The life of a God can oft grow boring. Immortality presents new challenges, such as how to keep oneself entertained over the eons which pass by so slowly. Being limited to our own domains did not help either, though I must admit war was the most exciting of the lot. Death and destruction, the spoils of war, the thrill of battling other beings in bloodthirsty combat; such was I. They had given me many names, the mortals, though most of them would rather not speak any of them save “God of War.” Qüalen some called me, others knew me as Melvor. It mattered not what the called me. So long as they realized my power and so long and was able to enjoy that power, everything was well.

Taking part in mortal wars is against the rules of the Gods. I had my honor, so I obeyed that law. But there was nothing stopping me from sparking warfare within the mortal realms. And wars did I begin, thousands, delighting in every second of seeing them slaughter each other in the fields. The bloodshed fed my craving for violence, a craving that never left me. Every sword swung, every arrow fired, all pleased me greatly. But I was not the only one to gain satisfaction from these conflicts which arose from my tongue.

The God of Death relished in the sheer number of souls that were sent his way thanks to my wars. There were a great number of mortals who found pleasure in the battles I brought about. It gave people jobs, if only for a time, and despite the fact that death was always an immediate threat to them. And I was happy, as any God doing his work would be.

But then they came to stop me. The other Gods and Goddesses ordered me to cease in my creation of warfare, to leave the mortals to conflict naturally. Zelok, Odum, Grumthir and Hevor; Gods of Violence, Betrayal, Murder and Death respectively, were the only three to back me. Thus, unable to face the combined power of the dozen other deities mounted against us, I gave in and agreed to stop planting the seeds of war in mortal realms. Of course, the rest of them could continue on with their normal ways, bringing about good harvests and weather and whatnot. But I was broken, forced to await the outbreak of war rather than make it myself. And the I could but give blessings, which meant a great deal to mortals but was very boring and insignificant to me.

So I waited silently, doing whatever I could when wars arose to entertain myself and be sure my lust for blood was quenched, only to return to an idle state once things were settled. My mind began to twist and turn, and thoughts of rebellion rose, as did strange thoughts of torture, death, and pain. It was during this time that I devised great new weapons of war, and secretly I passed them to mortal followers to use against enemies, for no other purpose than the joy of violence. Technology advanced greatly in that time, and mortals became a far more destructive force. I was pleased, seeing a great opportunity.

Faith is what strengthens Gods. Gives them their power. A God with few followers is weak, a God with many is strong. But what humans do not understand is that you need not even know you worship a God to give it power. The very act of war strengthened me, thoughts of killing you neighbor because he married the woman you loved will add power to the God of Murder. Thus it was that as the 21st Century drew nearer, the power of myself and my allies grew to great proportions as the world swelled with hatred and violence and thoughts of war.

Finally, the opportunity presented itself. It was the year 2007AD by human records when they finally did what I had been awaiting. Purification by fire, nuclear sparks ignited all about the globe, and 5 billion people dead in a matter of hours. The survivors had lost their faith, lost compassion and love, and thought only of survival and pain and hatred, all the thoughts that strengthened us and weakened the Gods that had oppressed me. Thus I walked once again the mortal world, a smile upon my face, to luxuriate in the grand destruction and death. Now we had taken power over the world, and now we could do as we pleased with mankind.

We established realms upon earth, dividing it up. My own lay in what was once called the United States of America, a now crumbled military superpower. A massive throne of human skulls I created, and from it I presided over my realm. The humans did not know of it, they had long ago lost belief of so-called “foolish” polytheistic religions. They believed in one God, one supreme being, and for that they were fools. I ensured that within my kingdom, war was commonplace, and as rumor of my presence spread, so did hatred of my name.

“Do not take my name in vain.” Something that any would wish. Ah, but I enjoyed it. To have my name cursed and my land spit upon, it pleasured me. When the people hated me enough to kill each other, my goals were almost reached completely. And that is what they did, but I began to detect rebellion amongst them. They began to plot my demise, they thought that they could remove a God.

I understood then that they thought I was but a bloodthirsty warlord, nothing more than a crazy survivor of the nuclear holocaust who lived off destruction and death. Perhaps most of it was true, but they could not comprehend what I really was. The divine had been lost to these broken people, who had their entire lives ripped away in a flash of blinding light. No lord can stand rebellion against him, but I loved it. It had been long since I had done anything more than direct war, since I had personally taken part in it.

I looked forward to seeing the course of action they would take to dethrone me and ensure that I would never again plague them. I wanted to see their feeble attempt at defeating me, I wanted to watch them fail and then laugh in their faces as I slaughtered them one by one. Honor meant nothing in this world. Honor had never accomplished anything for me. Honor had gotten me nowhere, despite my godly powers. In the new age of warfare, there are no prisoners, and there is no such thing as mercy.

So I sat upon my throne of bone, awaiting their attack. Awaiting the most fun I’d had in millennia. Patience is indeed a virtue worth its weight, for it was nearly a year before they finally arrived, and even for a God a year can stretch on and seem like an eternity. Especially when in anticipation of something.

As they came into sight, I snickered to myself. They were indeed fools. Brandishing a large white cross, they sung Catholic hymns of old. They thought that they were warriors of God. A God long lost. A God that never was. I leaned back in my seat. It would no doubt be an interesting encounter. The Warriors of God come to slay the only God they would ever know. And nothing could long save them from my hand.

A noble man marched at their head, leading the bunch of grim soldiers. Wielding rifles and pistols and grenades both of old days and of makeshift nature, they confidently walked up to my throne, not seeming to be intimidated by my presence in the slightest. But that did not bother me a bit. It only made things more entertaining. The one in their lead stepped forward.

“We have come to stop you,” he said firmly. “We don’t want the violence you spawn around here anymore. And by God’s name, we shall kill you.”

I grinned. “Well, there is nothing stopping you, warrior,” I said coolly. “I am here. Certainly you could let loose a thousand bullets in a matter of seconds to tear apart my body and put an end to my reign of terror.”

“Trust me when I say that it crosses my mind and tempts me, warlord. But that is not the proper thing to do,” he replied, his voice still carried strong. “Unless you give us good reason, we shall do the honorable thing and simply take you captive, allowing God to take you when he will.”

This God they always spoke of…perhaps it would be improper for me to say that he did not exist, for in a way the were worshipping divine figures. But it was not a single God they sent their prayers up to. Humankind had thrown all the Gods and Goddesses of good into one clump, one grouping, a collection of immortal powers they viewed as a singular entity. Still, however, they were entirely wrong in their assumptions, as each of the Gods and Goddesses were rather different…together, they were now nothing more than a bunch of powerless weaklings who could not come together to defeat a common enemy out of pride.

As for the “evil” deities of the world, we were all tossed into a similar grouping, collectively known as Satan. Considered the spawn of evil, tempter of mortal men, tormentor of the damned. Satan it was that betrayed God and fell from the heavens. At least their story held a slight bit of truth. We had betrayed the other Gods. But we did not fall from heaven. We took it, destroyed it, and came to the earth out of choice to rule it as our kingdom. And now the mortals were rising up against a force they could not comprehend.

“Ah, but I am your God,” I told him. He shook his head slowly.

“You are a crazed sinner, blackened forever by your evil deeds. And still, even when you have no hope, you continue your blasphemy,” he replied. “Please, come with us and we will show you mercy, unlike you show to your victims.”

With that grin still upon my face, I peered into this man’s soul. His name was Maxwell, a respected and skilled soldier from a small village of survivors from the holocaust. That is, the nuclear holocaust. On the surface he was indeed a good man, and any who knew him could attest to that through his deeds. But deep within him, in the recesses of his spirit, lurked and inner struggle. Darkness battled the light, good fought evil for command over this man. And he could do naught to change the outcome of this war that raged on inside him, naught but hide it from the rest of the world.

Needless to say, he could not hide it from me. I looked a bit more into this, searching for the cause of it all. It seemed that he had much indeed to hide, much that he was ashamed of when brought into the eyes of others. He himself had committed sins, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he enjoyed it. He reveled in combat, he enjoyed every second of warfare, but his conscience would not allow him to reveal it. He had once been a machine of slaughter, killing all those who stood in his way during skirmishes nearby towns over water and whatnot. By his hand, men had fallen. By his hand, innocent women and children were cut down in bursts of bloodlust. By his hand, a priest had died.

He was trying to prove himself a good man by locking up his guilt and joining a crusade of God, a holy war in which all who took part in the name of their Lord were freed of all sin. He was a conflicted man, and I decided that it would be enjoyable to play upon that a bit. Even I would not have objections to a servant of his skill. The man reeked of combat knowledge and experience. “Was it the will of God that struck down those poor children, Maxwell? Or how about the mothers who rushed to protect their babies? Was it the will of God that one of his own priests be ripped apart by bullets?”

He was silent, his eyes now gazing at me with fiery hatred. He seemed to be searching me, though he could not find any answers that way. “How…how do you know that? And where did you learn my name?”

I laughed. “Dear Maxwell,” I began, “as I have already stated, I am your God. You live in my land, and even follow the ways of war, my domain. How could I not know about that?”

“I have never told a soul about those things…there is no way…” he said to himself, apparently still in disbelief. I rose slowly and approached him. He looked up to me, the hatred in his eyes now gone. He did not step back like those that followed him, who had their weapons trained on me. Suddenly, his confidence returned. “I will pay for those sins in hell, but until then I obey only God the Almighty, and do as he wills. You go against his ways, and we will stop you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!”

I placed my hand on his shoulder, and his eyes looked directly into mine. “Now, now, Maxwell,” I said to him. “You very well know that you are not doing the work of God.”

“It is a lie!” he shouted, pushing my hand away. “I’ll won’t listen to your nonsense any longer!”

“Ah, but you will, because you feel your true calling awakening inside of you,” my grin grew wider. “Maxwell, I know how you felt about killing those people who this “God” you worship say do not deserve to die. You loved every second of it. Blood is your trade, you kill for a living, and you would have it no other way. Death is but entertainment to you, and you can not longer deny it.”

He stepped back, his eyes lighting up. “No! It is not true!” he yelled. The others now looked on in wonder and shock. “Killing is no proper form of entertainment…” he said unconvincingly.

“You know who I am, Maxwell. You may consider me evil, if only because that is what they tell you…” I said to him. “And you know that the only way you will receive satisfaction is by accepting that evil. Join me, and together we can wage war against the people of this world, and take pleasure in it!”

“No, I cannot…I will not…” he said. That he was now faltering had become quite obvious to the others, and they looked upon him with judging eyes. He turned to them. “Leave me be!” he yelled. “The only judge is God himself! You cannot punish me for my sins!”

“Calm down, Maxwell,” said one of them, approaching him slowly.

He raised his finger to the man that had spoken, his hand shaking. His eyes were wide and sweat poured down his face. No longer was he the noble man that had first arrived. “Stay away from me! It is none of your concern that I enjoyed the spilling of their blood! Is nothing sacred in this world?” He moved away from them, and they approached him as a group.

“Maxwell, we mean you no harm,” another man said.

“Mean me no harm? You seek to persecute me and act as God!” he shouted, then turning his finger to me. “You are no better than him!”

I laughed once again, quite entertained by the entire ordeal, sitting once again upon my throne. He had broken easier than I had hoped, but it was still better than just another day. Suddenly, Maxwell drew a shotgun from beneath his coat, and began to fire random shots into the crowd, crying “I alone do the work of God!” He was quickly stopped, falling to the ground after several bullets tore through his body. I clapped slowly as they turned to me, their eyes filled with sorrow, guilt, and anger.

“It is indeed interesting seeing how easily you humans turn on each other,” I said. “A spectacular show, I thank you for entertaining me this evening.”

They all raised their weapons, directing them at me.

“We shall allow you last words before sending you back to your master in the pits of hell,” said one of them.

I shook my head slowly, all the while my grin remaining strong. “Then all I have to say if fare thee well, my friends, and I hope you enjoy the afterlife.”

There was a great flash of lights, though not because of gunfire. No, these lights were not accompanied by the sound of firing weapons, but rather the screams of people now burning slowly and painfully. Their skin melted sluggishly, and one by one the screams died out as they fell. It had indeed been an enjoyable day, even for the God of War. Perhaps now I will need to make my throne larger, with all these bones sitting around unused…