If I Were A Creator

"Wow, you're all more spineless than I expected." The creator remarked. Fourteen gods prostrated before her, crying profusely as they ceaselessly beg to be spared. No matter how arrogant they looked, this scene certainly erased any image of their grandeur.

Five minutes ago, their arrival via lightning was expected by the creator to be some flashy attempt at intimidation. Their faces looked cold and indifferent when they arrived, gazing upon the creator as if she was just an ant in their eyes. She expected an arrogant speech or self righteous accusations, followed by divine bitch slapping on their shitty faces and lightning treatment on their plastic looking a.s.s.

What followed, well, is unexpected but kind of predictable. They began to cry with rivers of tears flowing from their eyes and then prostrating till their heads touched the dry, scorched earth. All of them began shouting, "Spare me, please!", "Let me Live!" Or "Almighty one, we were wrong, give us a second chance!" Or something along these lines.

It brought a smug grin up on my face but it quickly transformed inti indifference because I'm not interested in being worshipped, since I still believe, and because putting up an indifferent look will make them tremble in fear. Fear is a good and reliable weapon as long as you don't overdose your targets with it, because too much fear will force a search of hope or a radical change. Even with absolute creation, one cannot underestimate any foe.

While they grovel and boot lick, quite literally though, I'm thinking of a proper punishment and a way to make the remainder surrender. As much as I want to purify most of the population, I already eliminated the main causes of evil so purifying the minor causes is more of a side mission of sorts. After all, with what I've done, I'm very sure that any more damage might lead to a dark age due to fear.

I plan to use the Church of Destruction to advance Falmart, not create an elite society.

"Hmmmmmm…."

"Aaaah."

A wicked smile grew on my face as I thought of the most humiliating and extremely helpful punishment. With a flick of my wrist, chains of silver bind and gagged all fourteen of them. I conjured a large, blue portal with my mind and my prisoners float in the air before entering the spatial vortex.

Then, fourteen spatial tears emerge above the areas with the largest concentration of believers of a certain God. Upon seeing the gate in the sky, all the believers looked up and cheered praises to their gods, proclaiming their arrival to save them. Prayers were shouted and tears of joy flooded as the survivors believe that their salvation is at hand.

Then, the tears of joys turned into confusion and sadness as the chained and gagged forms of their gods emerge from the portals, looking like a lowly prisoner. Soon, an angel in white shimmered into existence beside each god, carrying a golden trumpet. They had expressions of pity on their faces and a divine grace that exudes from their pure forms.

A booming voice like thunder spoke from the mouth of the angels, "We are the Mashchallim, angels of destruction and beside us are the evil gods, traitors of Falmart." The vast crowds murmured in confusion, some with rage at the accusations while others quick to accept the Mashchallim as the beings of truth. Before anyone could ask or insult the Mashchallim, they spoke in unison once more.

"Their sin is the sin of stagnation, purposely inhibiting the evolution of this world in fear that its inhabitants would surpass them." Even more confusion spread throughout the crows. Stagnating? Fear that we would surpass them? Scientists of this era immediately cheered for the death of their former gods.

They remember how some of them were persecuted for forbidden technology by believers, some were even executed for trying to improve technology by a large margin. In the worst case, they would be labeled demons or heretics and false stories of evil would be spread about them. Seeing something finally condemn them, they felt justice being served before them.

They cheered the angels on and shouted curses and profanities at the chained gods. Earning incredulous looks from others and offended expressions from believers. In the city of Bellnahgo, the Holy city of Hardy, the goddess of the underworld, a wise looking priestess in white robes approached the cheering mass of scientists and the persecuted.

She held a golden staff on one hand and a golden symbol of hardy on the other. A golden crown with underworld motif is perched on her head, announcing her identity as the High Priestess of Hardy. To attract the crowd's attention, she lightly tapped the b.u.t.t of her staff on the paved ground.

Using magic, the sound was amplified and the crowd gathered their attention on her. The High Priestess lightly coughed before speaking, "Mashchallim, I can feel your mysterious but surely divine heritage. I do not know of the sins of my goddess but please let her live, for without her, the souls of Falmart will never find rest."

The angel beside Hardy gracefully levitated to the ground, her blonde hair blown softly by the cool breeze. Her golden slippers touched the ground and a sprout of life spawned, emanating healing energies to the crowd. Wounds healed, scars vanished and age gradually reverses.

The crowd was baffled by this healing wave, some even dropping to the ground, prostrating to the angel. Others knelt and spoke prayers to the unknown god behind her. Most of the crowd was lively, seeing their pains gone and lives extended.

Some exclaimed that not even the gods are capable of such feats. Others sang praises and thanks to the unknown god, forming rushed hymns of gratitude and praise much like the ones sung in the great temples from before the capital's fall. The angel lightly chuckled before gracefully walking towards the high priestess of Hardy.

Then, she kissed the forehead of the priestess before proclaiming with a booming, dual voice, "Do not worry O daughter of man, for the souls will find rest inside the creator's heaven. And you, I can feel the purity of your thoughts and intentions."

"You live to serve O priestess and the creator appreciates the pure hearted. By the grace of the creator, you are now the ruler of souls in this world. Nothing lives or dies without your knowledge and the river of souls is yours to command."

The priestess is then enveloped by a cocoon of light as bright as the radiant sun. As quickly as it appeared, the light vanished into cool gusts of wind that blew softly in a circular motion. Wherever the wind blew, green patches of life grew through the cracks, quickly turning the town square into a park of sorts with grass and flowers growing from between the pavement.

The cocoon gave way to many transformations to the priestess both physically and immaterially. Her white dress was now more ornate, with golden patterns and accessories decorating it. She looked more like a goddess of light than a priestess.

A pair of white, diaphanous wings sprouted from her back, glimmering under the sunlight. Like angel wings, they flapped once and gusts of life giving wind swept through the city like a soft breeze. Life grew wherever enough space is present and the life enriches the beauty of the city and lifts the fog of gloom and sanctity, replacing it will the warmth of life and divine love.

No longer does the city of the underworld goddess inspire fear into the hearts of believers but instead, the merciful light of God can be felt all throughout the city, even in the darkest of spaces within. The high priestess' eyes turned golden and her beauty was magnified greatly, becoming a figure incomparable to any mortal. Her power easily surpassed the goddess she once served, a few attacks would crush her into nothingness.

In the old heavenly abode of the now captured gods, angels commanded golden, shimmering clouds to destroy the realm and rebuild it into an entrance to Heaven. Towering gates of gold and heavenly statues of gods and angels were formed by the clouds. Soon, a choir of angels began singing a hymn of praise.

"All Consuming Fire,

You're our hearts d.e.s.i.r.e,

Living flame of love,

come baptize us

come baptize us."

A flood of souls soared into the heavenly gate, led by beautiful angels who joined the song.

"All consuming fire,

You're our hearts d.e.s.i.r.e,

Come baptize us

Come baptize us"

Purifying flames swept through the souls, ridding them of impurities and the sins of their past. Their evils are forgiven and innocence restored as heaven's holy fire returns them into their true forms, the spirits of heaven. Tens of billions of them entered heaven and a vast ocean of angels greeted them.

Over the course of nearly a billion years, more than 360 billion angels were born from the heavenly light. Most of them are the typical angels, with higher levels of the heavenly hierarchy present. 175 billion angels, 100 billion archangels, 50 billion principalities, 25 four winged powers and billions of angels from the higher orders.

Even specialized angels were present in the heavenly crowd. Hashmallim, angels of music welcomed them with familiar songs of their youth, reminding them of the good old days when trouble seemed so far away. They sang or played their golden instruments which ranged from harmonious harps to the modern tune of electric guitars.

Those of the Hashmallim are blessed with musical talent so great that playing any instrument is so simple that it's instinctual. Also, they are gifted with harmony and beautiful voices, all for singing praises in the choir of the seven heavenly planes. Each soul was carried away by at least a dozen angels to show them the wonders of heaven.

The joy of the spirits surges into the heart of the high priestess. She felt an endless symphony of happiness echoing within her heart, she could feel their happiness as all their troubles and worries are forgotten. She unconsciously cried tears of joys that streamed down her perfected face.

When the teardrop falls to the ground, life sprouts, imbued with magic. Seeing her reaction, the angel smiled and tells her, "Serve the creator well and all souls will find comfort and joy in the heavens. No more pain and torture, as long as one accepts the Lord in one's last days."

"Now, I will guide you to the servants of the Goddess of Destruction, the Lord's devout follower in this world. Her servants will teach you the ways of the divine and bring about a golden age to this world." The angel gazed deeply into her golden eyes and instilled a wealth of knowledge into her mortal mind.

Locations, advice, how to control souls and knowledge from the future up to three and a half centuries, ranging from necessities to theories to weaponry. After a short second of information transfer containing 350 years worth of knowledge and profound control methods, the angel departed into the sky, bringing the imprisoned goddess with her. Then, the heavenly choir's song resounded from the clear blue sky.

"All consuming fire,

You're our hearts d.e.s.i.r.e,

Living flame of love,

Come baptize us

Come baptize us

All consuming fire,

You're our hearts d.e.s.i.r.e,

Living flame of love,

Come baptize us

We wanna know

How high, how deep, how wide is

love, love love

We wanna know

How high, how deep, how wide is

love, love love

We wanna know

How high, how deep, how wide is

love, love love

So let us, fall more, in love with you

Let us, fall more, in love with you

Let us, fall more, in love with you"

When the song ended, white doves descended from the sky and transformed the city. The gray spires and structures of the city were painted pure white with gold accents and decorations. A wisp of bright flame float harmlessly above each and every spire.

The roads are transformed into white concrete clear of any dust or grime and life sprouts on the sidewalk. Where bridges once stood, hard light paths are present. A pair of trees flank each end of the the hard light pathways that arch over the buildings in the lower districts.

Temples transformed into massive, white mini-basilicas with roman and modern church designs melded seamlessly. Statues of hardy or other deities of Falmart are replaced with the statues of angels, the goddess of destruction, Wareharun and Lunaryur. After the doves did their work, they vanished into the upper atmosphere, leaving behind a glimpse of heaven on earth.