not interfered stealthily, the Ghostface Squid would have caught them much earlier.

That Meteor Fall had inflicted heavy damage on the squid, but the magic’s duration was short, buying little time. The reason the squid failed to pursue immediately was Linda’s entanglement.

Of course, facing the Ghostface Squid was tough even for Linda. Had the huge sea beast not been grievously injured, she might even have revealed herself to fight alongside Rick and the others at one point.

Linda herself wasn’t a Legendary Powerhouse, whereas the bounty assassin before her truly was. However, Linda’s class was unique. She possessed high combat effectiveness and countered this assassin somewhat. Unless the Assassin resorted to his Legendary Domain, the pair were fairly evenly matched.

The bounty assassin couldn’t kill Linda, nor dared he easily. The principle of “trouble the apprentice, face the master” held true across worlds. While unafraid of Linda, her master was a different matter. That being, perhaps a Wizard or something else, had lived for over a thousand years. Even his shadow sight couldn’t pierce the depths of that ancient one’s power.

No matter his formidable assassination skills, tangling with a Wizard beyond the Legendary Rank was never a pleasant prospect.

“Hmph! Since when does a lady like me need to report to you?” Linda sniffed haughtily, her demeanor a stark contrast to the sweet, gentle receptionist at the Mercenary Guild. She hesitated, muttering almost to herself, “I recommended such a difficult quest to Rick and the others. Of course I have to ensure their safety!”

The assassin opposite listened, wanting to laugh. Linda had been a registration clerk at the Mercenary Guild for years. Many Mercenaries knew her, yet no one could say exactly when she’d first appeared there.

After working amidst such a rough, mixed crowd for so long, how could this girl remain a stubborn, proud young lady?

Frankly, the bounty assassin himself had witnessed her manipulate disliked Mercenaries time and again, even recommending altered, perilous quests—quests they eagerly accepted nonetheless.

“And what’s with that look? Don’t believe me?” The girl flailed her arms threateningly. Though masked, the assassin’s body language made it clear: disbelief. Her biggest skill learned from years at the guild was reading people.

“Anyway, I’ve warned you,” Linda snapped, curling her lip. “Don’t touch Rick’s three, or Sif. The others? Do whatever you want.” She shot him a disdainful glance. “But I advise you to drop this bounty. Losing your life over it isn’t worth it. You’ve seen it yourself—the others seem kind of… off. Facing them? Don’t be so sure you’d win.”

The assassin’s gaze flickered behind his veil, but he didn’t argue. He’d followed, enjoying the unfolding drama, yet growing increasingly cautious as time passed. He’d hesitated, never finding the right moment to strike.

Earlier, he hadn’t known Mastashia was a Harpist. Tracking them revealed her strangeness. Eventually, both he and Linda connected her to members of secret organizations, including the Harpers Alliance.

This discovery heightened the assassin’s wariness. Harpists were notorious lunatics; their involvement guaranteed major trouble. The Thornblood Trio and Sif had straightforward backgrounds, nothing too complex.

While Rick’s trio had complicated actual identities, attracting a Harper Master still seemed improbable. Therefore, the other three—Qin Lun’s group—were hiding far more terrifying secrets.

Indeed, last night, during the Ghostface Squid’s pursuit of Qin Lun’s party, the assassin found no opening to strike. The Death Lands were incredibly dangerous. Even this highly skilled Legendary assassin faced perilous situations repeatedly—less a pleasant journey, more a chain of near-disasters.

While the squid hunted that group, the assassin faced dangers too, emerging far worse off than Qin Lun’s people. He encountered Nightmare Mosquitoes that saw through stealth. Only by activating his domain, fleeing into shadow, did he narrowly avoid being drained dry.

“Well, see you around!” Seeing the assassin rooted, seemingly re-evaluating the mission, Linda smirked triumphantly. She tapped her toes lightly and vanished.

Yet, after walking for a while, hesitation clouded her face again. She’d thoroughly disobeyed her master. Following this team so long meant Candlekeep was unreachable now. Still, she couldn’t bear to quit.

Despite the constant dangers, this adventure brought her endless fun. It was like an addiction, gripping ever tighter. At first, she made excuses. Later, she embraced her disobedience, thoughts like “Too late now, might as well enjoy it!” justifying her path.

After Linda left, the assassin remained conflicted. The more he uncovered, the more cautious he became. The Harpist had sought out Qin Lun herself. The assassin had observed their battle at the edge of the Death Lands.

He hadn’t heard the conversation, but clearly, the Harpist initiated contact. This proved Qin Lun—or at least someone among his trio—held significant status. Their life or death mattered far beyond personal consequence, impacting a region, perhaps even a nation.

Truthfully, the assassin now felt little desire for the bounty. No matter how generous Umberlee’s Church offered, his life outweighed any reward.

Fighting Harpists held no appeal to him. Most independent Legendary Powerhouses across Faerûn felt similarly about confronting the Zhentarim and Harpers Alliance—famed breeding grounds for fanatics. Sane professionals kept their distance.

His continued tracking wasn’t primarily for the bounty. A flicker of greed shone in the diminutive Shadow Assassin’s eyes as he thought of the real prize.

“The treasure of the Legendary Pirate Balduran!”

As a Legendary Powerhouse who’d spent much of his career around Baldur’s Gate, he knew far more than the average person about the legendary pirate.

Among the ancient rumors he’d heard, Balduran wasn’t merely Legendary. The Pirate King was a figure of true Legend. This referred not just to power, but to his extraordinary life.

Myths claimed Balduran had vanished. Yet, some whispered he’d become a god. His legendary exploits spread widely, perhaps fueling his ascension. The wealth of a mere Legendary might be noteworthy, but what if the Legend had become a demi-god or even a deity?

Whether Balduran had succeeded or not, his final legacy left on the Prime Material World would be immensely valuable. That was worth a Legendary Assassin’s risk.

For Legendary Powerhouses, reaching beyond their current Rank was incredibly difficult—rarer than ordinary people achieving Legendary status. It delved into realms far more arcane.

Above Legendary lay the domain of the gods. Only two paths existed to enter it. The first involved establishing faith around a domain, concentrating devotion upon it until it became a Divine Portfolio. This transformed a Legendary into a demi-god, the form a god takes while still anchored to the Prime Material World.

This represented the most common path to godhood. The world held countless potential Portfolios. By finding the right one, a demi-god always stood a chance of fully ascending.

Should that Portfolio belong to a powerful existing god, the demi-god could choose to pledge their following to that god’s Divine Pantheon. Strong deities rarely refused such alliances; Pantheon strength benefited them all.

Should the demi-god refuse, the result would be a deadly Proxy War: Winner takes the faith; loser forfeits their Portfolio and faces permanent destruction.

Contrary to popular tales of god-slaying, demi-gods (or full gods) couldn’t be utterly annihilated—only diminished—so long as faith itself endured.

Naturally, faith-based deification had flaws. A Portfolio’s core concept faced inevitable obsoletion as the Prime Material World advanced. Yet, altering a solidified Portfolio proved immensely difficult, leading to eventual divine downfall.

Examples spanned history. Consider the god of the ancient Lizardfolk. They worshipped procreation and slaughter. As Elves migrated to Faerûn, bringing their advanced civilization, the primitive Lizardfolk civilization declined. Faith focused purely on reproduction and murder faded, and their god fell.

The second path relied solely upon raw power accumulation. Faerûn’s most famous rumor? “Where Demi-Liches roam and Legendaries swarm like dogs.” “Demi-Lich” referred here to beings nearing the level of Demi-God—embodiments of the power-path approach.

Demi-Liches hovered just below true godhood, awaiting a final spark. Should they successfully slay a god and claim its Divine Spark, they achieved deification. This method, however, usually draws condemnation and retaliation from other divinities. Truly successful cases remained vanishingly rare.

The very air hummed with arcane potential. His senses, attuned to echoes of power, throbbed faintly near the textual residue of the demi-god ritual description. The Shadow Weave pulsed like a sluggish heartbeat within the stone around him. He recognized the scent – ozone mixed with petrichor and something metallic, ancient blood maybe? A primal echo of the power struggle described, perhaps lingering psychic residue from the author delving into these cosmic mechanics. It tugged at the edges of his own practiced detachment… Gods. So much power. Raw, terrifying, tantalizing. His fingers curled into fists, knuckles white. Forbidden knowledge shimmered like heat over dunes. Yes… Yes. Worth any risk.