Novel & Cerita Drunk God

What started with a duel ended up being the worst revolution in history by a god, and I was all to blame. There weren't anymore tears to cry as I thought about everything, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Dhruv, still fully naked, arrogantly sat on a couch next to the wine cellar. There was a victorious smirk on his face as he sipped on a glass of red wine. The wine was thick, leaving traces on his lips. I wouldn't have been surprised if what he was drinking was actually blood, and not wine.

Goldie walks over to Katcha and grabs her by the arm. “Wait, no!” She panics and tugs on his hand to get him to let go. “What did you just do?!” Darryl also exclaims in a panic as he rushes to block the door. His knees shook from witnessing the phenomena from earlier, yet he is determined to look Goldie in the eyes. There is a golden glint within his irises, and they seemed to flicker and grow similarly compared to a fire. It grows more, and more, until all he could see is a whole room burning down. Like tinnitus, he could hear distant screaming that increased in volume. They’re crying and cursing out a name he can’t quite decipher. In the room, he is the only one who remains. The walls quic

“I... -” "You don’t deserve to be called a god! You don’t deserve anything!” As he continues to repeat my words, his voice becomes stronger, laced with his unexpressed emotions. It’s shaking me up from inside. The words that I used once to question him are hurting me more now. “I was drunk, Arle-” “But are you now?” He asks sternly. All the emotions are gone. He resembles a breathing statue. “No, but-”

The regrets surged. I didn't flinch. --- When I opened my eyes, the sun was setting. Hours had passed. I was still standing. My face was wet with tears I didn't remember crying. My throat was raw. But I was still standing. Fenra watched me from the edge of the circle. Her three eyes were unreadable. "You didn't break." "I almost did." "Almost is not broken." She stepped into the circle and placed a hand on my shoulder. "You're ready. As ready as anyone can be to face a seven-hundred-year-old Null who wants to become a god."

"Reveal to me the path to final mastery." The air trembles. The candles flare wildly and then the shadows part. A vision unfolds before me; a monstrous creature, terrible and eternal, bound beneath the surface of the world, buried for centuries. It writhed in its slumber, murmuring for release. A smile spread across my face. If I free it, if I became its vessel… I would no longer be an ordinary wolf. I would be a god. I rise from the altar, my heart racing in my chest. The whispers had grown louder, a chorus of voices promising me anything.

It must have been the gods' will. Darryl entered the main altar, and after a few minutes of walking, arrived at a duty room, where he heard a voice ordering some wine. "We can finally drink now that the special envoy from the Godly Region is not here tonight!" "That's enough nonsense out of you. You lost just now, so you need to drink three glasses of wine!" "Pah! Three glasses are nothing!" Through the window, Darryl saw several Heavenly Alliance elite disciples gathered around a table, egging each other to drink some wine.

But she taps me on the butt and sends me out the door. Stepping out of the back door I inhale deeply trying to rid my senses of his scent. Leaning my back against the cool brick wall of the bar, I light the joint in my hand and take a long drag. “That’s not healthy,” a voice comes from around the corner of the bar. I groan when I see that it is my Dark God, sauntering over to me like he already owns me. Coughing a little, I sputter on my words. “Do you want a drag?” I offer holding it out for him. He holds is hands up in refusal. “Suit yourself,” I say as I take another hit.

A glass of liquor appeared in front of me, and turning to look at the body connected to the hand, my lips, on their own accord, began to stretch into a smile. "So..." he arched a brow. "You a party pooper, aren't you?" I didn't know I needed a drink until it appeared before me. I could call Rune Godsent if he weren't so wasted that he looked like he fell from hell. There was every possibility. "Thanks, Rune." I collected the glass and immediately gulped down half its contents. He nodded his approval, "Do I smell a disciple?" I almost choked on my drink, "Of course not," then chuckled, "But there's every possibility."

I’d have cracked in five seconds with that in my mouth. “I don’t know,” he said. “The Golden God is unknown to me.” “What about your god? What’s he like?” The druid looked confused. “Which of the old gods are you referring to?” “The one who looks like a green brain,” I said. The druid scowled. “He isn’t a god, he is our leader. He is Xesar.” “Okay, but is he a nice guy?” I asked. “He isn’t nice. He is great!”

I ask, letting concern override my voice. He shakes his head. “Don’t ask me that. Don’t you dare fuckin ask me that. Bring back my Jasmine” Great. We’re onto this again. This has been his entire word since I got discharged from the hospital. Bring back Jasmine.? Jasmine’s dead. His drinking has become more frequent, more excessive as if he's trying to drown the memories I've pretended to forget. The Hades I knew would never succumb to such weakness, but this version, this drunk, stumbling shell of a god, is a stranger to me.