[You saw Amos' tears. She rarely cried, but now her face was expressionless as she said, "In that case, please give me your most cherished bow."]
[The bow was a true artifact, imbued with divine power and bonded to its wielder. You formally passed it on to Amos and gave it a new name—Amos' Bow.]
["It is yours now," you said. "With this bow, you can pierce any prey in the world."]
["But I only wish to use it to pierce your heart," Amos said sorrowfully. "I want to know… if you even have one."]
[You watched silently as Amos departed. This time, you chose not to summon another to your tower. The intimacy between gods and mortals brought fleeting joy but left lasting pain.]
[When you announced that no more humans would be sent to the tower, discontent rippled through your subjects. After all, previous chosen ones had gained eternal youth, indestructible bodies, and priceless treasures.]
[They accused you of selfishness, believing you no longer wished to share your divine gifts. But your overwhelming power kept them from openly rebelling.]
[What you overlooked, however, was that while eternal youth and unyielding flesh could not be taken, the artifact Amos' Bow stirred envy in many. One day, the eldest son of the Gunnhildr family, emboldened by his status, attempted to seize the bow from Amos.]
[Amos cherished the bow and would never relinquish it willingly. In the ensuing struggle, she loosed an arrow, and the bow's immense power instantly pierced the young man's chest, killing him on the spot.]
[Your laws did not permit execution. The harshest punishment was exile—casting criminals beyond the storm barrier. But exile from the warmth and safety of your realm was tantamount to a death sentence.]
[For committing murder, Amos was exiled. By the time you learned of it, she was already gone, her whereabouts unknown.]
[Enraged, you punished the Gunnhildr family, despite objections from many. Resolute, you stripped the entire family of their status, banishing them from your realm as exiles.]
[Your heavy-handed decree fueled widespread discontent. The people called you a tyrant, composing songs mocking you. Some even declared they were tired of their lives being dictated and sought freedom beyond the storm barrier.]
[But you would not allow such defiance. For centuries, you had ruled this nation alone, ensuring everything functioned with perfect order.]
[To prevent escapes, you fortified the storm barrier. To silence their insults, you summoned fierce winds to bow their heads.]
[You believed wounds must be excised to heal. To eradicate dissent, you imposed iron-fisted policies, sentencing all who defied you to death.]
[The defiant were shredded by your winds, their bodies left for ravens and vultures as a warning. For lesser crimes, punishments were no less severe: poets who sang mocking songs lost their voices to frost, and those who glared at you in defiance had their eyes torn by the wind.]
[At last, your nation returned to its former tranquility. No voices of dissent remained, only bowed heads offering respect and fear.]
[Age 1403: On an otherwise ordinary morning, you were awakened by an unexpected commotion. Outside the tower, countless windblume petals floated in the air. The three rings sealing the tower had been undone!]
[The exiled Gunnhildr family had returned, uniting with the other two great families in rebellion against you.]
[The combined strength of the three families broke the tower's seals. Yet you felt no fear—only sorrow. A tragedy from long ago seemed destined to repeat itself. Their foolishness would bring them harsh punishment.]
[Standing atop your tower as always, you awaited their attack. Part of you was curious how they intended to challenge a god.]
[The rebellion had clearly been carefully planned. Even Andrius, the defeated Wolf King of the North Wind, had joined their cause. You sneered. He was no match for you. But then, you saw others among their ranks—and disbelief gripped you.]
[There they stood: the bard, the knight, and… Amos.]
["Why do you betray me?" you demanded, your voice filled with pain. "Why repay kindness with treachery?"]
[The bard, still as youthful as the day he left, answered sorrowfully: "I curse the gift you gave me. I am forced to watch everyone I love fade away, leaving me in eternal solitude."]
[The knight, now even more imposing than before, declared: "I curse this unyielding body. I can no longer feel the thrill of battle—no one will fight me, for I cannot be defeated."]
[Amos, however, offered only a few words: "I curse the hope you gave me—hope that was never meant to be fulfilled."]
[A small, shapeless wind spirit accompanied them, watching cautiously from the shadows.]
[The battle began. The blessings you once bestowed upon them now turned into weapons against you. The bard's agile movements made him difficult to catch. The knight's indestructible body withstood your tempests. And Amos's arrows now possessed the power to penetrate your winds.]
[Of course, Andrius remained the primary force among your opponents. While his strength was no match for yours, the combined efforts of the others created an unexpected stalemate.]
[It was not because their strength rivaled yours. In truth, their attacks struggled to break through your protective winds. The stalemate arose because you hesitated, afraid to harm Amos.]
[Though her Vision reduced the winds' effects on her, the full force of your protective gales could still cut her down.]
[During a brief pause in the battle, the wind spirit whispered something to Amos. After a moment of silence, she dropped Amos' Bow and charged directly at you.]
[You had refrained from harming her because she kept her distance as an archer. But if she drew near, your ferocious winds would surely tear her apart.]
[Without thinking, you weakened your winds as she approached. Yet even so, the sharp gales tore into her fragile mortal body, leaving her gravely wounded.]
[Cradling the bleeding Amos in your arms, you called her name over and over. Yet her face showed no pain—only a faint smile. "I knew it," she murmured weakly. "Your love for me… is different."]
[She had never truly hated you. She knew these so-called "allies" could not harm you. Her sole purpose in coming here was to prove that your love for her was not the same as your love for the others.]
[Her bloodied arms went limp. Her death was sudden and overwhelming. And in your grief, the protective winds around you vanished.]
[Your enemies believed Amos' sacrifice would give them an opening to strike. They were wrong. What awaited them was the wrath of the Lord of Tempests.]
[The battle was over in an instant—so swift that its details need not be described.]
[The tempest you unleashed from the tower's peak reduced half of the rebel forces to dust in moments.]
[Standing atop the tower, you crushed the remaining rebels underfoot. Your voice thundered across the land: "You call me a tyrant… then I shall grant your wish."]
[You spared your enemies, not out of mercy, but to prolong their suffering.]
[The bard was imprisoned in the tower's deepest dungeon, deprived of sunlight and wine.]
[The knight was chained to the tower's highest spire, where relentless winds cut him and the sun scorched him day and night.]
[As for Andrius, you captured all his offspring and slaughtered them one by one before his eyes. You had given the defeated Wolf King many chances in the past, and he had squandered them all.]
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Author's Note: Well we did not reach 600, so no extra chapter for you!