Gods (1): The Heart of the Earth
Dwarf Grand Blacksmith's Symbol — Hammer forged from pure black iron, the world's hardest metal, adamantium. Its rhythmic strikes echo the earth's heartbeat.
Grants the right to smelt any metal. Winner of the dwarven forging tournament every five years claims its use and the title for half a decade — along with the duty to represent all dwarves.
Legend claims it shatters even dragon scales. (Authenticity unverified.)
The world began developing at a breakneck pace.
Humans banded together, forming villages large and small. With primitive clothing and thriving agriculture yielding unprecedented living conditions, the next explosion was inevitable: a population boom.
The previous surge had scattered humans worldwide faster than food could keep up, but now with ample supplies, it fueled ever-larger settlements.
Anyway, that's the humans' story for now.
As for the other races...
The dwarves tunneled deep into mountains, unearthing new metals. Wait — that hammer was for smelting iron! Not smashing rocks to dig caves! Sure, nothing withstands it, but that's not the point! The purpose!
Ahem. Whatever, ignore the dwarves. Too deep underground to monitor easily. I tried a scrying spell, but visibility drops off sharply. And seeing them burrow with my gift? Speechless.
Next, the elves. They lived quietly around the world tree, never straying far. Hunting with bows and arrows grown from trees, grilling meat over fires borrowed from fire spirits, communing with elementals. Textbook fantasy elves — aside from being pure carnivores. Under Yggdrasil's shade, their numbers grew slowly. Plenty of new births, too.
Come to think of it, transmigrations from human to elf are tapering off. Probably because word spread they're basically all-meat eaters. Humans were half-omnivores, after all.
Lizardmen next. They lived peacefully as always. Expanding territory with spirit shamanism and campfires, but never greedy enough for conflicts. Anyone facing their tough hides would lose the urge anyway.
Beastkin mingled seamlessly among humans, leveraging their animal traits to blend into society.
And giants? Battling beasts in frigid wilds. Their sheer size made them apex predators in their domains.
Thus, diverse subraces and humans formed villages, competing and cooperating, birthing cities. The grandest housed the owner of the crown I'd given — ruling with overwhelming charisma, their prosperity unmatched.
A true nation might emerge soon...
I watched civilizations unfold without interfering, curious about their paths. It felt like a sim game crammed with AIs — or watching a strategy stream. Just observing was entertaining enough.
As I did, new things emerged among humans.
First: writing. A way to record language. The tongue I'd taught dragons and Lizardmen had spread, creating a common speech — but no script.
Humans birthed primitive pictographs, drawing objects. Origin? Lizardmen stone tablets, naturally. Their carvings evolved into writing inevitably; those slabs would be the first records.
Passed to humans, the drawings simplified into basic ideographs.
But primitive ideographs, symbolic as the first writing, didn't catch on widely. Each word-symbol was intuitive, but thousands existed, more art than script — hard to learn.
Had I not anonymously spread a consonant-vowel alphabet? They'd have suffered with pictographs for centuries.
Thus, writing proliferated across races, sparking myriad changes.
Most striking: primitive faiths.
Born to explain nature's mysteries humans couldn't grasp, these formless, disparate "gods" drew power from belief, slowly taking shape. Barely above lesser spirits, still.
Example: A thunder god from giants' fear. Towering heights made lightning lethal; sensing strikes, they'd cower, imagining a furious father giant bellowing. Posture saved lives, deaths plummeted.
Thus, the terrifying father — sky-scraping, thunderous roars scolding young — was born from dread.
And me? Already deemed a god.
With writing, lost Lizardmen faith poured toward me — as if literacy proved divinity.
I knew for sure thanks to...
✉️ A small envelope icon appeared in the corner of my vision.
What is a god? What is faith?
Lizardmen say: The Genesis Dragon is the greatest god who forged this world.
Elves say: The great mother world tree Yggdrasil is nature's guardian deity.
Dwarves say: The silent holy mountain Sagarmatha is the pillar upholding the world.
Beastkin idolizing primal beasts, giants revering father giants, mermaids worshiping vast currents. Even the Life Church adoring the Goddess of Life.
All cry out to gods, yet they ignore — or deny — the truth.
Gods arise from phenomena intellects fail to explain.
I write to correct this. I anticipate the shock, yet I won't stop. Humanity's intellect stagnates under godly illusions.
This book is designated contraband by the kingdom.
Reading it alone incurs excommunication from the Pantheon.