New Tricks and Old Gods

The character sheet looked mostly the same, but there were a few upgrades. My health bar was a bit bigger now. I felt it, too—a little tougher, like I wouldn't crumple into a heap the first time a goblin poked me a bit too hard.

Scrolling down, a new section blinked at me: Invocations. Two shiny choices. There were a handful of options. Obviously the classics. "Beast Whisperer"—talk to animals. Cute, if I wanted to start a conversation with dogs or cows, but I was on the prowl for some other prey. "Armor of Shadows"—summon magical armor. Handy, but honestly, if it got to the point where I needed magical armor, I’d probably already screwed up.

Nah. I had my eye on two very special ones, these I had not seen before.

Alluring Blast: Channel your Eldritch Blast into a non-damaging psychic touch at melee range. Inflicts intense pleasure without knocking the target ****.

Compelling Blast: Your Eldritch Blast pulls creatures toward you instead of pushing them away.

Instead of blasting enemies across the field, I’d be reeling them in nice and close—and then the fun really started. It was perfect, and I picked both without hesitation. As soon as I confirmed the choices, a warm buzz ran down my arms. I flexed my fingers, the sensation of new magic coiling through them electric and enticing, already begging to be used irresponsibly. But before I could think on how to test it out, a familiar voice oozed into my mind.

"My beautiful blade... You see it now, don't you?"

I sighed. Of course he couldn't just leave me alone for five minutes.

"This world has long resisted my touch. Locked away behind petty gods and stubborn mortals with silly morals. They deny me, all because they find my appetites 'unsavory'."

There was a flash of something almost like a pout in his voice.

"But you, my dear Tav, you are the fracture in the firmament. Not of this world, and thus unshackled by its petty logics and rigid moralities. Where others are chained by the rules set before them and their silly alignments, you are free—and Bound to me. You are the vessel by which my will shall spill into this very land, turn all that is pure into what is only perverse. Not by the crude cries of war but through uncontrollable moans of pleasure. Through hunger, lust and need. Through the sweet, inevitable unraveling of resistance. Go now, little blade, and with every whispered gasp and broken will, reshape this world in my image."

The voice faded, leaving only a lingering sense of theatrical self-importance behind.

Honestly? It could have been worse. Becoming the avatar of "unsavory appetites" sounded like a hell of a job description, but at least it came with perks—power, freedom, and, perhaps best of all, the tantalizing promise of an elusive harem route. Dangerous? Absolutely. Yet, in a world where vengeful gods were practically a tradition, it almost seemed fitting that I would ascend as the patron saint of corruption.

I dusted the sand off my pants and got moving. Big cosmic plans or not, I was still only just at the start of the adventure, literally. As I picked my way through the scattered debris, my eyes weren't searching aimlessly—I was looking for a very specific someone. The beach was a graveyard of shattered Nautiloid wreckage, glittering under the sun, but it was the figure lying a little farther down the shore that caught my full attention. She was lying a little ways down the beach, armor scuffed and stained. I strolled over, hands on my hips sauntering over to my fist victim, Shadowheart. Up close, she looked almost angelic, her face was relaxed in sleep, her breathing steady.

Poor girl. She had no idea what she'd signed up for by being in my general vicinity.

I crouched beside her, doing a quick once-over. Battered, bruised, and thoroughly ****. A perfect test subject. I flexed my fingers, letting a tiny pulse of the new magic build between them. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to… say hello. Carefully, I hovered my hands over her, allowing a gentle buzz of psychic energy to roll off my fingertips and wash across her exposed skin.

Her body shivered almost immediately. A soft noise slipped from her lips—something between a sigh and a whimper. With the gloves amplifying the flow, I split the magic—one hand tracing along her jawline, the other drifting lazily down the curve of her thigh. No real touching. Just... suggestions.

Shadowheart twitched, her breath hitching. Her hands clenched weakly in the sand. I leaned back on my heels, satisfied. No need to push my luck. I wasn’t looking to break her, or for her to wake up and break me. Lets just keep it friendly for now. A few seeds planted here and there. The sweetest fruits took time to ripen.

I stood up, stretching lazily, and made my way over as she began to stir.

"Morning, sunshine. Rough night?" I offered with a half-smirk.

Shadowheart groaned and pressed a hand to her temple. "How are we still alive?"

"We must've been saved for a reason," I said, playing it up with a dramatic shrug. "Maybe fate, maybe divine intervention..?" I reached out my hand, carefully playing into her strong faith, a very usable tool for later schemes.

She eyed it warily, then sighed and took it. I pulled her up, steadying her as she found her footing.

Grinning, I brushed my hands off and glanced down the beach. I'd survived the crash, leveled up, tested out a few new magical toys, and gained a dazed party member. Not a bad morning’s work, all things considered.