The simple fact of the matter is that Divinity cannot ever be truly tested. Whereas we can sacrifice spirits on the table of experimentation, the only thing that is similar is basic biological function such as agelessness and some capacity to issue basic blessings. Even then, such tests are rather limited and only applicable for comparisons with low level Divines. A God of Windows for example is far more similar to the spirit that incarnates as a Fortress Deity rather than a major Divine.

The simple fact of the matter is that the more powerful we get, the more variation there is between us. There have been many attempts to try and classify and categorize us but the simple fact of the matter is that the Invention-Force-Abstract guidance system designed by Maisara is the most effect because it is the most open. There have been other methods theorized, one of the most famous is the Physical-Blessing-Magical guidance system, where Divines where categorized based off whether they were physically powerful (Fer & Maisara), blessing-based (Kassandora & Kavaa) or simply had unique powers (Elassa & Anassa). Yet this system was useless. For one, the vast majority of major Divines fall under the final category: Arascus, Allasaria, Irinika, Baalka, Olephia and Iniri all have wildly different showcases of strength, and yet they would all be ‘magical’. For two, a Divine such as Kassandora is physically powerful and yet her true lies in both intelligence and in blessing. A Divine such as Anassa can create sorcerers, which is a blessing, and yet she would be ‘magical’. The system was simply terrible, so it fell out of fashion.

Yet the simple fact of the matter is that someone like Anassa is fundamentally untestable. The woman can exist as one conscious split across bodies which exist leagues apart and act independently. There is no one else who is capable of this. The only way to truly test it is to run experiments on Anassa herself, yet why would Anassa submit to something which could potentially break her will or just outright kill her? Likewise, when testing strength, are we really going to ask whether Baalka can create an uncurable illness? What happens if it breaches containment? Better yet, are we going to push Olephia to her limits and see if when she speaks, her words will shatter the world or ignite the atmosphere? The simple fact of the matter is that trying to make a category fit any Divine specifically would be like trying to define the term ‘mammal’ solely by the platypus.

Thus, the system has to be open ended, wide as an ocean and yet shallow as a puddle. We are too dangerous, with too many potential world-ending problems abound, to truly test to the limit.

– Excerpt from “A Treatise on Divinity”, written by the White Pantheon collectively.

Malam patted the pistol on her hip as she all but glided through her base camp of the Special Imperial Service in Lubska. It was purposefully placed in the other end of the continent as to Rancais and in one of the poorest areas of Lubska. There was no reason for anyone to suspect any military activity here. Malam had not even ordered any construction here, the men slept in tents and trained in the woods. The Goddess of Hatred got to a line of men who had been stood in formation for some quarter of an hour now. “SIS Team One reporting Goddess!”

Malam stared at the men. They were all wearing clean uniforms, just as she demanded. All in black suits and white shirts. Black belts, black shoes that were freshly shined. Pistols on their hips. Some of them wore their sunglasses, some of them kept their glasses hanging off their top button, others kept them hidden. One man had his shirt button up to the top, others had theirs undone. One man did not have a single button done. His bare chest and stomach was just exposed to the fresh air of the forest and the gentle breeze through this campsite. Malam looked over the men.

These were the soldiers Kassandora and Kavaa had taken into the First Expedition. These were the men who had faced Be’elzebub and the hordes of demons underground. They had been devoured a dozen times each by flesh-eating flies, they had died a hundred times to a devil’s tooth and fist and claw and a thousand times to a heavy cleaver. When the Expedition had finally returned, many had walked off. Once Kavaa returned their stolen mortality, the first thing most did was immediately renounce it and walk into the sweet embrace of death that had could finally accept them.

But this set of men? Malam stared at them and they stared at her. These were the men who loved life so much that even after they had felt the flames of death hundreds of times over, they still clung on. It wasn’t a case of duty or responsibility or dullness. No, those had been the ones who made it out of the underground the first time. And the moment they had completed their duty, they had abandoned life as to not be handed another terrible task. Malam could not fault them, they made it to the end of the race, they just had not returned to compete a second time.

But this group? Malam met eyes so full of life that they were practically bursting at the seams. These were men who loved life so much they lounged in front of a Goddess. Who could not even be bothered to maintain a rank and made it into a winding snake? Who were given the pristine uniform of the SIS and made an effort to have it be tardy? No, this lot loved life so much that no matter what life through at them, they would still be here the next day. These were the types that became vengeful ghosts and haunted their enemies after they died. This lot could be killed a million times over and still come back unchanged.

Malam looked over the men. They demanded no explanation. They would get none either. They simply got jobs to do, materials to do them with, and then they were left on their merry way. Malam looked over the line. The men who had infiltrated into Rancais who had been part of the Tremali Brigade were starting to repeat targets. Men from Miseilles where now reporting on targets in Aris that they had managed to learn of, and the teams in Aris where reporting of Anarchia’s Blessed in Miseilles.

But the veterans of the Tremali Brigade, as advanced as they were, could not compete with men that moved like the wind and had strength to topple tanks like dominoes. Those veterans were men skilled in warfare and in killing, but one needed some critical thinking. A man mortal could not compete with men blessed. Competition came from other blessing. Victory came from simply being better: magician or sorcerer. Malam looked over the broken line of men as they lounged. At the very least, they had the decency not to talk in front of a Goddess although a few were obviously drunk. Most were smoking, one man was drinking from a flask.

The Goddess of Hatred stood in her black coat and uniform. Her blizzard of snow-white hair spilled out down her back as her smile grew larger. She pointed to one man. “You.” It was one of the types that was sober and standing at attention. He looked like he had something to prove, although in terms of looks, apart from eyes that seemed at the edge of mania, there was no tell of anything special. He wasn’t especially muscled, nor tall, nor short, nor particularly unfit either. His hair was cut short, as was standard. He looked horrendously passable. And yet he was the best humanity had to offer: sorcerer would bow, magician would flee, the blessed would cower and mundane men could consider him a God, for the man possessed power like no other. Or rather, he lacked one of humanity’s most defining elements: mortality.

In theory at least.

The man saluted and Malam gave the order. “Follow, the rest of you can disperse.” The Goddess of Hatred and began to through the camp. The man said nothing although the Goddess of Hatred did not want to particularly talk with him either. Malam followed pulled her phone out of her pocket as men returned to their tents. She could see them all for the only tent large enough to actually block sight of the Goddess was her own, where Malam kept her documents. Even then, there wasn’t anything particularly secret on them. These men, Malam trusted to do their job but she did not trust them to not stick their nose where it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t even keep a wardrobe of clothes here.

She rang Kavaa. The Goddess of Health picked up almost immediately. Well of course she did, the woman had been sent off as far away as Malam could send her without causing some diplomatic incident, so now Kavaa was supposed to be having a beach day in Kirinyaa. “How’s the weather sweetheart?” Malam asked before Kavaa could say anything.

The Goddess of Health groaned through the phone. “I hate you.” She said and Malam chuckled in as annoying fashion as she could.

“It’s warm then.”

“I’m not outside.” Kavaa said.

“I said you should get a tan.” Malam cooed. And again Kavaa groaned.

“Have you ran the test?” Kavaa asked.

“I wanted you to be here for it.” Malam said. It was sheer gut feeling, but she thought that Kavaa was curious herself on how her power of life could be pushed. There was no reasoning, she simply knew the woman at this point, maybe others would turn their gazes from witnessing an execution in real time, but would Kavaa?

No. Not Kavaa. Not the grand and gracious Goddess of Health that controlled all life within a human body. Never her. “Mmh.” Kavaa said. “So are you there?”

Malam looked behind herself, the man was still following. “Almost.” She walked out of the small camp and towards the forest. “So are you really going to come back pale as a ghost?”

“You’re no tanned beauty yourself either.” Kavaa said, again Malam chuckled.

“Tanned? No.” Malam responded. “Beauty though? What is more alluring than Hatred?” If there was one thing Malam appreciated in her own demesne, it was that no one expected her to be anything but self-indulgent.

“Love.” Kavaa replied immediately and Malam tutted.

“What a gal you are to stand up for Helenna like that.”

“I know it’s hard to see anyone but yourself when your head is up your own ass.” Kavaa replied and Malam laughed out to herself. Kavaa had been a precious little bunny for so long, and now she had finally grown comfortable to unleash that doctor’s tongue of hers. What a treat!

“Aren’t you a cutiepie?” Malam cooed and Kavaa sighed. How cute! It was like talking to Kassandora! She hated compliments too!

“So you rang to just be annoying or what?”

“I’m taking your man to the testing site now.” Malam answered, she resisted the temptation to touch her gun. It was a huge pistol, effectively an anti-tank rifle made for a Divine’s hand. Malam had seen it blast through walls of concrete.

“Ring me when you’re there.” Kavaa said and Malam rolled her eyes. Frankly, the cute and polite and wholesome Kavaa had been fun to pester. Kavaa over the phone was an entirely different beast.

“Well I’m almost there!” Malam said lied, she had only just gotten to the edge of the camp.

“Mmh.” Kavaa said. “It should work.”

“It should.” Malam said. There was no reason as to why it wouldn’t. But likewise, had this ever been done before? It was the same as when they discovered Fer got tremendous powers from drinking Divine blood back in the past, and then started to slowly feed her the essences of more and more powerful Divines. Who could really expect what would happen? Irinika’s blood had almost overwhelmed the Goddess of Beasthood and driven her insane. And was there any real tell? Irinika was not particularly vile, and yet Malam’s blood apparently was as sweet as honey for Fer, it simply wasn’t very powerful.

Kavaa had blessed the men with overflowing life. Or rather, she had filled them to the point of bursting with life essence. Apparently their hearts were beating twice as fast and their body temperature had been raised half a degree, but there were no visible effects. Supposedly, they should be immortal, and if they weren’t immortal, they should have so much life that their bodies could be destroyed and yet refuse to die.

But again, that was only in theory. There was no actual way to tell.

Malam walked for a mere minute into the forest. She always considered herself an impatient girl, and Kavaa was beginning to grumble over the phone. The Goddess of Hatred stopped and turned to the soldier. He came to a stop too. The two were in a forest, far enough that even if the camp heard what was about to happen, they wouldn’t see it. Malam could do a lot, but doing what she was about to do would be difficult to explain to the men. And it would be even worse if it did not work. At the end of the day, if she left a body here, she would be able to lie her way out of it. “Turn around and count to ten.” The man made an openly questioning look for a moment before turning around.

“One.” He began to count as Malam silently drew her pistol and aimed at the fellow’s head. “Two.” She licked her lips. “Three.” She pulled the trigger. Her hand tried to buckle with the recoil of a calibre meant for machines leaving the barrel. Smoke rose from the barrel, a huge bullet existed out. Malam’s eyes caught a sliver of it before it simply eviscerated the man’s head. In one instant, his mind was there, in the next, his head was missing. A faint red mist splattered over the trees and bushes and ground, slightly discolouring it with a shade of crimson.

Kavaa spoke over the phone. “Did you just do it?”

“I did.” Malam answered as she watched the now-headless man drop to his knees and then collapsed onto his chest. A small thud sent up a cloud of dust from the dry dust around him. Blood rapidly spilled out into a puddle from the top of his head. It streams through crevice left by root and into the hoofprints of animals.

“Did it work?” Kavaa asked, her voice low and hesitating. It was a pretence though, the Goddess of Health was feigning the horror and shock. Malam could tell, the answer had come to quickly, the words were slow but the tone did not quiver. Kavaa wanted to seem horrified, but Malam could sense the excitement. It was natural though, wasn’t it? Of course the Goddess of all Life wanted to see how far she could reach into Death’s demesne to drag men back out.

Malam saw sinew and bone immediately start reforming. The spinal column spiralled out of the corpse and flowered into a skull. Malam’s tar-black eyes grew wide and her smile ravenous. She watched brain explode into being from a few strands of nerve cells. She watched bone create empty eye-socket, and then that empty eye-socket be filled by green eyes. She watched gum rip itself apart as teeth reformed, and then she watched gum close around pristine white molars and canines. She saw fleshy strands become ears. She saw fresh skin turn pink as if it had just grown.

Malam watched the man who had just been killed spasm, punch the ground, and then take a deep breath as he rolled over onto his back. His eyes met Malam’s, his breathing was sharp and deep and fast. Those green eyes shone with a confusion that lasted for less than a second, and then became both victorious madness and mad victory.  

“Hello? You there?” It was obvious Kavaa already knew it had worked. Malam would have replied already if it hadn’t. The only reason she would be silent for so long was if she was watching Kavaa’s power in action. “Arda to Malam? It’s worked, hasn’t it?”

“Oh it worked alright.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep