The sun shone brightly, bathing the Ivory Tower in golden light.
Accompanied by a soft breeze, the swaying grass resembled a river of gold, its every motion and wave more mesmerizing than the last. It was a sight that she had never thought she would ever see. Her home had been gray and drab, and the land she had called home for eons after that had been just as bleak.
And yet, here she was, watching the sun once again, a real one this time, after almost two years. She had never doubted him, and yet she couldn't avoid feeling amazed by the fact that he had triumphed once more against the impossible.
Beneath her helmet, the phantom of a smile formed. Of course, he would perform another miracle. It was him, after all.
Saint was standing protectively behind her God, watching carefully for danger.
He was surrounded by those he had once called his cohort, speaking with them about his impending departure toward the dark temple that the floating island was currently hovering before. Most of all, her eyes were set upon the Betrayer, not letting her out of sight for even a second. She had committed the mistake of trusting that accursed woman once, and her God had paid the price for it.
It wouldn't happen again.
With her hands resting over the pommel of her sword, whose tip rested against the floor, she might have looked idle, inattentive. It would take less than a second to strike if any dared threaten him.
"Going alone?" The tall one asked, her tone irksome even to her. "Your girlfriend returns, and you are already ditching us. That's cold."
"Yes, I'm going alone. And she's not my… You know what? I'll pass, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of arguing."
"Are you sure about that? It might be dangerous," the handsome one asked instead, brows scrunched with concern.
God shrugged carelessly and threw a thumb backward in her direction. "Anything that can get to me with Saint watching my back, you guys won't be of help against."
She did not make any outward reaction to the praising words, but internally, she stood prouder.
"What about Neph?" The treacherous oracle voiced a question next, her tone carefully even.
God turned to the petite woman next, his face perfectly neutral, but Saint could easily spot the rage bubbling up beneath.
"I'll manage," he answered succinctly. "Besides, we agreed that one of us has to always be on watch here."
The Betrayer did not speak. Had she, Saint might not have been able to stop her rage from erupting outward. The mere fact that she dared breathe the same air as her God was insult enough on its own.
While they continued speaking, she only listened with half a mind, her attention still focused on the silver-haired woman, carefully noting her every movement in preparation for the moment she would inevitably repeat her sin.
Her attention did not go unnoticed, for the other woman's eyes met hers. Saint couldn't discern anything about her thoughts from her composed face, nor did her eyes betray the treacherous thoughts that must have been running through her mind, but she was sure she saw an understanding within them.
She knew that she was watching. Good.
Saint wanted her to understand the grave mistake she had committed before her life came to an end. She would have already done so, were it not for the fact that God had not issued the order yet.
Why he refused to do so and still entertained her presence was a matter she had given plenty of thought to ever since she had left her God's soul. It was just as she started pondering those two questions once again that the conversation seemed to come to a conclusion.
"I'm going to start from the bottom and climb all the way up. At my pace, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours. I'll keep an eye out the whole time, and if anything dangerous shows up, I'll send one of my shadows to warn you." He glanced over at the archer, a hint of annoyance on his face, though she caught a flicker of affection underneath. "Good enough for you?"
"No. But it's a start," the other man answered good-naturedly.
God rolled his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips before he turned around with a farewell wave and started walking toward the edge of the island facing the Temple.
Saint followed immediately, her eyes never stopping watching the Betrayer as she did.
-------------------------------------------
"This right here is where everything started."
It had not been long since the trek had started, and so far, there was little of note to see. The vegetation was sparse, barely clinging to life against the snow. Oddly shaped rocks could be spotted at random intervals, smoothed by the ravages of the elements over untold years. Last but not least, bones littered the slopes, belonging to creatures she could not recognize at first glance.
Saint's eyes followed God's fingers to the ground. She expected to see something to mark his passing. He was the closest thing to a divine in the current age, after all, and yet she found the stone bare, indistinguishable from any other spot on the mountain.
"Yeah, not the most glamorous of beginnings, right?" he said, smiling self-deprecatingly.
He watched the ground silently, eyes distant. God's body was present, but his mind was visiting a place far away.
For a full minute, he stood there, watching the innocuous ground with razor-sharp focus before he shook his head and resumed walking. Saint matched his gait instantly. At their speed, it did not take more than a few seconds before they lost sight of the place where his journey began.
"I was a slave, starved almost to death, and weak enough that a child could have killed me if they tried hard enough." The revelation came matter-of-factly, as if it had happened to someone else. "Not even five minutes went by before some thug threatened to beat me to death."
At his feet, the shadows -both his and belonging to nature itself- coiled menacingly. They could feel their prince's tumultuous mood and could not help but react.
Not a hitch could be noticed in God's step, and neither did his face change. It was still aimed straight forward, eyes peeled wide open, watching for incoming danger. Saint still saw the tension in his shoulders.
"So much has changed since then. I started as a pathetic slave. I still am, I guess. But I'm also a Saint now. I keep repeating that to myself, and I still can't believe it." He threw a smirk at her that was just a little too tight. "I might even be stronger than you now."
When she lifted her sword in silent challenge, he chuckled and shook his head.
"Sorry, Saint, but we are on a bit of a time constraint." The smirk grew wider. "Though I won't say no to a spar when we are back on the island. I want revenge for all those times you beat me up."
She offered him a nod, more than willing to take him up on the offer.
"Everywhere I go, I see these people staring at me with so much wonder in their eyes, like I'm some sort of god deigning to pay a visit to the puny mortals. Ridiculous, right?"
When God looked in her direction, she nodded, inwardly wondering how he would react if he were aware of her own opinion.
"At least my friends don't act like that. Rain is also acting normally now. Thank the dead gods for that," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "I think I would die of embarrassment if they did the same."
God seemed to remember something, and his expression grew annoyed. "Though I wouldn't complain if Effie acted less like herself. The kind of things that she says about Neph and me…" The annoyance morphed into suspicion. "She's also playing some sort of game. I'm sure of that."
He shook his head and accelerated his pace, as if trying to forcibly banish the thought from his mind.
They kept ascending in silence after that, nothing but the crunching of bone and vegetation accompanying them.
Or at least that was the case until she heard a faint noise coming from further up the slope. It was not long before she heard it again, in greater numbers. The cacophony of hundreds of legs hitting the ground made itself known just a second later.
What came into view was a horde of spider-like Nightmare Creatures, with hulking bodies made of a material that resembled granite and bone mandibles big enough to snap a human of God's size in two with a single crunch.
Saint geared herself for battle immediately, raising her sword high and ringing it against her shield in the traditional call for battle of the Stone Saints.
She advanced without fear, ready to stem their advance before they could reach God. She would have to be careful; with so many, some were bound to slip through, and the Serpent was not as capable as she at guarding him.
Her mind quickly went through countless plans, searching for the most optimal one, the one that would lead to the least risk for her—
Before she could strategize any further, God stepped past her, odachi in hand, and burst into a sprint. Shadows rippled beneath him, and they surged into a tidal wave as black as ink.
It collided with the swarm before he did, stopping them dead in their tracks and killing the front line in the same move. By the time she arrived to reinforce God, he had already killed a good dozen more and kept picking up steam.
Darkness erupted out of her, shrouding her armor and weapons in a thick layer of gloom that started vibrating at a frenetic speed. When her blade came into contact with the torso of one of the spiders, it cut through so cleanly that blood did not even spurt out.
Her arm struck once again, and an edge of darkness formed over her sword's real edge, amplifying its reach to three times the previous length and its sharpness even more.
The creatures right before her fell at her feet in two clean slices, but Saint paid them no heed. Her arms kept moving, slicing and bashing the abominations while she kept watching him fight.
She had been so used to acting as his shield that she had briefly forgotten that he was a Transcendent now. For the first time, their rank was the same. Actually, his class was superior to hers -a Titan where she was a Devil- which meant that he was technically stronger, as he had said before.
Pride swelled in her chest. She had always trusted God to reach the pinnacle of strength, and while he was still far away from achieving such lofty heights, it was heartening to see such a magnificent display.
Competitiveness swelled right after. Her god, he might be, but she would not allow him to win this little competition so easily.
-------------------------------------------
The battle hadn't lasted long. Numbers were the only thing the swarm of spiders had in their favor, and in comparison to the sheer power she and God wielded, it was nothing.
After taking a short break to recover the shards, they had resumed the march, quickly ascending the mountain up to their current location.
The small clearing in which they had stopped was nothing special to Saint.
Sparse vegetation, rocks, and crumbling bones were the only things to be seen, just like in the rest of the mountain.
"Here is where I killed my first Nightmare Creature," God told her, casting his gaze all around. "I was so proud about that, too. It might have been the weakest creature I have ever killed, but still." He smirked briefly. "Not bad for an outskirts rat, right?"
She followed his gaze, perhaps hoping that she would spot some remnant of the glorious battle he must have partaken in, yet finding none. It had all been a pantomime built by the Spell, after all.
A complicated expression appeared on his face as he pointed at a small stone outcropping next. "That's where I killed my first human. He was a bastard through and through, whipped me just for accepting water from another soldier."
He chuckled bitterly.
"It's a little funny in a sad sort of way." His fists closed painfully tight. "I have faced worse and for far longer, and yet this one flash of pain has stuck with me so far." His fists opened, but the rage bubbling beneath did not disappear. "I might forget that bastard's face, but I will remember that damn whip forever."
He exhaled heavily, forcibly letting the rage bleed out of him. "And yet, a part of me still feels sad about the fact that I don't regret killing him at all."
On his outstretched hand, a beautiful silver bell appeared. God rang it, and a melodious chime echoed faintly all across the clearing. His face passed through many expressions when he heard it, memories running at a breakneck pace through his mind.
"What do you think, Saint? Does that make me evil? The fact that I felt nothing? That I shed no tears nor lost any sleep about that fact?"
Saint shrugged, holding no strong opinion about that. She would have killed him herself for daring to strike her God. In her eyes, it was nothing but justice to put him down.
"You don't care, huh?" he asked, amusement coloring his voice. "Yeah, I get where you are coming from. In the end, I killed my slaver without any doubt or remorse."
The self-deprecating smile returned once more.
"Pity I cannot bring myself to repeat the feat, isn't it, Saint?"
Another chuckle escaped him, so low she almost missed it.
God looked straight into her eyes, his own shining darkly under the last rays of the sun. "You know… whenever I think about the power she holds over me, I can feel it. The sting of that damn whip."
This time, the one to clench fists painfully tight was her. To think that she could make him suffer like that without even being present…
Darkness started leaking from beneath her armor, embracing her armored form like an old friend, singing sweetly about the revenge she would deliver in her God's name. It would be glorious, something she had been dreaming about for a long, long time and was now within her reach at last.
As if capable of reading her thoughts, God smiled fondly and then shook his head. "Don't."
Instead of receding, the darkness grew deeper, hungrier. The one who had caused him so much pain was just a few minutes of flight away, spitting on every kindness he had ever offered her with the mere act of continuing to breathe.
Why?
Why would her God tolerate the continued existence of such a vile being?
"Do you hate Nephis?" he asked calmly, his face revealing no hint of what answer he was looking for.
She nodded without pause, and the darkness engulfing her grew deeper still, its edges fraying the stone beneath her feet in her rage.
God regarded her dark form without surprise, having already expected such an answer. "So do I."
Then why? She did not voice the question, yet he answered it nonetheless.
"What's the point?" he asked in a whisper. His voice was even, but his face was not. "It's… It's not something I will enjoy. Neither will it bring me peace, I'm sure of that."
His voice dropped lower, almost silent. "I'm starting to think that nothing will."
God's gaze roamed across the clearing, taking in the littered bones and barren vegetation. "Even if I did enjoy it, what's next if I kill her? My sister, my friends, the world itself, they will all hate me for it." A self-deprecating smile returned to his face. "After all, who would pick the outskirts rat over the radiant Changing Star? I will be alone all over again."
Had she been worthy of speaking to him, she would have answered: "If they would rather pick the Betrayer over you, then they deserve death just as much as she does."
Instead, Saint pointed at the shadows pooling at his feet, at the Serpent tattoo peeking beneath his sleeves, and finally at herself.
God did not answer immediately. He stood still, deep in thought, gaze lost on the setting sun in the distance. For a long time, he remained silent, and when he finally turned back to her, she felt a foreboding sensation settling in her chest.
"Hey, Saint…"
She tilted her head in his direction, immediately noticing the hitch in his voice.
"Do you hate me?"
For a moment, she did not understand. Had she heard right? Had God made the wrong question by mistake?
When she stared into his eyes in search of confirmation, she found that yes, she had heard right, and no, he had not asked the wrong thing.
Saint blinked, confusion bleeding through her body language despite the control she usually carried. That question was as unexpected as it was ridiculous.
Why would she hate God? He had been nothing but kind to her, cured her of corruption, brought her new purpose, made her stronger, made the dark and dreary world she had lived in all her life so bright it almost blinded her. What reason could she have to hate him?
"I did the same thing to you that she did to me, didn't I? Maybe worse." He paused, looking aside. "I killed you and then brought you back to fight my fights for me without asking for your consent. You are bound to me in a way that I don't even know if it can be undone. That might never be undone. I keep ordering you around, making you do things that you might not want to do, drag you into my messes. I keep thanking you, professing my care for you, but a kind master is still a master."
He turned back to her, vulnerability painted vividly on his face. "Please, be honest with me, Saint. Do you hate me?"
She found herself at a loss for how to react.
Had God truly been plagued by such a question? By the idea that he had taken by force what she offered freely? That she saw her second chance at life as a chain? That she would hate him?
She was not worthy of speaking to him. Even if she were, she wouldn't have.
Instead of speaking worthless words that couldn't carry even an ounce of the truth she carried, she closed the distance between them and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Saint?"
Upon hearing the trembling in his voice, her arms grew tighter, as if to crush the poisonous thoughts that made him think like that.
When it became clear that she wouldn't let go, tentatively, his own arms rose to return the embrace. Just as tightly, and with a desperation that made her chest ache.
"You… you won't leave me, will you, Saint?" he asked in a shaky voice.
Her arms only grew tighter.
-------------------------------------------
"This is our second-to-last stop."
Sunny stepped inside the cave, his composure perfect despite the goosebumps he could already feel. Behind him, Saint followed, remaining close enough to react immediately to any danger.
Briefly, a smile tugged at his lips when he remembered what had happened earlier. Saint had never given him reason to doubt, but a part of him had, only to be proven wrong.
Shaking the comforting thought away, he focused back on what was before him.
For a moment, he just stood there.
The cave was almost as he remembered it. Time had worn it down. The edges of the stone were softer, the ground more uneven. Thin strands of cobweb clung to the corners, trembling faintly in the breeze.
A memory came to mind: lying on the cold stone, desperately waiting for the poison to take effect. The confrontation, Auro's rotten conviction, and how close he had come to being killed by him. The Mountain King.
He cast the memory away as soon as it came. He had killed Auro. Twice, at that. And if he had the chance, he would gladly do it again.
Sunny allowed his gaze to roam around the cave, finding it just as bare as it had seemed at first glance.
Just as his eyes were about to drift away from a wall, he spotted it, the glow of divinity. So small he almost missed it.
His sight shifted, and the glow expanded, revealing a whole weaving that formed a pattern that was as complicated as it was simple to understand.
A sardonic smile found its way to his face even as a sense of foreboding settled in his chest.
Sunny gave Saint a nod to be ready and manifested two avatars before cautiously stepping closer. With each meter, the sensation only seemed to increase. Every shift of the shadows spiked his adrenaline, and even his breath sounded thunderous in his ears.
It was almost with relief that he reached the golden weaving. Before he could think twice, he took hold of one of the strings and pulled.
The wall shone brightly, and the stone started shifting. Saint was by his side immediately, and so were his avatars, but no danger came.
Instead, a message appeared on the wall, writing itself so fast it was done before he could even blink.
A nameless slave ascended the Black Mountain. Both heroes and monsters fell by his hand. Unbroken, he entered the ruined temple of a long-forgotten god and spilled his blood on the sacred altar. The gods were dead, and yet they listened.
Word for word, his appraisal at the end of the First Nightmare was written on the wall. He had held little doubt before, but now? He had zero. This was Weaver's doing.
Nameless he may no longer be, and even gods have fallen before his might, but a slave, adorned or not, remains a slave.
Definitely Weaver. Few could manage to make him so furious with such a small amount of words.
Congratulations are in order, my epigone.
Despite defying my instructions, you have succeeded. I might have felt pride if I did not know you acted only to oppose me.
No matter. You have returned. That alone tells me you endured a being that could give even me pause, for a single second, that is. Though I'm aware that I cannot hold to such lofty standards a creature as puny and witless as you.
He really wanted to punch Weaver in the face. Repeatedly.
Your unworthiness aside, I will ask you what truly matters.
Have you discovered them? The chains.
The serpents of Fate, coiled around you, feeding without end. Every thought, every choice, already accounted for. You can feel it, don't you? That narrowing path. That sense that no matter where you turn, you are only walking where you were always meant to fall.
Fate is not your ally. It is not your maker. It does not care for you.
You are less to it than a blade of grass is to you.
If you have not realized this by now, then your foolishness might very well have no cure.
My time wanes, so I will not waste it on what cannot be repaired. Instead, I offer a reminder and a warning.
The reminder is simple: become famous. Let your name spread until it cannot be ignored. Only then will you have a chance.
The warning is simpler still: turn back. Now.
Leave the mountain. Forget about it. Bury every memory of the Temple at its peak. Erase it from your mind as though it never existed.
Nothing awaits you at the top but death.
For once in your existence, be a good boy and run back to your master before it's too late.
Sunny took a deep breath, fighting to keep the rage bubbling in his chest under wraps.
First, the book back in the Temple of the Twin Gods, then his appraisal at the end of the Third Nightmare, and now this. It was like the bastard couldn't communicate with him without being as belittling as possible.
When his eyes landed again on the last line, he had to take another deep breath to not explode in anger.
That was what Weaver wanted; he was certain of that fact. The bastard intended for him to do exactly the opposite. The last line alone already proved it.
Except that he was sure that even if he did listen, he would be playing straight into Weaver's plans. It was the same problem as with Fate. It was whispering right now, urging him to climb to the peak. He simply couldn't tell if their intention was for him to listen or not.
How could he compete with them? Spell, how could he even figure out what they really wanted? They were both so far beyond him it was not even funny. It was as if they were playing a game of chess whose proportions were so absurdly big that he couldn't even see the squares of the board.
He could follow all their instructions. He could follow none. Both would mean playing right into their hands.
With that conclusion in mind, there was only one answer.
Sunny refused to play.
He was going to do what he wanted to do, no more, no less. Whether it coincided with their instructions or not, he would still pick whichever option he wanted to pick.
If that led him against what was planned for him? Great. If not? He had still made that choice all on his own and would have no one to blame but himself.
His eyes traced the last line once more, and a cold snort escaped him.
A wave of his hand manifested a sledgehammer that crashed against the wall, destroying the message left by Weaver and sending countless fragments of stone flying.
Without giving it a second glance, Sunny made a gesture for Saint to follow and walked out of the cave. He resumed the ascent without thinking twice.
He had come here to investigate the temple at the top, and that's what he would do.
-------------------------------------------
Under the silver light of the moon, a slave finished his ascent.
Not even three years had passed, and yet he felt as if a lifetime had gone by since he last set foot in this place.
The Forgotten Shore. The Tears. Aleras. And now back here.
A more poetic soul might have found something beautifully ironic in that fact. He only felt as if the chains binding him were all the heavier.
Sunny exhaled slowly, watching his breath condense before him as he continued advancing. Snow crunched beneath his feet, bringing back memories he would rather leave untouched.
Limping his way forward, the horrible pain, the cold, moving on nothing but a stubborn refusal to die, the dark temple in the distance, so close yet so far at the same time.
A chuckle escaped him against his will.
"What a dreary place," he said, despite the spark of nostalgia arising in his chest.
Sunny cast a glance around the peak, easily finding the ruined temple in the distance, as well as the Ivory Tower hovering silently before it. He gave a wave, and while he was a little too far to be sure, he was almost certain that Kai returned it.
Putting that thought aside, he resumed walking, making a straight line toward the building in the distance.
An odachi bloomed out of the shadows, falling right into his grasp. He had already summoned the [Onyx Shell], as well as the [Crown of Wrath] and the [Mantle of Darkness].
If death awaited him here, then he would meet it steel in hand.
Behind him, he felt Saint ready herself too, elemental darkness rolling out of her in waves, creating a shroud around her that he could perceive thanks to the mantle.
Shortly after, he found himself before the Temple, mere meters separating him from the entrance. Right at that moment, he felt it. Sunny perceived its fearful aura, radiating menace and power in equal measure.
The guardian was here, the very same invisible custodian that had let him pass back during his First Nightmare.
How long had it been guarding this place?
How many eras had come and gone while this creature stood vigil before a monument that was long past its glory days?
He pondered those questions and many more as he took another step forward.
Sunny was on guard. Weaver's message had made sure of that.
That was the only reason he managed to dodge in the nick of time when the guardian attacked him without warning.