DarkMatter1234
patreon
(GTSGIR) Ch 8: The Worshiping Ones!
🕑 Added 2025-09-05 02:42:44 +0000 UTCValok wiped the condensation from his brow and looked outward, his chest heaving with awe as much as exertion. Before him stretched an endless plain of living flesh, smooth and faintly gleaming with a natural sheen of warmth. The ground beneath his boots shifted subtly, a steady rise and fall like a continent breathing beneath him. To him it was the very surface of the world, and yet he knew—it was only a sliver. A fragment of a fragment.
He was standing on the lower belly of the Goddess Solace.
From his vantage, he could see the faint dark ridges that sprouted like hills in the distance—her fine, downy hairs, each one taller than a tower, capable of eclipsing him and his entire crew if they toppled. They swayed faintly with the unseen pull of space's currents, like forests bowing in a wind that he could not feel.
Above him, the horizon was dominated not by sky but by the endless pale slope of her abdomen, stretching outward in both directions without end. Even tilting his head back, he could not see where it ended—her navel somewhere above was like a canyon rim lost in the haze. Every direction offered the same view: a living world of flesh, immeasurable and eternal.
"It's..." he whispered, unable to stop the tremble of reverence in his voice. "Amazing."
To his right, a small team of his comrades grunted as they struggled against a massive boulder, easily thirty times their size. It had plunged from above—along with a bead of condensed sweat from the Goddess herself. The impact hadn't even left a mark on her, but for them, it was an obstacle as dangerous as any falling star.
"Marvelous," he breathed again, though whether he spoke of her or of their persistence, he didn't know.
The task before them was called the Trial of Adherence. It was a ritual older than any recorded memory, one passed down through generations as both a duty and a test. Once every span of years, citizens from every province of their world gathered in fleets to ascend to her body, to clean, to endure, and to prove themselves worthy of existing in the light of their Creator.
Most did not return. The statistics were no secret. Those who survived often bore scars—burns, breaks, or worse—but they bore them proudly. The risk was not just known, it was accepted.
Because what higher honor could there be than to set foot upon the body of the Goddess?
Valok knew this truth in his bones. Even as fear thrummed in his heart, even as sweat rolled down his temple in the shadow of hairs that could crush him flat, he knew. She was their beginning, their end, their everything.
He planted his brush—a mere speck of a tool—against the wall of skin and scrubbed, watching faint particles flake away and vanish into the void. Beside him, one of his friends, Orven, paused and leaned heavily against the handle of his scraper.
"Hard to believe she even notices this," Orven muttered, squinting across the plain. "All this work—and to her, it must be nothing."
Valok smiled faintly, still scrubbing. "It's not about her noticing. It's about us remembering."
Orven snorted but didn't argue. They both knew the truth: the Goddess demanded perfection not because she needed their effort, but because they needed her trials. To falter was to dishonor her gift of life.
Another of their friends, Liora, grunted as she wiped grime from her forehead. "Still... I swear I felt her laugh earlier. The way the ground shook under us—it rattled my teeth."
Valok chuckled under his breath. "And if she did? Then that too is an honor. To amuse her, even for a heartbeat."
He looked upward again, straining against the vertigo. In the distance, far above the haze of her belly, he could faintly see the ridge of her chest rising into the heavens, vast cliffs of flesh that no mountain could rival. Beyond that—her face, though so far away it blurred into an unreachable horizon. Yet even blurred, even distant, he knew it was watching.
The Goddess.
The one who created his world.
The one who could erase it with a single breath if she wished.
And here he stood—less than a microbe against her infinity—allowed to tread her flesh.
"Marvelous," he whispered again, and this time, it was without doubt.
For Valok, there was no higher truth.
——
The thought had barely left him when the ground shuddered beneath his boots. He staggered, falling to his knees along with the others as the entire plain of flesh quaked like a continent under siege. Dust and debris from distant pores shook loose and rained down around them in tiny avalanches.
Then the thunder came.
Not from the heavens. Not from the stars. From her.
The voice of Solace rumbled through their bodies, vibrating the very marrow of their bones. It wasn't sound in the way mortals understood it—it was resonance, an endless wave that traveled through flesh, through the airless void, through them.
"My little ones..."
Valok pressed his palms to the warm ground, heart hammering. He looked up, squinting through the haze that rippled across the endless pale horizon. And there it was—her face.
So far away, and yet close enough to blot out the heavens, her lips glistened like vast crimson gates stretching across the sky. Her eyes, galaxies unto themselves, pierced downward with an intensity that made his chest tighten. The faint curl of her mouth was a smile, and yet to him it was a storm, capable of swallowing entire civilizations whole.
"You have labored well," she said, her words rolling across the plains like rolling thunder. Valleys of skin trembled, hairs bowed, and Valok and his companions clung to the living earth just to stay upright. "You are deserving of... a reward."
The word sent a ripple of awe and dread through the ranks. Around Valok, dozens of citizens knelt, some weeping, some chanting, some too overcome to move.
Then the lips parted.
Her teeth gleamed like walls of white stone, vast beyond imagining. From within, the void of her mouth opened—a cavern blacker than space itself, framed by soft lips that stretched wider than continents. Even at this distance, Valok could feel the pull of her breath, a subtle current tugging against his body, as though the universe itself leaned toward her.
"Come..." Her voice boomed, warm and resonant. "Come to my mouth."
The command hit Valok like a blow. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, terror warred with devotion.
Her mouth.
The place no one returned from.
He looked at Orven, whose face had gone pale, eyes wide with both fear and reverence. Liora had clasped her hands together, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"She's chosen us," Liora whispered, voice shaking. "We... we're to be taken into her."
Valok's heart thundered. To be consumed by the Goddess was an ending, yes—but what greater honor could exist? To be folded back into the very being who had given them life. To become part of her once more.
He forced himself to stand, swaying slightly as the ground beneath him trembled again with the faint rumble of her laugh. He turned toward the distant glimmer of her mouth, yawning open in the heavens, and raised a trembling hand.
"Then we go," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. "If she calls us... we go."
