Sahshir should have attacked at once.

Narcissa and Dakan were fleeing into the Sanctum as he spoke. But he knew how dangerous Garacel was and wanted to avoid making a mistake. So he took a stance and waited as Garacel observed him. Then, the two began to circle one another, looking for weaknesses in their guards.

The truth was he would lose and be forced to retreat. If so, Garacel would pursue Dakan. Therefore, his best hope was to hold Garacel at bay for a time and then withdraw.

"There have been one or two problems, as there always are," said Garacel. "But I am well enough content with how things have turned out.

"What of you, Kalthakian? Does the destruction of your enemies bring you joy?"

"By you?" asked Sahshir. "Only disgust."

Garacel raised his sword and prepared for a strike. Sahshir mirrored the motion. "I wonder what made you so determined to confront me. Indeed, you could have left Dakan here to face me and gone yourself.

"Narcissa and Alkela would have been an easier target."

"You invaded my home. And hurt those that belong to me," said Sahshir. It was more personal than he would like to admit.

"I have invaded many places, and all have trembled beneath my footsteps," said Garacel. "Though yours was more challenging than most, your vendetta is hardly new. For I am Garacel, and few are they who can stand against me and live.

"Still, I have a vendetta of my own. It will take some time for me to regain the servants you destroyed. I will face you again, sword to sword. And let the strongest triumph."

"So be it," said Sahshir.

Then, they surged at one another. Sahshir found his blade moving almost of its own accord. He lashed out again and again, moving ever faster. But Garacel moved with natural confidence and could not harm the living armor.

Then Garacel lashed out. Sahshir bent backward and avoided losing his head. He saw the blade gleaming slowly as it passed by his eyes. Then, falling to his hands, he backflipped away to gain distance.

But even as he landed, Garacel was on him. The Sword of Order was raised, and the blow rang. There they stood, locked, will against will, blade against blade. Garacel had the advantage; his blade's weight was like a mountain, and Sahshir was forced to one knee. He was losing. But Garacel had an imbalanced stance.

Rolling forward, Sahshir slipped away from the blade. Slashing, he caught Garacel in the leg. The living armor reeled, and he stumbled black. Sahshir pressed his advantage and drove his enemy before him. Again, Garacel met him in combat, and the Sword of Order flashed this time.

Garacel's blade shattered. Sahshir's sword passed through toward his heart. But Garacel turned mid-thrust and caught the edge in one hand. The impact of it cracked and bent the fingers, but the Sword of Order was halted. The gauntlet began to melt.

"Very swift," said Garacel. "A strike akin to lightning itself. Let me demonstrate my own." He raised one palm.

Sahshir tried to free his sword and realized he wouldn't have the chance. He let go and ducked just in time for a barrage of pink lightning to surge past where he had been. He felt the electrifying heat on his skin, which burned him as he fell. After that, he hardly ever felt anything. The bolt struck a nearby building, and the walls began to melt around it. In moments, the entire structure collapsed into nothingness.

Garacel gripped the Sword of Order in his hand. But the blade was caught between his melted fingers. He tore it out With a snarl, breaking his gauntlet and raising the sword. He examined it. "A great weapon. Once, long ago, Valranor bade me wield it in his stead. I was always the greater warrior between us." He raised the weapon. "You have grown, Kalthakian. Your power has increased drastically in such a short time. Such is the way of the Lord of Knights."

"The Lord of Knights?" Sahshir felt a chill. That title was-

"One of the names of Elranor," said Garacel. "Though ill-fitting. The blood of the God of Healing runs through your veins. I know it by how you wield that blade."

"You lie," said Sahshir.

"I never lie directly," said Garacel. "Deception is far easier with a grain of truth. But this is neither. You who serve Baltoth are descended from his greatest enemy. An irony well worth savoring."

He took a stance as Sahshir drew out two daggers. If he pretended to be off-balance, he could catch Garacel off-guard. "My strength is my own!"

"Of course it is," said Garacel, walking forward limply. "So Elranor would have you believe. But in the end, your strength is what has been granted to you. Mine is more than that.

"Mine is the power eternal!"

Then he surged forward. But his leg slowed him, and as he struck with the Sword, Sahshir rolled away. Jamming his kunai between the joint of Garacel's leg, he leaped over a slash and vaulted over Garacel. As he did, he stopped the dagger into the former god's neck, or where it would be. Landing, he drew out one last blade before driving it under his armpit toward his spectral heart.

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"I told you," said Sahshir. "My strength is my own."

"...Believe what you will." gasped Garacel. "My will is done."

Then his armor collapsed. The straps holding it together broke as the flames burned with an unyielding passion. Then it was spent, and nothing remained but dust.

Sahshir drew the Sword of Order and sheathed it. From there, he turned and walked toward the gates. He was probably going to have to kill Narcissa in a moment. He felt nothing at the prospect.

It was odd.

Sahshir had not been like other men for as long as he could remember. He needed to figure out exactly where he was different. But he thought in ways foreign to them. He would see things that horrified them and find them unremarkable. Once, when Sushaki and Kushina were playing in a tree, he accidentally knocked Kushina off.

She'd sprained her ankle and had cried. So Sushaki had gone to her at once. So had Sahshir because that was what friends did. He'd known she was hurt, that he should be concerned. He'd known that he ought to help her, and he did.

But he hadn't cared.

He knew she was in pain, but the fact didn't matter to him. What mattered was maintaining their friendship. And helping her was part of that.

The world was a sea of obligations. There were things one ought to do and things one ought not to do. Life was about fulfilling the expectations you were given. But Aresh had abandoned those obligations. He'd left to fulfill what he regarded as a higher purpose. Unfortunately, in doing so, he had made it impossible for Sahshir to meet his.

That was why he had gone to kill him on that day.

Sahshir stopped as he saw the corpse of Dakan. It lay without ahead. Looking around, he saw no sign of the head. But his hat was lying some ways away, soaked in blood.

Now, he was delving deeper and deeper into the Sanctum of Zigildrazia. Wandering into the depths that were contrary to everything Baltoth stood for. There was a domain of ceaseless depravity and narcissism. A place where people did not act for a higher purpose. But neither did they perform as they ought to work, but because they wanted to act. And at the head was Zigidrazia, Lady of Sloth and Lust.

Narcissa had been beneficial. Sahshir would have preferred not to kill her, yet he wouldn't mind doing it. Was there something wrong with that?

Whether there was or not, he soon passed the passage where he had found the Grail of Immortality. He walked now alone into uncharted halls. The flagstones were breaking apart. In their place was a substance that was like glass but clearer. And beyond that glass, he could see visions of hell and endless depravity.

And then, at long last, he entered the place he had been seeking.

There stood the Blade of Chaos. It was impaled into a massive, still-beating heart that floated high above a throne at the far end of a gilded hall. Many hundreds of weapons and armor were hung from the walls with all manner of emblems. And there lounged Zigildrazia. She had taken on a form older than he would have expected. Nine tails came from her back, hairless and multicolored, with wicked-looking blades.

Four were wrapped around Narcissa and her twin, running over their bodies. Zigildrazia herself leaned on one arm of her throne. As he entered, she brightened up. "Ah, Abdul Sahshir. The would-be hero. I must thank you for destroying that decadent old piece of armor.

"Garacel lasted in it far longer than I would have anticipated. He kept himself alive in it more out of principle than anything else. I was becoming concerned he would never die.

"Tell me, what do you think of my handmaidens?"

Sahshir hurled a dagger at her. Zigildazia caught it between two fingertips and looked at him. "Hmm, excellent, make this. Nothing too fancy. Still, some of the angles make it less aerodynamic.

"I don't usually work on kunai, but I could improve this somewhat."

Sahshir rushed at her, Blade of Order swinging down. Zigildrazia did not look up, but her tails slashed out, forcing him to withdraw. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and saw he'd been injured.

Well, so much for confronting her. He looked at the wall and noticed tapestries. How many were there?

"Oh, you noticed them," said Zigildrazia. "I don't much enjoy them as decoration, but it's a rare act of principle on my part. You see, you aren't the first would-be hero to barge into my halls and try to kill me.

"I have entire rooms dedicated to my prizes.

"I've faced millions of would-be heroes. And I'm not making a poetic exaggeration when I say that. I counted."

As she talked, Sahshir drew out a bandage and began to wrap it around himself. Zigildrazia watched in bemusement. "One of those silent, detached sorts, are we? Not my type, I'm afraid. I've always preferred heroic adventurers trying to do the right thing. Especially when they ultimately fall short of their impossible standard.

"Paladins are a particular favorite. I've taken to collecting them. All are still alive and well, of course. Physically, at any rate."

Sahshir finished bandaging his cut. She wasn't even taking him seriously, was she? Well, it was justified. He wouldn't be able to defeat her directly.

"No matter," said Zigildraia, setting the twins down. "You're just in time to see the unleashing of Typhos. But, my dears, do deal with him. It should be entertaining."

The two twins landed and readied their weapons. Sahshir took a stance as they advanced on him. How did he win here? By achieving his goal. What was his purpose? To retrieve the Blade of Chaos and stop Typhos's rising,

He ran for a wall, grabbed a sword handle, and began to pull himself up to it. He narrowly avoided an axe cutting off his foot as he did.

He scaled up and moved the sword to the heart above the throne. Below, he saw Zigildrazia raising a tail. A beam of violet light shot out. Sahshir leaped quickly and caught hold of a shield, even as the light blasted where he had been. Then, it began to move toward him. Quickly, he scrambled higher, desperately trying to stay ahead of more beams.

Then he was near the heart. But beams were coming at him from every direction. He leaped for the Blade of Chaos. He drew his sword and rammed it into the seat as he did. His hand gripped the blade, drawing it out as he fell back.

There was an unholy roar of fury.

The ceiling cracked and began to break apart as he fell. The gilded walls collapsed as the trophies of Zigildrazia faded. He hit the ground at a roll and found himself within a small round chamber. But the ceiling was torn apart, and a shadow was cast over the stars. The innumerable heads of Typhos peered down upon them. They were lions, serpents, dragons, goats, and many others. Sahshir could see thousands of legs of all kinds as the shadow that had been growing now took on a new form.

"Queen Typhos!" said Zigildrazia with a flourishing bow. "An honor as always."