Einherjar Barracks
Romulus' Room
Romulus watched Georgios on the monitor amidst the roar of the crowd. He unclasped his hands and pulled Yamāyudha out of the arena floor. He walked the long way over to the other side of the Arena, standing beneath the looming gazes of the Gods in the bleachers above him. Romulus' gentle grip on Skalmöld's hand tightened slightly as his friend raised the flag to the audience high above.
Romulus looked on in awe, unable to see or hear Georgios' words, but he could see the responses amongst the fierce Gods of Helheim towards him.
Some looked livid and ready to tear him apart like the well-dressed Baron Samedi, whose white face-paint smeared from tears of rage. Others looked sullen and broken like the half-dead Hel in her fur-trimmed armor. A few looked…proud and defiant, like the muscular and rotund, bearded Zhong Kui who laughed and roared at the sight. Zhong Kui, followed by several other Gods and Monsters in the stands, rose and bowed to Georgios. Georgios lowered the banner, shook his head, and returned the bow before walking back to Brünhilde. The pair slowly departed the arena, and the broadcast transitioned to a commercial for Raijin Ramen.
"That crazy guy," Romulus whispered, chuckling.
"What happened?" Skalmöld asked.
"He tried giving them Yama's banner, and they shot him down!"
"It shouldn't surprise you. He's always like that."
"Yeah…" Romulus smiled. "It's people like him that made it all worthwhile, you know?"
"Going down to Midgard after the Flood?"
Romulus nodded.
Skalmöld rested her head against his right shoulder. "I was always jealous of you for that."
"Me? Why?"
"You and Hilde…just…I don't know. You always seem like you just…do. Regardless of anything, you just…do."
"Mold…"
"I'm not now, and I know why you two are like that, but it's…" She blushed a little. "Kind of cool, sometimes."
"I wasn't exactly successful, and I left Heaven behind for a while."
"But you tried. More than anyone else, and even tried to stop Humanity from blaming Pan. Plus, Valhalla was still here when you got back."
"Mold, a favor."
She raised her head. "What?"
Romulus looked into her eyes and felt a familiar tug at his soul. "May I? One more time?"
Her face turned a bright shade of red. "...Sure…"
He slid to the left on the couch, turned left so his feet hung over the arm, and rested his head in her lap. Skalmöld's heart beat faster as his eyes closed and a soft smile grew. She saw his ears twitch a little.
"Valhalla isn't Heaven." His head tilted to the left, his ear now resting against her stomach. "This is."
Skalmöld's left hand ran its fingers gently through Romulus' beard.
"If I knew how long I'd go without this, I might have stayed here."
Skalmöld smiled. "Liar."
"Guilty. Oh." His eyes opened. "I think I felt him kick."
"It's too early for that, and what, pray tell, makes you think it's a boy?"
"I am a King. Kings know these things."
"Didn't know being a King in Midgard gave you such abilities."
"That didn't make me a King." He closed his eyes again, feeling her fingers run gently through his beard. "This did. As long as you are my Queen, I am forever a King."
Skalmöld fought back a smile. I hate when you do this. She thought. How am I supposed to not be happy when you say sappy stuff like this?
"We're winning the next match, Mold. I promise." She looked down at him, seeing the resolve in his lively blue eyes.
"No doubts here."
Jörð Arena
Western Outer Halls
"You know," Georgios started, wincing a little. "It's nice we're in one piece and all…but everything still hurts, Hilde!"
The pair was making their way down the halls, wincing, flinching, and twitching with every few steps.
"What? Were you expecting someone to roll us to the infirmary?" Brünhilde chuckled, then flinched. "Geh! Ugh…"
"I don't know, kind of? Be a bit nice if we got some love here!"
"Not going to get that here unless we need it." Brünhilde grimaced. "We pulled out a hard win, but we're not out of the woods."
The pair turned left into a larger hall.
"About that. Any word on the 13th God?"
Brünhilde breathed deeply. "The 13th slot is being fought for right now in an Apocalypse. Round One was last night, and the winners will fight Rounds two and three tonight for the final slot."
"How strong are they?"
"…Strong enough that I had to keep their counters in reserve. As much as I wanted to use them all in the base Roster, the eight Instructors are far too strong for me to throw anyone at them."
Georgios rested his free hand on his chest. "…Well, I feel slightly offended. Was I not good enough?"
Brünhilde stifled a laugh. "Nope!"
"Words hurt, Hilde! My poor, innocent soul!"
Brünhilde's hand trembled as she pulled out her tablet, tapping at the screen. "Here." The pair stopped, and she showed him the screen.
Apocalypse Roster
Ryujin
Barong
Epona
Hunahpu
Lu Ban
Parashurama
Pakkanen
Oya
She swiped the screen.
Potential Counters
David
Gilgamesh
Dandara Dos Palmares
Sundiata Keita
Lagertha
Fu Hao
Charlemagne
Julie d'Aubigny La Maupin
Georgios sighed. "You really thought this through."
"I had to." She pocketed the tablet. "Putting it up to chance is not fair to Humanity."
Georgios' brow furrowed. "If you have all this prepared, why Arthur Ap Ythyr?"
Brünhilde sighed and continued walking. "Myrddin helped me gather a lot of these guys. You'd think they'd be more willing for Humanity, but some, like Vlad and you, were difficult to pull off. I had to offer to help him break Arthur out in return for help with the Roster, getting Sieg out of Tartarus, and finding you."
"Wait, me?" Georgios blinked a few times. "…Oh yeah…"
Turkey
Central Anatolia Region
Six Months Ago
Brünhilde stood half a kilometer away on the barren rock, her Pegasus clopping on the dry earth behind her. Ahead of her, slowly crumbling away, were the remains of a Primordial Beast surrounding a scar-covered figure with just a scrap of cloth for a cloak.
Myrddin, this better be true… She thought. "Hey, you!"
The figure turned to her and quizzically tilted its head.
"You can see me?!" It yelled. Suddenly, it burst into a sprint towards her. "Holy cow, someone can see me!"
Oh no… She saw the manic joy in his blue eyes as he got closer. His wild, toothy grin. Why is he butt naked?! He was only a dozen or so meters from her when she raised her hands and looked away. "HOLD IT!"
The figure slowed to a halt. "So I'm not crazy…"
"You look crazy. Put something on!"
"Great idea! Let me go over to that rock and grab my best set of armor—I don't have anything else to wear! You think I can walk into town, invisible and without coin to my name, and say 'Excuse me, I need something fancy and quaint for monster-slaying—"
"I'm sorry. Just…please hold on…" She walked back to her steed and dug through a satchel, pulling out a pair of brown pants and a black long-sleeved shirt. She walked back to him and tossed them. "Here."
He snagged them out of the air, whipping them on in a flash to Brünhilde's discomfort.
"Oh man…been over a thousand years or so since I got something new to wear!" He looked at her and straightened up. "Wait. I know you…"
"Not possible." Brünhilde crossed her arms.
"Of course it's not. I haven't talked to anyone since the whole…" He swiped his hand across his neck. "Anyways, I mean, I know of you." He stepped closer. "It's those eyes and that look of self-defeating sadness. He did that a lot."
Brünhilde's arms dropped. "So you're…Georgios?"
"I am. And you're Hrist!"
Brünhilde blinked a few times. "…No, I'm Brünhilde."
"But there's a Hrist, right? And a Geirölul?"
"…Yes?"
Georgios clapped his hands together. "Excellent! My memory isn't that terrible! Anyways, I have a few important, life-changing questions."
What is going on?! First, he's near-naked, killing a Primordial Beast, then this? Brünhilde thought. ...He's as bad as Nostradamus… "What are they?"
"Are Hrist or Geirölul single?"
Someone help me… She thought, staring dejectedly at him. "…Yes?"
His eyes lit up like stars. "Wonderful! The Old Man would always go on about them and their rough sides. I love a woman with grit! Speaking of him, how is he?"
She blinked a few times and looked away. Georgios' body went limp. "Oh. Well…that's a shame."
Jörð Arena
Outer Halls
"I had no clue you were being barred from Valhalla," Brünhilde said. "You're lucky the ward was fading, and I knew how to remove it."
"I still don't know how it happened," Georgios added. "A lot of things just before and after my death are still blurry. The last thing I recall was waking up in Cappadocia. I had no clue what to do, so I just kept doing what he taught me."
"Death's fog is normal. It takes a while for your memories around the time of death to come back. The weird part's the ward."
"Because only Angels know about it, right?"
She nodded.
"Questions for later, Hilde. Right now, we need to get back to the others and—"
Brünhilde came to a stop. Georgios stopped a step sooner and turned from her to see why.
Standing in the center of the empty hall, Bident in hand, was Hades. His calm, stoic glare pierced their souls, and Georgios felt an overwhelming chill envelop him.
"Greetings, Brünhilde," He said.
Brünhilde dropped into a kneel and lowered her head. Georgios looked at her, shocked.
"Not here for that. Rise."
She gulped as she rose, meeting his gaze.
"You two did what many thought unthinkable. I'd applaud you, but I feel that is a bit tactless in the wake of my predecessor's death."
Georgios stepped in front of Brünhilde. Yama's successor…Helheim's King?! "Sir, forgive my impudence, but we're exhausted. Is there something you need from us?"
"Hmm. No. I wanted to meet the other souls who carry Yama's will. Seems I have kindred spirits in this endeavor." He grew a soft smile. "Brünhilde. Georgios. I came to let you know that where he stopped, I will take over. Rest easy."
He walked past the pair as he pulled out his tablet, eyeing a pulsating dot on the screen. He turned the corner and vanished.
The pair exchanged a confused glance, then departed.
Jörð Arena
Lugh's Chambers
"Was worried you guys weren't going to show!" Lugh said, bright-eyed from behind his open door. "Though Humans aren't typically allowed here."
A young couple stood on the other side of the threshold. The man was tall and burly with a scraggly chin-strap of a beard that matched his messy dark hair. His sleeveless yellow shirt and brown pants barely showed out of his long, fur cloak. The woman barely came up to his chest, and her long silver hair hung loose over her shoulders, complementing her blue dress and brown eyes.
Sualtam Mac Roich
Brother of Fergus Mac Roich
Protector of Ulster
Husband of Deichtine
(Celtic)
Deichtine Ingen Maga
Sister of Conchobar Mac Nessa
Wife of Sualtam
(Celtic)
"Come on in!"
"We were surprised a couple of angels came and got us," Sualtam said as the pair walked through, taking in the stone-bricked room. Three open windows sat opposite the threshold, letting the late afternoon sun in. "Good to see you again, Lord Lugh."
"I still can't stop you from calling me…"
"What else do we call the one who answered our prayers?" Deichtine asked.
"'Lugh' is just fine."
"No, it isn't." Deichtine walked to the center of the room, taking in the murals of the forest and seas hanging on the walls before sitting down at a simple wooden table. "No Human Lord or King could answer our prayers. Only you and I will not let you downplay it."
Lugh and Sualtam exchanged a glance and a smile. "No arguing with her," Sualtam said. He walked over and sat next to her.
Lugh walked over to the table's other side and sat down.
"So why ask us to come?"
"We haven't talked in who knows how long, and I wanted to see if you two were well. I don't have much of a chance to leave Eire, and my Uncle's a bit of a worrywart."
"King Nuada?" Deichtine asked.
"The one and only. Has Valhalla been treating you two well?"
The couple smiled. "We're better here than we were back home!" Sualtam exclaimed. "We've met so many people and seen things we only read about in stories!"
"Has Setanta been to see you two?"
"He's…" Deichtine said, but stopped.
"He's being a brat again?"
"A bit."
Lugh shot a snide look at Sualtam. "He's still like you even up here!"
"Please don't remind me…" Sualtam ran his hand through his scruffy hair.
"If I see him, I'll chastise him and send him your way."
"He's not with you?"
"No? Last I heard, he was running around Helheim, bothering Scathach."
"We'd thought he'd be with the Tuatha De Danann," Deichtine said.
"When I am King, he will be, but until then…Nuada doesn't think highly of him. You guys aren't privy to politics here, but Setanta's what they call an Outer God; someone who doesn't fall in line with the status quo for a reason or another."
"Oh no…he's a criminal?!" Terror shot across Deichtine's face.
"No! No, he's just doing things his way. His epithet, the Unruly, comes from his refusing to put on airs for the older Gods. Kind of refreshing, honestly."
"Oh…well, that's a little better…"
"If it makes you two feel better, I'll contact Scathach and ask her to send him your way. Least she could do for his parents."
"Thank you, Lugh—" Deichtine tapped Sualtam on his leg. "Lord Lugh."
Lugh leaned back and sighed. "Deichtine, please stop."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Why did I answer your prayers for a child?"
"Because you are magnanimous?"
"No. Because you two are my friends. I do what I can for my friends, regardless of who they are and where they're from. When I visited Midgard, you two, despite not knowing my real identity, showed me kindness and friendship. I felt that anything I did could not equal such undeserved kindness, so I hoped answering a prayer would be enough."
The pair smiled.
"But I have to be honest with you two. As my friends, I don't want to hide from you. You know I am going next, right?"
They nodded, grabbing each other's hands under the table.
"I'm not going because I am angry with you, or with any of the friends I made back on Midgard. Please don't ever think that, because I know you two well enough that the thought crossed your mind."
"It did," Sualtam confessed.
"Sualtam. Deichtine. I am going to fight, because it is my responsibility. My Aunt and Uncle trained me, no, raised me, to be their successor. To be a true King, one that they can trust with Eire and the Tuatha De Danann's protection, I have to stand against Humanity. Not because of some idea of evil or malevolence, but because we are Gods."
"I don't understand," Deichtine said.
"Humanity's state is not its fault alone. We failed them first. We failed as leaders and guides, and you all suffered for it. But you managed this far, yet the truth slaps us in the face; if we step in now, we're tyrants. If we don't, we're complicit in more pain and decay."
"I see where you're coming from, but not all of Humanity commits such acts," Sualtam said.
"I agree. Absolutely agree, and it's not fair to the wonderful souls like those who fought in Ragnarök, you two, and the others who I don't doubt would stand up for their fellow man. But…I'm not naïve enough to think the few exceptions will stem the tide. The human who just won, Georgios, fought for his fellow men when alive, mourned them, and killed countless Primordial Beasts in the name of his faith and people. His reward was a beheading."
Deichtine and Sualtam said nothing.
"You two are free to hate me. I won't change your minds, but I want you to know I don't do it out of joy. I do it as a King, a God, and a friend who can't let good people like you two or Georgios continue to die such deaths in a world that enables it."
"…You don't have a lot of faith in Humanity, do you?" Deichtine said.
"No, I do. I have a lot of faith in Humanity. You all achieved so many things on your own without Divine aid or direct interference. So many achieved great things!" He raised his right hand. "Like flying, communications, law, agriculture, medicine, literature, games, and movies! All without our power!" He raised his left. "As well as…war and all its armaments. Corruption and decadence. Treachery and martyrdom." He brought his hands together. "Humanity made all of this and is all of this."
"That's not faith," Sualtam said. "That's a concession."
"Maybe, but explain."
"Faith isn't giving up on something despite its faults. It's acknowledging them and knowing the good can outshine the bad, and even then, good can come from the worst. All those evil things made by us are being fought by us."
"It's also trusting those after you to try. You're not meant to be a perfect replacement for your Aunt and Uncle, right?" Deichtine added. "If they expected a perfect copy, we all know you'd fail. But they trust you, because you're you. Not them."
Lugh huffed and smiled. "So I air out my beliefs, and you shoot them down in seconds…"
"Friends don't let friends suffer through such painful beliefs," Sualtam said, smiling. "You still get stuck in your thoughts."
"But that's why you called for us, right?" Deichtine asked. "And no one else?"
"It is. I can't say I agree with you entirely. There's only so much that can be tolerated before we have to step in. You did the same once, Sualtam, and many have done the same since in the name of their people." Lugh straightened in his seat. "Guys, I don't want to kill Humanity. I want to help you all, but the way things are, anything I do will make things worse."
"Maybe. Maybe not, but we know who you are, and always will be. We know it'd come from the right place."
Lugh smiled. "Even if I were a King?"
"Especially. You're going to be a wonderful King because of who you are."
Lugh felt something hit his chest. I don't deserve friends like this. "I'd be a better king if I were like the guy fighting for you all next Round."
"Why?" Sualtam asked.
"The guy I'm fighting…is one of my best friends, and my ideal. He's a King Among Kings, and his influence spread all over Midgard long after he left. For ages, there were many claiming to be the next Rome and such, but that means he did something no one across all three realms thought possible. One guy with one dream, and I got to fight him to the death." He sighed. "And Humanity's one win away, so he's coming at me like no tomorrow."
"Not even the slightest hint of mercy?" Deichtine asked.
"That guy killed his own brother to protect his people. Killing me will be like blinking to him."
"I hope he wins. No offense."
Lugh choked back a laugh, but failed. He lurched forward and banged the table. Sualtam and Deichtine joined in.
"Holy mess! Way to speak your mind!" He cleared his throat.
"Ha!" Sualtam took in a couple of breaths. "What else is on your mind?" He asked.
Lugh looked out the window, taking in the forest for a few seconds. He felt something stick in his throat, but he swallowed it down. The two across from him were the only ones he knew he could say it to.
"I think…this may be the last time I talk to you two. I'd like it to last a little longer, if that's okay."
The couple exchanged a glance and a sad smile.
"Of course," Deichtine said.
Jörð Arena
Southern Outer Halls
"Well, we're in a right pickle, aren't we?!" Arthur said, walking at a hurried pace with Siegfried, Michael, and Vidarr in tow.
"Why?" Siegfried asked, pulling a striped coat over his back.
Arthur tapped his forehead. "That damn fool is planning to die; I will not have that!"
"What?!" Michael said.
"He genuinely thinks no one's coming to save him! He's taking Odin out to Eden, hoping he can delay him while we all prepare for his return to the arena! Is he that damn determined to die?!"
How is he seeing these things? Vidarr thought.
"Vidarr!" Arthur said sternly.
"What do you need?"
"Can you use the Bifrost Shard to get us to Eden ahead of them?"
"I can't. No paths to Eden were made to keep it isolated from Tartarus." Also, to keep Zahhak from causing problems there.
"Damn it! Are you all sure this is the quickest path there?!"
"Of course!" Michael said. "Jörð Arena was designed as a jumping point for Eden for tourism. It shouldn't take us more than about ten minutes!"
Damn it! Arthur thought. They'll get there before us, and nothing's stopping Odin from killing him the moment they arrive! Think, dammit! Arthur broke into a sprint.
"Arthur!" Siegfried yelled. He ran after him, followed by Vidarr and Michael.
It can't end like this! You old bastard! You have too much to answer for to get away like this!
Jörð Arena
Promenade
Set and Odin continued their walk as the sun continued its descent overhead. Set looked at his tablet as they continued walking, sighing dejectedly as Yama's final moments replayed on his screen.
"Mourning another who died for your cause?" Odin said.
"I am. He was a complex soul. I could barely understand him, and it was not until the end that I realized how good he was…"
"I thought you had everything figured out. Me. Humanity. Everything."
"Must be nice kicking me while I am down." Set pocketed the tablet.
"It's not. Watching you reap what you sow is."
Set groaned. "I do not understand you."
"Hmm?"
"Back in the old days, you were proud, but not petty. Did the passage of time turn you into such a pitiable state?"
"I have my reasons."
"Like the reasons for your possession of Gungnir?"
"Still latching onto that?"
"If nothing else."
"Why not your son?"
"Ariel is not the current problem. You are, and you know something I want."
The pair continued their walk, eyeing their destination, a courtyard with floating rainbow-colored gateways.
"You running your mouth doesn't mean I am inclined to it."
"No, but we can play a game to pass the time. We ask each other questions and answer honestly. One at a time, and answer in the spirit and letter."
"Why should I humor this?"
"Because you took great offense to my accusation about Gungnir. Despite the history of the Primordial Gods being suppressed, you do not use Gram. No one would be confused or reminded of that weapon, except the Mad Sun Ra, Izanagi, and me. But who would believe me? To the Gods, I am an Angel. So then, why Gungnir? Why threaten me with it and not Gram?"
A slight pause filled the air.
Brother, please be smart about this. Set's voice said in his ear.
"I believe it is because you value it over Gram, despite it being weaker. And the only reason you would do that…is because of sentimentalism."
Odin shot a wrath-filled glance at Set.
"And the only ones who would hold it to such esteem are those who know its true value; Gǫllnir's disciples."
He stopped, letting Odin take a few steps.
"You are not Odin at all, are you?"
Odin turned around, and chills ran down Set's body as he saw a contorting sneer warp Odin's face.
He's NOT ODIN?! The voice said.
"Clever, but not clever enough," Odin answered.
Set's eyes widened.
"You madman! Do you know what you do?!" Set roared. "Gǫllnir did not do what he did so you could take what he built and burn creation down with it! If you are one of his disciples, you should know he would never condone this!"
Odin's eyes carried a fire behind them as his sneer contorted into a snarl. "I do what I do because of Gǫllnir and his disciples, because of what your kind did to them."
The image of a scalding crater played in both their minds.
"So you would rather desecrate their memory to satisfy a vendetta?!"
Stop antagonizing him!
I am stalling!
"Vendetta?" Odin said as the floor cracked under his feet. "This is justice. For a world built on lies that destroyed anything that threatened it. I will use Gǫllnir's knowledge to erase that lie."
"…I will not deny that what my peers did was reprehensible. Not a day goes by that my mind escapes the decimation, but I thought you were all gone. If you are here, then we can fix things, not destroy them! We can do it as Gǫllnir intended!"
Odin turned around and resumed walking. "Move now, or die."
Set sighed and followed him.
It was at least a good try. He thought.
So he is one of them? Gǫllnir's disciples?
He is. I have no doubt now. He is not Feldis, but he knows him well enough that it affected him earlier. Saga? Blindi? Bruni or Brunn? Maybe Fengr? The names and faces flashed through his mind. The village came into focus. He could see each name take a form and wave at him as he walked. He saw a familiar voice that filled him with nostalgia, smiling as he put his messy white hair in a ponytail. It could not be you, Feldis? Righ— He saw a young boy with black scruffy hair run from behind Feldis towards him. The boy stopped and grew a wide smile as he puffed his chest out, showing a familiar good-luck charm. No… He looked at Odin's back, feeling something in the pit of his stomach shatter. Velk?
Einherjar Barracks
Romulus' Room
Romulus heard a knock at his door. He sprang up from Skalmöld's lap and darted over.
"Speak," He said.
"Open it, or I will open it," A woman's voice spoke.
Romulus sighed and pulled it open.
In the hall, he saw two women. One was barely shorter than him, with strawberry blond hair done in three braids, and wearing a pastel blue toga under a fur-trimmed vest. Her sandals were pristine, dark brown leather, and her nails were pedicured with matching blue polish. Her pale gold eyes stared out from beneath her bangs. The other was just taller than Romulus, in pristine white robes and a simple golden breastplate. On her left hip sat a shield; her short platinum-blonde hair hid beneath her helmet, and her piercing blue eyes rested behind circular glasses.
Artemis
Goddess of the Hunt, Wildlife, Chastity, and Moon
Delia Artemis
(Greek Pantheon)
Athena
Goddess of War, Wisdom, and Arts
Pallas Athena
Ace of The Greeks
(Greek Pantheon)
"Where are your manners, boy?" Artemis asked.
"Where yours are, apparently." He turned to Athena. "Good to see you, too. Joining in on this family banter?"
"No," Athena said.
"Good. When you two are together, it's enough to make me want to close the door. Speaking of—"
"Find your manners, Quirinus," Athena said sharply. "And end this."
"Romulus."
Athena leered at him.
"Romulus." He repeated.
Both leered at him.
"Call me by the name given to me by my father, or I will make you."
"Threats?"
"Nah. Just a reminder."
"Rommie?" Skalmöld asked from behind him.
"Rommie?" Artemis said, as if tasting something vile.
"So you can say my name! Goodbye." He slammed the door and walked away.
The pair looked at each other, then at the door.
"He's still got that spitfire in him," Artemis said, smiling.
"He'll need it," Athena said. "May I?"
"Be my guest."
Athena raised her right leg and shot it forward. The door opened immediately, and Romulus caught her foot in his hand.
"Guess your manners are missing, too," He said, releasing her foot. He shook his head. "Come on in…"