Dawn would never come here.
Maxime had been watching the sky for what felt like hours, waiting for one of the two moons to wane, for the twilight light to turn into something recognizable—day or night, it did not matter. But the firmament remained frozen in that eternal in-between, as if time itself had renounced this cursed place.
"You're wasting your time." Nyx's voice echoed behind him, amused. "The Temple of Oblivion exists outside normal cycles. Here, it is always the moment when you died. Always that twilight when your blood spilled on these stones."
Maxime turned around. The goddess was sitting on a fragment of a broken column, one leg drawn up against her chest, the other dangling carelessly. Her gown of stellar night rippled without wind, constellation after constellation sliding across the impossible fabric.
"Charming," he muttered. "So I'm stuck in a monument dedicated to my own murder."
"Assassination," Nyx corrected. "Murder implies a helpless victim. You fought. You made Zeus bleed. You tore out Odin's left eye—the one he now hides behind his eyepatch. You incinerated three of the Jade Emperor's generals." She rose with feline grace. "They had to ally thirty-seven major deities to defeat you. Thirty-seven. Let that number sink into your mind."
Maxime felt something stir within him—not pride, but a dull, ancient rage that did not entirely belong to him. Or perhaps it did. The boundaries between Maxime-the-human and Eros-the-god remained blurred, porous, unsettling.
"And you?" he asked abruptly. "Where were you during this thirty-seven-against-one massacre?"
Nyx's face closed instantly. Her galaxy-filled eyes darkened, the stars within them extinguishing one by one until only wells of absolute void remained.
"Imprisoned." The word came out like a spit of venom. "Hera set a trap for me three days before the ambush. She knew you would come for me if I were in danger. She also knew I would protect you until my last breath. So she locked me in Tartarus, behind seven divine seals, where I could do nothing but scream your name while you were dying."
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Maxime wanted to apologize, but the words stuck in his throat. What did one say to an immortal goddess who had spent three millennia bearing the weight of having failed to save her lover?
Nyx stepped closer, and this time her expression was neither maternal nor friendly. It was the gaze of a predator that had been deprived of its prey for far too long.
"That's why this time, I will not leave you. Ever." Her hand caught Maxime's chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Do you understand? No lone heroics, no noble sacrifice, no distance to 'protect me.' I stay. No matter what you think."
"I…" Maxime swallowed. "All right."
It was not really an agreement. It was a capitulation to something he felt could not be negotiated. Nyx smiled, apparently satisfied, and released his chin.
"Good. Now, training." She stepped back several paces, her hands tracing symbols in the air that left trails of violet light. "Your body is divine, but you don't know how to use it. Your reflexes are those of a mortal. Your awareness of mana is nonexistent. And you haven't even accessed your first skill yet."
The Divine Codex activated in front of Maxime, displaying his profile.
[MAXIME / EROS PRIMORDIAL — LEVEL 1]
Divinity: 14%
Attributes:
Strength: 18 (Superior Mortal)
Agility: 16 (Superior Mortal)
Endurance: 20 (Semi-divine)
Mana: 142/142 (Divine Beginner)
Charisma: 31 (Minor Divine Influence)
Unlocked Skills: NONE
Note: Considerable potential restrained by lack of experience.
"Eighteen in strength?" Maxime stared at his arms. "So what, I lift buildings?"
"No." Nyx manifested a curved sword of solidified darkness. "You can break a mortal's jaw with one punch, kick down a solid oak door, strangle a wolf with your bare hands. Impressive for a human. Pathetic for what awaits you."
She threw the sword. Maxime caught it by reflex, surprised by its weight—or rather, its lack of weight. The blade seemed to be made of concentrated void, absorbing light instead of reflecting it.
"First test. Survival." Nyx snapped her fingers.
The temple floor exploded.
Black shapes burst from the cracks, humanoid but twisted, with limbs too long and faceless visages. They swarmed like cockroaches, a dozen, two dozen, too many to count. Their impossible mouths opened to reveal rows of jagged teeth.
[CORRUPTED SHADOWS — LEVEL 3–5]
Danger: Low (individually) / Moderate (in group)
Weakness: Divine light, fire, enchanted weapons
"Are you serious?!" Maxime shouted, backing away, sword raised in front of him.
"Perfectly." Nyx had teleported onto a column, legs crossed, watching the scene as one might watch a performance. "Don't die. That would be embarrassing."
The first Shadow lunged. Maxime slashed instinctively, and to his great surprise, the black blade split the creature in two. It dissipated into screaming smoke. But three more had already replaced it, attacking from different angles.
Shit, shit, SHIT!
Maxime dodged the first—too slowly; claws raked his shoulder, burning like acid. He countered the second, but the third slammed into his ribs with the force of a battering ram. The air left his lungs. He crashed into a broken column.
Pain exploded, sharp and real. Too real. His back had hit the stone with a sickening crack, and his left arm hung at an odd angle.
"Fuck!" The curse escaped between clenched teeth. The Shadows were converging, a writhing mass of darkness and fangs.
"Use your mana!" Nyx's voice rang out from her column. "Feel it flowing within you! It's a river, a fire, a storm! Call it!"
How?! Maxime thought desperately. But something inside him—that part of Eros that was not quite dead—knew. It was instinctive, like breathing, like blinking.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second and felt it.
A heat in his gut. No—deeper. In his very soul. A reservoir of raw power waiting patiently to be released. Maxime plunged into it mentally, clumsily, like a child learning to swim.
The mana answered.
It surged through his veins like liquid lava, painful and exhilarating at once. The sword of darkness in his hand began to vibrate, to glow with violet light.
[SKILL UNLOCKED: IMBUED STRIKE (RANK F)]
Description: Infuses a weapon with raw mana to increase its destructive power.
Cost: 15 Mana
Maxime did not have time to read. He slashed horizontally, and this time the blade left a luminous trail in its wake. Five Shadows were instantly disintegrated, their screams tearing through the twilight air.
The others hesitated. Just one second. Just enough.
Maxime charged.
What followed was a chaotic slaughter. He struck without technique, without grace, just a brutal succession of blows fueled by adrenaline and rage. His lacerated shoulder burned, his back protested with every movement, but he did not stop. He could not stop.
When the last Shadow dissipated, Maxime collapsed to his knees, panting. His hands were trembling. The sword slipped from his numb fingers and dissolved into smoke.
Mana: 22/142
Injuries: Left shoulder laceration (moderate), dorsal contusions (severe), muscular fatigue (critical)
Nyx landed in front of him with the lightness of a feather, not a drop of sweat on her perfect brow.
"Not bad." She crouched, examining his bloodied shoulder. "You survived. That's more than most demigods manage in their first fight."
"You…" Maxime spat blood—when had he bitten his tongue? "You could have intervened."
"I could have." Her fingers brushed the wound, and an intense cold sensation flooded Maxime. The flesh was closing, slowly, tissues regenerating under the influence of primordial magic. "But you needed to understand something: you are no longer in your comfortable world. Here, everything wants to kill you. Monsters, gods, even the landscape sometimes. If I protect you from every scratch, you will remain weak. And weakness…" Her gaze hardened. "…weakness will get you killed. Permanently, this time."
Maxime wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat. She was right. He knew it. That death under the truck had been a stupid accident, the result of someone else's carelessness. But in this world of gods and monsters, every mistake would be his own. And he would not get a second chance.
"How long before Bastet?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse.
Nyx smiled, and this time there was something almost maternal in her expression.
"Two weeks. You will train every day until you can defeat these Shadows without injuring yourself. Then we will leave for Bubastis." She helped him to his feet, her arm supporting his battered back. "And Maxime?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for coming back." Her voice was so low he almost did not hear it. "Even if you don't remember yet, even if you hate me sometimes for what I do… thank you."
Before he could answer, she pulled him against her. Her body was cold like the vacuum of space, but her arms were gentle, protective, desperately tight, as if she feared he might evaporate.
Maxime said nothing. He simply closed his eyes and breathed, letting the exhaustion wash over him.
Somewhere in the frozen sky, the two moons shone eternally, silent witnesses to a goddess who had waited three thousand years to find the man she loved.