Chapter 17: Am I a God? I Don’t Know—My Father Never Said

Erebos, true to his cunning and deceitful nature, had already devised a plan in his mind.

He approached the torch that symbolized the one true god, stretching his neck like an actor about to burst into a grand aria:

“Then let our lord be the judge!”

“Logan, I have come before the sacred flame together with this pitiful illusion! Let the holy fire pour down—”

Aaron roared:

“Stop—Don’t be an idiot and think I am one too.”

Yet, to Aaron’s surprise, Logan nodded:

“Aaron, you truly need to prove yourself. I have already crossed a line by sparing you. If you are willing to submit, and the sacred fire pours down upon you and you endure it completely, then I will handle your flesh as you desire.”

Erebos revealed a sinister smile.

There was no one true god—only a grand ruse crafted by the gods of darkness.

As long as the other refused to prove himself according to his terms, Erebos could shatter Logan’s trust in Aaron.

He would tightly control the growth of this demigod, binding him to his own path!

Hearing this, Aaron looked at Logan with a hint of disappointment.

What could he do if his brother was so foolish?

If their father were here, he would have kicked him, right to the ground, sparking a fierce fight.

Aaron lifted his head, gripping the handle of his chainsaw sword, glaring fiercely at Erebos.

He laughed aloud:

“In that case, if I endure your so-called sacred fire, you’ll also need to prove something to me.”

After all, this was just a dream; any injuries wouldn’t affect reality.

He would simply imagine himself unharmed—problem solved!

Erebos was ecstatic!

This man had taken the bait willingly!

If Aaron refused to prove himself, he’d be branded a dark worshiper.

If he agreed, Erebos would summon the power of the dark gods, unleashing all manner of terrifying and spectacular manifestations, painting him as the very image of the demon child’s arrival.

Then, Logan would be forced to kill Aaron immediately.

Demons do not tolerate the desecration of the sacred flame!

Erebos never worried about Aaron’s fall, for the dark gods whispered directly into one’s ear, seducing the most extreme emotions of pitiful humans.

Aaron rested his chainsaw sword against the metal platform and confidently strode toward the torches.

To him, all harm was confined to a dream; the only challenge was to endure without fading or awakening.

He studied the torch—its flames blazed fiercely, warm but devoid of any emotion.

It was merely the heat released from burning matter.

Along the way, Marum had explained this while cooking by sparking fire with just his hands.

In extreme cases, the celestial palace guards could create sparks from steel striking steel by rubbing their skin.

So Aaron began to imagine himself as a celestial palace guard, steadfast and unyielding.

As Aaron stood beneath the torch, Logan felt an unfamiliar swell of emotion within his heart.

He seemed unwilling to let this self-proclaimed brother risk himself.

His fingers twitched, ready to stop the entire ordeal, contradicting his earlier words.

Yet the flames were not lethal—many mortals had endured them.

At worst, they caused burns to the skin but no serious injury.

Special herbs could heal such wounds.

This was why Logan had initially agreed to Erebos’s plan.

Still, watching this immature boy, putting on airs of adulthood, nervously standing with closed eyes beneath the torch, Logan felt his heart waver for the first time.

Aaron took a deep breath, stretched his body, and looked up at Logan with a radiant smile—the smile itself was sunshine.

“My brother, don’t worry. I was wild as a child. Mother said I caused a lot of trouble—maybe even climbed Apollo’s sacred fire just to be the first to taste the crispy, tender bull meat. Hah—don’t worry about me.”

Logan had no mind to listen to Aaron’s stories; he only saw that smile and wanted to stop this farce.

But before he could speak, Erebos, grinning with excitement, toppled the torch.

Erebos’s laughter was sharply different from Aaron’s.

Erebos should have been one of Colchis’s most admired young men: courteous, brave, and modest.

This triumphant, malicious grin was unlike anything Logan had ever seen on his face—was it an illusion?

The flames poured down, chunks of burning fuel striking Aaron’s body and bouncing off.

Sparks fell, igniting Aaron’s clothes, which were soon engulfed in flames.

Erebos silently prayed: gods, seduce this poor soul back into the embrace of chaos!

The plan to guide the cursed child must not fail!

Under Erebos’s invocation, the flames transformed into billowing black smoke, from which ghastly demon shapes emerged, circling Aaron, shielding him.

Feigning shock, Erebos fell backward onto the ground:

“Saint! Logan! You have witnessed it with your own eyes! He is a monster, a trick of the dark gods, a phantom designed to lure you into corruption!”

“Burn him! Burn him!”

As Erebos’s terrified shouting filled the air, the flames around Aaron turned into magical fire—burning only his clothes, causing no harm or scorching to his body.

“Is that all?” Aaron opened his eyes, curiously examining his strange state.

It didn’t even hurt as much as when the initial fuel chunks hit him.

He looked up, hearing the forbidden whispers of the gods in the flames:

“When did you arrive? God of Gloom?”

Aaron pointed at himself:

“Huh? God of Gloom, me? Damn, I really am a god!”

The voice hesitated:

“No, this is not your era. Though without allegiance, you shouldn’t be here. Gloom, fade away, fade away!”

Aaron urgently asked:

“Hey, who are you? And how do you know I’m a god?”

The voice twisted in confusion:

“You don’t know you’re a god? No, how can you think you are one?”

Erebos’s plan was faltering—this creature was problematic.

How could he acknowledge it so easily?

He should have been fearful, hesitant, argumentative—only then could Erebos manipulate his mind into corruption, turning him into a demonic kin.

But this man seemed even more eager to believe he was a god than Erebos himself.

Aaron scratched his head, feeling the harmless flames:

“I don’t know. My father never said, only that I’m an ordinary person who might live longer.”

“But—”

He shifted tone, laughing heartily:

“Though the name God of Gloom doesn’t sound pleasant, at last, I’m acknowledged as a god!”

“I told you that old fellow was unreliable—he’s a god, my mother’s a god, so how could I be mortal!”

Aaron laughed like a madman, full of joy.

Even in a dream, he had affirmed his divine identity!

Of course, it might be an illusion conjured by the flames, demons at play.

But it didn’t matter—enjoying these few minutes of happiness was enough.

Aaron was optimistic, about to share his joy when he saw everyone before him ready for battle, many worshipers brandishing weapons pointed at him.

Even Logan, his own brother, wore a pained expression but lifted the mace.

Erebos hurriedly rose, hiding behind Logan, his tone dark:

“Saint! You have seen it with your own eyes! This man is the very incarnation of the dark gods!”

“Now, strike him down!”

Logan fell silent, raising his mace.