Fantasy That Time the Demon Lord Killed our Party Leader: Ic

[Nessi]

Life is Worth Living

Nergal

Mortals have always been little pathetic things, and Nergal knew this better than anyone.

They all had short, insignificant lives, and constantly fought amongst themselves for things that didn’t really matter. Even the dragons, a species made in the great mothers image, were nothing more rats that scurried around in caves.
Nergal was born from the filth and depravity that existed in all mortals, and when he first opened his eyes, he understood that his purpose was to snuff out the existence of every last one of those little little shits.

Yet every time he descended from the heavens, and spread diseases intended to wipe them out for good, they always resisted, found ways to adapt and overcome his plagues.


Now, Nergal’s gaze was fixated on Arrian, who held the spear of yet another filthy mortal made god. He went to lift his weapons to block the incoming attacks, but found his movement restricted by chains of pure mercury, courtesy of Nohea.
“Mortals may be weak, and our lives are mere drops in the bucket compared to gods, but that’s where our strength lies! Every precious second matters to us, and we’ll do anything to protect the little time we’re blessed with!” a familiar voice yelled in Nergal’s head. “Even when I’m long gone, there’ll be someone to stop you, a mortal brave enough to put you down no matter the era!”

Nergal knew that he was looking at Arrian, but what he saw was not the rugged hero’s face, but rather the color of their soul. It shined brightly, with a golden luster that reminded the plague god of the only mortal to have ever bested him in combat one on one, the only other being to have a soul that shined like gold.

The Eternal King Paimon.

There was no cry of pain nor roar of defiance when the Gae Bolg pierced through Nergal’s body, heart and all. His golden lion mace and rotten sword clang to the ground, as his entire body began to crumble into ashes. There would be no second chances for him, the only thing that awaited him in heaven was a swift death.
Nergal tried to think of something to say, a putrid insult or a curse he could place upon one of the heroes before his vessel faded, but nothing came. Instead, he simply looked down, and let himself embrace death.


In a single moment, the Well went from a cacophony of noise, to complete and utter silence. All that remained of the plague god was his weapons, and a putrid green gem that glowed softly in a pile of ash.

 

[CasualTea]

Hjartasorrow

Rohen Fuyuumi, "The Mad Orca"

Interactions: Nessi LazyDaze Worthlessplebian

Mentions: N/A

As Rohen stood ready to land the final strike, she just watched something totally unreal. Aaxir seriously just confessed his love for Eleanor, a human? She couldn't believe all the sweet words Aaxir was saying, especially to that form. And then the most ridiculous thing just happened. Aaxir actually took Rohen's pure sarcasm as real advice and kissed the being he was holding so dear. She was flabbergasted. Completely gobsmacked. It was so ridiculous that it actually... broke her into laughing. "Aha..?! Ahahahaha..!! What the fuck?! Aaxir, you--" Immediately, she had to stop as she saw Hajun reaching out to Aaxir. "Aaxir, move!" She raised her blade quickly in order to finish off the demon but halted when he seemed to plunge his fist into his chest. Something was going on. Was Eleanor still alive in there then?

She stood there in silence waiting for something to happen. Just what the Hell was going on with that thing? Some sort of internal struggle? Is Hajun just trying a new way to attack them without them knowing? Were they being duped? That was until the body burst into some kind of negative energy that made Rohen have to resist its force. It was almost as if she could be blown away from it, but she held firm. Once it was over, a figure stood in front of them. It was Hajun. Wait a minute, that's not right. No this was different. They looked similar, in terms of demonic characteristics but the form and figure... Seemed the opposite. It was a woman. A very sharp contrast from what she had just battled before. But the most important thing about her that she could pick out was that she didn't seem to be a threat. If anything, she felt familiar. Someone close. Someone she knew. There was a sense of familiarity about her that caused Rohen to hesitate from raising her blade once more. It was actually calling to her, screaming at her to put her blade down. That she needn't fight anymore.

Then the being spoke. She spoke Aaxir's name with a voice that rang all too familiar in Rohen's ear. And the way they talked, the words they used... This was Eleanor.

From what she could gander from her new appearance, she was no longer just a human. She was something else. Probably an effect caused by that wretched demon Hajun. Perhaps she is now a demon? But it was still Eleanor. There was no denying it. This was the person whom they wanted to save in the first place. Someone Rohen failed to realize in her blind fit of rage just a minute ago. Who was now crying on the ground they stood on. She sighed before looking off to her side at Tiberius who was also ready to strike. "Tiberius, my friend." She called out, almost exhaustedly. "...Stand down. We're done." She let out a long exhale as she stood at ease and sheathed her sword. The audible sound of the blade brushing against the sheath's walls before ending with a metallic clang at the hilt was all that filled this ambient silence. Just like that, Rohen's adrenaline, her rage and bloodlust; all of it had died leaving her conflicted and a sore throat. Her sharp and focused eyes that were once filled with rage and commitment softened and dulled, looking upon Eleanor's new form with a bitter acceptance.

Was it because Eleanor was now a demon that she pitied her? Or was she hurting that she almost just killed one of their allies, especially one she considered a friend? The display of weakness Eleanor was showing in this exact moment felt genuine which made her heart sink, and yet there was nothing she could do. There was nobody to lash out at or anything she could do to cope with this feeling. She hated it yet she had to accept the new reality. There was a silence in the Well, other than Eleanor's faint but frightened breathing from whatever she thought was going to come. She knew she told Aaxir that she'd strike should Hajun regain his footing. But all that stood before her was a newly born demon, leaving herself completely defenseless and was willing to receive death at the hands of her fellow comrades if she still considers them as such.

She soon took a step closer to the two and hit Aaxir's shoulder lightly as to get his attention. "You take care of her, Aaxir." She spoke. "She's your responsibility now. I was only here for Hajun." She then walked away from the group to go clear her head. Although she didn't know her for long, the scene of Yi Nuo's death weighed heavily on her. Especially with its uncanny resemblance to Arlux's, it reopened many wounds. Tiamat kept silent throughout the whole ordeal and allowed Rohen to organize her thoughts so she can reel herself back in. It was something only Rohen could do by herself, though Tiamat felt that Rohen should consult with another member to share in their troubles. She leaned against a nearby wall and crossed her arms, letting out a sigh as she closed her eyes to... meditate. To take inventory of her thoughts. To silently grieve once more for a fallen ally whose name will be another addition to what she would have to commit to memory.

Even so, she could still feel that Tiamat had something to say, yet she was keeping it from her. "...Spill." She said. "...You're fine with sparing her?" Tiamat asked. As a deity, she could understand that there were responsibilities of the divine that they must uphold. Ridding the world of demons is essentially engraved into every other living species' minds as they walk upon this floating ball in the universe. It was quite common to view demons in a negative light and must be avoided and rejected. But the demon that was in front of her was different. They were a former comrade and apparently, a love interest of another. To Rohen, she only had one reason to draw her blade. To kill Hajun. But now that he was gone, so was the reason. There was also another thing that weighed on her. "Eleanor seems sane enough, she knows what she did. But whether or not she truly wants to meet God isn't up to me." Tiamat wasn't physically there, but if she were, she would have squinted and given one of the most confused expressions Rohen could imagine. "Is this another one of those things... You humans say to express death?" Rohen just offered a shrug before she continued. "Anyway, I feel the one who should take her there should be the one who is more intimate."

"...You mean--" "That damned dragon." "I know you despise him because of that encounter but even for you that's..." "If anyone should walk Eleanor down the aisle of death, it should be someone whom she has feelings for. You heard it too, right? He wouldn't say such sweet nothings like that especially if it was one sided. It sounded like an answer to one's question. If I'm right then that means Eleanor had taken a liking to the dragon for some reason." "...You should retire and be a matchmaker after the war." Tiamat joked, seemingly trying to uplift Rohen's spirit a tad bit. It worked though. Rohen did crack a scoff and a smirk. "Let the two figure it out. If the dragon-shit can't handle it, he can always call me back and he'll have to owe me two times. I know you'll help me conjure up the resolve to do that if it should, right?" She asked even though she knew the answer. But even then, she still wanted assurance from her patron.

"...Certainly, child."

 

[Nessi]

Emil/Sacrifice

Broken Cycle

As the dust settled, and both the presence of both Nergal and Hajun faded into nothingness, the heroes finally felt the cold grasp of exhaustion hit their bodies, many of them crumbling to the ground. What they had done was a feat only a handful of mortals had accomplished, they beat a god in combat.

Nohea, amazed that he was still alive, crumbled to the floor, blood leaking from his eyes as a consequence of having pushed his body to the limit. His shaky hands reached to his side, attempting to retrieve a much needed mana potion, however it immediately slipped out of his hands once he tried to lift the ornate glass bottle to his lips.
The glass bottle did not shatter though, instead it had been caught by a large, tanned hand that belonged to none other than the Eternal King, freed from his stone prison. Without saying a word, Paimon lifted the glass bottle to Nohea’s lips, and ensured that the chief of the isles got every last drop.
“How was your nap? I’m sure it was nice to get to watch a fight without participating.” Nohea remarked with a measly chuckle.
“About as well as you can imagine…do you know where Eleanor is?” Paimon asked.
“It’s hard not to know where she is, after all a few moments ago her possessed body was tossing the heroes aside like children. You’ll find her outside on one of the platforms, but brace yourself, she’s changed.” Nohea explained.

Paimon nodded, and quickly rushed out of the entrance, and through strength alone, leapt to where Eleanor was, his heart sinking as he witnessed her new form. The moment his feet hit the ground, Eleanor turned, and when they both locked eyes it was as if they were exchanging 1000 words without speaking a single one.

“Paimon, I-”
“It’s not your fault, Eleanor.” Paimon interrupted, taking a step closer to Eleanor. “You are not to blame for what occurred here, I am the one to blame.”
“But I’m a monster now! You’re just coming here to finish off this evil once and for all!” Eleanor shouted.
Paimon merely shook his head, a soft smile forming on his face. “You might have grown a pair of horns, and gotten a little taller…but you are no monster, and my affection for you has not dwindled even a little.” Paimon said.
The Eternal king stepped in to embrace his hero, to finally end this cycle of hatred, death and revenge once and for all and close the book that was the 3d demon kings existence.

Instead, Paimon was hit with a blast of energy that sent him flying in a matter of seconds. Before he could fly off the platform, a wall would suddenly shoot from the ground, catching him, but simultaneously knocking the wind from his lungs.
The culprit of the sudden attack appeared at first to be from Rohen, but quickly it became apparent that the mad orca was not to blame for the blast, but rather a watery hand that was jutting out of her metal arm.
“That is a dangerous game to play, too dangerous even by your standards Paimon.” A voice only familiar to Rohen announced.
Water began to flow profusely from Rohen’s metal arm, gathering towards the center of the platform. The water began to mold itself, shape itself, until what stood at the center was a woman whose hair flowed and sparkled like the universe itself, and whose eyes were covered by a sort of mask. Immediately, all the heroes saw their patron gods manifest and kneeled towards the being before them.

For the first time in eons, Tiamat had manifested herself into the mortal realm.

The all mother lifted her hand, and immediately bound Eleanor to the ground with chains made purely of water.
“Stop.” Tiamat commanded. All Heroes and gods who were within earshot lost their ability to move their limbs. Eleanor strained her neck against the chain pulling it down, and locked her eyes unto Tiamat, a whirlwind of emotions flowing through her body.
“You all have fought long and hard, and in the end triumphed against evil. However, I cannot allow Eleanor to live, or what's left of her.” Tiamat announced. “Demons were a naturally violent race that knew nothing but death and dest-”

Liar.

“They scarred the lands, fighting anything that came in their path fo-”

Liar.

“I tried to find peace with demons, to negotiate with them, and in return they slaughtered my children in co-”


Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.Liar.

Those words replayed endlessly as memories began to flash in Eleanor's head, each one contradicting every statement that came out of Tiamat's mouth.
“You’re a Liar.” Eleanor said bluntly, causing Tiamant to completely stop talking.
“Look for yourselves, the powers of the 3rd demon king have corrupted her through and through. You’re a danger to yourself, and those around you Eleanor. This is the only way.” Tiamat said somberly.
“That might work on the others, but you know I won’t believe you for a second.” Eleanor growled.
Tiamat lifted her hand, once more, and 4 spears of water formed above Eleanor, and immediately began to fly towards her vital points.
Eleanor closed her eyes, and braced for what was to come.

And yet, instead of death, Eleanor heard the crack of a whip, followed by someone landing in front of her. She opened her eyes, and was taken aback at who had come to her rescue.

The god of truth and justice, Veritas.

“Son, stand aside.” Tiamat ordered, manifesting 3 more spears over her head.
Veritas flinched slightly, but did not falter. “Mother, this farce of yours has gone on long enough. You can end this pointless cycle right now. Come forth, and tell the truth of what happened, the truth about demons, the tru-”
Tiamat fired her spears off, and once more Veritas used his blade to deflect all 3 of the projectiles.
“You know you can’t beat me, either you move or you die.” Tiamat stated.
Veritas raised his blade, and closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. “By the power invested in me as the god of truth and justice, I have seen your crimes, and have reached a verdict. The genocide of the demon race, the manipulation of the memories of other gods, there is only one punishment for you now.” Veritas declared. His golden robes were enveloped by a dark purple glow, and now, the god of justice wore what could only be described as the black garb of the executioner.

“Death.”

Veritas was the first to go on the offensive, dashing in and thrusting his blade towards Tiamat’s throat.
Tiamat dodged the attack, but was forced to block the whip strike that followed immediately after.
“The demon race were never born evil, they came into existence from the excess energy left behind from the various beasts amongst the stars that El slayed.” Veritas said in between the cracks of his whips.
Tiamat continued to play on the defensive, evading attack and conjuring barriers of water when needed. “Are you going to continue your meaningless rant, or is there a point you’d wish to reach?” Tiamat groaned. With a single swipe of her hand, the ground below Veritas shot upwards quickly, launching him into the air. She then clenched her fist, and rock and debris flew toward the god of justice in an attempt to crush him.
Veritas brought his blade back into one, and cut up the debris as it flew at him. “All of your creations, everything that stems from you, must follow your orders. But demons were the only race exempt from your control, and that made you scared. You tried to ask them to willingly come under your dominion, and when they rejected your offer you waged war against them.” Veritas revealed. His blade once more turned into a whip, and it quickly wrapped itself around a sizable rock, before launching it at Tiamat. “You had us kill so many of them, they chose to flee to the safety of the underworld, where Pluto promised them safety so long as they remained within the confines of his realm…but that wasn’t good enough for you. So you offered them a chance at peace, lured out the 2nd demon king baal and had Pele murder him in front of his own brother, as well as any remaining demons that came to witness the making of history. And to ensure that nobody would question your decisions, you altered everyone's memories, and wiped the existence of the demon race from the minds of mortals and gods alike. You’re actions and abuse of power are what made the 3rd demon king what he was, the blood on his hands stains yours a-”

“SILENCE!” Tiamat roared, her mighty voice shaking the well violently. Her next attack had no build up, nor could the coalescence of mana even be faintly detected. It came like lightning, and in a blink of an eye, Veritas’s sword arm, left foot and right eye were blown off, causing him to immediately fall to the ground.
Tiamat approached Veritas, a watery blade forming in her hand. “I told you that you couldn’t beat me.” she reminded, lifting her sword high above her head.
Veritas stared at Tiamat, breathing heavily as golden blood dripped from his wounds. Despite his wounds, his face was not one filled with the fear of death, but rather it was his same, calm expression, like everything was going according to plan. “Something my daughter taught me is that misdirection is a powerful weapon.” Veritas croaked. Then, for the first time in a long time, since the birth of his daughter, Veritas did something extremely out of character.

A faint smile crept on his face.

“I didn’t need to beat you. I just needed to awaken the memories dormant in my brothers and sisters. Good luck.” Veritas revealed.
As if on queue, a golden beam of light would crash into Tiamat, and knock her two platforms away. This wasn’t a spell however, it was a furious Inanna, tightly gripping her scepter. She charged forward once again, switching from her scepter to the unbreakable scimitar.
“Stop!” Tiamat commanded, but Inanna’s blade still slammed into her, launching her farther than she had gone before.
“Go to hell!” Inanna roared, charging at Tiamat for the 3rd time.
Tiamat lifted her hand to cast a spell, but both her hands were pinned to a wall via golden daggers.
In mid air, Inanna brandished her strongest weapon, the realm destroying axe, and heaved it above her head.

Inanna slammed down upon Tiamat, but stopped her axe when it was merely inches away from Tiamat.
“Mercy isn’t your specialty.” Tiamat jeered.
“This isn’t mercy.” Inanna spat back, lifting her axe away from Tiamat. “We have a job to do…but after? You’ll atone for your sins one way or another, Tiamat.”

 

[Beann]

Suzuki Kaida

‘A touching moment.’ Inari Okami mused as the goddess witnessed the interaction between Aaxir and Hajun — or Eleanor. Kaida watched silently, her large tails swishing as she remained in her divine synchronization, waiting just like Rohen and Tiberius to see if things would go awry. Luckily for the group, Eleanor remained strong, signaling the end to the Hajun and Nergal encounter. The kitsune returned to her original form, letting out a small sigh of relief as she sheathed her katana. Exhaustion washed over her and she was just about ready to drop to her knees before another commotion erupted. She caught a brief image of Eleanor's patron god being sent off the platform by a strong burst of water. Her attention shifted to the culprit and her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Rohen, or rather, Tiamat, as the goddess took form.

Panic quickly set in as Kaida realized she could not move, only observe. The sight of Inari Okami kneeling down to Tiamat was unsettling, considering her own goddess was fairly stubborn. The question as to why Tiamat had decided to take form was quickly answered as the goddess explained to the heroes that Eleanor mustn't be left alive. Kaida’s muscles tensed as she looked over to her friend chained down before Tiamat, as if she had done wrong to be put on trial before them all. She spoke about demons and their destructive and violent nature, insisting that Eleanor must not be made an exception. Has her friend been corrupted? The change in her form was apparent but as was the moment she and Aaxir shared. There was no deceit or ulterior motives.

Eleanor was Eleanor.

Unfortunately, it would seem as Tiamat had no intention of delivering a fair and just trial, leaving all of them to watch as the goddess sent forth spears of execution. Kaida closed her eyes, not wanting to witness the death of her friend. However, the crack of a whip and the sound of another voice forced her to open her eyes once more. The kitsune watched as Veritas stood against the all mother, unraveling the truth in which they were all kept from. Tiamat was at fault and it seemed that was the general consensus as she watched Inanna attack the goddess as well. Veritas was right. Death was the only suitable punishment for such crimes. Kaida continued to watch, expecting the goddess of war to finish her off but to her surprise, she backed off.

“What…?” Kaida muttered in disapproval. “So we are just… going to ignore this? Come back to it another time?” Inari Okami looked over at her chosen, her eyebrows furrowing as she offered the young kitsune a look that clearly said: ‘cease!’ However, all the information that was presented to them came together like pieces of a puzzle and Kaida was furious. “So many died because of you…” She looked at the all mother with disdain. “It wasn’t just demons. So many of us —! Your creations! So many of us died because of you! And for what? Because you couldn’t have your way?”

The kitsune looked around at the rest of her companions, hoping they would share the same sentiment as her. “Arlux is dead. Yī Nuò is dead. We nearly lost Eleanor and Tiberius! There shouldn’t be an after or later — she should pay NOW!”

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Tiberius Helvian, Longinus

He stood. More still than the slumped form of their foe, spear in hand, waiting for Aaxir's desperate plea to blossom or wither. A silent sentinel — pitch as the starless, moonless depths of the longest night — whose vigil seemed to stand unimpeded for longer eons. Only the dark, loveless shroud cascading from his shoulders shifted, wafting gently, unconcerned by wind or pull. Not even the howls of exhaustion tugged at his limbs, taut muscles burning, rejuvenated by mystics and Will alike. He wondered nowt, only watching the motionless figure that had paraded about in Eleanor's half-morphed body as though the slit of his black helm, a pale ivory flame flitting about, was burning a hole through it. Then it twitched. The gladiator shifted swifter than a shuddering heart's half-beat. He had raised his shield, his spear, fingers flexing. His heart quieted, the tattoo blaring in his ears died to a whisper-almost mute. His night-besieged eyes focused solely on the resting form. Then he felt it before he heard it. A violent wave of vile malevolence blasted from the mercurial daemon, sending palls of dust from marble, smothering the sounds of the Heroes, battering against Tiberius' shield, cracking like a metallic whip through the air.

He heard her form changed: bones grating as they lengthened beneath her tight, pale skin; muscles and tendons snapping, reknit anew. Abruptly, it was over. The coronal ring of malice was expelled around them, but as it faded, Tiberius swore he heard a shriek, lingering, dying in the echo of the tide. Of revenge denied, of calamity cursed and brought to heel, of fury doused.

The gladiator blinked, groaning as his shoulders rolled, muscles aching. From the ashen coil, she rose. Her form towering. Wicked horns, darker than the deepest seas, protruding 'neath the flowing rivulets of her gray hair, her skin festooned with jagged scales of obsidian lustre, a thick pronged-tail batted at the ground once, flattening the trailing dust. The similarities, however, shone brighter because of the differences. But her eyes, gleaming with unholy potency, were twisted with grief. Not of deed enacted, but of a bleaker portent to come, recognition flared like a forest aflame.

He heard Rohen speak, the Mad Orca's words hanging perilously in the battle-riven air. Tiberius' helm shifted, glancing at the mercenary. "No." His arms fell to his sides, but did not loosen. He did not relent. "It isn't." Tiberius cautioned, voice cold and hard, dull and tired, low and slow. The butt of his spear tapped the ground, a blunt thud echoing after the metallic clang of a sheathing sword. What awaits them, he does not know, but Tiberius feels a teeth-itching scratch in his skull, scraping as though with rusted claws the length of arms. Somehow, it felt familiar. And that knowledge galled him.

He peered over his shoulder as the Eternal King paced over to ensconce Eleanor in a warming embrace, one to dispel the worries plaguing her mind. Until he saw Rohen's metal prosthesis jut up, creaking in the silence. Tiberius spun, arm reeled back to toss his divine spear at the distending prosthetic. But he couldn't, his body seized beneath an intangible force, an unending instance of his act. And he knew who caused this.

A pillar of energy erupted towards Paimon, sending him hurtling through the air. The water from her limb surged forward, flowing into the centre, bulging and assuming a form fine-hewn by the right of her divinity. Locks gleaming in the wan light as if hundreds of white stars condensed into thinnest threads. The revulsion in her obscured eyes not inscrutable by the mask she affected. Though he had never seen her, he knew her identity. Tiamat, The Shaper and Farer, the Mistress of the Firmament Sea. His muscles yanked at his jaw, twitched in his arm. Still, he could not move, could not struggle. And with a single utterance, his arrested form was deadened completely. And in this accursed Well, the gladiator saw the Goddess take form, kneeling in the presence of her Mother. His eyes wheeled down as the shadows that clung to the corners, crooks, crevices, and arches of the Well coalesced, drawing into a figure before him. Her hair had been wild, unconstrained in the space around her, flowing endlessly, tortuous onto and out of itself. But gone were the soft lights, glittering inbetwixt the coiling threads, gone was the radiance that once bathed him — in its place, only a silver sadness that illuminated, but never warmed. She did not look at him. But still, he quested for her thoughts. "Qin." He called once. She never turned.

The grievous atrocity was being carried out, a perfect portrayal of injustice conducted and performed within Tiamat's court by the monarch, above the Gods, herself. However, heralded by the crack of whip against stone, a gavel against blessed oak came the God of Justice and unveiled the barbarity shrouded eons ago. Tiberius appreciated the intervention, but soon his mind was plagued by the echo of Parzival's memory ringing in his mind. One of the certainties in Tiamat's creations had been this incessant need for slaughter — the sins of the parent inherited by the offspring. Veritas fell, but the shroud that pervaded over the Gods' mind had been torn and the Goddess of War rectified that unjustness. Her great axe hovered like a silent, primeval beast, jaws clamped around the throat of its victim, before it was dragged back by Inanna herself.

The gladiator was released, the force which halted him undone. He paced to Qin, kneeling down beside her. Her gaze remained fixed, unmoved by the chaos around her. Though Tiberius' gaze lingered, he did not stare, instead turning towards the Mother of Seas.

"You knew." He did not ask, it was never a question.

"Yes." She replied, her thoughts slashed with regret like a dread spectre hanging above her. Her hands tightened, knuckles pressing into the Well's roughened marble. "I always did." She went on, the soothing melody that rang in her voice like a hymnal bell, the voice that flowed like poetry sung was now stilted, resounding like a groaning death knell. Tiberius' gaze wheeled down, setting down the spear beside her. "It has hounded me all these centuries. A God's recollection can be accursedly infallible, though some could choose to forget. I could not. Never that." Her tone a mournful gale winnowing in his mind. "There is no atonement for that inaction, even if it kept them safe." His arm reached slowly, warping through her splayed hair, gently coiling around her. He felt the chill of her skin through the sleeve of black metal on his armour. "Why did you stop me before?" They both spoke, words mirroring in their minds, anticipated. "It saved you." "It was my life to give." "Is it?" She gestured. Tiberius knew where she pointed without following her gesture, but before he rose, he saw Polux's thudding footfalls behind him. He half-turned at the dreadnaught, head inclining, his armour had been sullen and dirtied by the rigours of a fetid battle. The gladiator nodded and went up.

He walked slowly over to Kaida, her sentiments ringing true. Tiberius placed a hand on her shoulder, motion as gentle as the first speck of snow caressing the earth. "Breathe with me." He suggested, measuring his breath to a calm, leveled rhythm before stepping beside her fully. "For the ramifications of her deeds, the sentence must be absolute." Tiberius agreed, his voice unwavering, clear in the depth of the chamber, but not loud. A well-measured tone that filled the silence. "She cannot be spared, if she is, she will threaten all. Not only us, who stood with Eleanor here, but those who now remember the truth of her acts. Imprisonment, poetic irony notwithstanding, is no guarantee for such a will. And as for our sworn duty, its matters should be left to us, as you had your belief in us." His arm rounded, passing over the Heroes, his friends and allies. "Provide a reason, beyond the Conquest outside these walls, as to why the verdict should be delayed." He requested. And suddenly, through the flint-iron grit of his discipline, Tiberius felt how utterly mad this predicament had come to be and his role in it.

Interactions: Nessi (the Gods), Beann (Kaida), CasualTea (Rohen).
Mentions: Eleanor.

 

[Dawnsx]

Nelumba

Nel was sad. Nel was happy! And sad.

Sad, because Granny is dead.

Nel saw it coming though. Despite the powers granted by Divine Fusion, Nel had found herself unable to interject in the duel between Yi Nuo and Hajun. She watched grimly from the air as the duo clashed.

Granny was super duper strong. But Hajun was super duper duper strong. Nel had guessed that Granny wouldn’t be able to win by herself. So she was sad, but not particularly surprised, when Hajun tossed Granny’s lifeless body down the hole like litter into a waste bin. It was just Granny’s time to go join Arlux on the other side.

But Nel was happy! Because Arrian got Nergal real good, and Eleanor and Aaxir smooched and defeated the baddie with the power of love like in those picture books with happy endings! And she was back to normal but not really but alive!

But sad, because Eleanor’s new look didn’t really fit her vision of a champion of kindness, love and life. Nothing against demons, really! Nel wasn’t racist or anything, but the champions had an image to maintain! Eleanor’s new washboard abs didn’t really cut it.

And above all, Nel was tired.

Because duh, who wouldn’t be after fighting the Demon King?

Dropping to the ground, Nel and Shiva peeled apart as the effects of Divine Fusion wore off. Shiva stood majestically as ever, and even dusted himself off with a look of disgust like he was trying to get rid of Nel-cooties. She didn’t have the energy to be offended anymore, so she laid on her back and breathed a sigh of relief now that everything was over…

Boy, she must be really tired, because she couldn’t move at all!

…But wait. Why were there fighty sounds? Nel tried to take a look, but it felt like someone was holding her head in place, and she could only stare straight up.

And there were a bunch of unfamiliar voices talking about the demon race and genocide. It was a bit confusing when Nel couldn’t see who was speaking, but she got the gist. One of the gods killed all the demons because she couldn’t get them to do what she said.

Nel frowned.

Lycoris also got gutted because she wouldn’t obey.

The guy who’d mugged them all those years ago was all like, “Just gimme your money and I’ll let you live!”

And Lycoris was a fierce gal and said, “No thank you!”

And the mugger didn’t like hearing no for an answer, so in went the knife, and out came the blood.

Nel sat up abruptly as the invisible force holding her down dissipated. Her eyes spotted Shiva first, and he looked mad. Not the face-snarling, teeth-baring kinda mad like she made him sometimes. But he was completely still and he didn’t actually have an angry face on at all, but she just could tell he was super pissed.

It wasn’t hard to guess why. Shiva mentioned to her, just once, that some of his kids died fighting the demons.

Still, he didn’t make any moves to execute Tiamat.

“You’re a big baby!” Nel announced, resting her hands on her hips. “Getting mad and throwing a tantrum because the demons didn’t do what you wanted? That’s what babies do! Wow, for an old lady, you act like an entitled toddler!”

She cocked her head at Tibby. “There’s no reason why the verdict should be delayed! This is high time we perform champion duties!”

With that, she formed a blade of water and chucked it at Tiamat’s neck.

 

[Zariel]

Gáe Bolg struck true, piercing the Plague God's heart as Arrian bounded off of Azaera, high into the air, and launched the divine weapon at his target.

And just like that, after much strife, their foe's form crumbled into a pile of foul ash. It was over.

Yet, even in their victory, the moment of respite was fleeting. The winds shifted, a sudden, oppressive force weighing upon them. Even Azaera felt the spines lining her back tense, her amethyst eyes narrowing at the unseen presence that loomed.

Without hesitation, Azaera took flight, her serpentine form swimming through the sky. The sense of a familiar power guided her toward the source. As she neared, she could see them—Inanna, locked in combat with another, one whose presence made Azaera roar in defiance.

Is that... Tiamat?! Why has she appeared?!

The Goddess of War sent The Great Mother careening through several platforms with a brutal strike. She held her mighty axe poised at Tiamat’s throat, its edge shimmering with magic capable of obliterating anything it touched.

And yet, she hesitated.

Inanna’s expression remained steeled, but she did not strike. Instead, she withdrew her weapon.

The black dragoness landed with a thunderous impact beside her goddess and the Allmother, her enormous ophidian form twisting and coiling as she encircled them both. A sudden, sharp sting snapped her attention—a small blade of water, likely aimed at Tiamat but striking her instead, sending a dull ache through her dark scales. Azaera hissed but dismissed the attack, for now, recognising it as the impetuous act of another god or champion.

She turned to Inanna, a silent exchange passing between them. Inanna’s nod was slight but resolute. Through their link, she telepathically conveyed the revelation granted by Veritas, a concealed truth that had ignited the fury of the gods. Azaera’s glare drifted downward, locking onto Tiamat. For a fleeting moment, memories surged forth—visions of fire, betrayal, chains that bound her, and the unrelenting wrath that had driven her once.

She understood the rage of the demons. She understood the thirst for vengeance. It was the same for her. The dragons, too, were hunted by the other mortal races. She had been shackled, deceived, and enslaved, her mighty strength used as a tool by lesser beings. And when she finally broke free, she made them pay. She tore through their ranks, incinerated them, mauled them, devoured them, reduced their fortresses to cinders, made them understand the suffering they had inflicted.

The hatred had never ceased. Not for years. Even now, part of it lingers, like a scar, unable to completely heal.

It was a cycle, one that could only be broken if both sides chose to forgive.

But that would never happen.

With a voice that carried the weight of her authority and acquired sentiments, she addressed the other heroes and gods.

“Stand down,” she began. “Our journey has not reached its end just yet. If final victory is what we seek, we will require the Allmother’s power to achieve it.... It is true... she must answer for her sins... But her day of reckoning is not yet upon us. For now, we shall postpone judgment.”

Inanna, though every fibre of her being screamed for vengeance, nodded in agreement, taking her stance between Tiamat and the rest. Azaera's maw also started simmering with dark fire, a warning to the rest that she was prepared to fight should they persist.

The fate of the world had yet to be decided, and their war was far from over.

AZAERA​