Of the various groups of deities that ruled the Higher Planes, one stood above the rest, honored both for their transcendent powers and their proximity to the Lord: the five Wrathful Gods.
Ananta, Heruka, Ahriman, Vritra, and Bhaira. Two Gods and three Antigods.
Heruka, the Red God, was known as one of the most ferocious gods in existence, a warrior so obsessed with sensual dances, flame rituals and blood sacrifices that in ancient times, it used to be mistaken for an Antigod.
And while the faith evolved to promote less violent ceremonies and present Heruka as a heroic divine protector, the Red God only accorded its favors to warriors with kill counts in the triple digits at the very least.
A massive red cloud took shape above the venue, blotting out the sky.
'Child of Vritra, you didn't forget the blood sacrifice and performed the ceremony with divine flames, showing me proper respect.
I approve of your austerities. However, you do not worship me, so why should I grant you my boons?
You now have two choices ahead of you--give me your soul and become my servant so you may receive my powers and sacraments, or die for disturbing me in vain.' A deadpan voice echoed in Mithras' mind, and the moment next, he appeared in a burning throne room, standing before a blinding pillar of red flames.
In the middle of that pillar, a shadowy figure hovered, facing Mithras with a pair of oppressive scarlet eyes.
Undisturbed, Mithras' lips curled up, and he sat on the burning ground, joining his hands in a prayer sign.
"The Lord is my savior; praise be his name. In his heart I trust, to his mercy I surrender..." Mithras sang his mantra, and to the Red God's shock, a burst of resplendent light erupted from the youth's form, sweeping through the Red God's divine hall.
Performing Austerities to a deity that you didn't worship was no different from courting death. There was, however, one exception to this rule: the Lord's devotees.
The Lord's devotees didn't have to worship other deities to receive their blessings. But the Lord doesn't accept devotees based on their faith in him, instead using random criteria that change from one person to the other. For that reason, the Lord had the least number of devotees among top-ranking divine beings.
Pyrogasmic Genesis and the Sacraments of the Red Gods, with those two boons, Mithras had obtained the strongest war tools that the Red God's closest followers had access to. And he still had one boon left.
There was nothing Lysander could give him that compared to the Red God's boons. So why exactly...was Lysander here?
"I don't understand. Didn't you want to stab me in the chest and cut off my head? I was serious, you know. If you can take it, my head's yours. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. So how about fulfilling yours and giving me the land and title deeds of Ruba?" Mithras asked in a calm and mischievous tone, tightening his fist around the third stone.
"Stop playing around! What do you want? My father will..." When the king's face flashed through Lysander's mind, the crown prince went livid, stuttering for words.
"O-oh lord, my father! W-what have you made me give my father?"
"Make you? Again, false accusations. You wanted something to help you keep your elders out of this, and I gave you just that: king-class Gorefiend Fragrance," Mithras said with a straightforward tone, sending Lysander reeling with the realization that he'd likely doomed his father to death.
"You...you didn't."
"Of course, I did. But don't worry. The Queen Mother is hella strong. With her help and your family's reliable Blood-Smelting Gene, your old man has about a 30% chance of survival—albeit with one less arm, leg, or eye.
Let's drop that to zero," Mithras said and with one squeeze, crushed the third stone. The image of Gaiseric choking in the royal palace appeared for all to see. And as Lysander's heart broke at the pain he'd caused his father, Vel'Asha successfully drained the poison.
Lysander's lips curled into a radiant smile. But the moment next, a flurry of divine flames embroiled Gaiseric's body, also lighting Vel'Asha on fire.
"Dad! Queen Mother! Noooo!" Lysander snapped and reached for the picture projection. His hands went through the image, making no difference to reality.
"Thanks to the way I've worded my wish, you have about ten seconds before your most beloved elders burn to a crisp. So, what do I want? What is it that you have that made me waste a divine boon to blackmail you into giving it up?
Well crown prince, if you think about it hard enough, it is pretty obvious.
The only good thing about you...is your destiny," Mithras said to the crown prince's face, and unbeknown to the audience, as Mithras faced Lysander, the words Great Blood Emperor flashed above the Crown Prince's head, rippling with mysterious energies.