"Pomelo, four dollars a kilo—"
Ryan cut himself off and cursed. "Damn it. Why didn't I test the loudspeaker earlier?"
He raised the cheap device, his voice booming unnaturally loud into the silent night.
"Listen well, people of the cave! You are surrounded—by me alone! Put down your weapons and surrender immediately!"
His words echoed across the clearing, carried by the speaker in a distorted metallic bellow.
Under the twin moons, Ryan could make out dozens of hulking figures at the cave entrance. The tribesmen. Bare skin gleamed under the pale light, stone weapons clutched in their fists. Unlike Ryan, they didn't need technology to see in the dark. Their eyes caught the faintest light with predatory ease.
A guttural roar rose from their throats, carrying deep into the forest. Elders shuffled forward, murmuring words Ryan couldn't understand. A moment later, the young warriors surged from the cave, bare feet pounding the ground as they charged.
Ryan's lips curved into a grin. He lifted his left hand and pressed a switch.
The forest erupted in white.
High-powered searchlights, rigged to car batteries, blazed like miniature suns. The warriors screamed, clutching their faces. Night-adapted eyes recoiled violently against the sudden brilliance; some stumbled, crashing into each other, falling bloody against the rocks.
Ryan chuckled, watching them falter. "What's the matter? Not so scary now, are you? Every dog has its day."
The light painted him in stark brilliance. To the tribe, his silhouette seemed less man than apparition—an otherworldly being cloaked in radiance.
But hesitation didn't last forever. Gritting through the pain, the warriors steadied themselves. Fear warred with fury in their eyes as they began to creep forward again.
Ryan took a single step toward them, loudspeaker still crackling.
"Come on then!" His voice thundered. "Didn't you want to smash me to pieces? Kill me now—if you dare!"
The taunt pushed them to the brink, but it was the fire that broke them.
Ryan flicked his lighter. A tiny flame danced in the dark, reflected in the wide eyes of the tribesmen. Their roars wavered.
Then—
Fzzzt…
The first fuse hissed.
BOOM!
The ground shook as firecrackers detonated in a blinding burst. Flames and smoke engulfed the front ranks. A deafening chain of explosions followed, echoing like rolling thunder. Ten thousand firecrackers spat sparks and noise in a relentless wave, whipping and twisting like serpents of fire.
Warriors who had faced beasts with stone spears now screamed in blind panic, scattering as the night became a storm of fire and sound.
From the cliffs above, women and elders watched in horror as their defenders fell into chaos. To them, it looked as though their young strength—their lifeline—was being devoured by a wrathful god.
And Ryan wasn't done.
The fireworks came next. Flares streaked into the sky, bursting into showers of sparks before raining down onto the clearing. Shells exploded with sharp cracks, scattering burning fragments onto bare skin. Tribesmen howled as fire licked at them, fleeing in terror.
The clearing dissolved into pandemonium—roars, screams, smoke, light. And at the center of it all stood Ryan Walker, unmoving, calm, haloed by the blaze.
He exhaled slowly, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. Worth every cent.
"The art of explosions," he murmured with a grin. "Magnificent."
As the smoke thinned and the last echoes of firecrackers faded, the scene shifted. Warriors who minutes ago had charged with murder in their eyes now cowered, trembling. None dared lift a weapon.
An elder, hair white and body trembling, staggered forward. His voice cracked as he spoke—words Ryan suddenly understood.
"Oh, great god… forgive our ignorance!"
The old man fell to his knees, bowing low, forehead pressed to the dirt.
One by one, the rest followed. Warriors, women, children—every primitive soul dropped to the ground, prostrating themselves before the figure blazing in the light.
Ryan froze. His eyes widened. He hadn't expected this.
"Wait… what the hell?" He whispered, stunned. "Why can I understand them now? Did I just… become their god?"
He looked at the kneeling tribe, his heart pounding in disbelief.
"This… this is happening too fast."
But the sight was undeniable.
The primitive tribe had crowned him as a god.
"I've… become a god?"
Ryan Walker stood in a daze, his thoughts spiraling.
It wasn't as if he had never daydreamed about stepping into another world—cultivation manuals in hand, rising to power by exploiting the gap between worlds. But this… this was beyond even his wildest imagination.
He hadn't climbed some heavenly ladder, nor trained through countless tribulations. No—he had been named a god. In one step, he had ascended to the title of Lord of the Stars.
Ryan felt as though he were in a dream too absurd to believe.
"…This can't be real."
The voices of the kneeling tribesmen pulled him back to the present.
"Oh Great Lord of the Stars, forgive our ignorance!" they cried, trembling before the dazzling afterglow of fireworks and searchlights.
Ryan's heart skipped, but he forced a calm expression. Slowly, he nodded, his voice deepening into something authoritative.
"I forgive you. From this day forth, are you not my believers?"
The tribespeople did not hesitate. Their foreheads pressed to the earth as one.
"From this day, our entire tribe belongs to the Lord of the Stars. We are your most devout believers!"
Ryan's gaze fell on the tribe's elder, the white-bearded man who had been first to kneel. The elder's voice shook as he explained:
"It was your great power that revealed you to us. You came with light brighter than the sun. Your voice shook the night like thunder. Fire obeys your hand, and dragons of flame roar at your command. And above, the stars themselves shine as your judgment."
Ryan blinked. Searchlights. Loudspeakers. Firecrackers. Fireworks… that's all it was.
But to these people—isolated, primal—those mundane tools had been miracles.
And more than that, Ryan felt something stir within him. A presence. A current of power flowing not from himself, but from the belief of these kneeling souls.
Faith… it's faith that makes a god.
In novels, it always sounded grand and distant. Here, it was frighteningly simple. By displaying power before a tribe of a few hundred, he had become their god.
Ryan's heart raced. If a few hundred could awaken this power… what about thousands? Tens of thousands? Whole nations?
He looked at the tribe again, no longer as frightened savages, but as treasures of unimaginable worth.
Composing himself, he softened his expression. His voice lowered into a warm, almost paternal tone:
"Rise. You have pleased me. From this day, I will protect you. You will live beneath the glory of the Lord of the Stars."
The people lifted their heads timidly, eyes filled with awe. Yet Ryan frowned inwardly. Awe was good—but fear alone built only distance. A god too far from his believers was a god forgotten.
He needed something more.
Then he noticed a child, thin and frail, hiding behind an adult. The boy peeked out, trembling.
Ryan's lips curved. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop.
"You," he beckoned softly. "Come."
The boy recoiled, eyes wide. But an adult shoved him forward, desperate to please their god. Step by hesitant step, the child approached. He looked as though he were being led to execution.
Ryan sighed, walked forward, and crouched before him. He ruffled the boy's hair gently, then unwrapped the candy and placed it in his mouth.
"Lollipop," Ryan said, smiling.
The boy flinched at first, but then his eyes widened as the sweet taste spread across his tongue. His trembling stopped, replaced with wonder.
"Lollipop…" Ryan repeated patiently.
The boy was too overwhelmed to respond, but from the crowd, a childish voice suddenly piped up:
"Bombom candy!"
The words startled Ryan. He shot to his feet, scanning the crowd. "Who said that?!"
The tribespeople scattered immediately, revealing a mother and daughter. The mother clamped her hand over her child's mouth, trembling in fear.
The girl, no older than seven, wriggled free and looked up at Ryan with wide eyes.
Ryan knelt, smiling as he tore open his last lollipop. "Here. Lollipop."
The girl accepted it without hesitation, giggling as she repeated, "Lollipop!"
Ryan laughed. In her innocence, she had bridged a gap no ritual could. Her clear voice and delighted smile spread warmth through the crowd. Fear softened into curiosity. Awe shifted into something like trust.
For the first time, the tribe looked at Ryan not just as a distant, terrifying god, but as a presence both mighty and kind.
Satisfied, Ryan pointed to their cave. His tone grew firm again.
"Go inside. The night belongs to beasts. Under the stars, you are safe."
He strode forward, entering the cave as the people followed.
And as he did, faint starlight shimmered across his body—a mantle of divine radiance born of faith itself.
The Lord of the Stars had taken his first true step as a god.