THE CRIMSON PANTHEON

Chapter 3

A shape began to form in the red light. It was the silhouette of a woman made of pure fire, floating in front of him. She reached out a burning hand and gently touched his cheek.

"My domain is born from intimacy. It is born from the bed. It is born from the deep, raw connection of flesh and soul. To use my power, you must find vessels. Women of magic, women of latent bloodlines. You must bind them to you. The deeper your physical and emotional connection with them, the more invincible you will become. They will be your chalices. Without them, my power will burn you alive from the inside out."

Ronan’s mind spun. This was madness. He was dying in the mud, a giant troll about to smash his head, and this ancient entity was talking about passion and intimacy as the source of god-like power.

"It is a heavy crown," the voice whispered, noticing his hesitation. "Your enemies will hunt you. Other mortals have found different Seeds. Seeds of death, of war, of shadows. They are building kingdoms of blood. To survive, to protect the one you love, you must become a predator. A savage god. Or... you can refuse. I will leave you, time will resume, and you will die a mortal death in the dirt."

Ronan thought of the dark, cold feeling of death. He thought of Olivia, lying broken against the marble pillar. He thought of the Scavengers creeping toward her. He imagined their sharp teeth tearing into her skin.

A fierce, burning anger rose in his chest. It chased away any doubt, any fear. He did not care about the conditions. He did not care about the bizarre rules of this ancient magic. He did not care if he had to fight other gods, demons, or the whole entire world.

He refused to die as a victim. He refused to let Olivia die.

“I accept,” Ronan declared. His thoughts were loud, clear, and full of total determination. “Give me the power. I will take it all.”

The fiery silhouette smiled. It was a beautiful, terrifying smile.

"Then awake, my Champion. Awake, and show them the power of the flesh."

The woman of fire lunged forward, diving straight into Ronan’s chest.

WHOOSH!

The dark void exploded into blinding, golden light. Ronan felt like he had swallowed the sun. The heat was unbearable, painful, but incredibly powerful.

Suddenly, time snapped back into reality.

The roar of the burning sanctuary filled his ears again. The smell of ash and blood returned.

The Troll’s giant foot continued its downward stomp, carrying tons of crushing force.

But it never hit the ground.

Ronan’s eyes snapped open. They were no longer normal human eyes. They were glowing with a blinding, brilliant golden fire. Light poured out of his pupils, cutting through the dark smoke of the courtyard.

He didn't even think. He simply acted.

Ronan raised his right hand.

BAM!

The Troll’s massive, rough foot slammed into Ronan’s open palm. The sheer force of the blow created a shockwave of air that blew the mud and ash away in a perfect circle around them.

But Ronan did not move. He did not sink into the ground. His arm was completely straight, holding up the weight of the ten-foot monster with a single, bare hand.

The Troll let out a confused grunt. It pushed down harder, but it felt like pushing against a solid mountain of iron.

Inside Ronan’s body, a miracle of violence was happening. The golden fire from the Seed of Eros surged through his veins. He felt his shattered ribs snapping back into place with loud pops. The terrible cuts on his arms and chest stitched themselves together in a matter of seconds. The thick, wet blood in his throat vanished, replaced by deep, clean breaths of air.

He squeezed his fingers. His hand closed around the thick skin of the Troll’s foot.

CRUNCH.

The monster roared in absolute agony as Ronan’s grip effortlessly crushed the bones in its foot.

With a roar of his own—a sound that was half-human and half-something much older and angrier—Ronan pushed upwards. He didn't just push the foot away. He threw the entire massive creature backward.

The Abyssal Troll flew through the air, crashing onto its back fifty feet away, sliding through the mud and smashing through a broken stone wall.

Ronan slowly sat up. He looked down at his hands. The skin was flawless, glowing slightly with a faint, warm light. He clenched his fists, feeling strength he could not even begin to understand. He felt like he could punch a hole straight through a mountain. The power was intoxicating. It made his blood pump fast and hard.

But then, a sharp, burning pain shot through his chest. It felt like a knife twisting in his heart. His glowing veins started to bulge, turning a bright, angry red. The golden fire flickered wildly.

The seductive voice whispered in his mind again, urgent and commanding.

"The power is too much for your mortal shell to hold alone. You are burning up. Look to the girl. Bind the dying flame to ignite your divinity. Do it now, or turn to ash!"

Ronan gasped, clutching his chest. He looked across the ruined courtyard. The Scavengers had stopped moving toward Olivia. They were frozen in fear, staring at the glowing, golden man who had just thrown a Troll across the yard.

Olivia was lying by the pillar, still unconscious, her breathing weak.

The Abyssal Troll let out a furious, deafening roar from the rubble. It stood back up, shaking the dust off its huge body. Its crushed foot was bleeding black slime, but the pain only made it angrier. Its red eyes locked onto Ronan with pure, wild hatred. It picked up its heavy stone club and began to charge, the ground shaking with every heavy step.

Ronan ignored the charging mountain of muscle. He ignored the pain tearing through his own body. He locked his glowing golden eyes on Olivia. He understood what the voice meant. He understood what he had to do to survive, to master this wild, passionate power.

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, standing tall in the burning ruins. His wounds were gone, replaced by the aura of a savage god. He took a deep breath, letting the golden fire burn in his eyes, and took his first step toward the injured woman.