We spent the night in the village, though the information obtained was scarce. We knew the cultists were preparing something big and that they required massive sacrifices, but that was nothing new. What we did discover, however, was the nature of our hosts.
These jaguar people had no material riches to offer us, but their hospitality was absolute. Once they accepted that we were allies, they regaled us with their finest raw meats. I still think they are more adorable than anything else; even when they try to be serious, their high-pitched voices and constant purring strip away any air of ferocity.
Upon leaving the main tent, we saw the village plunged into an organized chaos. They were packing what little they possessed, preparing to migrate once again. As they had said, time was running out for this world, and they didn't want to remain in the cultists' crosshairs. So, once more, they were leaving everything behind.
According to their oral records, this would be the fourth time in their history that they abandoned everything to flee. It was clear then why they were on the brink of extinction. Even without the pressure of natural selection, this people had never had the chance to settle and develop. That is why their culture appeared even more primitive than that of the outside world.
I could feel sparks of magic in some of them—a latent potential that, with the right training, could have blossomed into its own magical system, but destiny never gave them the necessary time.
Seeing the families supporting one another, with that pitiful perseverance on their feline faces, Hannah gave me a pleading look. She didn't need to say anything; her eyes screamed that she wanted to save them. I rolled my eyes—not because it bothered me to help them, but because Hannah's benevolence was as predictable as it was charming.
"Chief Jhic's, I believe I know a place where you could settle in total safety," I said to the elder, who barely reached my waist. "A prosperous land, without enemies, and within a protected environment."
"The Great Red knows such a place? Our people seek paradise, but only find shadows. Great Red tell us where it be?" he asked with his strange cadence of squeaks and purrs.
"Yes, Chief Jhic's. That land is under my command. I am its lord, and its inhabitants are my people. I would be delighted to receive you if you so wish," I affirmed with authority. "There are no external dangers. There is even a great sleeping god remaining in that place—the same one whose call you felt within me."
"Your land?! Great God still live?! Safe land?!" The elder began to jump in place, seized by an almost childlike hyperactivity shared by those surrounding us.
"Calm down, Chief Jhic's," Hannah intervened, stepping closer to prevent the jaguar elder from hurting himself in his frenzy. "He tells the truth. I have been there, and it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen."
"If you like, I can show you the place right now. You all can decide if you accept my offer," I suggested.
"Yes, yes! Investigate!" the chief shrieked before running off to gather his scouts.
At times, their racial traits made them act like overexcited puppies.
He soon returned with an inspection party. They tried to maintain a facade of caution and distance, but it was impossible for them; this species is trusting by nature. Once they decide you are a friend, they give themselves over with a loyalty rarely seen in the cruel outside reality. I saw only a few in the village who showed a natural, cautious cunning, but they were exceptions. That blind trust was their greatest survival flaw, but also what made them ideal companions: they were incapable of betrayal.
I led them toward the [Fief], and to say their expressions were ones of wonder would be an understatement.
At first, when they were transported away from their home to an unknown place, they tensed immediately. They formed a small circle, back to back, with their rudimentary spears raised. Their tails bristled and their ears were alert, but bit by bit… the tension began to dissipate.
In the Fief, there were no predators, only an absolute calm bordering on the surreal. The landscape was alive, populated by a varied but peaceful fauna. Deer, birds, small rodents—but no great hunters. I didn't usually allow them in that part of the Fief.
Green forests stretched to the horizon. Rivers sparkled in the distance. Mountains crowned the landscape. The few constructions they encountered, such as the magical farms, were wonders they had never imagined; their eyes jumped from the structures to me, the lord and master of that Eden.
The climate was stable, very different from the rigor of their jungle, but they adapted instantly when, with a simple gesture of mental configuration, I adjusted the ecosystem of a region to mimic the humid heat of their home. That demonstration of absolute control over nature was the final trigger: they collapsed to their knees, prostrating themselves before me while trembling—no longer from pure terror, but from an electric veneration.
"Great God!" they cried in unison.
For them, seeing a land so safe and witnessing that I molded it to my whim could only mean one thing: they were standing before one of the deities of their legends. That belief was etched in stone when Elise appeared. Although it was only an avatar, her divine aura was so dense that the jaguars seemed to have lost their souls. Some began to cry; others remained motionless, their gaze lost in absolute fascination.
Seeing that being of light kiss me and show affection toward me, confirming our bond, left no doubt for those jaguars. Even if I tried to explain otherwise, to these small individuals, I was a God, my wife was a Goddess, and I was opening the gates of my divine kingdom—paradise—to them. In essence, they weren't that far from the truth.
...
We returned to the village in the outside world, where Chief Jhic's didn't waste a second and roared with his high-pitched voice:
"Everyone! Worship the Great Red God!" He bowed until he touched the ground, followed by the scouts who had accompanied us.
The rest of the tribe, though confused, didn't take a heartbeat to follow the example. They are a race so united that even the smallest cubs, without understanding what was happening, prostrated themselves in the mud to worship me.
"There's no need for such theater. Prepare to depart for the Fief immediately; I don't know how much time we have left," I said, fixing my gaze on the horizon.
They weren't lying about the destruction of this space. I could feel a rhythmic pulse, an agonizing heartbeat that traveled through the realm every so often, draining vital energy toward a focal point: the cultists' temple.
"Does anyone know the location of the cultists' temple? I need to go there and stop them," I asked the chief.
With their help, I could save time. Although I could track the energy flow, doing so would take more effort.
But my request frightened them. The fear of the cultists was deeply rooted. They had lost members facing them. They didn't want anything to happen to me… although, ironically, they now saw me as a god.
However, after a few moments of hesitation—and perhaps driven by that new faith—they agreed to guide me. More than that, the chief made a call. Soon, all the "warriors" of the tribe gathered with their best weapons. Polished spears, stone knives, rudimentary armor. They said goodbye to their families with determined looks. Looks that said: we are willing to die for this.
It was funny... adorable... and slightly depressing. Because, realistically, they probably wouldn't last even a few minutes in a real confrontation against the cultists, and their help would be minimal. Still, their intention was sincere and their loyalty unshakeable.
I declined their generous, though useless, offer of help. I didn't want them to die for nothing, so I ordered them all to take refuge in the Fief, requesting only one scout to serve as our guide. Although they were reluctant, wishing to protect their "Savior"—the one opening the gates to the Promised Land—they ended up obeying my word as law.
Soon, the village was deserted. Only Hannah, the fastest scout, and I began the march. We ran for hours; the feline knew shortcuts impossible for us to distinguish: paths hidden between roots, safe steps through unstable areas of the terrain, detours that avoided magical anomalies. We moved much faster than we would have on our own.
Finally, we arrived.
"Here it be!" shrieked the small jaguar. "Not know how to pass, but try to break if Great God want."
He was about to throw himself headlong against the invisible wall in an act of blind faith.
"It's alright, we can handle it from here. Rejoin your people," I stopped him. His enthusiasm was admirable, but unnecessary.
"Thank you for bringing us," Hannah murmured, unable to resist rubbing the guide's furry head before he disappeared into the safety of the [Fief].
I was left alone with her. I could feel the suction: this place was devouring the realm's vital energy with a frenetic voracity. Whatever was happening on the other side was immense.
"Are you ready?" I asked her. "There could be a war or something worse on the other side."
"I'm ready if you are," she responded nervously, but with a renewed confidence. She patted the pouches at her waist and gripped her wand firmly.
I took her hand and forced the entrance. The ripples in the air became visible under my will, and we stepped through the veil.
...
What we saw on the other side took our breath away. It wasn't a simple clearing in the forest, but a massive portion of open jungle. In the center, a colossal structure of aged stone rose toward the sky: an ancient temple, as vast as Castelobruxo, surrounded by totems and rudimentary effigies. A hundred mages in dark robes moved in circles, chanting and performing ritual dances that made the earth vibrate.
"What do you say? Shall we watch for a bit or crash the party right now?" I asked playfully. There were a hundred enemies in sight, but I didn't feel the slightest pressure.
Hannah hesitated. The spectacle was Dantesque. It wasn't just dances; the rituals included sacrifices, and this was a massacre.
Many lifeless bodies already lay to one side; on the other, rows of prisoners brought from the outside—probably Muggles captured with immense logistical effort—awaited their turn to have their throats slit over the altars. Screams of plea and the crying of children filled the air. If Hannah hadn't hardened after years by my side, she would have collapsed right there; even so, she had to look away when she saw the infants in the sacrifice line.
"None of this is real… right?" she asked with a tense voice, wishing it weren't real; it was too unacceptable. "When we go back, it will all disappear, like you said."
"More or less," I replied calmly. "It will reset when we leave. It will be as if we were never here. Although… this really occurred in our world, in the past." I responded calmly, "Do you want us to interrupt them and save them?"
"I don't know... you choose. I don't want to ruin your mission." Her conflict was evident. She struggled with her duty as my wife and wanted to support me… but she also couldn't ignore what she was seeing. "But... I don't want them to suffer anymore," she admitted at last.
"We can wait and study the ground. I'm curious about what they're doing," I said sincerely.
"And those people?" Her voice trembled.
"I can mitigate their pain from here. I won't stop them from dying right now, but I'll spare them the agony. Is that enough to keep you at ease, or shall we go down and kill them all?" (Red)
Hannah nodded, accepting the deal. I began to work. Eliminating the pain of the sacrifices wasn't difficult; doing it without the cultists noticing my interference required a finer touch, but my methods were more than sufficient.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The screams of anguish, the cries of babies, and the pleas were extinguished into a deathly silence. The sacrifices continued to happen, but the victims died with serene faces, void of agony. This infuriated the higher echelons of the cult; apparently, the ritual benefited from the suffering. The priests, frantic, tried to torture the prisoners, casting spells to intensify the pain or break my interference, but they achieved nothing. They had to proceed with the ritual, cursing under their breath with an "offering" that was now less effective.