Location: The Throat of the World (Descent).
Time: 12:00.
The mountain was silent.
The deafening heartbeat that had plagued the Spine of the World for centuries was gone. The violet radiation that bled from the rocks had faded to a dull, harmless hum. The air tasted clean for the first time in three hundred years.
Dante and his crew descended the ropes. This time, they weren't fighting the wind; they were riding the momentum of victory.
Aurum, the Gold Sovereign, climbed awkwardly. His pristine white suit was ruined, stained with soot and oil. His nose was crooked from Dante's headbutt. But his eyes—those spinning gold coins—were scanning the canyon walls with frantic intensity.
"Obsidian," Aurum muttered, touching the wall as he slid down. "High-grade volcanic glass. And look at that strata... veins of raw mana-crystal exposed by the geothermal vents. This isn't a mountain; it's a bank vault waiting to be cracked."
"Focus on your footing, CFO," Dante called down from above. "You can audit the rocks later."
"You don't understand," Aurum shouted back, his voice buzzing with greed. "The market in Sector 1 is starved for raw mana. If we establish a mining operation here... using the Enclave's labor and my logistics network... we could undercut the Baron's fuel prices by 40%. We could corner the heating market in a month!"
Dante smiled. He had broken the man, but he had kept the calculator.
"Write up a business plan," Dante said. "We'll pitch it to the landlord."
Location: The Obsidian Enclave, Main Gates.
Time: 14:00.
They didn't need to announce their return. The silence of the mountain had done it for them.
When they reached the gates of the Enclave——thousands of women were waiting. They stood on the bridges, the walkways, and the rooftops. They weren't holding spears this time. They were holding their breath.
Matriarch Nyx stood at the front of the crowd, flanked by Commander Lyra.
Nyx looked different. The tightness around her eyes—the constant strain of shielding her people from the radiation—was gone. She looked younger. Lighter. As if gravity had loosened its grip on her bones.
Dante stepped forward. He looked battered, covered in oil and titan-blood, with the Silvergrin flashing in the pale northern sun.
"The heartbeat is gone," Dante announced, his voice carrying through the silent canyon without amplification. "The Curse is broken."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Some women fell to their knees. Others wept silently.
Nyx walked up to Dante. She didn't look at the mountain. She looked at him.
"I felt it stop," Nyx whispered. "The pressure in my bones... it vanished."
She looked at Valerius, who stood tall beside Dante, alive and un-mutated. She looked at Silas and Havoc, whose nosebleeds had stopped.
"You killed a god," Nyx said softly.
"I put it to sleep," Dante corrected. "It won't wake up again. Your sons are safe, Matriarch. The men can return."
Nyx closed her eyes. A single tear tracked through the dust on her face.
"Then the Enclave is in your debt, Pale King."
"I don't want debt," Dante said, stepping closer so only she could hear. "I want partnership."
He gestured to Aurum, who was busy typing on a datapad he had salvaged from his pocket.
"This is Aurum. He used to run the world's economy. Now he works for us."
Nyx looked at the battered Gold Sovereign. "He looks... soft."
"He is," Dante agreed. "But he can turn your rocks into rifles. He can turn this canyon into a fortress that the Iron Legion can't touch."
Dante turned to face the crowd and the city.
"The world is changing, Nyx. The Baron is dead. The South is in chaos. The Unknowns are waking up. If you stay hidden, you will starve. If you join me... we will build a kingdom that the Empire can't ignore."
Nyx looked at her people. She saw the relief, but she also saw the fear of the unknown.
She looked back at Dante. She saw the monster who had climbed into hell and came back with the devil on a leash.
She bowed.
It wasn't a deep bow. It was the bow of an equal.
"The Obsidian Enclave stands with the Pale King," Nyx declared.
An hour later, they were in the Palace War Room.
Aurum had cleaned himself up. He had found a piece of chalk and was currently drawing a complex flowchart on the obsidian wall.
"Phase One," Aurum lectured, pointing to the map. "We secure the perimeter. The Enclave's natural defenses are excellent against ground assault, but vulnerable to airships. We need anti-air batteries."
"We have Havoc," Dante said, pointing to the mercenary who was eating a leg of roasted goat like a starving man.
"Havoc is a man with a gun," Aurum scoffed. "We need a system. I can divert a shipment of flak-cannons from Sector 4. They think I'm still the Sovereign. I can sign the order remotely."
"Do it," Dante authorized.
"Phase Two," Aurum continued. "The Economy. We are sitting on a trillion gears worth of mana-crystal. We need to start exporting. But we can't sell directly to the City; they'll track us. We use the Black Market. I have contacts in the Undercity."
"Silas," Dante said. "You're with Aurum. Set up the mining drones. Modify the extraction lasers to run on the Enclave's geothermal grid."
"On it, Boss," Silas said, already sketching blueprints on a napkin.
"Phase Three," Aurum concluded, circling the North on the map. "Expansion. We are currently a City-State. To survive the coming war with the other Aspirants, we need to be a Nation. We need to annex the neighboring territories."
Valerius spoke up from the shadows. "The neighboring territories are inhabited by Frost-Giants and Remnant Clans. They do not negotiate."
"Then we don't negotiate," Dante said, the red light of the War Engine flickering in his eyes.
He stood up.
"We have the Enclave. We have the Money. We have the Weapons. And we have the Map."
He pulled the Key to the Celestial Observatory from his pocket. He placed it on the table.
"There are five more Axioms out there. Five more pieces of the Origin. We are going to find them all."
Dante looked at his strange, broken council.
Nyx, The Matriarch.
Aurum, The Financier.
Valerius, The General.
Silas, The Engineer.
Havoc, The Enforcer.
"Welcome to the New Administration," Dante grinned. "Let's go conquer the world."
Epilogue: The Shadow in the South
Location: Sector 5, The Necropolis.
Time: Unknown.
Deep beneath the city of New Babel, in a place where the sun never touched, a figure sat on a throne of woven bone.
The air here was still. Stagnant. It smelled of formaldehyde and ancient dust.
The figure was wrapped in tattered grey bandages. Green, sickly flames licked at its feet, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls of the crypt.
A messenger—a shadow made of coalesced smoke—knelt before the throne.
"The Baron has fallen," the shadow hissed. "The Gold Sovereign is missing. The North has gone silent."
The figure on the throne moved. Dust fell from its bandages like snow.
"Silent?" the figure rasped. Its voice sounded like a heavy stone coffin lid sliding open.
"The heartbeat of the Mountain has stopped, My Lord."
The figure laughed. It was a dry, rattling sound—like dice made of knuckles shaking in a cup.
"So," the figure whispered. "Someone has finally found the Engine."
The figure stood up. The green flames roared higher, illuminating the thousands of undead soldiers standing in the darkness of the Necropolis. Rows upon rows of skeletons, ghouls, and stitched horrors, all waiting for a command.
"The board is set. The pieces are moving."
The figure raised a hand. A green flame ignited in its palm, turning into a scythe.
"Wake the Dead. The Pale King wants a war? Let us give him an Apocalypse."