While Orsaga was busy contemplating how to expand his influence in the future, a strange, melodic voice suddenly echoed in his ears.
It was a gentle, almost chant-like language—soft in tone and drawn out in rhythm.
Although Orsaga had never heard it before, his innate demonic linguistics as an Abyssal Demon, combined with the universal language comprehension granted by his status as a Chaos God, allowed him to understand it instantly.
The message was simple: pure adoration and praise.
This piqued his curiosity.
Following the trail of this prayer, Orsaga's perception stretched across space and time until it locked onto a specific inhabitant of a distant planet.
The being resembled a human in shape and features, but was taller, more slender, and bore long, elegant ears—a member of an unfamiliar, elfin-like race.
At that moment, the individual was fervently exclaiming:
"Oh noble God of Dance, grant me the most dazzling technique in battle…"
Hearing this…
Orsaga froze for a moment, stunned. If it weren't for how clear the message had been, he would've assumed he'd misheard it.
Brow furrowed, he scratched his head in confusion:
"God of Dance? What the hell is that? I haven't even started preaching yet… Did they pray to the wrong guy?"
He had to admit, this was a first.
Out of curiosity, Orsaga stealthily projected his will into the mortal's mind to investigate further.
Before long, he found the answer.
The one praying was a member of the Aeldari, a long-lived race known for their refined talents and deep love of the arts.
Basically, they were a kind of re-skinned elf.
Same template—different packaging.
Honestly, if someone introduced them to Golariel and said they were distant cousins, she'd probably believe it.
Digging deeper into the mortal's memories, Orsaga uncovered the real reason behind this bizarre worship.
It was a scene:
A male Aeldari was passionately recounting a story to an audience, describing something he had personally witnessed.
Within the perilous depths of the Warp, two mighty entities had engaged in a titanic battle. One of them wielded unimaginable destructive force—every strike was like a rift tearing through reality, painful to witness even from afar, as if one's very soul were being shredded.
But the other entity...
That one moved with flawless, balletic grace!
Every attack was dodged by the narrowest margins, not through brute force, but with breathtaking elegance.
He danced around his opponent—effortlessly, mockingly.
And the whole time, his movements remained perfectly in sync with some unseen rhythm—never once missing a beat.
To the Aeldari, whose cultural DNA practically was art, it was a dream made manifest.
While recounting this moment, the Aeldari storyteller's expression could only be described as fanatical reverence.
Every word he used was an over-the-top tribute, overflowing with admiration.
Every sentence was a poetic exaggeration, drenched in flowery praise.
Those around him listened with rapt attention, their faces lit with awe and longing, exclaiming in wonder at every dramatic twist in the tale.
…
Orsaga pulled his consciousness back and just stood there silently.
He really didn't know what to say.
They weren't wrong. The so-called "God of Dance" they were worshiping... was indeed him.
And that… was kind of a problem.
Wasn't he supposed to be a terrifying Chaos God?
How had his name somehow been spread as the God of Dance?!
What about his image?!
Still, faith is faith—and if someone was offering up belief, Orsaga wasn't going to say no.
So with a wave of his hand, he stuffed over a hundred different dance techniques directly into the mind of that Aeldari worshipper.
Having done so, he stood up from his throne, pacing around the great hall in frustration.
"…No, no… this title is way too lame... 'God of Dance'? That won't do at all..."
Yes. That was his primary concern.
Meanwhile, the Aeldari who'd just received the divine dance knowledge started convulsing like he was having a seizure.
But after a few agonizing seconds, his expression shifted from unbearable pain… to euphoric joy.
To the Aeldari, this sudden infusion of divine technique was nothing short of a sacred treasure.
He trembled with gratitude, tears streaming down his cheeks as he prayed:
"Exalted God of Dance, thank you for your magnificent gift of art. I shall spread your teachings to my people, so all may know your greatness…"
Upon hearing that, Orsaga's eyes lit up—figuratively and literally.
A metaphorical light bulb appeared above his head.
He had an idea!
"Art."
Yes, that was a far better title.
At the very least, "God of Art" sounded far more dignified than "God of Dance."
And to be fair—not to boast—he actually was well-versed in many forms of art.
Without delay, Orsaga's will once again crossed the boundary of space and reconnected with the Aeldari devotee.
A few moments later, the mortal's expression went through a rapid transformation:
Confusion → Shock → Delight → Ecstatic Frenzy
His mind had just been stuffed with knowledge covering every artform imaginable:
Realistic painting, abstract painting, stone sculpture, plant carving, landscape gardening…
Everything.
He fell to his knees, trembling as he prayed:
"You are not only the God of Dance, You are the God of All Art! Truly, you are magnificent beyond comprehension…"
Tears ran down his face as he spoke, utterly overwhelmed.
Right then and there, he became Orsaga's most devoted fanboy, shouting with fiery zeal:
"Great God of Art! Your wisdom and generosity must be known to all!"
What followed was a shameless barrage of bootlicking flattery—lavish praise pouring out nonstop.
Orsaga, watching it all unfold, showed a rare satisfied smile.
"Mission accomplished."
He gave a small, approving nod.
Upgrading from "God of Dance" to "God of Art" had made him feel instantly more refined, more majestic, more worthy of worship.
As for whether this approach might cause any problems?
Orsaga couldn't care less.
As someone with near-total authority in this universe, he had no reason to hold back.
Just go for it.
And so, it didn't take long for a brand-new religion to emerge among the Aeldari.
The name "God of Art" quickly spread throughout their civilization.
Their native deities were… understandably bewildered.
One of them—nicknamed by outsiders as "Khaine the Mini-Khorne," formally known as the War God of the Aeldari: Khaine the Bloody-Handed—stood clad in ornate bronze armor and publicly sneered:
"This so-called 'God of Art' must be some pathetic weakling."
That same day, shrieks of terror rang out from within Khaine's divine domain.
The next morning...
The War God limped into public view with one leg broken and his exquisite bronze armor reduced to just a few dented scraps still clinging to his body.
In front of everyone, he "clarified" his previous remarks:
"The God of Art is incredibly powerful!
Strong! Valiant! Brimming with divine vitality!
I fully support His worship among the Aeldari people!"
_____
T/N:
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