Chapter 42: Goren: The Liar

  When Goren landed inside Dolos’ realm through the portal Aureon had opened, he immediately realized the ex-Knight wasn’t with him.

  “Damn it.” He muttered.

  ‘He probably threw Aureon into a different location.’ Goren thought. ‘The bastard hadn’t just been expecting us – he already activated his first trap.’

  And still, assuming their plan hadn’t changed despite the setback, Goren knew Aureon would head to the end point either way. And if Goren did so as well, they would definitely meet there.

  The end point? Dolos’ throne room.

  According to Aureon, the only sure way to kill a god was by destroying their Blessed Core – a sacred object used to house their divine essence. An idol, in a sense. For Chronos, it was an invisible basin, hidden in his realm. For Dolos, based on what Aureon had learned, it was his Spartan helm – a relic from his mortal life, now resting in the throne room of this twisted domain.

  But even then, destroying such a powerful relic wouldn’t be easy. Goren would have to focus ever last shred of strength – maybe even put this new life of his on the line – to make sure it was obliterated, and Dolos was weakened to the point of near-death.

  He looked up. What greeted him was a clear sky, the sun hanging motionless in the exact center of it. Around him stretched rolling green hills and endless flower-dappled fields.

  ‘Disgusting. Fake. All of it.’ He thought, reminding himself of what Dolos’ realm truly was.

  A lie. An Illusion.

  Because if one looked closely, they’d see the truth: every blade of grass was a bloodsucking worm. Every flower, a snake waiting to lunge. And even the sweetest smells in the breeze were nothing more than poisonous gas for those trying to breathe them in.

  In the distance stood a quaint farmhouse, perfectly still, overlooking the whole landscape.

  That was the place.

  There, inside the barn – which wasn’t actually a barn - Goren would find Dolos’ throne room. He remembered it clearly from the first time he met the Lying God – when Dolos recruited him for his world’s Battle, promising him dreams, but handing out nightmares.

  Considering their messy entrance, Goren knew to expect retaliation. It wouldn’t be easy reaching the barn. But he knew he had to do it. There won’t be a better opportunity.

  He had to kill Dolos.

  That would be his true redemption. Not helping Chronos. No – this. His true redemption would be removing Dolos from the equation for good.

  He exhaled sharply and broke into a sprint toward the distant farmhouse.

  It didn’t take long before his earlier suspicions proved right.

  Shadows twisted into shape across the field ahead, spawning monsters in his path. At first, they were simple – twisted warriors and archers. But then came the bigger ones: giant scorpions, spiders, centipedes, and the devilish, unmistakable Grave Moles.

  That was when Goren realized the entire ensemble wasn’t just random. Dolos was reminding him of the Tomb of Gaelith. The place where Goren had once stood against Erebus to protect his world. The place where, despite his efforts, he had ultimately failed, and Spellsword had to finish the job.

  “He still thinks he can get into my head.” Goren muttered. ‘Good. Let him think that.’

  He summoned the Orb of Light into his hands – a weapon gifted to him by Chronos. Its core function was simple: an orb of light that could reshape into any weapon the wielder imagined.

  First, he turned the Orb into twin daggers – his favorite from back when he was still just a mortal man – splitting it into two and watching as it solidified into two glowing, curved blades.

  He lunged forward, cutting a straight path through the swarm. He slashed and dashed through the horde without slowing, his blades cutting everyone into pieces with ease.

  But something was wrong.

  No matter how fast he moved or how many monsters fell, the farmhouse never got any closer.

  “Another illusion. Of course.” He growled.

  But before he could change his strategy, the shadows ahead twisted together, merging into a single terrifying shape – one he knew far too well.

  The Right Hand of Darkness - a monstrous figure cloaked in shadow, wielding a cleaver the size of two men. A direct agent of Erebus.

  Back during his Battle, he had fought against it multiple times. And died. Every. Single. Time.

  But now…he chuckled.

  Because this wasn’t even the real thing. Just another illusion, another trick from Dolos.

  There would be no rematch – not that he needed one. His world was already safe. And this thing in front of him? This was a pale imitation.

  Shaking his head, still smiling, Goren transformed his daggers into a large bow and pulled back a single glowing arrow.

  Then he released it.

  The shadowy beast tried to escape, but it couldn’t outrun the explosion. Light erupted across the field, devouring the monster, and any others close to it, in an instant.

  Gone.

  Goren nodded in satisfaction. His path was clear.

  Or so he thought.

  More monsters emerged, surrounding him once again.

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  Growing tired of the charade, and acting on a hunch, he turned the bow into a spear and hurled it at the ever-distant farmhouse with all his might.

  Suddenly, still far from its goal, the spear struck something mid-air – an invisible wall.

  The spear cracked it on impact.

  Then everything shattered.

  The world fractured like glass – sky, grass, flowers, monsters, the farmhouse ahead – all crumbling into shards.

  Goren stood alone in pitch darkness.

  Then the dark peeled away, and everything returned back to its previous state.

  Well, expect one thing.

  Goren was already there. The farmhouse stood before him.

  He glanced around, searching for Aureon – but the ex-Knight was nowhere in sight.

  Then he heard it: the sound of clashing blades behind the barn.

  He moved quickly, peeking over the corner, and saw Aureon locked in battle with Dolos, swords flashing with divine fury. On top of Dolos' head - just like Aureon said - were two dark horns.

  Goren’s first instinct was to jump in and help his friend. But he stopped, reminding himself about the mission.

  The best way he could help Aureon wasn’t by fighting. He’d just be deadweight in a fight between two actual gods.

  No. the best way to help was by destroying the helm.

  Nodding to himself, he turned and slipped into the barn.

  Inside, the barn was already the familiar throne room. Just vast dark, empty space, choked with smoke. At the end of it stood a silver throne, and before it hovered a shattered mirror, suspended in mid-air.

  Goren stepped forward, approaching the broken mirror first. It was Dolos’ window to his Champion, and if he was lucky, he could glimpse their identity before finishing the job.

  He peered into the fractured surface and saw the Expo inside the Divine.

  There, among the many people gathered, he was even able to spot Viktor.

  But the image quickly turned blurry, flickering, and broken. It seemed that just like Chronos, Dolos too was suffering with vision issues due to Solvane’s unique architecture.

  Well, one thing was clear. Dolos’ Champion was at the Expo as well. Which reduced the number of suspects to…yeah, it hadn’t reduced even one.

  He turned toward the throne, circling it to find the helm. Set on a silver pedestal attached to the back of the silver chair, rested the Spartan helm.

  Goren touched it once just to make sure it was the real thing and not another illusion. Once he confirmed that, he turned the Orb of Light into a sword.

  Then he raised it overhead, channeling his essence into it.

  As Chronos had explained, even minor deities such as Goren now held immense soul power. Not on the level of gods, but enough. If poured out all at once, enough to destroy something like this.

  The last part was only Aureon’s assumption, but Goren was willing to test the theory.

  And so he did.

  He accepted the possibility it would kill him, and in his mind, his life flashed before him – his family, Spellsword, Pixelle. And before her image could convince him to stop, he brought the sword down on the helm.

  It shattered instantly and the explosion was so instant and violent, it hurled Goren backward across the throne room. He slammed into the far edge – where the floor ended and an abyss started.

  “What did you do?” A familiar voice shouted out. “What in the world had you done?!”

  Goren raised his head, surprised and relived to still be alive, just in time to see Dolos stumbling into the throne room.

  The god’s face was pale with panic.

  Just the sight filled Goren with joy. “You’re dead now! That’s what I did! Now Aureon can – “

  He stopped mid-sentence as he looked past Dolos.

  Aureon wasn’t there.

  Panic crept in. Was Goren too late? Had Dolos killed him outside?

  Then Dolos just laughed.

  “Oh, please, Goren. It’s not even fun for me anymore.” He shook his head with mock disappointment. “For me, it’s similar to how a human can block an ant’s path by drawing lines with a pen. Funny at first. Then you just start to wonder what you’re doing with your life. I mean, where’s the challenge? You understand what I mean, right?”

  Goren clenched his fists, refusing to accept the subtle implications of his words.

  “Where is Aureon?”

  Dolos shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”

  Before Goren could voice out his confusion, Dolos smirked and snapped his fingers.

  Instantly, an Illusion of Aureon appeared beside him – and when Dolos slashed at it, the illusion raised its radiant sword and parried the strike.

  Then Dolos snapped again, and his own form fully shifted into that of the ex-Knight.

  “You still don’t get it?” He said, now wearing Aureon’s face. “It was never really him you met with on the Bridge. Because it was never the real Realm Bridge you traveled through.”

  Goren froze.

  “Truth is, Goren, I’ve been following you since the day you made that third wish in my realm all those years ago – when you tried to make a fool out of me.” Dolos continued. “You thought you were so smug back then – but you know what they say: he who laughs last, laughs loudest.”

  He dropped the illusion and stepped forward, grinning.

  “Unbeknownst to you – or Chronos – you’ve been carrying inside your soul a shard of the System I’d lent you for your Battle. It was just a tiny sliver of it. Small enough for everyone to miss it, useful enough to allow me to peek into Chronos’ realm anytime I liked.”

  He paused, letting it sink in.

  “Let me break it down for you, since I know how slow you are: you’ve been my mole, Goren. For the past two thousand years. And thanks to you, I’ve learned a lot of interesting things.”

  Goren stood there, stunned. Everything he’d done – every attempt at redemption, every declaration of war against Dolos – was for nothing. Nothing because all this time he was still playing the Lying God’s tune.

  Even after severing all ties, even after sacrificing himself for victory, he’d still been a pawn.

  “Oh, and since you’re not making it out of here alive,” Dolos added casually, “I might as well tell you why I really brought you here."

  He grinned. “To kill you. That’s it. Simple enough even for you, don’t you think?”

  That much was already obvious to Goren.

  “The helm…” He muttered. “I assume it was a fake?”

  “You’re slowly catching up.” Dolos grinned, nodding in mock appreciation before snapping his fingers once again.

  The Spartan helm – the real one – appeared on his head. Though the two twisted horns protruded from it now.

  Goren’s attention was understandably drawn to them. “When Aureon – the real one – told us about the horns, I remember thinking: ‘That’s too far, even for him.’” He shook his head. “But apparently, there isn’t a low you won’t sink to, just to fulfill your maniacal, senseless revenge against Chronos.”

  “Maniacal? Yes. Senseless? Hardly.” Dolos replied calmly. “It’s not a simple grudge. He took my life once, and then he took it again. I can’t just – “

  “Shut up.” Goren cut him off, exhausted. Then his tone turned colder, accusing. “They’re all just excuses, and deep down, you know it. I’d even go as far as to say that deep inside you blame yourself for what happened to Arabella. Because if you hadn’t hoarded everything you learned, if you’d just shared with – “

  “Don’t say her name. Ever.” Dolos’ voice sliced through the air, growing dangerous. He pointed to the Orb of Light by Goren’s feet. “Pick it up. Fight for your life. You’ve failed to challenge me with your mind – at least try with your body.”

  Goren let out a dry laugh. “You can’t be serious. You’re a god. And I just burned half my soul to destroy a fake relic.”

  Dolos nodded. “Then I’ll even the odds.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  A bronze spear appeared in his right hand, and a round shield in his left. He struck the spear against the shield three times, turning to Goren again. “I’ll fight you as a human. As a Spartan. No divine magic. No illusions. Man to man.”

  Goren looked down at the Orb of Light, then back at Dolos. And for a moment, just a moment, he considered it.

  But then…clarity. Not hesitation. Not fear. Just clarity.

  That and the reminder of who he was facing – the God of Lies and Deception.

  “I’m not fighting you.” Goren said. “If you want me to fight you, then I don’t want to because it’s definitely a trick. I’m done playing your games. If you’re going to kill me, then get it over with.”

  Dolos smiled. “It’s a shame to kill you after you finally showed some intellectual progress but…very well.”

  Then, in the blink of an eye, he was right there – right in front of Goren.

  A spear had pierced straight through Goren’s chest. But it wasn’t the bronze one…No. This once was different. Silver. Vibrating with something powerful. Something evil.

  Goren gasped.

  The pain was both blinding and searing. He felt his insides burn.

  Before he could collapse, Dolos whispered one final goodbye.

  “You’ll be my first sacrifice to Pandemonium. But you won’t be the last. Everyone who follows Chronos will meet the same fate…before I tear him down too.”

  Then he kicked Goren off the edge – off the throne room, into the abyss below.

  And as Goren plunged into darkness, life escaping him, he heard a familiar voice echo inside his mind.

  Thanata.

  “Goren Shein, I do not grant you permission to die…yet.”