Lucifer Phosphoros Lux, he who rebuilt the world, the father of the reborn sun, the eternal new god. All fitting titles for the man who learned the secret of ascension, became a god, survived the original god's apocalypse, and crafted a new sun after the original was stolen away.
While Phos is an idealist at heart, trusting, and generous, he's also got some streaks of powerdrunk sadism running in his veins. Unforgiving, his damning flaw is his determination to hold grudges and the sheer joy Phos gets from watching those he hates flounder - which mixes badly with being leader of the world power and largest settlement. Thankfully, he does tend to listen to reason, letting his trusted few reel him in when he goes too far.
He misses his tiny, intimate Ant colony, but his bleeding heart inspired him to open the City of Lux's borders to refugees of all sorts, letting it rise up as a beacon of shining hope for all. It helps that the newly-remade sun and moon rest there, too.
His ultimate goal - besides "restore the world to its former glory", of course - is to find the original god, their Gladar, and kill them himself.
Phosphoros Lux, once a member of the Lux Ant Colony, grew up as is typical for Ants: surrounded by peers, never alone for a moment, warring against other colonies for clout and gyne. From childhood, he had his sights set high: he wanted, more than anything, to become Lux Colony's Minister of Diplomacy, working underneath the Vice Consul.
Though allying with other colonies is uncommon, it's not unheard of - and allies with nearby, non-Ant cities can sometimes spell the difference between life and death after particularly harrowing raids. The Diplomatic Branch, led by the Head Ambassador, focuses on these tasks, setting aside Ants' natural bloodlust to try to reach a communal agreement.
He grew up with his best friend, Ourias Lux, at his side, the two never seen apart. After graduating from school together, they became dorm-mates, both heading into External Management (Phos towards Diplomacy, Ourias as a soldier). Though they had disagreements and spats - plenty of them, really - they still always turned back to each other, the dysfunction familiar and comforting. A major struggle between them was religion.
While Phos was never particularly religious, Ourias found comfort and guidance in it, believing it gave him a purpose greater than that of his colony - something that never quite clicked with Phos. What did anything matter, but the colony? Who cared if they benefited some random outsiders, save for what it could bring the colony?
Regardless, Phos never quipped too hard against Ourias' worship, but had his interest piqued in the concept. Everyone in Lux knew of their god, their Gladar - a bitchy excuse of a holy creature, bratty and contemptful. They never had anything good to say about their creation, and Phos would readily not have a good word to say about them in turn. While he never vocalized this to Ourias, Phos ran in several anti-Gladar circles, growing more disillusioned with organized religion and its functions.
Meanwhile, Ourias had risen through the ranks of External to serve as Head of Raids - directly underneath Commander of the Army, second-highest ranking position of the colony. It was an honor that Phos was immensely proud of him for, though it kickstarted his own desperate attempts to gain position as Minister of Diplomacy. The current holder of the title, however, had no intentions of retiring anytime soon.
Frustrated and taking to pacing colony grounds, he was caught out of safe zones during a defense - a neighboring colony was staging a raid. Phos lost both of his antennae in the ensuing scuffle, though escaped unharmed beyond that.
However, it had a profound impact on how he interacted with his fellow Ants. Unable to read pheromones anymore or pick up on subtle discussion, wordplay, or unspoken thoughts, he was suddenly closed out of much of Ant communication. As a diplomat, though, he still interacted often with outsiders, suddenly finding their presence much easier to tolerate.
After all, the other races didn't communicate half-with-pheromones. He could talk and understand them just the same as he did before - while missing out on the idle gossip and shittalking of his fellow diplomats during meetings. Really, it made him a better person.
Phos grew more and more attached to outsiders, collecting their numbers to text and chat. He adored the structure of colony life still, but the sense of other that clung to him left a constant sour taste in his mouth. Ourias grew distant as well, consumed with new duties as Head of Raids.
Talking to one of said outsiders, complaining about the restrictiveness of talking to non-Ants, a friend of Phos' asked why he didn't just petition the colony leader to lifting some of the regulations. Phos countered with the fact that it proved no real benefit to the colony, but the seed had been planted, and the more he ruminated the more irritated he found himself with the colony leader's behaviors.
They just weren't good for the colony. They were too isolationist. If they'd been more reasonable and open to discussing with the other colonies, Phos probably wouldn't have lost his feelers in a stupid defense. And, really, their adjustments to building regulation codes made it so annoying to try to clear any construction. And Ourias bitched about how difficult it was to get them to sign off on reports.
Brimming with anger, fully split on the leader and convinced they were irredeemable, Phos challenged them for leadership. Though he had little combat experience, he still gave it his all - and to his surprise, the previous leader threw the fight. They were tired of the stress of the job, and were happy to give it up to a younger, brighter mind.
Phos set about adjusting every nitpick he'd accumulated over the last few months, ending his changes with upgrading Ourias to Commander. Though surprised at the sudden preferential treatment after over a year of little communication with Phos, Ourias still did his best to support him - offering Phos advice and tips he'd learned from the previous Commander.
Though his life was baked with more work and more stress, Phos eagerly rose to the challenge. As he adapted smoothly, a duck to water, he found himself wondering why he hadn't done such a thing before. He was running this ship so much better than the last leader. He was just better, wasn't he?
Haha, and thinking about the Gladar - if Phos were a god, he would've made this entire Universe shape itself up into something real impressive by now. What kind of god just sat around and moped all the time, anyways?
What if... what if he ascended himself?
The idea was ludicrous. None of the gods were permitted to ascend anyone, not that any mortals figured that it was possible. It was only a byproduct of ancient legends, from before the Gladar descended and laid out the truth of the world. But still, Phos poured over the texts, scouring them for any information.
There was, of course, little. The concept had been poorly-understood then, and it wasn't like the modern translations provided much more detail. If he was to ascend himself, he would need to do it himself. Thankfully, "quit" wasn't in his vocabulary.
All methods of ascension described had required the magic of a god, a being higher than the mortal. This magic, when added to the mortal's, did something, and then they were ascended. If he was going to get anywhere, though, he'd likely need a catalyst - something that would trigger the god's magic to meld with his own, rather than his body simply digesting it.
A tall order, of course. He had to find godblood, somewhere, and figure out a sort of catalyst that could mix, not kill him, and accomplish what he wanted, all without actually giving his potion to anyone else as a test run.
But, he was no quitter.
Phos successfully managed to tap into the blood reserves of a nearby god - the patron of Gatia, the capital city of Nevanne, the nation where his colony was located. Under diplomatic excuses, he travelled there, convinced the church members he was establishing a small branch back at Lux, and received a blessed vial of godblood in return. Step one down.
News came to his doorstep, disrupting ascension plans: a refugee running from his war crimes had appeared in Nevanne, begging for asylum. He pledged loyalty to whichever city would take him, boasting of his information of foreign powers, culture, magic, and influence. When no town responded, Cerebra grew desperate, swearing his sword and life to any leader that would protect him.
Phosphoros offered such, much to the sudden chagrin of Ourias. Allowing an outsider into their colony - a criminal outsider, at that? What was he thinking? Phos waved off the protests, bringing Cerebra in to his private chambers for questioning.
Was there, in any of your travels, some sort of plant or creature oft used in potionmaking, or magical chemistry?
Cerebra rattled off ten different names. Most were inaccessible, Phos found, locked behind tariffs and trade agreements that prevented imports of dangerous materials into Nevanne. But two of the plants could be found in Nevanne itself - along its western border, next to a great sea. It only took two tiny little trips before he had a stock set aside.
And, on a dark night, Phos mixed half of the blood and the crushed herbs together, stirring together until they formed a sludgy, disgusting liquid. Despite the consistency reminding him of vomit, he downed the entire tincture. There were only three options: ascension, absolutely nothing, or death, and he'd accept any of the three.
Luckily for Phos, it was the foremost - after a painful, sleepless night where his innards burned and magic oozed from his orifices. When the first rays of the morning sun hit his face, Phos rose from his bed, caked in blood, and felt magic surge through his body faster than his heart could beat.
He had done it. He had ascended himself. What to do with godhood, with his terrible secret? The Gladar would surely kill him if they found out.
It wouldn't hurt to have a friend in misery, right?
That night, Phos slipped Ourias the rest of the tincture, poured into his nightly wine. As they talked into the night, its effects took hold firmly in his friend, who at first assumed he'd been poisoned. Phos merely relaxed in his chair, smiling down at Ourias, watching his closest friend damn his name to hell while writhing in pain and hiccuping up magic.
And, when the sun rose again, Ourias was left confused and alone. Phos shushed him, assured him it was nothing bad. They were just taking another step in their lives, together, as they'd always done.
He needed to climb the ladder further. He needed to rival the Gladar in power. But how to achieve such a lofty goal? Where could he get his hands on Gladar-blood?
Before any plans could begin to take root, though, the Gladar took matters into their own hands. Resentful of their world, they threw curses upon it, killed much of its populace, and then stole away the celestial bodies that had once provided such light.
Lux Colony, self-sustaining and with a booming populace, survived the initial apocalypse, though they were deeply shaken. Phos instantly took to seizing control of the nearby power plants, which included several wind farms, solar farms, and a hydroelectric dam. Though the solar farms had been rendered useless, gaining territory and keeping it secured was important.
As the Shadows began to creep and the people slowly learned of the Gladar's curse, the direness of the situation finally hit Phos. This was no child's play. If he didn't act, the entire world was going to collapse. Lux couldn't stand forever, if everywhere else was overrun.
How sickening. What god did this to their world? What god left them to rot? What god would twist and torture their creations - and for what? What had they done wrong, been born?
He threw open the borders of Lux, reestablishing it as a city. Though its core and most treasured halls remained that of an Ant colony, its urban sprawl quickly became a home for refugees, who helped rebuild much of the infrastructure and assist in setting up greenhouses and more widespread agriculture.
Meanwhile, Phos simmered in resentment. If only the Gladar were still here, he'd show them. He'd tear every bit of their sickening magic from their bones and eat it, right in front of them, prove a point. Fuck them. Fuck them and their ridiculous perception of their world. What did they know, anyways? Nothing. Nothing at all.
If he was going to prove himself, provide protection for his people forever, and attract attention from the Gladar (so he could kill them himself), he needed something extreme. Dire times called for dire measures, yes? Opening Lux, while a massive step, was simply not enough. He needed something bigger. Something that would show the whole world exactly what he was planning.
He would need to recreate the sun.
It's basically just a big fire, right? He had to somehow ensure it never burned out, that was all. And it had to be light enough that he could feasibly lift it and lower it without too much burnout. Though resources had quickly become limited in the new world, Phos' godhood meant he could generate anything he pleased.
And he pleased to generate an eternally-burning, bright, glowing ball of fire and flame.
Cobbling together the materials he'd carved out of his magic, Phos found himself staring down a tiny little blue, burning sun. It could fit into his palm. That wouldn't do, would it? But he could throw it up into the sky for now, and see what Lux thought of such an idea.
Phos took off into the sky, letting himself ride on his own magic. Above him, the tiny ball of a sun rose with him, leaving a bright streak in the darkness that had overtaken all. As they climbed higher and higher and more of his residual magic seeped into the sun, it slowly grew larger and larger, until it dwarfed him in size.
Phos could only stare up at it, eyes full of tears, at the realization of what he'd accomplished.
When he landed back at Lux, the sun glittering up above them, the people were whispering. They called him a god.
It only took a split second before a dazzling smile appeared on his face. Yes. He could work with this. He could be their god.
After all, it'd only be a matter of time before he strung the Gladar into his own crown.
- Favorite color is blue, like Ourias' freckles :)
- Thought he wouldn't have to eat anymore after ascending. Sorely disappointed to find out he didn't go high enough to not have to eat anymore....
- Strongest sense is touch; strongest taste is bitter
- Right-handed, but is slowly learning left
- Prefers upper set
- 100% on board with religion being refocused to being about him and Ourias
- WORSHIP HIM, BABY!!
- Slightly uncomfortable when people pray to him or carry effigies of him, but doesn't tell them to stop because what kind of god tells their followers to stop?
- Correct title is "Lucifer Phosphoros Lux", but "Lucifer Lux" works
- Don't call him Phos unless you're pals, though.
- Ascension bleached his hair light yellow. It was originally navy
- Strokes his horns whenever he's thoughtful about something or worried
- Constant grinning. Rare to not see his pearly whites
- Bestows halos of light on his close friends/trusted companions
- Bestowing them takes effort so he can't do it very often, but they don't cost energy for him to uphold (they use the host's magic)
- His recreated sun is blue - it's an extremely hot flame!
- Goes with the yellow motif, though, as:
- 1. Lightbulbs give off yellow, so it's a popular color
- 2. Ascension bleached his hair yellow, so it's a sign, clearly
- Goes with the yellow motif, though, as:
- No Ourias he doesn't have megalomania
- No Ourias he's not egotistic either jeez get off his back :/