I've often dreamed of a far off place. Where magic is common, where dragons fly and all arguments are settled at the point of a blade.
Where dangerous creatures, both fair and foul, roam the lands, seas, and skies.
Maidens fair and Knights in stern aspect, roam the lands in search of many things, redemption, recognition, adoration and many more.
I thought that place a mere dreamscape and lived my life as I usually did, hitting the gym, hanging out with friends, flirting with the girls and occasionally taking one or two home.
I played video games, read light novels, but I had a steady job with work on the side that was a result of my unofficial time in the service.
Just a typical guy, for the most part, but that's about it. Not the tallest guy, but fairly cut and make plenty of heads turn my way, dark blonde hair and storm-grey eyes set in a face with a chiseled jaw.
Day to day I'd live my life, do my job, hang out with friends and have fun.
At night when I slept, if I slept at all due to having company, binging or in general just fucking around and forgetting the time, I would dream.
Dreams of war-torn battlefields covered in the bodies of the fallen lying amidst broken weapons, of forging those same weapons or crafting majestic pieces of art.
Other times I would dream of a simple life with a shadowy figure by my side, as a farmer, a merchant or low class noble. There would be shadowy figures of children there occasionally, but sometimes not.
These dreams often happened and then passed from my memory like smoke on the wind, but still remnants of them stuck with me.
I know not where they come from, but I did not let that affect my life, a life filled with physical pain that I did not let keep a smile from my face and a bad joke for those around me.
The pain of hunger though I had money to buy food because I could buy and eat ridiculous amounts of food, because I could eat and eat yet never feel full. Not an all consuming hunger, but a hunger nonetheless.
A hunger that actually leads to the beginning of my tale funnily enough, strange though that may seem.
As I approached my mid-twenties the hunger got stronger and stronger even though I ate so much food and spent money like it was water.
One night I fell asleep and woke I a place that was not my room covered in memorabilia from different eras of warfare, flags and knick-knacks.
The place I woke in seemed to be a somewhat small, maybe about 9 meters or 10 yards in width and a length of 15 meters or bit more than 16 yards in length, with carved stone frescoes and wood paneling tastefully done, almost Renaissance in style but with a heavier more militaristic flavor.
A few simple leather couches that looked like you would sink into them, simple looking but would have a price tag in the thousands due to stitching and materials used in the construction.
Overall with the lighting giving the room a subdued but open feeling you could tell that owner liked things simple, but a simple that was complex in statement yet easily understood.
As I looked around and went through my thoughts, at last I came to the desk in point of place near the back of the room only for the empty chair behind it to suddenly fill with light that almost blinded me for a second.
I quickly turned my head and stepped to the side while going on guard ready to respond with force, though it may not do me any good, I would not go down without a fight. No matter what this being may be.
As this went through my head, I heard a laugh, not a tinkly titter, but a deep throated laugh followed by a voice that had shouted on the battlefield but nonetheless would make men think thoughts they should not. Husky, yet sultry with velvet tones, the kind of voice that gets men to do things with a smile on their face saying
"Well then, a warrior-poet, one who has faced danger and death, yet lived to tell the tale! That strength does not keep you from being versed in the finer things and having a silver tongue, that I am sure has tasted many fine vintages!"
As she laughed once more I turned my face towards the desk and there stood a woman, not a dainty tiny thing covered in frills, but a woman versed in blood and blade yet all the more noble for it.
With brunette hair in a braid down her back, a scar cutting across her left cheek that started at the corner of her eye and angled back down to her jaw, standing maybe 5'8" or about 172 cm tall.
She had barely any softness to her and a chest that was present, but was not of excessive size. Last but not least were her eyes, not demure but bold of deep sea blue.
With a lamellar breastplate of good steel, pauldrons that were functional and could turn an ill aimed blade, gauntlets of fine make that would allow nimble movements of the fingers, chausses of good solid chain, cuisses to cover the upper leg and calf high sabatons, and sword sheathed upon her left hip she was a warrior through and through.
This was not the armor that we called bikini armor, no, this was the armor of someone who truly fought upon the battlefield. She was not a display piece covered in skimpy armor to show off, but someone who could and would kill you in true battle.
A woman, a warrior that I would be proud to fight beside.
As I met her eyes she smiled and said
"You do not look at me with disdain in your eyes, you look at me with respect, respect for being a soldier who has fought and bled. You do not think I belong in the kitchen tending children, you see and understand that I am warrior, one the equal of any male.
You would fight and bleed beside me, not to gain my heart, but to be a comrade in arms.
You are strange, very strange.
You would bed me if you could, but you would rather begin as comrades in arms, have us gain an understanding of one another and go from there.
Truly you are strange one, there is lust but there is more respect in your heart than lust, bound by a moral code that does not falter in the face of beauty. You hold true to the code that you have set forth for yourself.
While you are not a knight of your world, your oath while simple, echoes of chivalry.
Defend the helpless
Succor the weak
Do no wrong
Be brave in the face of your enemies
And be upright that the gods may love thee."
She paused and looked at me as I gazed back maintaining an even look into her eyes.
She shook her head, I know not why and said
"I am Lyra, The Goddess of War and Orphans. I preside over the passing of all soldiers, both those that die in my domain, and the soldiers that have died elsewhere and through chance have gained the ability to be reborn in this world. I am also responsible for the orphans that have no one to care for them, whether that is due to famine, war, sickness, if for any reason a child is orphaned, then they have my protection."
Pausing there, she walked out from behind her desk and as she stood in front of me, she gave me a salute, as she did this she continued.
"You were a soldier in your world, skilled in many weapons and served your country faithfully, though many will never know of the actions you took to safeguard them."
She then stepped back dropping the salute and rested against the desk with her left hand resting upon her sword.
Unfortunately you passed in your sleep, though that is because you were born with an extremely high affinity for mana, an affinity that would put some demigods to shame.
That affinity is what caused your hunger to be what it was. Your body was starved for mana and could somewhat be supplied with food, but the mana in your world was nearly none-existant, your body absorbed so much mana that it actually affected the weather causing a slow drought in your area. That is why you died, you reached a point that you were going to ascend to the next level, basically low tier divinity but the mana couldn't support and so you died.
That is also why you were brought here to Vahlor, you weren't supposed to be born on Earth with an affinity for mana that high, yet you were and the gods of your world recognized their mistake too late. So when you died they contacted me and that is what led to you standing before me."
As I listened to her, I understood that there was no going back and was glad to know why I was constantly hungry. I looked at and opened my mouth to speak and she knew responded before I could.
"You technically are considered a low tier deity, but have no power of faith, so my only options are let you loose upon the world with no understanding of how strong you actually are or put a limiter on your power and allow you, as your gamer term puts it, to level up.
As you level up you will unlock more and more of your power, which will allow you move around more and do more things, the limiter will actually make you much stronger per level than you would think. At the lower levels you will be able to fight against those twice your level, at the mid-tier levels you will be able fight across half again your levels, and at the high tier at most 15 to 20 levels higher.
Keep in mind that as a low tier deity your base level is over two thousand, demigod's levels start at 1000, every level before that is the mortal levels. True high tier doesn't start until level 9000, the lowest possible level for an upper deity. Beyond that is beginning end-game with differing levels of divinity and true end-game is when you step up to primordial.
We won't go into that just yet, all you need to know is that I'm one of the strongest, if not the strongest primordial out there."
She stood up and and gave me a jaunty salute and said
"Any questions?"
I returned the salute full formal, heels together, back straight, left hand straight down my side and my right hand at a perfect 45 degree and from my right eye.
"None at this time."
She laughed
"Very well, carry on then!"
And my vision went black.