Tyr panted, covered in a fine layer of sweat, blood and grime. The silver armor faded from his flesh, and the wings did the same, scattering into motes of light. He lay in a crater, back against the ground, occupying the body of his not so illusory self. All was silence, the faux fight 'won'. With another coming, presumably.

Benny's head poked itself over the lip of the crater that Tyr was uncomfortably plastered to the bottom of. “Yo.”

“...Yo.”

“Need a... Need a hand? Or something? Some water? Pulled pork sandwich?” Benny wasn't sure how to address Tyr, but thankfully his best friend was still alive. The sight of what had just happened still troubled him, unable to reconcile it all. In the back of his mind, they were all wonder what exactly Tyr was, it was endless mystery with that guy and it had started to irk some of them. Benny slid down the crater and pulled Tyr free, literally peeling him off the surface of the ground, but there was no pain, just a fading discomfort. Upon cresting the incline of the artificial depression in the earth, they came face to face with everyone. All of them gathered around the edge and speaking in hushed tones. Octavian meditating shirtless on the ground as the wicked bruise on his chest slowly began to heal. Slowly, but as sure as anything. He always wore robes, or some kind of padded finery, appearing very much the emperor. Now, he revealed his rigid and stony physique for the first time, hard enough to be cut from granite, rippling with muscle from head to toe.

The titanic form of a true primus.

“Yeah, so...” Benny scratched his head nervously. “I'm gonna need you to tell me what the hell just happened.”

“I would also like to know.” Jartor said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You've awakened?”

“No. Maybe... Shit, I have no idea what's going on.” Tyr sighed, refuting the guess, even though he had no idea himself. Waving it away with a hand before seating himself and filling his mouth with as much food as it could manage. More slop, it was all he had left, but it tasted better than ever. When he was finished, he continued. “That was all fake. An illusion. That woman was a god and she just wanted me to look good in front of everyone else. Said if I let the lie happen, that my aspect would come to me sooner. Guess I am a primus after all, and the child you had with Charlotte is too, apparently. I asked.”

“...” They stared on with stunned faces, but not a single member of either side believed a word that he had just said. Except for Benny and Jura, and perhaps Kirk. The others had been more careful in their observations, assured that the thing they'd seen was no illusion. Yana was skill in the magic herself and frowned, unwilling to believe his claim – but understanding the humility behind it. At least in part.

“And what is your aspect?” Jartor's face was calm and stony, but his heart was leaping with joy. All of his doubts washed away. He doubted Tyr was telling the whole truth, but stranger things happened in astral gates and he'd just observed so many doppelgangers of his own son running about. Just eager to find out what kind of power he could expect to look after the next generation. In a new land, a new nation. The first expansion of their numbers since recorded history, if only by one.

“Don't know.” Tyr shrugged. “Don't want to know. Daito thinks it's love.”

“...Love?” Jartor crossed his arms. Falling into thought. Tyr had, in his youth, been a sensitive boy and very affectionate. But... Love? He doubted that, especially now, he was a primus and well capable of being loved by so many people if that's what he wanted. All he'd have to do is simply ask. “Well, it's as ridiculous as Octavian's boy so I suppose it's par for the course. Our job here is done?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Tyr said with a confident nod.

“Then let us begone from this place, and we can speak further on it.”

“Your job here is done. But mine is not.” Tyr crossed his arms. Both father and son tilting their head in a bizarre mimicry of one another. One of a normal stature while the other was a giant. Tyr stood at about 6'4'' now, but Jartor was simply too massive. Nobody looking at such a thing could think of him as anything but a child miming the expression of a father. “I will stay. The rest of you should leave now.”

“Leave?” Benny scowled. “There's no way we're going to leave you in here. Who's going to have your back?” Kirk agreed, not vocally, but a clacking of his metal sheathed claws was enough to get the point across.

“I'd assume they would.” Tyr jerked his head toward the others versions of himself. Slowly, their numbers had grown without much warning. How they came to be here was a mystery, and they didn't announce themselves. About twenty six of them based on a rushed headcount. Some of them shrugged, some nodded, but most didn't respond at all. Signe was looking down at her son with pride, but also a great deal of concern.

“You should not stay here. We can handle the rest, I understand enough to know that we've only a need to protect the ark. That tower.” She inclined her head toward the lonely structure in the distance, just visible above the lip before the terrain declined. “You do not have to be here for this, and I mean no insult, but you do not possess the power to deal with what's coming.”

“No, but I am the only person the administrator is capable of assimilating with in the space. Her own words, as soon as I leave this space will be closed again to us. But not the other way around.” It was hard to refuse that logic.

“And just what is coming?” Jartor said. “I will leave neither of you behind, you will return with me by force if necessary.”

“Might be hard.” Tyr said. “You and the other primus' are slowly losing your 'gift'. Including myself, except in this case it's my ability to heal so quickly. It'll return when you pass through the gate, but its a slow bleed. The longer you remain, the weaker you'll become. That's what I was told.”

“You should stop speaking with gods, boy.” Jartor could feel exactly what Tyr was describing, and had felt it since he and the others had entered this place. An instinct to indicate that they should not be here or any place like it. That it was alien to them, not under their authority. “But even without it, I will stay. How long?”

“Three hours.” Tyr replied. “Three hours and the gate will close as long as we stop whoever they are from destroying the tower. There will be a signal when we have to leave, so there's no need to keep time. Only survive. But truly, the rest of you should cross the rift and wait for me on the other side. As my mother said to me, you're not nearly strong enough. At least I can't die. But all of you... You can. I don't want you to die. Except for those paladins, they can do whatever they'd like.”

“...”

“I understand how you feel, and why you feel that way.” Lina said, attempting to resist the temptation of lambasting him. Every time he referred to the wider group... He could just ignore them, and that would be fine. But he always nitpicked. Identifying them separately from the others, just to insult them. “But...”

“Yes.” Tyr waved her rebuke away, he was already tired of the joke to begin with. He didn't care about her in the slightest, but the idea of listening to her prattling on about charter law was even worse. “As an understudy of Girshan who occupied a knight equivalent status in Sinea, you are my comrade. A knight, and a paladin – never forsakes a comrade. Therefore, despite not liking me very much, you will stand at my side so long as I walk upon the proper path?”

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Lina gulped. “Can you...”

“Read minds?” Tyr snorted. “Sure can. I am actually an inter-dimensional void horror that feasts on suns and defines the very concept of destruction. My power is infinite and I satiate myself on the faith of all sapient beings who worship me, most out of fear. I am simply masquerading in the flesh of a young human male to fool outside observers and remain hidden from the gaze of some great calamity that wants to gobble me up in turn. Cool?”

“...”

“...”

“Anyways...” Tyr continued. He'd never been much for comedy, and this was just another example that he was out of his league even trying. Another failure in a constant string of them, nobody was laughing, some of them even looked like that might believe him. “If you stay here, you could die. Probably will die. Like... It's almost a certainty. Look at them.” He pointed. “Those are primus', the greatest powers mankind has to offer. Three of them. I'm not including myself, because I am just a frail thing. Primus', and some kind of space cops that run about the rift killing monsters and have done so for decades or perhaps even centuries. You're just normal people. I'm immortal, whereas you are not. Some of you are objectively stronger than me, but it's a fact that I cannot die and that's my advantage here. Just go. That being that you saw... She was like a drain plug, and once we pulled it free, all the water was bound to come rushing in.”

“Not a chance.” Xavier, surprisingly, was the first to step forward and first to speak. Crossing his arms

and displaying a confidence that Tyr hadn't seen in him. Neither had the others. Xavier was the type to follow and obey, a good thing too because his fast reactions to command had gotten them out of more than a few binds in the past. Usually. But Girshan had seen him change and mature until he'd refused to retreat before the werekin, accepting of death. Becoming a man, maybe, and he'd had three more years to change further. “If we leave this place to its own devices, and don't stay, what will happen?”

Tyr shrugged. “I have no idea. But it'd be bad. Really bad, it could destroy our world.”

“Then I'll stay. Whether you tell me to or not, you'll never convince me otherwise.” Benny said. “I cannot think of a more glorious death than standing at the gates of hell beside my brother in defense of an entire planet.”

Rafael beside him smiled softly. “My old mentor told me that there were only ever three or four moments in your life. Three or four moments we are given to be a hero. Some people think that you wake up a hero, br--”

“Anyone else want to speak?” Daito interrupted loudly, much to his old friends chagrin. “If you want to leave, leave, nobody will stop you, nor would it be dishonorable to do so. Most of you will die in any case, and as much as I love a good team building exercise, the fog is already pressing in and we need to prepare.”

Most nodded at that, it wasn't time to give speeches. Only the paladins left, or squires – in their case, leaving the only paladin behind – Lina. A few members of Benny's team, the members Tyr had never spoken with except in passing gave their goodbyes to the others, marching toward the gate. Men and women with families or prospects back home that took Tyr's words to heart. Nobody believed his claims about an 'illusion'. To them, staying was like throwing a glass of water on a burning house when a literal primus was claiming they were in danger, and not just the son. They were useless in a situation like this, and wouldn't die for no reason. Rafael insisted on staying, which was of no surprise. He was dramatic and obsessed with the concept of heroism, almost childish in his adherence to his chivalry code, but he was brave and worthy of respect. Felt the fear, and refused to bend to it.

The Hunter's that yet remained didn't stay either. Hogan looked troubled as he mulled it over in his head, passing them all a sad gaze before turning his back and marching out with the rest in tow. Their 'goodbye' a service of aiding the wounded in leaving the astral space. There weren't many Hunter's left, so they'd at least stay for some time to ensure there was a barrier on the other side to keep any undesirables out of Aurora. Hogan wasn't afraid to fight, or die if that was his destiny, but getting trapped in here forever was too tall an ask for him – and nobody could begrudge them that.

It was shocking enough that so many had willfully chosen to stay, staring off into that abyss with calm composure.

“A shame.” Tyr sighed. Despite his words, they needed more men. He wished for an army, a real barrier around the tower, even if they were all meat shields destined to die, it was a situation where that end justified those means. He didn't feel much of a bond connecting him to the outside world, that abstract concept of 'home'. No matter how many conversations he had with his father, Haran would never be his home again, and for all the rapidly escalating contrivances this cursed placed held more positive memories for him.

His time in the forge with Jura, complaining about the food every day with the others. All with a purpose, he'd never been bored and he'd had a hand on his back or thigh as he slept. The dreams went away for the most part, only coming sporadically over months rather than every time he closed his eyes. And he'd learned so much here, given the time and a comfortable enough place to lay his head, collect his thoughts... Practice. Maybe he wasn't talented at much, but three years was a long time to make up the difference between himself and some others. Long enough to read a hundred books and tomes, to hone his magic and forging techniques.

In many ways, this place had healed him. Even if only a little, lifting that weight on his soul. Cursed, warped, maybe even the closest a thing could be to evil, he couldn't help but feel some reluctance at the idea of leaving it.

“Oddly enough.” Jura weaved her arm through his to wrap herself around his torso, squeezing him affectionately. She had changed too, like a new person. The old her was always there, still glaring down at people who's eyes lingered overlong. Except, now, instead of offering to fight them herself – it was apparently Tyr's right to have a 'first go at it'. And vice-versa, if someone was bothering him. It was... A strange custom. “I think I'm going to miss this place.”

“Really?” Tyr asked, turning his head toward hers and earning a fat wet kiss directly on the chin. She had plucked the thoughts right out of his head. They didn't have a great deal in common, merely sharing in their exclusive interests as much as they could, but they agreed on things more often than not from an ideological standpoint.

“You're too tall.” She hummed. “I thought humans were supposed to stop growing earlier in their life.”

“I will forge the finest pair of stilts for my lady orcling so that she might bend down and peck at my forehead on future rendezvous.” Tyr's face was flat, but his eyes were bright.

“I'll hold you to that, and yes.” Jura snorted, pulling away and turning to look at the castle. What remained of it, at least. Born of mana, it'd die in mana, slowly decomposing and splitting apart as if ages were passing every moment. The tiny figures of mages flitting about and scavenging the crumbling remains was... Well, the duality of man or something like that, even in the face of an impending crisis they were taking anything of worth. “I've never stayed in one place for so long. The food wasn't great, but it was the first time since my childhood in the tribe that my belly was consistently full. I really enjoyed working with you on all of your projects. I love that passion in you, I just wish it weren't so hard to bring out sometimes. And... I think we've both changed and become better than who we were before. In your case, it seemed you learned how to hold a half decent conversation, though you're certainly no talent at it.” She laughed.

Sometimes Tyr forgot that she'd been a slave most of her life. How little privilege she'd experienced, of course this must've been like a vacation to her – much more so than himself. Despite the fel atmosphere, there stay in the space had been akin to a countryside villa resort. There had even been swimming pools inside, once the mages started building, they'd never stopped over the years. And now, all of that was quite literally crumbling to dust and debris before their very eyes. It was sad, forced to watch as the natural process of decay was exacerbated by 'magic'.

They'd have time enough to mourn in the future, the fog had already begun to move once again. And Tyr found himself back to that wishing for an army.