Nairmis looked around at them, taking in the cautious anticipation in all five nymphs' eyes. He smiled faintly. "Since you've come, I'll accept all of you. From now on, you have nothing to fear here with me."
The four newly arrived nymphs exchanged glances. The tension in their eyes quickly faded, replaced by a joy that nearly spilled from their eyes.
At last, they had somewhere to belong. They no longer had to curl up alone in the wind and rain, no longer had to fear being silently erased one day by the fallout of a battle between gods.
Nairmis waited for their emotions to settle a little before asking, "Do you all have names of your own?"
The nymphs shook their heads. They were wild spirits, without parents or an inheritance. They had been alone from the moment they awoke. Where would they have gotten names?
The water nymph Acenoe's eyes suddenly lit up. She stepped forward, folded her hands over her chest, and lowered her head, her voice solemn.
"Honored God of Emotions, my beautiful and merciful master, you have granted us protection and a place to stay. You have given us somewhere to belong. We dare not ask for too much, but if you could also grant us names, we would remember your grace forever."
The other four nymphs nodded repeatedly at her words, their gazes growing even more fervent.
Nairmis paused. Grant them names?
He thought it over. From these nymphs' perspective, it did make sense. They had been born from nature without fathers or mothers, and no one had ever been qualified to name them.
As the god who had accepted their allegiance, granting them names was not only a natural ceremony, but also a declaration formally binding their destinies together.
Nairmis walked up to the water nymph and studied her intently for a moment. "You were born from a deep pool. I hope you'll be gentle like water, and resilient like water too. From now on, you are Acenoe. That is your name."
The water nymph froze for a moment, then her eyes quickly reddened. "Acenoe," she whispered. "I have a name."
He walked up to the tree nymph and thought for a moment before saying, "I hope you'll be as steadfast and enduring as a tree. Your name is Dryope."
He said to the flower nymph, "You awoke from the blooming of flowers. I hope you'll always keep growing toward the light like this. Your name is Antheia."
To the forest nymph, he said, "I hope you'll be as embracing as a forest, and as patient as one too. Your name is Hylea."
Last came the mountain nymph. Nairmis thought for a moment and said, "I hope you'll be as dependable as a mountain. Your name is Oreas."
All five nymphs bowed their heads together. "Thank you for granting us names, Master."
Then they raised their heads. The tension and distance in their eyes were gone, replaced by a deeper trust.
Nairmis shook his head slightly, a faint, helpless smile on his lips.
Such simple, adorable spirits. Merely giving them names had earned him such sincere, fervent trust. His Emotion Divinity clearly sensed their sincerity.
He cleared his throat. Now that his team had begun to take shape, it was time for something very important: a motivational speech, commonly known as dangling a carrot.
"I have many things to do next, but I can't do them alone. Since you've chosen to follow me, I won't treat you poorly. Right now, you're ordinary nymphs, but in the future, as long as you work hard, I'll grant you divinities and make you my subordinate gods."
He paused, feeling that the carrot was not quite enticing enough. His Emotion Divinity quietly went to work, infusing his voice with a thread of encouraging divine power.
"Subordinate gods are beings who can share a god's authority. You'll no longer merely guard a pool or a tree. You'll become part of a domain, part of the laws. When that time comes, you'll be able to protect not only yourselves, but countless nymphs like you behind you."
The five nymphs exchanged glances. Those words suddenly fanned the little flames in their chests. It was no longer just about following a gentle god. Far ahead, a mountain called divinity awaited them, waiting to be climbed.
"Are you willing?"
"Yes."
Five voices rang out almost simultaneously. They were now brimming with enthusiasm.
Nairmis nodded in satisfaction, secretly giving his motivational skills a high score. The use of emotional divine power had proved surprisingly effective at inspiring others.
They wished they could rush out and get to work immediately-any work would do, as long as they could prove themselves worthy of that trust and those names.
Nairmis pressed down the corners of his mouth in satisfaction. Emotion Divinity was simply too useful for motivational speeches.
But now that the grand promises had been made, the work had to begin in earnest. He needed to strengthen that thread of Record Divinity. The memories of everything he had witnessed in the chaos were stored in his mind, but their details were bound to grow hazy over time.
He needed to move them from his mind into reality, turning them into something that could be read over and over. That was the essential duty of recording: preserving the fleeting and fixing the indistinct in place.
Writing. He needed writing, and writing needed a medium.
Papermaking, using the techniques from his previous life. He considered it, then rejected the idea. There was simply no way to assemble everything that process required under present conditions. Too much was missing.
But he remembered that the ancient Greeks had used parchment. Once sheepskin had been scraped, stretched, and dried, it could become a smooth, flat writing surface.
It was somewhat cumbersome too, but at least every step could be completed with what they had now.
"Do you know where there are sheep nearby?" he asked.
Oreas stepped half a pace forward. "My esteemed master, beyond that ridge behind us, there's a flock of sheep in the valley on the other side. I hear them moving through the valley every day."
Nairmis's eyes lit up. He picked up the stone knife and tucked it into his belt. "Lead the way. We're going now."
They walked for a while and, sure enough, found a flock of sheep grazing in the valley. It was a small flock, only a dozen or so.
Although Nairmis and the five nymphs were at the very bottom of the divine hierarchy, they were more than capable of subduing a few sheep.
After a bout of pandemonium, three fat sheep had their hooves bound with vines and were dragged back to the pool in Proeon Mountain Col.
Nairmis had the nymphs grind a few more stone knives, then crouched beside the sheep himself, picked up the sharpest knife, and began slaughtering and skinning them.
He still remembered the process for making parchment. Preparing the sheepskin required removing the entire hide intact, and before skinning it, he had to drain the blood.
As the blade sliced into the sheep's throat, warm blood gushed out and seeped into the soil beside the pool.
In the distance, Dryas looked away, while Anthea's vine wrists twisted tightly together. Nape took a step back, her lips pressed into a thin line. Though Rhea did not retreat, she lowered her gaze to the ground. Acenoe bit her lip, her eyes full of conflicting feelings.
Looking at Nairmis with his blood-covered hands, they could not reconcile him with the gentle figure he had been just moments before.
The nymphs gradually retreated farther away. Finally, halfway through the skinning, they all turned their backs, unable to keep watching.
Fuanthia's voice drifted over from a distance. "Acenoe, our master looks so gentle and beautiful, but could he actually be a violent god who enjoys slaughter?"
Acenoe looked at the blood-drenched, golden-haired figure beside the pool, no longer quite certain herself. "I don't know..."
Nairmis sensed the emotions drifting over from them: fear, doubt, unease.
He set down the knife and straightened, blood still dripping from his hands. Turning around, he gave them a gentle smile that nearly scared all five nymphs to death. "Don't be afraid."
His voice carried the soothing power of his Emotion Divinity. "This is a way to increase my divine power. Only by becoming stronger can I protect you and grant you divinities."
The five nymphs fell quiet for a moment. Then Acenoe was the first to walk over, nodding. Although her gaze still wavered evasively, she no longer shrank back as she had before.
Seeing this, the other four slowly approached too, ready to help.
Nairmis said nothing more. He turned around and crouched beside the sheep to continue. Knowing their difficulty, he tilted his head toward the pool. "Go rest by the pool for now. I can do this myself."
As though granted a pardon, the nymphs retreated to the ground beside the pool and sat in a row, sneaking occasional glances at him.
In the distance, Hemera, Goddess of Day, was still hiding behind a tree trunk.
She should have left already, but she could not bring herself to move. That golden-haired figure bent over the sheepskin, his head and face covered in blood, was still so beautiful that she could not look away.
His movements as he slaughtered the sheep were swift and clean, but there was no brutality in his expression, only concentration.
As she watched in a daze, the divinity of day within her suddenly trembled softly. The laws were urging her to leave. Night was coming.
Hemera bit her lip and took one last, deep look at that figure before reluctantly withdrawing her gaze. She quietly turned and vanished soundlessly into the depths of the trees' shadows.
After preparing the sheepskins, Nairmis submerged them in the pool, then climbed in himself to wash. The icy water washed away the dark red blood. He stood up and shook off the droplets, about to attend to other matters, when he suddenly noticed that the sky was rapidly darkening.
Daylight receded extremely quickly. Before long, night would fall completely.
Nairmis paused briefly, then hurried over to the pile of grass he had prepared during the day.
It was a pile of dry grass fluff and fine wood shavings. Beside it lay a flat piece of hardwood and a sharpened dry branch.
He crouched, placed the pointed end of the branch in a groove in the wooden block, clasped its upper end between his palms, and began rubbing them rapidly back and forth.
Hearing the noise, the nymphs gathered curiously and crouched in a circle. They watched Nairmis rubbing a branch between his palms, having absolutely no idea what he was doing.
White smoke began rising from among the wood shavings and grass fluff, accompanied by a faint scorched smell.
Nairmis did not stop. His hands moved faster and faster, until a spark finally leaped up in the grass fluff, and then a flame appeared.