God of What? 17 (Patreon)

God of What?

Chapter 17

-VB-

Bell Cranel

“Y-You didn’t have to do that! Your god is a good guy!” she didn’t quite shriek but it was a close thing.

She didn’t expect Yor to just … just really hit his own god like that! It wasn’t a play-hit! Marris was bleeding all over the floor.

Yor snorted, wiping the blood on his knuckles, while his new Familia members trembled in fear. He turned to them and looked them over. He looked… like a customer buying meat.

“I don’t know where or how you ended up in this familia,” he began. “But I won’t hesitate to kick you out if you don’t pull your weight. That means eating well, sleeping well, training well, and learning well.” Then he slammed his feet onto the floor. The impact shook the entire house and made all of the kids freeze up. “Is that clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

“Okay!”

“Yes, c-captain!”

“*sob*”

Bell snapped her head toward the crying girl. She glared at Yor again, quickly wiped the blood off of Marris… only to find nothing wrong?

“Huh?”

Her utterance caught the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Surprise~!” Marris grinned as he got up with not a single sign of damage on him.

The kids immediately swarmed him, previous fear of the captain forgotten in the face of awesome power.

But Bell didn’t forget.

How could Yor be so … so violent to his own god!

Yor saw the glare she was giving him and sighed. He gestured for her to come with him as he stepped outside, and she followed him. She expected a very good reason for his outburst!

When they were finally outside, he turned around, looked at her, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you the one that’s upset?” he asked her.

“Because you were so violent!”

He shrugged. “It’s how my familia rolls, Bell. When both members of the familia can regenerate, hitting back and forth without any malice is not a problem. That’s what contact sport is.”

She leveled a deadpan stare at him. “I don’t think you hit your god without any malice.”

“Only in irritation for the irresponsible and impulsive manner that he acts,” he denied.

“Then why are you so mean to the kids?!”

“Because they are exactly that: kids. Orphans kids may have a better understanding of the realities of the world, but kids are ultimately immature little shits incapable of differentiating right from wrong. I put my foot down and made it very clear to them that I will not take shit from them.”

“But that’s not what a familia is about!”

“Your familia, yes, Bell,” he agreed. “My familia, as my own god dictated, is a little bit more cutthroat than yours.”

She startled when she realized that he was looming over her. He looked scary with the shade obscuring his features except his eyes. Those wide eyes that once praised her looked at her … like meat.

“I’ll be honest with you, Bell. You and your goddess are probably one of the few people we will not hurt or betray. You’ve been good to me and my god.” Then he lowered himself, which certainly made the previous impression less scary, and now he just looked concerned and not looking at her like meat. “But anyone else in Orario? If it means we get ahead, then I’ll do whatever I have to do. If that way is legal and fluffy nice, then all the better. If not, then so be it.”

She bit her lips and looked away.

“... I need to think.”

“Okay.”

She turned and walked away.

-VB-

Alan Marris

Later that night, Yor and I met again in the locked basement. The walls thrummed with black flesh of my creation, and the baths, now pools with how big they were, also thrummed.

Both of us watched as one of our own rose up from one of those pools.

It was an idea that came to us earlier today after Hestia and Bell left to go their own thing. We realized that this influx of orphan familia members gave us an excuse to add more of ourselves in disguise to our numbers.

And so, a prepubescent version of ourselves walked out of the pool and …

“Blargh. The spawn pool tastes like shit.”

Unlike my and Yor’s darker hair, this clone had lighter blonde hair edging on ginger.

“Got a name for yourself?” Yor asked sternly.

The newcomer looked up at Yor and scoffed.

“I’m gonna act like a shithead so that you have an excuse to show the other kids what real punishment will be like if they don’t fall in line. How about Victim?”

Yes, this was kind of a compromise. See, what Yor said to Bell wasn’t false but we didn’t want to go out of our way to hurt, maim, torture, kill, and harm others in gruesome and memorable manners. We also didn’t want to take a stick to the kids I just adopted. No, no, no. I wasn’t cruel but discipline was necessary. That’s how our latest member was born. What else was the best way other than being disciplined yourself? Seeing others disciplined.

“Victim…” I mused. “Make it less cringe. Maybe Victom?”

Both Yor and “Victim” looked at me with deadpan states.

“What?”

Yor turned back to “Victim.” “How about Tom?”

“Tom works.”

“What? What was wrong with my choice?!” I asked indignantly.

““Everything.””