The morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of Kron's chamber, slicing across the chaos that could only be described as divine negligence.
Stacks of parchment teetered precariously, ink bottles lay uncapped, and half-burned candles flickered atop books about trade laws, mana flow, and taxation systems. It was as if a hurricane had made a nest here and decided to retire peacefully in the mess.
I stopped at the doorway, dumbfounded.
"By the gods, Kron," I muttered. "Are you studying or summoning entropy itself?"
Kron didn't even look up from the pile of documents before him. "Entropy is just order misunderstood," he replied coolly, scribbling on a scroll with precise yet chaotic speed.
"Sure," I said, stepping carefully over an upturned chair. "And dust is your disciple, I suppose?"
He finally looked up, a faint smirk ghosting across his lips. "You wouldn't understand, dear brother. I'm creating something greater than any spell or law ever written."
I crossed my arms. "You mean this disaster zone?"
He ignored the jab and proudly held up a parchment. "I'm establishing a merchant union. I've named it The Crux Guild."
I blinked. "A… what now?"
"A merchant guild," he said, his tone brimming with smug satisfaction. "An economic web that will eventually dominate trade across the continent. Our doting brother helped with the legal paperwork and permits."
My brows rose. "Cassian helped you with this? That's rare. Usually, he just lectures me on 'responsibility.'"
Kron chuckled. "Oh, he's still lecturing me. But he's also smart enough to see the value in my plan. Besides—" he leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together— "we're doing this for him too."
I raised an eyebrow. "For him?"
"For the future King of Ardentis," Kron said simply. "We build the infrastructure, he reaps the stability. Everyone wins."
His logic was annoyingly sound. "Still," I said, "don't use him too much. He's our brother, not a pawn."
Kron waved a dismissive hand. "Relax. I treat family as assets of the highest tier."
"That doesn't make it better," I deadpanned.
"Fine, fine," he sighed, then smiled faintly. "But you'll love this next part."
"What part?"
"I've built a church for you."
My thoughts froze. "...What?"
He leaned forward, clearly enjoying my shock. "A church. Dedicated to you. To the Primordial Magus."
For a moment, I could only stare. Me? A church? No one had ever built one for the God of Magic. Throughout the eons, countless civilizations had stolen my name, rewritten it, worshipped shadows of my truth—but never had anyone truly honored me with a temple. Even when I ruled the arcane, I was respected, not revered.
"You… you actually did it," I murmured, voice quieter than I intended.
Kron smirked. "Of course. It's for profit too, naturally. You'll get divine faith; I'll get donations and influence. Everyone wins."
I chuckled softly, though my chest felt oddly warm. "You've changed, brother."
He tilted his head. "I've simply adapted. We can't reign as gods, so we'll thrive as men."
I sighed, half in admiration, half in disbelief. "Maybe I should start taking lessons from you."
Kron gave a teasing grin. "Heh, I wouldn't mind being your teacher for once."
"Don't push it," I said, smiling faintly. "Still… thank you."
He shrugged, trying to hide his satisfaction. "We're going to its inauguration tomorrow. So try not to explode anything on the way there."
The Next Morning
The royal carriage rattled gently as it rolled down the paved road. Sunlight spilled through the small windows, casting golden reflections across the polished interior. I sat beside Kron, wearing a white tunic under a deep crimson coat, the color of embers just before dawn.
He, as usual, looked infuriatingly calm. "You look nervous," he said without looking at me.
"I'm not nervous," I lied. "Just… curious."
He smiled knowingly. "It's alright. It's not every day you get your first church."
I glanced outside as the carriage slowed. Crowds filled the streets—nobles in their finery, commoners in roughspun clothes, even scholars from the academy. And all of them… were here for me.
When we stepped out, I was not prepared for what I saw.
The church loomed before us like a divine palace carved from moonlight itself. Its spires pierced the clouds, and its white marble façade shimmered faintly with arcane sigils that pulsed like living veins of light. Massive doors stood open, revealing a cathedral of glass and silver, where floating runes rotated slowly in midair, illuminating the altar in a soft, ethereal glow.
It was breathtaking. It was mine.
"By the laws themselves…" I whispered. "Kron, this isn't a church. This is—"
"A palace," he finished, grinning proudly. "Our dear Cassian never disappoints. I asked for a small chapel, and he handed me the deed to an entire cathedral district. Overbearing, but efficient."
I laughed under my breath. "He really is too much sometimes."
"Better too much than too little," Kron said, straightening his collar. "Now come on, deity of mine. Your worshipers await."
We moved through the crowd. People bowed as we passed. Some whispered prayers, others reached out as if touching our robes might grant them blessings. I felt their belief—thin, uncertain, yet warm. Each flicker of faith brushed against my consciousness like a candle flame.
For the first time in eons, I felt… seen.
"Why are there so many people?" I murmured to Kron.
"They're here for you, idiot," he said with a grin. "You're the god this church is dedicated to. Of course they'd want to see their 'divine patron.'"
I blinked, the realization sinking in. "You mean… I'm the official deity of this church?"
He nodded, utterly pleased with himself. "Congratulations. You're now legally worshiped."
I stared at the cathedral again, laughter bubbling up in disbelief. "If you had asked for this for yourself, he'd have given you a cottage. But since it's 'for both of us'…"
"He gave us a kingdom's worth of marble," Kron finished smugly.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, shaking my head. "You really are the god of loopholes."
"Thank you," he said, entirely sincere.
The ceremony began. High-ranking priests led the opening rites, chanting ancient words that resonated faintly with the old divine frequency—the one I helped build when reality itself was still malleable. It was strange hearing mortals imitate the language of creation.
When they unveiled the central statue, I nearly choked.
The sculpture was exquisite—marble, silver, and enchanted glass interwoven to create the likeness of a young man, perhaps fifteen years old, wearing flowing robes, a staff in one hand, and a blindfold of light across his eyes. His features… were unmistakably mine.
Kron leaned in. "Handsome, isn't he?"
I glared. "You copied my face."
He grinned. "Correction: I immortalized it."
I groaned softly. "You're insufferable."
"I know," he said cheerfully. "Consider it my gift."
The crowd erupted in cheers as priests proclaimed the founding of The Church of the Primordial Arcane. Banners unfurled, incense filled the air, and my supposed image towered above, bathed in divine light.
As I stood there—half amused, half touched—I couldn't help but feel a strange stirring within. Maybe this was what humans meant by belonging. To be admired, even if for the wrong reasons. To be believed in.
I looked at Kron beside me, smirking like a mischievous architect of fate.
"Maybe," I murmured to myself, "this is how humans have fun."
Kron glanced my way. "What's that?"
"Nothing," I said, smiling faintly. "Just thinking… maybe this is the beginning of something."
He nodded. "It is. Our first real foothold in this world."
And as the cheers of the crowd rose like a hymn, I felt it—a faint current of divine energy, trickling from the worshipers into my core. Warm. Gentle. Real.
The Church of the Primordial Arcane had been born.
And with it… my second chance at godhood.