A Match Made in Heaven

Given Anbaixiu's current status and stature, a single ninth-ring spell held little real significance for him. As long as wealth kept flowing to him in a steady stream, paying to cast spells let him unleash Storm of Vengeance with ease anyway. Yet having a gift from Talos branded onto him only handed the god an excuse to meddle in his affairs. Yet divine boons did not require mortal consent. So long as no malicious trap was concealed within, deities were virtually unrestricted in how they bestowed their power. Back when Shar had shared the knowledge of the Shadow Weave with Anbaixiu, it merely served as a tracking beacon; she could not use it to harm him directly. And when Loviatar forcibly elevated Anbaixiu to legendary status, reclaiming the unwanted power of destiny, she had left no lethal trap either—she merely capped the upper limit of Anbaixiu's Destiny Weaving ability. Thus, Anbaixiu was not worried that the thunder mark on his hand would suddenly zap him into ash. It was just that such a boon could not be refused. Ao was still far too lenient. The Overgod should pass a decree punishing any deity who handed out unwanted boons willy-nilly—ideally striking Talos dead with lightning on the spot, then transferring his divine portfolio to Anbaixiu. Only that could be considered truly fair and just. Alas, Ao would never heed his sincere counsel. Such was the plight of mortals—powerless and ignored. If only those aloof gods had the guts to descend to the mortal plane and fight him face-to-face with blade and spear! His lament concluded, Anbaixiu had to consider what kind of trap Talos might set for him. As a well-known greater deity, Talos possessed unquestionable might. He was the sort of reckless brute who openly advertised the location of his divine realm to all the gods. Finding Talos was simple enough: any god could march straight up to his realm and duel him if they dared. And Talos had many enemies. The Lord of the Dawn, for instance, had found him an eyesore for years, yet across all that time had failed to strip away even a single hair from Talos. That alone showed just how terrifying Talos's strength was. It was inevitable; a deity's power was generally divided into three components: their divine portfolio was the primary factor, followed by their divine rank, and finally their true form. Take Tiamat, for example. Her portfolio was tied to chromatic dragons, making her a racial deity. On a scale of ten, this category would only rate a six; dragons were powerful enough on their own, so the portfolio was by no means weak. As for divine rank, she could get two points at most—Tiamat had never studied divine power deeply, and her application of it was mediocre at best. However, Tiamat's true form earned an eight, maybe even a nine. Apologies, but dragon gods were just that absurdly strong; even without touching divine power, they could crush a swarm of lesser gods beneath their talons. The Lord of the Dawn, on the other hand, was a faith deity. His portfolio was tied to light—broad and grand enough to warrant a seven or eight. His divine rank was that of a greater deity, but because he was heavily beholden to faith, given the current turmoil in Ryan, his rank might barely scrape a passing grade of six. As for his true form, rumors held that the Lord of the Dawn was once a mortal who ascended to godhood; his original form was merely a frail human. He gained virtually no inherent advantage there, so even giving him two points was generous. Calculated this way, Tiamat could actually wrestle with the Lord of the Dawn. If they truly clashed, Tiamat might not win—after all, the Lord of the Dawn had an immense reserve of faith power to squander—yet the Lord of the Dawn certainly wouldn't win easily either. Now consider Talos. His portfolios revolved around destruction, vengeance, and cataclysms! Just listen to those titles—every single one represented power dreadful enough to terrify the gods. When it came to combat prowess and destructive capability, Talos's portfolios easily scored a ten. Next, as a conceptual deity holding the status of a greater deity, even deducting points for his bratty temper and volatile fury, he still earned at least an eight. Finally, his true form. Rumors said Talos was an ancient titan giant, not a whit inferior to the dragon gods. Add to that his nature as a battle maniac, and he would score a nine, if not a full ten. These scores were merely Anbaixiu's rough estimates; an actual battle would never be so simplistic. After all, even Overgod Ao had things stolen from him. Any deity could fall victim to an ambush, and divine conflicts could never be settled simply by comparing stat sheets. Still, no matter how much the Goddess of Fate flirted with Anbaixiu, he could not ignore these fundamental realities. Talos was a mighty god—the kind who could truly destroy a world with a single sneeze. His immense power meant he could influence Anbaixiu in countless ways. Take that fool Aeolus: he was merely a plaything Talos had molded on a whim. And if the god threw a real tantrum, churning out ten Aeoluses a day would be child's play. Direct confrontation offered not the slightest hope of victory, leaving Anbaixiu no choice but to find a way to satisfy Talos's demands. That brought him back to the critical question: what did Talos actually want? Compared to other enigmatic, whispering deities, Talos was relatively straightforward. From their interactions, he was simply an unruly brat—fickle, greedy for novelty, and addicted to excitement. Yet Talos's demand was bizarre: a wedding? What significance could a wedding hold for Talos? Had he been single so long that he wanted to catch the bridal bouquet? Without figuring this out, Anbaixiu felt completely at a loss on how to proceed. At this very moment, Talos sat high amid the ruins of his divine realm, observing Anbaixiu with keen amusement. With that brand in place, he could pinpoint Anbaixiu's location and monitor his movements at any time. This lich was quite intriguing, far more entertaining than that idiot Aeolus. Talos had deliberately spoken in vague terms, much like scattering heaps of gravel around an anthill just to see if the ants could find an escape route through the deadly maze. Talos relished this sort of game. He was already mighty enough that he rarely needed to think; in that case, letting mortals use their wits to amuse him made for a splendid pastime. "What will this lich do?" Beneath Talos's expectant gaze, Anbaixiu did one thing: he reached out to his mentor, the God of Alchemy. Though he had lost the Gold Coin artifact, Anbaixiu didn't need it to contact the God of Alchemy anyway. Every magic mirror was linked to the God of Alchemy's divine realm; Anbaixiu could pick any magic mirror and dial up his teacher whenever he pleased. Of course, this required the God of Alchemy's consent. No one else enjoyed such a privilege. The God of Alchemy was holding something that resembled a hammer, crafted from dazzling, radiant crystals. Before him stood a clutter of apparatus that even Anbaixiu could not recognize; he appeared to be running an experiment. Assembling the scattered components, the God of Alchemy asked, "Didn't I already transfer the money to you? You didn't come to audit my books, did you, boy?" Anbaixiu thought, *Not that it wouldn't be justified—who knows if you took a kickback on Gustavo Fring's end—*but now was not the time for that. "The Lord of Storms has his eye on me." Anbaixiu raised his hand and displayed the mark to the God of Alchemy. The God of Alchemy's hands trembled so violently that he dropped the crystal hammer. It struck the workbench and erupted in a blinding, terrifying flash, incinerating everything on the table to ash. The God of Alchemy waved away the smoke and casually brushed his hand over the table. As though nothing had occurred, every single component reverted to its original state, including the crystal hammer. As the God of Alchemy, he could effortlessly reproduce any phase of any alchemical experiment. Still, the lack of material damage didn't mean he was unaffected. The God of Alchemy said helplessly, "Why did you have to provoke Talos again? Weren't you on great terms with his followers? Your teacher is only an intermediate deity—I really can't stand against Talos." Who among the pantheon dared claim they could withstand that brutal, mighty god? Even if the God of Alchemy were to advance to a greater deity, he would still be hopelessly outmatched; there wasn't even a need to ponder the possibility. "Don't be so pessimistic. Look closely—this is a blessing. Talos granted me the power to freely cast Storm of Vengeance once a day," Anbaixiu told him. The God of Alchemy scoffed, "You're my student. Do you think I don't know what you're like? If it were truly a windfall, would you ever tell me?" Anbaixiu retorted, "Now that hurts my feelings. Your divine power has been soaring by leaps and bounds lately—it's not like I can't sense it. How can you claim I've never brought you any benefits?" As the Black Tide showed itself on more and more battlefields, and as the clientele for Anbaixiu's undead alchemy grew, people across the world were developing fresh impressions of alchemy. On top of that, the widespread circulation of magic mirrors had allowed influential figures everywhere to realize the profound impact alchemy had on the world. This was undoubtedly the greatest boost to the God of Alchemy's advancement. By now, he had completely recovered from his prior weakness, and his divine power continued to swell; becoming a greater deity was only a matter of time. And by any measure, all of this was thanks to Anbaixiu. This master and apprentice were always trading snide remarks, yet both worked diligently for each other's sake behind the scenes. They had long been tied to the same thread of destiny: one prospered, both prospered; one fell, both suffered. The God of Alchemy sighed. "I'm not trying to shirk responsibility, but don't you know how monstrously strong Talos is? Why did you have to provoke him for no good reason?" The God of Alchemy felt utterly exasperated—it was like a child earning thousands of gold coins for the family, only to turn around and spit directly at the king. "I didn't provoke him!" Anbaixiu explained the whole situation with exasperation, then asked, "I just want to get some intelligence on the Lord of Storms from you. I don't believe he simply wants Ariel married off. I need to figure out what he's really after." Unfortunately, Talos was a deity; Anbaixiu could not use divination to glean information about him, leaving inquiry as his only option. He had expected the God of Alchemy to hesitate, but the god answered immediately: "The Lord of Storms simply loves watching mortals struggle for survival. The wedding isn't the point; what matters are the choices mortals make amidst catastrophe. He loves grand epics, mortal courage, and weeping tears of joy after overcoming agonizing tribulations. And then, he bestows glory upon the survivors." Sitting high above the ruins in his divine realm, Talos roared with laughter and declared smugly, "That minor God of Alchemy knows me quite well. That's right—that's exactly what I like! Though it is getting a bit cliché. I've grown sick of ordinary heroic epics. How many could ever be as thrilling as Arthur Ryan?" Talos withdrew his gaze. Now that the lich had found his direction, Talos couldn't keep watching; watching any further would spoil the plot, and then the rest of the story wouldn't be fun anymore. "Don't disappoint me, mortal, or I'll be very displeased. Hahaha!" Talos's voice echoed through the divine realm, transforming into ten thousand bolts of lightning that struck across the land. The worshippers struggling to survive knelt upon the ground, singing hymns of praise to Talos. And only after Talos withdrew his gaze did the God of Alchemy say to Anbaixiu, "All right, Talos has looked away. What that lunatic really wants to see is mortals struggling and screaming, just like pouring boiling water over an anthill. What wedding? If you ask me, what he truly wants to watch is a man juggling a crowd of women, only to be torn to shreds by them in the end. "The more gruesome the death, the better. And preferably right when he's on the verge of soothing every last woman, an irreconcilable conflict suddenly erupts, leaving a whole heap of people dead, with the male lead dying full of indignation and bitter regret. If you can stage a drama like that for him, it might just satisfy him." Anbaixiu: "..." What a fucking psychopath! The Lord of Storms and the Kuo-toa Goddess really were a match made in heaven!