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Earth-199999.
~3595 BE (Before Emergence) ~ 1570 BCE (Before Current Era).
"This was painted 15,874 years ago. I even lent them a bit of my blood to use as paint," Aragorn commented, his clawed fingers tracing the wall paintings carefully.
Aragorn had created a swarm of free-floating embers reminiscent of fireflies, clouding above them to serve as a light source. The soft-hued light from the flickering embers caused the cave's shadows to stretch in and out. It softly illuminated the wall paintings that, against all odds, remained immaculate despite the damp, acidic conditions of the crevice's environment.
"Your blood, A'Heelah?" Medusa glanced carefully at the painting of Aragorn's multiple forms he was observing. There was no red in the depictions. She then moved to another wall where Jean was painted. "Is it the red color in this flaming woman?"
"That's Jean, one of my daughters, though this one would never admit it," Aragorn commented without turning to the wall Medusa was referring to. "Do you know how I built the Obelisks?"
"No. The putrid apples never shared the story behind those. I know only what is public knowledge—word of mouth from the custodians inhabiting them," Medusa replied.
"Those Obelisks are built with something I named Dragon Ore. I make Dragon Ore by mixing my ground bones with my blood, among other, more metaphysical ingredients. This paint—all of it, not just the red parts—is made similarly, by altering the properties of my blood," Aragorn explained.
"... There's a painting about that over there." Medusa pointed deeper into the cave and motioned for him to follow. A short walk later, they stood before a crude painting depicting Aragorn pulling his bones out and mixing them with blood, followed by the image of a black Obelisk.
"I thought this was metaphorical, like you put so much effort into building the Obelisks that it could be considered you built them with your blood and bones," she said.
"Your emotions are giving you away. You're skeptical," Aragorn said.
"Do you blame me? The last time I held faithful belief in something, I ended up in this cursed cage." She motioned to her gorgon body. "I've lost count of how many different Obelisks I've seen in my life. I find it hard to believe you had enough bones and blood for such a gargantuan enterprise."
"No blame. I think it's good to hold doubt for that which you can't comprehend. Faith, although neutral in nature, can be poison to the mind and heart. I think you know what I speak of," Aragorn commented, unfazed by her doubts.
Medusa bitterly nodded.
In response, Aragorn grabbed his right arm and pulled hard, ripping it off. There was no bloodshed, no pain—only his arm being torn from its socket. From a certain angle, the inside of the socket seemed to be filled with glass or something transparent. Yet, an instant later, it had regrown, far faster than Medusa could recover from her initial shock.
"I regenerate, and my true body is that of a dragon." Aragorn pointed at the paintings of his dragon form, which tried but failed to capture his translucent nature. "I'm also far bigger than you could probably imagine. Though, to be fair, I used to take about a millennium per Obelisk, so it wasn't as you're imagining—I didn't build them all at once."
Medusa blinked, speechless, trying to process what she had seen and comprehend the scale on which her guest operated. Seeing her dumbstruck, Aragorn moved to the other pieces painted on the walls.
Medusa eventually joined him.
"Who is the flaming woman? I don't believe there are stories about her—at least, none that I heard during my time in that bitch's temple," Medusa asked, her gaze lingering on the paintings of a flaming bird, then a flaming woman, and finally, the woman dressed in green. It was painted that way to depict her transformation.
"That's Jean. As I said, she is one of the girls I raised and guided. She used to accompany me from time to time when I left our realm to build Obelisks or to make sure humanity wasn't going extinct.
"You have no idea how often that was a concern—diseases, temperature drops (because the world used to be much colder), shifting migratory patterns—these and many other threats loomed over humanity constantly. Jean is a soft-hearted girl," Aragorn turned to look at Medusa, "similar to how you were."
Medusa followed his lips, his lack of facial expressions, the movements of his tail, the patterns in the colors of his eyes, and the way he gesticulated with his hands. She didn't want to miss a single detail of the stories Aragorn was telling her.
Aragorn saw how much attention she was paying and soon realized that in the desolate land they were in—near Libya—there was no food, no entertainment, and no company—contrary to her myth, in which she was accompanied by her sisters. Anyone could connect the dots and understand that Medusa was starved for company, entertainment, and any meaningful interaction or distraction to take her mind off Athena's curse.
So, he began to accompany his words with illusions.
"Tell me about your family—these daughters you mentioned—and your realm, please," Medusa implored.
"Originally, there were fifty. All came from a batch that I stole from very disgusting mortals. I was looking for servants, so I figured I would do something good while at it. I was also not the most stable dragon back then—my decision-making skills were rusty.
"Then, from a distant realm called Otherworld—actually, you might recognize its creator since it was Gaea—three more came in. Initially, they were given to me as concubines, but I already had someone I loved, and she was/is a jealous woman.
"I saved one from the clutches of a demon—a being similar to your old deities, equally perverse, but more on the conquering side of the board. Jean was originally only my disciple, but soon enough, my love for her grew in my heart. Jean came attached with a certain lovable but annoying cat.
"One I received as payment after a certain collector friend of mine offended me. There is also one daughter I created—so, fifty-eight," Aragorn said.
Throughout his story, he made sure to show Medusa his Therions, their mortal forms to be precise—how they looked when he first met them.
"You, and 59 women—counting your partner?" Medusa asked, multiple questions swimming freely in her mind.
"More like 60 women. There was the head maid. But throughout all of this, there was my butler. Then I recovered another man from under the ice—his friend—who later became my friend. With him came his wife, so 61 women.
"A mother witch came with the daughter I saved from the clutches of the demon, so 62. Along with them came an unruly teen, brother to my daughter. And I rescued the daughter of the head maid, whom I raised like a daughter or granddaughter. There was also an overworked sorcerer—she is not one of my daughters but is part of the family. We were four men and 64 women," Aragorn replied.
"Well, if you consider me a man..." he muttered.
His count didn't include Spark, Seraph, or Gaea and Carol.
Medusa asked more questions after this. About the Imperium, the Halo—about which she was surprised to learn it was owned by Aragorn—and other topics that had always been veiled by rumors, misinformation, and eras of myth passed from mouth to mouth regarding "A'Heelah."
Aragorn chose to use this time to take his mind off the Olympians, and Medusa was enraptured by his stories like a preteen watching his first pair of anime oppai.
"Medusa, what do you eat around here?" The end of the day was approaching when Aragorn asked this.
"Food? There's no such thing. That hypocrite bitch made it so I won't die of hunger... I haven't eaten anything since that rapist monster fed me his seed with a gloating smirk," she spat, her words laced with disgust and rage. Her mood was reflected by the living snakes hissing threateningly atop her head.
"I understand there's no food on the island, but you can eat, can't you? Why not try your luck fishing?" Aragorn asked, selectively omitting the last part of her sentence.
"A'Heelah, do you think I haven't tried? Part of my wretched curse includes the stupidity that allows Athena to know when I resurface below the skies of Zeus. Whenever I step out, I feel pain—just like when she turned me into this.
"That... demon said she could not exist while sharing the same sky as me. She commanded and forced me to never step out of the shadows." This time, her voice carried vulnerability hidden beneath layers of wrath and resentment.
Medusa could stomach Poseidon's rape. She was born and raised in the current era, and rape was part of a woman's possible reality—a very possible reality—and she was a beautiful woman beyond any mortal woman she had ever met. She was not naive enough to ignore the obvious danger her beauty brought her.
But Athena's punishment? What had she even done wrong? Was she supposed to resist and fight off the god of the seas? Was it because of how her body reacted? That wasn't her fault. Is it the victim's fault how her body physiologically decides to react to stressful situations? All those years of faithful worship, of celibacy, and of love toward Athena—none of it mattered more than the purity of her temple.
"..." Aragorn patiently observed her as she bit her lower lip, trying to drown a sob, the tear in her eye practically being forced back—all to avoid externalizing her vulnerability.
"Do you want to step out?"
"... What?" she asked, confused. She had just said she couldn't, and now he was asking if she wanted to.
"You'd feel none of that pain," Aragorn said—an unspoken promise.
"I can?" she asked, both timidly and hopefully.
"Sure," Aragorn nodded, not much emotion on his face, but his empathy was sharing :Reassurance: with her.
"What if she shows up?" she asked.
"She wouldn't do much," Aragorn said with a pensive look.
Would she risk fighting him? Would she run with her tail between her legs? Would she try to kill Medusa after seeing her with him? She would report him to Zeus, that's a fact. He could shield Medusa from her entire divine perception, avoiding hassle as a whole, but...
'I hope she attacks us (me).'
|Casus belli.|
>We (I) would be playing into Odin's plans, but...<
-So what? Conflict flows through our (my) veins.-
'Chaos is our (my) daughter.'
|War our (my) grandson.|
>Violence is the answer and the question.<
'The ultimate truth.'
}42{
-We (I) already had a thing against rapist scum.-
'Hehehehe!'
When Aragorn and Medusa made just a step away from the sunlit entrance, he placed a hand on her shoulder and shielded her soul from the torture the curse would have placed on her, but he did nothing about the surveillance part of the curse.
"There, now you won't have to experience agony," Aragorn said.
Medusa nodded; she trusted him implicitly.
In fact, when it came to it, most of humanity trusted "A'Heelah" to act within his character implicitly. Humanity trusted that he would protect children, heal those in need, maintain neutrality against rulership or deities unless they involved him, and that his Caravan Nation would bring prosperity wherever it tread.
Their trust in him within these parameters was as solid as their trust that the sun would rise the next morning.
Still, with some timidity, she snaked her body forward, and the sunlight reached her. The pain never came.
She carefully inched forward until all of her body was beneath the light of the star.
"Hehe... Hehehehehe!" It started with soft chuckles, and then full laughter erupted. Her restraint lost the battle against her joyful tears.
Aragorn patiently waited for her emotional outburst to conclude, then led her to the nearest beach. Using his telekinesis, he pulled fish out of the sea. He extracted salt from the water and then separated a spark of his eternal flame to use as fire. It was a simple salted grilled fish, but to Medusa, it was another reason for tears.
After the 'sumptuous' meal, Medusa sat facing the water, her lowered body curled around itself, and Aragorn hovered beside her, sitting in the air.
"Thank you," Medusa said, her gaze lost on the horizon. "I don't know why you're helping me, but thank you anyway."
"You're my casus belli," Aragorn said.
"I don't know what is that," she replied.
"Do you want to fuck the Olympians?" Aragorn asked, instead of explaining himself.
"... I would give up everything I have, I am, and I could be, to get a chance to," she replied.
"Even if that meant being used by me?" Aragorn turned to her and asked.
"Would they suffer?" There was a dark hope in her eyes—a hope not for salvation, but for the condemnation of others.
"They'd suffer slightly in the near future, but I can promise you they'll die in the far future," Aragorn said.
"I care only for Poseidon and Athena. So long as they die, I care not for anyone else," Medusa clarified.
"That's alright," Aragorn nodded.
"I accept." Her features turned sharper, like a knife after a whetstone.
Aragorn smiled. Medusa couldn't see it under his hood, but it was a vicious grin.
"What do I have to do?" Medusa asked.
"Nothing," Aragorn said.
"Nothing?" she asked.
"Nothing. We will just become good friends," Aragorn turned to the horizon, his sight locking in on a flying owl the size of a truck, "the best friends. Hehehehe!"
His laughter sent shivers down Medusa's long spine. But before she could ask what he was on about, the flap of the wings of a majestic owl stirred howls of wind, like a tornado.
Medusa went alert. Aragorn kept calm, sitting in an invisible chair, observing as the owl came to a stop a distance away from them. Its massive wings kept it afloat above the now churning water.
"Aragorn!" the owl cawed with anger. Its eyes moved from the shivering Medusa to the calm dragon. "What are you doing in my father's lands?! And with her?!"
"Zeus' lands? Are you talking about the Olympus realm?" Aragorn feigned ignorance.
"This side of the Mediterranean belongs to Olympus!" Her words were loud and piercing.
"I don't remember handing Olympus the rights to part of my planet. Are you under some misunderstanding, Athena Parthenos?" Aragorn's dismissive tone and arrogance served to make Medusa feel vindicated in part.
"Should I make your stance clear with the other pantheons as well?" Athena asked.
"Oh, would you do me the favor? I was not aware all of you deities thought I had ceded parts of my planet to you. Be a dear and inform them. Thank you," Aragorn dismissively waved his hand at Athena.
"You want a divine war," Athena asserted. It wasn't a question.
"Do I? Would it even be a war, to begin with?" Aragorn tilted his head, his eyes under the hood changing to a pattern of gold and red.
Athena's divine domains included warfare and wisdom, and at this moment, like an engine operating at maximum RPM, her divinities were processing information for Athena. She was finding the appropriate words to navigate the minefield she had stumbled upon when she only meant to deliver divine punishment to a rebellious mortal.
Aragorn was many things in the eyes of the pantheons on Earth: worthy of caution, a threat, a holder of unmeasurable wealth—the type even they would covet—an incomprehensible existence, and more. But what he was not, was a warmonger.
They knew they had invaded his territory, yet Aragorn never sought to push them away. Some believed it was because he feared the retaliation of the Council of Godheads, but after Bor Burison witnessed him fight, that foolish belief vanished.
Some thought he refused to engage in conflict because he cared about the lives of mortals who would be unwillingly involved—after all, they had seen him walk the globe healing mortals and protecting their children. But this assumption died when they saw him flood the planet.
So at this moment, the most logical assumption was that Aragorn didn't meddle in mortal or divine affairs so long as those affairs didn't involve him. Hence, Athena was not expecting him to push back now that she only sought to punish Medusa. Contrary to expectation, Aragorn was acting like someone who looked forward to conflict should it land at his doorstep.
Athena shifted to her humanoid form, armored in gold, with a tall spear in her right hand, an aspis in her left, long braided brown hair, and facial features worthy of divine beauty.
(This is MCU Athena, from Thor III.)
"I thought you didn't interfere in mortal affairs," Athena said, walking slowly atop the water and approaching them.
Medusa curled behind Aragorn.
"I don't, but you're not a mortal, are you?" Aragorn asked. He pointed behind him at Medusa. "She is."
"In that case, I will refrain from delivering my divine will to the mortal Gorgon," Athena said. Her words were as much a statement as a question.
"Then I shall let mortals resolve their mortal affairs, and divines their divine affairs, right?" Aragorn said.
"I'll take your words to my Skyfather," Athena said, before crouching and jumping into flight.
Aragorn observed as she shifted into an owl in the distance and disappeared beyond the horizon.
"What was that?" Medusa asked from behind him.
"That was me reassuring my stance that I will not interfere between mortal or divine conflicts so long as they are kept within each category," Aragorn said with a sly smile.
"I don't follow what that implies," Medusa was not shy to express her confusion.
"That no deity will come seeking your death or punishment, but they could send mortals after you," Aragorn explained.
"...Won't they die to my stare?" Medusa asked.
"Yes. As long as you're not caught off guard, they'll never claim your head," Aragorn said.
"...What does this have to do with us being friends?" Medusa queried.
"Well... let's just say that you will become my casus belli now that Athena has promised no divine interference with you," Aragorn said without explaining more.
After this, just as predicted, mortal 'heroes', 'adventurers', and those seeking divine recognition came for Medusa's head. Yet, unsurprisingly, all ended as art décor around the island.
Aragorn took to the hobby of making vegetation filled with flowers grow on the statues. The style of a desolate island transformed into a beautiful landscape filled with green-covered statues of warriors, with wreaths and vines of exotic flowers.
"You have a talent for art, Aragorn," Medusa said, observing how the green moss covered her latest victim before flowers of all colors began blossoming.
"I learned from one of my daughters," Aragorn said, nodding appreciatively at his latest piece.
"It's been decades, possibly a century... when do you think they'll give up?" she asked, her gaze dragging around the landscape covered in multiple 'art pieces.'
"Only with your death will they give up," Aragorn said.
"...I'm gonna die, am I not?" Medusa asked, turning to Aragorn.
"You can't be my casus belli alive, my friend," Aragorn chuckled at how long it took her to realize—or accept it.
"So that's what you meant..." she muttered.
"Do you resent me?" Aragorn asked. He turned from the statue to face Medusa.
"...Just a little. But I was the one who said I would accept whatever granted me my vengeance," Medusa said, locking eyes with Aragorn. "What will happen?"
"They'll realize normal mortals can't defeat you. They'll try with demigods, which pushes the bounds of our agreement—but even then, that won't be enough. Your petrifying gaze—the same thing Athena chose as your punishment—will be their downfall.
"Finally, they won't take it anymore and will grant divine artifacts to a chosen hero—essentially, pushing our agreement even further. You'll perish, but even if they've pushed the bounds so far, it still won't be enough. So I, seeking revenge over the death of my friend, will do what they did—I'll meddle in their mortals' affairs.
"I'll choose a significant event or personage from one of their foresaw songs, and I'll interfere in a way that will diminish their credibility as deities... Here's the difference between us: I'm patient and not prideful. They aren't.
"They'll be unable to tolerate this affront to their authority and status, so instead of patiently swallowing the offense—like I'll do with your death—they'll react... ergo, my casus belli," Aragorn explained with complete honesty.
Aragorn moved closer to her and cupped her green, scaly face. Medusa, in practiced ease, leaned into the warmth of his hand.
"And me, after I die, what will become of me?" she asked, her eyes closed to the comfort Aragorn's touch provided her.
"Your divine curse will remain with your body. I'll pick up your soul, and after that... whatever you want. A benefit to compensate my friend for using her death in my selfish plotting," Aragorn said, his eyes shifting between green, golden, and pink.
"I want to be there when you end them. I want them to know that it was because of me that they'll join the numbers of us mortals. After that... I want you to give me a new life, one blessed and unburdened from my memories. One where I don't have to feel filthy for every time I dream of that man, where my heart doesn't ache after remembering that bitch. A new start," she pleaded.
"It shall be done, my friend." Aragorn petted her snake hair with his other hand. Her snakes curled tenderly around his fingers and playfully bit his hand.
Over a century passed, and in 1450 BC, when the Minoan civilization collapsed under the Mycenaean invasions, Aragorn prepared to depart for Egypt. The Exodus was coming.
"This is goodbye?" Medusa asked Aragorn.
They were near the beach where she first tasted food after her curse. Aragorn was in his draconic form, ensuring his body was particularly visible from a distance.
"Until you die. We'll meet when I come for your soul," Aragorn spoke through his telekinesis.
"What if I defeat their chosen hero?" Medusa asked.
"Then they'll send another, and then more after that, until your head is in Athena's hands," Aragorn spoke without mincing his words.
"...I've made peace with it. I won't pull back now. The thought of witnessing their dying faces is my driving force, and my promised blessed life my motivation!" Medusa said, psyching herself up.
"See you later, Little Snake." Aragorn chuckled at her antics and flapped his wings. There was no updraft—it was as if his wings were only an illusion—and as he rose above, no sound was born from his uplift. It was only when he was a distance away that the cries of the howling winds reached Medusa.
His form rose, piercing the clouds, and the flap of his wings pushed the vapor formations out of the way. His body was so colossal, and he was flying so high, that from hundreds of kilometers away, he could be spotted.
He was being deliberately eye-catching so that the Olympians knew he was leaving Medusa alone.
'Bastet,' mid-flight, Aragorn contacted Bast.
'Aragorn? No nicknames this time?' Bastet replied in an upbeat tone.
'Someone's in a good mood,' Aragorn said. He didn't mind the small talk.
'My guys made some remarkable progress today. I'm happy for them,' Bast replied.
'I'm glad for you,' Aragorn said.
'What about you? Anything interesting on your side of the world?' she queried.
'I made a friend,' Aragorn said.
'Oh, that's quite the tale. I thought I was the last friend you made, though you treat me like a subordinate,' there was some complaint in her voice.
'She will serve a purpose, so I befriended her,' Aragorn said.
'...Now I know for a fact that you have no idea about the meaning of the word friend,' Bast said after a pause.
'It's not that I don't see her as a friend—it's just that I started the friendship knowing it would end. You see, my friend is quite troubled by her experiences, so although she might seem okay—if not a little deranged—inside, she seeks death. I'm actually going to do a lot for her after her death, so I think I am a good friend to her, even if I'll use her death for my cause,' Aragorn explained. He was sincere and truthful with Bast; he saw no motive to lie to her.
'I... I don't know what to say, but I'll be happy you found a friend, even if the circumstances you describe are nothing but tragedy. So, what's this cause you mentioned?' Bast asked.
'I'm pulling some strings. In a matter of centuries, I'll face the Olympians,' Aragorn confessed.
'...I should prepare for the Ennead to be pulled into the mess?' Bast asked, her tone serious.
'That's part of why I'm contacting you. Do you remember Yahweh?' Aragorn asked.
'That was the multiversal presence that descended on your secretary, right?' Bast had been there in Omnipotence City when Yahweh made his presence known and forced them to accept the deluge Aragorn was planning.
'Yes, the same. As I mentioned before, the religions born from his faith are going to be almost innate to humanity, and I'm working with him to facilitate their births,' Aragorn said.
'Agh, you don't need to continue—I can see what you're about to say. You're going to antagonize the Ennead in Egypt in some form, aren't you? That's what that group of Semitic people is for in Egypt, right?' Bastet asked in confirmation.
'Yes. Yahweh religions are monotheist, so part of his lore involves his might proving superior to the Ennead through his representative. I'll be in charge of that, so the chances that I'll offend the Ennead in some way are almost 100%,' Aragorn said.
'Agh, you're a flying sack of... problems! I don't know what you want me to do. Should I tell them to be prepared to be slapped and humiliated by you but to pay no mind to it?' Bast asked, frustration evident.
'No. Whether they mind it or not, this is happening—and you know I have the power to ensure so. I just wanted to let you know of the upcoming conflict and suggest you stay in Wakanda for the foreseeable future. A few centuries at least,' Aragorn said.
'It's because I know you can do it that I'm panicking here. The Ennead will be involved no matter how much diplomacy I pull out of the void!' Bast complained.
'I promise I won't be after their lives; at most, their believers will be the ones to suffer,' Aragorn said.
'But that's the same as attacking them... Whatever, I think it's time I focus more on my humans than playing messenger for you. Would there be a problem with that?' Bast asked.
'No, Bastet, no problem. I believe I'll stop wandering around Egypt for the following centuries after the clash, and I doubt they would contact me after they see what I'll do,' Aragorn said.
'Fine... Thank you for the heads-up. By the way, you're a terrible friend,' Bast said before cutting the connection from her side.
Aragorn paid no mind to the reproachful words of his cat friend and continued flying to Egypt.
Time had passed, and the Hebrews left by Joseph had multiplied enough to reach numbers in the millions. There were so many compared to the Egyptians that the current Pharaoh couldn't help but fear a rebellion.
And like any self-fulfilling prophecy, in his fear of the foreseen outcome, his actions only served to push reality toward the undesired conclusion.
It didn't help that there was a sense of "Us" and "Them" in the hearts of most Egyptians, who had forgotten about the good that Joseph had brought to the kingdom. But it couldn't be helped. Not only were the Hebrews inhabiting the old Hyksos capital, but they followed their own culture, spoke their own language, and sought not to integrate with the locals.
However, the Egyptians counted on military might that scared off the rebellious dissenters among the Hebrews. Otherwise, when the Pharaoh enslaved their entire people, they would have rebelled.
...Or when the Pharaoh ordered the infanticide of all newborn boys by drowning them in the Nile.
Aragorn, still in his dragon form, was hidden in the Mirror Dimension, observing this play out. However, his fixation on the shiny souls of the babies stopped him from being a simple spectator.
As an Egyptian soldier robbed a mother of her baby and approached the deadly waters of the Nile, he grabbed the baby by one of its chubby legs. The newborn cried, and the soldier swung, aiming for where the outline of the Nile crocodiles could be seen. When the wailing child hit the water under the despondent and despairing gaze of his mother, it disappeared, never to be seen.
In the Mirror Dimension, the said wailing child appeared mostly unharmed, floating around Aragorn. A simple touch of biokinesis calmed him down and fixed the broken leg and dislocated neck. With an audible 'pop!' another one appeared, then another—sometimes in batches of two or more.
'Emma,' Aragorn called.
'Love?' Emma replied.
'I will have in my hands a few thousand newborn boys by the end of this year. Do you want them?' Aragorn asked.
'Eh? Are you stealing them? Ah! The Exodus will happen in this century, right?' Emma asked.
'Yes,' Aragorn confirmed.
'You're not taking them into your Caravan Nation?' Emma asked. To her, it made more sense to follow standard procedure and let the babies live a life on Earth before moving them to the Imperium after their deaths.
'These babies would all be considered time variants. Also, my Caravan Nation turned into a Fleet Nation a few centuries ago. Life in the seas is not appropriate for a baby—much less this many in quantity,' Aragorn explained his reasoning.
'I see... Mmmm... Can you keep them for about a year? I'll need some time to start another campaign of human adoption,' Emma said.
In the Imperium, it was not the first time an influx of Homo sapiens entered their numbers. After each war, there's normally growth in the reborn humans. In this case, Emma needed some time to prepare for the wave of infants Aragorn was going to add on top of the already reincarnating humans.
'Yeah, Fluff, there's no rush. I can keep them for a few years before you're ready,' Aragorn agreed.
'Great! About fifty years ago we completed terraformation on three planets and one satellite around a giant gaseous. We still need people for repopulation, and a wave of humans—and later High Humans—should do,' Emma said.
'Great, thanks Fluff. I love you,' Aragorn replied, attaching his :Love: in the telepathic message.
'Me too, Love,' Emma replied.
As Aragorn had predicted, the waves of infanticide continued for over a year, and the number of babies accompanying him in the Mirror Dimension grew.
Aragorn created a squad of selves to help attend to the babies' needs. From feeding to cleaning and stimulating interactions, these humanoid selves hovered around Aragorn's draconic self, taking care of about ten babies each.
While this was happening, Aragorn was also taking care of starting the process of creating strings of 'coincidences' that would result in the future Ten Plagues.
With the Thera eruption a few centuries ago, he had already taken care of a few of them. For example, the ashfall had already created an environment in the Nile rich in nutrients. Also, although not as massive as the first eruption, even to this day, the volcano remained active—meaning that from time to time, it would spew ash into the atmosphere.
While Aragorn was playing wet nurse in the Mirror Dimension, he saw the interesting sight of a three-month-old baby floating in a basket covered in tar.
"Moses is finally here," Aragorn said.
"Oh, finally!"
"Great!"
"As much as being surrounded by these shiny souls soothes my heart, they were turning too numerous."
"Good thing there was no need to stage a Moses."
Aragorn's other selves joined him in elation.
The floating basket made its way to the crocodiles' bank. Aragorn controlled a crocodile to push the basket back into the river.
The floating basket got stuck in some reeds. Aragorn pushed it with his telekinesis.
The floating basket got stuck in a swirl. Aragorn made a splash of water push it out.
And like so, Aragorn made sure the floating basket delivered its payload onto the shores where the Pharaoh's daughter was bathing along with her maidens. And when she saw the basket among the reeds, she sent her maid to get it.
She named him Moses because in Egyptian it meant "born of" or "child." In Hebrew, the name also meant "to draw out," because she drew him out of the water.
"Finally!" Aragorn exclaimed. That night, there was a small celebration in the Mirror Dimension between Aragorn and his selves.
Time passed, and Emma contacted him, ready for the delivery of the babies that were now at least one year old. Most of them were already starting to learn to walk, aided by Aragorn's selves. Some were saying their first words.
Aragorn made a massive portal connecting the Mirror Dimension with The Ark. From the other side, a group of Duskari walked in with hovering cradles following them.
"Head, it's an honor to meet you," the leading Duskari said.
They were not surprised to see the massive dragon among hundreds of Aragorn selves. They all knew how exotic he was, and Emma had already warned them about the situation.
"Joklvas, I'm happy to be relieved of my parental duties," one of the Aragorn selves at the front said, pointing back at the thousands of babies hovering behind him.
"Worry not, Head. All of these precious ones already have families awaiting them in KL-1, Theta-7, Bruxus-2, and Yulis-9," Joklvas replied.
While Aragorn was raising them, he made sure to send the Imperium profiles of each baby. These profiles were used by the adopting families to select their babies.
The Duskari walked to each self with ten floating cradles and then back into the portal. After half an hour, Aragorn signed paperwork confirming the delivery and closed the portal after the last of the Duskari returned to the Imperium.
His focus shifted to Moses, and for the next twenty years, he saw Moses grow from a three-month-old baby to a member of the Egyptian court.
Then, he felt it. A pull to Medusa's soul.
His draconic form appeared above the Mediterranean. His wings flapped, and all clouds in the sky cleared. His body broke enough sonic barriers to ignite like a meteor. He approached the island where Medusa and he had lived for years.
Atop where the crevice once was, now lay a dark castle styled in the architecture of the future Greece. This dark castle was built in Dragon Ore, as a present for his friend.
As he neared this island engulfed in an aura of fire and death, he opened his wings, coming to an immediate stop. His wake vortex ripped everything off the island's surface— all the moss-covered statues, all the bushes, all the unaffixed rocks and sand.
Leaving only the dark castle standing — it was nigh indestructible, after all.
"I see... A demigod wielding divine artifacts, that was your answer, was it not, Athena?" Aragorn's voice rumbled through the remaining landscape and reached the insides of the castle.
A mortal with a bronze shield shining like a mirror, winged sandals, a bag carrying the head of Medusa, and a curved sword came out of the castle under a cape of invisibility.
The demigod, Perseus, trembled like a newborn fawn.
"You can drop the cape; it doesn't work on me," Aragorn said, looming above Perseus, his gigantic eyes following him as he stumbled outside the castle.
"Achíla (Αχίλα)," he spoke the phonetic transformation of Aragorn's name. "I seek not your enmity."
"Yet you carry the head of my friend like a trophy in that bag," Aragorn said.
"I need it to save my mother," Perseus said.
"Wouldn't it have been easier to slay the king withholding your mother?" Aragorn asked.
"..." Perseus couldn't reply.
"By the way," Aragorn turned his head in another direction, "he is abusing your mother as we speak. It appears it is not the first time."
"N-No, that can't be!" Perseus shouted.
"Athena, is this child important to you?" Aragorn ignored Perseus and asked while looking at a pillar of the dark castle.
"... Aragorn," Athena made her way from behind the column. Like Perseus, her legs were not steady. "You said you would not interfere with mortals."
"Yeah... I said that, didn't I?" Aragorn spoke slowly, his eyes swiveling from Perseus to Athena. "Are you a mortal, though?"
"... W-What?" Athena asked.
"Child," Aragorn ignored her and turned to Perseus. "You should return to your mother. Maybe make a stop in search of Andromeda before that. It is not like your mother can be unabused, and she is not at risk at the moment. But Andromeda will die if you don't rescue her."
Aragorn made a pulling motion, and Medusa's body floated out of the castle. When it landed below him, with another pulling motion, her soul materialized out of it—this time, she was a beautiful, ethereal woman of golden threads.
She looked at her hands, then up at Aragorn, and flashed him a grin before floating to sit behind his crown of horns, the eternal flame making way for her. With an amused gaze, she stared at the frightened Athena.
"Achíla, thank you for the information," Perseus said after taking a moment to process his words. He looked to his side at the goddess frozen in place. "What's going on between you and Goddess Athena, Achíla?"
"We're going to have a chat about transparency and consequences," Aragorn said, as if soothing a child. Athena's lips quivered, but she remained fixed in place—unmoving, silent, just like a statue.
"Will you harm her?" Perseus asked, understanding the enmity between them.
"Would you rather I hurt your princess or your mother in her stead?" Aragorn's eyes flashed crimson at Perseus, who once more turned into a newborn fawn.
With a regretful glance at Athena, he whistled, and a pegasus came out of the temple. He mounted it and took flight—both more escaping than flying away gracefully.
Aragorn saw them disappear on the horizon before giving his due attention to Athena.
"Don't worry, girl. I won't kill you," Aragorn's draconic face lowered to her level, and he matched her gaze.
Then, the previously terrified gaze of Athena turned vacant.
"What is happening, Aragorn?" Medusa asked. She was inquisitively looking at the dazed Athena while leaning against one of Aragorn's horns.
"I'm making her go through what you went through in her mind," Aragorn said.
"Like an illusion? Like the ones you showed me?" Medusa asked. There was unmistakable glee in her voice.
"Similar. This is more real—like living through it with body and mind, unmistakable from reality. It's based on a torturing technique called Tsukuyomi. She'll go through it over and over again, thousands of times per second," Aragorn's voice came out like a growl.
"Hehe..." Medusa chuckled. "Hehehehe!" Her chuckles turned into raw laughter. "Have I told you that I think I fell for you?" Medusa asked.
"Keep it platonic, or my wife will kill you," Aragorn cautioned.
"Actually, she visited me in a dream when I realized it. She was the most terrifying thing I've ever been in the presence of, including you," Medusa said, chuckles escaping her sporadically. "She did something to me, and now my affection for you won't go beyond a 'crush', she called it."
"That's good. I'd rather you don't die after dying," Aragorn commented.
Medusa and Aragorn chatted like the old friends they were, ignoring the goddess going through the torture of her life. Exactly one hour later—3,600 seconds later—Aragorn stopped the Tsukuyomi.
Athena pissed herself. Her eyes were vacuous. She fell forward, unresponsive—divine blood dripping down her nose, saliva freely flowing out of her half-opened mouth, her eyelids twitching involuntarily, and tears flowing nonstop.
"..." Medusa stared at her with a complicated expression, though it didn't last long. "Pfft! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Aragorn stored her laughing soul next to his heart, to protect it from dispersing while she waited for the day when he would kill Athena and Poseidon. He gazed into the distance, where he could sense the hatred-laced stares of several deities, Zeus among them. None of them dared approach him.
Aragorn's draconic hand grabbed Athena's twitching body and threw her unceremoniously at the peeping deities, before opening a portal to the Mirror Dimension and disappearing.
'Now I just wait for the Battle of Troy.'
-Just a few centuries away.-
|So close, yet so far away.|
>Let's focus on the Exodus first.<
Another twenty years passed, and Moses witnessed an Egyptian abusing a Hebrew. He killed the man and then buried the body. Aragorn made sure the body was discovered, and Moses had to flee to Midian.
"This guy... Does he pretend to cross the desert with no supplies?" Aragorn observed as Moses ran into the desert with no fear of dehydration or starving to death.
One month later, after Aragorn had to put waterholes and easy prey in his path, Moses made it to Midian.
(This is one of the possible routes.)
He was resting near a well when he saw some shepherds harass a group of young girls trying to draw water for their flock. He rose to their defense, and these girls took him to their house in gratitude.
Another forty years went by with Aragorn overseeing the overall well-being of Moses and those around him.
Then, while he herded his flock around Mount Sinai, he found a bush on fire, not consumed by it.
'I really should have gone with an aurora.'
|This feels lacking.|
-Let's add some sparkles to the bush.-
>Maybe a beam of light descending upon it.<
|Yahweh will get mad.|
'TCH!'
-TCH!-
>TCH!<
And so, Moses left Mount Sinai with a staff that could turn into a serpent—and with a terrible case of anxiety for sure.
"That guy had some weird self-esteem issues. Or maybe social anxiety. Not afraid to talk back to Yahweh (me), but afraid of talking to the Hebrews," Aragorn muttered in disbelief.
Moses made it to Egypt, where he met his brother Aaron on the way. Aragorn had already contacted Aaron and assigned him as Moses' spokesman.
Moses used his staff to prove he came under Yahweh's (mine) guidance. Water from the Nile, when poured over the ground and turning into blood, was further proof. This, coupled with Aaron's social skills and crowd work, had the Israelites in the bag.
Then came the meeting with the Pharaoh, who was one of Moses' brothers, son of the previous Pharaoh.
The Pharaoh doubted Moses' claims and feared no god outside the Ennead. Moses used his staff trick, but it turned out that the Pharaoh had sorcerers who could imitate it.
"Sorcerers or priests of the Ennead?" Aragorn muttered, his gaze fixed on the transforming staves.
The answer was priests of the Ennead using sorcery. Sorcery has many shapes and forms. One of them is the use of dimensional energies under the patronage of dimensional lords. Deities can also imitate this.
And just like the scripture, Moses' staff ate the others, and with that action, the Ennead realized Aragorn was behind it.
Soon, even while inside the Mirror Dimension, Aragorn felt the gazes of the Ennead on him.
"Power rules supreme among your ranks," Aragorn said, his message also delivered to the minds of the angered deities, "and I don't even fit inside your constricting ranks, so swallow your displeasure down, or act on it. I care not for either outcome."
His were not simply words—he laced them with his intent to fight should the need arise.
The Pharaoh declined the request to free the Israelites. As was only logical, the Israelites formed a vital part of the Egyptian workforce, and those monuments were not building themselves.
So the time for the Ten Plagues came.
Starting with the Plague of Blood. Centuries ago, when Aragorn had started the Thera Eruption, nutritious ash blessed the lands of the Nile. These lands saw an increase in produce, and this increase—by manner of several agricultural by-products and waste—made it to the river.
Initially, it wasn't much, but with the right conditions—temperature, oxygen levels in the water, and nutrition for certain algae—a red tide could be created. Aragorn observed as his calculations came true, and the Nile saw a red tide unlike any Earth had seen since the birth of civilization.
The fish died, the environment was disrupted, and many aquatic prey saw their predators disappear—frogs among them. These gave way to the Plague of Frogs.
But there were too many frogs for the environment to support, and so they died off. The stench was similar to that of a few days after a battle on a battlefield.
Then came the Plague of Lice or Gnats. The disruptions caused by the Thera eruption centuries ago—and its subsequent eruptions—caused changes in the weather, which in turn affected life, insects included. One of those aftereffects, even after so long, was a sudden parasitic infestation.
Of course, normally none of this would have been possible, but for the past centuries, Aragorn had been not only playing with Medusa and collecting souls. He had been staging and steering events that separately made no sense, but when all came together... Ten Plagues were born in Egypt.
From the decay of the frogs and fish, the Plague of Flies arrived. Swarms of flies descended on Egypt, infesting homes and fields. The flies caused more discomfort and destruction, but the land of Goshen (where the Israelites lived) was spared; Aragorn was controlling the wind currents to keep the flies at bay.
The biting flies in the swarm carried a strain of anthrax Aragorn created about 90 years ago, and this anthrax made it to the livestock. The Plague of Livestock. Because Aragorn kept the vectors of the bacterium away from the Land of Goshen, their livestock was spared.
The Plague of Boils came after. Not only was the Egyptian livestock bitten, but also the people—and with it came the boils particular to anthrax.
The changing weather patterns made for conditions suitable for a severe hail-thunderstorm to form. The Plague of Hail. Along with the destruction caused by the hail, fireball lightning rained.
Egypt had been afflicted by a drought for several years at that point, but with the addition of the hail rain, the Nile overflooded and reached parts that had been previously dry. This achieved conditions favorable—such as high humidity—for locusts to spawn.
A swarm of locusts descended upon Egypt, eating all the remaining crops and vegetation after the hailstorm. This caused a severe food crisis and further devastation. The Plague of Locusts.
Perfectly timed, the Thera erupted once more—not as devastatingly as the first time, just a simple eruption—loading the atmosphere with ash. The wind carried these ash-loaded clouds across Egypt, and darkness lasting three days plagued them. The Plague of Darkness.
Once more, the Land of Goshen was spared from all this because of the wind currents keeping a wind curtain around it.
And finally, the last plague came. The Plague of the Firstborn.
Aragorn's SplitSelves went from household to household, replacing the firstborn son with a dead clone he had prepared beforehand.
"You're one terrifying being, Love," Emma commented. She was petting Aragorn as he lay on her lap, hugging her tails.
"Why? I mean, I know I can be, but this is something even you could do with your divinity, magic, and telekinesis, couldn't you?" Aragorn asked, his eyes closed, enjoying the comfort of Emma's soft tails.
"Not that. I know I could do this—most of us Therions could. I meant how you timed everything from across centuries and decades. From us, I think only Wanda could do this," Emma said.
Wanda, due to her mutation and Chaos Magic, had the ability to calculate and read probabilities and possibilities innately.
"I was going for a more subtle approach. The Ennead believes that my involvement so far has only been protecting the Israelites' land, so they can't blame me for the events of the past year," Aragorn said.
"And about the firstborn sons' deaths?" Emma asked.
"Those babies were bitten by the flies. They have anthrax. I'm sparing their suffering," Aragorn replied.
"All of the firstborn sons?" Emma asked, incredulous.
"All Egyptians were bitten at least once," Aragorn revealed.
"Wait, then how come they aren't all dying?" Emma asked.
"Humans can develop resistance to anthrax through previous exposure or vaccination. That's why I released the strain 90 years ago, for some of them to build up resistance," Aragorn said.
"Then how come only firstborn sons are dying?" Emma asked.
"It's like Laplace's Demon. I calculated so much, and so vastly, that I found the events and actions I had to take to selectively make sure only the firstborn sons were killed, and at this time," Aragorn said.
"I don't believe that's something you can normally do, is it? That borders the omniscient realm," Emma said.
"No. First of all, I have the PuppeteerSelf providing me info from outside the timeline, and then my soul is merged with the planet. Third, I have the Obelisks to assist me in casting my magic through this entire continental mass evenly. Fourth, the Halo up there helped me, and finally, Seraph and Spark assisted me through The System. Take away a single one of these factors, and the whole thing comes down," Aragorn explained.
"That's less impressive but still impressive," Emma chuckled.
"Are you done with this?" Emma asked.
"No, I'll have to make sure they make it to the Promised Land. Then I'm taking the Ark of the Covenant," Aragorn said.
"What? Why?" Emma asked, surprised he was stealing the holy artifact.
"Yahweh made sure they were lost to history originally. The tablets, manna, and Aaron's rod were laced with enough of his divinity to burn mortals alive. These are akin to thermonuclear weapons in the hands of a six-year-old, along with a push-me button ready to explode it all," Aragorn explained.
"Ah, I understand. Cleaning duty, right?" Emma said.
"Yep—Oh! The last baby is here, my Fluff," Aragorn pointed lazily with his tail as one of his SplitSelves brought an Egyptian baby.
"I guess it's my time for my departure then. I have to take these burritos to their respective families. Have you uploaded all their medical info to their profiles?" Emma asked.
Aragorn was not only kidnapping the dying babies but also healing them.
"Yes, also, the souls of the kids grown up enough have been delivered to the ABMax along with their life code samples," Aragorn said.
Firstborn sons included not only babies but also those who had grown enough to be attached to their parents. Aragorn collected their souls only in their case. The shock of kidnapping and taking them to the Imperium would have been equal to that of dying and passing to the afterlife, so Aragorn chose the easiest path.
Emma eventually departed with a fleet of floating cradles following her.
Outside the Mirror Dimension, the Pharaoh caved in to the pressure.
In haste, almost one million Hebrews marched out of the Land of Goshen and into the desert, with the initial destination of Mount Sinai.
Egypt lay a wasteland, but when the last Israelite made it outside, it was as if the putrid air characteristic of the past year had been swept away by the winds that had been previously protecting the Land of Goshen.
Now Aragorn had one last 'miracle' at hand, born from the computational prediction modules of the three fastest minds in the universe. Whether it would be used or not depended on how long it would take the Pharaoh to regret his decision and pursue the Israelites.
So, while Moses guided his people in retreat, Aragorn kept an eye on the Pharaoh as he carried out the rituals for the passing of his firstborn son.
Then it happened. The mournful face of his son's mother, the defeated looks of his court officials, the somber mood of his people, the anguish in his heart, the need as the Pharaoh to recover the sense of nationalism of his people—all of it combined into the most logical decision, and from a governmental position, the only one.
He gathered his troops, mounted the chariots pulled by some of the few remaining horses left alive, and marched behind the Israelites.
The Israelites were already making haste, but when they saw the plume of dust rising on the horizon behind them, they rushed even further.
However, they all knew what was in front of them: the Red Sea.
(Apparently, there are several theories about where they crossed the Red Sea, or if it was the Sea of Reeds. Because it matches my chronology, I'll say they crossed around the tip of the Gulf of Suez.)
(The Great Bitter Lake is also an option, but I'll write it as the Red Sea.)
Between the Red Sea and the Pharaoh's people, despair crept in.
"Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die?" the Israelites cried to Moses.
"What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt?"
"Didn't we say to you in Egypt, 'Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians'? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert!"
Panic and cries of similar nature echoed among the Israelites.
"Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again," Moses gathered his courage and addressed the panicked crowd, his voice reaching the far corners of the mob.
"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still!"
'What a complacent little mortal.'
>They want it all on a silver platter.<
-Yahweh's patience is admirable.-
|Maybe Moses and these people were the only options left.|
'As much as it's hateful to admit, at the moment he is right.'
'Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on.'
Aragorn's voice, the best impression of Yahweh, reached Moses' mind.
'Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go through the sea on dry ground.'
With Aragorn's voice, a sudden breeze began to pick up—the culmination of his calculations.
'I will harden the hearts of the Egyptians so that they will go in after them. And I will gain glory through Pharaoh and all his army, through his chariots and his horsemen.'
Aragorn finished his instructions, and Moses followed through.
He raised his staff and stretched out his hand over the sea.
The wind picked up almost unnaturally, the ground shook—an earthquake—and rose, and an almost straight pass surfaced for the Israelites.
The forces of the Pharaoh were not far behind them, so they didn't need to be told twice. They ran through the path, the strongmen carrying their wives and children, the elderly riding their livestock and carriages.
The Pharaoh and his men, when they should have pulled back and retreated due to the apparent supernatural witchcraft, felt a sudden surge of vigor and pushed forward.
As the Israelites ran and the Egyptians pursued, they were too preoccupied with each other to notice the subtle shaking of the ground. The risen path was beginning to destabilize.
'It was too much not to use telekinesis on this.'
|The lifted ground is going to cave into the void it left when it rose.|
-No, no, we (I) can still pull it off.-
>Let's have it ready, just in case.<
By controlling the volcanic and seismic activity of the area for the past years, Aragorn was able to create a chain reaction to open a temporary fault in the terrain and lift a portion of the ground. The end of the disrupted weather patterns was able to create a wind setdown, parting the Red Sea.
When the last Israelites crossed over, when they turned around to see the pursuing Egyptians almost reaching them, and when they saw that the sea was not closing up, Aragorn contacted Moses again.
'Stretch out your hand over the sea so that the waters may flow back over the Egyptians and their chariots and horsemen.'
Moses did as instructed, and the land bridge caved in just as the wind calmed down. Like a failing dam, the sea rushed in.
And when the Egyptians had no future left—maybe because he had caused enough damage to them, maybe because he was worried that the nation might fall and Egypt meet its end, or maybe because he was not Yahweh and was simply impersonating him—Aragorn appeared from the south.
His massive form parted the clouds, and he appeared hovering above where the Egyptians were drowning. Starting with one, bubbles carrying horses and Egyptians began to surface and float beyond the water level.
His draconic head turned to the Israelites and saw the insecurity and anxiety. He looked at the defeated Egyptians in his bubbles and, as if making a decision, pointed with his tail in Egypt's direction. The bubbles flew to Egypt.
He flapped his wings once more and appeared looming above the Israelites. His form shifted, and his A'Heelah persona was left hovering before landing in front of Moses.
"Are you the people of Joseph?" Aragorn asked.
"We are, A'Heelah," Moses replied, his faithful followers standing by his side.
"I see you escape to seek your own lands, don't you?" Aragorn asked, eyeing the Israelites behind Moses.
"We follow the guidance and will of our lord," Aaron said, brother of Moses.
"So Yahweh took you under his wing, huh?" Aragorn said, pointedly staring at Moses' staff.
"You know our lord?" Moses asked. Murmurs spread among those within earshot.
"Yes, I've done some work for him in the past. About 2000 years ago he asked me to hide my Obelisks while he flooded the planet. It was quite the sight," Aragorn said. From behind him, selves split off and hovered toward some of the injured victims from the near-stampede during their escape from the Egyptians.
Since religion among them was mostly passed down through oral tradition, not many recognized the events he was referring to.
"Anyway, good travels, People of Yahweh," Aragorn said before gaining height and flying away, in Egypt's direction.
Aragorn didn't land in Egypt—he was sure the Ennead despised him. Instead, he exited the material plane and hid in the interstitial spatial layers. From a distance, while hidden, he wielded his powers to put an end to the mess he had created.
When that was done, he returned to the Mirror Dimension and followed the Israelites through the desert. His role was not over yet.
After three days of traveling in the desert, the Israelites came to a place called Marah, where the water was undrinkable because it was too bitter. Aragorn instructed Moses to throw a piece of wood into the water, which made it sweet and drinkable.
With no food to eat, Aragorn provided them with Manna. Aragorn didn't know what Manna was, so he transmuted some matter from his fabricators into a formula based on the sap of the Arbor Mundi.
Like so, Aragorn kept shadowing the Israelites through the desert, intervening only when he recognized events from the Bible or when Yahweh told him about events that were not recorded.
'Are you sure we can't add an eleventh commandment? Thou shall not take children's lives, something like that,' Aragorn said.
'... It won't work,' Yahweh's voice came in a pained tone and in common English. 'When I first created the Ten Commandments, I thought I didn't need to write what was only logical. Don't kill babies, don't harm children, don't rape women, don't rape men, don't commit slaughter in my name, be regular good humans—I thought there was no need for all of that, and that in the worst case, "Don't murder" would have been enough.
'When I saw that wasn't the case, I tried to amend my mistakes. I tried to add more commandments to the tablets of other realities. But it didn't work. The Nexus event was too strong, and "The Ten Commandments" were ten. It couldn't be changed.
'I tried changing the fourth—I would have even changed the first. I cared no more who they worshipped, I just wanted them to stop the bloodshed in my name!
'Sigh... Nothing worked. I couldn't change it without creating a counter Nexus Event and rupturing reality, creating a chain culminating in the end of the multiverse.
'I know you can evade some restrictions—part of the nature of your being—but this is not about the nature of the one changing the commandments. This is about the importance that the commandments gained and how changing them will conflict with the Nexus Event. It's not possible without overwriting all realities, and only the Living Tribunal, with His approval, may do that.'
Yahweh ended his rant in a depressive mood.
"What a fucking mess, but it makes sense. And Boss Tribunal would not move for the mortal souls dying when it doesn't affect Reality as a whole," Aragorn said.
Forty years passed, and the Israelites were finally making it to the Promised Land. But just before they could rush in, Aragorn landed in front of the caravan in his draconic form.
Moses, now 120 years old, stepped forward, accompanied by his successor, a warrior named Joshua.
"A'Heelah, may the lord's blessing be upon you," Moses greeted him in a good mood.
Throughout their wandering, they had met Aragorn multiple times. Sometimes he brought them leather skins for their tents, utilities, carriages, livestock, and other times simply food—he always brought them things to make their lives on the 'road' easier, so there was no conflict between them.
"Moses, I come to take you to your lord and to take the Ark of the Covenant away from mortal hands," Aragorn said.
His words spread unease among the Israelites, but not in Moses.
"Ah, finally, my time has come," Moses welcomed it with utmost devotion. "Can I see the Promised Land before departing?"
"Yes," Aragorn nodded and made way for him to ascend Mount Nebo.
There was some resistance, but under Joshua's command, they relented and let go of the Ark of the Covenant. The golden ark floated to Aragorn, next to his eternal flame, and with slow steps, he followed after Moses as he climbed.
Moses saw the Promised Land and smiled sweetly at it.
"It's beautiful," he said. Aragorn didn't reply.
He encased Moses in a void barrier and lifted him to hover on the free side next to his eternal flame. Under the sobbing of his followers, Aragorn ascended with Moses, and the cloudy skies parted way with a shower of light and sparks.
Aragorn flapped his wings powerfully and created an Astral Path, exiting Earth-199999. Moses observed all of this with the eyes of a believer gazing upon the marvelous creation of his creator.
Yahweh accepted Moses with open arms and removed his divinity from the items of the Ark of the Covenant. "Consider the rest a small gift for your collaboration and willingness to assist me," he said while returning the Ark to Aragorn—now void of divinity but full of meaning and symbolism.
"Don't worry too much about them, Yahweh. Your sanity is not worthy," Aragorn said.
"... If only I could, Aragorn," he said with a sigh.
Aragorn stared into his eyes for a moment before sighing and opening an Astral Path back to Earth-199999. He had a war to prepare for.
——————————————————
{A/N:
I feel the need to say this every time I finish writing a chapter like this. The characters of the story are not based on religious figures outside of the frame of the Marvel Multiverse story.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Please check out my P@treon account! There are already 10 chapters ahead for premium members, which is at least 100,000 words. Premium members also gain access to a new chapter every week.
[email protected]/ExistentialVoid
Free Members get access to all free chapters, and I upload free chapters about 12 hours earlier on P@atreon.
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}