“5 sections of the city are of note.” The runesmith says, holding a tablet in his hand as Trista sits in a large, hamster-like chair. Her arms rest on the chair’s arms. People are strapping her in, attaching tubes to her flesh as she rests her head on the back of the chair.

  “Tell me about them.” She says, closing her eyes as the chair folds around her head, attaching to it.

  “The first section, the farthest, is in the industrial sector of the city. Within is an overlapping of the domains of over 2 thirds of the present gods. The area is constantly dying and decaying, then springing back into regrowth, roots and trees and bushes bursting from the ground and attacking before withering to nothing, leaving behind decaying and rotting curses and afflictions behind. Every commander is in battle within this region. They are still alive due to the enhancements and weapon empowerments they’ve taken.”

  “Gods brought in from somewhere else, I assume. Perhaps the volcanic regions.” Trista notes as another tube is attached to her arms.

  “The second zone of interest is the primary area of resistance. The largest grouping of both attacking and defenders. It’s also the area where survivors have been organized. Any survivors have been brought here and hidden in an underground panic house within a large root of the tree.”

  “A smart location. Too far and the safehouse will be easy to siege. Too close and they can be attacked at the same time as the tree.”

  “The third location is the trunk of the tree itself. Aftermath wars with the General and Grand General there.

  “The fourth and fifth locations, I find more interesting. The first 3 we predicted. These 2… we did not.”

  “Oh?” She frowns. Unexpected variables are never good.

  “The fourth is a zone of cold. A kilometer in diameter, with a demiwyvern battling with that slave woman owned by commander Akabis.”

  “Strange.” she says. “What tier was he?” She knows how powerful that woman is, even for her tier. Were she still tier 3, she doubted she could have won. At least, not without severe injury.

  “Tier 2.” That gives her pause.

  “A tier 2 as strong as she? Interesting. But ultimately not a concern. Is the other location similar?”

  “Yes. A zone of flickering darkness, roughly the same diameter. Commander Akabis battles with a demidragon, like he is. Something commander Akabis did dispelled the darkness, but they are still fighting, and it looks fairly equal from what our drones are seeing.”

  “This is all good to know.” She says. “Let’s begin. Send me in.”

  <{(0)}>

  The Grand General is forced to dodge yet another root of the tree as the land around him came alive to kill him. His ally, the General, was not quite helpful. Corpses dangling from vines don’t tend to get up and fight.

  “You shouldn’t have come here, you know.” I say as I look down at the man. “This invasion will ultimately fail.”

  True shift

  My form warps until a dragon of bone floats midair in front of him.

  “I know.” The Grand General says, looking up at me, arms crossed. “Under normal circumstances, this would never have succeeded. You have power, connections, and millenia of gaining power against us. And most of all, this land is ruled by a primordial, and guarded by an ancient living tree, infused with the karma of that same primordial.” We stand opposite each other, poised for an attack, ready for anything.

  “Then I had a thought. I can’t fight a primordial. Not on my own. So… I just had to get my own.”

  And that’s when I felt it. A ripple in the fabric of space. Every god felt it at once. All the fighting across the entire city, for just a single moment, came ot a stop, as all the spatial gates in the canopy flickered and broke down. All but one, which grew and warped in shape. Into a shape like a square turned 45 degrees and stretched. A diamond.

  “No.” I whisper, frozen in place as I watch something exit the new portal. A steel behemoth, nearly as large as I am, glowing gold between the joints. “What have you done?”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Exactly what I had to.” He says. The armor peels back just enough to reveal his manic grin, before closing over it again. “Meet 23PHY-R. Our own primordial monstrosity, built to kill you. Once you’re at deaths door, I’ll finish you off. Then… I’ll be a god”

  <{(0)}>

  “What the everliving SHIT is that?!” I shout, whipping my head over to Pyro.

  ‘How am I supposed to know?!’ He counters, eyes likely as wide as mine under the mask.

  “You work for them!”

  ‘I-... fair enough.’ He frowns. ‘Seems I wasn’t told the whole plan. That thing… ugh.’ He runs a hand through his hair before turning back to me. ‘Seems they’re escalating the fight. Lets match that.’

  I just stare at him for a moment before grinning. “Yes. Lets.” I leap forward, trident in hand. The moment I’m a few feet from him I shoot 3 separate shadow bolts, one above him and one to both sides of him. Then, I fall into my own shadow.

  <{(0)}>

  Shit. Which shadow bolt will he come out of? I slash one bolt with my sickle, then send my flying sickles after the other 2, rending the 3 completely. Yet he didn’t come out of any of them.

  I let out a grunt of pain as his trident stabs near my right arm on my back. I had forgotten he could come out of my own shadow, dammit. I void step before he can pull his trident out, reappearing behind him and slashing down on his right wing with all the strength I can muster. The blade cleaves through the appendage, leaving a bloody stump in its wake as blood spurts out. He lets out a shout of pain and forms a shadow bolt that he dives into, vanishing. He reappears a distance away under the shadow of a pile of rubble. One of the problems of being in a city torn to shreds, it seems, is that Abhor can teleport anywhere he wants.

  ‘One of us has to die.’ I say, gripping my sickles tighter. ‘I’ve dug my hole already. Have you?’

  “Six feet deep.” Abhor agrees, gritting his teeth. Dark mana slithers up to the stump, forming a barrier of dark mana to stop the bleeding of his slightly purple blood. “But I refuse to lose what I have now.”

  ‘That makes the two of us.’ I respond, narrowing my eyes behind my mask. Abhor looks down at me.

  Demishift

  What stands before me now is a creature that would make Marco race around in joy. A black dragon, maybe 6 meters tall, and more than thrice that from snout to tail. The dragon is missing a wing, and has gaping wounds all across his body, plugged with dark mana that pools around him, forming an ominous scene.

  “I know I shouldn’t blame you.” He says, his voice calm, but with something hidden inside. “But I do. These people you choose to align yourself with. They’re monsters. They took my home. They took my mom. They mutilated my dad.” What tipped me off was how calm his voice was. He didn’t raise his voice. He just looked into my eyes, mana slowly pooling in his throat as he spoke. “Maybe I’ll die. In fact, I probably will. I can’t win against you. I don’t have the skill. But I want you to remember this. Even if I die, it’s not the end. I will make gods damned sure that no matter what it takes, no matter what I lose, Camica will burn to the ground.”

  Now I realize what it is in his eyes. A kind of agony that could only truly be borne of love. Or losing that love. Grief. I recognize it. I recognize it all too well. And it hurts to see it. It hurts to know I’m fighting on behalf of people who could cause that look in someone's eyes. Yet I still lift up my blade, and form a shield of mana.

  The blast that rips out of his throat slams into the shield. The shield does not break. When he closes his mouth, I’ve already void stepped next to him. I sink the blade into his neck.

  Demishift

  Before it could sink more than an inch in, he shifts back to his demiform, falling to the ground. He coughs blood as dark liquid pours from out of his neck. He tries to bring his mana to bear, to fill the hole. But no mana responds. His mana pool is empty.

  “I lose.” He says, looking up at me. Yet no despair enters his eyes. No fear for his life. This boy has been through the wringer, I can see. And now I have to kill him. Seems Phoebe was right.

  <{(0)}>

  Me and Phoebe stand atop a large boulder, both bloody and beaten. My months of training had benefitted me in my battle against her, but the fight had been set in stone. After she broke out of the ice, we had fought more, until the steel monstrosity arrived. Then we turned our focus to the fight between Abhor and Pyro, as Phoebe told me his name was.

  “Hes going to kill him” Phoebe says, sounding sad. Not for the death of Abhor, but that Pyro is doing it. “I told him he would have to do something he would regret.” She turns to me. Then pauses when she sees my expression.

  “You are calm. Is that not your brother? He’s about to die.”

  “I know.” I say, my voice rigid. “I hate seeing it. But Abhor isn’t a fool. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “You think he’s going to turn it around? He’s about to get decapitated.”

  “I know he is.” I say. I turn to Phoebe. “I have faith.”

  <{(0)}>

  I stand over Grand General Brennen. The man is beaten bloody, his armor shattered to reveal his face as he glares up at me. I stand on top of the smashed machine, hit in just the right spots to sever the connection to its link.

  “This was supposed to work.” He groans, stumbling to his feet and coughing blood. “You were supposed to be weakened.”

  “I was.” I say, lifting my axe up. “And yet you weren't strong enough.” I turn to look down. Far below, within the city, I can see the blood red sickle catch the light. I turn to Brennen.

  “Seems you get a second chance.”

  It was then that the entire world screeched to a halt.

  <{(0)}>

  ‘Goodbye, Abhor.’ Pyro says, lifting the sickle up. ‘May we meet again in the afterlife. I look up at him as he pulls back. I make no move to dodge. I grin.

  “We will meet sooner than that.”

  The blade comes down. It contacts my flesh. It severs the spine. The head falls off.

  {You have died}

  {Would you like to use skill:“Throughout time”?}