[M] The Throne of Gods: Memories of Divinity - IC

[RedKayne]

Kayne/Shadow Co-Op Part 2

With a trembling hand, Santav opened his palm, willing his old strength, his former power, to return—a final, desperate plea to fight back.

Nothing answered.

Santav let his hand fall limp as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Enjoy nothingness!!” Ginyumi shouted as he thrust the blade toward the Charred’s heart.

Ginyumi’s lance struck true.

…

Or so it should have.

An inch from Santav’s heart, a bead of pure blackness materialized—a fragment of nothingness that halted the weapon’s momentum as though the very concept of force itself had been erased. The bead, no larger than a coin, appeared flat and utterly two-dimensional, yet its presence radiated an overwhelming dread. Ginyumi’s breath caught in his throat. He immediately recognized this power, though it had not been witnessed in nearly a decade. Widely feared across the multiverse, it was the harbinger of a being whose dominion over nothingness had struck nightmares into even his fellow agents of Carcari.

His eyes widened in dawning horror.

Santav’s body responded to the bead’s arrival. The ashen hue of his skin began to shed away in flecks, revealing vitality beneath. His weakened form seemed to drink in the power of the anomaly. His golden eyes slowly opened, burning with brilliance and purpose that had been long buried. No longer the Charred, this was something far greater—something far worse.

For in this moment, Ginyumi realized the truth: Santav was an amalgamation of his true name. The one who rebelled against the Prince of Chaos. And by the stories, the one who slew the Monarch. Simply switch two letters.

Vantas, God of the Void.

The Void Lord’s Return Music

“How unfortunate,” Vantas murmured, his golden gaze lazily drifting toward the bead of nothingness hovering before him. Suspended midair by the possessed Morax, he shifted his focus to Ginyumi, his tone as detached as it was menacing. “It seems the Void still has use for me… which is far more unfortunate for you.”

With a subtle wave of invisible will, the bead erupted in a violent burst of concussive nothingness. The shockwave blasted Ginyumi off his feet, sending him spiraling through the air for dozens of yards. Just before his body could crash into the ground, Vantas, with an arc of pure blackness streaking behind him, seized the possessed Morax by the back of his skull. With a maddened grin and maniacal laughter echoing, the Void Lord flung the God of Spears through the air, sending him crashing violently against a jagged cliff face.

“Do you think spears can save you from oblivion? Do you think dreams wait for you at the end?” Vantas’s smile reached his ears as he called to the valley, his golden eyes fixed on the plume of dust and debris. “You and your puppet’s domains were made by mankind. Your divinity lives in mortality alone.”

A trail of black again streaked behind as Vantas leaped, and he landed with a gust of wind that cleared the dust around the possessed Morax. His manic gaze lingered upon him, blood dripping down his torso from the still-open wounds. “I will enjoy this, Ginyumi.” He calmly raised a hand cloaked in a carnivorous darkness. “If my patron calls me to dispose of the waste, the least I can do is savor it.” His finger twitched, and the ravenous void split itself into four to pierce Morax’s limbs to the ground.

Everything happened so fast that Ginyumi didn't have time to react. He was about to put the Charred out of his misery instantly. The next moment he had been flung into the side of the cliff walls, and his limbs were pierced by fragments of the power of the void. Golden blood seeped from the points the fragments were embedded in his skin, and aether dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

Now everything made sense. How he knew so much about him, and why he was traveling with the other gods. He was the bastard that killed the Monarch of Chaos. The one that threw his loyalty away and killed many of the gods that stood at the forefront of Chaos. Everything made sense, and the only thing Ginyumi could do was laugh.

“So, this is what happened to you? After you led the rebellion, you lost yourself and fell into nothing. Only to once again stand in the way of the people you once called comrades.” He continued to laugh uncontrollably as he pulled at the spikes that held him.

“God of the Void. Do you truly think that siding with these gods will get you anywhere? You may have won one battle, but the war is far from over.” Morax’s body was strong, and Ginyumi ripped his arms and legs free from their restraints. Just as five spears cut through the ground once more to try and force Vantas back. Golden blood flowed from Morax’s limbs as he stood up to his full height. “Shall we see who will die first?”

Vantas leaped back out of reach of the spears and slowed, suspended in the air by tethers unseen. “This war was never about sides. Do you really think I betrayed you and the rest of Baldramort’s pups?” The whites of his eyes were swallowed by darkness, his body almost twitching with a wash of energy it hadn't felt in years. “How can I betray a tool or a weapon? You never earned my loyalty. You were never my ‘comrade’. None of you were.”

Tendrils of void licked from his eyes, begging to be unchained. “You were simply…convenient. Nothing more.” His hand calmly cut inward, and a wave of darkness sliced diagonally out from him in an attempt to cut Ginyumi in two.

“I see now that you never were part of the cause. I am guessing you only got close to our lord to find a way to kill him. Well, being used as a tool works both ways. The others used you to eliminate Baldramort from this world. However, the joke is on you. The Lord of Chaos still lives, and he will return to this world. One way or another.” Ginyumi said as he jumped out of the way of the incoming strike.

“Mortals may have formed my power, but that doesn't mean I am inferior to you.” The light surrounding him grew brighter as Ginyumi prepared to unleash Morax's ultimate skill. The air crackled with tension as golden portals materialized around him, their edges glowing like miniature suns. The Void God was a formidable opponent who could not be underestimated. Ginyumi knew this battle demanded nothing less than overwhelming force.

"You might believe yourself invincible, but even you have weaknesses," Ginyumi declared, his grin widening. Within the portals, the glint of countless spearheads became visible, their deadly tips gleaming with divine energy.

Without hesitation, the assault began. Spear after spear rained down from the heavens, a ceaseless onslaught erupting from the portals. The barrage grew ferocious with each passing moment, an unrelenting storm of golden death. Ginyumi stood amidst the chaos, his smile unwavering as he unleashed everything in Morax’s arsenal against the God of the Void.

Oh?

Vantas’s brow rose at Ginyumi’s words, his inquisitive expression gleaming in the golden light from the portals. So the energy he had felt Silvannus radiate earlier was connected to Baldramort. His gaze drifted calmly towards the approaching onslaught of spears, and the darkness in his eyes flared. That means I now have loose ends to clean up…after this.

The maelstrom of supersonic spears slowed to a crawl as everything stilled. The reverberations of their battle halted, rock and water silent as something crept from beyond the veil. Even the air vibrated in anticipation, anxiety, and fear of what moved outside and between its molecules

"You're right," Vantas said, his voice cold and hollow. "I do have weaknesses. But your light isn't one of them.”

The space above Vantas ripped with a harrowing scream.

A rift of pure black opened as the space between spaces expanded, the air pulsing in aftershocks and scattering Morax’s weapons far away. A gaping maw of darkness opened in reality as the Void itself tore its way into and through their world. The air howled as it fought to compress the space again, but the Void would not be denied, and it roared in defiance as it continued to grow behind above Vantas. The darkness contained in his eyelids started to spread across his skin until every inch of his being was consumed by void darker than black, a silhouette of negative space in the shape of a man with two glowing golden irises.

Those golden eyes snapped upon Ginyumi.

The void storm screamed and pulsed behind Vantas, and the weight of folded reality around Morax’s body crushed him to his knees. Spacetime compressed like an accordion and then warped at the edge of the black hurricane, but Vantas’s dark form appeared unaffected as he slowly and deliberately walked toward Ginyumi. Every step closer compounded the forces that radiated and escaped from the storm, sinking the possessed god’s eyes into his skull. For any onlookers, they could only see a swirling mass sphere of blackness, warping the space around the two combatants and howling like a storm of lost souls.

When Vantas was within arm’s reach, he took Morax’s chin with two fingers and effortlessly tilted his face up to meet the two golden discs of his eyes in a sea of black. “If Baldramort has returned, I’ll kill him again. If he lives after that, I'll kill him once more. I’ll keep killing him until I've destroyed divinity itself, and none of this will matter anymore.” The golden eyes widened, and even in his black silhouette, his smile was visible. “If I can do that to Baldramort, what chance do you stand here?”

[RedKayne]

Scene music - https://youtu.be/71k6gx2RwY8?si=i0W3eOMLwco-ibyy


‘A funeral pyre to put theirs to shame…’

Atrophos gifted the Goddess of Death a pitiful smile. At one point, he would have gratefully taken such an end. To light up the night sky and be seen from miles around. His flesh melting until there was nothing but the scraps for the birds left. Dark eyes settled on Messis as he sighed. That ending was not one that he would happily accept any longer. He had hope. He could feel power coursing through his chest again. Even if every single attack on Messis was to be useless. He had to try.

That familiar wooden staff twirled in his hand and came up to clash with the scythe of Messis. Only for a wave of something to crackle through his body. His knuckles went white as he held his staff high. Something had happened. Something that he had not experienced before. Static filled his mind as he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. Pushing Messis back. Gifting Moriteva some precious time. ‘Keep her busy’ Oh. Thanks. I totally can do that. Atrophos thought playfully as he pushed back on Messis’s attack. “You always were so predictable…Everything must end. Does that not also include you, dear?”

With her ire focused solely on Atrophos, Moriteva was forgotten momentarily as the God of Decay began his return assault on Messis. She met his staff with strikes from the broad side of her scythe, repelling the swings of his staff with ease. His question reached her, merely causing her to smile. “Everything ends…when there is naught left to die, I will have served my purpose. That is why we exist…to serve a purpose. And yours…is to feed my unending desire for the end…” She quickly hacked at Atrophos, who managed to escape the tip of her blade narrowly. The look in Messis’ bright blue eyes was one of both murderous intent and a quiet acceptance of fate. She knew what her job was, and she would carry it out to its end, no matter what the outcome at the end of the tunnel might be. She knew her purpose. Her purpose was in her title. She stepped forward, preparing to pin down Atrophos and put a pitiful end to the God of Decay once and for all. One more distraction out of her way.

Atrophos clicked his tongue against his teeth as he managed to stumble just out of the way of the next attack. Gone were the small movements and carefully plotted attacks of his. The static in his skull had his jaw tensing. The Goddess of Death will not stop until his body becomes one with the ash. His movements in the dust kicked it up around them and Atrophos flicked his left hand like one would a whip. Sharp bursts of dust and ash exploded around Messis, grit tearing through skin that quickly repaired itself. No longer was he trying to hurt Messis. No. This was a distraction. Concentrate on him, not the others who were…

As Messis prepared the final blow, a heavy thud redirected her attention. Moriteva landed heaving on the ground in front of both gods, a pained groan coming from the Warden as he felt something in the arm he landed on break.

“Agh…” Moriteva grit his teeth. He couldn’t use what was left of his reserves on himself if he could afford it. Others needed it. Others more important than himself. Instead, he called to the earth below him. Ashen rock rose from the ground, forming around his broken arm and encasing it in a mostly unmoving cast. The pain faded from a searing agony to a dull throb. It was enough for him to get up. Or he would have, if his gaze didn’t land on his other half, staring down at him like a wolf who had just found a wounded target.

Messis seemed a little bit annoyed. “I will need to have a word with Minos…about keeping his hands off my prey…” Messis shrugged. “But it is no matter. He has delivered you to me.”

Minos, the Judge, was quickly approaching, his attention focused on Atrophos. Though he could not see what happened, Moriteva not risking looking away from the Reaper with a bead on his soul, a blue light flared behind him, and a furious and pained snarl from Minos told him something had finally broken their way. But he had more important things to worry about. He rolled out of the way of Messis’ scythe, but was quickly stopped by a foot on his wrist. That foot was quickly used to deliver a kick to his chin, sending the Warden sprawling. Dazed, Moriteva looked up, seeing Messis’ scythe held high. He braced for impact, expecting the sweet sting of metal to tear him asunder.

He waited.

And waited.

Moriteva relaxed his pose nervously, glancing up at Messis. She had lowered her scythe, her gaze now empty and fixated on something to her right. Moriteva raised an eyebrow in confusion, but said nothing, not wishing to break her from her trance. A single sentence escaped her lips, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared in awe.

“The empty one…he returns…”

Empty one…?

Moriteva turned his head to where Messis was staring, only for his jaw to clench. He knew the all-encompassing blackness that greeted his vision as Morax seemed to practically be torn asunder in a hopeless matchup he couldn’t win. The antithesis of life, yet far more empty than death. “Vantas…” When did he get here? Why was he here in the first place? Was he friend or foe? Questions Mori didn’t have time for, and he prayed he would not need to answer.

* * * * * *

As Moriteva landed heavily at Messis’s feet, Atrophos let out another sharp tut. The God of Decay twisted his attention towards the Goddess that called his name only for Atrophos to hit the ash harshly. The dust coating his body as it attempted to rock him to the hard ground. Time seemed to slow as Visana was hit harshly in the chest. He tried to scramble to his feet, only for light to dance through her skin. A gnarled shard of Minos’s claw landed by Atrophos’s hand.

‘Atrophos….I think this one’s judgement is overdue.’

“You are entirely right, my dear.” Atrophos responded as he gripped the claw and hurled it towards Minos. The ash clogged deeply in the strands of Visana’s hair tore free to coat the claw in muck as it managed to wriggle into one of the small gaps in Minos’s chest plate. The God of Decay managed to send a smile to the Goddess of Protection, one that did not sigh from his features as he reared his staff back. Ready to attack.

With a sweep of her wings Visana launched up into the air, sending a ring of displaced ash slashing out from the place where she had stood. She hovered above the battle, wings beating the air, blue light pulsing in ripples from the scar at the centre of her chest.

Minos hissed, his arms clawing at the dust trying to burrow into his carapace. “Come down and fight me, you coward!”

Visana’s eyes met his once more, filled with determination. “I don’t need to fight you, Minos. I only need to protect the world you sought to destroy. I only need to give those who remain the strength to rise.”

She reached one hand down, fingers spread. Curling runes flicker-flashed through the air, touching Atrophos and Moriteva and spiraling up their bodies in a web of glowing wards. Both gods now pulsed with warm blue light.

Minos screeched, his many limbs twisting as they raked the air in fury. “I am the god of judgment, of inevitability. You are nothing!”

Visana smiled, her body remade, her spirit whole. “You are wrong. We are everything.”

She watched as Minos surged towards Atrophos, only to spasm and fall to one knee as the dust took effect. This isn’t a fair fight, and it never was. Minos, the god of judgment, against the quiet, relentless forces of life and decay - forces that could not be controlled, and could not be judged.

Visana turned away, looking down at Messis who still stood immobile, shocked into inaction by the sudden transformation of Santav, Moriteva still lying at her feet. What did they do to you, Requiem? She snatched in her wings and let herself fall, blade turned down to smash the scythe out of the Reaper’s grip.

With Messis seemingly focused on the new arrival, rooted in place, the Warden rose to his feet, turning around to see Atrophos and Visana now engaged with Minos, whose fury seemed to equally rival Messis’ apathy.

Moriteva, banged up yet still standing, offered Minos a smile once again. “How about now? Still insignificant?” He didn’t know how much use he’d be, his life energy drained and his arm stuck in a cast. But he wasn’t about to back down now. If he gave the others an opening, then he could still be useful.

* * * * * *

She expects us to fail, maybe even die.

Minos’s faceless head tilted slightly as Messis’s earlier words reverberated within his hollow skull, gnawing at the edges of his being. The battlefield was shifting against them. Visana had reclaimed her domain's power, Zeyra struggled against Ridstus, and the Charred’s true identity—the slayer of Baldramort—had been laid bare. His chest-maw wheezed and heaved, fighting through the choking ash and clinging dust that surrounded him like a vice.

A retreat is not an option, he thought coldly, his resolve hardening. Failure would not be tolerated—not by his mistress, and certainly not by himself. He knew the cost of failure under her watchful eye. She would not let him live to suffer the shame. Yet even as this truth echoed in his mind, a darker thought threatened to take root: perhaps his master had already set him up for failure, ensuring his defeat regardless of how fiercely he fought. Was this the end for him, a resignation to die like a dog in the dirt?
No. It wasn’t resignation that gripped him—it was fury.

With a sudden, monstrous motion, Minos raised his three remaining clawed hands, jagged and brutal. The flesh of his palms split open with grotesque ease, revealing slavering mouths—additional conduits for his relentless judgment. They snarled, gurgled, and then roared in unison as his power surged.

“For the egregious crime of severing the Hand of Judgment, I take a limb as repayment,” Visana screamed as the skin of her left leg exploded in a violent geyser of Aether, causing her to plummet.

“For the sinful attempt to silence the Voice of Judgment, I take your sight.” Atrophos stumbled backward, the protection rune that marked him flaring in distress as blood burst from his eyes, leaving him blinded and vulnerable.

“For standing against the Will of Judgment, I deem your pain hundredfold.” Moriteva gasped as an oppressive pain crushed upon both of his arms, his protection rune flickered and sputtered as it fought against the spell.

Minos’s chest-maw continued to heave, each strained breath an audible snarl of rage. The words that followed came with a guttural finality, dripping with venom.

“Hurry up and kill your target, Reaper,” he barked at Messis, his tone laced with impatience. “My tolerance for delay is waning.” The God of Judgment’s hollow form trembled with barely contained wrath, his energy bleeding into the battlefield. If Messis faltered in her task, Minos resolved, he would handle her himself—just as before, when she defied his command and slew the God of Imprisonment. This time, he would make her pay.

[RedKayne]

Kayne/Han/Hoef Co-Op

Round 2 Music

Zeyra stepped onto the smoke bomb, triggering it. The dense cloud erupted around her, and the Goddess of Hatred shrieked in frustration, instinctively shielding her eyes as the haze engulfed her. “Damn you! You pathetic machine! You worthless pile of scrap!” she spat venomously, her voice a mix of fury and desperation. She swung her greatsword wildly through the smoke, hoping to strike the elusive God of Industry.

But in her blind rage, she revealed a critical vulnerability—her power to suppress others relied entirely on maintaining a direct line of sight. Cut off from her target, her influence faltered.

“Riddy. She requires line of sight to suppress you. We must abuse her inability to see.”

“Better said than done SP00N. SP00N? Wait, how do I know you?”

“A long explanation about time and our place in it.. But now is not time for light discussions in quantum mechanics, we need to fight. Now.”

“Right... Okay, how do I beat her then??”

“We need to turn this bitch into hide and seek!!”

“Hmm.. That might not be a half bad idea.. Let’s try that.”

“Then suggestion: Create pillars and walls from the environment to obscure her vision.”

“Alright then, SP00N, give me a read out in the surface integrity of this dimension as well as the likelihood of pillar/wall creation!”

“Running the numbers now..”

“Ooh! OOH! WHAT DID I DO BOSS??”

“You...? You sit on standby for when we kill this bitch.”

“BIG BETS”

Ridstus saw that there had been serious changes that even he wasn’t privy to, nor was he going to question it. All that mattered was that he was winning against Zeyra, and he was going to keep winning. As such, feeling a sudden surge of new software being uploaded into his person, he put a thought together. That thought manifested, seamlessly, into his calves becoming stronger boosters as his feet became skates. He closed his chest and activated the boosters. This sent him zooming toward Zeyra, tearing up ground as he moved. Riddy was so surprised by this turn of events that he almost forgot to attack. KNIF3 had to take over in those fleeting seconds.

As such his thoughts seamlessly manifested music that was almost noise if it wasn't for syncopated rhythms and rhymes; vocals included. KNIF3, without a shred of remorse, skated in close to puncture her side with his bare hand. However, that hand became an unsightly drill that was revving and spinning with unhinged ferocity.

The drill tore into Zeyra’s alabaster skin, the sound of shattering glass piercing the air as splinters of her glistening exterior scattered like shards of a broken mirror. The Goddess of Hatred recoiled, her shriek echoing through the battlefield—not in pain, but in pure, undiluted rage.

“You dare defile me!” she snarled, staggering back as her free hand clutched the gaping wound in her crystalline form. Smoke still cloaked the area, blinding her to her enemy’s movements, but Zeyra’s pride refused to let her retreat outright. Instead, she made her defiance known. Lifting her massive greatsword with one arm, she didn’t aim—precision wasn’t necessary for her rage. She hurled the weapon like a spear and it cleaved through the smoke, cutting a vicious path before embedding itself in the ground mere feet from Marette.

Then, in an instant, Zeyra vanished, reappearing beside her blade. The corruption in her aura swirled like a storm, and her crimson eyes flared as she glared down at her quarry. “Mother,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “I see your hand in this trickery. It’s just like you to meddle.” the corrupted celestial accused, knowing she side-stepped out of the smoke bomb earlier but still somehow triggered it.

Zeyra’s gaze burned brighter, locking onto Marette. At that moment, the Time Maiden’s powers faltered, her connection to the flow of time suppressed under the weight of Zeyra’s hatred. The Goddess smirked, raising her greatsword with malice gleaming in her expression. “I wish I could savor this more, if only that bitch, Malphas, told me about your imprisonment,” Zeyra spat, her voice cold and deliberate. “But you won’t need much time where you’re going.” With a burst of speed, she charged forward, her corrupted form radiating power as she swung her weapon in a brutal arc, aiming to cleave through her powerless mother.

Marette remained expressionless as her daughter, now wounded, spun out, turning her attention toward the Goddess of Time. The massive blade landed mere feet from Marette’s delicate frame. Her daughter’s words were hardly scathing, she had heard far worse from Zeyra over the millennia. Marette could feel her power obstructed, cut off from her, a familiar feeling given what Petos had done when he drove the dagger through her heart. “Pathetic,” Marette said softly. “You need to rid me of my power to defeat me?” She could only shake her head, her eyes fleeting across her surroundings. Ridstus had created a series of obstacles when he charged forward and landed a blow against the hateful creature. Zeyra was beside her blade, so very close to her.

There would be no time to aid her, and no time to escape the path of her daughter’s rage without injury. Even without the power of time, Marette need only buy more time for Ridstus to regroup and resume his attack. As Zeyra was within a breath of her mother, Marette allowed her form to drop toward the ground, in an attempt to prevent the blade from tearing through the entirety of her body, much as she had done to Aegis.

Before the pain, there was an intense pressure. Marette screamed as the searing pain tore through her body. It was nothing like the pain she felt when the dagger was driven through her chest. The blade sliced through her shoulder and deep into her chest, mere centimeters before her freshly repaired heart. Golden aether flowed freely from her wounds, pouring down her body and onto the ground, soaking the ash that lay beneath Marette’s feet. The Goddess of Time fell to her knees. “Your father… would be so disappointed in you.” Marette could taste the blood in her mouth, she spit it out onto the ground beside her before collapsing.

Zeyra loomed over her weakened mother, a wicked grin twisting her lips despite the blood dripping from her earlier wound. "Save your breath, dearest mother," she sneered, her tone dripping with mockery. "Taunting never was your strong suit." With a cackle, she hefted her greatsword high, the blade gleaming as she prepared to strike. "As for father," she continued coldly, "he's next. Once I'm done with you, I'll hunt him down and finish what I started."

KNIF3 needed time to come back around, and thankfully Time Lady allotted him enough of it to really put the pain to Zeyra. Which, resulted in a sudden conjuration of several small missiles that, upon detonation, leveled a city block. He left them suspended in the air, waiting for the right moment to detonate them upon the enraged goddess. So, he acted on instinct.

He coated his advance by screaming in the same octave as Marette, and kicked the Goddess of Time out of the way to replace her with himself. Once she was clear out of the splash zone, he instantly snapped his fingers. In a simultaneous motion those missiles came down like comets upon their position while he drove hand drills straight into her person in rapid succession. Effectively, making himself a continued distraction while the both of them get splashed in fire and fragmentation.

“We’re built for this right?”

“Correct. The explosive yield will only do cosmetic damage. This body of ours can withstand most mundane explosions.”

“Okay, Cosmetic?? You mean it’s going to hurt my pretty face? But I really like it!”

“We will get you a new one.”

“BUT I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE!”

“We’re doing this… You always do this..”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU TWO!!” He shouted at Zeyra, treating it as a battle cry. And while KNIF3 fought Zeyra, Riddy spoke with SP00N about Marette’s condition.

“What do we got doc??”

“Without breaking concentration, she’s got some time before she croaks. If we take care of Zeyra now, we’ll be able to treat her wounds. Thus, Ridstus.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to need you to take control after this attack. I’ve got a plan that’ll end this fight in one swift move. I’m going to need you to follow my plan to the letter. Think you can do that?”

“Psh, easy. Let’s dance with destiny!”

“Alright. KNIF3, get ready to swap.”

“THE FUCK!? WHY??” He shouted even more, adding unholy obscenities at the end of it.

“I’m not going to elaborate. Just do it when I whistle.”

There was an unsatisfied groan as he lurched forward again to send another volley as the fire and fragmentation engulfed them.

Sparks and fragments of flame erupted in every direction as Zeyra and Ridstus clashed amidst the chaos of missile impacts. "You were always a disgrace to the faction of Freedom, Ridstus!" the Goddess of Hatred roared over the deafening explosions, her greatsword slamming against his spinning drills with furious precision. "Your childish antics, your incessant whining—you drove everyone away!" She swung her blade again, the collision igniting a cascade of sparks.

"I should have ended you back then," she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "Spared you the torment of this pathetic existence!" Her greatsword locked against the twin drills, forcing a stalemate as her crimson eyes blazed with unrelenting fury. "You were alone then, and you'll die alone now, with no one left to save you," she growled through clenched teeth.

The debris began to settle as the final missile struck, revealing Zeyra’s alabaster skin fractured with cracks, her form appearing deceptively fragile. But the corrupted celestial was far from finished. Her free hand pierced through Ridstus's torso, her fingers coiling tightly around his core—his very heart. "You cannot escape your fate," she hissed, her blackened lips curving into a cruel smile as she prepared to rip it free and deliver the killing blow.

[RedKayne]

Purg/Az Co-Op

Background Music

Visana’s dive became a headlong tumble as pain spread through her. She had only a split-second to look down, to see her lower leg coated in blood as if her skin had simply burst, to see the runic swirls that curled up her thigh glowing blue-hot with pain. She dared not think what might have happened if she had been forced to take the full power of the curse.

End him, Atrophos!

Too late to stop her descent, she crashed into Messis - her blade sparking off the scythe haft and jarring it out of the reaper’s grip, her left leg folding under her the moment it touched the ground. The pain was blinding, but she drove herself up from her knees with her wings alone, swooping around Messis to put herself between the reaper and the pain-paralyzed Mori. She looked into Messis’ burning eyes - once dark, now ice blue. Had Hades’ power overtaken her, like the spearmaster and the stormbringer?

“Requiem!” Visana pleaded as she warded the other goddess back. “If you’re still in there, fight it!”

* * * * * *

Deep in his heart, Moriteva knew he had no business continuing to goad the God of Judgment as he did. Yet he couldn’t help himself. It felt…good to be just a little cocky on the battlefield, even with the odds turned against them. It infuriated his opponent, hopefully opening up their defenses as they fumed that the ever-cool-headed Warden of Life dared to poke the tiniest bit of fun at them during a fight. Unfortunately, Mori had not properly learned the art of banter. Minos seemed to compose himself despite his rage, his arms opening to reveal additional mouths that made the Warden want to retch. He truly was disgusting. Moriteva thought to jam his stone-encased hand in one of them to silence it, but before he could, his judgment was read.

Pain one hundredfold.

Moriteva’s smile was wiped off his face as his wounds, once mere irritants, suddenly erupted into all-encompassing agony. His left arm, a dull throb, now splintered as though it had shattered into a thousand pieces. His right arm, still leaking celestial blood, seared as though it had set entirely alight. His legs, aching from exertion, now crumpled under his weight, as though they were carrying a hundred tons. Moriteva cried out in pain, even as the glowing blue runes that surrounded him did what they could to absorb the pain inflicted on him. It was only thanks to Visana that he didn’t simply vomit from the agony and pass out. Even so, he has left a kneeling, crumpled heap, wanting nothing more than to clutch his arms in a vain attempt to ease their suffering, yet being unable to. Even the slightest movement was a mistake.

In spite of this, Moriteva forced himself to turn around, pivoting on his knees to observe Visana. Minos had ordered Messis to finish the job on him. It seemed he was disinterested in landing the final blow. For now, at least. Messis, for her part, was still staring in Vantas’ direction, the look on her face entranced. Visana, rapidly descending from the air, struck the defenseless reaper, her beloved scythe clattering to the ashen stone. Messis stumbled from the unexpected attack, her vision snapped back to the intrusion on her moment of peace.

“You…” Messis narrowed her eyes, evidently unperturbed by the disarming as Visana crumpled to the ground.

Her cry was one that Messis did not respond to. A desperate plea to Messis-no. That one. Her eyes sparked with fury as the Protector dared use the name that had died in the pits of Tartarus. Messis reached out as Visana’s wings forced her off the ground, gripping onto her remaining good leg.

Visana’s hand reached out in turn to grab Messis’ shoulder, spirals of light flowing down her arm and into the Reaper, seeking to unpick whatever enchantment had shackled her mind.

“Requiem,” she said again, her face flame-gilded by the sword she held at bay in her other hand. “Fight it.”

The runes of protection quested out, but they grasped at nothing because there was no spell holding the Reaper in thrall, no soul left to save. Visana’s soul wilted at the realization.

Messis could smell the blood in the air - her foe was ripe to be put down. She yanked Visana back to her, throwing her to the ground in front of her.

“Do you compare me to the dogs of the red dreamer?” Messis hissed, her voice pure hatred and venom. “I am no puppet. There is no Requiem any longer.” The name filled her with such anger. A name lost to the past. A name she was no longer, and never could be again.

Visana looked up at her, teeth gritted from the pain of her damaged leg. The blue lights winding around her hand dimmed as she redirected her power. “Then I’m sorry.”

The fury in Messis’ eyes did not subside as she reached down, grabbing Visana by the neck and lifting her in a powerful vice grip, leaving her legs to dangle as she tilted her head down to look her in the eye. Visana lunged the star blade at Messis’ chest. Messis’ other hand caught it, gold blood bursting between her fingers as she stopped the thrust dead. Underlit by the cold glow of the blade, her face looked almost demonic.

As Messis gripped tighter, Visana’s skin flared bright, runes of protection fighting a vicious tug of war against the dark force attempting to drain her life energy away. A cruel, wild grin spread on the Reaper’s face. “And now…I send you to him. To the empty one. Embrace….the void.” Messis’ icy blue eyes glowed eerily, dragging Visana’s consciousness away from her…

---

Visana’s eyes opened to the same battlefield as before, yet strangely empty. No cries of the fallen Warden. No thrashing of the enraged Minos. No heavy collisions and explosions of the battling Ridstus and Zeyra. Not even the vast emptiness of Vantas. Visana looked around. She knew this place - the white tunnel, the final light. The cradle with which Requiem enfolded the dying when she finally came for them. She had watched mortals smile as they saw it, a modicum of comfort whenever Atrophos’ power won out over her own yet again. But there was something different about it now - something pitiless and dark.

There was no comfort here. Nothing at all, save Visana. Visana and a voice.

“Do you understand your folly, Protector?” Messis’ voice pierced through Visana’s mind, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Out of the corner of Visana’s vision, Messis’ figure appeared over the horizon of the ashen plains, her body seemingly massive against the backdrop of the previously barren landscape. And to her left, another appeared. And another.

“All this time you spend focused on everyone else…” A javelin screamed out of midair, piercing through Visana’s left wing and pinning her to the ground, golden aether leaking from the newly sprouted appendage. Another flew in from seemingly nowhere, tearing through the muscle of her calf and stabbing into her left foot. “And yet you never thought for your own safety. Who protects the Protector?” A third javelin was much more direct, driving itself directly through her stomach.

Visana choked out a gasp, her muscles clenched in pain. It felt as real as Minos’ scourging, almost enough to eclipse the dim awareness of heat around her neck as Messis’ grip on her true body began to blister through her protective wards. She focused past it. She had to maintain the connection.

“You’re more right than you know, Reaper,” she said quietly, gold running from her lips as she wrapped her hands around the javelin impaling her stomach. She wanted to use the death goddess’ true name, but Requiem seemed gone. With an effort, Visana raised her eyes to meet those of Messis.

“I never could beat you.” the protector said, mournfully. “Not even once. Anything I ever did was nothing more than a stall.”

As her very essence began to pool with the ash underneath her, a final figure appeared in front of her. Messis, at her usual size, scythe in hand as she smiled warmly at the sight in front of her. She tutted softly.

“A shame. You spoke that useless, dead name…and now you will become just like it. Forgotten and meaningless in the wastelands.” Messis laughed brightly, evidently thoroughly enjoying the torture of her foe. She strode forward, tossing her scythe from hand to hand as she cocked her head. “Be thankful I am delivering you to him…you get the gift that I can never see, can never have for myself…”

“Oh, you might yet.” Visana managed to smile as she felt the wards around her true body’s neck begin to flicker and fail, Messis’ life-draining grip tightening like a noose. She poured the last of her power into its new recipient and hoped that it would be enough. “Like I said, I’ve only ever been able to stall you. So what do you think I’m doing now?”

Just enough protection to hold back Minos’ curse of pain. Just enough strength…to rise.

No. Another voice called out, this one much more familiar. The voice of Moriteva.

“What…?” Messis turned her head, staring up into the cloudless sky. “No…?”

She is not yours to take. I will not allow it! Moriteva’s voice rang out louder than before, and Messis suddenly clutched her head, dropping to the ground. An ear-piercing scream ripped from the Reaper’s mouth; the ground rumbled as the fabric of the world seemed to threaten to tear.

“No! This is…get…out…of…my…head…!”

---

The vision shattered like glass as Messis’ concentration was broken. Moriteva was on his feet, panting but still standing as he stared down Messis, conviction flaring in his gently glowing eyes. The scream from Visana’s vision had carried over as the Reaper continued to wail in agony.

Did you forget so easily? You aren’t the only one who can abuse the other… Moriteva let his thoughts cross their cursed mental link, causing the recipient agonizing pain. Messis’ grip loosened, her life drain forgotten as she fought in vain to drive off the pain of their warped connection. Her flails sent Visana tumbling to the ground as Messis dropped to her knees. The reaper gritted her teeth, the cries of pain lessening as she fumbled around on the ground for her scythe. Visana kicked it further out of her reach.

“I…you…I will not…be felled so easily…”

[Hannelorian]

The Goddess of Time sat on her knees, blankly staring in the direction of Ridstus and her daughter. Golden aether spilled from her wound, the great sword having left its impression upon her delicate flesh. The battle was inconsequential. If her daughter fell to Ridstus, she would grieve the loss of her only child. If her daughter were to be triumphant, Marette would be the next to meet her death, the punishment for breaking her word, her bond, and intervening. There seemed to be little else to do aside from resigning herself to her fate. There was no more Marette could do.

Her eyes closed. The sounds of battle were her only indication of what was happening. Silent tears carved a path through her ash and blood-ridden cheeks. Marette’s breath slowed down as she slowly began to grow light-headed. “You were the best part of me,” Marette spoke softly and to absolutely no one. The power of grief already had a hold of her. “All I ever wanted was you.” A quivering hand rested over Marette’s heart. “I betrayed you. When that was all I longed to protect you from, betrayal, the pain of knowing the truth of your father… and the sins of your mother.” It was almost as though Marette were praying to an unknown force, or perhaps confessing her sins like she had listened to from the mortals. So many confessions.

Now Marette understood them. She understood what led her here, and every mistake she had ever made was replaying in her mind on a loop. A thousand memories a second, bombarding and overwhelming her. “Should I have stayed with him? For your sake?” Marette wondered as her eyes finally opened to what would ultimately prove to be the final moments of the fight. “I loved him. Petos loved me. And together we created something beautiful, the Goddess born of our passion. Born of our love and happiness. It was not he who betrayed you but I, and I shall live the rest of my days, whether they be long or short carrying that burden.”

Marette turned her head to face her. “The truth is your father loved you. He loved you so much. So much. You weren’t like your half-siblings, not to him. But I cast him out for his betrayal. Who was I to ask him to fight his nature? Perhaps I should have accepted it.” The memories of the alternate timeline rushed back, the final kiss she and Petos shared after so many years apart. The horror on his face when he saw what Zeyra had become. The act of love and understanding when he killed her to rob her of her power to do what she could not. The loss of Mori in their party. The feeling of uneasiness that triggered her declaration of love for him. Conflict. True conflict.