The six stood amidst the storm. The Path shook under the weight of war.
The obsidian guardians cracked with every impact, sending splinters into the air like shrapnel. The red sky churned overhead, swollen with black lightning arcs. Through it all, the endless chain of condemned souls still trudged along the Path. Their eyes were still downcast, shoulders bent under the burdens. A few of the obsidian guardians still watched them, unmoving and silent, still in their ritual vigilance.
But the rest of the guardians had descended upon the six.
They came in waves — towering, faceless statues of obsidian stone. Their eyes now wreathed an oily flame. Each step was a tremor, each swing of their weapons a storm. And yet, amidst the chaos, Arthur was never struck. He moved like water, slipping between spearheads, letting a blow pass so close that it might have cut his breath in half. He didn't stay in one place long enough to be caught.
The five immortals, however, did not evade. They carved.
The dragon-robed man's manifested sword split three guardians in a single sweep, shattering them into clouds of gravel and embers before they reformed. The jade-armored warrior met every weapon thrust with a riposte that rang like a temple bell, and his pugilistic art drew arcs that bent the space. The starlit figure moved like a phantom, her drawn souls struck fast, disassembling guardians into whirling fragments that somehow always came back together. The scholar fought like a magician; her attacks were precise and merciless, and every attack was an execution. The long-robed man cast formations; his strikes blended elegance and brutality.
The six moved like a living storm, steel flashing, spells roaring, and raw power clashing against the unstoppable march of stone and fury. Sparks burst from every blocked strike, and each dodge was a hair's breadth from obliteration.
They were unrelenting, and the guardians were falling behind.
Yet there was a reason the five were still here in Purgatory.
The sky itself began to split.
More guardians came from the blood-red sky above, first dozens, then hundreds, each descending with a sound like mountains grinding together.
Over the chaos, the long-robed man roared, "YOU — LIE! HOW CAN YOU BE MORTAL?! NO MORTAL CAN HAVE SUCH MOVEMENT SKILLS!"
Arthur's answer was almost conversational despite the cacophony.
"I know… but I learned from you guys."
That stopped them for a heartbeat.
"WHEN?!" the dragon-robed man bellowed, crushing a guardian underfoot before splitting another in half.
"Thank you for teaching me."
"It is a movement skill which has the trait of all of us," the scholar realized.
Arthur only smiled faintly, and then, speaking to them yet also musing aloud, asked, "All of you, I have a query?"
The five immortals were still fixated in their unique set of situations.
"I wonder… how come the Purgatory suppresses the souls, but not us? What can it possibly achieve by keeping us here? Wouldn't cleansing us help this world a lot?"
A guardian's spear missed him by a hair's breadth; he leaned back just far enough to let it pass, then stepped aside as the ground split open. His voice didn't waver.
"Surely they could suppress us individually, like when we first arrived. So why are we free to battle like this? Why is there Qi in this place at all? Why can you still manifest your mortal treasures while the other souls can't? Look, aren't we using it against them?"
The question hung in the air like smoke.
For the first time, the immortals hesitated. Their strikes slowed, eyes flicking toward Arthur even as the guardians pressed harder. They didn't know what to say.
Arthur did.
"I think I know why," he said, his grin sharp as broken glass. "It's so that I can create havoc here."
He laughed long, jagged, and unrestrained.
The immortals' faces hardened. Fury replaced confusion, and they threw themselves back into the fight, blades screaming through stone.
Arthur did not join them.
He kept moving, constantly dodging, letting the guardians swing and miss, letting their bulk slow them.
The battle did not wane; it swelled.
The Path surroundings groaned under the ceaseless clash. More guardians poured from the sundered red sky, each landing like a meteor, sending cracks spidering through the obsidian ground. The air was thick with burning dust, the reek of scorched stone, and the screams of riven statues reforming
The immortals fought with teeth clenched, their fury turned raw. The dragon-robed man bellowed between strikes, "AFTER THIS, MORTAL — WE WILL DEAL WITH YOU!"
Arthur only smiled, stepping between another volley of spears, never striking back.
But the battle dragged. The guardians weren't falling back. The gates of Purgatory loomed ahead, and they all knew why the fight wasn't ending, because none of them dared to make the run.
"Go!" the long-robed man snarled, his voice cutting through the din. "One of us has to go for the Gates! That will end this!"
"I don't want to," the jade-armored warrior spat, his fist smashing through a guardian's chest. "You go!"
"I'm not dying for this!" the starlit figure snapped, splitting a guardian in two.
"Well, someone has to!" the scholar hissed, dodging a massive blade. "Otherwise, we'll be crushed by their sheer numbers. These moronic creatures will be the ones to drown us all."
Their voices clashed as fiercely as their attacks, but none were willing to step forward.
In the chaos, Arthur's laugh cut through like a jagged edge. "Don't worry, you guys. I'll help you out with the Soul Eaters."
The five froze mid-motion.
"How do you know that?!" the dragon-robed man barked.
Arthur's eyes glinted. "I wasn't deaf, you know. All these years, you've had far too much free time discussing your 'glorious battles' in detail." His grin widened. "Every little thing, I learned from you."
Then he ran.
Arthur's sudden sprint ripped through their hesitation. The five immortals exchanged quick, tense looks and tried to bolt from the situation. Fear burned in their eyes, for they knew what would come.
The sky tore wider. Six colossal hands of black stone the size of mountains descended from above. They blotted out what little light there was; each finger was as thick as a city wall.
There was a reason only six damned souls remained here. Every other who had dared to run for the Gates had been claimed by the thing above.
The hands reached. Their descent was silent — a silence more terrible than thunder.
The five immortals barely had time to react before five hands seized them.
"We should have run before," the scholar spoke with regret.
Arthur, without breaking stride, turned in the chaos and dragged two stumbling souls from the Path into his grasp as hostages.
The hands closed. The five immortals vanished, their bodies crushed and swallowed by the void beyond the red sky. The moment five damed souls' karmic burden was neutralized, the giants were also gone entirely. Purgatory itself shuddered; the impact was like a wound to the realm. Visible breaks were seen in the skies and the boundaries of the realm. The realm had suffered a lot.
The sixth hand descended for Arthur — and stopped. For a breath, it hovered, fingers twitching, then slowly bent away.
Arthur laughed breathlessly. "I knew it." He now had the chance of a lifetime; no damned soul in the immortals' stories had tried this. Arthur did, confirming his theory — the soul eaters didn't want to sacrifice souls that could pass on.
He tore forward, dodging through the last guardians that lunged for him. Stone blades sliced the air where he had just been. The mortal Arthur was now through the gates of Purgatory.