u/ocelot1216

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

The spear struck, and Tadakatsu's body twisted to the right. The spearhead stabbed into the point of Marduk's attack and sent a shockwave throughout the dome as Tadakatsu's feet dug into the ground. The knockback sent a surge of pain throughout Tadakatsu's body. He could feel the immeasurable weight behind the gargantuan frozen weapon pushing down on him. Son of a bitch, this is heavy! Tadakatsu thought.

"Honda Tadakatsu…stopped the javelin!?" Heimdall shrieked, losing his voice. "This is insane! I haven't seen an attack of this magnitude since the dinosaurs' extinction! Yet, Tadakatsu Honda…stopped it!"

"This…is nothing!" Tadakatsu said through gritted teeth. The spear dug deeper. Cracks started to grow from the point of entry. Don't think I didn't notice what you did earlier. You're finally becoming a real one! His feet slowly skid back. He dug his toes into the ground. His sandals tore away under the pressure. Is this the weight of your world? All this? Do they mean this much to you? He smiled as his gaze went wild. About time you finally understand! However, you're too late, and worse, you are fighting me! Tadakatsu's body began to turn back to the left. I told you earlier! You aimed your intent at my world! The spearhead dug deeper as he turned back. The cracks extended and spread up the glacier. And for that, I will tear this all asunder!

Marduk, far up the funnel and encased in ice, could feel what was happening below. "I…am…not…losing!" He yelled. He flexed every muscle in his body and concentrated with all his might, forcing the attack down. The tip of the Javelin shattered away. The remnants of the shaft's tip slammed down through the shrapnel onto the spear tip. Tadakatsu's legs began to buckle. I made this attack to defeat Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades simultaneously! What could make you think you'd match it by yourself, let alone beat it? 

More of the gargantuan shaft broke away while the remains slammed down. Tonbokiri Kiwami's shaft began to crack. Through the ice, Marduk finally saw Tadakatsu and could not help but feel awe. His upper-body muscles tore through the remains of his Hakama. However, seeing this one human struggling was not what stirred his heart. Nay…it was what he saw behind him.

They were barely noticeable, yet he could see the apparitions behind him, bracing him. He only saw a few, then more appeared the longer he stared. They faded into each other, combining their strength to stand behind Tadakatsu. He did not recognize them. He did not need to. He knew who they were. More ice broke away than before. The shaft, now only half of what he started with, sailed down at Tadakatsu. Incredible…so that's what it was. They trust you that much. Marduk pulled his arms back and placed them next to his ribs. He shot them forward, accelerating the meteoric javelin. 

The brief moment before the attacks collided, Tadakatsu crouched down. Tonbokiri Kiwami retracted down to its base form. "LET'S GIVE HIM EVERYTHING, RANDGRIZ!" He roared.

"I'm with you…" She appeared next to him, placing her left hand on his right shoulder and her right on his forearm. Her eyes lit up like wildfire. "ALL THE WAY!" Tadakatsu sprang up and twisted his right arm. Tonbokiri Kiwami spun and extended forward, the air fleeing from the thrust. Both roared in unison.

"Honda-ryū: TEN O TSURANUKU RYŪ NO TSUNO!"

The spear and javelin collided once more as Humanity continued its united prayer.

Valhalla Arena

Gods' Bleachers

The Gods in the audience watched in silent amazement. Above them, Set jumped from his seat and screamed. "Let's go, Marduk!" He pumped his fist in the air. His spirit infected the Gods below him, and they joined him. We can’t make him fight this alone! We are here to fight alongside you, too! Please! Everyone show him!

Suddenly, the audience began to stir.

“MARDUUUUUUK!” One god similar to a red-skinned ogre yelled. “You got thiiiiiis!”

A Goddess a few rows below him yelled, tears in her eyes. “PLEASE WIIIIIN!”

Many roared and cheered. Few could stop the infectious sentiment. Before long, the Gods' side of the arena became a cacophony of voices standing in defiance of Humanity's unity. Even Zeus could not fight it and joined, his own fists punching the air like Set’s despite his brother's exasperated sighs and amusement.

As it neared Nabu and Sarpanitu, Nabu gripped his mother's hand tightly and stood up. She followed him, and the two cheered. Do you hear them, Marduk? Sarpanitu thought, her voice joining the rest of the crowd. They believe in you! Forgive them, but please answer their cheers! She looked up at the score above the dome;

Marduk XXXXXX% Honda Tadakatsu XXXXXXX%

Win, Marduk! Prove what we can do!

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

The Javelin pushed down, but more cracks grew along the shaft. Marduk could hear them reach his location, and felt power surge through his body.

They’re…here, too! He realized, feeling their wills behind his own. I am not alone! “LET’S GOOOO!” He roared.

The javelin pushed down harder than before. Tadakatsu’s legs began buckling.

*You…*Tadakatsu thought as the tinge of nostalgia struck his heart. This is you! The real you! The best you! Now I can’t yield! How can I honor such a power, and the hopes of my people, by yielding?!

1575

Nagashino, Japan

Tadakatsu jumped over the wooden barricades surrounding Nagashino Castle, his allies firing tanegashima arquebuses into Takeda Katusyori’s oncoming forces.

“The hell is Lord Honda doing?!” One of the arquebusiers yelled while reloading his rifle.

“Damn madman is trying to die!” Another yelled.

The sun hung high on that day as he sprinted down that hellscape with only Tonbokiri in hand. He could hear the artillery behind him, but no bullet ever touched him. The forces of the oncoming cavalry tried to change that.

You are seeking to burn my world! He thought, racing towards his foes. Do you know what mistake you’ve made?!

He swung Tonbokiri at the closest ones, pulverizing and cleaving them and their horses. He continued his one-man onslaught, breaking and cleaving every soul who had the misfortune to be in front of him.

My men are not yielding! They trusted me with their worlds! Their loved ones! Do you think that will ever stop me?!

Some of Ieyasu’s forces from the castle froze in awe, watching one man, bearing what many thought unbearable, tear through more men than any gunfire did that day. Such a record was lost to history, with some deeming it too absurd to be real.

But what was real was one man, carrying willingly the things he cherished and would never put down.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

Tonbokiri tore through more ice. Tadakatsu’s legs quit shaking and rose. His mouth bled from him biting down. The weight of their worlds! Of Humanity’s world! I will carry it! I will never let it fall!

He roared. Roared so loud it almost drowned out the arena’s raucous cheers.

More ice tore away. The tower descended and even more ice broke away from the force of Tadakatsu’s greatest blow.

Then, the ice surrounding Marduk cracked more and more, growing louder with each passing millisecond.

The Javelin…broke apart. The sheer force of Tadakatsu's attack spread all the way up, smashing the breaking ice into Marduk's body along with the force of the thrust. 

No…way… Marduk thought.

Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

"What the hell is that human made of!?" Zeus howled, popping up out of his seat. Is he this strong because his score is so damn high!? I haven't seen a blow like that since I fought my father! His muscles convulsed under his skin. I WANT TO FIGHT HIM!

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

The force of the combined attacks released one last shockwave in all directions. The dome reverberated. Cracks grew on the outside. Heimdall snapped back to reality as they grew. "Oh crap!" Heimdall said as he pushed a button on Gjallarhorn. Large, translucent barriers erupted from the arena's borders between the dome and the audience.

The dome exploded, sending deafening noise and debris everywhere. Chunks large and small slammed against the barriers. The Gods panicked, but not a single human flinched. All of them continued praying.

Heimdall floated high above the decimation. "Ladies and gentlemen, please wait while we try to survey the wreckage! I can't see either Fighter!" The massive cloud of dust slowly settled. Large mountains of debris and ice began to appear. Parts of the floor began to show. Come on! Where are you guys? Moments like this can't go on forever! The audience can't stand the tension! He continued searching for them. If you two killed each other, then the ratings are going to plummet for this! Do you know how long it took Hephaestus to build this dome!? Not long…but still! 

Something began showing within the settling dust. Sticking out from the dust stood an imposing figure in a black hakama, standing stalwart amongst the rubble. Randgriz came into view behind him, flat on the floor and struggling to get up. Finally! "Ladies and gentlemen, we have our sights on Tadakatsu! But where's Marduk!?" Sarpanitu tried looking for her husband, but to no avail.

"My Sun…" She said. "Damn it, you said you'd come back to me…"

"Dad…" Nabu said, clutching her arm.

Tadakatsu breathed slowly as he looked ahead. "You…better not be playing dead on me." He spat some blood to the right. "I know that was not enough to kill you."

Mirth-filled laughter erupted from the settling dust. From the area around its source, the air began to clear. Marduk, sprawled out on the floor and back to normal, was covered in bruises and cuts from head to toe. His boots and gloves were gone; what remained of his vest and pants was bleached white.

"Damn! I was hoping you'd just let me pretend to be dead so we could end this," He said, smiling. "Uuuugh...everything hurts…" He stared up at the barely legible score above the destroyed dome.

Marduk XXXXXXX% Honda Tadakatsu XXXXXXX%

“We broke the score! But…guess you got me," Marduk said. "How'd that even happen?"

"The hell are you on about?" Tadakatsu asked. His body screamed from head to toe. Randgriz managed to get her onto her hands and knees behind him.

"The Wellspring Vault is gone. All the weapons I brought with me are destroyed. My body feels like a mountain was dropped on it and ground into me for good measure."

"You mean like the one you tried to crush me with?"

Marduk could not help but chuckle. "Yeah, kind of like that." He sighed. "It's your win. This is all I am capable of."

Tadakatsu scanned the audience behind Marduk. He could make out their faces as clear as day. Where are you? He asked himself. "Is it now?"

Marduk turned his attention back to his opponent.

"There's something here telling me otherwise."

Marduk sighed, leaning back and propping himself up. "You're being too merciful. I know when I'm beaten."

Tadakatsu continued to look for something, ignoring Marduk. It took him a few more seconds before something caught his eye. "Hey."

"What?" Marduk answered, exasperated.

"Do you have a son? There's a guy in the audience behind you who looks like you."

Marduk straightened up. His pulse quickened, and he instinctively rose to his feet. Randgriz quickened her recovery in response, getting back to her feet and walking to Tadakatsu. “I do. Why?"

"Is that woman next to him your wife, or daughter? Kind of hard to tell from here."

Marduk's pulse sped up. "That's my wife." Marduk squinted at Tadakatsu, his right fist clenching. "Why?"

"This fight isn't over. Go prepare properly. While you're doing that…" Tadakatsu slowly grabbed his hakama and tore it away, revealing his chiseled frame. Burns, cuts, bruises. All colored his mighty frame. If they hurt, no one knew. "I'll be here catching a breather." He plopped down on the ground. Randgriz stopped next to him.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Randgriz whispered.

"Can you do a Völund right now?"

She shook her head.

"What about after a little rest?"

"Maybe…but neither of us is in good enough form for Tonbokiri Kiwami. We'll have to go with the second one."

"I'm…not a fan of that one, but the situation calls for it."

"I agree. It's not my strong suit, but we'll make do."

Marduk stared at the two, unable to hear their exchange. He sighed and shook his head. Mustering what strength he had left, he turned away from the two and walked.

"Marduk is walking away from his opponent, and Tadakatsu is just sitting there!? What's happening here!?" Heimdall shouted.

Don't know what's going to happen. Cold shoulder? An earful? I…probably deserve worse. Marduk stopped a few meters from the arena wall. Several large chunks of the dome littered the area between him and the audience. “Heimdall! May I borrow Gjallarhorn?!”

“Huh?”

Marduk’s soft gaze struck him.

Ah, damn it. I hope he doesn’t break it.

He tossed it down, and Marduk snatched it out of the air.

He inhaled and braced his core. "Sarpa," He said firmly, but softly, letting it echo into the bleachers. He closed his eyes briefly, opening them up and meeting his wife's.

"I did it again. I disrespected your wishes and fought alone for much of this match. Worse, I used the vault in such a way…"

Sarpanitu and Nabu, along with several attendees on the Gods' side of the arena, stared down at Marduk. Marduk's wife and son stayed silent, their expressions uncertain.

"I am not asking for your forgiveness. What I am doing, though, is what I should have done at the start of this fight and what I promised you after I defeated Tiamat." Marduk got down on one knee. "Sarpanitu, Queen of Babylon, mother of our child, my Moon and Stars."

She blushed when he said the latter.

"I can do anything, but only because you're there with me. We can do anything, and right now…I need you here more than ever." Marduk raised his right hand to her. "Will you fight beside me?"

Valhalla Arena

Human Bleachers

"The hell is he saying!?" Someone on the Human side of the arena shouted.

"2-on-1!? Cheaters!" Another yelled.

"Whoever is talking, bite your tongue!" Ieyasu roared, veins popping up on his forehead. "If Tadakatsu is not stopping this, then who are we to go against his wishes!?" His aura cascaded over the audience around him. Weak, yet unyielding, firm but not overbearing. "If you want it to be fair, why don't those who spoke go down there and fight alongside him?"

He looked around. No one met his gaze. This Shitenno and Tadakatsu's family continued to watch Tadakatsu, but their backs straightened a little bit, smirking.

"No? Then keep your opinions to yourself." He turned back around and sat. His aura vanished as he turned his attention back to his friend. I trust you. You know what must be done. Show them why you are the Hero of our Era.

Valhalla Arena

Gods' Bleachers

Sarpanitu looked down at her husband. "…Is that what you want?"

"What more could a man be foolish enough to ask for?" Marduk met her eyes. Fire burned behind them.

She felt a tinge of nostalgia in her chest from that gaze. "…I'm not a fighter."

"I never want you to be anyone or anything you're not. We will fight as one, like them." He gestured his open hand to Tadakatsu and Randgriz. "Their bond is strong, but ours?" He brought his hand back in front of his face and clenched it tight. "No force in creation could defeat us. I should have known that before leaving you behind and fighting Tiamat alone. I should have known better after what happened all those years ago. I won't make that mistake ever again."

Her lips quivered as she fought back tears. She turned to her son. He placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded. She turned back and reached into a satchel on the bench, pulling out a short, bladed tool. She turned back to her husband and stepped up onto the stone railing.

"Heimdall! Lower the barrier and let her in!" Tadakatsu shouted.

Heimdall flinched. "Wait, what? Oh, right!" He pulled out a small controller and pushed a button. The transparent barrier vanished. Sarpanitu inhaled and jumped down. She fell several meters, landing gracefully on the arena floor. She trekked over some of the debris and made her way to her husband. She stopped just a few centimeters from Marduk. He looked down and saw the tool in her hand: a small garden spade.

"You still had it?" Marduk whispered, slowly taking her hands into his.

"Of course I do…it's how I keep you near me." She smiled.

"What in Heaven would I do without you?" Light began to glow from the shovel between their hands.

"Probably pick more fights."

"Maybe…but with you I'd win them." Light erupted from their hands and enveloped them.

Valhalla Arena

Human Bleachers

"Sis…is that…?" Göll asked. Her heart started to flutter. Next to her, Brünhilde put her hands over her heart as a soft and gentle pain swelled within her. Images of a young, platinum-haired man in armor smiling at her, holding her, joking with her flooded her mind.

"…It is what you think it is, and this is one not formed by warriors aiming for victory." A small tear ran down her cheek from her left eye. "It's a Völund powered by love."

The light slowly faded away. Marduk stood alone now holding his spade. Firmly grasping it in his right hand, he flicked it to the side. Out of the spade's blade, a stream of water surged forth and solidified into a thin, translucent blade.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

Flowing Blade of Moon's Embrace

"Tadakatsu, what was this called? A Völund?"

Tadakatsu returned to his feet, smiling all the way. "It sure is." Marduk turned back around to face him. "But we'll show you how it's done. Ready?" Tadakatsu reached out his right hand to Randgriz.

"Let's win this." She answered, grabbing his right with her left. The same light erupted between the two.

VÖLUND!

RECAST!

The light faded, and within Tadakatsu's hand now rested a new weapon. Its simple meter-long curved edge shone with a pristine sheen. On the blade were connected circular markings starting from the saya all the way up to the blade's point. The handle was wrapped in white cloth, and the saya was emblazoned with a deer's antlers.

Nakatsukasa Kiwami

Marduk whistled. "Now that's a sword." Marduk took his sword in both hands. "But it won't be enough."

"We'll see about that." Tadakatsu began to exude his aura once more. "Come. I gave you your last chance. Now fight me." He whispered. A visage of a massive building erupted behind him.

Ancient Babylon

(One of the Cradles of Creation)

"Sarpa, can you see them yet!?" Marduk asked, yelling as the two flew through the sky on the back of Mušḫuššu, Marduk's chimeric steed. Its large bird wings and hind legs clashed against its leonine body, long scaly neck, and draconic head. Sarpa held onto Marduk as they raced through the skies back to their homeland. Cold, yet humid, air flowed through their hair.

"No!" She said, surveying the land as dread filled them both. The forests and mountains of their homeland were submerged beneath murky water. "What in the helheim…Marduk, I can barely see the peaks of the mountains. How did this happen?"

"Apsu and Tiamat. I didn't think it would get this bad…"

"Those two? I didn't think they were this powerful. It's like a whole other ocean down there."

"It might as well be, and it will stay that way unless those two are stopped." Marduk scanned the horizon ahead of them. The massive wall of storm clouds stretched as far as he could see. The sky above them began to darken and turn gray the closer they flew. Father. Mother. Where are you!? He thought. Please don't tell me…

A mighty wail erupted from the storm. It was high-pitched and sonorous as it flooded their ears.

"What is that!?" Sarpanitu tried to yell over the cry. Marduk could barely hear her; she could barely hear herself. It continued on and on and grew louder the closer they flew. Mušḫuššu began fidgeting under them and roared in response.

Dear Heaven, is that them!? Mušḫuššu wouldn't act this way if it weren't for his parents. Marduk thought. He felt a slight tap on his right shoulder. He turned to look back at Sarpanitu. She was pointing down, and despite being unable to hear her, he could make out what she said.

They are below us.

Marduk took them into a dive, despite Mušḫuššu's flailing. As they descended, the wail began to fade as a small, sharp hill came into Marduk's view. On top of it were a dozen or so figures. Marduk's heartbeat quickened. Sarpanitu could feel it through his back, meshing with her own. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and leaned on his back.

I know you're trying to be brave, my Sun! I'm here. You're not alone. Marduk placed his left hand on her arms as they continued descending. Marduk and Sarpanitu could now distinguish the Gods from each other. On the ground, covered in lacerations and bruises, was Ea, his green robes and black beard drenched in blood.

"Father!" Marduk shouted from above. The Gods looked up, shocked at the sight above them.

"Marduk!? What're you doing here!?" Yelled a god, wielding a massive club, his drenched blood-red robes clinging to his skin despite the turbulent wind.

Nergal

God of War, Plagues, Death, and Disease

(Mesopotamian Pantheon)

"Doing what I am supposed to do!" He answered over the howling winds as Mušḫuššu landed. Both young Gods jumped off his back and raced towards the crowd. "What happened!?" Nergal stared him down, incredulous at the sight before him. Marduk could see the thoughts ruminating in his mind. "Nergal, we don't have time for debating my presence. My father is injured, and it is literally chaos out here! What happened?"

Dammit, Metatron, you interloper. You're going to get our prince AND his father killed! Nergal thought. "We managed to kill Apsu, but Tiamat is on a rampage."

"Where is she?" Nergal pointed to the storm. "There?"

"No…that is her! The water surrounding us is Apsu!" The clouds flashed with green lightning, the wailing resuming but faintly. "Everyone here is trying to recover after just killing Apsu. I don't think we can fight Tiamat the way things are!"

"So you're waiting here to die?!" Sarpanitu asked as she walked past the two towards the injured Ea.

"Of course not! Marduk, we can't move your father at the moment. He's too badly injured!"

"But if you stay…"

"Tiamat will get us."

Marduk looked over to the Gods surrounding his father, then back to Nergal. He turned and looked out to the horizon, seeing the ever-looming storm growing closer. "Nergal, give me your club." Nergal took a step back, his eyes widening.

"Marduk, you're out of your damn mind! You can't just- "

"I'm not! I need everything we have here right now! Over there are the strongest Gods of our people, barely functioning and trying to keep Dad stable! Sarpa can help here, but I need everything we have."

"Why!?" Marduk glared at him without blinking.

"Because someone has to! I am your prince, and I am ordering you to collect all the weapons we have here so I can do my damn duty!"

Nergal's face softened, but he nodded. Without a word, he ran over to the group. Marduk could hear him yelling for their weapons. Each relented, but he also got the one thing he didn't want.

Sarpanitu looked over at him, the revelation hitting her square in the chest as Nergal raced back to him with arms loaded with weapons. A club, bow, and quiver, lightning and fire encircling his arms, while winds flew behind him as he ran. He stopped in front of Marduk.

"This is all we have." Marduk took them all. He slung the quiver on his back along with the bow. Lightning and Fire coursed from Nergal to Marduk as the winds blew and flowed behind the young God. Last, Nergal handed him his stone club. "Please don't do anything more suicidal than what you're doing now. Your father will kill me."

"If he doesn't, I will!" Sarpanitu shoved Nergal aside. "You're going alone!?" Her eyes locked with Marduk's.

"I have to."

"No, you don't! I'm going with you!"

"Sarpa, I am going alone. You must stay here to help the others." He met her gaze unflinchingly. He could see the fear and dread in her eyes. "I am coming back. Never doubt that."

"This wasn't what we thought would happen…" She fought back tears. Marduk rushed to her and wrapped her in his arms.

"My Moon and Stars, that doesn't matter. I need to go." He stepped back. "It's like they say, 'Marduk can do anything.'" He turned and ran to Mušḫuššu. He jumped on his back, and the pair rose into the air. They turned away from the group and flew towards the storm. The wailing returned and grew louder as they headed towards it.

I don't want you to. She couldn't get the thoughts into words. She wanted to scream. Please don't leave me.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

The funnel continued to rise towards the sky as the water vanished into it. Before long, Tadakatsu could feel nothing but dry stone beneath his feet. The water on his body and clothes flew off and into the funnel. Every last drop of water converged there. Tadakatsu pointed his spear down towards the base of the funnel, preparing for what could come next. The water began to glow a bright green and slow down. The figure within it raised its right arm. Suddenly, the funnel contorted and caved in on itself, curving towards the figure's open hand. Faster and faster, the water vanished into itself.

"Randgriz, do you have any idea what's happening?" Tadakatsu asked.

"No, but whatever you do, we must not go near that water." She appeared floating next to him, slightly translucent. "I don't know why…but it feels…"

"Wrong. Very wrong."

She nodded.

"I understand. Then that means one thing." He dashed towards the point of the water's convergence. "We have to finish him before this gets away from us!" He thrust his spear, extending it to its maximum length. The spearhead pierced through the collapsing funnel. Tadakatsu felt it strike something as he heard a hollow clang. He tried to pull the spear back, but it remained in place. What the? It came loose, and Tadakatsu jumped back.

The figure came into view as the last few gallons of water vanished into its hand. It wore Marduk's leather clothes, but they were not bleached white. Its skin was a dirty brown. Sea-green crystals enveloped its shoulders and enlarged forearms. Its legs were reptilian and ended in three clawed toes with more crystals on the top of its feet. Out from under the leather waist robe came a dirty brown tail with muted green webbing. From its human-shaped head sprouted more crystals that enveloped the top of the skull and over the creature's yellow eyes. Its black hair and the lower half of its face were all that was left of Marduk.

Rebirth of Chaos

Imhullu x Wellspring Vault

https://preview.redd.it/pq8bqdu705bh1.png?width=781&format=png&auto=webp&s=0781c9d9c765c809ed9178a3061971c3ae36d67f

He sighed, his voice reverberating through the air. "Not even giving me a chance to finish preparing…" Marduk said.

"In the name of Amitābha, what the hell are you?" Tadakatsu whispered.

"I'll show you." He kicked forward and flew towards Tadakatsu. Mid-dash, Marduk twisted his upper body to the right and fired his fist. Tadakatsu ducked, and Marduk flexed his toe-claws and dug them into the floor, stopping his assault just a meter behind Tadakatsu. He raised his right arm and swung down a hammer fist. Tadakatsu rolled away just in time and retracted his spear down to its shortest form.

Marduk fired another punch. Tadakatsu's Shika Sense screamed. He stepped to the right. Marduk punched with his right. Tadakatsu jumped back, barely escaping the blow's range. Marduk hunched down. Just as he flew forward, Marduk slammed his tail on the ground. Tadakatsu could not react in time to dodge Marduk's right cross. Tadakatsu got his spear in front of it. The force of the blow caused the shaft to flex, and he could feel his shoulders and deltoids nearly ripped off his body. The blow lifted him off his feet and sent him flying into an uplifted boulder. It gave way to Tadakatsu's mass, the blow's strength, crumbling to pieces as he flew through and fell to the ground dozens of meters away.

"This is the power I, alone amongst the Heavens, have mastered," Marduk said as he walked slowly towards the injured Tadakatsu. "The power of the Primordial Beast that terrorized my land. Who threatened my people."

"Well then, who do I hold the honor of fighting?" Tadakatsu grunted out, trying to breathe. "I…don't recognize you and would sure remember someone like you..." He looked up at the score.

"Bad time for jokes."

"It is, but sure as rain you're not Marduk. I'm not the only one who believes that." He pointed his left index finger to the sky.

Marduk looked up at the score.

Marduk 64% Honda Tadakatsu 93%

He shifted his gaze back at his opponent. "That doesn't matter anymore. What does matter…is getting home." Marduk clenched his fists. "Be honored. Not even Tiamat put the fear of death in me as bad as you have."

"I don't take pride in that. Not if it did this." He retorted, full of vitriol. "I thought you were better than this. Too many times…too many times I saw my foes go to such desperate lengths to win. I thought you were different." He glowered at his opponent. You," Tadakatsu readied his spear, aiming it at Marduk, "are just another coward."

Marduk stopped in his tracks. He sighed and rolled his neck and shoulders. I'm sorry. You were right. This isn't a fight anymore. This…is truly wrath. He swung his arms back, palms open. Tadakatsu waited. Marduk swung both arms up in a scooping motion. As his hands sailed into his view, liquid began to seep out of his palms. He flicked his wrists, and two translucent, crescent-shaped blades sailed towards Tadakatsu.

Spear in hand, Tadakatsu swatted them away, feeling the weight of each blade slam against his defense while trying to survive. Marduk swung his arms again, firing several blades. Tadakatsu marched forward, swatting each blade away as he stepped. You nearly killed me. You nearly made my wife a widow and left my son fatherless. Marduk brought his hands together, his palms aimed towards Tadakatsu. I CANNOT FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT! Water erupted from his palms like a fire hose.

"We can't block that!" Randgriz shouted. Tadakatsu nodded and dashed away to the right. The beam of water smashed through uplifted rocks behind him and collided with the dome's wall. It reverberated, and the sky over the two started to crackle and go static.

"W…what is this!? Marduk's water attacks are destroying the spatial boundaries of the dome!" Heimdall shouted. Damn it, we took into consideration potential damage back from Round Seven, but who the hell could've anticipated reality-destroying attacks!? He thought.

Valhalla Arena

Gods' Bleachers

"Mom! Mom!" Nabu said as he lightly shook his mother. Try as he might, Sarpanitu could not be roused from her catatonic state.

I lost him…I truly lost my Sun… She could hear Tiamat's wailing cry as clearly as she did all those millennia ago. Not even death could stop you from taking him from me, Tiamat…Damn you.

Ancient Babylon

Long Ago

"Sarpa!" Marduk yelled, sprinting after Sarpanitu in the tower they called home. The full moon shone through the open windows that lined the floor they were on, and Marduk saw the light shine on her hair. "Please wait!"

"Why should I?!" She yelled. "I followed you to Olympus! I followed you back here! I stood by you through all this damn nonsense! And what do I get?! I watch you leave to fight..."

She stopped.

Marduk stopped a few meters behind.

She turned, and her eyes were full of tears.

"I thought we were a team...I thought you saw me as...your friend. Your partner. You called me your Moon and Stars..."

Marduk took a few steps forward, but kept his distance. "And you are..."

"Not like this." She stared at his chest. "And not with that thing."

Marduk eyed the water sac on his waist. "I can use it. A Primeal Weapon like this will help us even the odds against the Greeks and Norse! I am proving I can take this role on and relieve my parents of their duties!"

Sarpanitu glared at him. "'Marduk can do anything.'"

"You know I hate that damn phrase."

"But you act like it. You can hate it all you want, but you keep acting like it."

"I...I don't want to let anyone down." Marduk walked past her and to one of the windows. "A lot of people expect a lot of me, and after Tiamat, that expectation is growing."

Sarpanitu patted her thigh. "Let me guess: that means you think you've got to do everything. Alone."

Marduk pursed his lips.

"Marduk, I love you. I love you more than...I think I was prepared to."

Her Sun could feel his heart hurting.

"But I don't want you fighting alone. If you think I want you to fight alone, you are wrong beyond reason. If you think they want you fighting alone, you're wrong." She walked up to him and took his hands. "You doing what you do inspires people! Everything you did to defeat Tiamat, I know we could have done together. You're asking too much of yourself. Please let us help you."

Marduk looked into her eyes and felt that terrible fear claw at his soul. He wanted to say no. That he was strong enough to handle it all, so she would be safe. But he couldn't. He knew that saying it would break her heart and push her away.

So he said the best he could muster.

"I...I'll try, Sarpa. And I'll be careful with this weapon. I promise."

Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

"…What the hell is this madness?" Set said under his breath.

"Interesting. It almost looks like a Völund," Hades said.

"A Völund?" Set leaned forward in his chair and eyed Hades. "He absorbed the Wellspring Vault and turned into that monster! How can you call that a Völund!?"

Hades looked at him. Set expected him to look irritated, but was not expecting confused or concerned.

"It's the closest thing I can think of, to be honest. Unlike normal Divine Weapons that simply amplify a God's power, Primeval Weapons carry their own soul. I can only imagine some of Tiamat's soul may still reside in that weapon, which makes combining with it similar to the Völund technique the Humans use."

"…I see." Set leaned back in his chair and continued to watch the fight below.

Hades eyed him out of the corner of his eye while unwrapping a chocolate bar. Why are you so concerned about him? He thought.

"It's a shame, really," Zeus said, grabbing a bag of popcorn. "Marduk was showing great promise up until this point."

"I agree. He carried himself well…but this is too much. Why lower himself to such a state?"

"Does it matter?" Poseidon asked. "The moment he transformed was the moment he threw away what made him the ideal Fighter for this Round." He reached for a bag of fish-shaped fruit snacks and tore it open. "Embarrassing."

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

Marduk looked back up at the scores.

Marduk 59% Honda Tadakatsu 91%

Sarpa, I'm sorry. I know this is not what our people want to see. What our people hope for. Marduk thought. But I must push myself to get back to you and Nabu. What kind of husband and father would I be?!

Still telling yourself that? A voice said in Marduk's ear. It was soft, elderly, sultry, and oddly friendly. For all your posturing about a standard, you're more concerned with being a 'husband' or 'father.' You're barely a hero. Why even try at those?

I am fighting at the moment; please refrain from diverting my attention. Marduk responded in his head.

It wouldn't be a problem for you if you admitted you do too much and quit letting your fear control you. You're as bad as the rest of your kind.

…Maybe, but that's who we are. 

Tadakatsu, landing on his right leg, kicked off the ground and dashed back towards Marduk.

"Goodness," The voice gasped dramatically. "What happened to the God trying to be the standard he touted? Didn't know it goes out the window when you're actually pushed into a corner." Marduk did not retort. Tadakatsu barreled towards him, spear ready. Marduk fired another pressurized blast at him.

My legs can't hold out much longer against this. Tadakatsu thought. I doubt I have too many jumps left in me, but…this might work! Tadakatsu reversed his grip on the spear, its head now pointing behind him. The spear extended and pierced the ground. The shaft shot forward, and Tadakatsu dropped. The spear pierced the ground at a steep angle and pushed him forward.

"He…. he slid under the attack!?" Heimdall yelled.

"Hell yeah, he did!" Naomasa shouted.

Tadakatsu kept his momentum even while sliding. The spear retracted back to its base form; Tadakatsu dug his feet into the stone floor, the momentum lifting him up as he thrust his spear under Marduk's outstretched arm. Marduk snatched the spearhead in his free right hand as he pulled back his left. Tadakatsu extended the shaft backwards, the momentum twisting his body back to the right while his left hand crashed into Marduk's solar plexus. The blow loosened his grip on the spearhead and sent him tumbling back. Tadakatsu stepped forward, spinning his body back to the left in a monstrous spear thrust. Marduk covered his torso with his crystalized arms. The spearhead slammed into his left arm with a loud thump and sent him flying.

I can't let him get away! Tadakatsu lurched forward and ran. Marduk dug his toes into the ground and stopped his momentum. He has me at range! The best I can do is keep him close and break him down. It's time…to break them out. Tadakatsu placed his spear on his back. A small band extended out of it and wrapped over Tadakatsu's torso and prayer beads. "Randgriz, going solo again!"

"No point in saying 'be careful,' then. Do what you do best." She said confidently.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 “Bad time to make a joke?” Pandora asked, her mouth drying from panic.

This is a bad time to talk! AT ALL! FUCKING MOVE! She yelled.

Pandora released her grip and fell. The buzzing clouds washed over the tower’s point, erasing it. They then followed after their target, erasing the tower as they descended.

I don’t think this is a time to punch either.

No shit!

Pandora looked down and landed feet-first, caving in the street. She broke into a sprint.

“Scaaaaaared? Paaaaaaanyyyyy…” A voice echoed amongst the coalescing black clouds.

Pandora looked back, seeing the makings of a smiling face.

“I thought you liked to punch your way out of things…”

Pandora flinched, looked forward, and picked up speed.

 Limos Sperma

Hunger

Far from Pandora’s newest precarious predicament, Eris sat in a small house, filing her nails. In front of her, filling up the room, was a web of roots wrapped around a glowing amber sphere, the contents slowly growing. At the base of the web were several Eris clones, held in place by the roots growing from their bodies. Some screamed, but the roots sticking out of their mouths muffled them.

“I didn’t like the idea of using Limos,” Eris said. “It’s such a brat, but what can you do when your baby is constantly starving?” She shrugged. “But…that’s not something you guys have to worry about.”

“Why…” One of the clones pinned to the wall uttered. “Why…do this…?”

“Well, that’s a pointless question. Why not?”

“We’re…you…”

Eris checked her nails, then blew on them. “No, you’re not. You’re all walking around here acting like it’s a good time while she’s alive.” She rose and walked over to the clone, watching light leave its eyes. “The moment you all didn’t act immediately to kill her, I already knew what you were good for. Fertilizer to make something that could.” She looked over at the embryo. “And you will be perfect for this.”

Valhalla

Mount Aetna

 Hephaestus sat at his table, hunched over and tinkering with a small animatronic. He looked over at Pandora’s room, the door hanging open. He took a deep breath and rose. Slowly, he walked over to the door and walked in.

He tapped the wall, and a few soft ceiling lights came alive, casting a dim glow. Her furniture was the same. Simple, but sturdy wooden furniture painted pastel pink. A dresser, a wardrobe, a makeup table, a work desk with a hard light monitor and keyboard, and a large bed. Three circular pads hung from the wall. As he walked by them, they sprang to life, showing scenes from outside the mountain. The spaces between them were full of pictures. There were some of her and the Valkyries from outings. A few of Pandora and him as she grew throughout the years. Some were of Brünhilde and her, covered in bruises after one of their routine fights.

He paused in front of a small cluster of pictures. They were her with a handsome blonde titan, and Hephaestus could tell, and could not deny it despite his heartbreak, that she was happier in those pictures than in the others.

I’m tryin’, Pan. He thought. I’m still too far away from solvin’ this damn problem. But none of it matters if you don’ come back. I don’ think Epi would want to come back to a world without you.

He turned and looked back at a few other pictures. He huffed and fought a small laugh at one of the few pictures she wasn’t smiling in.

Hephaestus knew from the very beginning and up to now that he was not a perfect father. If there was ever anything Pandora needed, he provided. If she ever felt sad, he never failed to try and make her happy. If she was angry, he tried to pacify her. And so, in his inexperience, he fell into the first of many great traps that all parents fall into.

He enabled his beautiful baby girl to turn into a brat.

 Valhalla

Olympus

The Gymnasion

Eons Ago

 One bright morning, a group of young gods and goddesses encircled their friend, a handsome young god of auburn hair and green eyes, on a bench. In his hands was an ornate, brand-new Xiphos, the double-edged blade sharpened to a razor’s edge. The polished flat of the bronze blade reflected the gods’ beautiful looks as he admired it.

“Wow…” One of the other Gods whispered. “When’d you get that?”
“Last night!” Xihpos’ owner said, smiling. “My parents wanted to get me something for my promotion in Ares’ army.”

“Was it made by Hephaestus?” A Goddess with black hair and brown eyes asked. “I heard anything made by him is unmatched.”

The God scoffed. “Please, that’s just people talking up Lord Ares’ brother. I mean, he’s okay, but he’s nothing like the cyclops that made this.”

“You sure? I heard rumors the Top Gods from other Pantheons reach out for his work.”

“Look, he’s one of Zeus’ sons. Of course people will give him preference. Not like anyone would willingly tolerate his ugly mug if they could choose otherwise.”

Just then, a small black cloud of hair in a dress jumped up on the bench, next to the God. He turned and stared directly into her big red eyes sticking out of a domino mask.

“Uh…hello?”

The child swung and smashed her right fist into the God’s nose, sending him flying several meters off the bench.

She jumped off the bench and ran over to her unconscious target as the rest of the gods looked on in silent shock.

“No way…” One of the Goddesses whispered.

The little girl stopped next to the Xiphos. She wrenched it out of the God’s hand and snapped her red eyes at the crowd. Without looking away, she took it in both hands…and snapped it clean in two. She dropped the pieces, then started flapping her arms while puffing her cheeks.

“Alaseeeer!” She yelled.

“It’s Alastor! The Tiny Terror! She even flaps her arms like the other sightings!”

Alastor kicked the God in the ribs, rolling him over. “Dumbass!” She then sprinted away, flapping her arms. “Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo…”

The crowd stood frozen, gob-smacked by what they witnessed. Some watched the mighty Alastor vanish into a bush, likely hunting her next target.

 A Few Days Later

 “Like my hammer?” A tall, imposing Blonde God of great physique asked a beautiful auburn-haired Goddess. “Got it custom-ordered.”

“I mean…it’s nice,” The Goddess answered, slightly amused. “But what do you plan to use it for?”

“Anyone who picks a fight with me, that’s who!”

“Confident, aren’t we? Who made it?”
“One of the local smiths. That ugly-ass Hephaestus wouldn’t take my request and told me to ‘Piss in magma’ and leave him alone.”

“Gee, wonder why…” The Goddess whispered.

Something poked the God’s leg. He and the target of his half-baked attempt at flirting turned to see the source, eyeing a storm cloud of black hair at his hip.

“What the—”

The girl punched him straight in the nether region. Pain fired onto every corner of the burly God’s body as he curled up and fell to the ground in pain. His grip on his hammer vanished, and it was snatched up and crushed into a ball within that storm cloud's tiny hands.

“Alaseeeeeeeer!” The girl yelled, flapping her arms and puffing her cheeks. She then darted down the street and vanished. “Woo-woo-woo-wooooo!”

Another victim of the Olympus’ newest threat to its domestic peace. Every few days, another victim would appear, knocked out and their weapons, armor, or precious valuables destroyed by Alastor, the Tiny Avenger. Some even thought to bait her out, believing she was a vengeful spirit that destroyed happiness. Others believed it was a rumor meant to keep people from bragging about their material goods. A few claimed she was an omen of ill fortune and that she heralded a great tragedy.

A Few Weeks Later

 An aged Zeus sat at a large circular table, quill-whipping paperwork without so much as a glance as he passed scrolls from his left to his right. Ares sat to his left, reading a scroll through a pair of tiny glasses. Hermes sat to his right, pulled one from a large, neatly stacked pile, and unfurled it.

“Sir,” Hermes said. “It’s happened again.”

“What’s happened?” Zeus said as he placed another scroll on Hermes’ pile.

You’re not reading them again is what’s happening, but that’s for later… Hermes thought. “The citizens are asking for assistance dealing with ‘Alastor.’”

“I thought we already told him to knock it off.”

“Different one, Sir, and he’s been trying to help the citizens track this other Alastor down.”

“One of the Greek Spirits of Vengeance…cannot find another one? Fire him.”

“Sir, we may need to do something.”

Zeus looked up from the scroll he was not reading. “Other than fire Alastor?”

“Gentlemen, allow me,” Ares said, raising his voice. “I have read the reports of this heinous criminal. Over fifteen cases of assault and destruction of property!”

“Sounds like a bunch of people got their money’s worth from pitiful weapons and lack of preparation, but I see what you two mean. Ares, take care of it.”

“I shall! Our people will sleep soundly tonight!”

He turned and departed. Zeus focused back on his next scroll, signing it without reading it. Again. To his right-hand man’s slight amusement.   

 Later That Day

 “Alastor!” Ares yelled, running down the center of the plateia. Far ahead of him, a familiar mess of black hair raced down the street, pumping her arms. “Get back here! You can’t keep attacking people!”

She turned the corner, entering an alley. Ares and two angels followed behind her, but she vanished.

“Sir!” One of the angels said, looking up, eyeing their target climbing up and tearing away the walls. “She’s climbing!” He looked at his near-double. “Let’s cut her off!”

The pair took flight as Ares jumped onto the wall and kicked off.

Then crashed into the opposite wall, falling.

He picked himself up and scanned the area, his face red more from embarrassment than pain.

He crouched down and fired up, reaching the building’s edge and pulling himself up, finally catching sight of his target cornered by the angels.

“Alaseeeeer!” She yelled, flapping her arms and puffing her cheeks.

Ares' eyes widened. “Wait a minute…”

The Angels kept their distance, nets and dull rods in hand.

“You going to try?” One said.
“Are you nuts? The last guy she attacked went to Asclepius for a concussion! She’s too strong for one of us!” The other answered.

“Maybe two of us…”

Ares walked over and pushed them aside, eyeing the ne’er-do-well trying to make herself bigger.

Then, she stopped. Her red eyes lit up with joy.

“HI, UNCLE ARES!” She yelled, still flailing her arms.

Ares felt the color drain from his body. “P….P….PANDORA?!”

She grew a goofy smile with a few teeth missing.

“What’re you doing?! If anyone finds out it’s you….oh, no…”

The angels froze. “Wait, Pandora? As in…Hephaestus’ daughter…and the granddaughter of Zeus and Hera?”

“Shhhh!” Ares uttered. “You guys didn’t see this! We need to get her back to Aetna now!” If anyone finds out it’s Pan, the people are going to riot! And nothing makes Zeus happier than a riot! The image of his father rampaging and fighting back against his subjects sent chills down Ares’ spine.

“No!” She said, still flailing her arms.

“Pandora!”

“No!”

The angels exchanged a glance.

“She sounds like Hilde.”

“I thought she was Hilde. Guess I lost that bet…”

Ares started sweating. “…What if I gave you a candy?”

Pandora froze.

“Three,” She responded.

“One! You’re in trouble! You’re lucky I even offer!”

“Three!”

“One!”

“Four!”

“Why did you go up?!”

The angels exchanged another glance, both thinking. Yeah, she’s like Hilde…

“One!”

“Three and your hat!”

Ares covered his face with his hand. She’s too strong for the three of us to take back. If I don’t convince her to come with us, I’ll lose her in the crowd again! He sighed. “Pan…I need to get you home to your dad.”

Pandora pouted.

“He’s worried about you. If I let you wear my helmet all the way home, will you—”

“Yes!”

Pandora ran to Ares and scrambled up his body, sitting on his shoulders and sliding his helmet over her large poof of hair, obscuring her head.

Ares looked back at the angels.

“This didn’t happen, and you don’t know she’s Alastor.”

“We don’t know a thing,” they answered in unison.

“Alaser!” Pandora said, her voice echoing in the helmet.

Valhalla

Mount Aetna

 “Daddy!” Pan yelled from Ares’ shoulders. The pair walked into the foyer, and Hephaestus turned to see them.

“Well, look who’s home!” He said, rising from his work stool and crossing to meet them. “Been expectin’ you, Panny!”

Pandora jumped down and ran to her dad, helmet still covering her head. She bumped into him and fell back. Hephaestus pulled the helmet off her head and tossed it back to his brother, who gratefully put it back over his blonde buzzcut.

“Now, Pandora. We need to talk.”

“…’Bout what?” She asked, giving him doe eyes.

“Don’ do that. You know what you did.”

She pouted and looked down.

“Ares, mind waitin’ outside?”

“No problem here!” He stepped out of the entrance and closed it behind him.

Hephaestus lifted Pandora and put her on the work stool.

“Pandora, your Uncle told me durin’ your little journeys, you’ve been attackin’ people.”

“I’m just punching them!”

“That’s attackin’ people.”

“…Oh.”

“Now, I don’ want to believe you did it because you’re bein’ mean. I need to know why you were attackin’ people and breakin’ their stuff.”

She stared down, not meeting him in the eye.

“Pandora, if you won’ tell me…” Something caught in his throat. “…I will have to ground you and take your toys.”

She looked straight at him, their matching eyes locked. “But, Daddy! That’s not fair!”

“So is hidin’ stuff from me. I can’ help you apologize to people if you don’ tell me why!”

She started tearing up. “I…I’m sorry.”

Hephaestus squatted down to her eye level. “For what?”

“I attakated them because they…mean things about you.”

Hephaestus fought a smirk. “What’d they say?”

“That your stuff isn’t as good as grandpa says. That the guys in town make better stuff. That you’re…ugly.”

Hephaestus stood and shook his head.

“Pan, I’m sorry you heard that stuff.”

“But they’re mean! I don’t like when they say that stuff about you!”

“I mean I’m—”

Her lip quivered.

Shit. Is this what you were talkin’ about, Metatron? That how we see ourselves can hurt our kids? Fuck, I’m so damn used to sayin’ it…

“I don’t want people saying that stuff…”

“It hurts, doesn’ it?”

Pandora nodded.

“I know. I’ve heard it as long as I can remember. Sad thing is, Pan, if I punched the face of every shitty person—”

“Shitty?”

Damn it, language. Every awful person I had to suffer through, there’d be more broken faces than my works in the Heavens!”

“But…”

Hephaestus scooped her up.

“I can’t make people like me, Pan. I have made incredible things for people who say mean things about me behind my back. Nothing I do will ever make them like me. They’re just…mean. And I don’ need mean people in my life, and mean people aren’ worth my time.”

“So…punching them is bad, even if they’re bad?”

Hephaestus sucked air through his teeth. Gotta word this right. “No.”

“Huh?”

“Some fights aren’ worth fightin’. They’ll always try to tear you down even after you knock their teeth out. Jus’ gives them another reason to be mean. The fights worth fightin’ are against bad people. Like your great-grandpa Kronos. He was bad and mean. Your Grandpa Zeus took him down!”

“Really?!” Her eyes lit up.

“Yep. Actually…do you want to learn how to punch really good?”

She nodded rapidly as she flapped her arms.

“Then no more ‘Alastor.’ Deal?”

“Deal!”

 The Following Day

Isle of The Sun

 “Daaaaaaaad, nnnnnooooooooo…” Pandora groaned, staring up at her future teacher.

“Are you sure about this, Hephy?” Apollo asked. “I mean, I’m not good with kids.”

“You think I am? I’m learnin’ as I go!” Hephaestus said with a wry smirk. “Out of everyone on Olympus, there’s no one I think knows how to handle this, and who would get the most out of it, better than you.”

“Oh? Me?”

“You brought yourself up from nothin’. You put in the effort to join us when no one gave you anythin’. If there’s anyone who can help her build the right kind of mindset, and maybe keep her out of trouble, it’s you. Plus, this could be your chance to become a teacher! I don’ recall you ever doin’ that before!”

“Well…when you put it that way, I think it sounds like a grand idea!”

“…Shitty…”

“Panny!” Hephaestus yelled.

Apollo laughed, then rolled his shoulders. “If that’s what you think, then I’m afraid you’re a bit ugly right now.”

Pandora’s eyes locked on him.

“There it is. If you’re ready and willing, Panny, I’ll help you become beautiful. Once you’re there, everyone will see how beautiful your father is, too.”

Hephaestus rolled his eyes.

“…Really?” Pandora asked.

Hephaestus eyed her.

“Beauty begets beauty, and we must become beautiful so that those around us are beautiful and want to be beautiful as well.”

She won’ understand what the hell you’re sayin… Hephaestus thought.

“Then, let’s get pretty!” She yelled, flapping her arms again.

Apollo flashed a wide grin. “That’s the spirit. Ah! Hephy. Small favor.”

Gotta behave myself. “…Sure.”

Apollo passed him his tablet. “Take a picture of us. Today’s the first day of our training, and I want to see how we improve!”

Hephaestus shrugged and smiled, then took a few steps and aimed it at the pair. Apollo wore his classic smirk while Pandora scowled, trying to look tough.

 Valhalla

Mount Aetna

Present

 Hephaestus took the picture off the wall, noticing the fading color around the photo's edges under the frame.

One of the few pictures you didn’t smile for, Pan. He thought. But I know why. I never asked you to fight my battles, Pan. I wish you didn’, but…thank you.

 Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 “Paaaaaaanyyyyy,” The horde of Limos said. “Weeeeee just waaaant too plaaaaay…”

“I know I can be rough, but this is ridiculous!” Pandora said, sprinting down the street. “They’re eating everything!”

She turned and sprinted past a small gaggle of Pandoras running towards Limos. One of them jumped towards it and vanished once it enveloped her. Two more followed suit, and both vanished instantly.

Pan, they’re not stopping! Geirölul yelled. And all the clones can’t stop trying to attack it! Those damn bugs are eating them faster than they can explode!

Damn it! Did she plan this?! Pandora thought. Was she trying to see what worked with the others?!

No time to worry! We need to find a way to avoid these things!

Unless there’s something they CAN’T eat, we’re running out of time!

Something they can’t eat…wait, Pan! I got an idea!

 Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

 “She is figuring out how to counter Pandora,” Set said. “A Chrysógonoi so numerous she cannot punch them all away, and one so hungry they devour anything, even the clones, in their path. Fascinating…”

“I don’t know where she got that bizarre power, but I can tell you one thing. She inherited my wit,” Nyx said, her somber tone carrying a tinge of pride. “Otherwise, such a power would be wasted. Out of all my children, she was unrivaled in her work ethic and determination.”

“Really? I was not aware.”

“You wouldn’t be, with how she acts. She used to pour her heart into everything. Now…” Nyx shook her head. “…She’s nothing like my daughter. Yet, here we are, and Pandora’s still shining like she always does. Proud, Apollo?”

Apollo smiled brightly. “Absolutely! Despite everything, Pan is still doing her best and staying true to herself. I could not ask for a better student.”

Nyx smiled. “She’s a wonderful woman, and her father better be proud of her.” She glanced at Set. “You tell Hera I said that and I will deny everything.”

“I do not know what we are talking about,” Set said.

“Hmm.”

“But something bothers me. I did not know Eris before her crimes and the Circles. Was she that different?”

“In some ways. And Pandora came along and changed everything.”

 Olympus

Eris’ Apartment

 A knock came from Eris’ door. She rose, disheveled and in dirty robes, from her cot and walked over to it. She opened the door and felt the mixture of panic and irritation only a parent can cause.

“Hello, Eris,” Nyx said, slightly irate. “You haven’t visited me in the past few with the rest of the kids. Not feeling well? Certainly don’t look it.”

“…What do you want?” Eris mumbled.

“I’ll answer if you let me in.”

Eris rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting her mother in.

“Good sweet night,” Nyx whispered.

Piles of robes and clothes littered the apartment. Dishes stacked high on the countertops. Stains of different colors and textures littered the floor and walls. A moldy, sick smell permeated the room.

Nyx’s face instinctively scrunched up as she walked around. “What…what happened?”

“Nothing happened…”

“I am old, but not blind, dumb, or unable to smell. How long have you lived like this?”

“…When was my last race?”

The math struck Nyx as soon as she thought it. Three weeks.

“You’ve been living like this since? Why?!”

“…Because what’s the point?”
“The point? The point?! The point is it’s your standard! It’s how we show ourselves we matter! We take care of the things that are important to us—including ourselves!” Her eyes darted around the space, catching sight of the pile of medals, trophies, and placards. “You earned these!” She walked over and grabbed a medal from the pile, feeling the dust under her fingers. “This was the medal from your last race! First place! You beat Nike, and Athena couldn’t keep up with you! You broke the current record!”

“…It doesn’t matter…”

“Says who, Eris?! Because they are wrong! I had enough faith in you to let you leave home earlier than the others because I knew what you were trying to achieve! Is this it?!”

“I said…it doesn’t matter…”

“Apparently not if you care so little for your own accomplishments.” She nodded. “That’s it. You’re coming home.”

Eris shook to life. “W-what?”

“You can’t live like this. We’ll come back every other day and clean up until it's nice again. This is unacceptable for you!”
“That temple is unacceptable…” Eris whispered.

Nyx was taken aback. “…Excuse me?”

Eris looked away.

“Don’t look away. I heard what you said.”

Eris faced her mother, her pitch-black eyes staring daggers at her.

“That temple, your childhood home, where you cried in my lap after losing so many competitions so poorly you almost gave up, is unacceptable? The place that will always be your home is ‘unacceptable?’

“Mom…that’s not what I meant,” Eris said.

“Then explain yourself.”

“I’m…just in a rut. I lost my drive. I…I can’t stop trying to…”

“Trying to what? Win? You’re winning now! I heard sponsors want to offer you deals!”

“I’m not doing this for that anymore. I’m…I’m trying to beat someone.”

“Who? Who has you like this? Not Nike or Athena?”

Eris shook her head. “Pandora.”

Nyx felt the wind leave her sails. Her anger grew so great it cascaded and lost all its power. “Hera’s granddaughter?”

Eris nodded.

“What has she done to you? Has she insulted you? Demeaned you?”

Eris shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Her grandmother is the least favorite friend I spend nearly every week with. Humor me.”

“Do you…know what it’s like? To have someone you have never defeated? Never once beat in a legitimate thing? That every time you won the big prize, it was because SHE WASN’T THERE?!” Suddenly shouted. “EVERY. DAMN. TIME, MOM! I can’t enjoy anything because the only reason I have it is that she’s not there stealing from me because her father made her to be fucking perfect! What the hell did she do to earn those things?! What?! Exist! That’s what!” Tears poured from her eyes. “I feel like every time I see her…I just want to crawl in a hole.”

“She…barely competes in anything, Eris…they don’t matter to her,” Nyx said softly.

“I NEED HER TO CARE! I NEED TO BEAT HER! AND I WILL NOT GO BACK TO THAT FUCKING SHITTY TEMPLE UNTIL I WIN! I REFUSE TO HIDE THERE, ACCEPTING PEOPLE FORGET ME LIKE—”

She stopped.

Nyx let a tear run down her cheek.

“Mom, I—”

Nyx raised her hand. She then walked past Eris, through the open door, and left.

 Asgard

Odin’s Study

A Few Months Ago

 A knock came from the door as Odin pored over an open book resting on his table. He looked up from his latest read, but ignored it and resumed reading.

Another few knocks rattled against the heavy wooden door, but Odin ignored them, too.

Another knock sent the door flying off its hinges straight towards him.

Odin raised his right hand and caught it by the edge before it could hit him. He placed it to his right, then turned to the entrance.

Standing on the other side of the table, eyeing him in cold fury, was Týr.

“Father,” Týr said, barely above a whisper.

“Trying to pick a fight with me now?” Odin asked. “Did not know you when you grew so bold.”

“Hard to take your friend getting accused of dracoside when the only proof is Loki’s word.”

“You need to take that up with him and not waste my time or my patience.”

“I thought fathers were supposed to make time for their kids.”

Odin rose. “You forget your filial piety, boy.”

“Haven’t humored that in ages. None of us has, so don’t pretend it exists.”

Odin’s aura exploded outward, drowning the room. The shelves crumbled into pieces. The table between father and son cracked and turned to dust. Dark energy swirled into Odin’s hand, forming into Gungnir.

Perfect. Týr thought. “I bother you, and this is how you respond? Blowhard.”

Odin raised his spear.

Týr stepped forward, jabbing his finger through his father’s overwhelming aura and tapping his chest.

“Tiwaz Thrigjarra Thraut,” Týr uttered.

Purple energy erupted from the spot, enveloping them both. Odin’s aura vanished instantly, and he froze in place. Gungnir twisted and vanished out of his hand.

“You…ROTTEN…” He uttered.

“Congratulations, Odin. Surprised?”

Odin’s eye wore a look that could burn a hole through Týr’s head.

“Take that to mean ‘yes.’ Never really paid attention to anyone but Thor. Oh well.”

“Release me, and you might survive.”

Týr blinked. “Do…do you hear yourself? ‘Release me, and you might survive?’ Make me release you.”

Odin strained and struggled, but nothing.

“You can’t transform or use your Galdor either. However, you might get free if you answer my questions.”

“WHAT?!”

“Answer three questions. It’s easy. But there are rules. I am a God of Rules after all.”

“You dare—”

Týr clapped his hands, drowning out his words.

“Shut up already. Let’s get started.”

How…how is this possible?! Odin thought.

“Answer three questions. You've got sixty seconds to answer each one. If you lie, you lose your powers for twenty-four hours. Refuse to answer, and you instead lose your powers for one year. Do either of the first two or a combination of them three times, you lose your powers permanently."

“I will not humor this!”

“But you’re stuck here.”

“Do you think you can force me to do anything?!”

Týr nodded. “I am right now. First question: Do you genuinely believe Loki? Without any evidence whatsoever other than his word?”

“You…” Odin’s face contorted into a furious scowl.

“Stop being obtuse about this. If you’re going to devolve into a snarling dog, at least learn how to speak. Forty seconds.”

Odin squinted.

“Are…are you so obstinate that you’d rather lose all your power than answer—”

“I didn’t.”

A soft chime rang in Týr's head.

The fuck what? Týr’s jaw hung in shock. “But…you still imprisoned Siegfried in Tartarus!”

“Of course I did.”

Týr’s hands clenched. “So…I now have proof you had no evidence.”

“Where? I don’t see anything capturing this.” Odin smiled. “Next question.”

Týr froze. Oh…oh no. “Why do you still keep him imprisoned if there’s no proof?”

Odin’s smile vanished.

“Time’s running.”

The seconds passed between them. Each one ticking slowly by. Týr’s heart raced with each passing moment as his father stared him down.

He answered one, so he can’t die, but I know he’s hiding something! Is it so dangerous that he would risk this?! I know I didn’t tell him every rule, but still! That’s supposed to be a trick!

“You sure about this? Is it worth hiding?”

Odin did nothing.

A horn blared in Týr’s mind, and the purple aura vanished.

“Wow…that’s it.”

Odin smiled, his grin stretching across his face to his ears. “Time’s up, Týr.”

He nodded. “It is, but not for me.”
Odin’s smile faded. He looked at his empty hand, as if something should be there.

“Sorry, but I kind of cheated. I’m charitable, not stupid.”

The Tiwaz Rune appeared on his head.

“You only answered one question. Time for the penalties.”

Odin stepped forward, grabbing for Týr’s neck.

Týr slapped his hand away, then fired a right punch into his solar plexus, shooting him into the wall. Odin slid down as pain coursed through him.

“For failing to answer my questions, you are not allowed to kill or impair me per that Rune. You cannot act against me. Keeping it vague so you can’t work around it. Learned that from Loki. For failing to answer two questions, I can impose a limit on your power.” Týr walked over to his father and stared down at him. “I’m charitable. I’ll let you have use of…three Galdor. Only three. And it’s the only three you’ll ever have again.”

Slowly, Odin rose, towering over his son.

“Oh, and just in case something happens, if I die, be ready to suffer another penalty.” Týr smiled and turned around. “Loved the father-son chat, Dad.”      

The Heavens

Eden

Mountain Biome

 Odin felt something warm on his forehead.

One thing I never learned from you, father. A familiar and frustrating voice said. And that was how to keep a promise.

He reached his left hand up and tapped it, and his eyes widened in fury.

You useless brat! He thought.

I’m still charitable, though. I consider that a gift from Metatron.

Odin’s face contorted into a scowl.

But don’t worry. I’m sure Hades won’t figure it out! I’m sure you picked the right Galdor to use for the rest of your miserable life. If I’m dead well…you don’t want to know. If you see Sieg and Hilde…actually, I hope you don’t. Good luck, ‘father.’ It was not fun talking to you again.

TYYYYYYYR! He roared in his mind.

Odin twirled Gungnir, then reached his right arm back.

I only need three to destroy this worm!

“NÍUNDI GALDOR: VINDSKǪGGULL!”

Runes and energy wrapped around Gungnir, and Odin tossed it.

Hades grit his teeth and gripped his bident just below the spearhead. His right foot stepped forward, and he swung overhead, letting the Bident’s shaft slide through his grip.

“PERSEPHONE-TITAN!”

The thrown spear and swung bident crashed into each other, and the displaced air knocked everything away. Metatron scooped up his helmet and tried lying flat on the ground, but the gale scooped him up and threw him.

Hades’ eyes widened as his swing sent Gungnir flying and buried the Bident’s head. He kicked it, dislodging it, and dashed at Odin.

“Persephone-Lore!”

“Fimmti Galdor: Fafnir!”

Hades’ thrust smashed into the Rune-covered shields. Odin felt the force course through it, and he pushed against it, his feet skidding back as the shield started cracking.

Gods are not supposed to be this strong! Odin thought. They don’t deserve to be this stron—

The bident pierced through the shield and impaled Odin through the chest. He gripped it with both hands and swung it hard to the right.

“Persephone-Hemera!” Hades threw Odin off the bident towards the mountainside. He smashed through like an arrow.

“Do not look down on me just because you got Gungnir back!” Hades yelled. He heard something whistling behind him and ducked down. Gungnir flew overhead, almost skewering him as it flew towards its master.

“Damn, I can’t let him heal!”

Gungnir flew into the hole.

Odin flew out, fully healed, towards Hades.

They both thrust their spears, sending more shockwaves out and dislodging rubble from the valley and surrounding mountains. They both sailed back and landed on their feet.

Hades breathed heavily, eyeing Odin.

He healed faster than—wait. He squinted.

There were the faintest of cracks at the two spots in Odin’s armor where he stabbed him.

No. He didn’t fully heal. Why? Is he desperate? Wait, the throw from earlier. He rolled the bident between his fingers. It wasn’t as strong as the one before.

Odin bared his teeth and readied Gungnir.

Is…is he getting weaker?

 Jörð Arena

Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall

 Far from the fated reunion, Lugh walked down the curved passage, feeling each step grow heavier the closer he got to his assigned entrance. As he walked, he rolled Assal’s shaft in his left hand, feeling the smooth gold on his fingertips.

Please no more surprises… He thought. I just want to get to the hall. Fighting feels easier than I’ve been doing…

He then pictured Macha and Nuada holding something. Something Lugh could find no words to describe, except that the sight of it made him feel that holding it in his hands would crush him.

Then, he stared down at his right hand. The same hand he gripped Marduk’s with. That same hand, beaten and bruised, that exchanged fists and farewells with a monster of a man.

But I now understand why. Guess I can’t be too upset.

He clenched it tight, raised his head, and continued.

As he turned the corner to the hall entrance, he saw a familiar sight: Nuada and Macha, standing at the door. The pair saw him, and their eyes lit up.

His brow raised. “Uncle? Aunt Macha? What’re you two doing here?”

“We were waiting for you,” Nuada said. “It didn’t feel proper to have you do this alone!”

“We can’t go out there and fight with you, but we can at least do this!” Macha added, smiling. “We…also need to talk with you.”

“…Sure. About what?” He asked, feeling a small weight hit his chest.

“Lugh, we’re…” Nuada cleared his throat. “We’ve been talking.”

Oh no… He thought.

“We’re not great at things like this. We…were never planning to be…you know.”

“Our jobs and the protection of Eire were demanding,” Macha added. “We both went through a lot, and it took…a lot from us.”

Lugh nodded.

“And so, we were worried…” Macha started tearing up. We weren’t able to give you enough, or what you need.” Her lip quivered a little. “So we’re sure you…” She blinked a few times. “You understand that we probably weren’t the best with you.”

Lugh shot her a puzzled look.

“After what happened to Cian,” Nuada said, forcing a smile. “We didn’t think it was right to leave you alone, especially with why Cian was taken from us. But that didn’t mean we were qualified! I mean, ruling and fighting are one thing!” He huffed a little. “Being a parent is a whole other challenge.”

Lugh smiled. “I mean, you guys weren’t perfect, but you did the best you could!” He looked to the right, looking out the window. “I just hope I was worth it.”

“Lugh.”

He focused on Nuada.

“We have made so many mistakes, but adopting you was never one of them. ” Nuada shook his head. Macha reached for his right hand and held it. “I made so many mistakes. Many of them affected you, and that’s not right. I…” He cleared his throat. “We…adopted you because we realized that the Eire we were building was not what we wanted it to be and you deserved better.”

Macha nodded. “Bres and Balor—”

“Please stop,” Lugh said, raising his left hand. Gently, he placed Assal on the ground. He walked over to the pair and looked them in the eyes.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around them and pulled them into a hug. “Please don’t apologize.” I can’t stand seeing you two like this. His fears washed away as he held them. “I…can’t even begin to say thank you. I don’t know how to, for everything you two did.”

Macha and Nuada slowly wrapped their arms around each other and their son.

“Everything I have is because of you two.” He felt the weight of his world in his arms. “I am only who I am because you two were there.”

He remembered that day. When he was a small godling, standing alone in that house. The overwhelming silence that stole the joy from its walls, like the bitterness that took his father. He remembered the pair appearing shortly after, walking through the threshold. With but a few words spoken, they scooped him up and took him to Tir Na Nog, his future home.

His hold tightened just a little. “I’m sorry if I ever made you two feel like I didn’t love you. I just wanted to give back to you everything you gave me.”

They broke their embrace, and Nuada placed his right hand on Lugh’s shoulder. “Never. We…we don’t know what’s on your mind, Lugh, and we wish we could help you.”

“It’s why we asked Marduk and Sarpanitu to meet with you,” Macha said. “They’re better at this than we are.”

Lugh let out a small laugh. “I think Nabu would argue that, but I understand. They did help, but I need you two to understand something.”

The pair stayed quiet.

“I didn’t do all this, go through all that training, and deal with all that bitterness back home because it was my duty.” Lugh smiled, letting a few tears run. “I did it because Eire’s my home! It’s where you two are. It’s where Brigid, Epona, Ogma, and everyone else are. I love my home, warts and all, and I want to fight for it. Protect it. Like you two did.”

“By All, I hope you do a better job,” Nuada said.

“I will.” Lugh’s expression hardened. “I promise. But if I do that right, that means I am stuck with you two for a while longer!” He smiled again. “And I’d like that.”

“Aaaaah,” Macha said. “And here I thought we’d get to travel. Shame…”

“A good son is humble enough to know when he needs his parents, right? And wise enough when he needs to do things on his own.”

Nuada nodded. “We can at least walk with you up to the exit.”

“I’d like that.”

Nuada and Macha turned, walked up to the double doors, and pulled them open.           

“Oy! The hell took you so long?!” A woman’s voice roared through the growing crack.

Lugh stood, frozen.

In the hall, lining both sides as far as he could see, were familiar faces. The closest to his left was a Goddess with brown horse ears and tail, her brown vest and white shirt pristine, paired with black trousers. Her red eyes carried that same smug look, but now with a hint of warmth.

“Epona,” Macha said sternly.

Epona looked away, and Ogma, standing across from her, snorted, covering his mouth, his wheat-colored moustache and goatee with his free hand, while he held something covered in a blue cloth.

“Behave yourself,” Nuada said, matching his wife.

Ogma lightly bowed, still smiling.

Standing next to him, in her green dress, was Brigid, smiling warmly at Lugh.

“Uncle, what’s going on?” Lugh asked.

“Ogma,” Nuada said, beckoning him. Ogma walked over and passed the object to him. He bowed, then stepped back to the wall. Nuada pulled the cloth off, and Lugh’s heart accelerated.

It was a simple, silver crown with two long prongs. A simple crown that weighed more than Lugh could describe. In Nuada’s hands, it seemed so light. Almost boring, even.

I’m sorry, Lugh. For the first time in a long time, we had to lie. “Face me, Lugh,” Nuada whispered as Macha stepped next to him. Every God and Goddess in the hall, of all shapes and forms, kneeled.

Lugh looked down the passage for a few seconds that stretched into eternity. He turned to the pair who were his parents in all the ways that mattered, and knelt.

“I, Nuada Airgetlam, Supreme and Chief God of the Celtic Pantheon: Of The Tuatha De Dannan, of The Gauls, and of The Welsh, have summoned all those who stand under my banner. Today, we stand in the presence of our new King. A King forged by our hands, united by the dream of peace.” Nuada stared down at the crown, then at Lugh.

“Lugh Lamfada, son of Cian and Ethniu.”

My boy. Our boy. He thought.

“You have stood shoulder-to-shoulder with many here today. You have saved their lives, grown alongside them, laughed with them, and mourned with them. There are many here who would not be alive were it not for you.”

How can I help you see that you’ve already done so much? That any soul would be blessed to have you for a son?

“Kings and Council deem you worthy to wear this crown. To be the next ruler of our people.”

That any land would be blessed to have you as a King?

“Much has been given to you, and much, if not more, is expected.”

The fools among us who cling to hate are a minority. We have given everything we can to you.

“To protect this land and her people.”

I am so sorry so much is asked of you. I know you fear the unknown. I know you’re scared of something happening to us because of something you may do. That fear is monstrous, and I know it too well.

“To guide them in dark times, and live in the joy of the moment.”

The fact that you feel that way for us fills me with so much pride I can’t stand it! I failed as a King, but you! You showed us we could still succeed as parents and raise a better King than all the ones before you!

“And so…today…” Nuada stepped forward, struggling to keep his kingly bearing. He felt the yearning. To hold it. To keep it from potentially crushing his chosen son.

Thank you for being our boy, because you, and only you…

Slowly, gently, he rested the crown over Lugh’s brow.

I trust only you with this.

“Rise.”

Slowly, Lugh rose. He stood tall and extended his right hand. Assal wiggled, then flew right into his grip. He dropped his hand.

The three of them turned to face the hall.

“I present to you all! King! LUGH! LAMFADA!”

The hall…roared. Roared so loudly that the thick walls could not deafen it. So loudly the crowds of Gods above them could feel their seats shake under them. A roar of pure joy and triumph.

And all Lugh could do was stand there, taking it in. He breathed deeply and took his first steps into the hall. He took them all in: their cheers, their joy, and their hope. Brigid pulled him into a strong, strangling hug before cupping his face, feeling his ears. His fear vanished as she smiled and mouthed. I believe in you and make us proud.

He bit his lip and nodded, fighting back tears. He stepped away and walked down the hall. As his people slapped his back or tussled his hair, a young Goddess with deep black hair tied up in a ponytail and her eyes perpetually closed, stepped up to him and placed something in his left hand. She whispered something in his ear, but he couldn’t understand what she said. Yet, he could feel her hands gripping his left and knew the weight of them. Three other young Goddesses pulled her back, all cheering for him as he walked. He pocketed what she gave him as he walked down that hall.

Walked to face his first greatest challenge as King.

Walked the path that he could not turn back from.

Nuada and Macha watched him go down the hall, but it soon became too much. The pair walked away from the hall, far from their people. Lugh was king now, but expectations are expectations.

Far from the cheers and hopes of their people, Nuada and Macha allowed themselves that one grace they could share with only each other, the one person they trusted more than anyone else.

Macha fell to her knees and cried, but no sound came out as the tears fell. Nuada knelt next to her, wrapping her in his arms, and wept.

 The Heavens

Eden

Mountain Biome

 Far from the coronation, Odin exhaled. I was right. He’s not stronger. He felt pain’s shock from his two new wounds. Týr’s trick is weakening me even more! Of course, you couldn’t defeat me. He leered. But I can’t keep this up. I don’t know if using the Galdor more will weaken them, or if it's time. Týr’s been dead for a few hours, so it’s more likely the former. I may have to use them, but doing that will…no. No. If it means Metatron dies, and I can put an end to all of this, it will be worth it!

Odin smiled again. “Hades,” He said. “You will—"

“No talking!” Hades rushed forward. “Persephone-Lore!”

Odin swung Gungnir up, parrying it.

“Bad move!” Hades gripped the bident with both hands and brought it back down. Persephone-Sphyrokópos!

Odin raised Gungnir and blocked the strike. The blow hammered him into the ground, burying his legs.

UPSTAAAAAAAART! Odin roared in his mind.

Hades jumped back, then jumped high, preparing another stab.

“Persephone-Kallichoron!” He shot back down, Bident aimed right at Odin’s head. “Heal from this!”

Odin snarled. Now!

Bone erupted out of Odin’s head. No. Something made of bone swam out of his head, sitting atop his skull. The bident struck it, and vibrations poured out of the point of contact.

Hades jumped back as a pair of rings flowed out of Odin’s chest and floated around him. Two ghostly arms extended out of the rings and connected to Odin’s back, the rings sitting firmly on their wrists. The spectral hands touched the ground. The first below them turned to mush, and they lifted Odin out of it.

Far away, Metatron saw the moment transpire and felt hope slowly die.

Those are…Draupnir: Chaos’ Alchemical Bracelets?! He thought. And Satan’s Helmet, Egil! He did have them?! “Hades!” He yelled. “Forget fighting him! He is using Yggdrasil’s weapons!”

Hades sighed. Too late for that. He’s not going to let me escape.

“You…will regret halting our progress, God…” Odin said, his voice reverberating.

Hades’ eyes widened.

Odin appeared right in front of him and tapped his chest with his finger. “Egil: Skelfibylgja (Trembling Wave).”

Vibrations flooded through Hades body and fired him back. His feet skid against the ground until he came to a stop, covered in tears and coughing up blood.

“The tremble of fear is natural when facing us. Your body is so terrified of us that our mere touch causes you to shudder and flee, tearing your own body apart to get away!”

Black Stars floated out of his body, growing and encircling and floating around his neck. A jagged edge erupted out of his left hand, turning into a sword. Odin grasped it firmly.

“The Necklace of Ymir, Brisingamen, and Odin’s sword…Gram,” Metatron whispered.

He has all four! Set yelled in Metatron’s head. When?!

“It does not matter. We are doomed.”

Hades rolled his shoulders. He scanned the floor around, seeing his blood everywhere.

Perfect.

Hades slammed the pommel of his bident on the ground. All the blood around and on him floated up and flew around the bident before encasing it. The prongs bent, stretched, grew, and combined into a large, silver point.

“Ichor Desmos!” He roared. “Fear, huh? Well, what do you know. To think I could feel fear over something so trivial.”

“Trivial? A sign of your ignorance.”

“Hmm. I read about Yggdrasil. I was hoping for something more…substantial.”

“Then allow us to live up to our reputation!”

Odin started floating a few inches above the ground, then rocketed towards Hades. Odin thrust Gungnir, and Hades matched with Ichor Desmos.

The tops of the surrounding mountains tore away. Metatron stabbed his arm into the ground, nailing himself in place as the wave of air washed over him, destroying his eardrums. Blood poured from his ears, and he passed out.

Hades pushed through and sent Odin back, the skin on his palm tearing away as he tried pushing Desmos through. Odin flew back, landed, and sneered.

“You are strong, God!” He said. “Strong enough to survive two blows from us!”

“I have no use for your flattery!” Hades roared.

“We do not waste praise on the weak. Why not join us?”

“And do what? Slaughter the rest of the cosmos?!” Hades twirled Desmos and charged. “Ichor…EOS!” He thrust.

The eight stars making up Brisingamen lined up in front of Odin, intercepting the thrust. They spun and vibrated, sending waves through the Bident.

Damn…IIIIIIT! He thought as he pushed through the fear and pain.

“You decline our offer? Decline the divine privilege and rite of destruction, only we, the strongest, possess? You are strong in body, but weak in mind.”

The stars vibrated faster, then shot forward, knocking Desmos away and slamming into Hades, sending him into a distant mountainside.

Odin stared off into the distance where Hades flew. Then, he scanned the valley and found his target.

“Wonderful.”

He vanished and reappeared, floating above Metatron’s unconscious body.

“We remember you. We remember your strength, Metatron. We had hoped you would understand why we did what we did. Alas, you are still the soft-hearted fool who bent to Gǫllnir’s whimsy, and Eir and Eirin’s kindness. What has that gotten you?”

Odin raised his hand. The stars floated high above him and started vibrating.

Please wake up, Metatron! Set yelled. I know I can undo the Völund, but damn it, I can’t abandon you like this!

“Farewell…old friend.”

PLEEEEEEEEEASE!

The stars shot down.

Right towards Vidarr, standing over Metatron, his helmet in Vidarr’s large palm. They vanished just before the stars tore through everything below them.

Suddenly, a massive boulder smashed into Odin’s left side. He looked over, eyeing Michael surrounded by a small colony of boulders.

“One of his little projects?” Odin said.

“One of his sons, you callous barbarian,” Michael uttered through gritted teeth. He clapped his hands together, and bright yellow wings made of energy burst out of his back. “Maṭṭar Avnīn (Rain of Stones)!”

Far from the new conflict, Vidarr reappeared on a small jut, breathing heavily, and laid Metatron down and put his helmet next to him. “I got them!” He yelled. “Shit, that still takes a lot out of me…”

Arthur and Sigfried rushed over. Arthur knelt and placed his hands over his old foe. “Vidarr, get Sieg down to help Michael. Michael’s nowhere near as strong as he needs to be. Then, grab Hades and get him here.”

Vidarr and Siegfried nodded. The pair locked eyes, and Vidarr placed his hand on Sieg’s shoulder. “Here we go…” The pair vanished.

Set, can you hear me? Undo the Völund. I can’t heal him properly if you’re still linked to him.”  

He’s insane if I’m going to believe him.

“I was stuck in a cave for almost fifteen hundred years. Could anyone stay perfectly sane?”

…You can hear me?

“More importantly, do you trust me?”

…

The helmet started glowing. The light glowed and expanded, revealing a God in old Egyptian robes, his once bald head now covered in long black locks.

“Can you save him?!” Set asked.

“I can, please wait.” Arthur started chanting in his mother tongue. Energy flowed from his hands over Metatron’s body as blood started flowing from Metatron’s chest.

Then, the flow slowed, and Metatron’s eyes fluttered as the pain and aches of old wounds started fading. They slowly opened, and he squinted towards a familiar face resting his hands over Metatron’s chest near that familiar wound.

“Sorry, we took so long to get here,” Arthur said. “It should not be long until you’re back in good shape.”

“….Ar….thur?” Metatron whispered.

He nodded as several booms and explosions littered the distant air.

“Let’s hope they can hold him until we can join the fray.”

Jörð Arena

Outer Halls

 

Rommie! Apologizing ahead of time!

Romulus sighed as he read the message on his tablet.

Damn it, Buddha. He thought. What’re you doing?

“Something wrong, Sir?” Summanus asked as Romulus typed away.

What’re you planning?

Nothing you need to worry about.

You know I will, regardless.

Are you still upset about the Chapel?

No, but we got lucky. Extremely lucky.

I’m not going to take that as a sign to stop. You know me! When I feel the desire to do something, I do it!

Romulus sighed as he pocketed the tablet.

“Buddha’s doing something again,” He answered. Romulus eyed the gladius at his hip. Mold, he might make things worse.

He hasn’t yet! Trust him. She said in his mind.

Easier said than done with him.

…Good point.

Jörð Arena

Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall

 

“Macha, you sure this is the right side?” Nuada asked, leaning against the wall.

“Nu, you asked me twice now,” She answered, sitting on the bench next to him. “The sign above the doors says 'East Gate.’”

Nuada looked up again and grimaced.

“Your worrying is making me worry,” She said. “Marduk and Sarpa told us they found him, and they talked. Got an earful from them, but they said he’s on his way.”

“After Romulus challenged him.” Nuada shook his head.

“You’d think he’d be more hesitant to fight him.”

“Romulus, in all the years we’ve known him, never hesitated. It’s both impressive and sheer stubbornness.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” Macha said, eyeing him.

“Same, but I never held it against you,” He said, smiling.

Macha love-tapped his right forearm. She leaned forward, lowering her head.

“Nu?”

“Don’t say it.”

She closed her eyes. “It haunts me, you old goat. Please let me.”

Nuada looked down at her and gently rubbed her back.

“If you’re beating yourself up, I won’t let you. Not now, not ever.”

“It’s not that…I just…” He felt her tense up under his palm. “Our boy…what if…what if all this is too much for him?”

“Was it for us?”

 Eire

Eons Ago

 Long before the Stables. Long before the Heavens as they are now known. The choices that would one day answer Nuada's question began here.  

In a large open field, stars hung in the night sky above, and one young goddess stood before the first crossroads of her life.

And they were not pleased with her.

You are the godling who hears us?! The Black Stallion spoke, staring down a young Macha, her green eyes full of horror and awe.

To the Stallion’s right, the White Pegasus stared daggers at her, stretching its wings as the Red Unicorn to the Stallion’s left huffed fire from its nostrils. Behind the Godling, the Pale Hippocampi lowered its head just above her left shoulder, its cold and wet body filling her with dread by its presence.

“I…I do,” She whispered, her voice almost stifled by their presence.

Coward! The Red Unicorn roared in her mind as it neighed. She hears, but does not carry herself! Unworthy!

She is to hold the Office, yet stands before us so…diminished? The Pegasus said. Are we to accept this as an insult from Metatron and send her back as we deem fit?

Not necessary. The Hippocampi purred. He has his reasons. Maybe there’s something about her that’s intriguing, or not. Maybe she’s a sacrifice?

Enough prattling! The Stallion roared, forcing the other three into silence. Child! State your name!

Macha looked to her right.

Do not seek his comfort! He put you here because he has faith in you!

She turned back to the Stallion, confused.

To stand here, to hear us, means there is potential. We acknowledge your presence, but NOT your bearing. You must prove you are worthy!

“What must I do?” She asked.

Be willing in your bearing and execute the Office! If you are unworthy, you will know!

Macha locked eyes with the stallion.

I…I don’t know if I want this… She thought.

All want Power and Authority! The Pegasus spoke. It is the consequences they shirk from! A typical being: Desire but no discernment.

“Hey!” Macha yelled, trying to sound brave. “I could have said no to all this!”

That sickly chill grew. The Hippocampi’s head touched her shoulder.

Then why didn’t you? It asked.

“Because…because I want to help everyone.”

Help?! The Red Unicorn roared. This Office does not ‘help!’ It is a duty! You are not ‘helping’ by doing your duty! The other is going above and beyond this station!

The Stallion stomped.

I will not reprimand a third time. It spoke.

The other three fell silent again.

We are not here to cater to your whims. We have a mission. We ARE a mission. To hold the Office is not ‘helping.’ It is ‘doing.’ Do you understand?

“I…I don’t, but if I don’t do it, what happens?” She asked.

Are you thinking up possibilities?

She nodded.

They are paltry to the horrors that will run wild should we be left unfocused. Unused.

She felt dread wash over her as countless images and atrocities, real and imagined, washed over her. He…was in all of them. His bare, bronze-like skin shone under the sunlight as he walked through battlefields filled with corpses. His beautiful green eyes and slicked-back red hair contrasted his fanged underbite and the bony growth on his forehead. She remembered watching his thick hands grip and crush life from anything they held. She saw the protrusion open, and saw what was under…stare at her.

​She started crying, her hands balling into fists as his monstrous hands aimed her way.

*Never…never again…*She thought. She looked up, staring daggers at the Stallion.

It snorted and rose before stomping down. The Earth shook under its hooves.

That is the look of one who suffered loss. Who understands what the Office prevents. Now answer! Will you hold it?! Will you bear the responsibility and wield it wisely, knowing what you may suffer with if misused?!

She nodded, pursing her lips to keep from scowling.

The world around her was distorted. Twisting and turning. Power flowed from the four into her body, and she felt her ears grow and the makings of a tail sprout from her spine. Her green eyes burned red as her fury was met with power in equal measure.

Harbinger Macha! The four roared. Heed the call of the Office! Wear and execute it well! All four bowed their heads. Macha looked to the right, eyeing a weary Metatron, his hair still jet black and his cyan eyes meeting hers.

 Eire

Centuries Later

 Macha rushed down the battlefield, followed by a pale aura, towards hordes of armored soldiers. Her eyes roared alive as their bronze skin, scales, and gills that were hidden amongst their armor came into view.

She roared as she crashed through them, her body erupting in pain as bone broke and muscle tore. Her fists tore through Fomorian armor and flesh, her kicks cut through anything in their path. One tried to slash her, but she stepped back, avoiding it before clamping her hand down on its head and ripping it off. Golden blood spewed from the stump as she threw the head at another Fomor and continued her slaughter.

 Eire

Outside Tir Na Noog

Soon After

 The city roared alive as several Gods and Goddesses in mismatched armor walked down the main road. A slightly older Macha walked amongst them, her arms wrapped against her body and bandages wrapped around her head, covering her left eye. A long coat draped over her shoulders as her horse ears twitched now and then. The large double doors to the castle opened, letting the small force in.

Before long, they stood before their King, the rotund, but stout and handsome, Dagda. He rose from his immaculate throne, his ornate armor shining over his massive frame. All the soldiers kneeled in his presence.

“Everyone!” He joyfully roared. “We have achieved a significant victory! Our forces decimated the remnants of the Fomorian General Cichol and struck a decisive blow against their army!”

Remnants is right. Macha thought. They were barely two thousand strong and were only a problem because of Cichol.

“In honor of this great victory, tonight…we celebrate!”

The hall cheered. The soldiers cheered.

Macha could barely smile.

That evening, outside the castle walls, Macha sat on a barrel and leaned against the castle wall. She looked to her left and right, ensuring she was alone. She sighed and let her body go lax.

And cried. It was a whimper at first, but grew. Soon, the tears fell. She wanted to wipe them away, but her broken arms were held in place. Her bandaged eye tinged with pain, and her bandages soaked up her tears.

It ate away at her thoughts. The pain. The horror. What she did, and why.

Then, it happened.

Perhaps it was because she was lost in the moment that she did not notice him. The only one among the court who did not see her cheering amongst the other broken and weary soldiers.

Silently, he walked over to her, then leaned on the wall a few feet from her.

“Hey,” He said.

She snapped up and turned to him, still teary-eyed.

He was short, but his presence was large and confident. His brown hair was parted down the middle, framing his face and blue eyes. His ornate armor, one of his few constants, shone in the small dregs of starlight from above.

“Fuck,” Macha whispered. “Who are you?”

“Nuada, and you’re Macha, the Harbinger and Slayer of Cichol.”

She shook her head.

“Stop.” He pulled out a handkerchief.

“Don’t pity me, pretentious prick.”

“Drying your face is a pity? Did not realize common decency was such a luxury.”

She sighed.

“I mean, I could let you try, but we both know that’s not going to happen.”

She leered at him. “Come to take advantage—”

“Oh, I recommend not finishing that thought.” His aura slowly flowed out, enveloping the area. The ground beneath them shook as leaves on faraway trees shook from their branches. “We can banter, but I am above slinging or tolerating petty insults.” His bearing softened and his aura vanished. “Or taking advantage of suffering peers.”

Her mouth went dry. Shit…he was one of Dagda’s retinue. “Then what do you want?”

“To make sure you’re not alone. You killed Cichol. That makes you a hero and a target. There are a few here not happy with your success. Some who even think fighting back against the Fomor will make things worse.”

Macha’s leg muscles tensed. “Are you one of them?”

“Oh, hell no. Cichol deserved what he got. They all do, but I’m not stupid enough to praise you for something you’re not proud of.”

He walked over to her, handkerchief in hand.

“May I?”

She froze and closed her eyes.

Gently, He wiped her face, avoiding her bandages.

“Does not take a genius to see the pangs of war. It’s too much sometimes.”

“And how would you know?”

Nuada froze. “My predecessor died protecting me from Cichol’s forces a few years back. Lost a few friends some time ago. The arrows that took them pierced my side and shoulder only because one of them pushed me out of the way.”

Macha opened her eyes, her red meeting his blue. She saw the quiet sadness resting there. Their gentleness. Their strength.

“I wanted to say thank you for killing that bastard, but I don’t think you’d appreciate that.” He wiped her face a little more. “I really want to say I’m sorry.”

She blinked a few times.

“If I were stronger back then, you’d not have to fight this battle, and my friends would be alive. You wouldn’t have to be the ‘hero’ and bear this.”

Macha shot him a small leer. “So you come and check on me, wipe away tears, and say something nice?”

“It’s all I can do right now. But I’ll do more in the future.”

She conceded a hint of a smile. “Do you think you can?”

“I don’t know, but that won’t stop me.”

He pocketed his handkerchief. “I’ll be over there, keeping an eye on things. When you’re ready, we can head back.”

Macha’s red eyes locked on his.

“…You…can stay here…if you’re not too shy.”

He smiled. He walked to her left and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

 Jörð Arena

Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall

 “By all, it was,” She said. “I don’t regret taking the Office, but everything after was a rough ride.”

Nuada nodded.

Macha reached her right hand up over her shoulder. Nuada moved his hand so she could rest hers on top of his. She leaned her head a little, feeling his arm and hand on her face.

“Nu. All these years and nightmares. I could only survive it with you here.”

“I know, and you never had to tell me. Not then. Not now.”

“But…did we tell Lugh? Does he know? He’s not us.”

“Not sure. We can only hope.”

“Just nice words again?”

“It’s all I can do for now.” I couldn’t do enough back then, either, Macha.

 Eire

Tir Na Noog

Years Later

Nuada kneeled in the main hall as the Dagda stood over him, crown in hand. Several Gods and Goddesses from their lands filled the room. Macha stood among them, her heart swollen from pride and fear.

“Nuada of the Tuatha De Dannan, you have been chosen to wear the crown of our people. By the word of Cernunnos, of Sucellus, and mine, you have been deemed worthy to inherit and wear our joint crown. May you lead our peoples, guide them, and protect them.” He gently lowered the crown on Nuada’s head.

Nuada felt the weight wash over him, but he refused to yield.

“Rise, King Nuada.”

He rose, and the hall erupted into cheers. He turned to his people, seeing their joy. He saw Macha smiling, recognizing the worry in her eyes that was always there when she looked at him. He nodded, his gaze and bearing strong, and his determination unmatched.

But it was not enough.

Ireland

Magh Tuireadh

 Long into his kingship, Nuada led a force of three hundred ships from Eire to Ireland, one of the regions watched over by his Pantheon. Word reached his court that Balor had begun building his forces there after a series of successive battles pushed the Fomor further and further away from Eire.

Here, Nuada would arrive at his own crossroad, and like Macha, he had to face it alone.

And he faced it there at the Battle of Magh Tuireadh.

Nuada stood at the front of his army, his beloved Fragarach in hand. Across from him, in sleek and green armor with a curved saber in hand, brown eyes blazing behind his visor, was Sreng, the infamous Champion of the Fir Bolg people, with his own force rivaling the Tuatha behind him.

“You invade our home, claim a false alliance with that bastard Balor, and then have the gall to demand a contest of champions?!” Sreng roared. “Have you no shame, mighty king of the Tuatha?!”

Nuada turned back to his forces, eyeing a handsome God with short spiky black hair and green eyes, his gold and red armor dented and cracked from the constant battles. He scowled at him, and the young God flinched.

Bres, you stupid bastard. I shouldn’t have listened to your damn advice. Look at where we are! He turned back to Sreng. Now both of our forces stare down ruin! “I demand it to spare our peoples!” He responded. “Too much has been lost, and we were wrong to declare war! But you know what would happen if we concede and leave.”

“Shame and retribution?!”

“Do not be obtuse. Both our peoples suffer under Balor’s shadow. If we concede, it will breed fear and paranoia. If we settle it like this, then a powerful leader will unite our peoples into a force stronger than alone.”
“You think that is you?!”

“Not sure, but I want to try! To prove, even in my error, I can make it up to you. And if I lose, then I know a better champion will protect my people!”

Sreng leaned a little back, taken aback by the words. Is…is he trusting me?! His enemy?! Madman! He breathed deeply. But I know how you feel. These times call for such madness! “Then come and prove it!”

The pair dashed at each other. They reached their perfect range and swung, their swords colliding in mid-air. They twisted and turned around each other, aiming at the other’s vitals and openings in their armor. Each attack, they knew, would break a lesser weapon and fell a weaker foe.

In that exchange that barely lasted a few minutes, the fate of their peoples collided, and the end played out.

Nuada swung at Sreng’s neck. Sreng ducked as he brought his arm back over his shoulder. As he dropped, he chopped down and cleaved clean through Nuada’s armor.

Nuada’s left arm dropped to the ground as blood spurted on the grass, and pain dug its claws through Nuada. Sreng smiled as he looked up at Nuada, knowing his blow did what he hoped it would do.

Only for Nuada to swing immediately back…and stop right at Sreng’s neck.

Both froze in place.

“Drop it,” Nuada snarled.

Sreng dropped his sword immediately.

“Do you…concede…Sreng of the Fir Bolg?!”

What’re you doing?! Sreng thought. Kill me! I just crippled you! Take your payment!

“ANSWER ME!” Nuada roared, both in rage at Sreng’s uncertainty and in defiance of his own pain.

I…I don’t understand! Sreng’s breath shuddered. “Why?” He whispered.

“Do you have children?! Family?!”

Sreng nodded.

“I am not taking you from them. You…you can fight for them tomorrow…with me…”

Sreng felt his body relax.

“Fight…with me, Sreng. Let me make it up to you…by defending your people with you…”

Those words echoed in Sreng’s ears and soul, stunning him into silence.

Nuada never got his answer.

Before he could hear Sreng admit defeat, Nuada crumbled to the ground, his sword falling next to him.

A Few Days Later

“So what happened after?” Nuada asked his council, Bres, and a bald God in a loincloth tattooed from head to toe in ancient sigils, while resting on a cot in his tent, the stump where his arm was now wrapped in bandages and herbs.

 Ogma

God Speech, Eloquence, and Language

Brother of the Dagda

Celtic Pantheon

“Sreng, conceded,” Bres answered. “He and his forces returned home, but I doubt this is the last time we will fight them.”

“Guess I need to get used to fighting with one arm.”

“Are you mad?!” Ogma asked. “Wait, you are—that’s besides the point! You’re in no shape to continue!”

“Then what should I do? Sit here on my impromptu throne and watch our people fight without a ruler?”

“…What about a temporary ruler?” Bres asked.

The pair eyed him.

“This is old text. In the place of the injured King, a proxy ruler can lead while he recovers. Once you are back in full form, I step down.”

“An excellent idea…from someone who didn’t help cause this,” Ogma said.

“What?”
“This battle wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t paranoid enough to claim the Fir Bolg had allied with Balor, and we paranoid enough to believe it.”

“…Yes, that’s my mistake.”

Nuada looked down at his injury. He could still feel it there. He tried opening and closing his lost hand. Nothing.

“Ogma, it’s a temporary solution. And Bres owes us some effort to fix this, too.” Nuada looked up at him. “I’m trusting you.”

“What will you do, Your Majesty?” Bres asked.

“I will return to Tir Na Noog. My staying here makes me a target for a response, and I can start my recovery back home.”

Bres rose and bowed. “I will not fail you, Your Majesty.”

Bres departed the tent. Once outside and with no one in sight, He allowed himself a growing emotion. As it grew, a smile grew across his face. Wicked. Conniving. Venomous.

Starting a war on pretenses, and now both forces are undermined by a self-destructive victory. He thought. There’s still much to do, but I will complete my mission, Balor.

Weeks Later

Tir Na Noog

Bres and his forces walked from the ports of Eire, Sreng’s forces in tow. They marched up the main road and entered through the same double doors that Macha entered after her victory centuries prior.

Nuada sat on his throne, reading a scroll, when Bres, still adorned in his armor, entered. He raised an eyebrow as Bres walked forward and the king’s personal guard slowly flowed out of the shadows.

“Acting presumptuous, aren’t you?” Nuada asked.

“Have to do what is necessary, Nuada,” Bres answered. “It’s the only way.”

“’A unified force of the Celtic Pantheon and the Fir Bolg will only occur if the current ruler, Nuada, cedes from the throne and names Bres his successor…” Nuada rolled up the scroll with one hand and placed it on his armrest. “Really?”

“Nuada,” Sreng started. “I do not agree with this, but the Chiefs of my people will not tolerate an invader as their protector.”

“But they’ll accept the one who counseled me to invade?”

Sreng remained silent.

“I don’t understand their rationality, Nuada, but for the good of our people and to stop our conflict from escalating, this is the best call,” Bres said.

Nuada rested his head on his fist. You…sly fox. Did you plan this? He looked at Sreng. There it is, that look of revulsion from working with despicable people. Are you stuck, too? Is that my fault, too? He closed his eyes. Thank All, Macha isn’t here. She’d lose her mind and try to kill—. His eyes snapped open. Well, that answers what my choice is…

Nuada rose off his throne and waved his hand. His guard stood back, shooting confused glances at each other. Nuada reached for his crown resting on his brow. I lost today, but this is NOT the end.

He removed it and placed it on his throne. He descended the steps and walked towards Bres and his forces.

“Do not fail here, too,” Nuada said. Bres waved his hand, and his forces separated to create an opening. Nuada walked through the opening and departed the castle.

 Jörð Arena

Outside the East Gate Entrance Hall

 I never forgave myself for that day. He thought. A failure unrivaled by anything before or since. I tried so hard every day to make amends for that horrid mistake to Sreng and his people for my short-sightedness. My paranoia. What Bres…did to our home. Our family. To Brigid. That failure hurt you, too, Lugh. I don’t deny it, and I refuse to allow it to be pushed aside.

It was my greatest failure, and I believed that wholeheartedly until today. Lugh…did I fail you, again? Is that all I can give you?

 Jörð Arena

Outer Halls

 Far from Nuada and Macha, Lugh made his way down the hall. Assal in one hand and his tablet in the other as he scrolled through his tablet’s image library. He smiled a little as his thumb swiped up every few seconds.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks. Without looking up, he darkened the screen and pocketed it. He looked ahead and saw a familiar sight.

“Hey, Lu-Lu!” Buddha said, smiling and waving. “What’s going on?”

“…Hey, Buddha. Now’s not a good time.”

“Oh, I disagree.”

Of course, you do…

“I just wanted to see if you talked to Deichtine.” Buddha smiled confidently.

“I did. I called her and Sualtam, and we talked earlier. It was good catching up with them! So thank you for sparking that idea!” Lugh smiled back.

“…Sualtam?”

“Her husband.” Lugh’s brow rose. “Wait. Hold on—oh! You thought…” His face went beet red. “I mean, she’s pretty, but I am not ready for anything like that! Plus, I’m not into messing with marriages.”

Buddha cleared his throat. Boy, Rommie misread that situation entirely. I should have checked on that.

“I’m guessing Rommie told you about her?”

“Maaaaaybe…”

“Did he also ask you to come here?”

“Nah, He’s determined to fight you. Almost obsessively. Kind of odd to me, but hey, it’s him.”

“It is. So why are you here?”

“I heard through the grapevine you voted for Humanity’s survival at the council. And now you’re fighting against them. Seems kind of…”

Lugh shot him a listless leer. “Two-faced? Cowardly? Not really a nice way to spin that.”

“I might not be able to, but at least you’re aware of it. You don’t hate Humanity, and the spot you’re in is prime to put an end to this.”

“Am I?”

Buddha’s smile vanished. “You forfeit, and Humanity wins 7-5. Ragnarök ends. Rommie lives. Skalmöld lives. Their kid lives. You live, and you can go home.”

Lugh could feel his heart beating faster. “That’s a great way to oversimplify the situation.”

“I’m more of the idea that you two are making this complicated.”

“Buddha…” Lugh sighed, feeling his temper grow. He wanted something sharp and pointed to say. A part of him wanted to yell and scream at what was implied. However, something came to him, and he realized why. “Thank you.”

Buddha blinked a few times.

“I get what you’re doing. You’re trying to help Humanity. Moreso, you’re kind enough to try and help me. Most Gods wouldn’t understand what you’re doing, but I do. You can tell I don’t want this.”

“…” Buddha scratched his cheek. “Is that what you think?”

“If you really wanted to just help Humanity, nothing is stopping you from trying to stop me.”

Buddha’s smile returned. “Trying?” His aura erupted into the hall.

Lugh nodded as his aura exploded out and smashed into Buddha’s. The hall shook under their power. “Trying.”

Their auras dissipated instantly, and Buddha shrugged. “I’m used to being put in situations where I never had a choice. It’s how my life was for a long time, and there was an inkling that you were stuck in the same spot.”

Lugh smiled back. “I understand, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. This life wasn’t forced on me. I was given a life so precious I couldn’t turn away from it. No matter what.”

“Given it?”

He nodded. “Rommie told me about your past. I would never wish that on anyone. A gilded cage. But my life isn’t a cage. It’s a gift offered to me after I lost everything, and I…” Lugh could feel joy flow through him. “I just want to thank them. To give back to them the love they gave me. They had no obligation to do it, but here we are.”

Ah…darn. Buddha thought. He grew out of puberty.

“Buddha, you learned about parts of my life before coming here. Do you know anything about my people? My parents?”

“Seems not as much as I thought. Enlighten me.”

“Ha! Good one! My people, Buddha, are a people of desperate, constant struggle and growth. The Celtic Pantheon is a misnomer; we’re really a people of refugees and survivors. So many of them are from Pantheons that no one outside Eire even knew existed. Histories, cultures, peoples. Gone to the whims of one nightmare.”

“Balor.”

Lugh nodded.

“There isn’t a word to describe what he is other than what he makes my people feel: Fear. Doesn't help that he’s my grandfather, too.”

“You don’t owe a debt to right his wrongs," Buddha said. "And I know that relationship made your home a bit hostile for you."

“That thought never crossed my mind, and that was our hurdle to overcome together. He still hurts people I love, and my people are terrified of his whims. Everything we’ve done is to one day stop him for good, but nothing’s certain. No one’s ever truly stopped him.”

“If you feel what’s going on in Eire isn’t enough, why not reach out? I’d be willing to help. Rommie, too.”

“Here’s my counter to that: why offer now?”

Buddha paused.

“Balor has been around since Aunt Macha and Uncle Nuada were kids. He’s old. Maybe even older. No one knows where he came from. Even Fomorians who fled his tyranny and joined us are uncertain. He’s been around long enough that other Pantheons can’t be ignorant of his threat. But they don’t care. He’s just so damn strong, he doesn’t bother invading when he knows victory is a certainty. Eire is just the closest target to ease his boredom.”

“So that’s why…”

“Even with the truth hanging over everyone, no one stepped up. And it shouldn’t take Ragnarök’s final score on the line to compel people to offer their aid.”

I’m not trying to manipulate you, Lu-Lu! You and Rommie shouldn’t be fighting! Buddha thought. Friends shouldn’t fight like this! “A counter to your counter: What do you gain from winning? Other than a dead friend and his family?”

“The one thing my people need: Hope. My Uncle knows Humanity’s strength. He knows its potential, because they’re in the same situation right now. I have to fight because I have to show my people, against the greatest foe the Gods have faced in recent times, that their next king will rise to the occasion and always place them first. Even against people he may care for.”

Buddha clicked his tongue. “Making hard choices is natural for leaders. I only hope you stay the same while doing it.” Buddha nodded. “There’s nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?”

“My parents…” Lugh caught himself, then smiled. “My parents raised me to be the kind of King who won’t lose himself to the title. It will always be there, but how I wear it is me and me alone! And no, but you’re a great friend for trying. I know there’s a part of this I am wrong for doing, but I’m wrong regardless. I have to make the choice I can live with.”

Lugh walked forward, passed Assal to his other hand, and extended his right.

Buddha reached out and grabbed and shook.

Lugh walked past him and down the hall.

Good luck, Rommie. He thought. I tried stopping him, but I knew I’d fall short. I hope you’re ready, because he’s grown up.

Eris. The Goddess of Strife and Discord. Of destructive, malevolent chaos. A being of pure malice, unable to feel anything for her fellow soul. These are what come to mind for anyone anywhere when her name is uttered. Countless souls ruined by her plans and whims, with barely an afterthought. In her heyday, there was an old saying: As long as the sun rises and sets, Eris is causing problems. No one was safe; some believe she still causes misery even from the confines of her prison in the Circles just by existing. 

Yet, many know the how, but not the why. They know her machinations, but not her motivations. That deep, dark, burning force that pushes her forward. Some do, but they will never say it, lest they suffer her wrath. Unlike her drive and wit, her reasons are simple. Only one thought drives her, and her gold nail-polished fingers will never let go of it.

The desire to prove her greatness.

 Valhalla

Olympus

Eons Ago

 Far from the bustling central city of the Greek Gods stood a dilapidated temple. Spider webs reached from the columns lining the outside edges of the roof as a pair of dust-covered statues of a tall, imposing woman stood at the temple’s entrance.

Inside, a group of Gods was busy at work, cleaning. Some were dusting the statues and columns inside, while a few more were sweeping the floor. One was fast asleep, leaning against the wall behind one of the columns. A pair of goddesses was carrying large bundles of banners and runners outside and placing them on lines behind the temple.

Sitting in the temple’s center, on an old chair, was an old Goddess wrapped in a deep black toga. Stars shone all over her robe, fading in and out, as her pitch-black eyes watched the group clean the temple. Her skin looked like worn leather pulled across sharp features, and her raven hair was tied up in a bun.

 Nyx

Goddess of The Night

The Living Evening

(Greek Pantheon)

https://preview.redd.it/azwy7673ob9h1.png?width=2048&format=png&auto=webp&s=a6c030a8e521fa6936805e0ce6d020994f361bc3

She leaned over and removed one of her leather sandals. Taking it in hand, she squinted towards a column, wound back, and tossed the sandal. It bounced off the wall, ricocheted off the column, and smacked the sleeping God on the head, shocking him awake and toppling him over.

“Hypnos!” She yelled. “Take a nap after you’re done!”

He yawned and ran his fingers through his silver hair. “Yes, Mom,” He groaned.

 Hypnos

God of Sleep

(Greek Pantheon)

“You’d probably get more rest if you weren’t chasing after the muses and burning the candle at both ends.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Bring me my sandal, or you’ll be grabbing both of them.”

He snatched the sandal up and brought it over to his mother. She eyed him as she took it and slipped it back on, watching her son look away.

“What? Embarrassed after a light scolding?”

Her son stayed quiet as the others watched on as they worked.

“If this is how you carry yourself, you’ll continue chasing. Back to work.”

He sighed and nodded, then headed back to his spot to clean.

Not far from their mother, Eris wiped down one side of a column as one of her sisters, a violet-skinned Goddess with wavy white hair in a black toga, whipped the other.

 Oizys

Goddess of Pain

(Greek Pantheon)

“Why are we doing this?” Eris whispered.

“Don’t ask me,” Her sister answered. “Not like we get visitors. Last time anyone visited, it was Hera starting up another of her spats with Mom.”

“Two old bats beating each other with their wings.”

Oizys chuckled.

Then, a sandal smacked Eris in the back of the head, pushing her head into the column.

“I’m old, not deaf,” Nyx said. “Move faster than your brother.”

Eris bit her lip and exhaled, fuming. She looked over at the sandal and kicked it back at her mother. It slid on the floor and stopped right next to her bare foot.

Nyx smiled as she reached down and slid it back on.

“We do this because it is our home. Whatever is ours, we make it the best possible. If others want to think less of us, let them. By our mere existence and effort, we prove our worth.”

Eris rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile growing on her face.

A few hours later, and a great deal of cleaning, the dozen or so Gods stood at the front of their home, taking in the shining monument of their effort. Nyx stood at the entrance and silently waved. They knew what it meant: the signal for freedom. They all went their separate ways, with Eris and Oizys heading towards the city.

“Training day?” Oizys asked her sister.

“Yep. Got a race and fight coming up. Nike and Apollo are going to be tough to beat, but the regimen I built should help.”

“You’re going up against them? Again? Why”

Eris clenched her fists. “I have to prove my worth. Mom’s stuck living out her days in that old temple, making us clean that place up for her. Her heydays are over, but ours are just getting started.”

“Easier said than done. Mom’s been on the outs with Zeus and Hera since the Titanomachy Tournament. The only reason she’s not dead is that she sided with them.”

Eris grimaced. “That’s not living. Being stuck as a shadow of your former self, bossing your kids around to clean an unvisited temple every week? I’d rather be dead.”

“Uh, huh. Sure.”

“Ozzy, watch me. I’ll show everyone what I’m capable of, and they’ll all see my greatness.”

The pair reached the edge of the city and went their separate ways. Eris walked down the street to a small building and walked in as the sun beamed overhead. She went up a flight of stairs and entered a small room. In it was a small kitchen, a table, a bed, and a large cupboard, full of medals and trophies. She eyed a few of them as she walked over to a chest.

Second Place in last year’s Goddess Pankration. She thought. Lost to Echidna, but Artemis and Athena weren’t there. Third Place in this year’s Marathon, losing to Nike, who lost to Athena. Seventh Place in the Inter-Pantheon Goddess Brawl. Freyja got me…

She sighed and opened the trunk, pulling out a pale blue short tunic. She slipped into it and changed into a pair of worn sandals.

Time to get to work and show them all.

She left her small respite, descended the stairs, and started her run.

 A Few Weeks Later

 Eris took her stance, leaning forward, ready to run. Nike, the Goddess of Victory, stood next to her, beaming with excitement as her pixie-cut, light hair stood on end.

“Ready to go?!” She said.

Eris smirked and met her eyes. “Always!”

She looked forward.

The announcer yelled, and they were off. Eris and Nike rushed down the track, their form in perfect sync. Their breathing in perfect rhythm with their body.

“They’re neck and neck!” Zelos, the God of Competition, roared. “It’s another breakneck dash down the track for these long-time rivals!” They rushed past him, causing his long, spiky hair to tussle in the wind. Holy cow! Eris is faster than last time!

Then, another powerful gale blew past him.

His head snapped in the direction it went.

What the…who was that?!

The two rounded the first turn. Then the second.

Finally, it happened.

In that brief transition in the turn, Eris…took the lead. Nike could see her pulling ahead. Excitement coursed through her, and she grit her teeth.

That’s it! She thought. Now, we’re talking! But I’m not losing yet! She stomped the ground, racing behind Eris.

The pair blitzed down the straightaway, doing everything they could to keep their momentum. Pure adrenaline coursed through their veins as they reached the third turn.

Eris, for the first time in perhaps a long time, pushed herself and reached the fourth turn first. She finally passed Nike. Finally reached the point she strived for. She could not stop the smile growing across her face as she poured her all into that last great burst of speed.

She saw the end.

She saw the goal finally within reach.

She saw…someone pass her.

Her black hair was done in a ponytail that whipped behind her as she widened the gap between her and Nike. Then did the same to Eris. Her sprinting form was flawless. The width of her stride, the swing of her arms, and the arch of her back. All of it is perfect.

And it got her across the finish line three seconds before Eris. Eris reached her goal and slowed down, her joy leaving her body with her heavy breaths. She turned around, eyeing the winner receiving the medal from Zelos. Her red eyes were beaming with pride.

That… Eris thought as Zelos walked over to her and draped the second-place medal over her. Again. Was supposed… She bit down, trying to stop herself from scowling. To be mine! Who the hell are you?!

Zelos walked over to his sister, both in disbelief at the race’s winner. Nike shrugged and hugged her brother before going over to the winner and shaking her hand.

“That was amazing!” Nike asked. “Where the hell did that come from?!”

“It just came naturally,” The girl said. “But watching you and Eris showed me I had a lot to learn!”

Don’t fucking patronize me, thief! Eris thought, watching.

“Everyone! Behold our top runners! In third, Nike! In second, Eris!”

“And in first place: Pandora!”

“Not too shabby, Pandora!” Nike said. “Looks like I got a new rival!”

Eris felt something stab her heart. You treacherous bitch! I’m your rival! I’m the one you’re supposed to see as your better!

“I’ll try not to let you both down, then!” Pandora said, smiling.

Eris’ heart started racing. She turned away from them, hyperventilating in a panic. No….NO, NO, NO! This isn’t how it's supposed to be! I wasn’t supposed to lose! Not again!

But it did happen again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again….

Another competition. Second Place.

Another race. Fourth Place.

A Pankration tournament. Top Sixteen.

At every event that Pandora entered, Eris fell a little further. When she wasn’t there, Eris’ victories felt hollow. For the first time in her life, first-place trophies and medals adorned her home.

And they made her sick, and she knew why. What she wanted more than anything continued to escape her. Worse, he continued to take from her. The God she wanted to beat in a real fight took Pandora on as his student. The Goddess, who wanted to outrun, found another rival to compete with.

The last straw came in the form of a simple beauty pageant. Eris stood alongside Pandora, Brünhilde, and a mysterious blonde Goddess with dark eyes and yellow irises. Her toga was immaculate; a beautiful canary yellow with small black accents similar to nebulas. A toga she worked on with her mother.

Next to the other three, she felt her heart race.

I can do it. I did everything right. Made everything right!

Zelos walked over to the four and unfurled a scroll.

“Gods and Goddesses! I have the results from our judges! After painstaking deliberation, we have our winner!”

A light shone from above, moving from one contestant to the next.

Please! Eris thought.

The light slowed down.

PLEASE!

It started to stop right above her.

PLEEEEEEEEASE!

And passed over her and stopped on top of the blonde goddess.

“We have our WINNEEEEER! BOTILDA!”

https://preview.redd.it/6j2v45zopb9h1.png?width=2048&format=png&auto=webp&s=c2ee99176e6bff70733a9b4c134591e0379f67c6

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Eris screamed in her mind as she smiled and clapped. NOOOOOOOOooooooo….

The Goddess swept her blonde hair back and looked over at Brünhilde, and her face turned beet red.

“The fuck, Hilde?!” She roared. “Why the hell did I win?!” The Goddess grabbed her toga and tore it off her chest.

Nay, his chest.

“I’m sorry for bullying Thrud!” Baldr yelled.

Brünhilde dropped to her knees, laughing. Loud and obnoxiously. Pandora fumed and stared daggers at Baldr.

“Oh fuck me…”

“I’ll get you after I deal with Hilde, Baldr!” Pandora yelled.

Eris continued clapping, her eyes locked on Baldr as he lowered his head, and Zelos raised his hand in victory. Her world went silent, save for a growing ringing sound. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. All she could sense was that ringing sound growing louder and louder until it was all she had.         

 Valhalla Arena

Battleground

 All of you are teaming up to take me down. Eris thought, her Chrysógonoi rampaging through the city as more of the Pandora clones attack them. I will make all of you regret trying to take from me what is miiiiiine.

 Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

 Set pulled out his tablet and started tapping at the screen, his brow furrowed.

Heimdall, what was that?

He watched Heimdall pull out his tablet, look at the screen, then over at him. Heimdall quickly typed away at the screen.

What do you mean?

Set’s grip on the tablet tightened as he typed out his response.

Why did the clone not explode when Eris tackled it, or from the chokehold? That is what I mean.

Set placed the tablet down and exhaled.

“Something wrong?” Apollo asked.

“That clone was supposed to explode,” Set said. “I try to make the rules slightly vague to enable innovation, but this is too far.”

“Is it?”

“Rule Two: The Fighters must seek each other out and attack only each other, and any clone

struck by a direct attack will explode. Not ‘may.’ Will. The rules must be fair to both participants. If we sway them one way or another, then we are cheating. Gods. Do. Not. Cheat. We are above that.”

Apollo nodded, smiling.

Set’s tablet vibrated.

I figured out what happened. I had the settings set for attack to mean strikes! I must have messed up the settings after changing them from Wrestling!

Set sighed. Well, nothing is perfect. He thought.

Are you that worried about it? The wispy voice asked

Eris is a sore loser. She is already volatile from fighting Pandora. If she thinks we are trying to sabotage her, things will pointlessly escalate.

What if we leave it as is? The settings are messed up, but is this chaos…in a good way? Innovation and adaptation?

Set sat back, his eyes darting side to side.

Heimdall, leave it as is. Let us use this as a chance to keep it interesting. Zeus should be pleased by it.

On it.

Set pocketed his tablet.

“Attention, everyone!” Heimdall roared through Gjallarhorn. “I must clarify! Rule Two’s attack penalty only counts for strikes from the body or projectiles! Tackles, Locks, holds, and throws do not count!”

Do you think this will fix it? The wispy voice asked.

No. Eris will still think we are cheating her. But this will stop a rule change and keep the fight going.

We cannot win with her, can we?

No one can. That is what happens when no one does things how she wants them.

 Valhalla Arena

Battleground

 Pandora and her growing army raced towards the ongoing destruction. In the distance, she saw a headless, hulking wooden golem with large pincers covered in razor-sharp leaves and short stubby legs cleaving through the buildings. Multiple golden eyes peered out of its shoulders, darting in all directions.

 Neikea Klados

Quarrel

  Near it was a large serpent covered in tree bark, eyes lining its entire body from its tail up to four golden apple blossoms lined with teeth on the petals’ interior.

 Androktasiai Anthos

Manslayer

 The Apple Blossoms pointed her way, and a single golden eye rested in each of the flowers. It screeched and started slithering towards her.

Geir, Pandora thought. We’re leaving this thing to the others. We gotta find Eris before she makes more of these things!

Easier said than done! Geirölul said. We haven’t seen her since you decked her!

Pandora dashed ahead, crouched, and jumped over Androktasiai’s heads. Landing on its back, she sprinted down towards its tail and sprang off as her clones jumped out of its way. They then rushed its heads, climbing all over and punching every inch they could reach as the wooden monstrosity slammed its body against nearby buildings. Several clones exploded while others were flung off.

Pandora sprinted behind Neikea, squinting at it as she passed. A dozen or so of her clones were already rushing towards it to take it down.

As she looked forward, something jolted through her mind, and she slowed down to a walk.

Hey, what’s wrong?!

Geir…we’re…we’re in trouble.

Why?!

Pandora scanned the area, then looked back at Neikea.

Its eyes were locked on her, and the truth dawned on her.

Rule Three. If too many clones were destroyed, they would automatically start hunting down the real Eris or Pandora and attack them. Pandora figured this out around the same time Brünhilde and Hermes reached the same conclusion. However, while she knew what Eris had done, she failed to realize the other part of Eris’ plan.

If the clones are forced to attack the real us and those monsters count as the ‘real Eris…’

Then that means. Geirölul inhaled sharply, panic setting in. Whichever Pandora doesn’t attack them is the real one! Shit!

“Foooooound youuuuu,” Neikea spoke in a guttural drone. It sucked in air through the hole where a neck would be, its body swelling and its bark-like skin creaking and cracking. ‘SHE’S HEEEEEERE!!!!”

Screams erupted from all over the city as trees erupted from between allies, tore out of buildings, and rose from the streets and pavilions. All of them burst out of more unfortunate clones.

They rose high above the buildings. Dark red leaves and white blossoms grew from their branches while more bore fruit.

Neikea turned towards her and swung its serrated arm. Pandora swung back and fired her right arm, arrows shining across it.

Their arms collided, and Neikea’s arm flew back and ripped out of its socket. Its eyes frantically shot in all directions as it toppled over. Dozens of Pandoras crawled all over it and began tearing it to pieces.

It roared in horror and pain before gurgling into silence.

Just in time for Androktasiai to slither around and snatch Pandora up in its fanged petals and slither away from the clones.

“I beeeet youuu taaaste deliciooooooous…” It hissed, biting down. Pandora pressed her hands and feet against two petals as the other three slowly started closing around her.

This is going to suck! She thought

The petals snapped shut, and it swallowed. Its eyes squinted in glee as it coiled around a tower. It scanned the city, eyeing all the trees starting to flower.

“I goooot heeeeer!” It roared, chortling. “Nooooot any eeeeeelse! Meeeee!”

The audience watched on as the creature celebrated its victory.

Valhalla Arena

Gods’ Bleachers

 “You know…” One cat-headed Goddess started. “I want us to win, but this? This is just…”

“Nasty?” Her twin said.

“That’s one way to put it. That Eris is strong, but we’re Gods! When did we fight like this?!”

Valhalla Arena

Humanity’s Bleachers

 “My word,” A cowboy whispered. “That’s…a way to go.”

“She caused a lot of harm, but even that may be a bit much,” A man in a karate gi said. Getting eaten alive? Wouldn’t wish that on—”

Androktasiai slammed against the tower and groaned. It slammed again.

“What…the…”

It slammed again.

Again.

Then again.

Its bark-like skin cracked and peeled away where it hit the tower. Only the sharpest eyes amongst the audience could see why.

Something was hitting it from inside its body. So hard, its blows would push its skin out and slam it against the wall.

Brünhilde watched on, smirking.

“If any of you think that will take down Pan…”

 Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

 Think again. Set thought.

 Valhalla Arena

Battleground

 Androktasiai lurched away from the tower, and wretched viscous green liquid.

Maaamaaa….I doooon’t feeeel tooooo gooooood…. It thought.

Oh no! Eris answered. That’s okay, baby! It’ll stop soon!

It raised its head. R…real—

Pandora burst out of its body, just below the flowers, covered in slime, punching through its neck. Androktasiai’s heads fell off their necks, landing below with a nasty crash.

“That was awful!” Pandora yelled, scrambling off the serpent’s body as it uncoiled from the tower. She jumped and found her grip, holding herself to the side as she tried shaking off the slime. “Taking that off the wish list.”

Is now the time for jokes?! Geirölul thought. You’re lucky we could still do something!

“It’s always time for—”

A buzzing sound erupted into the open air. Pandora looked all around, seeing black clouds full of small glints of gold floating around the trees.

“You know…you’re probably right.”

Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

Set heard the door to his box open, but remained still.

“Having fun, Set?” A woman’s sharp voice spoke. “Did not take you for a sadist.”

Set sighed as Apollo looked around.

“Ah!” He said. “What a surprise!” He rose and walked over to the guest.

“If I’m a surprise, then you are not paying much attention.”

“Not what I meant! I thought you’d be sitting with your children.”

The pair walked over to Set and the empty chairs.

“I need a break from them today. They’re being pitiful, and I did not raise them to be that way.” The voice’s source walked over to Set’s right. “I’ll take this one. Good to see you’re still well-mannered.” Her jet-black eyes stared daggers at Set as Apollo sat back down. “Same can’t be said for you.”

“Nyx,” Set said.

“Set,” She answered.

He turned to look her in the eyes, his cyan to her jet-black.

Nyx inhaled sharply through her nose. You sly old bastard. So this is where you were hiding.

“Here to watch your daughter?”

“Nyx sat back in her chair. “I’m here to watch Pandora.”

“Really? Color me confused.”

“It’s natural for someone who thinks too much not to pay attention. Figure it out yourself.”

“I could kick you out.”

“You won’t. You know better.”

Set sighed and leaned back, watching the buzzing clouds fly towards the tower.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 Logoi inhaled deeply as it surveyed the audience. Eris looked on from her hiding spot far below while several Pandora clones rushed to engage Phonoi Kormos.

“There…was once a pitiful God…Ugly. Cripple. Unloved,” It purred.

Dozens of the Pandoras stared daggers up at it. It gleefully took all their spite in with its menagerie of eyes.

“To assuage his loneliness, he heeded the ramblings of a mad angel.”

Brünhilde and her sisters, watching from their rooms, felt old wounds tear open.

Einherjar Barracks

Dandara’s Room

 Randgriz dropped her empty teacup as the words echoed through her monitor. Dandara snapped it out of the air as her husband Zumbi wrapped his arm around Randgriz’ shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“It’s…it’s fine…” She answered.

“No, it’s not,” Dandara said. “What’s going on?”

The creature on the other side paid no heed to anything and continued

“Like this angel…he decided that if no one would love him…he’d make someone who did!”

Einherjar Barracks

Lyudmila’s Room

“Hrist,” Lyudmila said, eyeing her spotter digging her fingers into the table. “Hrist!”

“What?!” She yelled, meeting Lyudmila’s soft but cold gaze. “She’s…She’s…

Lyudmila, slowly, extended her open hand to her. Hrist stared down at it.

“Destroying furniture doesn’t help anyone. Not even you.”

Hrist’s face scrunched up as tears fell, and she took her friend's hand.

“I hate her…”

Lyudmila turned back to the monitor, rage pooling into her chest at the sound of that Logoi’s words.

“You might have every right to.”

“And so! SOOOOOOO! He MANUFACTURES the perfect little girl! One who could never hate him for his pitiful nature!”

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

“And so…Pandora is made!” Logoi yelled. “Made Perfect! Acts Perfect! Looks PERFECT!” Its voice went shrill. “A manufactured doll parading around, loved by everyone!! Its manic gold eyes opened wide. “Sought after by so…many…suitors…”

Pandora sprinted across the rooftops, her fists clenched.

How… Geirölul’s voice in her hand. Dare...

Geir. Pandora thought, her face burning as blood flowed to her head. Her heart beat faster and faster. I know we’re supposed to be smart here, but—

FUCK BEING SMART! THAT COW NEEDS TO GET CLOCKED!

Pandora snarled. Time to get rough!

Logoi watched her run its way.

Perfect. It thought. Do exactly as I want you to.

“But the love she didn’t deserve created a wicked soul who bent the ears of men to her whims! And one…poor…Titan…was damned by his love for her…”

Logoi looked straight down at the city below—several clones of Pandora, leering at it.

More? They’re getting aggressive! It thought. It seems Algos’ death was not an anomaly! Are you seeing this, Mother? Their rage? Their bitterness? It’s my gift to you!

Far from the spectacle, Eris, in a brisk jog, formed up with a small crowd of her clones.

She smiled. Thank you. Now do your job to the best of your ability, or else! She responded.

Logoi twitched. Y….Yes, Mother!

Her smile widened, catching the eye of a few of her clones. Slowly, without her noticing, they started veering away from her.

Logoi took one great breath.

“This Titan…in his blind love…offered himself to her! A plaything! A new toy to break! Whatever she wanted, he would give her!”

More and more Pandora clones joined the crowd under him. Phonoi roared as it rampaged towards them, smashing buildings and tearing through the city’s populace.

“And what does she do? To that poor, dumb, lovestruck fool? She…tricks him into releasing all the world’s evils and killing himself!”

Logoi…started laughing. Wheezing, rasping, and almost choking, but laughing.

“She plunged the world of man into depravity on a whim and forced the Heavens to flood the world! And what happened to her after?!”

Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

The Humans and Gods watched on. Anger, resentment, sorrow, and everything in between flooded their souls as Logoi spoke.

Brünhilde and Göll watched on, the former’s fingers digging into her biceps, trying to hold back against the wave of rage.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 “Nothing,” Logoi said. “For her crimes, she suffered no consequence. No punishment. She—”

Pandora reached the end of the last rooftop. Phonoi was right under her. She inhaled deeply, feeling her back muscles and abs tighten.

“Ready, Geir?!” She roared, overpowering Logoi’s speech and making it flinch.

She jumped, and her boots and gauntlets glowed bright red as the air sizzled around her body. Bright red arrows flashed across her body, all pointing to her right.

“FUCK IT UP!” Geirölul yelled.

A few of the arrows pointed straight down

“Panorama Pankratiast…KÁTHODOS (Descent)!”

She fired straight down.

Right towards Phono’s massive head.

The arrows wrapping around her body turned to the left and raced across her body. Her fist fired straight into Phonoi’s crown.

And she exploded out of its chin. Bark, wood, and sticky liquid littered the air and ground.

Eris froze in shock.

Logoi went mute.

The entire audience went still, taking in the sight of a single blow downing the wooden colossus. Brunhilde roared with vicious catharsis.

As Phonoi’s body crumbled above her. Pandora swiveled off her left foot and summoned more arrows. Her right fist smashed into Phonoi’s falling corpse. Arrows ran up its body from the point of impact, all pointing to behind it.

Then, despite weighing nearly two tons of monstrous fauna and growing to reach the size of a temple, it flew.

High.

And smashed into a nearby building, splintering into pieces.

“Pandora…just smashed through one of the monsters and sent it flying with just two punches!” Heimdall yelled. “What decimation and destruction!”

“HEY!” Pandora roared towards her clones. “Are we tolerating this?!”

All of them turned towards her, their red eyes burning with barely contained fury.

“Then let’s get that thing!”

Pandora ran towards the crowd.

One of the clones ran to the front. “I’m ready!” She yelled

Pandora stomped the ground and jumped towards her. Her clone brought her hands together and crouched. The original landed in her hands, and arrows formed on her legs and the clone's hands.

Logoi swung its emaciated torso from side to side. Mother! Phonoi is dead! She’s coming! It pleaded. Help me!

Why? Eris answered. You did your job perfectly!

It stopped moving, going limp.

I love you, Logoi! I’ll summon you earlier next time! And we can do more together!

M…Mother?! What do you mean ‘Next ti—?!

“Panorama Pankratiast…ÁNODOS (Ascent)!” Pandora roared.

The clone fired her straight up.

Logoi watched Pandora close in.

“Why’d you stop?!” Pandora yelled. “I thought you were telling-“

She blasted through Logoi, smashing it to pieces.

“-a DAMN GOOD STORY?!”

Pandora’s ascent slowed, and she floated for the briefest second. She scanned the audience as she started falling, and sighed.

The same expressions as before.

The same sentiments as before.

Though Logoi was gone, and its words gripped at the worst emotions within Man and God, there is no doubt, despite its twisted form and words, that the damage was done. Or, it was already there.

Worse, and something Pandora could not deny even when armed with the truth.

It was not entirely wrong.

 Valhalla

Aetna

Long Ago

 In the early days of Creation, before written history was even a concept to Humanity, one Smithing God sat in front of a short stand in the center of his workshop. On it rested a small statue shaped like an infant in a swaddling cloth. Behind him, in ornate blue robes, stood Metatron, his cyan eyes locked on the statue; his black hair buzzed at the sides, and a matching mustache and goatee. Small grey hairs could be seen amongst the black, but he didn’t pay them any mind.

“Are you sure you want to do this? He asked.

“I do,” Hephaestus said. “I’ve been buildin’ things for other people for so damn long; it’s time I did somethin’ for me.”

“Fair, but where is Aphrodite? And why ask me to be here?”

“She's not interested in this, and you get it.”

“…Get what?”

“This…parentin’ thing. Zeus and Hera stink at it, but they try. I need the input of someone who ‘gets it.’”

“…Okay? Well, I first want to say a child is not ‘something.’ It is the heaviest responsibility anyone can take on.”

“The guy with seven boys would say that. And you know I don’ mean to make light of it.”

“I believe you." Metatron took in a deep breath, his anxiety rising a bit. "It is…frightening, Hephaestus. I have gone over your notes. She is going to be strong. Maybe too strong. Maybe even too perfect.”

“I know, but she is goin’ to have me for a dad, and that already works against her.”

Metatron grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “Any parent who loves their child wants them to be better than they are. You already understand that, but Hephaestus, you must understand something else, and it may be impossible for you right now.”

“And what’s that?”

“She is going to love you. Willingly. She will not understand why at the start. Maybe never. But she is going to love you. If you look at yourself this way, you will hurt her.”

Hephaestus looked his way, confused.

“How we see ourselves can hurt our children. We want them to be happy; if we raised them right, they want the same for us, and our happiness becomes theirs. It is…really hard to explain.”

“So we can’t beat ourselves up, because it makes our kids sad?”

“Yes. I do not know why, but we have to show our children what it means to love ourselves, so they can learn to love themselves, warts and all. Even if she is going to be…who she will be, if you do not help her that way, it does not matter how much you give her. There will always be something she will hate about herself, and she will never find peace with it.”

Hephaestus turned back to the statue. “I…I don’ know if I can. I don’ want her to feel like this.”

“You cannot shield her from it. She will be her own person and deal with things you will never see or know. But she needs to know how to deal with those situations, and that she will learn it from somewhere.”

Hephaestus took in a few breaths.

“Because otherwise, you are not trying to become a parent. You are just building another thing to ‘perfect.’”

“I…” Hephaestus sighed. “Really hate when you say smart shit.” He walked over to his workbench. Reached under it and pulled out an old, large wooden box. He set it on the table, opened it, and reached in. He sifted around for a few seconds, but found what he needed.

Two red, metallic gloves.

He slid them slowly over his hands and clenched his fists.

“Ichor Hephaistos.”

The gloves glowed and sizzled.

“Step back. I gotta do this right.”

Metatron took a few steps back.

Hephaestus slowly walked over to the statue, his hands held up as if he were about to perform surgery.

Here I go…

Slowly, gently, as fear entered his heart, Hephaestus reached towards the statue and wrapped his massive hands around it.

Metatron watched light emanate and envelop him.

Stay strong, Hephaestus. He thought. I know how you feel more than anything. I 'get it.' That fear…of being unworthy of love. That ‘something’ that invalidates our privilege to it when it comes so naturally to others.

He felt the light envelop him, and a wave of gentle energy rolled over him.

Michael and the rest of my boys made me feel it every time. Every day. Brünhilde, the other day, said her first words…and it destroyed me all over again.

He heard something amidst the light.

A voice.

Small.

Quiet at first.

Then, it grew. Nothing bombastic or loud, but it grew as the light slowly faded. The wave vanished, and Metatron stayed silent.

The workshop came into view, and the light vanished. Hephaestus’ gloves dimmed as the cloth in his hands tussled about.

He stared down and felt all the fear in the world vanish. Within his soul, only one thing remained.

Hope.

In his large, thick, gloved hands, in a light blue cloth, was a baby. Her small smattering of black hair matched his.

She opened her eyes. Red, just like hers. She looked up at him.

“Hey,” Hephaestus whispered.

She smiled and cooed.

He shuddered as tears fell. He placed her gently in the crook of his arm and rocked her.

“My Baby Girl…my Pandora.”

 Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 Pandora fell. Within a few seconds, she landed, caving the ground. She stood, surrounded by her clones, and rolled her shoulders. I will find you, Eris, and make you pay for what you said about Epi and our Dads. Pandora thought.

Find her fast, Pan. Or I’m gonna go and kick her ass myself! Geirölul said.

Pandora smiled. Oh, I plan to.

 Far from the pair, Eris continued jogging, trying to put distance between herself and where Logoi and Phonoi were destroyed. The crowd of Eris clones around her continued peeling away from her, eyeing her as they vanished into alleyways and buildings.

Eris’ face scrunched up, frustrated. Well, that happened quicker than planned. I wasn’t expecting the clones to join in the fray either. She glanced to her right and left. None of my clones are out in the open. She slowed to a halt. Let’s see… She saw the Pandora clones grabbing her roots and tearing them off before crawling on her, their hands stabbing into her and ripping away. Then, another Pandora, the real one, flew up at her before everything went black. The one that killed Logoi was the real one, but clones killed Algos? I thought the clones could tell who were the real ones and who weren’t!

She resumed her jog.

My clones can tell me apart from the rest. I imagine Panny’s can do the same. Rule Three stated that the clones would start attacking the real opponent if too many were destroyed…

She turned the curb and saw a few of her clones. They looked her way and immediately ran in the opposite direction.

“Hmmm…” She muttered. “Interesting…” The clones are reacting to me in such a way. They’re trying to survive, too. Cleveeeeer. A layer of deception on top of another!

She smiled as she turned her attention to a building to her left, eyeing the wooden door.

Set, you’re fun…lots of fun.

She walked over, opened it, and looked inside.

Over a dozen Pandora clones turned their attention to her. All the Eris clones stood in the back.

She sighed. “Well…maybe not that fun.”

She summoned two apples, tossed them towards the back of the room, turned around, and immediately broke into a sprint. The Clones froze, their glances shifting between the open door and the two apples arching over their heads.

Just before they could move, vines shot out of the descending apples towards two of the Eris clones, piercing through them and pulling themselves in.

The Pandora clones turned towards the captured Eris clones and rushed them.

Valhalla Arena

Game Master Box Seats

 “Hmmm…” Apollo said, watching Pandora and her growing army run across the city. “Set, I think something’s wrong with the contest.”

“What makes you say that?” Set asked.

“The rules at the start stated the Clones would only attack the originals if too many were destroyed. For my understanding, that means the Clones should only be attacking the real Eris or Pandora, right?”

“That is the rule, yes. Heimdall verified that everything is working as intended.”

“If that’s true, then why did the clones work together to kill two of those creatures? Surely, they’d just run away like the Eris clones.”

“The clones have self-preservation built in. It helps make finding the real one a challenge and dissuades large-scale attacks, alongside the threat of retaliation. However, there are loopholes, and it seems both of them are figuring them out.”

“Aaaaah…I don’t understand.”

Set sighed. “Forgive my tone, Apollo.”

“No hard feelings here. I have found another thing I can learn and improve upon!”

Set could not help smiling. “Pandora realized that the clones turning aggressive does not make them stupid. They collaborated to kill the first Chrysógonoi, and that means it could be possible for her to work with them.”

Apollo snapped his fingers. “So they’re learning how to weaponize the Clones against each other!”

“…That was the point from the start, but the how is purely up to them. However, what Eris is doing shows she is adapting just as fast, if not faster.”

 Valhalla Arena

Greek Box Seats

 “It seems Eris is turning her clones into ‘clones,’” Hermes said, rubbing his chin.

“Hold, what?” Ares asked.

“What a bizarre strategy,” Zeus said. “But it seems to be working.”

“What strategy?! They’re already clones!”

Hermes raised his hands, palms up. On his left, a clear glass statue of Eris appeared. “Yes, but they’re clones formed by the arena,” Hermes said. “They’re completely at the mercy of this fight’s rules.” Another one appeared on his right, dyed a deep red.

“Eris’ power to create those monsters is turning them into a new kind; a type that tricks the Pandoras into thinking the ‘fakes’ are ‘real.’” Hermes tapped his index finger on the foot of the clear statue, and it turned red. “By using those apples to turn the ‘fakes’ into ‘real,’ they are indistinguishable from the real Eris.”

“So…the rules…are forcing the Pans to attack all those monsters?”

“Exactly.”

Ares groaned. “This is making my head hurt…”

“While it sounds bad, it doesn’t necessarily mean Eris has a guaranteed win condition. Look there.”

Zeus pointed at the growing army of Pandoras. “Even if Pan doesn’t know where the real Eris is, they do. Only question is…can Eris make enough of those monsters to divert Pan, or will Pan tear through them all to get her?”

Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

“Hilde, how did Pan do that stuff with the arrows?” Göll asked. “Is that her power as a Goddess?”

“No, and Pan’s not a Goddess,” Brünhilde said. “That is Geirölul’s power.” A confident smirk grew across her face. “Her Rune, The One Charging Forth with the Spear, grants her power over directions.”

“So those arrows…let her move in the direction they point?”

Brünhilde looked at her sister. “Good guess, Göll. Pandora’s monstrous raw power and Geir’s ability created the Völund:

 PANORAMA PANKRATIAST

Pan’s able to control the direction she moves, even in mid-air. There’s literally no way she can’t move, no way she can’t apply her optimal strength, no way she can’t take down anything in a single hit!”

Her smirk devolved into a manic grin, and frightened her sister.

“I can’t wait to see her punch that smug cow right in the face again.” No one talks shit about our Dads, except us.

“So this will be easy for Pan and Geir, then?” Göll asked, her eyes lighting up from the realization.

Her older sister sighed. “I wish. This combination is necessary to deal with Heaven’s Vilest Genius. I want to say Eris is a vapid cow, but she’s done as much as she has because she’s smart. Too smart, and I think things would be better if she wasn’t.”

Göll could hear the tinge of sadness in her voice. Hilde…I know I don’t know everything that happened between you and Pan. I’m scared to ask, but…what did Eris do to make you both this angry?

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 Eris looked back, seeing nothing but an empty street behind her, but hearing the growing cacophony of screams from the building she had run from.

Let’s see if my theory holds up— Her thought was interrupted.  

A single Pandora skidded into the street, her eyes lit with rage.

“Found you!” She roared.

Eris looked ahead and sighed.  

Looks like just one. She thought.

It sprinted towards her, and she smiled.

Wait. Let’s try something.

Eris skidded to a halt and crouched down, arms spread wide.

The Pandora swung right at her face.

Eris dropped to her right knee, ducking the punch, and slammed her shoulder into the Pandora’s stomach. She hoisted her up and slammed her on the ground, then rolled away.

The Pandora wheezed and coughed as she rolled onto her hands and knees.

Eris scanned the area before bolting back towards her target. She jumped on her back, hooking her feet on the inside of the Pandora’s thighs, and slipped her arms into a perfect rear-naked choke.

That tackle didn’t make you go boom! She thought as the pair rolled over. The Pandora started scraping at her arms and flailing her hands up at Eris’s face.

You may be strong, but don’t forget all I worked on to get this far!

She tightened her choke.

A few seconds passed, and the flailing stopped.

Eris tossed her over and got to her feet. She stared down at the unconscious clone, her mind racing.

Those bastards! She thought. You set me up! AGAIN! The rules are so generic: You didn’t even define what ‘being struck by an attack’ meant! If locks, holds, and tackles don’t count, what else is being hidden from me?! Did they make this Round for HER?!

Her lips pulled back into a snarl. She walked over to the stirring clone, then raised her left foot.

I.WILL.NOT.BE.CHEATED.EVER.AGAIN!

Then, she stomped down. A nasty crack erupted from under her foot. She immediately turned around and flattened on the ground as the clone exploded in a blinding flash.

The building far behind her exploded, and two wooden monstrosities burst outward, battling the small army of Pandoras.

NOT BY ANYONE!

She rose to her feet, eyeing another of her clones. Fear marred her face as he slammed the door. Eris could hear something heavy moving behind it.

NOT BY SET!

She walked over to the door and kicked it, knocking it off its hinges and sending whatever was put behind it away.

NOT BY THAT BITCH, BRÜNHILDE!

She looked and saw more clones of herself and Pandora

AND ESPECIALLY NOT. YOU. YOU FAKE!

She flung her arms out, sending out more golden apples, her fury so palpable that even the Pandora clones flinched at her presence.

Resentment. A dangerous, monstrous sentiment. One that has led to the deaths and downfalls of many great souls. A state of being that, in its dangerous and easy way, feeds itself in perpetuity. It is said that resentment is a poison one takes in the belief it will kill the one they so despise. It is no virtue. No moral center that one can place at the foundation of their character.

Yet, many do. Many live off of resentment. It is a destructive fuel that motivates. It is a drug that vindicates the user while whittling away at their soul and joy. Few things can motivate a soul like it. To prove someone wrong. To prove that one is better. Not for personal growth, but for the twisted desire to stand above another.

So where does it come from? Many places, but the easiest and most dangerous place is…comparison.

And nothing destroys joy and births resentment like comparison.

And no one knows this better than Eris.

https://preview.redd.it/n8mwctqtxq8h1.png?width=567&format=png&auto=webp&s=1acf02fa8a74e6ba86dddea3c391220f14551391

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 I’m taking a few more of those teeth! Pandora thought. She weaved through the bustling crowd seamlessly, passing by several clones of herself and Eris without so much as a passing glance. She saw Eris touch her lip and scowl. Wondering when the last time you were hit?!

Huh. Eris thought. She got me good. Now she thinks she has the initiative. Then, her ears twitched. But, Panny, don’t you see?  She smiled as blood trickled from the side of her mouth. She flicked her right fingers, and another golden apple appeared. I am always one step ahead.

Pandora flashed through the crowd, stopping next to Eris’ left side, curled and twisted to the right.

Here! I’ll help you remember! Pandora thought.

Eris dropped the apple as Pandora fired her right first at her head. Eris took a small step back, watching the first pass in front of her.

As Pandora started pulling it back, the apple hit the ground and started glowing. Pandora’s eyes immediately turned to it. Eris wound her left fist and smashed it into Pandora’s cheek.

“Have fun, Panny!” Eris said. Suddenly, the apple exploded, releasing a cloud of bellowing smoke.

Pandora jumped back, coughing.

Damn it! She thought. She breathed deeply, and her fury subsided. Guess it’s time to get this game going.

Her eyes darted in every direction. She fought the urge to touch her swelling cheek and flowed back into the crowd.

I’m going to get you. Be ready.

Far away, near one of the stands, an Eris marveled at a bushel of Red Delicious apples manned by another Eris.

“What do you think?” The proprietor asked.

“They look fresh to me,” The other whispered back. “But I’ve seen better.”

“I doubt that. Nothing beats my stock.”

The pair watched a group of Pandoras pass by, laughing and taking in the city.

“They look like they’re having fun.”

“Makes me want to puke.”

“Gaggling around each other. Must be nice.”

“Misery loves company, as they say.”

The shopper huffed and walked off.

Another Eris walked past the crowd, pulling out her tablet. She raised it and took a picture of herself with a peace sign.

These clones… Eris thought, hiding in the crowd. Are really acting like us. Not only are they doing things we’d do, but even talking like us. Guess that means I have to play along. She sighed. A straight-up fight is boring, but I don’t want this to last too long. Her brow rose in excitement. Oh…I know what I can do.

 Valhalla Arena

Greek Box Seats

 “Hey, uh, Hermes?” Ares asked as the two stood behind Zeus. “Can you make out anything going on down there?”

“Hmmm, it seems the two are still trying to figure things out. However, that blow from Pandora was strong, but not something to kill with,” Hermes answered. “And it seems the confusion caused by the initial exchanges kept them both from taking the lead.”

“Quite. Her power matches Dionysus and Ares, but she’s not trying to win with a single blow,” Zeus said.

“Sir?”

“Both are making a point,” Zeus said, stroking his beard. “Pandora’s strong enough to kill most Gods with one punch, but she held back to remind Eris of who she is dealing with, and Eris is one of the few Gods of Chaos that truly earns the moniker.”

“You think so, Sir?”

“I do. Eris is too arrogant for her own good, but that arrogance comes from her strength as much as her wit and wiles. She’s dangerous, but so is Pandora.” He grew a nasty grin. “I can’t wait to see what happens.”

Dad, that’s your granddaughter down there! Ares thought. He looked down at the arena, watching all the Pandoras. Some smiling, some eating, and some shopping. His eyes shifted from one to the next, his heart racing. Don’t lose, Pan.

 

Valhalla Arena

Game Master Box Seats

 

Not too far from Zeus, Set sat in his chair, groaning as his tablet continued vibrating in his hand.

Of course, this would happen… He thought. It was bad when I announced the Roster, but this is getting absurd.

Apollo glanced his way. “Something the matter?” He asked.

“Several among the Heaven’s Upper Echelons are up in arms over Eris. When I announced the Roster, several of them tried to attack me and force me to change it. Perun, Ukko, Ahura Mazda, Oludumare, and even Odin. Were it not for Zeus and Hades stepping in, things would have devolved into another Apocalypse.”

“An Apocalypse? What’s that?”

“Not important. What was important was ensuring the Roster stayed the way it was.”

“I can see why they would be upset. The pair down there is a bit controversial. Both beautiful in their own ways, but they make everything around them rather ugly.”

“Precisely.”

“Pardon?”

“Manhunt is not a competition meant for the admired. It is the game of criminals. Deviants and whatnot. Long ago, such a game was entertainment for the Chthonic Gods down in Helheim. Forcing two prisoners to fight each other and survive the mobs hunting them both.”

Apollo’s nose scrunched up a little. “Revolting.”

Set nodded. “Yama put a stop to it, but for someone like Eris, it is the perfect environment for her to shine.” His eyes squinted in revulsion. And die.

Apollo turned back to the arena, his eyes already locking onto the real Pandora and Eris.     “Odd.”

“What is?”

“I’m sensing some vitriol from you for a fellow God of Chaos. I would think like minds means like-minded.”

“I will regard that as a joke. Eris is suffering and discord incarnate. The worst kind of chaos. It is unstable. Destructive even. True chaos is change and potential. The forward motion of progress that enables growth and innovation. Such chaos existing is what enabled you to become who you are, Apollo.”

He smiled. “That’s true!”

“That…and she spits on the Godly Standard, and I cannot abide that.”

The Godly Standard. It was an unspoken belief among the Gods that in matters of great import, they must carry themselves with a sense of gravitas and act well-mannered. The Supreme and Chief Gods of the established Pantheons, their retinues, and the lone wolves who made names for themselves through their feats. They respect this and conduct themselves accordingly.

Why?

They are the ones in power. They make the rules.

Why bother?

Simple. In their world, those at the top are seen as representations of their peoples. When done right, it is the greatest source of satisfaction possible for a God. To be looked on in awe and fear. To have no one deny your greatness in might and manner. To be at the top, one must act like it to truly enjoy it.

This truth is why many Supreme and Chief Gods were cross with Zeus and Set for being left off the Roster. Such a slap in the face, the chance to present why they were the rulers of the Heavens, could not go unanswered. Especially when the one Goddess who scoffs at decorum more than any other, who sees herself above it, now represents them, and she knows it. Revels in it even. Because she, more than anyone else, knows her power and strength. Knows the poison hiding behind her words and actions, and how to use it.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 Eris, feeling the pain subside, walked through the crowd, falling into its flow.

Can’t draw attention. She thought. She’s already got one blow on me. But… She scanned her copies of her peripherals, keeping her cadence in rhythm while focusing on the back of one Pandora’s head. It seems the clones copy our wounds. It would be too easy otherwise. She felt something piercing through her gums and grinding against her teeth. I can work that to my advantage…but if I take too long, she could find out how my powers work and build a plan. Her right eye twitched as a wicked smile with perfect teeth grew across her face. I wish you were as dumb as your dad was ugly, Panny. If you were, this would be easier, but not nearly as fun.

She flicked her wrists, and two more golden apples appeared. Let’s spice this up a bit. She tapped a pair of Eris clones on their shoulders and passed the apples to them. She placed her index finger on her lips, signaling their silence, and walked through the crowd. The two looked at each other, shrugged, and continued.

Far from her, in a stoa adorned with marble columns and full of merchant stalls and wagons, Pandora found herself in peril. A terrible choice stood before her on the shelves as one of her clones stood to her left, and the bustle of the Stoa’s central path flowed behind her. Such a choice haunted her every day and was a near-endless source of anxiety.

Pastels…or Jewel tones.

She lifted a ruby blouse from the stall, unfolded it, and rested it across her body, checking the color.

“Ruby is our color,” Pandora’s clone said. “But I miss wearing Baby Pink.”

“I know,” Pandora said, defeated. “I loved wearing Periwinkle, but alas, Hilde is dead set on preventing that.”

“Didn’t we fight her about that?”

“We did. I think I concussed her, but she fractured my ribs.” She smiled wistfully. “I miss those days.”

“Me too. I think that fight wouldn’t have happened if we knew why she was so damn determined to make us change our wardrobe.”

“I mean, Dad’s a genius inventor, but we got his taste in clothes. If it does the job, why worry?”

Uh…Pan? Geirölul asked in her mind. What’re we doing?

“Right?!” The pair chuckled. “But…it caught his attention.”

 Valhalla

Olympus

Eons Ago

Pandora and Brünhilde were walking down one of the stone paths connecting Zeus’ temple with the training grounds he wished he could frequent more. Both were covered in bruises, and Brünhilde sported a blackened left eye. Pandora was pouting, staring down at the sapphire blue blouse she was forced to wear.

She turned to scowl at Brünhilde, but her eyes caught someone else. In the near distance, a tall blonde titan with gentle orange eyes quickly turned his attention from her and continued walking away from the pair. She paused for a second, confused, but shrugged and kept walking.

 Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 “He was so shy! You’d think my seeing him staring would be a crime or something!”

“Didn’t he try apologizing for it later?”

Pan? Geirölul asked.

“He did! But he said it was because…” The pair and every other Pandora blushed a little while small smiles grew on their faces. “We looked lovely in it.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, of course we did!”

PAN! Geirölul yelled.

Yeah, Geir? Pandora asked, still conversing with her clone.

What’re we doing?! We need to find Eris!

Do you see her?

Geirölul scanned the area without being seen, eyeing the crowd of Pandoras and Eris’ walking around the area. The constant awful looks each of the Eris’ shot at the other Pandora twisted her gut in irritation.

I see a lot of her.

But not the real one. Pandora nodded to her clone and laid the blouse back down, turning away and joining the crowd. She’s hiding amongst them. Drawing attention to ourselves or just punching at random will make things worse. We need to draw her out, or…

Or what?

Pandora shot a wry look while checking the other stalls, eyeing each of the Eris clones.

Or we wait for her to get impatient.

Geirölul flashed a wicked grin. And we crush her!

Exactly.

Pandora continued walking along with the crowd, checking each stall as she went. She scanned each Eris that entered her sight, staying careful not to focus on them for too long. Her gaze would occasionally drift to her clones, and she checked each one of them.

…Nothing weird yet. It seems these clones even copy our habits. She saw one Pandora tapping her foot in front of a stall run by an Eris.

Is that important?

It means we can’t trust tells. If these clones are that faithful to the real ones, nothing’s going to give Eris away, except—      

A pair of nasty screams erupted from far behind her. She froze in shock, and her eyes quickly scanned the crowd as cries of anguish and pain filled the air.

All of their clones turned and looked toward the screams. Pandora quickly did the same.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

A Few Seconds Earlier

“What a pretty apple,” An Eris said, twirling the golden apple in her fingers. “I wonder what I could sell—”

Roots shot out of the stem and stabbed into her hand.

“What the HELL?! AAAAAAA!” She screamed so loudly and so hard that she lost control of her voice as the roots swam under her skin. More roots shot out and dug into her arm, while a few wrapped around her wrist. Blood poured out of the puncture wounds, and her skin started tearing as more and more roots and vines pierced her body. The crowd around her scrambled away from her as she tried to reach out to the others.

Another loud cry joined hers. Several meters away, another Eris was trying to pull the other apple after it bit down on her hand with a maw of jagged, bark-like fangs.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” She roared as it pulled more of her hand and arm into its mouth. “LET. ME. GOOOOOO!” It sped up, biting up and devouring more of her arm, growing as it ate. She crumbled to the ground as the apple reached her shoulder. She let out one last scream as the apple opened its maw one more time, pulling her head and shoulders into it, and bit down. Her muffled screams tried to escape as it lurched up, holding her overhead. It opened its mouth, and her torso fell in. Then her upper legs.

Then she was gone.

The other Eris watched on in horror as the roots reached her neck, crawling under her skin and exiting out of her mouth, ears, eyes, and nose.  The rest of the roots and vines wrapped around her mangled body, forming a monstrous makeshift cocoon.

Pandora watched on in silent horror. The massive golden apple rolled back onto its blossomed end as blood trickled from its mouth.

Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

Now

 What in the absolute fuck is going on?! Geirölul yelled in Pandora’s mind.

Then, to their horror, the apple’s golden skin started tearing and cracking. Something jostled and shook underneath, as if desperate to escape. The cocoon nearby wobbled and creaked as something inside pushed and clawed at its interior.

Eris. Pandoras answered.

The golden exterior exploded, and…something…plopped to the ground. It unfurled, a viscous liquid-covered monstrosity, its skin like soft tree bark. Its twisted, contorted head had a toothy maw like the apple sitting where its forehead would be. Below that was a ring of golden eyes frantically darting in every direction. Three massive, three-fingered arms lifted its bent torso while what could only be called legs hung lifeless.

“Paaaaaaaan……doooooooooooraaaaaa….” It gurgled out. “Wheeeeeere aaaaaaare youuuuu…”

Its skin darkened and stiffened as the liquid fell off its contorted form.

 Phonoi Kormos

“Murder”

 Then, the cocoon broke into pieces and…something…crawled out. Four thin roots shot out and stabbed the ground. They lifted a twisted, apple-shaped mass of bark out of the cocoon with a dozen more roots spilling out of its mouth. Five twitching golden eyes appeared on one side of its head, while three peered through its bark on the other.

“Weeeee….waaaant….to seeeeee….Youuuuu,” It hissed.

Algos Rhiza

“Pain”

 Algos’ roots shot into the crowd, stabbing into several Pandoras and Erises. The Pandoras all vanished instantly while the Eris clones flailed and went lifeless. It pulled the roots back and started skittering rapidly into the crowd. Several of the clones panicked and fled, while a few were skewered and tossed as it moved.

In Pandora’s direction.

It’s coming… Geirölul said.

Well aware! Pandora thought as she sprinted with the crowd.

Phonoi roared as it jumped towards a fleeing crowd. It landed, smashing several Eris and Pandoras underfoot. More pops and flashes erupted from below, but none of the Eris clones vanished.

Several meters away from the growing panic, Eris sat at a small table drinking tea, smug and content. Dozens of clones ran past her, and she smiled as she rose. She started walking and broke into a light jog soon after

Just those two will be enough. She thought. Looks like my little experiment paid dividends. I can’t use Pandora clones as soil, but my own…Ooooh! I love it! She eyed her clones, seeing the panic across their faces. Ugh…have some class, you fakes. Then again, fakes can’t have class, can they, Panny? She smiled, satisfied with her work as another apple appeared in her right hand.

“Hey!” She yelled at one of her clones.

It turned to look at her.

“Catch!” She gently lobbed it towards her.

The clone caught it on instinct, and it split open, shooting roots at her face.

 Valhalla Arena

Game Master Box Seats

 Apollo covered his mouth. “Chrysógonoi…” He muttered.

“The Golden Brood…” Set said, his voice full of contempt. “A disgusting power. Apples nourished by her malevolence and compelled to carry it out, in whatever way they can.”

“I fought these creatures before, but had no idea where they came from. They came from her?”

Set nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“I have not seen such a power since Loki, but this…is ugly. Has she always had this power?”

“I do not know. I only know that it is a monstrous power that guaranteed her imprisonment in the Circles because of the untold destruction she wrought on Olympus long ago. Along with her other crimes.

 Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

Now

 Pandora sprinted alongside her clones, Algos crawling through the crowd behind her and decimating the surrounding buildings. Debris and corpses filled the air and littered the ground behind her as she tried to gain distance.

Pan, we need to use the Völund! Geirölul asked.

No! If we do, she’ll single us out, and those things will be on us like flies. We need to stay hidden!

We can’t stay hidden if they kill every clone between them and us!

Pandora turned the corner with her clones and ducked into an alley. She slid behind a large pile of rubble and paused. Algos and Phonoi’s footsteps echoed around her, shaking the foundations of the buildings she hid between as more and more explosions filled the air.

We’ve got to think of something, Geir. Pandora thought. They can’t be going around randomly!

Why not?! She’s a God of Chaos! Randomness is her thing!

Geir, do you hate someone?

…I mean, I hate a lot of people.

So, you’ll let some random thing kill someone you hate beyond reason, or make sure it happens?

…

There you go. There’s some method to this madness. And we’ll—

She froze. Her mind went completely silent, and she held her breath.

Pan? What’s… Geirölul looked around the rubble. …Oh crap!

A set of golden eyes peered down the alley.

We were so busy talking that we didn’t notice that one of them stopped moving!

“Cooooooooooome ouuuuuuuut, Paaaaaaaaany,” Algos said, purring.

Pandora’s eyes widened.

It’s voice!

That’s fucking Eris!

“Weeeeee juuuuuuuust waaaaaant toooo plaaaaaay.”

Its mouth roots slithered to the ground and moved into the alley. As they moved, eyes appeared and scanned the alley.

Pan…

What? Pandora thought, smiling.

PAN…

The roots were closing in on them.

I like playing!

Why does that matter?!

Because Geir… One of the roots slithered past her and froze immediately when its eyes locked on her.

Algos screeched and its tentacles fired towards her.

How many clones have been killed now?

Pandora placed her hand on the wall, and an arrow pointing upwards appeared under her palm. She fired upwards as the tentacles stabbed through the rubble.

She flew up, grabbed the building’s ledge and rolled onto the roof. She broke into a sprint as Algos screeched again.

Then, something smashed into Algos, sending it toppling over. Its eyes darted towards the source.

Another Pandora, leering at it. Three more appeared from the surrounding buildings and rushed it.

Algos shot its roots at the oncoming horde, tearing through a few, while the others dodged them. The destroyed clones exploded, the flashes blinding the monster. They reached Algos' flailing limb-like roots while more appeared and ensnared its roots.

“Leeeeet goooo!” It roared.

One of the Pandoras smiled, then tightened its grip. Pain and terror shot through Algos’ body.

“LEEEEET GOOO!”

“NOT A CHANCE!” The clone roared. It ripped the root off, and Algos screamed. The other Pandoras followed suit.

Another root.

Then two more.

A few more right after.

Algos screamed all the while.

Geirölul shuddered as she looked on. Geez, Pan…that’s…a lot.

“If those clones really are like me, then they can’t help it. I like playing, Geir, and when I play, I play rough.”

 Mount Aetna

Hephaestus sat in his workshop, feeling his stomach turn as Algos was torn to shreds.

“I always had a rough time keepin’ her from destroying her toys,” Hephaestus whispered.

 Valhalla Arena

Human Bleachers

“I think I’m going to be sick…” A woman in a business suit said, covering her mouth.

“Disgusting…” A samurai near her whispered.

“Of course, she would resort to such violence,” An older man in a toga said, stroking his beard.

“So, was she supposed to do it gracefully?” Brünhilde said above them. “Or perhaps heroically?”

The Humans turned up to her, leering down at them as a vein popped up on her forehead.

“Those monsters aren’t hunting you down, are they? It’s easy to say how we should do things from such lofty positions.”

“Wait, you’re Brünhilde!” The samurai said. “You’re the one who sent Muramasa!”

“He asked to go.” Brünhilde descended the steps, leaving Göll behind and standing across from him. “Picking a fight?”       

“Uh…Hilde?” Göll said.

“You sent that hellion to fight on our behalf when there are far more worthy warriors. The ones before her—”

“Fought as they felt they should and how they believed. Pandora is not going to pretend to be someone else to make people like her. Like Muramasa and the others, she’s down there because she wants to fight for Humanity, despite how you feel about her. But if you feel so inclined to criticize her.” She popped her knuckles. “Then fight me.”

HILDE! Göll yelled in her mind, panicking.

The samurai scoffed and sat down. Brünhilde turned and walked back up to Göll, the latter feeling her sister’s rage emanating from her being.

“Göll.”

“Y…yeah?”

“Pan’s my friend, and while we are fighting for Humanity, our sisters and I will fight Humanity for her. Never forget that.”

“Uh...sure.” I didn’t know Hilde cared that much for Pan. Actually, I didn’t know you two were friends until now. Göll looked down at the decimation below. What else don’t I know about you, Hilde?

 Valhalla Arena

Battlegrounds

 That whore! Eris yelled mentally, feeling a tinge of pain in her chest as Algos’ life sputtered out. How dare she and her cabal of monsters do that to Algos! She looked to her left, staring down at a small tree growing out of the stomach of another Eris corpse. You’re going to take a little while. Good thing I have another one ready to go just…about…

A scream in a nearby alley quickly devolved into a gurgling rattle.

Now.

Another distorted ball of gnarly bark shot up out of the alley into the open sky. It unfurled into a small trunk with long, sprawling bare branches connected by a thin gold film. The trunk flowered out into a torso with lifeless arms flailing in the air. A bulbous head drooped down from it, and eyes opened all over it while the crown flowered into a tooth-filled maw.

It inhaled a massive amount of air, and the film inflated into a translucent golden balloon.

You won’t hide forever, Panny…not from this.

The Chrysógonoi twisted its neck, sealing the air in.

“Ladies and Gentlemen….” It spoke in Eris’ voice, echoing across the arena.

“Wait, what the?!” Heimdall yelled. “I’m the announcer and referee he—”

“Shall I tell you the tale….”

Eris smiled as she broke into a sprint opposite Phonoi’s rampage.

Pandora stopped in her tracks, staring up at the new abomination.

“Of how one woman damned…”

Its face twisted and its eyes squinted in pure glee.

Of course, you would. Pandora thought. Enjoying this, aren’t you?

“The man she loved more than anyone else?”

Logoi Karpos

“Words”

https://preview.redd.it/ivm28ip4h48h1.png?width=565&format=png&auto=webp&s=f3d5ae34552fa6654cfecf8acb8aebc9d9dc93dc

Why did the Gods create Humanity?

An easy question asked, but a difficult one to answer definitively. Even amongst the Gods themselves, there is no hard and fast answer. Some believe they created Humanity to act as a servant race, others simply on a whim because they could. Few ever considered, nay, humored, the possibility that Humanity was created as a successor race to the Gods. They were weaker, smaller, lived shorter lives, and lacked the supernatural abilities of their creators among a myriad of other shortcomings. Before the Gods were the Primordial Gods, ancient, powerful beings whose bodies became the foundation of the cosmos when their own great power overwhelmed them.

Following their destruction, Gods, Titans, Demons, and many other races were born from the Ether and established Valhalla, Midgard, and Helheim. While weaker than their predecessors, these races proved capable of honing and controlling their power, making them in some ways superior. If that's the case, then could not the same be said of Humanity? Weaker than before, but also stronger than before. Why did the Primordial Gods have such power only to die under their weight? Why did their power give birth to the other races? Were the Gods suffering from a built-in compulsion to continue the cycle of succession? Did they subconsciously know Humanity would one day surpass them?

These questions sat within the mind of a single lone Titan living out his days chained to a rock. The sun loomed overhead with only a few clouds in the blue sky. He would always hope that the clouds would block the sun, but more often than not, his hopes were dashed. The bright sun was the only thing that could break his train of thought and pull him back into the dreary reality of his situation. In some ways, he preferred it to death; in others, the monotony made death seem like a relief.

However, once he reclaimed his internal questions, he would dive back into them, tuning out the world. There were times he was so focused on his intellectual pursuits, he could actually ignore the eagle as it flew overhead. It descended, hungry for its daily feast. It landed next to him, eyeing his stomach, then tried to meet Prometheus' spaced-out gaze. Knowing it had no threat to its next meal, it stared straight down and dug its beak into the imprisoned Titan's torso. The act was still painful, but Prometheus soldiered on, refusing to let his thoughts stray towards the pain. He could feel the eagle's violent tug, the tearing of flesh and muscle, the beak clipping away at the liver's connective tissue to the rest of his body.

Soon, it would stop, and he was once more deprived of his liver. The eagle swallowed it whole, its eyes widening as it choked down the fatty piece of godly flesh. It screeched, then flew off. Blood poured from the open wound, but Prometheus knew the wound was already starting to heal. By nightfall, he would be whole once more.

These questions inspired his desire to see what Humanity could do. It was these questions that convinced him they needed a chance to assert their position as a valid existence. These questions compelled him to give them fire and knowledge. However, they still needed a guide. His efforts were cut short, and he was unable to save them from themselves. Poor Adam and Eve…had he known of their plight, he could have saved them and prevented the loss of such raw potential to the wilderness of Midgard. Their descendants fared no better. They took his gifts and squandered them, but he knew they could be saved. He could save them, and through him they would find salvation. He could lead them, and together they could rise to the top of the Heavens. Humanity would thrive, with Prometheus to guide them as their ruler.

At least until the next successor comes. Then Prometheus would do the same again. First the Titans, then the Gods, and someday Humanity. After all, it does not matter where it comes from or what it's made of; deadwood is deadwood. It must be burnt up, or else the ensuing wildfire will consume all, and only Prometheus knew where and when to burn it.

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

The air continued to cool within the arena. The air surfacing Prometheus' body rippled ever so slightly amongst the dreary cold. The furthest torches from him extinguished, and the room went dark. The only source of light was Prometheus' glowing hair and eyes, the shapes contorting as an unseen, massive, near-psychotic look of pure mania grew on his face.

Prometheus crouched down, the air rippling behind him as he moved. He kicked off the ground, sending stone and ice flying behind him. He collided into Vlad's chest, the metallic armor scalding and sizzling from the heat. Vlad fought back against the pain and heat, digging his feet into the ground to stop the charge. He reversed his swords to aim the points down. He quickly stabbed down, but Prometheus spread his arms out, blocking both of Vlad's arms. He quickly turned his arms and slammed both his hands into Vlad's cheeks, scalding them.

Vlad bit down just in time; despite the burns, his jaw did not break or dislocate. He stumbled back a little, and a powerful force slammed into his solar plexus, sending him flying. He landed hard against the ground, skipping along it like a stone across a pond. Vlad came to a halt and scrambled to his feet. He could hear metal flying towards him, but the pitch-black darkness hid it.

He had no choice but to duck deep in hopes he could avoid the attack. The chain flew overhead and nicked the column behind him. A loud crack and bright flash erupted on contact. The temporary light illuminated the arena in front of him; Vlad could see Prometheus with both chains now unfurled.

"Guess that little gift of yours doesn't work when you can't actually see me," Prometheus said. "Untrained and unrefined. Pitiful." Vlad threw one of his swords towards the spot where he saw Prometheus. Prometheus caught it between his right index and middle finger. "Please continue. I love being proven right."

He threw the blade behind his back. It fell to the ground, clanging away as it went.

Vlad's power could not make out Prometheus. His inner darkness melded perfectly with the arena. Prometheus pulled his right chain back, whipping it against the stone floor as it returned. He started twirling and whipping both chains, the gale of soaring metal enveloping him and littering the air with noise. One chain soared towards Vlad again. He stepped to the side, and it flew past him, but the second found home. However, luck seemed to be on his side…to an extent. The chain had not fully unfurled when it struck him. It smashed into the joint connecting his left shoulder to his torso. The brief flash of light burned his eyes as he flew back and slammed into the column.

Pain coursed from the spot; his shoulder was dislocated. The armor spared him from a broken bone. He stumbled to his feet and raced around to the other side of the column. Placing his right hand in his left armpit, he raised it hard and fast. With a nasty pop, it was back in its slot, and he could move it again.

"Geirölul! I cannot see him!" Vlad said. Prometheus' chains continued to whip at the column, its stony surface giving way. He was playing with the two. He could easily hit them if he whipped his chain around the column.

"Shit! I can't either!" She yelled.

"We have no choice. Are you still able to tell where you are at least!?" Geirölul focused her mind. She could feel them. The blades were strewn about all over the arena, the sword in Vlad's hand, and the one behind Prometheus. All of them.

"I can!"

"Then I place my life in your hands. Please focus on every blade if you can. We especially need to find the cloak."

"Do you know what you're asking for!? I could overload my brain with this ploy!"

"I would never ask this of you if I didn't believe in you."

Geirölul grumbled and was glad Vlad could not see the slight blush and teeth-grinding. "Fine! You owe me for this!"

It happened, just like he believed.

Lights, all around him. In the walls, the floor, and some were even stuck in the columns and ceiling. The sword glowing in his hand filled him with hope. He may not be able to see Prometheus directly, but looking for a dark spot in a brightly lit room was good enough. Vlad ran to his left, ducking under another chain strike. He continued to run, hoping to create some distance from his opponent. He scanned the area as quickly as he could, hoping to find what he needed. Amongst the many small shining lights, he found it. A massive cluster sat in the center of the arena. He had to get it if he wanted to survive, but he had to wait for the right moment. He could hear the chains striking away at the columns as he ran, the brief flashes and blasts getting closer each time. Prometheus was not letting him escape.

"You're a piss-poor example of humanity's potential, Vlad! Consumed and distorted by your own gift. What a waste… sadly, I've dealt with many like you before!" Prometheus whipped a chain at the area well ahead of Vlad. The strike tore away at the stone. The debris flew into Vlad's path and struck him. He stumbled to the side, but recovered quickly and continued running. "All of them rabid dogs like you, tearing apart the world and indiscriminately butchering their own kin. I shall do Humanity a favor, as I've done before and will do again, and erase the embarrassment that is your existence."

Prometheus crossed his arms, swinging his chains around each other. They looped around one another, faster and faster the closer they got to the end. Right at the end, the two ends slammed into each other, releasing a powerful wave of heat, light, and force. 

"Fotiá Lámpsis (Radiant Fire)!" The concussive wave of heat threw Vlad against the wall. He could smell some of his hair burning away, but he quickly patted it out. "I'm not done!" Prometheus quickly pulled his chains apart, the coiled metal coming undone at high speed. As they unwound, light travelled down the chains, fully enveloping them. As the two chains ripped away from each other, Prometheus swung his arms all the way back and over his head.

"Speiroeidís Ékrixi (Spiral Burst)!" The chains swung at high speed, stretching all the way out. They flew towards the walls and columns. They then flew through them. The scorching heat of the chains cleaved through the stone like butter.

"This is insane, everyone! First, Prometheus soaked up all the heat, and now he's throwing it all at Vlad with these crazy moves while tearing the arena apart! I don't know what's going to give first; Vlad, the arena, or even me!? It's like a freezer in here!" Heimdall shouted, trying to stay out of the way of the blaze and metal.

Prometheus swung and twirled his arms, pulling the chains back towards him. Both coiled around him effortlessly, and their glow dimmed. Prometheus now stood at the epicenter of what could only be called devastation. Several of the columns were cut in twain and partially melted. The walls bore large and long gashes running parallel to the wall. Large and small chunks of stone are strewn about everywhere. He took in his work, surveying it slowly. His mirthless, smug grin never wavered.

"What a tragedy. Another Human destroyed by his own ignorance. Don't you all see now?" Prometheus asked the unseen human audience. "You need me! Such power is dangerous. I cannot stop it from occurring, but I can…control it. Such a thing is necessary. You all see it now, right? What happens when there's no power above you all keeping things in check? Such beings like him appear. The depraved and broken." Something began to stir to Prometheus' right. He looked over, leering. Suddenly, something exploded out of the rubble and sprinted towards the center of the room towards a silver cloak. "Still alive? Guess my work isn't done just yet."

Valhalla Arena

Game Master’s Box Seats

"So that's what he was planning," Zeus said.

"Pardon?" Set asked as he looked down at his tablet, checking the score between the Fighters.

Prometheus 68%

Vlad Dracul Tepes 32%

He turned his attention back to Zeus.

"Prometheus is a Fire Titan. Not something particularly special since many beings are capable of wielding fire. Most of them were all talk, but he was different. Before I beat the snot out of him for the second time, he was doing something similar to this."

"Heat manipulation?"

"Correct. He was trying to find ways to neutralize my lightning through nonsense like this. Too bad he forgot…" Zeus' aura began to flood out from his wrinkled body. "I didn't need it for him."

"So he's learned how to absorb and disperse heat. Explains why the flames and lava cooled. I even saw some ice form."

"You're forgetting something," Yama said. Both looked at him. "Such a power is the transfer of energy. When such a thing happens, whatever it moves through suffers wear and tear. For all that power it gives him, it's also slowly breaking his body down. Look at him."

The three stared at the floating monitor above the audience. It was barely noticeable, and even to the trained eye, it was not easy to spot. The skin around Prometheus' eyes, mouth, and scalp was starting to crack. The skin covered by his chains showed the same degradation.

"Those who wield fire know better than anyone that reckless use will lead to death."

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

Vlad sprinted towards the glowing mass hidden by the rubble. Despite the destruction surrounding the two, he could still make out Geirölul's presence throughout the arena. He stopped in front of a few pieces of stone, picked them up and threw them away, and pulled out his cloak. He quickly attached it back to his shoulders as before and turned to face Prometheus, ready for the battle.

His stomach sunk. What was once a dark and empty void now glowed. It was not a soft glow as Geirölul or blindly incandescent as Zeus, but it was there. He started to see Prometheus' features, including the wounds Vlad inflicted earlier. 

I…I don't understand. What's going on? Vlad thought. Why is he shining?

"See something, Vlad? Something that doesn't make sense?" Prometheus asked, smiling. "That look you have is oddly nostalgic from my point of view. Please continue wearing it." The air around Prometheus began to ripple and churn. "It suits you!"

Prometheus dashed at full speed towards Vlad. Vlad's focus returned to the battle. He returned his sword to the space between his cloak and his back. He reached his other hand behind his back. Prometheus saw it and stopped immediately. The momentum flung out his arms, and the chains unwound. Both flew towards Vlad, but he twisted his body just in time to narrowly dodge the chains. Prometheus swung them towards each other as he jumped back. The force of the swings and his jump caused the thrown chains to intertwine faster than before. Vlad could not move out of the way in time, but he managed to cover his body with the silver cloak.

The chains slammed into his covered body, pushing him back with a heavy clang. He then felt them loop around his body. He tried to muscle out of them before they finished, but the attack moved too quickly to escape. Bound from waist to chest and both arms now held firmly against his torso, Vlad struggled to break free. Prometheus then pulled, his strength now easily pulling Vlad off his feet. He slid across the ground as Prometheus pulled him along.

"Hope this isn't too degrading for you!" Prometheus then gripped his chains firmly in his hand and swung again. Vlad felt the pull tighten the chains coiled around his body. He felt the ground vanish, and he began to fly. Prometheus swung him around in one massive loop again, and again. The force of the swing continued to grow with each rotation.

"This is bad, folks!" Heimdall said worriedly. "Vlad's been hog-tied and is now going on one of the worst tilt-a-whirls I've ever witnessed! Yet, he's still conscious!?"

 

Prometheus could see it in the brief moments Vlad was in his view. Vlad's contorted face was full of pain, but still conscious. He lurched and brought the chains down. Vlad followed quickly after and crashed into a nearby pile of rubble. He braced for it the best he could, but his body erupted with pain after contact. He felt the chains jerk him again, and he flew once more.

Prometheus was not letting him escape. Vlad smashed through another column and into the wall behind it. "Ready for the finale!?" Prometheus shouted. Prometheus pulled with all his strength, wrenching Vlad free from the wall. He sailed towards the Titan, who was now twisting his body to the right for a monstrous blow. Prometheus knew this blow would kill, and he knew Vlad could not pull weapons anymore while ensnared. "Goodbye, Vlad! I'll make sure we never suffer another defect like you again!"

"Vlad! Do something!" Geirölul shouted. He was sure of his victory. So sure that he had it that he believed everything up to this point was necessary. That hearing the slights and barbs was necessary. Vlad flew towards Prometheus. It was the pivotal moment he needed. It could only potentially work because Geirölul trusted him to use the ability of her Völund at his discretion.

Vlad braced himself for the collision, his face contorting from effort. He was only a meter or two away now. Prometheus swung forward, his right fist clenching the chain for additional power. It flew towards Vlad, but immediately stopped, then withdrew. A mass of spears and pikes erupted from the flying monster, all of them aimed in Prometheus' direction. He twisted and bent his body as fast as he could out of the way. He stepped, hopped, and jumped to avoid them all while trying to regain distance. His chain became taut. He looked at the ground near the spear- and chain-covered Vlad, seeing the cause. Several nail-thin spears jutted through several links at odd angles, holding them firmly in place.

"Vlad…just turned into a giant metallic durian!" Heimdall roared. He looked at his tablet for a second, checking the score.

Prometheus 61%

Vlad Dracul Tepes 39%

Sweat began to pour down Prometheus' brow. Shit! Prometheus thought. Where the hell did they come from!? I thought I stopped him from pulling out any more of those…damn…weapons? A nasty popping sound from Vlad caught Prometheus' attention. He felt the subtle movement in the chains. Vlad, with a re-dislocated shoulder and a slight opening in the chains caused by it, pulled all the spears back in save for the ones holding the chain down and violently shook off his bonds. He shrugged and popped his shoulder back in, barely showing any response to the act. He ran his fingers through his cloak, tearing into it and pulling out pieces of material. He threw the chunk in his left hand at Prometheus. As it left his hand, the silver material went rigid and hardened.

Prometheus' eyes widened. Shit! He tried to pull on the chains, but the dozens of thin spears holding them in place did not yield. He leaned back until he was parallel to the floor, holding himself up by his chains. The flying blades sailed overhead. He pulled himself back up, right into the path of a sword edge aimed right for his torso. He let go of the chains and let his feet slip out from beneath him. The sword's blade cut into the right side of his stomach and up to his left shoulder.

Blood sprayed from the cut. Prometheus winced in pain, but kept his focus. The cut wasn't deep enough to disembowel. He pulled again, dragging himself across the ground. He pulled far faster than he expected towards the spot where his chains were nailed down.

Was he panicking? Was the mighty Savior of Humanity panicking? He quickly got up, grasped the spears in both hands, and yanked them out of the ground. He chucked them back at Vlad. Gracefully, Vlad flung his cloak in front of the spears, and they melted into it. Hot air began to flow from Prometheus. His hair and eyes lost their glow. I ran out of time. This is bad. "Tricky bastard, aren't you?" Prometheus hissed.

Vlad said nothing. Rather, his response sent chills down Prometheus' spine. His face was devoid of emotion, save for his eyes. Both wide open, pupils dilated and staring straight at Prometheus. Like a predator on the hunt.

Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

"Sis! That was amazing!" Göll shouted.

"Hell yeah it was!" Brunhilde said, mimicking Vlad's face. Göll stepped away from her. "Vlad's now showing his true nature and what his Geirölul's Völund can really do."

"Exactly…is what I would say if I knew what was going on…"

Brunhilde reached out her left hand and twirled, as if holding an imaginary cloth in her hand. "Ever heard of memory cloth?"

"Not really. Is it like the tapestry the Fates use?"

"Not even close. Memory cloth is a material that you can mold to take on whatever shape you want it to. Normally, it's just used for clothing. However, Vlad and Geirölul took it as a concept and weaponized it, creating the Völund;

Scales of the Dragon's Scion

Their Völund created a cape made of memory cloth that can shape into whatever weapon they need!"

"That's amazing! But how is he molding the weapons so quickly like that? The ones he just threw changed shape mid-flight."

"Geirölul's power. The one granted by her name, One who Advances with a Spear. Her power over directional movement would normally be used to make something travel in a straight line as if thrown. However, she's applying it to the cloth, which she can 'direct' to shape and mold for Vlad. A shield, spears, throwing daggers, swords!? Nothing is impossible for them!"

"What a weird way to use it, but it seems pretty strong. There's one thing bothering me, though." Göll scratched her head. "Why does he look so worried?"

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

"Vlad, are you okay?" Geirölul said, her tone softer than before. He said nothing. His blank expression hid his turmoil on the surface, but could not hide anything from her. "We're linked now. I know what you're feeling. That bastard…you can see him now, can't you?" The sheer indignation before him threw his worldview into turmoil.

Why did Prometheus shine? Why was he shining in the same way as his family? As Zeus, and Geirölul? Nothing Vlad could think of made sense. He was not a light that illuminated the world, was he? Was his talk of saving Humanity genuine? Were they wrong in thinking he was just using them to build an army? Nothing made sense. What was the light he saw if not something good for existence!?

"Vlad…"

I don't know what's going on…nothing about this makes sense. But…I must fight and kill him. That's the only thing that does make sense at the moment…right? Vlad thought.

"You’re growing dim, and you know why," A voice from behind Vlad spoke. He recognized it, but did not turn to see the source. A child's voice, but hollow and full of spite. "He is just like Father, Mother, our big brothers, our wife, and Radu. Of course, he would shine with the same light."

"Vlad, who is that talking to you?" Geirölul asked, her voice growing concerned. The voice was unfamiliar.

"She can hear me? Of course, she can. You trusted her enough to perform the Völund. Sad to say, you're going to get her killed. What a shame for a light to die at the hands of such awful people."

He is nothing like our family! They illuminated the world!

"Yet they abandoned us. Didn't even fight to get us back from the Ottomans. When are you going to realize that the light you covet so badly blinded you to their callous selfishness!?"

You lie!

"We were destined to be butchered to secure peace! We were nothing to them! Like all the dim were to us!"

A sharp blow struck the back of Vlad's head. The voice faded as he immediately came back to the arena. He looked and saw Prometheus staring at him, slightly confused.

"Are you good now?" Geirölul said. Unbeknownst to him, she manipulated one of the strips of silver material and struck him in the back of the head. It went limp and melded back into the cloak.

"…Yes."

"Don't thank me. Whoever that little shit was got in the way…but he's right."

"What?"

"I'm not an expert or anything, but what that voice said is true. You're an Enlightened Human, but that doesn't mean what you're seeing is what you think it means."

The implications of that truth made Vlad's blood go cold.

"However, we can figure that out after we win. This jackass isn't leaving this place alive after what he's said and done."

"How can we be sure there's no merit to his words? You think he's lying?"

Another small blow struck his head. "That's not what I said! He's not lying at all! In fact, he's being pretty damn honest right now. It's just he sees things the way he wants to and loves making people see them that way too, the arrogant prick."

Her words comforted him, but the uncertainty remained. He needed to find the truth behind this. It was necessary. He looked up at the numbers on the ceiling;

Prometheus 57%

Vlad Dracul Tepes 43%

He's making them see and think what he wants. I've only ever done that when I've shown it. Maybe…it's time to show them all how I earned my name.

 

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

Prometheus flew towards Vlad's attack. The point of the blade aimed right at his left eye. Prometheus flung his right chain back. It found a target and wrapped around one of the columns behind him. He felt the chain go taut and pulled. His body stopped, suspended in mid-air between the wall and Vlad. He smiled, his gaze going wild. The chain links wrapped around his left arm began to glow, and steam began to rise from the burning metal. The glow travelled down the chain and flew from Prometheus towards Vlad. He could feel the heat well before it got near him and released the chain. The spot he just let go of ignited. Heat and concussive force expelled from the metal and slammed into Vlad. Prometheus pulled himself away just as the blast released and sailed back towards the column.

Vlad skidded to a halt and threw the blade. Prometheus flicked his free chain and knocked it away. He reached behind his back with both hands and pulled out several blades held between his fingers. He tossed them all.

"Vlad's not letting up! Even after Prometheus broke away from his attack, he refuses to give him any space to breathe!" Heimdall shouted.

Prometheus' eyes dilated. He took his left chain in his hand and twirled it. Faster, faster, faster… the chain spun until it turned bright orange. Each time it swung near the ground, it scraped out rock, and sparks flew.

"*Flegómeni Díni!" (*Burning Vortex) Flames burst from the chain. The swirling blaze intercepted each blade, knocking each one out of the air as they tried to fly by. Vlad continued to throw more at the vortex, but each one failed to pass through. "Want to see what else this trick can do, Human!?" Prometheus brought the chain to his side, continuing to spin it. "Enjoy it!" Prometheus threw the chain towards Vlad, the vortex flattening out into a single long white-hot stream of metal and heat. It whistled through the air as it soared. Vlad let his knees buckle and drop.

The chain flew overhead. The heat scorched the top and back of his head as he dropped into a crouch. He glared at the Titan and dashed. He pulled more blades out from behind his back and tossed them from under the chain. Prometheus leaned and lurched to avoid them; a few of them flew past him. Some found home. One stabbed into his left quadricep and another into his left side. He felt the pain erupt from his wounds. He quickly reached for them and pulled them out as Vlad rushed towards him. Prometheus pulled his left chain back, the metal having cooled. His right chain went slack around the column, and he pulled it back to him. Vlad reached behind his back and pulled out a straight-edged silver, guard-less sword as he closed in, the chain flying back overhead.

He kept low to the ground; straightening back up would put him right in the path of the heavy chain and potentially take his head off. Prometheus wrapped the chains around his arms. Vlad swung the sword from the right. The blow collided with Prometheus' chain-covered arms. The force of the strike tilted him to the right. How is this human so damn strong!?

Vlad swiped, and Prometheus ducked under the slash. Using that momentary blind spot, Vlad reached his left hand behind his back and pulled out another blade and slashed. Prometheus rolled back, barely avoiding the attack. He rolled onto his feet and lunged forward. Twisting his upper body to the right, he pulled his right arm back, and his body twisted back to the left. His fist struck just under Vlad's left arm as he tried to swing his sword back. The slack chain wrapped around his arm slid forward, pushing his fist deeper into Vlad's chest. It began to glow. Vlad could only stare down at the blow as his chest began to burn. 

*"Émvolo Pou Kaíei!" (*Burning Ram) An explosion erupted from his chain-covered fist, and Vlad flew back. He landed with a hard, metallic thud.

Prometheus fell to the ground.

"W-what happened!?" Heimdall shouted. "Prometheus smashed and blasted Vlad away, but both collapsed!?" He pulled out his tablet to go over the replay. The screen lit up and began the replay. Heimdall pinched it and expanded the screen.

He then saw it. The moment that made what looked like a one-sided clash into a near-death trade-off. At the moment Prometheus' punch made contact with Vlad, several blades jutted out from the cloak straight towards Prometheus. They stabbed him as Vlad flew away from the blow. "It was a dual exchange!" Heimdall displayed his tablet's screen on the floating monitors outside the dome. "Vlad tried to skewer Prometheus as he took the hit! What a madman!"

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Prometheus snarled. His right quadricep and his right shoulder both had puncture wounds. His right arm had two long cuts along the inside and outside of his upper arm. Another large cut now showed on his right cheek, and a large gash now appeared on his right ear. "Is that hard for you to just roll over and die?"

Vlad groaned as he lifted himself. The spot where Prometheus hit him smoked a little before it cooled down. He got back to his feet, rolling his left shoulder to ensure he had full movement.

"Look, I get what you're trying to do. Nothing is more admirable than true redemption. Admitting you're evil is the first step to that. Which you did! Good FOR you! But I…" Prometheus flared out his arms to his sides. "am seeking the redemption and salvation of the entire Human race. Not my own. If all you're here to do is save yourself, then you're no better than the Gods."

Vlad stared lazily at him. He did not know why, or if he did, it was irrelevant to him. He felt the compulsion and decided not to fight it.

He yawned. Slow, loud, and expressive. Just…a yawn. He did not bother to even cover his mouth. He smacked his lips, blinked slowly, and continued his lazy stare. "

What, think you're too good to say anything, Human?" Prometheus asked.

Vlad looked to his left, then to his right.

"Vlad, this guy's posturing is nauseating. Can we kill him yet?" Geirölul asked. "That last attack almost got him."

"We can, but doing it now is pointless. Such things must serve a purpose-" Vlad answered.

"Are you ignoring me, Human!?" Prometheus yelled.

"Death is not something to take lightly, Geirölul. Every life serves a purpose. Whether a good one…or a vile one. His…will solidify the foundation established by the Fighters before us."

"I'm not really getting what you're saying, but if that means we're tearing this guy apart," Geirölul grinned maniacally. "I'm in." 

Vlad smiled. "I knew you'd be."

Prometheus stared at his opponent. "Guess there's no reasoning with you." The chains on his arms began to glow. "You're playing with fire, Human. Prepare to burn."

Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

"Hilde, something's bothering me," Göll said.

"What's that?" Brunhilde asked.

"After the match started, Vlad's been quiet the entire time, except when talking to Geir. For all of Prometheus' talking, Vlad isn't fighting back against the insults. Everyone else threw it right back at their opponents, but he's just…"

"Bored? Like he's not even paying attention?"

"I mean…yeah, it seems like it. He's taking this seriously, right?"

"Don't worry, Göll. He is. He's taking Prometheus seriously as a Fighter, but not as a philosophical opponent."

"Why?"

"Vlad's a weird guy." Brunhilde pulled out her tablet, tapped on the screen a few times, and passed it to Göll. "This is an interview that the Valhalla Media Department got in their efforts to learn about the Fighters."

"…This place has a Media Department?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

Göll sighed at the notion. She stared at the screen and pushed the play button.

Valhalla Arena

Media Center

"So why am I here exactly?" Asked the old man sitting in the middle of the empty stone room, his soft brown eyes staring ahead. In front of him was a single camera, a microphone, and a few angels in black suits handling the equipment. He wore a red double-breasted shirt, white pants, and black boots; his dark hair and thick beard were combed neatly. On his left hip was a curved sword, the guard and handle a dull bronze.

Vlad Dracul II

(Wallachia)

"We wanted to ask you about your son, who's currently scheduled to fight in Ragnarök. We tried interviewing others about him, mainly those who knew when he was ruling over Wallachia. They all…politely declined." The angel behind the camera said.

"You mean Vlad III?" He asked while stroking his beard. He stared up and to the right. "What do you want to know about him?"

"Whatever you can share."

Vlad looked down; his expression hardened. It was not often he talked about any of his sons, let alone the black sheep that was Vlad III, better known as the Impaler.

"I need to say this before I go any further; while I may denounce him…he is still my son. I still love all my sons. He…just did not seem to be on a level on a…level of awareness that most people live on."

"What do you mean?" The angel asked.

"Vlad…ever since he was young, he did not see people as people. When I saw him looking at someone or even talking to them, it was like he wasn't there. He just looked…bored. He always looked bored. Even when he and Radu were sent to the Ottomans…"

"As hostages."

Vlad II sighed. "…yes. As hostages. I had to ensure stability at my realm's borders. I had constant disputes between nobles in Wallachia to deal with, and if the Ottomans invaded, Wallachia would be crushed. The Ottomans would then campaign through the rest of the lands…the very idea of that robbed me of sleep and peace. What else could I do?" Vlad II rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "Radu was horrified. He thought I hated him. Vlad, on the other hand…

Wallachia

1442

Far from his castle home, Vlad II stood with his two young sons in front of a small cadre of men on horseback in robes and turbans. Among them, an older, burly man dropped from his horse and walked over to the trio.

"These are them?" He asked.

"They are. With this, my people will be safe?" Vlad II asked.

"If you do not try something foolish, yes." The man looked down at the young pair. One, a young boy barely three years old, slid behind the other, his older brother. The Ottoman leader looked up at the young Vlad and felt a chill envelop him.

Vlad stared at him. Lifeless. Nay, void of any emotion whatsoever.

This child...what is he?! He thought. I've seen this look, but only in madmen and killers. At such a young age...this isn't possible!

"Are we to ride on the horses?" Vlad asked, nonplussed.

"...Yes." The Ottoman looked over to two of his soldiers. "You two will ride with them."

"No."

The Ottoman felt the chill grow.

"...No?"

"I don't like those two. They're...dark." Vlad pointed at two others. "Those two are bright. We will ride with them. Any issues, Sir?"

The Ottoman and his retinue exchanged glances.

Why those two? Sure, the others are not the most reliable, but the two he picked are new! How did he know?! Is he trying to escape?

Vlad turned to his father, while Radu continued clinging to his leg. "This man and those two are as bright as you, Father. We will be fine. We will see you, I think, whenever it is time."

Vlad II looked into his son's eyes as panic crawled over his skin. "Of...of course." Please go away...

The boys were picked up by the two Vlad asked for, and the group departed. Vlad II heard some time later that they made it safely to their new home, but the two Vlad rejected were killed in their sleep. No one knew how, and no one could prove what happened.

But He knew.

Valhalla Arena

Media Center

"I thought he would hate me for it, too. I almost would have preferred it." He stared up at the ceiling. "Were we no different to him than anyone else? Did we matter so little to him that being separated from us didn't mean a thing to him?"

Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

"His father?" Göll said incredulously.

"Yeah. His mother and brothers were also interviewed. Most of them said the same thing; he always looked bored, he was smart, and most important of all?" Brunhilde looked menacingly at her sister. "Wicked. Vlad, for some odd reason, holds very few people in high regard. Everyone else is just an unimportant nameless face that he can kill or trample on without hesitation. No pleasure, no hatred, no satisfaction, no catharsis. His entire being is pure brutality with zero emotion behind it. That's why he's the best Fighter for Villains. He's the perfect template for a remorseless killing machine, and the best karmic slap in the face for that asshole, Prometheus."

"You called him a dirtbag and now an asshole. Why do you hate him so much?"

"Assholes like him are a dime a dozen. They give out things claiming altruism. Truth is, he's an opportunist who jumps ship at the first sign of trouble." Brunhilde scowled. "He ditched the Titans when Zeus beat Kronos in the Titanomachy Tournament, and he tried it again with Humanity. Zeus wasn't having any of it and beat Prometheus within an inch of his life and chained him to the rock. Too good for him if you ask me."

Göll stared at her sister. The level of resentment in her voice was foreign to her and seemed far more personal than she wanted to admit.

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

Prometheus dashed towards Vlad, his chains continuing to glow. Vlad, swords in hand, ran to meet him. The two barreled towards each other, ready to claim the next blow and pull momentum their way. I can't get close to him. Those weird blades popped out from under his cloak, and he's fighting dirty. Prometheus thought. Range isn't good either. He's far more agile than he looks in that armor and heavy cloak. Plus, his skill with throwing knives is annoying. What can I do… The two closed in. Prometheus' long reach meant he would reach his range first. However, he did not need to wait for him to get close. He quickly shifted his weight and turned his upper body to the right. He snapped back, firing a powerful, burning cross.

"Piánontas Flóga (Catching Fire)!" The blow flew forward, and upon reaching its full extension. The glowing chain rolled up onto his closed fist and flung off in front of him. The ball of hot metal flew right towards Vlad. Vlad let his knees go slack, and he fell to the ground in a slide.

The attack flew over him, and as he slid towards Prometheus, he aimed a cross-slash towards Prometheus'leg with both swords. He saw the attack and jumped back, barely avoiding it. He jerked his right chain, still glowing, back and down towards his opponent.

 Vlad rolled away, the chain barely missing him. Mid-roll, Vlad returned his swords to the interior of his cloak and pulled out four throwing blades. He flicked his wrist, sending them flying towards the Titan. Prometheus blocked and swatted them away with his chain-wrapped left hand. Vlad got back to his feet, pulling his swords back out from within his cloak.

Prometheus squinted at him. I get it now.

"Turning a close-range attack into a long-range strike! Prometheus is keeping Vlad on his toes!" Heimdall yelled. "Both Fighters are continuing to change and gauge their opponents' abilities at all ranges! Who will fall first? The Chains…or the Blades!?

"Well, Human. Got to give it to you. Must be nice carrying an entire arsenal with you wherever you go in that cloak of yours. Almost makes a guy jealous."

Vlad said nothing.

"Vlad, he's figured it out," Geirölul said.

"Not entirely, but he's close. Doesn't matter," Vlad said.

Geirölul smiled. "…Because it doesn't mean he knows what we can do."

"Couldn't put it better. Let's leave him in the dark…for now."

"If he lives that long!" She roared.

Vlad smiled again. Vlad reached with his right hand and tapped the points where his cloak connected to his armor with his index and middle fingers. The cloak fell off in a heavy, metallic thump. Prometheus stepped his right foot back, showing only his left side to Vlad as he swung his right chain.

"What are you doing?" Prometheus asked, mildly irritated.

"Doing what I've been doing since the start; pitying you."

"So the first words you aim my way are nothing but insults. Typical."

"Can't help pitying an empty soul like you. However, I am being asked to kill you. Killing something I pity…is conflicting."

"Keep your pity…" The right chain flew towards Vlad. "To yourself!"

High above them, Heimdall’s tablet vibrated. He pulled it out of his pocket and groaned.

Heimdall, what're the results right now? The message read on his tablet. Set was getting antsy and needed to know how it was going.

"Oh, wait. I forgot to check." Heimdall pulled up the application needed for the match, 'Match Morale,' to see who had more negative sentiment towards them.

Prometheus 50%

Vlad Dracul Tepes 50%

They're still tied. Nothing's moved. Heimdall typed and sent back the results. "This guy's been nothing but a pain since this round started…why is he so damn persistent about this?" Heimdall asked himself quietly.

Back below, the chain flew towards a stalwart Vlad, gaining ground at incredible speed. Vlad sighed and swatted the chain to his left with his sword hard. The force of the blow sent the chain flying away, the force pulling Prometheus' arm with it. His body leaned to the right, lifting his left leg off the ground. What the hell is going on!? Prometheus thought. How does a Human have this much raw power? He's almost as strong as I am! 

Vlad dashed towards Prometheus. As he got close, he thrust his left sword towards the off-kilter Prometheus' chest. He managed to get his left arm in front of the blow, but it never came. Vlad paused his strike and stepped forward. He swung, unleashing a massive slash towards Prometheus' unprotected left ribs. Prometheus pulled his left arm back just in time to absorb the blow. The blow did not cease; the force of the strike slammed Prometheus into the ground, caving the floor in below him. Cracks spread through the floor from the point of impact, and kicked-up dust flew away. Prometheus' lungs emptied of air from the attack.

Vlad saw his chance. He quickly stepped over his opponent and firmly stepped down on Prometheus' right chain. Prometheus caught a quick glimpse of his opponent; both arms raised, both swords in a reverse grip. Vlad stabbed down with his right hand first. Prometheus tried to pull his right chain out from under his opponent's foot. It did not budge. 

This shouldn't be happening! Prometheus screamed internally. He parried the first stab with his left arm. Vlad stabbed again. Prometheus parried it away to his left, the blade piercing the ground. Vlad did not let up. He continued to stab away at his impaired opponent. Prometheus continued to parry each blow away, his left chain beginning to glow. Despite his massive frame, it became apparent that his speed and skill could not be ignored. Vlad could feel it each time he swatted away the chains, their monstrous weight. The fact that he could not only use them as a weapon but also as makeshift armor required Vlad to start taking more pragmatic actions alongside the game's rules, including ensnarement.

Prometheus took his chance; he parried a right stab to his left. Just as Vlad started to pull back his attack, Vlad twisted to his right and threw a left hook. Vlad could hear the chain sizzle as it came near him. Vlad twisted to the right to get his body out of the way of the blow.

Just as Prometheus hoped for. The chain's dingy gray flooded back. The heat vanished. Vlad was grazed by cold, heavy metal. The chain under his foot erupted with light and heat. He could not remove his foot in time. An explosion erupted right from under his foot, sending him up and back into the air. The force of the blast pushed Prometheus into a roll, enabling him to take the momentum and get back to his feet and whip his right arm out. He swung it down and up, sending the chain careening towards an airborne Vlad. Vlad knocked the chain down before it could connect. Suddenly, a heavy blow struck Vlad square and sent him to the ground. The ground caved in where he landed, and he lay there lifeless.

"What a blow! Prometheus, despite falling on the back foot, regained his momentum and dealt a powerful blow to Vlad!"

Prometheus took a quick second to survey the arena. Something felt off. Despite putting more power into that last blow…it felt weaker than the others. He checked the floor, the columns, the throne, and the magma river. He checked back in on Vlad in between each spot to ensure he had not yet moved. It was when he looked up at the ceiling that he realized what was going on. Above them, glowing dimly against the dark stone, were letters and numbers;

Prometheus 40%

Vlad Dracul Tepes 60%

"You've got to be kidding me…that's what's going on?" Prometheus asked himself.

It did not occur to Set or Prometheus at the time that Storytelling was chosen. While Set decided it was necessary to have it happen earlier, one of the few reasons he moved it earlier was because of this very situation.

Humanity already began to show its mettle by nearly killing all of its opponents, with two succeeding. The psychological damage was already done not only amongst the Fighters, but the audience as well. The subconscious fear of Humanity surpassing the Gods and continuing to kill Heaven's chosen experts began to grow with each round. Baldr and Futsunushi's deaths further proved this. Myrddin entered into the realm of the Gods and used their own power against them, nearly incinerating Nuada.

What else could they do?

How strong was Vlad in comparison?

Was he really as dangerous as the others?

These questions ate and gnawed at the Gods sitting in the audience, and that meant one thing.

Brunhilde's plan was yielding results.

"Vlad!" Geirölul said. "Are you okay!?"

Vlad's eyes opened. He lifted his head and looked over to Prometheus, their eyes meeting. Vlad quickly looked up to the ceiling and back down. He got back up to his feet and stabbed his swords in the ground. He proceeded to dust off his armor and rolled his neck, making a few popping noises. He rolled his shoulders next and did something so heinous it made even Zeus laugh.

He yawned again. He yawned just as loudly and blatantly as before.

Valhalla Arena

Battleground

"Göndul, if there ever was a maiden considered fair, she is paltry in comparison to you." Saint Germain whispered into his watch. Nuada looked at him, puzzled.

"You're too kind, but right now is not the time for flattery."

"Life's too short to not spare kind words." Göndul chuckled a little. Saint Germain looked down at the watch's face. The hands on the watch showed 12:04. The two activations of his Völund, Quick Costume Change, used little if any magical energy. He still had plenty to work with. The last two scenes worked to his favor, but he knew eventually Nuada would catch on.

The floor beneath them began to sway and tilt. Both looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. An earthquake? Something tunneling under them?

Their questions were answered by the sounds of wood creaking, seagulls crying overhead, and the sound of waves crashing. A familiar salty smell wafted through the air and mingled with the smell of wet wood and rope. The floor beneath them turned the deep-brown color and look of strong Georgia Oak. A mast appeared out of the corner of their eyes as a vast, blue ocean spread out into the horizon. The sun shone down from above with the occasional small cloud offering a small respite. The unfurled sails were taut from the wind and carried the massive wooden ship that was their arena along the ocean. Behind Nuada appeared the Ship's bow, Saint Germain the aft. The ship's wheel sat a level above the two, reachable by two ladder wells on each side. Dozens of the ship's crew ran around them, working the ropes, carrying boxes, and prepping cannons on the ship's port and starboard.

Saint Germain saw it first. Cutting through the water and heading their way was another massive ship, its sails a deep black. "Guess it's time to get into character." Saint Germain said. He slowly walked over to the mast and out of Nuada's sight. As he came around, his clothing shifted once more. His ensemble was replaced by brown pants, a gray sleeveless shirt, black boots and belt, and a brown tricorn over his gray hair. On his left hip was a cutlass' scabbard, his right hand bearing the blade. "Ready."

Nuada sheathed his sword. Quickly, he undid the fasteners under his armpits and shook off his armor. He then kicked off his boots, going barefoot, and removed his chainmail while keeping his blue pants, gauntlets, shirt, belt, and sheathed sword on. "Same here."

Both old men smiled defiantly at each other, readying themselves.

"ACTION!"

The sound of distant cannon fire roared into the air. Saint Germain blitzed at Nuada, starting his assault with a thrust. Nuada stepped to his right while keeping his left arm close to his body. Saint Germain twisted his wrist and brought the cutlass' edge parallel with the deck and continued his attack with a left slash to Nuada's head. Nuada leaned to his right and rolled his left shoulder up, parrying the slash off his shoulder and over his head. Nuada took the small opening and thrusted with Fragarach.

Saint Germain saw the attack and stepped back, the tip of the blade barely missing his throat. Nuada stepped forward and thrust again, but Saint Germain parried it to his right. Saint made a quick right slash at Nuada's face once more. Nuada hopped back and slapped Saint Germain's cutlass to his right with Fragarach and followed up with a left slash of his own.

What came next was unexpected, at least to Nuada. Saint Germain got his sword back in front of him and raised the pommel, catching Fragarach's weak on the strong of his own sword. Saint Germain stepped in, pressing his weight against Nuada. Nuada managed to slide Fragarach up and match strong against strong, the two of them now blade-locked as the ship bowed back and forth. The sound of cannon fire erupted around them, and a source was getting closer. Far faster than any ship could normally. Neither gave any ground as the other ship got closer and the Fighters' spot came in range.

"You're better than I thought, Thespian," Nuada said snidely.

"One picks up a trick or two when in the business! I've lost count of how many times I fought my way out of a swordfight! Sometimes like this!" Saint Germain reached his left hand behind his back, out of Nuada's line of sight. From his belt, he pulled a flint-lock pistol, primed and ready for firing. With a flick of his elbow, Saint Germain brought the pistol right under his other arm, completely hidden by the blades. He pulled the trigger, and the shot fired.

Right into Nuada's left hand. "Good try." Nuada grabbed Saint Germain's collar and reared back. His head flew forward, and his forehead slammed into Saint Germain's face. Nuada then kicked his feet out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud thump. "Now you're done." Nuada flipped his sword into a reverse grip and stabbed down.

As he started the stab, something caught his eye. Saint Germain was smiling. He could not help but be concerned by it. He just stopped a sneak attack and took his footing. Why was Saint Germain not worried? A salvo of Cannon fire came from his left. Without looking that way, he finally realized why.

Nuada sighed. "Well...well played." The two of them were in the crosshairs of one of the cannons, and they just fired. Nuada's arm snapped straight to the left, and a tremendous force slammed into his palm. Nuada pressed against it to keep from falling over as his feet skidded on the wood as the cannonball pushed him along. He slammed into the side of the ship, his upper body starting to lean over the side.

Exerting as much strength in his back as he could and clamping his legs firmly against the ship's railing, Nuada pushed back against the force and righted himself up. He took a glance around the deck. Saint Germain had run up towards the bow of the ship, sword in hand. "Let's see if you can see out the back of your head." Nuada reeled his left hand back. Stepping with his right foot, Nuada twisted to the right and threw the cannonball. The force of the throw displaced the air in front of him with a loud boom. The ball flew faster than any cannon could fire it and headed towards the back of Saint Germain's head.

What happened next, Nuada could not explain. Nothing up to that point could explain it, save for the fact that maybe Saint Germain was far more a man of his word than Nuada wanted to admit. Before the ball could reach him, Saint Germain reached back behind his head, aiming as if to catch the cannonball. It was not the fact that he reached back that alarmed Nuada.

It was the fact that the arm Saint Germain reached with…was mechanical and silver. Saint Germain caught the cannonball in his hand and used the momentum to go into a right spin. Getting his footing just right, he tossed the ball with the same force as Nuada at the other ship, striking the ship's hull just below the water. He then looked up at Nuada with those same piercing blue eyes, but now with Nuada's face and hair. "Got to admit," The other Nuada said in a familiar voice. "Not how I wanted to figure out that damn trick of yours." The other ship began sinking, the crew screaming and running for the life-rafts.

Nuada sprinted towards him as the crew around him cheered at their victory. They began crowding around him and Saint Germain, and it was not long before Nuada lost sight of him again. Not this time. Nuada thought. His silver irises began to glow, and a picture appeared in his mind. Sight From Heaven! He could see the top of his head, the crew moving around him. He went completely still, surveying the erratic movements of the Sailors. No patterns, no focused movements. Where are you!? I'm running out of time! Nuada then saw it. One Sailor was moving away from the crowd. And they wore a brown bandana. Nuada broke through the crowd, keeping one eye on him from above and one in front, and drew his sword. He managed to reach the Sailor, grabbed him by his mechanical hand, and turned him around. He then stabbed his sword into the Sailor's stomach, pulled it out, and held him up. "I caught you!"

"Caught whom?" Said a familiar voice from behind. All the noise from before vanished. Nuada turned around and saw every member of the crew eyeing him in bewilderment. Among them, near the back, was Saint Germain smiling. "All you caught was an innocent cabin boy." All the Sailors grabbed swords and whatever they could get their hands on.

Nuada looked at the young man being held in his grip, the light fading from his green eyes as blood poured from his stab wound. Disbelief arose from the back of his mind.

The young boy, barely fifteen, had red hair beneath his dirty bandanna. "Now you caught the attention of an angry crew. Good luck." Lost in the moment, Nuada could only gently lower the boy down and lay him on his back. Nuada then stepped away, letting a few of the crew run up and grab the boy. He inhaled deeply and released it. The ship rumbled under his feet, his fury bearing its might on the deck.

3….2….

"Come at me. You'll die quicker than him." Nuada said calmly, his eyes wide-open in pure fury. The whole crew charged him, enraged. Nuada crouched down, guarded the left side of his face and chest with his left arm, Fragarach's point aimed where he last saw Saint Germain. This stance, born from a lifetime of constant battle, became one of Nuada's signature techniques. Akin to the phalanx of the Spartans, Nuada's stance, while seemingly defensive in nature, was, in actuality, a technique of raw, unstoppable offense. This was one of the techniques, combined with the Tuatha de Dannan's greatest physical strength, that earned Nuada his title as a War God. The technique's name?

Tintreach Airgid (Silver Lightning).

1…

With as much strength as he could muster, Nuada kicked off the deck and barreled forward. The force of his dash rivaled the cannon fire. A resounding boom erupted behind him. The ship's deck split under his dash, the force shooting through every deck and caving through the hull and keel. Every poor soul in his way was smashed and pulverized as if by a speeding car. Blood splattered all over him, but he continued his charge. He cleared the crowd and leaped forward, readying his sword to stab through Saint Germain's heart. Saint Germain froze, incredulous at what he saw. Nuada thrust Fragarach and connected with an invisible barrier just centimeters in front of Saint Germain's chest. The collision caused the barrier to vibrate furiously, but it held.

"CUT!"

Nuada thrust again, hitting the barrier. Saint Germain did not move. Again, he thrusted. Nuada's face began contorting with rage, spittle coming from his mouth. After three more powerful thrusts, Nuada finally stopped. The world around them began to fade back into the white dome. He looked down at Fragarach. It was clean, with no sign of blood or chipping. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, opened them, and walked away from Saint Germain towards his discarded armor. He grabbed each piece as he went, putting on his boots, chainmail, and then fastening his breastplate. He then sheathed his sword and sat on the ground, glaring at Saint Germain.

"I think I went too far that time," Saint Germain said as his suit reappeared.

"You may have," Göndul responded. "Nuada's protective of children and hates seeing them suffer."

"Paternal instinct and whatnot. Now the hard part's about to start."

"He's not holding back anymore?"

"Even worse. He probably hates me now. I've dealt with people like him before. Hurting him is one thing. Hurting something he cares about? Might as well be writing my obituary."

Nuada continued to stare at him, waiting, as his rage permeated the air.

"Have you figured out how much time passes between the set pieces?" Göndul asked.

"Hate saying it, but it does not look like it's a set time. The bigger the scene, the longer it takes to break down and come up with another. I could use a breather, to be honest." He looked down at his watch. Two transformations, with one far more elaborate than just a wardrobe change. The watch now reads 12:18. "Damnit, nearly a third gone?"

"A partial transformation into Nuada ate far more magic than planned. Adding on the prosthetic and scanning Nuada's other abilities, it was a risk worth taking."

"Agreed. Airgetlam: The Silver Shield; a defense technique that reacts and blocks all projectiles autonomously, and Sight from Heaven; a vision ability that lets him see in his mind a picture of the area around him from above. Calls me a charlatan, but he's the one using cheats."

"Was that all?"

"…No. There's still more in that head of his I couldn't grab, even when I turned into him. Gods are harder to read, and I only got those because they're the only moves he's been using."

"Then we still need to research him. Get into the mind of the character." Göndul said, slightly enjoying herself.

"Well said. Let's keep at it then."

Helheim

Tartarus

"Good grief, this place smells!" Geirölul said. She and Brunhilde were making their way through a tall, stone hallway. On both sides, Geirölul could see each cell held a single occupant, but some were bound in chains secured to the walls, others were able to walk free in their cells, and others were completely immobilized, save for their heads.

The one thing they all had in common, however, was that none of them tried to talk to them. It was an unspoken rule within Tartarus that unapproved communication with anyone was a punishable offense tailored to the criminal. Many of the prisoners saw their contemporaries suffer horrific punishments ranging from burning, gouging, dismemberment, and freezing. Some were even eaten by the monstrous beasts roaming the grounds of the fortress, regurgitated, then healed. These events lead to an unspoken truth in Tartarus. Silence is golden.

Near the end of the hall, the two finally stopped. In the cell in front of them was a human man, his body bound to the wall by metal chains connected to shackles on his wrists, ankles, and neck. His old clothes tattered and discolored, his hair unkempt and matted, his fingernails long and twisted. However, his deep brown eyes were wild and alive. As the two looked in to see him, his eyes met theirs. Pure dread and horror washed over the two. They would not comprehend why, but the image of a massive skull trying to bite down on them invaded their minds. Neither knew the other saw the same image at that time, but they both would never speak of it again.

Her whole body shaking, Brunhilde pulled out her tablet and tapped on the screen. She brought up a text document and showed it to the man in the cell. "You have permission to speak, as granted by Yama the Jailkeeper of Tartarus and Hades the Ruler of Helheim," Brunhilde said, fighting back the instinctive fear clawing at her mind.

"…Wonderful…" The man said, his voice a deep basso profundo. "Been too long since I had something…like a simple conversation. Are you the one who requested my services?"

"I am. Humanity is currently at war with the Gods for its right to live for another millennium. Will you help us?"

The man in the cell leaned to the right slowly, his back and neck popping. He then leaned to the left and popped it some more. He then leaned back against the wall and stared lazily at the two. "For an ungrateful people? I will pass. Find someone else."

"I can't. No one else fits the bill quite like you."

"...How am I so 'special?'"

"No other human has inspired such pure and raw fear as you. Even Gods fear you. Why else would they put you here?"

"Not sure, but irrelevant. Find someone else who wants to die for your crusade."

"I have plenty of those. No…" Manic energy began to exude from her. "I need someone who hates Humanity like you to fight in Round Six and reignite that same horror and dread you inspired so long ago."

The man stood up from his bench. He rolled his shoulders slowly as he walked to the cell door. He stood 30 centimeters over Brunhilde. "Do not flatter me. Many like you are full of flowery words, but they're liars. Liars, thieves, and betrayers." The dread returned and crashed into Brunhilde. "Leave here before I get out and show you what I do to people like you."

Geirölul's eyes darted from her sister to the man and back. Pure unbridled fury erupted in her soul, and a few veins began to show on her brow. "Oh, screw this." Geirölul got between her sister and the prisoner, reached through the bars, lifted the man, and slammed him into the cell door. She extended her arms and slammed him again. "Listen here. My sister and I did not come down to this hellhole to be intimidated by a man in chains. Two warriors on our side are already dead, and another is putting his life on the line right now. Now I don't give a damn about your issues with Humanity, but so help me, you better hope I cannot get in this cell." She stared straight into his eyes, refusing to look away.

Brunhilde watched her sister stand up to the monster in human skin in pure awe. Geirölul lowered him down and stepped away. The man stepped away slowly from the cell door.

"You're not scared of me?"

"Frightened as hell, but that doesn't mean you get to mess with my sister."

The man continued to stare at Geirölul, his wild eyes scanning her. After a few seconds, his gaze and bearing softened. "...It seems I misjudged the present company. Who are you?" The man asked slowly.

"I am Geirölul of the Valkyries."

The man bowed deeply and lowered his head. "Forgive my impetuousness, Geirölul. My time here has done a great deal of harm to my social graces. Meeting genuine souls...is such a rare thing here."

"Don't flatter me, and stop wasting my time. Are you going to help us?"

The man stood back up, smiling softly. "I will. Whatever you need of me."

Geirölul's wicked smile returned. "Perfect. Now we need to get you out of there and begin working on our Völund."

"Working on our…what?"

"It's the power we Valkyries use to give the Einherjar, Humanity's Fighters, weapons and abilities to fight back and kill the Gods."

"Killing Gods? And you're fighting by my side? Seems too good to be true, but why not? Let's see what we can do."

Vlad Dracul Tepes

(Romania)

Morning from wherever, gang!

As a few of you are aware, I have made liberal use of Hero Forge and Photoshop to build 'Covers' for myself and others here. With this new competition, as well as the many ongoing stories going on here, I am here to remind everyone that if you want cover arts like what I do for Redirected and such, feel free to reach out! All services are free and done in support of the community.

The Heavens

Valhalla Arena

Game Master's Box Seats

Set stared at the screen of his tablet, overlooking the cacophony of the audience trying to clamor out of the decimated arena. He did not see angels flying to Ghulam and Radgridr’s position, lifting the former on a stretcher, and flying out of the decimated arena. He would occasionally flick his finger down, refreshing the page in the hopes of receiving the notification. Shiva shuffled in his seat next to him, still feeling the beat from the earlier exchanges.

“You know…staring at screens like that is not good for you,” Eris whispered in Set’s ear, letting her short brunette drape over her golden eyes. “Life passes by that way, especially when there’s prettier—.”

Set raised his left hand, placing it between himself and Eris and gently pushing her away.

“There is nothing more important than this,” He responded. “Hanuman fought the fight of his life. The least we can do is respect it.” He breathed slowly, letting his chest rise and fall. “Catering to your obsessive need for attention would just sully his name.”

Eris shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Hard to be this pretty and used to being ignored. Who’s left on our side?”

“You do not know?”

Eris pulled out her tablet and lifted it over her head. She puckered her lips and snapped a few pictures, each one clawing at Set’s patience. “I honestly thought this would be over by. Buuuuut… I doubt any of the others hold a candle to me. I mean, it’s me!”

Set leered at her for a moment, then turned back to the tablet, tapping on the screen. “Aside from you…We have…” The display came to life, and Set turned it to Eris. Eris looked at it, her eyes fluttering.

 Remaining Fighters For The Gods

Eris

Nezha Mk. II

Ghatotkacha

Oya

 

Contests Remaining

Assault

Snowdrift

Manhunt

Beat The Drum

 She gasped. “I’m at the top? Yay me!”

“That does not mean anything, and Brünhilde has the turn to pick.”

“Booooo….” She squinted at the screen. “Some of these contests…are weird. Ballroom? Beat The Drum?” She started humming and leaned back in her seat. “Eh. Your roster choices are…okay. Not ones I’d pick, but hey! You do you!”

“Believe it or not, I chose you first.”

“Oh! Really?! I mean, of course you di-“

“So the dignity of the Roster was already haphazard at best. Oya, Athena, and Shenlong joining managed to repair it, along with the others.”

Shiva snorted, trying to stifle his laughter.

Eris leered at him. “Eat dirt.”

“Hm…” The tablet vibrated in his hand, and it finally arrived.

The message from Brünhilde.

Set opened it, and life returned to his eyes. “You…cheeky brat.”

“Me?”

“A different one, and one I tolerate more.” He thought. Are you sending her next? You must want to win that badly.

Eris heard the slight joyful tinge in his voice. “What is it, ‘coach?’”

Set turned the tablet to her, showcasing the chosen fighter and contest.

 Contest for Round Nine

Manhunt

Fighter for Humanity

Pandora

 Eris blinked a few times. She then tilted her head, shifting her gaze from the tablet to Set’s face. “You can’t…be serious.” Her eyes dilated as a manic smile spread across her face. She fell back in her chair, staring out into the fresh destruction.

She burst out laughing.

“This is amazing! That dumb bimbo picked Pandora?!” She yelled as she kicked her feet in the air. “I thought these guys were supposed to be strong!” She glanced at Set. “But…seeing as how you had someone like that monkey represent us, I can see why the score is tied.”

Bimbo?! He thought.

Shiva froze. Slowly, he turned to Eris.

“Monkey?” He said, smiling and without a hint of anger in his voice. “Man, if that’s all he seemed to you, then you’re all looks and no brains!” Eris pouted at him, but he turned his attention to the arena. “Aaaaah…that fight made a guy wanna dance!”

Set, on the other hand, felt his rage growing.

Brother, calm down. The wispy voice said.

Set’s left eye twitched as he slowly pulled the tablet back and tapped on the screen a few times. His eyes widened slightly under the mask as soon as he found what he needed.

“Hmmm, you might be right. I knew she would come at us with a strong lineup.” He turned the screen back to Eris. “Oda Nobunaga, Lyudmila Pavlichenko, Dandares Dos Palmares…maybe I did make another poor choice. The first one was particularly impressive.”

She nonchalantly looked at the screen and fell off cloud nine. Her eyes locked on the images of Prometheus’ dismembered body sitting between his fingers. Oda Nobunaga stood over his remains as they began to glow green and shatter. “Round Six was a personal favorite of mine despite our loss; sending Prometheus out to represent us for Villains seems like a poor choice in hindsight. After all, Brünhilde had someone far stronger than your…plaything. Maybe I should have recruited Vidarr or Xolotl. They are definitely stronger than Prometheus was.”

Eris stood up, her smile vanishing immediately. “Prometheus went out… and he’s dead?”

Set pulled the tablet back. “He is. Cut down by that monster from Serbia. Originally, I had Zahhak picked to go. He was perfect for it too, but who would have thought he would get killed before he even walked out into the arena?” He glanced her way. “So we adapted. Your friend Athena is alive, by the way. Won Round Seven in a beautiful display of swordplay against a woman by the name of…Fu Hao, I believe.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Near-transparent red energy began to flow out of her. You rat bastard. She thought. You always hated us, and now you’re resorting to killing us!? What did we ever do to you!?

“You did not know she fought?” Set could hear the crowd below them as they left the arena. “Shame. She did so well. Thought you would be proud of her.”

“That Smartass can drop dead for all I care.” Her irises shrunk as darkness began to obscure her face. “Did you plan this?” 

“How could I have planned Prometheus’ death? He was not even on the Roster at the start.” His tone soft and mocking. “Of course…you would know that if you bothered to see who was.”

“Both you and Hilly-billy hated him. Wouldn’t surprise me if you two holier-than-thou losers planned Ragnarök from the beginning to get at him and me.”

Set chuckled. “Must be nice to see yourself as so important that the world has to revolve around you.” He turned his gaze forward. “It makes it easy to ignore what is really happening out there. The lives lost, family…and friends. Their ends are coming sooner than we hoped in ways we did not want for them…”

“Still on about your monkey-friend? He’s dead, dumbass. Get over it.”

Shiva turned back to her and started to rise, but Set placed his hand on his shoulder and stood. He adjusted his coat and rolled his shoulders. “Did you know most of the Gods have lost their sense of decorum and tact? I sometimes think it is because of peace and contentment. The routine of bureaucracy makes such things droll and unpleasant to the ears. I remember days when I could carry on an intelligent conversation with those who understood that decorum came from effort and accomplishments. That their words carried weight and experience.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Nowadays, I hear pompous, entitled brats like you, without a shred of decency, baying like your ramblings are something worth suffering through. The kind that speak with screech with words like ‘Bimbo,’ ‘monkey-friend,’ ‘dumbass,’ and immature little nicknames like ‘Setty’ getting peppered in, as well as...speaking ill of the dead. I remember the old days rather fondly…and Hanuman carried himself like someone whose words held weight. Unlike you.”

He sighed. He tapped the screen of his tablet a few times. A small chime sound rang out.

“I hoped that the prestige granted by your strength would be refined by humility from your time in the Circles, but I am mistaken.” He turned the tablet to his ill-tempered guest.

 Contest for Round Nine

Manhunt

Fighter for The Gods

Eris

 “Yet I do so hope you will do your best when you represent us shortly.”

An aura exploded out from Eris. “You’re sending me!? Now!?” She yelled. “I’m easily the last person who should go! The Grand Finale!”

“Couldn’t even if I could make it happen. The last Round is a mystery, and neither side can put someone already on the roster there.”

“Then send me in Round Twelve!”

“No.” He and Shiva turned to her. “Are you scared to fight Pandora?”

“Fucking, please! She’s nothing more than coattail-riding shit.”

“Good, because you’re going.”

Shiva bit his lips. Boy, he’s good at this! He thought. When did Set get used to handling brats?

“You can’t make me.”

“Yes, I can. It is within my authority to send you when I feel it necessary. There is no one amongst the Roster better suited for Manhunt than you. I would think you would want to be the center of attention, the Goddess who starts our comeback.” He walked through her aura unimpeded, stopping a dozen centimeters in front of her and leering down at her.

“Do you know who you’re talking to, you old fuck? I am the Goddess of Strife and Discord. Countless souls in Heaven fear me as the Outer God, the Uncaring! Who, if they knew I was here right now, would panic!”

Set sighed. “Allow me to explain something to you. However, I shall refrain from ‘mewing’ the way you do. I hope you can still comprehend. Shiva, forgive my conduct.”

“Go for it. Won’t bother me.”

Set released his aura, its pitch-black essence flooding out and devouring hers. Shiva shuffled back a little as Set tapped a button on his helmet’s chin. “Pay attention,” Set spoke, his voice and tone changing into his true deep baritone. “Until you are no longer bound to the Circles and Yama’s authority, I. Own. You.”

Eris felt dread creep from her ears down to her toes from his words.

“You little narcissistic cretin. You mock the daughter of someone I respect, and you will never hold a candle to her. You insult the sacrifices of the Gods who died, and treat a history-changing event like it is another stupid game for you to make a photoshoot. You will fight.”

His aura slammed down on her, her knees buckling under its weight.

“You will represent us next round.”

It slammed her again, forcing her to the floor. She barely kept herself up on her knees and hands. Her eyes widened.

Set crouched down to her level, leaning in to her ear. “And if you display any further act of defiance towards me or I hear one more word out of obstinate gob, I will butcher you and give your remains to Hephaestus. He could use a new housekeeping gynoid to clean his facilities.”

Eris could not see his face, but her instincts knew he was glaring under his mask.

“Do you understand?” He stood back up, but his aura continued its assault. He walked away from her and sat back down.

“Ugh…” She grunted out.

“I am sorry. I do not speak ‘cretin.’ Use words.”

“I get it…” She croaked out. The pressure vanished immediately.

“Good. Now get out.” Eris lay there, fuming. Slowly, she balled her hands into fists, her golden nails clawing into the stone floor. She slowly rose, looking away from Set, and started walking. “Ah. Wait.”

She stopped in her tracks. Her face began to contort in rage. “Yes?” She asked softly, trying to hide her spite.

“From one Chaos Deity to another, did you see what just happened?”

She said nothing, her fists clenched so tight she drew blood.

“Good. You can learn. Dismissed.” She proceeded out of the box, leaving the pair. Set exhaled and hunched over, flipping the switch under his chin before closing his eyes.

“Hey,” Shiva said.

“…That was uncalled for. I am sorry you saw that.”

“Thanks for defending him. Hanuman never cared what anyone thought. Always went with the flow, you know? It’s why Vishnu trusted him around Rama.” He lay back in his seat. “Those two are not going to be okay after this.”

Set shook his head.

You were one in a million, Hanuman. Set thought. The Heavens are quieter without you.

Valhalla

Mount Aetna

 Brünhilde and Göll sat on a wooden bench reading a message on the former’s tablet, the dim-white glow sticking out amongst the room’s red stone walls. The occasional burst of flames from a furnace on the other side colored the room with soft yellows and oranges, and the hum of machines whirring and hammers banging turned the room into a bizarre yet harmonic display of the workshop’s master. The two were too focused on the tablet to acknowledge this industrial symphony; the message’s contents were plain as day and a growing point of concern.

“Damn…I was hoping he’d pick someone else.” Brünhilde said. “I guess losing Hanuman shook him.”

“What makes you say that?” Göll asked.

“Set won’t admit it, but he’s got favorites. Other than Athena and Ukko, he’s done everything he could to keep the Fighters from mingling with us. Those two were exceptions only because he likely trusted them more than anyone.”

“And Hanuman was just nice to everyone…” Göll lowered her head.

Brünhilde nodded and sighed. She tapped the screen, bringing up the Roster.

Current Score

Humanity: 4

The Gods: 4

1. Workshop: X Masamune VS Ogun O
2. Hide and Seek: O Lyudmila Pavlichenko VS Hou Yi X
3. Ballroom: O Dandares Dos Palmares VS Epona X
4. Slapstick: X Charles Chaplin VS Ame-no-Uzume O
5. Storytelling-Setting: X Lon Chaney VS Cernunnos O
6. Storytelling-Villains: O Petar Blagojević VS Prometheus X
7. Storytelling-Heroes: X Fu Hao VS Athena O
8. Wrestling: O Ghulam Butt VS Hanuman X

 

Remaining Fighters For Humanity

Muhammad Ali

Jacob

Julie d'Aubigny

 

 Contests Remaining

Ballroom

Snowdrift

Beat The Drum

 “If you two are done talkin’ over there and actin’ like I’m not here, I’d appreciate it.” A gruff voice on the other side of the workshop yelled out. The two looked over to the source, a tall, broad-shouldered God in a toga wearing leather gloves and boots, his black hair done up in several small buns lining his head. “I can work and talk, even if I don’ like the latter.”

 Hephaestus

God of Fire, Smithing, and Volcanoes

(Greek Pantheon)

 He was hunched over a table, drawing something on a large sheet of blue paper with a pencil.

“Never doubted your ability. Just didn’t want to bother you while you worked.”

“It’s Ragnarök and Pandora’s involved. I shouldn’t have to tell you I’d be keen on what the hell’s goin’ on.” He said without looking away from his table. “Is she goin'?”

“Yes. Both Set and I kept our word that her contest would not be selected until day two. The fact he chose King of the Mountain was likely a courtesy for you.”

“Smart guy, but not needed. The final touches were done a while ago.” He tapped his forehead with the eraser of his pencil. “This will be one of my best works yet.”

“Up there with the Ten Wonders?”

Hephaestus turned to look at her, his eyes lit up by the furnace a few meters from his table. “Depends on how she uses it. My creations are not strong on their own. They are tuned to their wielders and require them to bring out their potential. If she’s anything like me…it’ll be like breathin’ for her.”

“Good,” Brünhilde said, smiling.

“Did Set pick her opponent yet?” Brünhilde pursed her lips. Hephaestus’ expression stiffened.

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah…it’s Eris.” A loud bang came from a door to Brünhilde’s right and Hephaestus’ left. The two looked, seeing a door nearly knocked off its hinges and a barefoot young woman standing on the threshold. She was slightly shorter than Brünhilde and wore blue pajamas with small red flames stenciled throughout the top and bottom. Her waist-length black hair hung around her face, obscuring her right eye while her left burned bright red.

 Pandora

Daughter of Hephaestus

(Greek)

 Göll jumped out of her seat and plopped on the ground, while Brünhilde stood up.

“So it is her,” Pandora said, her voice burning with fury.

“…How’d you know?”

“The message boards are going crazy after someone caught sight of Eris making a scene about going next.” She turned to her father. “Is it ready?”

Hephaestus leaned back a little. “…It is, but-“

“No buts. Geirölul!” She turned back and yelled to someone in the other room. “It’s true! Let’s go!”

“Son of a bitch, finally!” A woman’s voice said. A few seconds later, a young woman floated into view behind Pandora. She wore a dress that was reminiscent of a Japanese kimono, draping off her shoulders. Under her dress was a black bodysuit, and she wore disconnected flowing sleeves on her arms. The kimono was held in place by a large black bow, and she wore long white stockings that she paired with a pair of platform shoes that resembled geta. Her hair was tied back in a prim bun save for her bangs; they were swirled together just above her brow and hung off her shoulders. This ornate hairstyle was finished off with a kokoshnik hat and wing-shaped clips on each side of her head. The most striking feature, however, was her eyes, which had rectangular pupils like a goat. They were full of excitement and anger as she looked past Pandora to Hephaestus’ table.

Geirölul

5th Sister of the Valkyries

 “Is it done yet?” She said. Hephaestus, slowly, reached his right hand over to the blueprint and slid it across the table.

“It is,” He said solemnly. “Don’t get your hair in knots over it.”

Slowly, Geirölul floated past her teammate and stopped in front of the table, scanning the blueprint. “This is cool… man, this will be good…” She turned back to Pandora. “Your dad’s still awesome.” She turned back, freezing upon seeing her sisters, and grew a nasty smile. “Not surprised to see you two here. Excited to see us knock Eris into the ground?”

Göll squinted at her sister. Still ready to brawl, huh, Geir?

“Did you get a full look at it?” Pandora asked.

“’Course I did.”

“Then let’s get ready.”

Geirölul raised her covered hand. “Hold it.”

“Why?”

Geirölul looked over at Hephaestus, then gave Pandora a knowing look.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Geirölul floated over to her sisters, landing next to Göll. Without warning, she ran her fingers through her little sister’s hair, tussling it.

Pandora looked at her dad, looking at his face. She then looked away and pursed her lips.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Hephaestus walked over to her. He stopped in front of her and slowly wrapped her in his arms. Slowly, she wrapped hers around his torso.

“Pan, I know how much you want this. How much could be fixed by you going out there, but it’s Eris.”

“I know.”

“She’s in the Circles for more than just golden apples or some shit like that.”

“I can beat her.”

“I don’ doubt that, Pan, but please let me say it.”         

Pan buried her face in his shirt.

Please…please don’t go. He thought. “I’m…scared of her, Pan. I’m scared of what she’s capable of. I know you can beat her, but I need you to promise me. Promise me that you will make gettin’ back your number one mission.”

“Dad.”

Hephaestus’ hug tightened a little.

I can’t lose you, Pan. He thought, and she knew.

The Valkyrie trio watched on in silence, at least until Geirölul started sniffling.

Fuck. She thought. I’m thinking of Dad now. Damn it, I’m the tough one! She remembered days she argued and fought with her sisters. As children, teens, and even adults. How he was there, trying to keep the peace, and how that peace left with him.

“Hephaestus, I’m sorry, but…but she needs to go,” Brünhilde said.

“I know,” Hephaestus said, letting go of his daughter.

“I’m coming back, Dad. And I will find a way to get Epi back,” She said.

Hephaestus smiled.

“Go get her.” Pandora started walking back to her bedroom. Geirölul nodded to her sisters and followed behind her. The pair walked through the door and shut it behind them.            

“Brünhilde,” Hephaestus said, his aura slowly flowing out. She flinched a little. “That’s my baby girl. I don’ have much in this place, except what I put together with these two hands of mine.” He showed her his large, gloved hands. “Do you know what it’s like to be a parent?”

“...No, I don’t.”

“Right answer, but you do know what it means to love someone so much you’d do anythin’, no matter how vile, to keep them safe.”

She nodded as a few people popped up in her thoughts. “You’re also smart. Smart enough to do stupid shit, like what you’re pullin' with one of your few real friends left. I hope Sieg can still look you in the eye after this.”

Göll’s eyes shifted between her sister and the Smithing God. This is getting bad… She thought.

A small but heavy aura began to flow out of Brünhilde as her gaze turned ice cold. “Leave Sieg out of this, and there’s no one I trust more than Pan.”

Hephaestus smiled, but his eyes betrayed his fury. “Good to know where we stand. Just so you know, I’m also really good at takin’ things apart.”

Brünhilde remained still.

“I’m not Zeus, so this is not a pride thing. If my baby girl does not come back…you know what’s comin’. Siegfried will need to find another woman to pine for him. Hopefully, a better one.”

Brünhilde remained still, her gaze unwavering from the stalwart God prepared to snuff her life out.

In the hall outside, a light began to pierce the room from the cracks in the door, shining on the two. A loud bang came from behind the door, and the light vanished.

Valhalla Arena

(A few hours later)

 “Welcome back! We hope you’re all ready for the next exciting round of Ragnarök!” Heimdall roared as he soared over the audience. “Before we begin, we here at Valhalla Arena apologize for the fallout in Round Eight. To prevent it from happening again, we renovated the arena and gave a fresh new setup!”

Where once existed a large hole supporting the Ash Sapling, a vast cityscape sat at the bottom of a hundred-meter-deep pit. Large stone buildings supported by large white columns formed blocks separated by dozens of cobblestone paths. At the city’s epicenter in the middle of a large fountain stood a tall stone statue of a muscular God in a toga wielding a staff topped with an eagle in one hand and a bolt of lightning in the other.

“As per the request of both sides, the arena has been designed in homage to the great city-states of Greece! But what was once a place of learning and culture shall soon transform into a battleground of deceit, tactics, and unyielding brutality! Are you ready, everyone!?”

The arena roared with the cheers of both Human and God.

Valhalla Arena

Game Master Box Seats

 Set, up in his box seat, surveyed the arena and its splendor.

“Heimdall outdid himself with this one.” He spoke.

“Of course!” A strawberry blonde God in a green toga sitting on Set’s left said proudly. “He’s the kind of God who can’t restrain himself when it comes to putting on a show.”

Set looked over to his guest. “Hmm. I can understand that, but I am not sure why you are here, Apollo.”

“My student is fighting today. I want to see if she can become beautiful again. After all,” He hunched over, steepening his fingers with a sly look in his eye. “This monstrous collision of souls will bring out her true beauty.”

Valhalla Arena

Back down at the Arena’s center, Heimdall hovered in place. “Let’s get this started, everyone! He waved his free hand to the West.

“Introducing the Fighter for Humanity in Round Nine!”

The Western Gate slowly creaked open, releasing purple mist.

 “In ages long ago, this woman bent the hearts and minds of Men and Gods to her will by her mere existence!

Created by Hephaestus and Gifted by the other Greek Gods with glory, beauty, cunning, and wit, she brought about the fall of many with nary a word and a glance of her splendor!

But this beautiful flower, adorned with poisonous thorns, brought nothing but tragedy and ruin wherever she went!

For with her blessings, she also held a monstrous curse!

Within her hands she carried the second nail in Humanity’s coffin since Eden; The Box of All The World’s Evils!”

 Ghostly wails and phantoms erupted out of the gate as a young woman, adorned in a silver blouse, a red and gray vest, blue pants, metallic red and gray boots, and gauntlets, entered the arena. Her deep black hair was done into a long ponytail and tucked into her blouse. Several Humans in the audience began to boo and jeer as she made her way from the gate to the center of the arena.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR US?!”

“JUSTICE FOR PROMETHEUS AND EPIMETHEUS!”

Heimdall looked over at the Humans and winced. Guys, I just play up these things! He thought. No reason to go this far! He cleared his throat.

“She unleashed all these evils upon the world, dooming mankind to the Great Flood and extinction were it not for the Gods' mercy upon Noah!

Now, she returns to continue the reign of terror she started, this time aimed at the very Heavens who birthed her!"

She stopped several meters away from Heimdall, her stone-cold gaze aimed towards the East Gate.

"The Most Beautiful Evil!

The Bringer of The End!

The Scion of the Greeks!

Make some noise for

PANDORAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

 The Human audience continued to boo and jeer. Some even began throwing food in the arena, but none of it came close to her position.

“WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE, PIG!”

 Pandora rolled her eyes.

Heimdall waved his hand to the East Gate.

“Now introducing the Fighter for the Gods!” The East Gate opened, releasing a radiant golden light. Within it, a single figure made its way through the hall to the entrance.

"When the Greek Goddesses quarreled over their beauty and strength, it was she who started it! The result? The Trojan War that ancient world apart!

Why?

Because she could!

From battlefield to battlefield, this Goddess leads her children in campaigns to spread misery and pain for no other reason than for personal joy!

Toil!

Delusion!

Famine!

Pain!

Lawlessness!

Oath-breaking!

 The armies of the Machai, Phonoi, Hysminai, and the last, Oblivion, all call her Mother!

 ‘If it is beautiful, it must be mad vile! If it is loved, it shall be hated! If it is good, it must be spoiled! For if it is not me, then it cannot shine like me!’”

 Eris walked out of the gate, adorned in her pastel pink toga, leather sandals, bracelets, and a beautiful wreath in her short brunette hair that looked like a twisted tree branch. In her left hand, she lobbed a small golden apple up into the air and caught it on the descent, continuing to toss and catch it as she walked. Several Gods jeered and booed her, with several Humans joining in.

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE!? BOTH OF THEM!?” One Human woman yelled.

“Hell, this is another disaster waiting to happen!” A reptilian God said, hanging his head and covering his face with his clawed hands.

“She is The Queen of Strife!

The Stealer of Joy And Peace!

The Most Vicious Child of The Night!

Give it up for

ERIIIIIIIIIS!!!!” 

 Both women stood across from each other, surrounded by scorn and mockery from the audience; Eris grinning and Pandora scowling.

“Enjoying yourself?” Pandora asked barely above a whisper.

“What else can I do when there’s so much happening around us, Daddy's Favorite Murderer? Must be rough fighting for your species when they badmouth you. Better than being home, I guess. At least you don’t have to look at your fugly dad back in your hovel.”

Pandora’s eyes dilated. Her knuckles popped in her gauntlets.

“Now, let’s get onto business! Time for the rules of the contest for the Round! And what an irony! Manhunt!”

Suddenly, dozens upon dozens of clones of Eris and Pandora started filling the streets. Some flowed from the buildings, around curbs, and others popped out of alleys. Soon, the entire town was bustling with clones of the two. Some were shopping, others were looking at their tablets while they walked, or working at stands.

An entire city, full of Pandoras and Erises.

1. The arena will be filled with countless copies of both Fighters. They all will act and move as if they are the real thing, but there are only two real people in the entire arena!
2. The Fighters must seek each other out and attack only each other! Any clone struck by a direct attack will explode!
3. For every clone destroyed, the explosion will increase in size and intensity! The copies will also start attacking the real ones if too many clones are destroyed!
4. The last Fighter alive is the winner!

 “Are you serious!?” Eris asked. “That’s so boring!” She then smiled. I…am going to enjoy this. She thought, watching a few clones walk around.

Pandora leered at her.

Liar. She thought.

I just enforce the rules; I don’t make them! Heimdall thought. “Do both Fighters understand the rules!?”

Pandora nodded among her clones as she started walking around.

Eris clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes as she stepped back and vanished into the crowd.

“Alrighty then!” He floated up higher. He stopped in the air and looked back down.

“Fighters ready!?” He raised his free hand. Eris wound back to the right and raised her leg. Heimdall then chopped down. “FIGHT!!!”

Dumb bitch. Eris thought. She threw the apple, launching straight at where Pandora was standing. It made contact with one of the Pandoras, caving her head in with a nasty crunch. “Gotcha!“ The damaged Pandora exploded in a loud pop and flash. “What the-!?”

She raised her right arm to cover her eyes. To her left, and out of her line of sight, Pandora wound back her right arm and fired her fist. It slammed into Eris’ left cheek. Pandora felt her jaw dislocate under the blow, and she fell away.

Apollo jumped in the air, screaming for joy.

Eris rolled on the ground and got back to her feet, her jaw hanging off to the right. Her eyes lit up with fury as she reset her jaw, looking down at the ground between her and Pandora.

Teeth, at least three, lay bloody on the ground between them.

Fuck yeah, Pan! Geirölul yelled in her mind.

“You can, and have, made my life a living hell. I tried to move past that for my dad and my own sake.” Pandora stepped back into the crowd and vanished. “But you screwed up.” Her voice said behind Eris. She turned and saw only the crowd. “You insulted my dad. That…is unforgivable.” She heard it to her left. “And now…I admit I never could forgive your ugly mug.”

UGLY?! Eris roared in her mind.

“So I’m here to collect on your debt.”

Blood began to slowly seep out of Eris’ mouth as she glared at the crowd around her, seeing her clones match her damage.

“The next blow is for Epi.”

 Valhalla Arena

Bleachers

 “Get ready, Göll,” Brünhilde said, smiling wickedly at her sister. “It’s about to get good.”

“Why? Is it because of how strong Pan is?”

“Oh, she’s strong, alright. She and Rommie are damn near unstoppable.” She turned to Göll. “You know what ‘Pandora’ means, right?”

“The All-Gifted?”

Brünhilde nodded. “The name chosen by her father, and it means exactly what you think it means. It’s also why she’s…”

Pandora dashed through the crowd.

“Our Strongest Ace.”

The Most Beautiful Evil VS The Queen of Strife

 

Helheim

Hades’ Castle

Outer Bailey

Millennia Ago

 

“Ever fought bare-handed before?” Týr asked, stretching his back. He then rolled his shoulders and fired a few short uppercuts, his golden arm’s polished surface reflecting the surrounding torch trees' glow.

“I have, but it has been a while. I think the last time was when Zeus came running down here after Hera chided him for arguing with Marduk,” Hades said, stabbing his bident into the stone floor before slipping his coat off and draping it on the pommel. “I have never enjoyed it, but if Zeus asks, I may indulge.”

No surprise there. Týr thought.

“Why are we doing this?”

“You taught me chess. So I thought it was right to teach you this.” Týr rolled his neck, feeling it pop. “Consider it a thank you.”

You could be a little more honest. Why do such aggravating people surround me… Hades smiled. “I don’t see the point. Don’t some of those ‘Martial Artists’ use weapons?”

“They do! Buuuut, it’s not just to get better with them. Many techniques use weapons to learn application and form. Your techniques with the Bident are absolutely monstrous.” Týr smiled, feeling a chill. “But you may not always be in a position to use it. Learning how to transition those attacks to empty-handed techniques may come in handy.”

Hades stared down at his hands, turning them slowly and flexing his fingers. “Really now? And will you explain to Persephone why my nail polish is chipped?” He could see her hunched over his hands, her curly pecan hair draped over her right shoulder, her soft grass-green eyes focused on his hands as she slowly brushed them. He could never forget her hand holding his still while she worked. “She gets rather fraught if they’re damaged.”

Týr smirked. “I bet she would be, but I bet you’d like to be able to protect her and your brothers regardless of the situation.”

Hades clenched his fists and widened his stance. He brought his right back and stretched out his left, both curled as if holding something invisible.

“When you put it that way, I might humor this.”

  

The Heavens

Eden

Mountain Biome

“Odin,” Hades said. “Did you know Týr became a constant nuisance down in Helheim?”

Odin leered at him.

“Of course you didn’t. Made his way to Tartarus quite a few times, too. Never understood why someone up in Valhalla would willingly visit Helheim, even breaking the rules to do it.” His back muscles flexed. “But then I remember my father.” The floor cracked and broke under his right foot, and he shot forward.

Odin scoffed and started whispering.

Hades twisted his upper body to the left and pulled his right arm close to his ribs. The air and floor tore away as he sailed through the air. His left foot crashed down, and his right fist fired. The air twisted around his fist as it shot forward. “Persephone-Lore!” He roared.

“Fimmti Galdor: Fafnir,” Odin declared.

Five rune-covered shields appeared and surrounded Odin, four in all directions and one above him.

Hades’ fist struck one dead-center, and the barrier released an echoing dull groan. His eyes widened slightly as the force of his blow flowed back through his arm in tinges of pain. He felt the skin on his knuckles tear, and he pulled it back.

Odin smiled and huffed.

“Huh, fancy that,” Hades said, feeling blood flowing down his fingers. “That’s one of the famous Galdor, isn’t it? I heard you made yourself known in Asgard through them.”

Odin stood silently, leering at Hades.

“Too assured to brag? I see...” Hades lowered his stance. “Let’s try this again, but better.” The blood on his fingers hardened, wrapping around his hand and forming a makeshift glove with razor-sharp fingertips. He inhaled, his torso expanding and muscles swelling. His upper body twisted to the right, kicking up a tornado from the sheer force of his body. He straightened his fingers into a spear-hand and thrust it forward. “Persephone-Lore! Ichor Desmos!” His makeshift spear smashed into the shield, and his fingers bent in every direction. Sparks erupted from their collision, and Odin squinted. Then, his eyes widened. Cracks webbed out from the point of impact.

WHAT?! Odin thought.

Hades' broken spear hand smashed through the shield. His right foot stepped in immediately, the blood gauntlet snapping his fingers back in place to form a fist. He stepped into range, the untreaded ground between Odin and the shield that nullified the monstrous blows of the greatest Jotnar, and his left foot stomped down. The moment it smashed the ground below it, Hades' empowered fist smashed into Odin’s solar plexus. “ICHOR EOS: CHEIR!”

Odin’s body folded around the blow, and he flew back, smashing through his barriers and smashing into the distant mountainside. Large boulders tore away and fell to the ground with Odin, littering the ground.

Metatron stood in silence, feeling Gungnir continue to struggle against the Bident several meters below him, taking in what was once thought impossible.

Sir?! Set said in his mind. Did Hades just…just punch Odin?!

He destroyed Fafnir…How?! Metatron thought.

Hades stepped back as more blood flowed up to his elbow and hardened into armor.

“I am Hades, the King of Helheim and the Eldest Brother,” Hades declared as Odin slowly rose from the rubble, blood trickling from his mouth. “And it doesn’t matter what you use. Because of those two things, I shan’t be defeated by anyone.”

Jörð Arena

Gods’ Conference Room

“Alright,” Marduk said, sitting down in his seat at the table. Sarpanitu sat to his right in one of the uncovered chairs, her eyes locked on Lugh. “We’re all ears.”

Lugh rubbed his forehead and looked away.

“Lu—” Marduk started, but Sarpanitu wrapped her hand around his. He paused and leaned back in his chair.

Lugh nodded and looked at the pair. “Do you two know the truth about Set?” He asked.

“We do,” Sarpanitu answered.

“My Uncle told me this morning. Apparently, he found out shortly before Round Four. It makes a lot of this uncomfortable.”

Marduk nodded, looking down at the table.

“But that’s not what bothers me. I know my family, and I know the pain he caused them.”

“Wait, you know about—”

Lugh nodded.

“Well, damn,” Marduk whispered.

“I know my family is complicit in Winchester. I know they barely avoided the brunt of the fallout because of what my Uncle conceded.”

“One kingdom to protect his whole Pantheon.”

“A kingdom of people who defended themselves from invaders.”

The couple remained silent.

“A kingdom that did not deserve the fate it was dealt.” Lugh shook his head. “But I’m digging up old wounds, and I have a bigger problem to deal with.” Lugh rubbed his forehead again. “You two know about my trips to Midgard?”

“The ones you think your Uncle doesn’t know about?” Sarpanitu asked. “We do. You know Macha is scared half to death when you go.”

“Please don’t remind me. Anyway, during one of those trips, I met a human couple in our territory on Midgard. Sualtam and Deichtine. They were kind to me, offering me a place to get away from a lot of…stuff back home.”

Marduk and Sarpanitu exchanged a glance.

“Hey, I get it. Old, deep wounds are hard to let go of; Bres’ reign did a lot of damage.” Lugh patted the hair covering his ears. “Had to grow out my hair because of it. But that didn’t matter to them. They were minor nobles and had no reason to be charitable to me. But they did, and I couldn’t leave them without giving them something for that kindness. When I told them I was a God—”

“You told them?!” Sarpanitu asked.

Lugh nodded. “No secrets between us. When they learned this, they asked if it was possible to help them have a child. You two know what that struggle’s like.”

Marduk gently squeezed Sarpanitu’s hand. Damn it, Lugh. You make it hard to be angry at you.

“So I gave them some of my power, and behold! They have their baby, Setanta! Ah, but they couldn’t let that go!” Lugh leaned and propped his head up with his right hand. “Said I deserved more than just their hospitality! So they introduced me to this druid.”

Kingdom of Ulaid

Ireland

Millennia Ago

Under the shade of a large, old tree, Lugh, in a long blue robe over brown pants, watched Sualtam and Deichtine from a distance. The couple sat on a hillside, cooing over a newborn child in a swaddling blanket. Even from that distance, he could see a small smattering of silver hair on the infant’s head. Standing next to him, hunched over from age and held up by a massive wooden staff, was an old woman in brown robes, her hood pulled down showing her wrinkled face, large brown eyes, hooked nose, and silver hair held neatly in a bun.

“Well, guess you could put me out of a job,” She said. “Nothing I could do to help them.”

“You did everything possible,” Lugh answered. “Deichtine is barren, and Sualtam is sterile. They had no chance.”

The druid sighed. “Until you came along.”

“Eh, I didn’t think it right to stop a happy couple from having a chance at being parents.”

“Makes you think of Cian and Ethniu?”

“Huh?”

The Druid turned to him and flashed a wry grin. “A red-headed young man with eyes of different colors pops out of nowhere, and suddenly, a barren couple is blessed with a child for a good deed? If I didn’t know better, I would think you a Fae and trying to torment them.”

“…You know who I am?”

“I do,” She said, exasperated. “I know about a lot of things. Sadly, none of my children carry the connection. Not many Humans do, anymore. Our tether to you all is fading, and I fear that bodes ill for everyone.” She turned to Lugh. “Then, there’s you. Who bridges that gap just by answering a small prayer. This world may not be screwed after all.”

“You sound like my Uncle. How do you go from sounding so ‘regal’ to being crusty?”

“Age, and a lot of it.”

Both snickered.

“Gods don’t worry about aging and the like. I think you’re lucky and cursed there. No, Lugh, they worry about other things. You’re all so long-lived, yet that means the future is so vast and uncertain you have no idea what’s happening a year, a decade, a century, or even a millennium from now, and you have to be ready for it.”

Lugh nodded.

“Nuada and Macha have high hopes for you, you know. They see the future of your people in you.”

Lugh looked out towards the open field. “Yeah, they do.”

“Terrifying, I imagine.”

Lugh let out a mirthless laugh. “Unbearably.”

“Then let me help you. I can’t see the future like some of you. Thank the Heavens for that. But I can give you a rough idea of what may come.”

Lugh froze.

“However, how the future plays out is up to you. Fate is not set in stone, Lugh. It is the culmination of every living being’s choices, but some have a greater influence than others. Like you.”

Lugh stayed still, hanging on her words.

“If you become the King they want, you will bury Eire," Her voice echoed in his hidden ears.

"If you become the King they expect, you will betray Eire….”

Jörð Arena

Gods’ Conference Room

“If I become the King they need, I may save Eire,” Lugh finished reciting.

“May?” Sarpanitu asked.

“Yeah. May. I’m not ignorant of Eire’s history, and despite my Uncle’s efforts, Eire’s peace is fragile. Bres’ time as Supreme God and King soured a lot of our external relationships. I don’t think many of the Chief Gods see him as truly earning his position back.”

“The adage of ‘When we fight, we win. Such are the Gods’ still hangs over everyone,” Marduk admitted. “But not everyone dealt with monsters of the level of Bres and Balor.”

“No, but no one cares. That’s why there’s so much faith in me, despite the rest of the Pantheon…you know.”

“That’s rough, Lugh,” Marduk whispered.

“I know, right?!” Lugh said, trying to laugh. “But whenever they see me, they see him.”

“Oh…” Sarpanitu whispered.

“That’s why I got to prove my loyalty is to Eire. To the Tuatha De Danann. That I can be strong enough to take my Aunt and Uncle’s place…but that prophecy is messing with me.”

“Do Nuada and Macha know?”

Lugh nodded. “They’re not bothered by it.” He looked away and closed his eyes.

Damn it, you two. Marduk thought. That’s the worst thing you could’ve said!

“I mean, why would they be? They’ve both fought for so long; the idea of dying doesn’t bother them!” He looked up, fighting back tears. “But…I don’t want to lose them. I did…*everything…*because they did so much for me! After what happened to my birth parents...my real brothers...And there’s no way I can pay them back! But now!” He let out a rough breath. “Now! Because I did all of this, I may end up making choices that could kill them and everyone!” He laughed mirthlessly, and the tears fell. “That fucking prophecy all but states I will lose them.”

Sarpanitu rose, walked slowly around the table to Lugh, bent down, and hugged him.

“I’m sorry…”

Sarpanitu’s face scrunched a little, but she kept the feelings at bay. “No. Do not apologize.” She released the hug and stepped back.

“I can’t help it. It feels like the prophecy is coming true." He breathed deeply, preparing himself." Please don’t tell anyone, guys. At the council, I voted for Humanity’s survival. I voted for them, but I didn’t say anything in their defense. I was too scared of disappointing everyone and pushing them away. I could have said something! All of Humanity’s defenders lost their vote. I didn’t, and I could have done something!”

“You could have, but it wouldn’t have solved anything,” Marduk admitted, leaning forward. “You’d have just painted another target on your back just to be the one to say ‘I did something.’ It’s romantic, but self-destructive, and there's too much resentment, damaged pride, and old wounds to be swayed.”

“Maybe…maybe I couldn’t do something, and I just let it happen. Now, Týr’s gone. I didn’t even get to say anything to him before Ragnarök started, and I've got to fight Rommie. One brother’s dead, and I’m fighting another.” He closed his eyes, trying to let the words flow without tearing his soul as they came. “I’m becoming a King, but I don’t know if this is the King I should be.”

Marduk leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Memories of an adolescent God in orange robes running around their home, arms full of scrolls, before crashing into him, flowed in. He looked down, seeing the young God’s large eyes look up at him in awe. Another time, in the near future, that young God looked at him, terrified and clinging to his pants, crying. He remembered that day, coming home covered in wounds and barely standing, but refusing to collapse in front of his son.

I’m realizing I may have scared you too much back then, Nabu. He thought. By All, I did that again yesterday. I must be better.

Marduk rose from his seat and walked around the table. He stopped in front of Lugh and Sarpanitu and offered his hand.

“Wha?” Lugh asked.

Marduk wiggled his fingers. Lugh looked at his hand and slowly took it. Marduk pulled him up, and Lugh got himself to his feet.

“You feel that?” Marduk asked, gripping his hand.

“Your grip?”

Marduk shook his head. “My world. It is small, despite my Pantheon’s size. It is my home and people. It is my wife and son. It is small, heavy, and irreplaceable.” His grip tightened. “Grip it back.”

Lugh looked down at their hands. He let out a labored breath and nodded before gripping Marduk’s hand tightly.

“Is that it?”

Lugh’s grip tightened. Marduk’s eyes widened a little as a small surge of pain shot up his arm.

“There it is.”

“There is what?”

“The strength to bear a world. Their world. Your world. Like Tadakatsu Honda, you have the strength to protect it, yet you are gentle enough not to destroy it yourself. So many Chief Gods come and go; more are ousted than properly succeeded. But you have the potential to be different. There is so much working against you that you are almost entitled to say no, but you don’t.”

Lugh shook his head.

Marduk released his grip. “You know how precious your world is, even if the others don’t. You know the hell Eire’s been through, and you want to give your family the peace they never had.”

Lugh nodded.

“Then you must understand you will be put in tough situations. Ones you may never be ready for. Ones nothing or no one can prepare you for. But they know better than anyone, even you, that you will make the right choice. The best choice.”

“How can you be sure?” Lugh whispered.

“If they felt you needed to change, they’d have done it.”

Lugh cleared his throat. “Well, you’re not wrong…”

“We can’t speak for them entirely,” Sarpanitu added. “But they believe there will come a time when you are on your own. I’m sure there is some part of them that still wants to protect you. That’s why today is important.”

“I know…I’m sorry I threw this at you two.”

“Not a problem,” Marduk said. “Don’t make it an everyday thing, though. Every other day. Maybe.”

They all chuckled, then Lugh felt something vibrate in his pocket. Lugh pulled out his tablet and saw a notification.

Lugh, Set’s occupied, and we can’t hold this off any longer. Are you ready?

Lugh sighed.

I’m ready. I’ll send the notification. Be ready to respond.

The tablet vibrated in his hand.

Always am.

Of course you are, Rommie. He thought. Lugh tapped away at his tablet, then pocketed it.

Marduk and Sarpanitu’s tablets vibrated. They pulled them out and opened the notification.

 

Contest for Round Twelve:

King of The Mountain

Fighter for The Gods

Lugh

They’re taking control of the Round. Marduk thought, smiling.

“Well, I guess I need to get ready.”

“We’ll be watching,” Sarpanitu said.

“Thank you, guys.” Lugh turned around and left the room.

“My Moon And Stars,” Marduk said.

“Yes, My Sun?”

“I don’t think this Round is going to end well."

Sarpanitu nodded. Her tablet vibrated in her hand. Another notification.

 

Contest for Round Twelve:

King of The Mountain

Fighter for Humanity

Romulus

 

 

“But he’ll be ready for it.”

Einherjar Barracks

Romulus’ Room

 

“It’s time, Mold,” Romulus said, wrapping a leather shoulder pad across his chest.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for my Dad?” Skalmöld asked, walking to the door.

“As much as I want to respect all this as a courtesy, I’m getting impatient. He’s not answering any messages, and the wait between Rounds Ten and Eleven will get people antsy. Plus.” He walked over and picked up his blue scutum shield. “Humanity finally has a glimpse of hope, and I don’t want to leave them waiting.”

“Well, aren’t you considerate?” She said, smiling.

“I try.”

She opened the door and stopped. Standing in the hall were over a dozen figures in gray and black military working uniforms. All of them at parade rest. At the front and standing in the doorway was a tall, broad, older-looking man with grey hair and a well-groomed mustache.

“Sir,” He said. “We’re here to escort you to the arena.”

 

Summanus

God of Evening Storms

(Roman Pantheon)

“Not surprised, but I would think Terminus would be leading the way.”

“I’m here!” A voice yelled from the back. “But Lt. Col. Summanus felt it wrong not to do it himself!”

Romulus sighed and walked up to Skalmöld’s side. “You’re too good to me.”

“What goes around comes around,” Summanus said, working hard to keep his stoic bearing.

“Well, okay then.” Romulus turned to Skalmöld. “I wanted this to be a bit more intimate, but plans don’t survive first contact.”

“You can still try if it’s not indecent.”

Romulus blushed. He took her hands in his. “Skalmöld, Queen of Rome. Queen of the Roman Pantheon. You who holds my heart and soul. Will you fight with me? For Humanity? For…our family?”

Light started shining from their entwined hands.

“What did I say when we were like this all those years ago?”

Romulus smiled, recalling her back then, then focusing back on her.

The light intensified and enveloped them. Summanus and the others covered their eyes.

 

VÖLUND!

The Heavens

Eden

Mountain Biome

 

Back at Eden, Odin stood among the rubble. He saw Hades make a small cut on the top of his left forearm, letting blood flow and harden into another makeshift gauntlet. Then, he flexed his fingers, popping them.

He can amplify his raw power using his own blood? Odin thought. He felt something invisible tugging at his hand. Gungnir is slowly breaking free, but I need to buy time. He walked towards a boulder in his way and grabbed it with his left hand, and tossed it as if it were full of air. It has been a while since I had to fight without it. A manic grin erupted across his face, and he rocketed forward.

Hades leaned forward and shot like a rocket. The two fired their right fists, and they collided. Odin’s grin contorted his face as Hades scowled. The air around them exploded outward. The dust around them kicked up in a frenzy.

He is this strong?! Hades thought, pushing his fist against Odin’s. He snapped his hand open, gripped it over Odin’s, and pulled him in. His left fist looped under Odin’s and fired up to his chin. Odin’s head snapped back, and he felt his chin crack up to the teeth.

Stubborn brat! Odin thought. His head snapped back down, and he turned his trapped right fist counter-clockwise. The twist pulled Hades’s arm to the left, and Odin fired a left hook. His fist smashed into Hades’ exposed temple. Hades’ head snapped to his left, but his grip did not break. Hades rose and smashed his own left hook into Odin’s temple. Odin’s head rattled, and a few teeth flew from his mouth along with a splash of blood.

The pair faced each other, locked in their impromptu standoff. Hades could release his grip, but that would let Odin gain ground and cost him time. Time he knew he did not have. Gungnir was pinned, but would return to Odin eventually. Odin could use his natural raw strength to wrench his hand free, but any amount of focus on breaking free left him at Hades’ mercy.

These two Gods, two rulers unmatched in their realms, reached the smallest of stalemates. Could Hades overpower and pummel Odin to death? Could Odin outlast him before Gungnir returned? They did not know. Only time did.

But that is insufficient for one of them. Hades, knowing where he stood and what all stood behind him, did not let something else determine his future. He lurched Odin’s arm up, obscuring his vision. His left hand snapped up and bit down on Odin’s wrist. His back flexed to life, his knees bent a little, and he lifted Odin high above his head. A monstrous chill ran through Odin’s entire being.

“Today, you learn what it means to fight me!” Hades roared. He swung down. Persephone-Titan!”

Odin flew head-first into the valley floor with a massive thud. Hades and Metatron were both lifted off their feet. Cracks raced from the point of impact in all directions. He turned and lifted Odin back overhead and swung him back down. Metatron rose even higher off his feet and saw the mountains around them shake and release several large boulders.

Hades released his grip on the embedded Odin and jumped back several meters. He then jumped back towards him as more blood-armor wrapped around Hades’ right arm up to his shoulder. He snapped his left arm forward, the force launching him straight to Odin. “Persephone-Kallichoron!”

His right smashed straight into Odin’s lower torso, and Odin shot deep underground, tearing up hundreds of meters of valley floor.

Hades wagged his right hand and moved his fingers. I haven’t used these moves without the bident in a while. I am not confident my arms can handle the strain.

Suddenly, he felt something snake under the earth, scrambling to the other side of the valley. 

Damn it! He thought and broke into a sprint, following it. I can’t let it get back to him!

He followed it across the valley and started jumping from upturned jut to upturned jut. He felt it sink deeper and deeper into the soil. Then, it stopped.

Something dropped into his gut, and he started sweating. His head snapped in every direction, scanning the decimated battlefield. He focused on his feet, trying to feel out any sudden movements.

“You…” Odin’s voice echoed out of the earth and rubble.  “Tried to keep Gungnir from me… and fight me as my worthless son would have…” The earth rumbled and shook. Hades slid down the jut he stood on for more stable ground. “But I…am generous…” The rumbling intensified. “You took mine…But I will give you yours…” Hades felt something dig through the ground towards him. Just as he took a step back, something erupted out of the ground where he stood. He stepped back just enough for the prongs of his bident to skirt in front of his eyes. His right hand snapped around the shaft, and he flew along with it, soaring over the valley.

Hades flipped in the air and landed on solid ground, snapping his attention back to the other side. Odin, bent and broken, rose out of the rubble, but Gungnir was missing. Floating in front of him, which Hades could barely make out, was a small necklace. Metatron could see it and felt his blood boil.

“Fimmdánti Galdor: Iðunnar Koppr,” Odin said. The necklace glowed, and glowing vines shot out of the gem in its center, wrapping around Odin’s body. Hades and Metatron watched in disgust as the vines bent and twisted Odin’s body back into shape. The glow faded, and the necklace twisted and reformed back into a Gungnir.

“A high-speed homing attack and instant healing,” Hades said. “And here I thought Yama’s power was cheating!” He twirled the bident. “But otherwise this would be too easy.”

Odin floated towards him, smiling with his new teeth. He dropped to the ground and brandished his spear.

“Scared to fight me without your spells?” Hades asked.

Odin huffed, but said nothing.

“That’s what I—” Hades froze, and his sights locked on Odin. Or more specifically, his forehead. Týr, even your own father? He could barely make out the weak glow of an upward-pointing arrow.

Tiwaz.

Guess it’s not fully activated. Of course, you wouldn’t tell anyone how it works. Guess it’s time to find out!

Ullr's Globe

Outer Passage

"Well, you seem happy," Brigid said.

"Hmm? Maybe," Set answered, focused on the tablet's screen as the results of the match displayed while Oya sauntered towards the submerged gate. She raised her left clawed hand, and the liquid vanished into the ground. She walked over to the gate, lifted it, and descended.

"If you told me Pakkanen would be humiliated that badly, I would think you a liar."

"But you planned this, right?"

"I planned his potential defeat, but not the how. Oya went far beyond what I thought possible, and even countered his evolution."

"Well, that's great and all, but is she…stuck like that?"

Ullr's Globe

Northern Passageway

The gates above closed as Oya descended. As she descended the stairs, her strength slowly flowed out of her body. She could see Ogun, Eshu, and a third God in pale blue robes, carrying a staff, running behind them, fear in all their eyes. She reached the bottom step and collapsed.

"Oh crap, not like this!" Ogun yelled, reaching her first. He saw blood pouring from her body. He could hear cracking and tearing sounds erupting from her as her scales, tail, and horns tore off her body, falling to the floor and melting away. Her claws melted off in masses of flesh and blood, revealing her original limbs. Her draconic face peeled away, showing her true, blood-covered face underneath.

"Oko!" Eshu yelled. "We need to get her out of here, now!"

"On it!" He answered, throwing the staff in the air, letting it unfurl into a large tarp. The pair quickly lifted Oya on it and raced down the hall.

"The medical staff will meet you on the way! Don't rush and miss them!" Ogun yelled.

"We got it! Just get the machete!"

Ogun turned back to the staircase and looked up.

"Don't remind me…"

Ullr's Globe

Outer Passage

"Fortunately, no," Set answered. "Like Nuada, she was exposed to Niflheim, and it marked her. According to Oludumare, she can wield the power of the dead when she possesses their weapons. Makes you wonder what she could do if she had her pick of the litter."

"But I don't recall anyone using powers like that, except Oshumare."

Set nodded. "Oshumare isn't dead, but Shango is. He told me that when they were wed, Oshumare had axes and a sword forged with his fangs added as a gift. I do not recall the fang causing such a power."

"Then…what if Oya used the axes?"

"Possible. Oya used several of Shango's powers out there. I imagine Ogun made her sword with his axes, and with the fang still mixed in with them…"

"She got Oshumare's as well? It shouldn't work, but maybe the fact that it was a part of Shango's weapons counts?"

"The powers birthed from Niflheim are strange. Even I am not certain what it gives in return for pieces of souls, but we know one thing at least." Set sighed. "It does not seem permanent, but it is dangerous. She turned herself into a Primordial Beast, and could have easily killed herself doing it. Lu Ban has his hands full."

"Seems like it." Brigid leaned on his shoulder. "What's next?"

"Preparations for tomorrow. Hephaestus is busy at work, since he is up first. I imagine Hilde will likely pick Wrestling after, but the other contest is unknown."

"You don't think she'll pick Beat The Drum, do you?"

"She will not pick Capture the Flag or King of The Mountain. She will not admit it, but she's holding Georgios and Romulus for the final Rounds. If she is, Beat The Drum will be Round Ten."

"Týr's going to be happy."

"But Hilde will be heartbroken. I wish she had picked him and not Siegfried sometimes…"

"Týr's too much in his own head and can't let himself be happy outside of pursuing his goals. He was never a good match for her." Brigid poked Set's left arm. "And I quite like Sieg! He's a perfect fit for Hilde!"

"I know that!" Set said, chuckling a little. "But to be honest, I think I ruined that."

"Why?"

"I do not trust Odin, and I think she may have subconsciously done the same to his son. Maybe."

"Sounds like you're thinking you cause everything, again."

Set stifled a laugh. "Also maybe." He tapped a button on the tablet's side, dimming the screen. "Brigid."

"Yes?"

"I have things I need to do, and I am sorry I kept you in the dark. All of you. It is my worst habit."

"It is, but I understand now. All of it. I think you're wrong, but I understand."

"You may be right."

"I say that, but I can't make you stay here." She rose and stood. "Guess I need to check in on Epona."

"Please do not."

She turned back. "Why?"

"I have business there, and it is best you keep your distance. Do not worry. She will be safe."

"What's your business?"

Set rose, then looked in her eyes. He felt his heart pull at his soul. "I will not lie to you. Pakkanen is still alive, and I imagine he is likely going after Ryujin. He is the type of petty monster that, even in defeat, he takes a consolation prize."

Brigid reached out and grabbed Set's left hand. "Like what he did before?"

Set gently gripped her hand and lowered his head. "Yes. I was not fast enough then, and many times after. I want to be this time, even if I cannot make a difference."

Brigid released her grip. "Then know I'll be waiting to see you after you're done."

"I look forward to it." Set turned and departed.

Valhalla Arena

Lao Zi's Chambers

High above Ullr's Globe, within the VIP area of the Arena, Lao Zi sat at a desk, while Zhu Rong and Erlang Shen stood at his sides. All three watched the end of the Fourth Match replay on a floating hard light monitor.

"Is this what you were implying earlier?" Erlang Shen asked, his black armor reflecting the screen's glow. "About this tournament becoming a Gu?"

"Yes," Lao answered. "Each Round of Ragnarök is a grand one-off. We will never see those fighters continue to grow, but this Apocalypse is different. Each of them will push themselves to higher limits, knowing that the ones waiting for them are just as, if not more, dangerous than before. I don't know if Set planned this, but to put these eight in here is the most ideal situation for us."

"It is," Zhu Rong added, his sharp, vermillion armor carrying a soft glow. "Such opponents will bring out the old Lu Ban if they don't kill him first."

"You both say that, but there's the matter of Oya, and then the winner of A Block. I don't doubt Ban. Out of all of us, he took to Wu Xing the quickest, and Yu Huang trusted him the most. But tomorrow's not a cakewalk."

Zhu Rong nodded. "Oya defeated Pakkanen. I doubt anyone outside the Yoruba would believe it without seeing it."

"Shen," Lao said.

"Sir?" Erlang Shen asked.

"Head back to San Xin Shangdi, and go to the vault. Ban may not agree with this, but we need to retrieve the Tiānmìng sì qì."

"…All four?"

Lao nodded. "Ban will not be happy, but he needs them to stand against Oya. Rong."

"Sir."

"Contact the Four Beasts. Tell them we have a job."

Ullr's Globe

Northern Passageway

The Gates opened, and Ogun descended the stairs, machete in hand. The blade, despite the fierce power it held, sat comfortably in his grip.

I know. He thought. Today was rough for you. Oya's handling you a little too hard, but she's… He paused and let the silence in. He slowed his breathing until he could only feel it moving in and out. She's trying, but this is wrong. He shook his head. Who am I kidding? I don't know what else we can do for her except this. She's not talking to me about any of this and that… Her monstrous form invaded his thoughts. What the hell was that?!

He sighed and continued his descent.

The moment he reached the bottom, he discovered, much to his displeasure, he was not alone. Standing deep in the passage, smiling with a satisfied look, was Oshumare.

Fuck me… Ogun thought. "Here to see Oya? Hate to say it, but she's already in transit to Valhalla's Medical Wing."

"Oh…no, Ogun," He purred. "I am here to see you."

Of course you are.

"Your work with the machete was outstanding." Oshumare hummed. "I missed watching you work."

"I don't."

Oshumare let out a soft laugh, his eyes fixed on Ogun.

"So strong…so powerful…"

"And clearly still not comfortable with you around."

"Fine…way to kill the mood."

"You mean your mood. If you're worried about the machete, I found it and will return it to her."

"Oh, not that. I am here to ensure you're holding up your end of the bargain."

Ogun tasted something vile in the back of his mouth. "I am, now can I pass?"

"Prove it."

"That I'm doing my job?"

"Yes."

Ogun shook his head. "I already collected what remained of Prometheus' chains, but nothing of Futsunushi remains except his sword, or Baldr. I'll have to wait until tomorrow for more material."

"Nothing from the Humans?"

Ogun felt his blood boiling and his face starting to warm up. "I may be helping you two, but I will not sink that low. Even if I did, what material is there?"

"Fair. If only the Valkyries were still here after death. Maybe—"

"Oshumare."

"Hmmm."

"Don't make me do something you'll regret."

Oshumare stepped to the side and leaned against the wall, letting his fingers trace along the wall.

"You're too stubborn. No wonder Oya left you."

Ogun started walking and passed Oshumare, failing to keep his face from contorting with rage out of Oshumare's view.

Valhalla Arena

Medical Wing

Hunahpu's Room

"So what's your take?" Huitzilopochtli asked, arms crossed, sitting next to Hunahpu's bed. "Since you saw Lu Ban and Oya now."

Hunahpu and Xbalanque shared a glance.

"Lu Ban's mastery of Wu Xing is dangerous," Hunahpu said. "But it relies on consistent patterns and flow. Parashurama could not halt or mess with it, so he lost."

"Oya's adaptability and her growing power are key," Xbalanque continued. "She's the type who gets stronger the longer a fight goes, and if she gets better control compared to today…I'd say…Hunahpu? About sixty-two in her favor?"

"Maybe. We don't know what else Lu Ban can do. I don't think we can pull out other techniques like that big yell he did."

"Yeah. Maybe two or three more like it?"

"Definitely two."

Huitzilopochtli watched them work, amused at their work.

"If two, then I'm more towards fifty-four percent."

"Same. The only thing that can turn the tide is if Lu Ban can act quickly enough to Oya's changing powers, but if she adds more, then who knows?"

"More?" Huitz asked.

"Oya's going beyond what we thought she'd be willing to do," Xbalanque answered. "That transformation proves she's willing to take extreme risks. Maybe even accumulate more power?"

"You caught all that during the fight?"

Both nodded. "That was not just any fight either," Xbalanque said. "That was a fight with someone who insulted the dead and mocked her."

"Hell, he watched Shango die," Hunahpu added. "…and Quetz too." He shook his head. "With that being the case, I'm going with Oya."

"Same. Lu Ban can't beat her."

"Okay…," Huitz said. Been a while since I've seen something like this. I think the last time Xolo and Quetz. He smiled. "What about Barong?"

"Zero," the pair said in unison.

"What about you two?"

The pair exchanged another glance. "…Fifteen percent at best," Hunahpu said.

"Him seeing our fight shot our chances down hard. He also knows we have Völund," Xbalanque said.

"Any idea how to turn it into one hundred like today?"

"Maybe, but if we do, we might not win the fight after."

"We got to, Xbal," Hunahpu said. "For Quetz."

Xbalanque sighed. "For Quetz."

Valhalla Arena

Medical Wing

Hallways

Not too far from Hunahpu's room, a small yellow light floated through an open window into the brightly lit hall. It stopped in the center, taking in everything.

Where… It thought. I need…

It floated slowly down the hallway.

I can…hear it…I need it…

Soon, it found its target. Installed into the hall's wall between a pair of restrooms.

A water fountain.

It rocketed into the fountain's nozzle, vanishing. Suddenly, banging and bending sounds erupted behind it. The wall started cracking, and water started pouring through.

A few gods in lab coats entered the hall, brought by the sound.

One saw the crack first and walked over to it. He stared at it briefly before turning to the other two.

Before he could speak, a spike erupted from the wall, stabbing through his head. Ice erupted from it, covering him and pulling him towards the wall.

"Oh, shit!" One of the others yelled.

A large wolf's head broke out of the wall and bit their frozen colleague's upper body clean off. It then finished his remains and turned to the others.

It smiled.

"Ru—"

It opened its mouth, and its tongue fired out as two more spikes. They skewered the two doctors, freezing them as they were pulled in. The head devoured their frozen bodies.

It sighed.

"Bonus," It said. It shrank and contorted into a cloak-wearing, pristine white being with piercing cyan eyes and a featureless face. He raised his right hand, and the busted pipes froze over. "Now…where are you?" Pakkanen said to himself.

He sauntered down the hall, scanning the names in front of each room.

I heard each of the fighters was brought here. That means…Epona, Ryujin, and maybe…she…are here. This won't take long.

Pakkanen turned the corner. Ah, this is familiar. He walked down the hall and saw a door slide open ahead of him. Still here?

A large blue-furred hand grabbed the threshold, and Barong stepped out into the hall.

"Didn't learn your lesson from last time?" Barong asked.

"Didn't take you for the type to guard his kill."

"Ha. I'm not, but I am the type to know you'd be back after your defeat." Barong closed the door behind him and stepped back from the room, putting the entrance between him and Pakkanen. "You are determined, I'll give you that."

"I am not one to take a loss lying down. The last time this happened, I was denied a chance for retribution."

"So this is petty vengeance?" Barong shot a lazy leer. "Has time eroded your sense of dignity? Even we have such a thing, if rare."
"You mean like Oshumare? That depraved snake plays the long game. Dignity is his façade, and I refuse to debase myself."

"But he can at least fake it, and you did that plenty against Oya."

Pakkanen's fingers twitched. Then, they went limp. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "I don't care. Now stay where you are. There are too few of us left, and you dying for this runt is the last thing I want."

Barong bowed and stepped back some more. Pakkanen walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door.

"You're not going to stop me?"

"Oh, I don't need to, because he can."

"Who?"

"Hello, Pakkanen." A wispy voice said to his right. He turned, seeing Set at the end of the hall, walking towards them. "Acting like you always do?"

He stepped back from the door and turned to face him. "Well, if it isn't you? I thought you were too craven to stand in my presence without the others. Does Barong being here make you feel safe?"

"No. Not in the slightest."

"Then why come here?"

"I have to see it for myself. Your end." Set flipped all three switches under his chin.

"My end? If Barong could do it, he'd have already—"

"He does not have to waste the effort," Set interrupted in his true voice.

Pakkanen's eyes widened. His head tilted slightly to the right.

"You are not, and never have been, worth the effort."

"…You? You can't be."

"I am. It took me a long time to make this happen. I had to tolerate you terrorizing the Finns. Ukko's beside himself with fury that he cannot be here."

"But…this does not make sense."

"Why should it? You never bothered to be more than what you are, so of course, you cannot understand. Yet, there is something you understand."

Set raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

The sliding door opened, and Pakkanen turned to it.

Suddenly, his body twitched and convulsed, as if something gripped every part of his body in a vice.

"W…wha's go…goin?!" His limbs twisted and snapped. His head tilted ninety degrees and smashed into his right shoulder.

Set heard his footsteps first and saw a figure in sleek, dark-blue armor walk out of the medical room. A mask covered his face, but the trio could see the blue irises of his blackened eyes. His light-blue draconic feet and tail remained uncovered, and his horns jutted out of his helmet.

"R…RYŪ…..JIIIIIIN?!" Pakkanen struggled to yell, choking each syllable out.

"Thank you for notifying me of his earlier visit, you two. Knowing him, he would no doubt return." Set looked to his left, eyeing Epona's name on the opposite door. They never came out. They probably figured it out. Good job, Epona.

"Thiish…ishn…haphenin'!"

"Ah. You thought I meant him!" Barong said, snapping his fingers. "I meant Ryujin."

"Fuuuuuuugh!"

"Oya was right," Ryujin said. "Too old to learn. Too stubborn to try."

Cracks erupted from every inch of Pakkanen's body. Ryujin nodded up, and Pakkanen slowly floated up to the ceiling. His body continued to bend and snap, his limbs pressing against his body until he formed a twitching ball.

Set walked up to him, leering at him.

"You helped them take everything from me back then. Yet, I thought it would be too good for you if I did something. So instead, he will take everything from you."

"Y…ou…..deser-er-er-ved all-all of iiiiiiiit!" Pakkanen struggled to turn his head. "Baaaaaaroooong, doooon' le' theeeeeem!"

Baron shrugged his shoulders. "I have a deal to keep. Sorry."

No! Pakkanen screamed in his mind, his voice choking on his words. NO! NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO-NO! I AM BETTER THAN THIS! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! WHY?! I AM THE APEEEEEX! I MADE THE PRIMORDIAL GODS TREMBLE IN MY PRESENCE! YGGDRASIL BEGGED FOR MY AID! THIS CAN'T BE HOW I GO!

"Can I do it now?" Ryujin said.

Set nodded.

Ryujin raised his right hand and clenched it.

Steam erupted from every crack.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO—!" Pakkanen's body exploded, sending ice everywhere. Ryujin saw the light floating where his body used to be, and raked his fingers back. The light shook and twitched in place.

"Man, you're annoying." Ryujin raked the air forcefully, and the light flew to him. He raised his right bracer, and the light floated into the embedded green gem. He looked down and watched the light start flickering.

Then, it vanished.

Suddenly, the armor receded from his body, folding into itself and crawling down to Ryujin's arms. The armor shrank back into his bracers, revealing Ryujin's normal attire.

"He's gone, guys. For good. The armor wouldn't have vanished otherwise."

"Is that how it works?" Set asked.

"Yep." Ryujin turned to Barong. "Fucking cheater."

"I had no idea my current state made me an exception. I hope it is not that way with your mission."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever." Ryujin turned back to Set. "I hope you're happy."

"I am not. I had to hide it, or else he would not have come."

Ryujin pointed his thumb back at Barong. "So you set me up against this guy, knowing I couldn't fight him at my best? Asshole."

"I trusted you."

"And you set me up to fail. At least that ass gave me a better deal."

Set looked up at Barong.

"If I win, he gets the spot on the Roster," Baring said. "I know you don't want me there, so this is a win-win for us all."

"You what?"

"In exchange, I deal with a problem for him. Like I did for you." Ryujin walked past him. "Don't fuck this up any more than you already have," He whispered, then walked to the end of the hall and turned right, vanishing.

Set and Barong stood silently across from each other. The air between them grew heavy, and Barong's tail twitched every second or so.

"Are you trying to size me up?" Set asked.

"No."

"Then why stay?"

"Because I owe you an apology."

Set froze.

"I knew who you were well before this."

"Am I that obvious even you could figure it out?"

"Not sure. No one can hide who they truly are to me, but the others?" Barong shrugged. "Eh. I imagine you wanted me here to put me down for what I did during the last Apocalypse. I…was a different being back then, and I am well aware of the fallout caused by my unwanted appearance."

"An understatement. But yes, you are right. However, I am not sure what to make of you. You are not the same Barong from back then."

"Oh, I am. I just now know what loss is, and what lengths one goes to regain some semblance of peace. Ryujin is helping me there."

"On that. Why are you willing to give it to Ryujin?"

"Because I feel he needs it more than me, and I don't intend to live after this tournament. But I cannot pass until my greatest mistake is taken care of."

"…Rangda."

Barong nodded. "If anyone can do it, Ryujin can. I have held her at bay all this time, but…" He lowered his head. "…I am tired, and this body can't hold out much longer. I also feel…disgusting using it."

"I know the feeling."

"That's why it's a win-win for all three of us." He turned away. "I promise I won't cause you any more problems. Just please do not stop Ryujin."

Set sighed, then flipped all three switches. "I promise."

Barong nodded, then waved as he walked away.

This is getting out of hand, Brother. The wispy voice said.

I know, but maybe it is working out for the best. Sometimes, people's actions can benefit you, and you do not know it.

I hope so.

Set heard the sliding door to his left open. He turned, seeing Lugh standing in the threshold, Assal in hand.

"Has the problem been solved?" He asked, staring daggers at Set.

"Absolutely. Is Epona still asleep?"

"Is that jackass out there?" Said a dazed voice.

"One of them," Lugh answered.

"Tell 'em he can go—"

"I will." Lugh stepped into the hall and closed the door. "Sorry about that. She's coming to, and not in a good mood."

"Is she ever?"

Lugh shook his head.

"Then she will be fine." Set paused for a second. "You know who I really am?"

"My Uncle told me earlier. You'd think someone stabbed him in the heart. Aunt Macha and Brigid were nearly beside themselves."

Set sighed. "I ran into Brigid earlier."

"I hope it was not as bad as I thought it would be."

"It was not. I do not want to talk further about that, to be honest."

"I don't either, but I do want to say one thing."

"I will not stop you."

"You know my real parents are dead, right?"

"By the hands of their own kin. Both sides took someone from you."

"Yeah, but my aunt and uncle took me in. And they'll never know what that means to me. Words don't describe it. And so you must understand that what you did to them means you hurt people I cherish."

"We share that sentiment."

Lugh's brow furrowed. "No, we don't. You taught him. They raised me. That means one thing, and one thing only."

"You plan to drop out?"

"No." A soft, golden aura formed around Lugh's body. The air around them grew heavy and cold. "No. I will fight, but if you ever hurt them or any of my family again, I will kill you and everyone between you and them."

Set stood in place, keeping his eyes locked on Lugh's.

"If this goes as I planned, no one will ever dare aim their intent at Eire."

The aura and heavy air slowly vanished. Lugh opened the sliding door and stepped back through the threshold.

"That better include you."

"Yeah...better include you...," Epona said out of sight.

Lugh slid the door shut.

Set sighed, but smiled under the mask.

He is a lot like you, Nuada, but I see why you believe he will be better.

He dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out his tablet. He tapped the screen.

https://preview.redd.it/rqh4yatwsn3h1.png?width=836&format=png&auto=webp&s=157dece458f95c794d5f2ea3a17e4d42efe56560

I am there with you, Barong, but I have too much left to do.

He turned the screen off.

Until then.

Brazil

Province of Bahia

Early 1880s

 Under the hot sun, yet cooled by the breeze and the sound of its passage through the trees, Oya walked the paths and stairs of a massive complex. Home to several small buildings and courtyards interconnected by stone paths and staircases, and home to beautiful trees and foliage, this place, a Terreiro, was sacred ground to many. Oya could feel it in her soul, the spiritual power resting within it from years of labor and love. She had only heard of it in passing from those who spoke of it in Valhalla, but once she knew it existed, she could not stay away. And so, she dressed herself in the garb of the times and made her way.

Here, in this seemingly unimpressive place, she could see people walking the grounds. Some were travelling from building to building. Others sat and prayed amongst the foliage, and a few, younger than the rest, were busy practicing a familiar dance under the watchful eyes of a few elders. The children stomped, stepped, and swayed as they waved small toy axes. Their movements were raw and uncoordinated, but she could see the vigor and effort. She could not help but smile as she watched on, picturing him dancing and instructing the children, likely at the elders’ patience.

“Excuse me,” A gruff, hoarse voice spoke behind her. She turned and saw an older, dark-skinned man in a worn green shirt with cropped brown pants and sandals. His gray hair was cut short, but his wild beard stuck out in all directions. “You can’t watch them. They’re preparing for an upcoming ceremony.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She whispered. “I didn’t mean to, but it made me oddly…homesick.”

“Glad to hear it.” He smiled a little. “’Homesick’ is a wonderful compliment for that dance, but it doesn’t mean you can watch.”

“I understand. I’ll be on my way.”

He raised his hand. “Before you go, there’s something I need to know.”

“You send me away, but stop me to ask a question?” Oya asked, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

“Your youth fails to hide wit and decorum, but I’m stuck on that word. ‘Homesick.’ Most people your age wouldn’t even know it unless they grew up here. It’s a special dance we perform to honor Xango.”

So that’s what they call him here. She thought.

“And I know everyone it’s taught to and their families…and you are not from here.”

“Ah. Hmm. I’m not.”

“Alright then. So my question is…what does it remind you of?”

Her smile softened, and the older man saw a wistful look appear. “It reminds me…of simpler days. I had someone like him once.”

“Like who?”

“Xango. He was my Xango. My passionate storm of lightning and fire. Life was never dull with him, but he was a lot at times.” She closed her eyes, letting the breeze flow around her. “I lost him. I drove him away, and he passed before we reconciled.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Young love dying out so soon is just…”

“Thank you. I saw a future with him. Our childhood home could’ve been that for our children, but life changed in a way I wasn’t ready for, and I am still not.”

“Sounds like you need to pray to Iansã.”

Oya blinked a few times.

“Ah. You must be Yoruba, and not Candomblé. She’s Oya in Yoruba. I pray to her sometimes, especially during tumultuous times.”

“Do you?”

“My mother and grandmother practiced her dance, and they told me to pray to her when I suffered great change and uncertainty. Their dance, I was told, was the same one passed from the Oyo empire, across the seas in those…ships, and to here. It was our tether. Sadly, I never could grasp it, so it seems my grip on that tether has weakened, but I remember the feeling of watching it.”

“I know it.”

He huffed. “Do you now?”

“I do. I…I disrespected something we both cherish. Just words aren’t enough. If you’ll allow me, as an apology, I’d like to perform it for you.”

“If you can.”

“If I can.” Oya stepped a few meters away. She let the breeze flow around her and followed it. From her feet all the way back through her fingers and hair, she felt its rhythm carry her. Like it carried her before his departure, and like it carried her after. Her body glided along the breeze, spinning and stepping as her arms swam through the air. The older man sat, slightly amused by her bravado.

However, after only a minute, he could see them. His mother and grandmother were dancing to the same hidden melody and rhythm he could never hear, and dancing along with her. He could see them smiling despite the pain and uncertainty. He remembered those days and remembered their hands holding his. He could not stop the tears forming as he watched her dance.

Saudade. Within that land, it is known as a painful feeling of longing for something lost and unreachable. Something that the soul could never replace.

She knew, in her heart, how much that dance meant. In those movements, she felt it. Saudade, and remembered how lonely it felt to dance without him.

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

“Absurd…” Pakkanen whispered.

“Excuse me?” Oya asked.

“Are you deaf? I said absurd. I thought I finally found a worthy foe, and you’re still not sufficient.”

“Because I don’t roll over and play dead? Like you?”

Pakkanen clenched his claws. “Bite…your tongue…cur.” The crack on his helmet’s jaw grew.

“’Cur? I’m wounded now.”

“I graced you with a form I designed to put down your better. I humored your growth with the chance to exchange the right way, but you continue to throw it all away.” The crack grew again.

“I should feel so honored.”

“I thought you were worthy of it, but now I have to put an end to this farce.”

“Said that before.”

The helmet split in two, and the crack opened, revealing a twisted, toothy maw. “I WILL NOT BE MOCKED BY A GOD!” His eyes rolled up into his head, and he lunged at her.

Petty… She thought. She crouched down and rose to jump, but didn’t move. She looked down at her feet, seeing ice jut out and pin her feet. When did-

“I tolerated another disgrace, humoring this!” He roared, landing in front of Oya. Pakkanen’s hands flattened into edges. “Thinking I might finally find someone worthy of my full power, but I am constantly failed by YOU!” He swiped at Oya. She braced herself and parried the first blow, feeling electricity flow out of her hands.

“YOU! Do you comprehend this form?! I poured my heart and soul into becoming this, and for what?! Him! Not you!” He continued slashing away. Oya continued to block and parry each attack as pain fired up her arms from each attack. While her skin was strong enough to stop her blow, she could feel her bones giving way.

“I was promised my destined battle with him! I tolerated Winchester for him! All for the chance to take everything from him, again! But he’s dead, and now all I have to look forward to is YOU?! Another obnoxious wind user bemoaning a lost mate, and the spot in ‘Ragnarök?’”

Oya parried a blow and fired her left fist into his right shoulder, knocking his arm away and cutting a hole in his shoulder. She raised her right arm, blocking a blow aimed for her head, and struck his chin with a right hook, melting the lower half of his head. “RAGNARÖK, OYA! THE STUPID, ASININE CONTEST BETWEEN TWO DIFFERENT BREEDS OF CATTLE! AND YOU CAN’T JUST ‘ROLL OVER AND DIE’ AND LET ME GET THIS OVER WITH?!”

The blows continued to rain down. Sparks raced across her shins down to her feet.

Come on, melt already! Why is it still solid?!

Ullr’s Globe

Yoruba Box Seats

“He’s getting desperate?” Ogun asked.

“…I think he is,” Eshu said.

“His whole world is crumbling,” Oludumare said. “What else was going to happen? Those like him can’t stand reality hitting them square in the nose. It’s sad.”

“It very much is,” Oshumare said. “But it’s in those moments one can either grow or fall to pieces.”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

 “I will never give this to you!” Oya yelled, punching back amidst the assault. “You don’t deserve it! All you ever do is take! All you ever do is ruin lives to satisfy your fragile ego and your sad hunger!” Her electrified punches continued to strike at his body, but a crisis arose during the exchange. One Pakkanen had no clue that was occurring during his blind fury.

Oya’s lightning could not melt the ice anymore.

Why? Neither knew, but the edge Oya had was slipping away.

Her feet were pinned. Her wind could not cut him, and now, her lightning was near useless.

“You are no judge! No ruler! Just a petty monster! Ragnarök is our rite! Our mission! And I will put you down to make it happen!”

Her right fist smashed into his chest, sending him skidding back.

He looked down at the point of impact and stopped. His head snapped up to Oya, then back to his chest, then back to Oya. The crack on his helmet bent into a crooked, jagged smile.

“You don’t have your sword.”

Oya’s eyes widened.

“And your lightning is useless.”

“Oh no…,” Oya whispered.

“Play time’s OVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!”

Pakkanen raised his hands, and the ice below him rose, becoming another platform. He climbed several meters as all the snow and ice not touched by Oya’s sword flew up to him. It all smashed together high above him, molding and twisting together, growing by the second. Oya tried to pull her legs free as the growing ice mass obscured the sky. She punched the ice, but nothing. She frantically looked around.

Where’s the machete?! She thought. I need it!

High above her, Pakkanen’s smile widened as he watched her.

“Oh no! Where’d your machete go?! I couldn’t have moved it mid-fight when you and I were fighting, did I?!” He yelled.

Oya looked up at him, livid. Then shocked.

High above Pakkanen, staring down at her, was a wolf’s head the size of a mountain.

“I guess I did! You entered my world! The least I could do was keep you from relapsing!”

“You Bastard!” She yelled.

“Get angry! Be scared. It’s all you have left to keep you company! But let me give you something else!”

The wolf’s eyes opened wide. Cyan, like his.

“The truth of this world! That you should ACCEPT. YOUR. PLAAAAAACE!”

The mountainous wolf’s maw opened wide.

“JUMALANSYÖJÄ!”

It dropped from the vaulted, star-filled ceiling. The displaced air spread out and slammed against everything. The trees bent and broke. Windows rattled and cracked. The ice-covered ceiling cracked, releasing boulder-sized chunks of ice.

Oya’s ears flooded with the rumble of the oncoming beast as the displaced air bombarded her. The entire Yoruba Pantheon held its breath, each praying and begging in silence for her to do something. Anything.

Oya...inhaled deeply. She looked to her left, then looked to her right, seeing Jarl scramble away on her podium and activate its translucent barrier. She looked down at her scaly, clawed right hand. Her gaze softened as she envisioned a larger hand holding it, gripping it tight. She looked back up at the oncoming monster and sighed.

“Too old to learn. Too stubborn to try,” She said, raising her hands. “But I’m not.”

The wolf’s head grew closer.

Pakkanen watched on from a distance, keeping his sights locked on Oya.

Arrogant God! He thought. Struggle all you want!

The air between Oya and the attack continued assaulting her. Her ears popped as her braids tussled in the wind.

Sixty meters. The wolf’s open jaws blocked everything ahead and behind her from view.

Forty meters. She could see the details of its mouth and her reflection in its teeth.

Twenty meters. Its maw closed, tearing through soil and stone.

The monstrous head smashed the earth below.

Pakkanen watched on, feeling joy and satisfaction grow in his chest. His body shuddered, and let the compulsion run, bursting into raucous laughter. It was loud and obnoxious, and every God who heard it could feel the smug contempt seep into their pores.

All except three.

Set, who watched the fight through his tablet with Brigid by his side, felt disappointment.

Oshumare, who stood apart and, in his mind, above the other Yoruba, felt impatient.

The third…

The meteor, embedded in the ground below Pakkanen, exploded. A flood of green liquid erupted from its epicenter, flooding the field and forest.

He stood, petrified and wide-eyed as the world below him drowned. His mirth and vitriol vanished instantly.

Barely able to comprehend what just happened, he could only utter one word.

“What?”

He then heard it. That very sensation was thrown back in his face.

Laughter.

Deep. Joyful. Vitriolic.  

Standing far below him, shin deep in the glowing green, was Oya, beaming from ear to ear, cackling. Pakkanen, even from a distance, could see the manic glee emanating from her being, and felt another, dreaded feeling flood his being.

No…again? Noooo…I…I am…afraid?! No! Impossible! Memories flowed through his mind. A familiar warrior in matching armor, and a grizzled knight with swept-back chestnut hair in red armor, wielding a long scythe. She is NOTHING compared to them!

Her face...was rigid and flattened. Scales enveloped the sides of her head. The whites of her eyes turned yellow, and sharp, curved fangs jutted out of her mouth as she laughed.

She…she looks like… Pakkanen’s mind raced through the endless history of his kin. Serpents, panthers, bulls, dragons, all the shapes his kind took on in their formative years. Only one, however, held a firm place in his mind. One that no other creature in the creation could supplant. 

https://preview.redd.it/fuc25oanez2h1.png?width=2048&format=png&auto=webp&s=a0c26960fa75dfb414596f335212d5c892a20ecf

His stare hardened.

“You think looking like that duplicitous serpent will make a difference?!” He roared. “This mockery will cease!”

Oya stopped laughing and met his glare.

“Oshumare always got under your skin, didn’t he?” She said. “The moment he saw you were here…” She chuckled. “He knew this could happen. How sad.”

“SAD?!”

“I heard once you two were part of a trifecta. Sadly, not really, Tiamat fell. Must’ve been a nasty slap in the face to know someone at your level was turned into a weapon.” She extended her arms to her sides and raised them. The green liquid around her churned and swished. “I wonder if this is what I could do if I…you know. I have wind. I have lightning. I have this now…” She waved her hands up, and dozens of waterspouts shot into the air, slithering towards Pakkanen. “I wonder what I could do with you!”

“You conceited cur!” Pakkanen stuck his right hand out and activated his core. The spouts froze in mid-air. “You think a plebian like you could—” The ice instantly melted, and the spouts rushed his way. He jumped off the platform and summoned another from below his feet. This is not possible! Only Oshumare has this level of control! How is she fighting my will OUT of the universal solvent?! She couldn’t have this much skill…unless!

Ullr’s Globe

Yoruba Box Seats

All of the Yoruba sat in silence, frozen. The mixture of horror and sorrow among them filled the room. Oludumare sighed quietly as his expression softened with remorse. Ogun pursed his lips and clenched his fists before shooting another leer towards Oshumare, smiling as the fight continued below.

Smile all you want. He thought. You won’t be when it’s time.

Oshumare ran his clawed right hand against his cheek and lips. He turned to Ogun and huffed before focusing back on the fight. If you could only appreciate how beautiful she is now. He thought. Almost like looking in a mirror. Had I known this would happen, I’d have made you AND Shango look into Niflheim long ago. Just don’t play with your food for too long.

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

Another barrage of spouts flew his way. Pakkanen rocketed upwards, summoning several small floating platforms. He bounded from one to the other, barely landing on one foot before jumping to the next, as the spouts continued their pursuit.

As he jumped ahead, another dozen spouts shot up from the ground right below him. Attacks from below. Attacks from behind. All he could do was slowly descend before being swallowed by the liquid monster.

“I…am done…” He stretched out all four limbs and his tail. “WITH YOOOOOOOOOOOU!” All the liquid froze. The chill raced through every attack, freezing everything as it passed through the spouts and into the flooded forest below. In an instant, a sheet of ice enveloped the entire floor. “I AM BEYOND YOU, YOU DAMN MIMIC!” He landed on the frozen spouts. He clenched his hands. All the ice, every single centimeter, shattered into countless shards.

Jarl scrambled to activate her platform’s barrier. As it enveloped her, Pakkanen waved his arms in a circle. The shards followed his movements. He kept whirling his arms and began spinning.

“Is…Pakkanen…dancing?!” Jarl yelled. “Wait. Where’s Oya?!” She scanned the globe, trying to find her as the shards slowly formed a titanic, globe-spanning twister.

Within the twister’s center, on another platform, Pakkanen continued his violent dance. The millions of shards spun around him, shredding through everything in their path. Trees. Stones. Nothing remained.

Save for one thing. Far below, racing through the monstrous storm, dancing in tandem with the ice and wind all the while, was Oya. Each shard that soared near her melted away before freezing as it left. She jumped up and let the wind take her.

Pakkanen snapped his attention to her. He raised his left hand, and dozens of frozen spheres appeared around him. He pointed at her, and they flew.

Each one raced into the twister towards Oya.

You think this is my first time dealing with this?! Pakkanen thought. I fought Oshumare countless times to establish my dominance! It was I whom Yggdrasil begged to join their ranks and tear away at their foes! Not that damn snake!

Oya punched and kicked each sphere as they tried to smash into her. Each one exploded into liquid before freezing into more shards.

He couldn’t overpower my will! He couldn’t melt anything he didn’t have contact with! And I know exactly how to put you down!

Oya dipped down and fired out of the funnel in a whirl straight towards him.

Pakkanen froze and aimed his left hand at Oya. “Melt this.” He clenched his fist.

Every shard stopped. The twister vanished. Both were now stuck in the middle of a tower of shards.

And they were all pointed at Oya.

Pakkanen pointed his index finger, and every shard swarmed in on her. Oya’s eyes widened as the world darkened around her. She could feel the closest shards melt before hitting her. Then the next ones. Then a few solid ones mixed in. Then more. She could feel ice forming on her body as she continued to fly through the swarm of ice.

I have to reach him! She thought. I can’t stop now! I have to! Everything, even this, would mean nothing!

She pushed against the ice, trying to melt it as she soared. She could see him getting closer.   She could also see…she wasn’t reaching him. More and more ice formed between the two, and she could feel it enveloping her body faster than she could melt it.

Shango…

Jarl looked on in awe and horror at the sight. A massive sphere of ice. One so large it filled up half of the Globe’s vaulted ceiling. “….Oh man…,” She said.

Pakkanen stood on a frozen platform in front of it, his index finger still raised.

“Guess Oshumare never taught you the drawbacks to his powers,” He said. “He couldn’t melt anything he wasn’t touching. Once it was, he could control it, except when we fought. I can freeze things faster than he can melt them. And you are no better than him.” He sighed. “Suffocation must be an ironic way to go for a Wind Goddess. It suits you.”

Ullr’s Globe

Yoruba Box Seats 

“OYAAAA!” Eshu yelled, jumping out of his seat.

“Be quiet!” Oshumare yelled. “It’s getting good!”

Eshu turned to him, his face filled with fear and rage.

“Excuse me?!”

“I said it’s getting good.” He pointed back to the sphere.

Eshu turned back and froze.

“Watch.”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

Pakkanen stood silently, arm still raised.

It’s been about twenty seconds… He thought. Why is that girl not counting or something? Surely, she’d be doing something to save her? It’s what Gods do. Cover for each other and corral togeth—

“Eh-hmm,” A familiar voice said behind him.

His mind went blank. It was not possible.

He turned and saw the familiar, infuriating visage.

“How—”

“Girl’s got to have her secrets,” Oya whispered, her smooth voice coming out of her draconic maw. “But for you, I’ll share.”

She gently raised her right hand into a chop and gently glided her fingertips from Pakkanen’s left collarbone down to his waist. Green cracks formed where she traced along his body. Pakkanen’s eyes widened. “Afẹ́fẹ́ Oró.”

“No,” He said under his breath. He focused on it, and the cracks began closing.

“Nice little trick, right? Oshumare gave Shango and me a fang each. We added them to our weapons.” She traced her knife hand diagonally across Pakkanen’s chest. More green cracks grew and joined with the ones Pakkanen fought against.

The globe behind him cracked.

“It didn’t do a thing to my sword or his axes until I saw Niflheim, then, and only then, did it really do something.”

She gently caressed his body with her hands, summoning more cracks.

"It took a minute for the power to finally kick in, but you're the perfect person to test it on. I can now even melt the ice you're focusing on maintaining. Guess you're not used to working so hard."

“STOP IT, DAMN YOU!” He roared. He stumbled back a few steps as more cracks formed across his body, letting out steam.

“My red eyes turned silver, like Nu’s, when I saw Niflheim. I saw the void, and now I have a hole in me. A hole that can be filled when I arm myself with the essences of others. Their weapons.” She smirked as Pakkanen dropped to his knees, trembling as he fought to seal the cracks. “That machete has pieces of Shango’s axe and Oshumare’s fangs. A memento mori of my beloved. Any weapon I wield, I can wield the power of its master.” She smiled and pointed at her fangs. “Àmì Ibojì. Best part? I don’t physically have to hold it! It’s just got to be close enough…” She stepped forward.

“STOP THIS!” Pakkanen yelled. This isn’t right! It’s not supposed to be this way! She’s not this strong!

“for me…,” She continued.

I can’t die! It’s not possible! His arm plopped out of the socket.

“To be reminded of what I lost, and what I. MUST. TAKE.”

Pakkanen stared up at her in horror, his body melting beneath her gaze.

“And I will take from you what you hold dear, Pakkanen.”

He whimpered.

“You were never a predator with me. Nor prey. You were just in the way.”

She twisted and fired a right punch straight at Pakkanen’s melting head. His eyes went dark as Oya’s fist smashed through his head. His body melted and spread across the platform as the frozen sphere exploded into more green liquid. The platform Oya stood on dropped out of the sky. Oya whipped her hand, summoning another spout below the platform, stopping its fall.

She looked up, eyeing a small yellow light floating and flickering high above her, identical to the ceiling’s fake stars. It reached the ceiling and vanished.

Coward. Run all you want. I’ll come find you when I’m done here. She turned towards the Yoruba Box. As I said, you were just in the way.

Slowly, Jarl floated over to her and scanned the area.

“Uuuuuh…I guess it’s over?” She asked.

Oya looked up at her and smiled.

Sir…I think we’re in trouble. “Then it’s over! Everyone! The last match of Round One has officially ended! The winner of Round One Match Four is….OOOOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAA!”

Pakkanen VS Oya

Victor: Oya

Match Length: 20 minutes 12 seconds

Deciding Move: Afẹ́fẹ́ Oró

Long Ago

Deep within a vast mountain range, far from any semblance of life, something barreled through the sky. It smashed through a mountain’s peak, decimating it before crashing into the ground below, forming a crater.

Among the dust and debris, a being in silver armor slowly rose, illuminated by the glowing white pole in his right and the blue sphere in his left. His cyan eyes peered out of his canid-shaped helmet towards the mountain he destroyed, and his ears heard the oncoming thunder.

Dammit, this is not the time for this! He thought. I have to get back to the others! Three pairs of translucent white wings sprouted from his back. He crouched down and rocketed upwards. They cannot activate Gleipnir now! Without the Cube—

As he neared the peaks, a large creature burst out from the thunder’s direction. It raised its massive white claw and swatted the armored warrior back down to the ground. He landed back in the center of the crater as the snow-white gargantuan creature crashed down, gouging out the earth beneath it.

The warrior rose and stared up at the creature, dwarfed by it.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” The creature yelled, its voice echoing across the mountains. “We’re just getting started, Metatron!”

“I have better things to do than fight an attack animal!” Metatron roared back as the weapons’ glow intensified.

“’Attack Animal?’ Ignorance must be bliss if you fail to recognize me!”

“I know Odin’s tools when I see one, Pakkanen!”

Pakkanen swung his curved, lupine foot through the ground, tearing it away. Metatron raised Ascalon and blocked the attack, the impact echoing around them.

“And I know you are not. Worth. The. EFFOOOOOORT!” Ascalon radiated light, and Metatron twisted it, slashing upwards.

A massive cut raced through Pakkanen’s body, splitting him in two. Pakkanen’s cyan eyes widened.

When the hell could he do this?! Odin didn’t say he could put out this much pow—

Metatron tossed Ascalon, and it started spinning. It blitzed through the air, whirring through Pakkanen’s body before slamming back into his hand.

“You picked…the wrong game, Pakkanen.”

Chunks of Pakkanen’s frigid body slid and dropped like a meteor shower, pulverizing the valley around Metatron.

Who…who is this monster?! Pakkanen thought, hiding amongst the ice.

“I would put you down here, but I have more—”

Something heavy and dark washed over the pair, flooding the valley. Metatron’s eyes widened as dread seeped into every pore of his body.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He roared, his voice going hoarse. He blasted upwards and flew away.

Alone, amongst the remains of his once monstrous, mountainous form, Pakkanen’s essence rested in the ice, dumbstruck.

I…live? He thought. This…this is wrong! I am not the one looked down on! I am the one who stands above EVERYTHING!

The dark energy enveloped him.

You bastard! How dare you have the gall to act all high and mighty! You’re no better than Odin! I…will never forgive you…

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

Pakkanen stepped off the platform, dropping down to the snow-covered ground. He landed with a heavy thud and rose to face Oya. Slowly, he raised his left hand and beckoned her.

Oya placed her machete by her left hip and lowered her stance.

“Futsu-ryū Ichi no Kata…”

“Really?” Pakkanen said.

“Soyokaze!”

Oya appeared several meters behind him.

Pakkanen looked down at his chest, then back to Oya. He turned to face her, tilted his head…then dusted off his chest.

Oya’s eyes widened. What!? She thought.

“Doesn’t take much to see that the sword is dangerous. Too bad you aren’t.”

He sprinted towards her. She swung as he got in range, watching the blade glide through his body.

But no cracks appeared.

Oya silently gasped before Pakkanen kneed her in the stomach. She felt something pointed stab at her stomach. She stumbled back, and Pakkanen jumped towards her, lifting his left leg high. His foot flattened to an edge, and he kicked down. She raised the machete to block. It glided through his leg, and his foot slashed against the right half of her torso.

“Oya’s doing everything to deal a fatal blow, everyone!” Jarl yelled. “But every cut is…doing nothing now?!” What’s going on?!”

Pakkanen lifted himself onto his left foot and spear-kicked Oya with another blade-shaped foot, sending her reeling back.

Three now. Pakkanen thought, leering at Oya. Three blows that should kill, but you… He narrowed his eyes, catching a glimpse of her skin where he tore through her robes. …you’re a tough one.

Ullr’s Globe

Yoruba Box Seats

 

“How?” Ogun whispered. “How…is he fine?”

“Because of his pride,” Oshumare said, still leaning on the wall. “That body is the culmination of an ancient, wounded pride that refuses to lose ever again.”

“Not exactly answering the question,” Eshu said.

“But it’s the answer you get.”

Obtuse Ass. Eshu thought.

Oshumare breathed deeply, watching the two far below continue their exchange. I warned Odin against sending you to kill Metatron. He thought. Even after all this time, you’re still that bent out of shape? Oshumare shook his head. Pathetic.

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

“Ìjì Yíyí!” Oya yelled, tossing the machete into a spin, then crouched and blasted forward behind it. It spun faster and faster, forming a wheel of air as it soared. Oya raced behind it, picking up speed as she ran.

Drafting behind your own weapon? Smart. Pakkanen thought.

Pakkanen stood still, letting the rolling gale wash over him. It passed as if a gentle breeze.             Oya did not.

She skidded to a halt and placed her right palm on his chest. “ÌJÌ ÌBÚGBÀÙ!”

A massive surge of air erupted from her palm, forming into a horizontal cyclone.

Pakkanen stood unmoved.

The wind intensified, and Pakkanen shook his head.

Maybe I overestimated her. His left hand pierced through the squall and grasped her wrist. Ice formed from his palm over her wrist and started crawling over her forearm. I did.

Something smacked her palm, and the gale stopped. Pakkanen looked down and saw the machete’s handle in her right hand. She dropped it, snatched it, and swung it at Pakkanen’s hand. He released his grip, and the blade smashed into the ice covering Oya’s arm.

Disappointing. He fired his left fist into Oya’s throat. I didn’t even make this form for you. She stood her ground and gritted her teeth. She swung again, but the blade did nothing as it sailed through. I wanted so BADLY to get back at him. He tapped his foot on the ground, and ice shot up, ensnaring Oya’s feet. Pakkanen’s body started heaving.

I don’t get it! Oya thought. Why’s it not working? I don’t even feel anything when I—

A fist smashed into Oya’s nose.

I can’t…block…anything. She thought, her mind slowly going silent. But, I can… She stabbed the machete into the ground. Pakkanen stopped and jumped back as a geyser of green liquid erupted from where she stabbed the ground. Gallon upon gallon gushed out, covering the ground several meters around Oya, melting the ice that bound her.

Pakkanen landed just outside the flood, leering. Oya, covered in bruises and dented armor under shredded robes, returned it.

“Drop the sword,” Pakkanen said.

Oya squinted.

“We are better than swords. Those are tools of Gods and Humans. Our tools…” His clawed hands twitched and curled. “Are these.”

She sighed. “You want to fight like an animal?” She retorted, releasing her grip and leaving her machete embedded.

Pakkanen squinted his eyes. Slowly, he turned to his right and started walking around the edges of the pool. “Fighting like a God got Shango riddled with arrows. I promised I’d help you join him. Fight like a God, and I can be good to my word.” 

Oya’s lips peeled back into a snarl, revealing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Her feet swelled up and tore through her sandals. Her painted toenails popped off as curved claws grew from her toes. Her feet shrank as a membrane grew between her toes, and her knees bent back.

“You keep his name out of your disgusting mouth,” Oya hissed, watching him predate.

“The truth hurts, and a God cannot stand on my level. Only two beings ever did, and both never suffered the misfortune of being a ‘God.’”

“Enough, already. What is your issue with us?”

“My ‘issue?’ Calling it that proves me right.” Pakkanen continued his walk. “What’s the difference between a God and a Human? Other than that ‘special’ little power the Primordial Gods gave you? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“We are the maintainers and protectors of Creation.”

Pakkanen…snorted. “No, you’re not. You’re all nothing more than incompetent, empowered brats. Most of you aren’t worth the meat that wraps your bones. Yet, you act like you made all this. You’re not maintainers. You can’t protect anything. You’re inadequate inheritors of a cosmos that you can barely keep functioning because of your petty squabbles. What your predecessors saw in you is beyond me. Even more damning, you made Humans.”

“And you’re any better?”

“I never tried to be anything more than I am. I am a predator. A dominator. A devourer. I don’t need cities. I don’t need rules. I don’t need anything other than the hunt and the kill.”

Oya clicked her tongue. “That’s it? That’s pathetic. You want to be the same thing without ever changing. That’s such bullshit.”

Pakkanen stopped.

“Everything changes. Creation is constantly changing. We can either ride along with it or be left behind. You think you can get away with acting like the past was right because it was where you were at your greatest? You’re not an animal. You’re a coward. Only cowards look to the future and try to stop it.”

He turned toward her.

“Did I touch a nerve, you old dog?” She stepped forward, her clawed feet sending ripples through the shallow puddle. “I guess it must be tough watching the world leave you behind. Tell you what?” She stopped a few meters from him. “I’ll humor you.” She tilted her head, cracking her neck. Scaly ridges started forming around her eyes. “I’ll debase myself and fight at your level.”

“If you can’t fight without thinking, you’ll never be at my level.”

Ullr’s Globe

Game Master Box Seats

 

“She’s fighting him without her machete?!” Ukko said. “She might as well sign her death warrant!”

“Sir, may I?” Hermes asked.

“Just speak.”

“Whatever Pakkanen’s transformation did, it’s made that weapon nearly useless. I haven’t seen such an ability in a long time.”

“Yes, and Oya’s going to solve this the best way possible,” Zeus said, smiling as his muscles convulsed under his robes. “Sometimes, it takes a monster to beat a monster.”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

Pakkanen and Oya stared each other down, frozen in place. Their minds went blank as they took in the moment, waiting for who would move first. Jarl floated quietly above, feeling the pressure of two monsters sizing each other up. Her mind went wild, envisioning a massive snow-white wolf poised to attack, opposite a massive green serpent adorned with massive curved horns.

Sir, I don’t know how you do this! Jarl thought. I thought the fights earlier were stressful. I feel like they’ll eat me if I do anything!

Below her, Pakkanen’s mind ran. An old emotion slowly awoke in him. One lost to time and its fog. The feel of waking up to the primordial waters surrounding him in its chaotic, yet familiar, embrace. The feel of the wind rushing past him as he pursued worthwhile prey. The sounds of flesh ripping and bones breaking. Only one word could describe it. One word that, if Pakkanen could comprehend its meaning, would encapsulate this moment.

Joy.

This joy, at finally feeling the past, made his body go lax. His arms, hanging limp by his sides, looked lifeless.      Finally…I can quit thinking…and just…be… Two white blurs swung from both sides towards Oya’s neck. She ducked under both before rising, swiping her right clawed hand up Pakkanen’s body. Her nails peeled off as her fingers ran through his body, then she whipped her left down immediately after.

Bursts of wind exploded out of Pakkanen’s back, but he remained in one piece. His arms snapped back, hooking into Oya’s ribs, lifting her. He stepped back and pulled his arms, spinning her in mid-air. Pakkanen bent over and thrust his crown of horns towards her back. Oya’s arms reached back, her elbows and shoulders popping out of place, and snatched two of his horns mid-spin. She landed on the ground, continuing her spin, and tossed Pakkanen over her head and slammed him to the ground. She started spinning, rising to the balls of her feet, twirling Pakkanen around. The wind picked up, spinning her faster and faster. She slammed him again. Then, dragged him along the ground before slamming him back down, head-first. She threw him overhead, rolled into a hand-stand, and pushed off the ground, slamming both feet into Pakkanen’s chest. Another burst of air swept through Pakkanen’s body as the blow sent him flying.

Oya landed in a crouch, watching Pakkanen crash to the ground over a hundred meters away near the rim of the forest. Lightning crackled around her feet. The ground exploded under her feet as she raced like a bolt, zig-zagging across the field.

Pakkanen snapped to his feet and froze. Oya flashed to his left. Without looking, Pakkanen’s left claw swiped up and smashed into her chin. He spun to his left and kicked her away. He dropped onto his right foot and jumped. As he soared, his right arm swelled in size. He fired it at Oya. She rolled to the right, and the fist pierced the ground. Oya rolled back to the left, raised into a handstand, and spun, slamming her right leg into the back of Pakkanen’s head. Her toes touched the ground, and she spun back, smashing her heel into his masked snout. Pakkanen’s head rocked back, and Oya spun her feet in an arch. Her feet smashed to the ground, sparks flying across her clawed feet and up her body. She stomped forward and dropped her sparkling hammer fist down on Pakkanen’s chest. He shot to the ground and bounced off. He spun in the air and flung his left claw. Large spears of ice sprouted from the air and flew at Oya. The first smashed into Oya, burying her, and bounced off into the woods. She immediately exploded out of the ground before the other two landed, and dropped down onto the spear. Her toes dug into the ice as she dropped into a crouch, her arms drooping. From her bleeding fingers, sharp claws grew and curved. Around her waist, her robes shifted right and left as a reptilian tail slowly jutted out.

Pakkanen landed and looked back at her. His head tilted to the side. He dropped down on all fours, his tail whipping through the air.

You’re fun! He thought. I want more!

Ullr’s Globe

Yoruba Box Seats

 I sense it. Oshumare thought. You always hated thinking. It felt foreign to you, that pain of giving order to thought, even if you need it for power. Our minds are not made for it, and even I suffer the discomfort. But you… He watched the pair race towards each other. Are so lucky. You get to live like the old days again, and help me build my ultimate warrior. He looked over towards the rest of his Pantheon and scowled. You will all pay for what you did to Shango.

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

 Lightning sparked across the snow as Oya ran. Pakkanen swung his arms down, hammering the ground. Dozens of jagged spikes erupted out of the ground between them, heading towards the oncoming storm. Oya weaved left, dodging one, and jumped into the fray. She dug her claws into the first spike and started swinging from one to the next, pulling herself through the spikes.

Pakkanen threw his arms up, and the spikes rocketed out of the ground, pulling Oya with them.

Moving quickly, she released her grip and dropped down. Her feet smashed the ground below, and the rumble of thunder echoed across the globe. Pakkanen felt his body clench up, and he turned his claws down, throwing back to the ground. The spikes flipped over and shot straight down.

Oya just ran. Ran as if the world was not trying to destroy her. As if the cold could not catch her. The audience watched on as if the inevitable would come, and they understood what was happening. How wrong they were. Oya pushed off the ground, enveloped in bolts of lightning racing all over her body. As she ran, the spikes rocketed towards her. She paid no mind to them, only focusing on what was ahead.

Pakkanen stood there, focusing all his might on crushing his fellow apex. Each dodged missile made his non-existent heart race faster and faster. He could feel her oncoming presence seeking his demise. All he could do was continue to try to put her down.

Would his unceasing assault find its target? Would she escape this no-man’s land?

She was barely three meters away from Pakkanen when the last spike dropped. It pierced the ground between them, and Oya vanished from Pakkanen’s sight. What didn’t was the white-hot energy surrounding her as she spear-kicked the spike, shattering it. Debris pelted Pakkanen’s body, then Oya appeared before him. She balled her right into a fist full of power and fired it into Pakkanen’s chest. Lightning flashed through his body and out of his back, sending him flying with a brand new giant hole in his torso.

Pakkanen soared, his eyes wide with shock and his body stiff as a board.

Oya stood completely still, her fist still stretched out and pulsing with power.

The Yoruba Pantheon roared to life, cheering her on. Then, their cheers fell silent.

Pakkanen spun in the air as a platform of ice formed in mid-air. He landed cleanly, and the hole vanished. Another platform appeared behind him as the one he stood on tipped forward. One slammed into the other, firing Pakkanen like a bullet back towards his foe.

Got you. Oya thought. She extended both arms out in front. Pakkanen ballooned into a massive javelin, barreling down on her. I played your game…and now…

The tip of the javelin touched the tips of her fingers, and lightning fired through it, branching in all directions, akin to a tree. Every centimeter of the javelin melted and evaporated instantly as the bolt passed through from end to end. One branch found home and pierced straight through Pakkanen’s body, melting everything below his shoulders.

I win.

The entire audience erupted with cheers as Pakkanen fell, shattering.

Oya stood up and took her stance. Dozens of meters away, a small light flew out of the snow. A gale spun to life, picking up pieces of ice, smashing them into each other, expanding and sculpting into a familiar, unpleasant form.

“Just won’t stay dead, will you?” Oya said. Pain welled up on her face, as if something was pushing from inside her skull.

“You…fought me like a God…”

“Oh no, I didn’t.” She felt something pushing against her nose. “I fought you like you. Just started using lightning instead of wind when I figured you out.”

“Figured…me out?”

“Yeah…must be nice having a body like that. You’re just tiny pieces of ice held so close together that you only look solid. That’s why the machete and wind did jack to you. You can move it around and hold it in place…just you can’t stop it from melting.”

Pakkanen leered at her.

“And you can’t do it on instinct, can you?”

His eyes widened.

“You had to think… as a God does, while I can fight better than you on instinct alone.” Oya could feel her bones cracking and mending under her skin. “Aaaah…I get it now. This wasn’t about dominance at all!”

The mouth of Pakkanen’s helmet started cracking.

“You wanted a fun challenge, didn’t you? Something to make you feel like the old you!” Lightning and wind erupted around her. “Well, I am not a fun challenge, an animal, predator, or prey. I am Oya, you petty old dog, and I am going to put you down.”

Ullr’s Globe

Outer Passage

 Sitting on a bench far from the Box Seats, Set watched the fight continue on his tablet. Exhaustion floated over him, and his eyes began glazing over.

I thought better of you, Oya. He thought. You think this is what Shango would want? He shook his head. No, you know that, but it does not stop you.

Feels uncomfortably familiar, huh? The wispy voice asked.

Set leaned back against the wall.

It’s easy to see our own faults in other people and try to help them.

Am I that obvious? Set asked.

Yes.

Set sighed. His ears suddenly perked up to the sound of footsteps.  The cadence and rhythm caused him to sit up and look their way. Walking down the hall was an older Goddess in a fur-lined green dress. Set recalled her vibrant black storm cloud of hair, but it now showed a few hints of gray, yet her eyes were still the same bright blue from her youth. A few wrinkles found home on the edges of her eyes and mouth, but youthful energy could still be felt in her bearing and step.

Set rose quickly and straightened his coat, then flicked the three switches under his chin.

What’re you doing? The voice asked.

“Evening, Brigid,” He said. “I assume you are here to check on Epona?”

“Oh no,” She answered, her voice tugging at Set. “Lugh’s already keeping watch, and the Eschatons are keeping her company.”

“Keeping her company? That…is unexpected.”

“What can I say? Horses love her.”

“They are not horses, but I see your point.”

She smiled. “No, I came with Macha. She’s fretting over Nuada back at Valhalla Arena, and you know how those two get when they’re together.”

“I cannot tell if they are bickering or flirting.”

“They’re the same thing with them.”

Set stifled a laugh. “Fair.”

“But I’d be lying…if I said I didn’t come to see you.”

Set froze.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Sir? The wispy voice asked.

“Damn…,” Set whispered. He reached for his chin and flipped the three switches back. “Did Nuada tell you?” He asked in his true voice.

“No, he told Macha, who told me. No secrets between us girls, and you know Nuada would never lie to Macha. I wish he would when she’s having bad days, though…”

Set looked away.

“You know how much you hurt him, don’t you? After everything the two of you have been through?”

“I was just a teacher.”

“Liar. You were his mentor, and the only person he trusted outside Eire, and you knew it.”

Set breathed deeply.

“You know what happened after you left? What it did to everyone back home?”

“I do. It is why I reached out to Nuada and asked him and Lugh to join Ragnarök.”

“That does not make up for what you did, especially what you did to your own kids.”

Set locked his eyes on hers. “Do you think me ignorant of the fallout?!” He yelled.

Brigid flinched.

Set shuddered and clenched his fists, but brought his breathing back to a slow rhythm and relaxed soon after. “I am…sorry. I should not have yelled, especially after what Bres did.”

“No…I…shouldn’t have hit you while you were low.”

“Do not apologize. I deserve it.”

Brigid’s eyes softened.

“This day weighs on me, Brigid, and I think it may be because a lot is happening. A lot I have planned for and a lot more that has not happened yet.”

“Like what?”

“Despite my seeming absence, I have abandoned my duties. I know Balor still plans to invade, and he thinks Lugh, Epona, and Nuada are too weak to protect Eire. This is their chance to prove Eire’s not his to take nor a place his puppets can rule. I also owe an effort to deal with Odin, Ra, and other problems.”

“Like Pakkanen and Barong?”

Set nodded.

“You haven’t given up at all, have you?”

“The ‘Human Extermination Army’ was the perfect cover. We built a monstrous force to take down the corruption in Valhalla and Midgard—”

“And we were a part of that, but you left us.”

“…I did.”

“Nuada stood with you. We stood with you, but you left without us, and the moment we discovered it was when we thought you died.”

Set turned and sat back on the bench.

“Brigid, to explain why would just make things worse.”

She walked over to the bench and sat down next to Set.

“You’ve told me everything else, even things your kids didn’t know. Even if you think it will, that’s my decision, and I have time.”

Morning, everyone. I recently got my AYN Thor and have been busy setting it up to play my Roms. However, I think I hit a snag. I have the games on the system, but none of my .sav files are recognized by it. Is there something I am doing wrong, like the file location?

For context, the .sav files were originally on a homebrewed 3DS, and I was able to pull them up and use them on my laptop.

Welcome to the Akashic Record, the Archive for all Record of Ragnarök fan stories. Take your time, find a story that catches your eye, and dive into the works of your fellow fans.

 Important Notes:

1)     Many of these stories are ongoing, and each writer writes at their own pace. Please understand that.

2)     The Canon of each story is unique, with some being sequels, prequels, retellings, or even original stories built from the ground up. However, Humanity is still fighting for its survival against a Vindictive Heaven, no matter the story.

3)     If you want to try your hand, you’re more than welcome to join and add your works here. All that’s asked is that you build a collection page and send the link. This can be anywhere on Fanfiction.net, Wattpad, AO3, or even here.

4)     Enjoy.

The list is updated as of April 30th, 2026.

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Scaleless Sword by u/Cantthinkagoodnam2

Summary: A loophole in divine law drags humanity into Ragnarök. Alongside their reluctant champion, the Titaness of Justice, Themis, they must fight back and defeat Heaven's mightiest…or else.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: One

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarök: Ouroboros by u/UnknownSR28

Summary: A millennium after humanity defied the gods, a second Ragnarok is forced into existence, now fueled by wounded pride and unfinished business. Led by a hardened Göll, humanity returns with new champions and a dangerous edge, ready to prove their last victory was no fluke.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Four

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarök: Rising Sun by u/Key-Competition-7489

Summary: Years after the events of the first Ragnarok Showdown, humanity has shown considerable improvement in Heaven and on Earth. However, the vengeful Sun God Ra has still chosen to begin a second Ragnarok in order to reclaim Heaven's pride. With Brunhilde gone, Göll is now alone in her efforts to save mankind. Or at least, until a certain Titan and girl come offering their help.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Six

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarök: Divine Intervention by u/Weird_is_Ok_249

Summary: After humanity earns its second chance, a single dissenting god overturns the verdict, forcing a new Ragnarok under harsher rules. With limited allies and no Valkyrie support, Goll must rebuild humanity’s defense from scratch, or watch everything her sister fought for be erased.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Eleven

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarök: Elegy of Fire by u/rdrm3754

Summary: When the gods unanimously vote to erase humanity, the exiled Titan Prometheus defies them by invoking Ragnarok and forcing a final trial by combat. Armed with a dangerous secret and a personal vendetta, he wagers everything on proving that humanity is more than the gods believe.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Three

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Calamity by u/ShakyaStrawberry15

Summary: With humanity’s extinction calmly decided by the gods, Brünhilde disrupts the verdict by invoking Ragnarok as a final appeal. Now, in a battle framed as judgment and rebellion, Humanity must fight to prove its strength and right to exist.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: One

Status: Hiatus

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Freya's Desire by u/ShakyaStrawberry15

Summary: As Ragnarok looms, the gods dismiss humanity as no real threat, but not all of them are convinced. With new, untested forms of Volundr and champions chosen to defy expectations, Brunhilde leads a war that may hinge less on power and more on how Humanity's unsung and peculiar 'strengths.'

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Five

Status: Hiatus

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Record of Ragnarok: Pandora by u/Craftex101

Summary: Another 1000 years have passed, and humanity must once more contend with the gods' wrath! However, this time, rather than the mighty Valkyries, what stands between humanity and the divine is no hero. But a young girl, Pandora. Will she be enough to save humanity!? Or will the might of the gods be too much for her and her chosen Einherjar!?

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Eleven

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarok Fimbulwinter by u/The_Highway_Star

Summary:  As humanity faces near-total annihilation, the Valkyries gamble everything on Ragnarök. To stand against Gods and Monsters ranging from Lords of the Depths to Queens of the Skies, Brünhilde and the Valkyries must assemble a Roster of Champions capable of, hopefully, withstanding Divine Might.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Two

Status: Ongoing

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Record of Ragnarok: Redirected by u/ocelot1216

Summary: An alternate telling of Record of Ragnarök. The Egyptian God Set requests and gains control of Ragnarök with Zeus' approval. Seeking total victory through skill and mastery rather than strength, he builds a new roster and arranges the fights into contests with special rules. Brunhilde retaliates with a new roster, intending to beat Set at his own game.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Twelve

Status: Ongoing

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RoR Redirected - God's Alternate Apocalypse by u/ocelot1216

Summary: The Thirteenth Spot on Set's Roster must be filled. One spot and Eight Gods, known as the Instructors, shall stake their claim to it in the Second Apocalypse. Who will win? What will be discovered?

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Round One Match Four

Status: Ongoing

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Fate Written In The Stars by u/LaniaGren17

Summary: When the primordial Nyx leads the gods to condemn humanity, an irreverent Orion refuses to accept their verdict and invokes Ragnarok as a final trial. Armed with stolen power from the constellations and a roster built on redemption, humanity’s survival hinges on whether even its greatest sins can fight back against the divine.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Six

Status: Ongoing

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FWitS: A Chance To Change Fate by u/LaniaGren17

Summary: In the wake of Ragnarok’s declaration, the gods turn on each other in a brutal tournament to claim the final slot and the coveted power to rewrite fate itself. As Artemis enters the fray for a chance to save someone she refuses to lose, the Apocalypse becomes a proving ground where only the strongest survive.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Round One Match One

Status: Ongoing

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Re:Cord of Ragnarok by u/LaniaGren17, u/MUI-Tojo, u/N25_Amia, & many more

Summary: When humanity’s fate is sealed by the gods, the Demon King Solomon invokes Ragnarok and assembles an unlikely roster of flawed, unpredictable champions. By forging dangerous pacts between humans and demons, he turns the battlefield into a clash where cunning and desperation may matter more than divine power.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Four

Status: Ongoing

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Knights of the Divine Table by u/The_Dude and u/LaniaGren17

Summary: When the gods unanimously decree humanity’s end, the king of men, King Arthur, storms Heaven itself to invoke Ragnarok as a final act of defiance. Gathering a new Round Table of champions, he wagers mankind’s future on a war that will test whether human will can stand against divine judgment.

Link: Chapter List (Prologue)

Current Round: One

Status: Ongoing

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Scripts of Finality by u/Life_Fold_3869

Summary: The rogue demigod Orion forces Ragnarok against an apathetic Heaven, turning extinction into a chance for survival. By granting humans divine weapons drawn from the constellations, he sets the stage for a war where mankind may finally stand on equal footing with the gods.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Two

Status: Ongoing

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BLESSED ANNIHILATION by u/fury1012000

Summary: The Gods have doomed humanity yet again, but Zeus decides that in order for their pride to be restored, the Gods must win the Ragnarok Tournament this year, but Brunhilde has a special trick up her sleeve, thirteen specially chosen fighters who were given the power of the Heavens themselves.

Link: Chapter List

Current Round: Seven

Status: Ongoing

Valhalla Arena

Medical Wing

Nuada’s Room

High above Ullr’s Globe, and still stuck in his healing pod, Nuada watched the battle unfold on the monitor. Oya dashed across the screen, racing towards the three constructs.

When did this turn from a tournament into a horror story? He thought, floating. And I thought Balor and Bres were disgusting…

A knock came at the door.

“Decent, you old goat?” A woman’s voice said from the other side.

“No, but when has that stopped you?” He said through the pod’s speaker.

The door swung open, and an older Goddess in leather and green armor walked in. She wore her fading blonde hair in a ponytail, and her sharp green eyes scanned Nuada’s burnt, dilapidated state. “Well, aren’t you just in a pitiful state?” Macha said.

“Looking to kick me while I’m down?”

She walked over to the pod and shot him a coy look.

“You’re more handsome when you’re charred.”

Nuada stared lazily at her.

She walked over to the other side of the pod and rested her forehead and left hand on the glass surface. “You had me worried for a second…”

Nuada gently floated over to her and put his right hand on the pod’s interior and touched his forehead opposite hers.

“And that’s one second too many…sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.” She leaned back. “Where’s Lugh?”

“With Epona. Did Brigid come with you?”

She nodded. “She’s heading over to Epona’s room. Poor thing worried herself to near collapse after seeing her match.”

“She’s always had a soft spot for Epona.”

“Unlike you.”

“Yep, but Lugh likes her, and that matters more.” He turned his attention to the monitor. “By All, Macha. When did this start getting complicated again?”

“When Set came to Tir Na Nog and asked you to fight in Ragnarök. Why’d you take him up on it?”

“…It was a chance to fix things after Winchester. His words.”

“And you believed him?”

“Not then, but after today, I hate saying it, but I do. Seeing Oya down there, fighting for her life…”

“She was probably told the same thing.” Macha pulled a chair from the corner next to Nuada’s pod and sat down. “Feels like we failed her.”

“Maybe we did, but that’s for her to decide.”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

“Huang, keep her busy!” Quetzalcoatl yelled. He jumped up, pulling his limbs and tail tight against his body. He shot them all straight down, stabbing the earth. He pulled himself down and leaned forward. “Itzac Tletzāhuīlōyān!”

“On it!” Huang rocketed ahead as Shango circled to the outside. It seems he can’t generate heat like the real one can, and I am stuck with just my dao. Damn you, Pakkanen. Couldn’t even bother with proper duplicates? Guess we have to make do!

Oya continued playing the exchanges in her mind as she closed in on the trio.

They’re not changing their tactics…can they? Why isn’t Huang using other weapons? The Gùn or Qiāng would work better for range!

Huang swung both swords.

Oya swatted the flats of both swords, parrying them. Need to feel for Quetz’s attacks from and Shango from above. She thought.

Huang breathed deeply. Shui to Mu. Huang continued to swing. To Huo-Tu-Jin! A near dozen copies of each arm appeared mid swing. Tiān Yǔ Lóng Fú!

Oya fired her hands towards the blades, swatting away as many as she could.

Yet, it was not enough. More and more slashes came. She started missing, and the cold blades cut through her clothes. The pair could hear each blow clink and clang against her armor under her robes, but Oya could feel a few of the slashes tearing through her skin.

I…can’t…keep up… Her eyes widened, and she jumped back as a pair of hands shot out of the ground. The moment she landed, she jumped again. A feathery tail shot out of the ground right where her foot was.

Far away, Quetzalcoatl’s head flattened vertically, and his eyes started swimming across the surface. Moyōllotlachiyaliztli. You won’t escape me this time! His limbs shot back in the dirt.

Oya dropped into a sprint. She could feel Quetzalcoatl’s limbs digging through the earth below and Huang hot on her trail. Shango circled the perimeter, waiting for his moment to strike.

None of that mattered. The moment Oya needed finally arrived. The space between Metatron and her…was cleared.

“Let’s go!” She roared. She picked up speed, widening the gap between her and Huang. I can reach him! I can get it–   

Two clawed feet shot out of the ground right in front of Metatron and speared Oya in the chest. The wind flew out of her lungs, and she sailed away.

You were smart to aim for the gap, Oya. Huang thought. But not if we gave it to you. Quetz had been waiting since he first started that attack!

Oya crashed to the ground and rolled onto her back.

Now you’re done.

Oya looked up and saw Shango’s massive frame dropping towards her.

Oya rolled up onto her hands and shot up into a handstand. Shango’s feet smashed flat into Oya’s, and her arms were nailed into the ground. She grit her teeth and shot him back in the air.

Suddenly, she felt something grip her arms.

Oh n—

She vanished into the ground.

“I GOT HER!” Quetzalcoatl yelled. A worm trail raced through the snow all across the field. “And now…” Quetzalcoatl’s arms whipped out of the earth, pulling Oya high in the air. “You’re done!” He slammed Oya down, creating a massive crater. He released his grip, and his arms slithered back underground.

Jarl, flying overhead, stood frozen.

I…I don’t know what the hell’s going on! She thought. *Wait! Crap! “*Oya’s down! Oya’s down! The unrelenting undead onslaught finally brought Oya down!”

The onlookers across the Globe felt a wave of dread overwhelm them. The Yoruba Pantheon sat in silence, save for Oshumare, who continued his listless stare.

“You’re not done, Oya!” Shango roared. “Let everyone know the wife of Shango has no equal! This is nothing compared to the hells we’ve fought through!” Please don’t die…Please!

From the crater’s center, Oya snapped awake. Pain surged through her body, demanding her to stay down. Ignoring its demands, she rose to her hands and knees and stood, struggling all the way. Pain refused to release its grip, causing her to shudder, but the Adrenaline pushed her to her feet.

You can do it, Baby! He thought. Please don’t fall!

Oya breathed deeply and looked ahead. Metatron stood dozens of meters away, lazily eyeing the machete. Between them, Shango, Quetzalcoatl, and Yu Huang waited.

“What a half-baked effort,” Yu Huang said. “Were you really trying, you’d see through such a basic trap. Are you trying to die?”

“Huang, not helping!” Quetzalcoatl yelled.

“Am I supposed to? We already gave her enough to work with. The fact that she’s doing this poorly means she’s content with dying. Aren’t you, Oya?”

Her face scrunched up.

“That’s what I thought. Petty soul. Your husband dies without you, and now you make his ghost suffer as he kills you.” He twirled his dao. ”Shango! I’ll kill her so you don’t have to suffer that burden in the afterlife.”

“We’re kind of already dead, but I get what you’re saying…” Shango said.        

Oya dropped to her knees, slowing her breath.

“So you acknowledge it?” Yu Huang continued. “You’d rather die here than continue?!”

“Huang—”

“You are a Goddess! Much is expected of you! Is the tragedy of one death enough to break you?! I left my people knowing death was possible!”

Lu Ban, Lao Zi, Huanglong, Zhu Rong, and the rest of their Pantheon watched on in silence. “We may be Gods, but we are cogs! If we break, we are replaced, and everyone must move on! But this?! You spit on everything with this pitiable state—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Oya asked.

Yu Huang froze.

“I’m not giving up.” She brought her right arm across his body, resting both of her hands on her left side.

Valhalla Arena

Gods’ Barracks

Takemikazuchi and Futsunushi’s Room

Susano’o, watching the fight on his tablet, felt a surge rush through his spine. His left foot twitched as a smirk grew on his face. “Yes…,” He whispered. “Come on…” He pictured a young, dark-haired God in a kimono sitting next to her, copying her move for move.

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

“You’re right, Huang,” Oya said. “But I’m not the type to forget the dead.”

Izumo

Inasa Beach

Centuries Earlier

 Long before Apocalypse, Oya stood on a familiar beach as the sun loomed overhead. Futsunushi was kneeling just a few meters from her, his heavy, dull black armor holding firm beneath his dark gunmetal-blue kimono.

“Okay,” Futsunushi said, smiling. “So first, the concept of Soyokaze is striking from a position with the intent of receiving an attack and responding before the opponent attacks.” He burst forward, vanishing and reappearing several meters away.

“Futsu, that sounds like every other counter,” Oya said, smirking.

“Ah! Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah. Buuuuuut, the intent is that this is done from what the opponent thinks is a vulnerable stance, like sitting or kneeling. If you get it right, no one can get near you, even if you’re sitting!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Futsu!” Susano’o yelled in the distance. Take’s back from fishing! Go help him bring in the haul!”

He sighed. “Guess we’ll continue later.” He vanished. Oya looked where Susano’o’s voice came from, seeing a tall, scraggly-bearded God in a worn kimono walking her way.

“Having fun with your newest teacher?” Susano’o yelled.

Oya chuckled and started walking to him. “He’s too excited to do it properly. Am I a test-dummy for him?”

“Maaaaybe.” Susano’o smiled widely. “He’s finally getting the makings of his own style down. I think Take teaching that ‘Sumo’ stuff to Humanity lit a fire under him.” Susano’o blinked and shook his head. “Ah! Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. I know you well enough. Your body moves faster than your mind sometimes, right?”

Susano’o rubbed his neck. “Yeah…but I’m glad you came to visit. How was your time in Eire?”

“Nuada and Macha were sweet, but they’re still dealing with their own issues from Winchester. The Human Extermination Army dropping down on their territory in Midgard left a mark on their reputation.”

“That and the Old Man was Nuada’s mentor,” Susano’o added. “He’s not the type to show his hand, but there’s some personal stuff there, too.”

“What about you?” Oya asked. “He was close friends with your father, right?”

“I try not to think about it. Every time I do, it makes me worry about Take and Futsu, and if I’m doing right by them. They’re trusting me with their futures, and I’m used to going things alone.” Susano’o looked out to the ocean. “But you’re not.”

Oya nodded. “I’m still half-expecting him. It was worse back home, and I couldn’t take it.”

“So you’re traveling.”

“So I’m traveling. Everyone back home was just…suffocating. They all mourned his death, but it only happened because everyone put everything on him as the Yoruba Supreme God. That and Oshumare.”

“Is he trying to find you?”

She shook her head. “He expects me to return eventually, but I’m going to take my time.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to spend it here. Futsu and Take may try to teach you stuff, but—”

“I’d like that. I need something to focus on. Nuada taught me a few things, too.”

“Him? Really? If it wasn’t you, I’d think you were joking!”

Oya shot him a joking leer. “What’s that supposed to mean? Anyways, maybe he felt pity for me. We both came away from Winchester worse for wear. We can’t go back to how things were.”

“But changing things up can help.”

“Exactly. And I think being here will be a nice change of pace.”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

Futsu. Oya thought. Thank you for teaching me. “I learned this from one of the fighters who died today, and he was thrilled beyond measure to show me this!”

“Quetz!” Shango roared. “Go wild!”

“What?!” Quetzalcoatl yelled.

“She’s about to dash past—”

She took in a sharp breath, feeling her blood race through her veins down to her legs. Futsu-ryū Ichi no Kata; Soyokaze.

The snow beneath her feet exploded, and she vanished.

Quetzalcoatl grit his teeth. “I’ll catch you agaaaaaaaaain!” His limbs and tail fired out and retreated underground like a turret. The field tore away as all five fired out at random all over the area. His wings folded in and launched lightning-fast blows into the gaps between his tail and limbs.

“ITZAC TŌNATIUHCOĀTL TLĀLXELOA!!!!!”

The world around Quetzalcoatl was flooded with blows as his eyes continued to scan. “YOU WILL NOT GET PAST—!”

Something smashed into him, pulverizing his body. His limbs froze in place, and his wings crashed to the ground.

“QUETZ!” Metatron roared. Something smashed into and pulverized him as well, sending the machete flying. Oya snatched it out of the air and landed back on her feet. She spun around and fell back into a kneel, resting the machete, edge-up, next to her left hip.

Metatron and Quetzalcoatl both reformed in time to see her aiming for them.

That technique?! Metatron thought.

Futsu, this technique is spectacular! She thought. I gotta take these guys out now, and it’s the perfect tool for the job! “Futsu-ryū Ichi no Kata; Soyokaze!”

“No way!” Quetzalcoatl yelled. He shuddered as both eyes turned back towards Oya, seeing Metatron jump to the side. “HUANG! She’s faster now! She—"

He heard something drop on the ground, and his left eye looked back towards the source.

His right arm, cut clean in two, fell to the snow. Green cracks erupted all over it, and it melted. A few meters past it stood Oya.

“No way…”

His left arm, both legs, and his tail all fell to the ground and melted into green liquid.

Suddenly, he started sliding to the right and dropped to the ground. He looked up, seeing his immobilized lower body covered in cracks and melting away. He looked down at his disconnected torso, seeing the cracks race up to his face.

I die first…again?! He thought as the light vanished from his eyes, and his frozen form melted into a large green puddle.

Yu Huang’s eyes widened. She got it back! Damn that machete! He thought as Oya rose and turned to him.

He turned his attention to her, seeing her horns growing. Wait…Silver eyes…and a transformation? He snarled. “You stupid child! You saw into Niflheim?!”

“Nuada and Yama did it,” She said, leering at him.

Yu Huang sprinted towards her. “And look what it got them!”

Oya nodded. “Speaking of Nuada…” She stretched her arm back. “He showed me a few things!”

She threw the machete in a perfect spin.

Yu Huang side-stepped it, hearing the blade cut through the air as it passed him, and raced towards her.

Oya crouched down, placing her right and left hands together as if holding a sheathed sword.

“I thought better of you!” He yelled.

Oya stepped her right foot forward and started unsheathing her imaginary blade. “Futsu-ryū Ichi no Kata; Soyokaze….”

A familiar sound whirred through Yu Huang’s ears. He stopped and turned around in time to side-step away from the spinning machete.

It came back?! He thought.

It smacked Oya’s empty palm as she continued her slash, her blade making its second, and successful, attempt through Yu Huang.

“and Fragarach…”

Oya swiped her sword, throwing off the slush.

Yu Huang let out a soft huff. He looked down as a perfect diagonal cut appeared across his torso, and the separated pieces crashed to the ground. Did she… use the wind to call it back mid-throw? Why didn’t she use it earlier?! Was she hiding it? That dash and now that technique! Were we played?! He grew a manic smile. I couldn’t counter it! What an amazing play! I got outplayed AGAIN! Cracks raced across both halves. But she is far more graceful than you were…Peredur…

His body melted, swords and all.

Shango raced across the field, each furious stomp decimating the earth beneath him as he closed the distance. She took them both down too damn fast! What the hell were those moves?! She never used them before!

The dome shook under Oya’s feet, and she stumbled.

Now! Shango fired into the sky.

“GBIGBÁ ILẸ̀!”

He dropped down as if a bolt of solid lightning were smashing against the earth.

Oya regained her balance, looked up….and stepped back and stabbed her machete into the ground.

Shango crashed down, shaking the dome and kicking up snow. A wave of snow and air surged across the field, forming a chilled fog.

Shango popped up and scanned the area.

I can’t see anything. He thought. He looked down at his feet. I missed her…but that attack is meant to crush someone and displace entire armies. There’s no way—

“Hey,” Oya’s voice spoke from the fog. He turned to his left and saw her standing a meter in front of him, with her machete held high.

She dodged it…so easily! Shango thought. And withstood the shockwave?!

“You weren’t swinging at me earlier.”

Their brief exchange replayed in their minds.

“That archer never gave you a chance to do anything other than those big surprise attacks, did he?”

Hope dying again doesn’t hurt like last time… Shango smiled and sighed. “Yep.”

Oya swung down, her machete gliding straight down the middle of Shango’s massive frame. A blast of air fired out behind him, kicking up snow in a violent gale.

Oya stood back up, locking eyes with him. He saw the tears forming.   

Man… Shango thought, seeing the world split in two. When did you get so damn strong? His right eye locked on Oya’s face as he split apart, and he saw her slitted silver eyes. Oh…that’s how…Guess I should have paid…

Both halves dropped into the snow. Green cracks spread from where the machete cleaved him in two.

More attention…

Both halves melted away, forming another large green bubbling puddle. Oya rolled her neck as the puddle spread. She cleared her throat and shook her head. He wasn’t real…he wasn’t… She thought.

As the puddle grew, Metatron started clapping to her right.      

“Bravo,” Metatron said. “Since when have you started picking up tricks outside Ilé-Ifẹ̀?”

“When it quit being home. I travelled all over the Heavens, bothering a bunch of old friends to fill time and find peace.”

“Any luck with finding your peace?”

“Why do you care?”

“I am a copy. That means my heart is a copy of someone who cared about you.”

“If you cared, you wouldn’t have abandoned your children, waged war against them, or involved Shango.”

Metatron leered at her. “I told him to go back. I told him to find you and get out of Ilé-Ifẹ̀. Like Set and Vidarr escaped Manu and Asgard. But he didn’t, and now he’s gone. However, do not lay his choices at my feet.” Metatron stepped forward. “I know the sins I bear, and will not humor you casting stones from your glass house.”

Oya pursed her lips. “There’s no point arguing with a construct…”

Metatron nodded. “Hard not to, but time is of the essence. Do you think fancy tricks Nuada and Susano’o taught you will work against me?” He asked, his hands dropping to his sides.

Of course you’d know…paranoid old man. She rolled her eyes. “Actually, Futsu taught me, not Sano’o. He begged me to let him teach me. Never seen someone so happy to share!” Oya smirked as she walked toward him.

“Sano’o found good students. It is a shame Futsu passed.”

“We’re all feeling it, but don’t need you acting as if you care.”

The construct sighed. “You are right. After all, I am nothing but memory and ice. However, is that why you tried to cut me down first?”

Oya stopped.

KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER….

Bastard is regaining control and using my words. Metatron nodded. “It is a parlor trick. Nothing more. Sentiment is his weapon. You understand that now, so hurry it up.” Metatron crouched down, and his right foot stepped back. His right hand rose to his head while his left hung parallel to the ground in front. “For what it is worth, I have not fought in a while. But do not think that will make this easy for you.” I am running out of time.

KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!

The voice deafened his thoughts. The seal won’t hold him off forever!

Oya brought the machete, edge up, by her left side and rested it on the base of her thumb. Futsu, get ready to watch my fastest draw.

Metatron smiled. “Show me what you learned, OYA!”

“Oludumare said you’re a handful!” I wanted this earlier, but why does this feel wrong now? Why are you—

“Oya!”

She snapped out of her thoughts.

The smile faded from his eyes, and she saw the truth. The one he hid so well, but could never admit to for fear of the consequences.

“Please don’t make my kids suffer any longer.”

Her face scrunched up.  Please forgive me, everyone. She crouched down. “Futsu-ryū Ichi no Kata; Soyokaze!”

She vanished.

A few seconds stretched into eternity. The briefest tone of metal flying through the air before being muffled by the soft crunch of snow.

In the blink of an eye, she appeared behind Metatron. She rose and turned back to him.

He was looking up at the artificial sky and smiled.

Cam is probably out there with Uri, causing problems. He thought. 

A large cut ran from his right hip up to his left shoulder.

Gabe, I bet, is doing his best to hold it all together. Mike, too.

Green cracks spread out from the cut and raced across his body.

Raph is likely fretting over everything. Hope he is not driving Hilde and Geir up a wall again…

The two halves crashed to the ground.

Everyone…if I could come home…would you all…forgive me?

He melted away, forming another green puddle.

Her gaze shifted from one puddle to the next, the green liquid melting the surrounding snow and grass underneath.

Her lip quivered. Her breathing hitched, tripping out of her nose. “I didn’t do that for you…I did that for the kids you left.” She bit her lip. “They deserved better.”

She breathed a few times deeply, collecting herself. Her left hand clenched, popping her knuckles.

“They’re dead, coward,” Oya said, her voice dripping with vitriol. “Show yourself.”

Something rustled behind her. She turned, seeing a familiar spirit.

“You survived?” Pakkanen spoke. The words struggled to leave his featureless face.

 “This is…unexpected.”

Oya leered at him. “When you throw half-baked copies like that at someone like me, were you expecting it to work?”

“Yes.”

Oya huffed. “You should have paid more attention to that trick. Kind of a drawback if it actively works against you.”

Pakkanen blinked rapidly.

This was the first time I tried using Metatron. He thought. The others are typically sufficient. Is she this powerful? What happened while I slept?

“Oh? Guess that’s news for you. If you were actually trying to learn your powers like a God would—”

“Don’t prattle at me. Like a God? Acting as if you’re anything special. You are all nothing more than cattle filled with undeserved arrogance, fragile egos, and deep-rooted fear that something may be stronger than you. When you see the dead, your kind always falter. Why?”

“Getting real tired of your attitude, especially since ‘what I forced you to do’ turned out so petty and ‘beneath’ you.” Oya stretched out her right arm.

Pakkanen returned her leer. “You still don’t see the truth: that nothing about your species protects you from your mediocrity or weakness when faced with reality. Ragnarök and Winchester are irrefutable truths.” He tilted his head. “Humans can kill Gods. Then and now, that’s a total of seven. And what do you all do in response to Humanity fighting back, Oya?”

She leered at him.

“How’s Arthur, by the way? Do you think he knows what you and your Pantheon did to Camelot? Yu Huang’s? Quetzalcoatl’s? Have you visited him recently? Tried to kill him to avenge Shango?”

Her body froze, and she struggled to keep her machete aloft.

Pakkanen shuddered, chuckling a little. He looked up at the windows of the box seats, eyeing the Gods looking their way.

“You all speak of Humanity’s sins and depravity, but hypocrisy looks ugly on anyone. Even Gods.”

A loud boom echoed out of the forest far behind Oya. She looked back, seeing a cloud of fresh snow fill the air as something soared through the sky. It descended in an arch, down towards the pair. It flew over Oya’s head and horns, and Pakkanen snatched it out of the air.   

A piece of something…rotten…encased in a jagged piece of ice.

“However, despite the pathetic truth, I cannot deny it. You are no longer prey.”

The ice sank into his palm and slithered through his arm down to his chest.

“You are now a predator liiiiiike meeeeeee…” His voice dropped into a guttural echo as jagged ice erupted from his feet. More shards burst from his body and grew, forming a massive tower of jagged ice. “Thiiiiiiis is nooooot a huuuuunt anymoooooooore….” His voice echoed out of the spire, shaking it.

Oya stomped forward and swung the machete down, sending a sharp blast of air. The blast hit the spikes, but dissipated around the surface.

What the hell was that thing? She thought. Was it here the whole time? Did he drop it earlier?! How did I miss it?!

Cracks raced from the base and covered the spire’s surface. The spire…exploded, sending ice everywhere.

Oya looked up, eyeing a floating piece of ice, and felt the urge to run. Shit…

Valhalla Arena

Medical Wing

Nuada’s Room

 

“No…” Nuada whispered through the speaker. “It…it’s not possible.”

“By Eire,” Macha said, looking at the monitor. “Why does he look like that?”

On the monitor standing atop the ice was a monster. Covered in snow-white armor, Pakkanen’s paws were replaced by two-toed feet. His long, wide arms shrank and were covered in wraps under clawed gauntlets. Slim armor covered his chest and shoulders, while his head turned into a wolf-shaped helmet. Eight horns adorned his head like an organic crown. A reptilian, finned tail swished and twitched behind him.

He looked down at Oya with empty cyan eyes.

“It’s the Old Man’s armor,” Nuada said. “How?”

Ullr’s Globe

Arena

 

https://preview.redd.it/zijiwiifmewg1.png?width=2048&format=png&auto=webp&s=d9d7a3dbe1dbf0cce41ea1e54e0c162363688d88

Alkukuningas Pakkanen: Iku-Turson Ahmija

 “This power proves my superiority over my kin,” Pakkanen spoke, his voice still reverberating. “Do you know what happens when two predators exist in the same territory?”

Oya breathed deeply, and her right foot stepped back. Just as her foot touched down, she felt something, for a brief second, touch her back.

Let everyone know the wife of Shango has no equal! Shango’s voice cried out in her mind.

Her heart fluttered. The air kicked up around her.

I will.  “They fight!” Oya yelled.

Pakkanen nodded. “Exactly. So…Oya…the hunt is over. Now we fight for dominance.”

Oya cut the air with a flourish of her machete and crouched down. “And you will know why we Gods sit at the top.”

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