The Setup
You’ve already got the right logic:
Cultists of Sacrier → They want to prove themselves. But they know they can’t go after Goultard or Iop directly without sparking divine war.
You → A rival of Goultard, someone “mortal enough” to challenge without starting a cosmic mess. In their eyes, you’re the perfect sacrifice.
Problem → You beat them without killing them. Which, to them, is the greatest insult possible. Sacrier’s creed is sacrifice through blood. To deny them that blood is to deny their goddess.
So they do the one thing that guarantees her attention: they cut themselves in a blood ritual, spilling enough essence to summon her.
Her Arrival
The sky bleeds crimson. Chains sprout from the ground, lashing like serpents. Black feathers rain like knives.
Sacrier doesn’t step in gently — she erupts into the mortal plane, her body glowing with blood runes and her wings dragging chains heavy with centuries of screams.
Her first words are not for you. They’re for her cultists:
“You DARE bind me with mortal cuts? I am not a hound to be whistled for.”
Without hesitation, she slashes half of them down with her chains, tearing their blood from their bodies in midair, drinking it through runes etched across her arms.
The survivors cower — and then her gaze locks on you.
The Confrontation
Her eyes glow like burning wounds. Her lips curl in a smile that’s equal parts hunger and accusation.
“So. You’re the reason I’ve been dragged here. You spilled no blood. You denied me 6,000 milliliters of divine offering. You hoard your veins as if they were worth more than the prayers of my children.”
She steps closer, chains dragging, wings twitching, blood dripping off her talons.
“Do you think that makes you righteous? Or does it make you mine to punish?”