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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/That2009WeirdEmoKid on 2025-12-17 14:58:09+00:00.

Gods are born from the faith of mortals.

Since the ideals of every culture are embodied by the deities they worship, the introduction of a new god is always a challenge to the values of the current age.

Human beings, however, have a unique relationship to this aspect of the divine. Unlike elvenkind and other long-lived people, resurrection magic doesn’t work on them, making them the most mortal folk of all New Gaia.

It may seem like a handicap but this, along with their short lifespans, also grants them the most zealous faith of any other people.

And so, if enough humans start believing in a minor spirit, said entity can ascend into godhood far more easily than if worshipped by a similar amount of dwarves or elves.

In theory, this makes human cults incredibly dangerous. And, historically speaking, it has led to several holy wars that ended in periods of human dominance. In practice, though, nobody can use it to their advantage for too long.

This is because humans, ironically enough, can also be some of the most faithless bastards in all the lands, killing their own gods as soon as they stop being useful.

To be more precise, their faith is strong, yet fickle and rarely earned since it’s difficult to get them to believe in anything in the first place.

More often than not, I’ve found they would rather fight a god than worship it.

That is why, when I first heard rumors of a human god being worshipped in the province of Illuria, I couldn’t help but dismiss it as gossip.

Arthux, my human mentor, didn’t see it that way. He knew better than most the danger this might pose. The Great Dragon War, where he lost an arm and the use of his leg, was famously started due to the rise of a new dragon god.

During our first journey along the coastal highway, we had already noticed a strange symbol in the shape of a mule being displayed on the doors of many inns and human dwellings.

This wasn’t enough to alarm me, since regional spirits are common everywhere, but Arthux was someone who rarely overlooked details like that. This was his homeland. He hadn’t heard of this entity yet which suggested it was a relatively recent trend.

And so, like the lazy jerk he was, he ordered me to investigate while he drank alone at the nearest bar.

I soon learned that the entity was called Mulish, a wind spirit that seemed to be embodying the concept of stubbornness.

Supposedly, it started its journey by rescuing sailors that were lost at sea. More specifically, Mulish aided those who never gave up on seeing land again, changing the wind to their advantage in the direction of the nearest port.

After a few decades of this, it gained fame along the Illurian coast for being a benevolent spirit and grew its influence inland, helping people even deep in the countryside.

“And I’m going to fight it,” said Arthux.

I tilted my head, confused. “Why? Didn’t you hear me? It’s helping people.”

“For now. That’s how it always starts. Think about it. Stubbornness? That’s not exactly a positive trait.”

The irony of Arthux saying this, of all people, was not lost on me but I knew better than to comment on it.

“Furthermore,” he continued, “I’m pretty sure this spirit is behind all the recent incidents we’ve investigated. The storm. The elf who got his soul sucked out. This isn’t normal. Something is turning the spirits in this area more volatile, and this might be our only chance to stop it from going too far.”

I narrowed my eyes, still skeptical of his reasoning. “Can we really do that?”

“Of course,” said Arthux, confident. “It’s a spirit, which means we can exorcise it like any other.”

“By beating it up?”

“Indeed.”

“And… what if it already ascended into godhood?”

“Then I’ll hit it harder.”

I blinked a few times, processing what I heard. After everything I had witnessed him do, it was fully possible that Arthux was just being honest here; not cocky.

“Trust me,” added Arthux. “I’ve done it before.”

“W-what? Really?”

Arthux nodded. “The last thing this world needs is more gods. Especially a human one. That’s how the Cataclysm got started all those millenia ago.”

“But… we’re Inquisitors. Isn’t it our job to serve the gods?”

“Our duty is to be arbiters of truth, regardless of who it serves. Mortal or divine. If not us, then who else will ensure the balance between the two?”

I had never seen Arthux take his role this seriously. It was suspicious enough that I couldn’t help but wonder if he had an ulterior motive, and yet I couldn’t question his logic. We proceeded to track the spirit’s whereabouts and, after a month of searching, we found the place where Mulish was most frequently seen.

It was a windy beach in a secluded cove far from any village or even the coastal highway.

We arrived at night, when it was most prone to act, but didn’t see it anywhere. The only thing present was a shrine made out of seashells that had been made in its honor. Apparently, this cove was the spot where Mulish left the first sailor it rescued.

Arthux then smashed the shrine with his wooden sword and said:

“That should make it show up.”

Just like he predicted, a few seconds later, a sandstorm formed around us. It was over just as suddenly as it arrived and, when it dissipated, a featureless humanoid spirit had appeared in front of us.

Its body shimmered with tangible moonlight that vaguely resembled the shape of an adult man, with unblinking eyes that emitted pure energy and a booming voice that said:

“Who dares disturb my shrine?”

“Grandmaster Inquisitor Arthux Wilfery.”

“Ah, the Divine Gatekeeper, I was warned about you.”

“Gatekeeper?” I said. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t like it when gods rise near my home,” said Arthux, taking a large gulp out of his old flask. “So I’ve made it a hobby to crush any minor deities that start gaining fame in this land.”

My brain almost broke after hearing that. The idea of a human hunting gods as a hobby sounded so ridiculous that I wondered if he had just gone insane.

It wasn’t until I actually saw them clash that I was immediately proven a fool.

Arthux took the initiative and lunged with his wooden sword, using its magic to fly with uncanny speed.

Mulish was able to easily sidestep his attacks but, by the third attempt, Arthux started moving faster and landed a clean hit.

The weight of his attack sent Mulish crashing into the rocky wall of the cove, creating an avalanche of debris.

I was blinded for the next few seconds. Judging from the noise, though, they were trading blows with increasing strength. By the time the debris cleared, Mulish was fully on the offensive, unleashing a flurry of punches.

Arthux parried all of them with swordstrikes of his own.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Mulish had a glimmer of desperation in its usually stoic face. I didn’t think a divine spirit could show an emotion like this until witnessing it that night. Mulish screamed with rage, then punched a hole through Arthux, leaving a bloody hole in his chest.

I started panicking until seeing the injury heal itself in a matter of seconds. I then realized his health potion cocktail had been active this entire time. He wasn’t nearly as fragile as I originally thought.

Unfortunately, Mulish didn’t show any signs of injury either. They both kept escalating the intensity of their strikes, each clash generating a shockwave that reverberated through land and sea.

It was at that point that I started worrying about my own safety. This was quickly spiraling out of control. I couldn’t even follow their movements anymore.

Arthux soon unleashed his strongest attack, a slash that had the weight of a continent behind it. It was so strong that it warped the space around it, almost shattering reality.

Mulish couldn’t do anything about it, taking the full brunt of it.

I had to cast a shield spell or I would’ve been sent flying away.

After the explosion quelled, Arthux fell on his knees. His regeneration was at its limit. He couldn’t stop bleeding anymore.

The entire cove had been flattened by his last attack, leaving it an empty beach.

It was incredible. Mulish had been disintegrated from the waist up.

I rushed to help Arthux but he shouted:

“Stay back!”

I didn’t understand his panic until Mulish started growing back its upper half.

Arthux couldn’t move. He still hadn’t recovered from the last attack.

Mulish took slow, deliberate steps as it headlessly shambled towards Arthux. When it recovered its head, it finally said:

“That was an incredible attack. Had I been any other of my brethren, you would have most certainly won.”

Arthux remained composed in light of this. “Kill me if you must.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re the first god that’s ever beaten me.”

“And?” said Mulish. “Do you still not realize why you lost?”

Arthux frowned. “No need to gloat.”

“It’s quite simple,” said Mulish. “I am the truth of your existence. By denying me, you deny your strength. And so, the more stubborn you are, the more you fuel my power.”

Arthux hung his head with a soft smile on his face. “I never stood a chance then.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. In the end, his inability to acknowledge his own stubbornness was his biggest blind spot.

“It’s fine if you still don’t trust me,” said Mulish, disappearing into the wind, “but let it be known that I’m the one god who doesn’t ask for your faith; only that you believe in yourself.”

Centuries later, I still think about that night and the impact it had on me. Far too much o...

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