A group of red-scale figures approaches and halts before a towering gate, its perimeter sealed by a shimmering energy barrier.
Above the gate, a tiger-orc emerges, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes in the strangers. They are unlike any tribe he has ever seen—part monkey-orc, part lizard-orc, their forms agile and wiry like monkey-orcs but covered in crimson scales that glint in the light.
The tiger-orc calls down, voice rough and wary, “What do you want?”
One of the red-scale figures steps forward. “We seek an audience with your totem.”
The tiger-orc’s expression twists into disdain. Ever since his tribe ascended to the rank of a Great Tribe, countless smaller tribes from the surrounding lands had come seeking to surrender themselves, hoping for protection or favour. Every one of them had been turned away by their totem’s command. The tiger-orc had never understood why their great totem rejected such offers, but it was not his place to question.
“You can turn back,” he barked. “Our totem does not need another tribe’s surrender.”
The red-scale figure’s voice remained calm. “Who said anything about surrendering? We are here only to congratulate your totem on awakening.”
The tiger-orc blinked, caught off guard. Awakening? His totem had indeed seemed… different of late—its once domineering nature tempered into a more serene, watchful presence.
A month ago, it had shifted from restless aggression to the calm confidence of a predator at its peak. And only two weeks had passed, it had ascended to the rank of Great Totem, swiftly defeating every rival totem in the region.
“What nonsense are you spouting?” the tiger-orc demanded.
Without another word, the red-scale figure tossed something toward him—a crystal the size of a fist, glowing faintly red, with a single golden droplet suspended inside.
The tiger-orc caught it midair. “What is this?”
“Show it to your totem,” the red-scale figure replied evenly. “In the meantime, we will wait here.”
Weighing the crystal in his palm, the tiger-orc’s suspicion deepened. Whatever these strangers carried, it seemed important enough for the totem to see. Leaping down from the wall, he strode toward the inner sanctum—toward the subordinate totem that served as their great totem’s extension within the city.
Reaching the sanctum, he stopped by a shaman.
He explains the reason.
The shaman doesn’t believe a mere tribe of mixed lizard and monkey orcs could have anything important to discuss with their totem.
He is about to refuse.
But the soldier shows the red crystal, and the shaman’s expression changes as he senses an unknown spirituality from it that he has never felt before.
He takes the red crystal and walks to the totem.
He prays upon the totem to descend its mind here.
A voice speaks in his mind, “Why call me?”
The shaman replies with respect, “Lord, this,” showing the red crystal.
The totem’s consciousness probes the red crystal.
In the totem’s mind, an image appears—ten divine kingdoms gathered together, a vast divine kingdom above them, and beneath them countless worlds supplying the divine kingdoms with the power of faith.
The totem understands it is a fifth-stage God Lord’s token.
The shaman hears, “Where did you get it?”
The shaman relays everything.
In a few minutes, only the red-scale figures remain standing before the totem.
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“Respected great being, we seek you to join our Vanusus Kingdom.”
The totem says, "I am a crippled god. Why does your Vanusus Kingdom want me to join them?"
The red-scale figure hesitates.
The totem says, "Our Vanusus Kingdom is at war against the blasphemous Tanarid Tech, and your priesthood may help us to win the war."
The totem wonders how his priesthood of Life and Transformation can help them win a war.
Then realisation dawns on him—he can create innumerable cannon fodder.
This world was once his divine kingdom, but after his God Crystal shattered into countless pieces, he fell asleep for countless years.
The life within the god domain mostly perished, but the beasts survived.
Because of his power, they transformed into the beast-orc race.
They need cannon fodder for the war.
The red-scale figure says, "We would help you recover."
The totem shows disdain.
"Do I need help with this?"
The red-scale figure replies, "My lord, you don’t—but we can quicken the process."
The totem says, "If this is what you can give, I am going to say no."
The red-scale figure says, "Members of Tanarid Tech also followed us into this world."
"They are blasphemous—they would want to capture you."
The atmosphere in the room turns heavy, and the red-scale figures begin to huff, having difficulty breathing.
One of them squeezes out, "Rank 1 Priesthood of Mutation."
The pressure disappears like a spring breeze.
The totem says, "Bring me the contract."
The totem returns to his sea of consciousness.
Elsewhere, hidden deep in a forest, figures resembling humans but with wings on their backs work at computers inside their void ship.
One of them shouts, "Sir, we’re inside a divine kingdom!"
"Quickly, escape from here!"
They rush to power up the void ship, but before they can flee, a voice echoes, "Why are we not dead?"
The figures freeze as realisation strikes—not only why they still live, but also how they managed to enter a divine kingdom at all.
More importantly, they see the truth.
"This is an Earthly God Kingdom, not a Void God Kingdom," one of them says. "Why is the divinity spread instead of concentrated in one place?"
Earthly God Kingdom: A god transforms an entire plane into their kingdom.
Void God Kingdom: A god opens their kingdom in the void.
"The god must be asleep," another says.
"Send the information back to the company."
"It’s sent," one replies.
"It’ll take at least a couple of centuries for them to receive it. What do we do in the meantime?"
"Let’s check the god’s status."
One by one, they leave the ship.
A Wolf-Orc steps onto the divine battlefield.
Before him stands a Deer-Orc.
And at the Deer-Orc’s feet lies the corpse of an Ox-Orc.
The Wolf-Orc’s pupils contract.
But a crushing pressure slams down on him.
A voice cuts through the air.
He turns back, trembling, grovelling before the Deer-Orc.
“Dream Totem… how about I surrender to you?”
The Deer-Orc’s gaze is cold.
The Wolf-Orc grits his teeth.
“You’re still an intermediate totem. I don’t know how you killed Golden-Eye… but you must have burned through most of your divine energy.”
Flames erupt from his body.
Chains rip out from the void, lashing around him.
He roars, his fire raging higher.
The chains hiss, blistering under the heat.
A red rune brands itself onto the Wolf-Orc’s body.
The flames vanish into it.
An illusion world descends, tearing the Wolf-Orc’s mind apart.
His consciousness shatters into a hundred fragments.
Each fragment is hunted down.
Each fragment is destroyed.
Two top totems lie dead. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel{f}ire.net
Merin sweeps through the region like a storm.
Intermediate and small totems fall beneath his hand.
The divine clone withdraws, returning to his sea of consciousness.
Forty-five years have passed since the day he first grasped the Law of Formation, pushing it to the rank of intermediate totem.
From there, he forged his own runes—mastering the Law of Runes to the same rank.
Then came the Law of the World.
And finally… the Law of Dream—tempered and honed to the peak of intermediate totem, a single breath away from breaking into the rank of Top Totem.
Now, the moment has come.
He unleashes his comprehension of the Law of Dream for all the world to witness.
His consciousness stretches upward, piercing through layers of existence until it touches the origin of the world.
Divine energy floods through him, reshaping and refining his being.
His clone’s body strengthens, the transformation allowing it to step freely beyond its previous limits.
The promotion completes—he is now a Top Totem.
And with that, the true reason for the massacre becomes clear next.
From his totem, divine energy pours outward, racing into the bodies of all subordinate totems scattered across the region.
In response, vast and intricate formations ignite in the earth, interlocking into a single colossal design.
The land itself begins to change.
Divine energy seeps deep into the soil, stone, and rivers—transforming the entire region into a divine land.
When the transformation ends, an energy barrier rises like an invisible wall around the borders.
No superior totem could kill him now—not unless he steps beyond his own domain.
This is how he advances to Great Totem—not through the slow grinding path of laws, but through the raw power of population.
And when the day comes to reach Superior Totem, it will not be through numbers.
It will be through mastery of the law.
But for now… There is work to be done.
His meteoric rise has left the region scattered with countless orc-races, drawn in and used to fuel his ascension.
If they are to serve his purpose until his laws advance to the rank of Great Totem, they must be kept in check.
Till the day comes… he will no longer need them.