By the time they reached the city, the incident seemed far from Jonathan’s memory. He was more concerned with delivering himself and his closest allies to Cessation safely. As the group walked in through the gates of the city, he cast his gaze up along the avenue, watching a few hundred people stop what they were doing and cheer. He gave them a glum smile, a sight that should have energized him only making him apprehensive about everything there was to lose. He was a hero, sure, but a hero that had only completed a tiny fraction of his journey. Every circle from now on could spell his end. In fact, both Slothari and Granath had almost killed him. Even with all of his power, it was really up to chance whether he survived. The only way to ensure victory was to be overwhelmingly powerful.

He left Eva and the others behind at an intersection, his feet crunching against the cobbles as he used more of his speed to accelerate up the street and towards the palace. Before he left, he wanted to check in on Edgar and Hushar. Even more, he wanted to see what exactly Arkanon’s plans were. The city stretched out before him, with many of its residents still cowering within their homes. The Oozing Bastion must have been home to millions, but Jonathan only saw few thousand here and there, those brave enough to venture out into the unknown.

Miles passed in moments as he used his stamina, creating platforms of solid energy to push off instead of the streets, which would have cratered them, and likely harmed passersby. With his immense speed and agility, he was more than able to avoid anyone in his way, leaping over large groups and weaving around smaller ones. Most of the people in the city were still quite reserved, used to Slothari’s oppression, but a few of them spotted the flash of armor heading by, and recognized him for what he was. A few whispered expressions of gratitude drifted along the wind, following Jonathan as he traveled through the city he had liberated.

The gentle slope of the streets grew steeper as he neared the palace and he gathered his energy at the last moment, leaping over the final district and towards the top of the mountain that was the site of Slothari’s gigantic dwelling place. All of the circle lords seemed to enjoy grandeur, and many achieved that through the use of immense scales, creating gargantuan geometries that became the centerpoint of every land that they existed in. For Granath, this was justified, as his body had been immense, but Slothari could simply have changed her size to fit.

As Jonathan soared through the sky, he let himself take a deep breath and survey the arc of the world around him. For a few moments, he could see for hundreds of miles in every direction, looking out of the landscapes that had been forever changed from their previous incarnations as a desolate wasteland, and a dismal array of swamps and rotting mud.

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A chord of pride rang through his heart at all he had accomplished, despite how far he had really gone in the grand scheme of things. While he had only stepped into the shoals of true power, he had the foundation of a literal god for future growth. Purple fire glistened in his eyes, shining bright against the cloudy skies. Then he landed, and the moment was gone. His mood darkened, and the tiny smile on his face disappeared.

He snapped his fingers, sending a boom across the palace environs. Although it stretched up for almost a mile along the precipices that surrounded the mountain, he knew that the noise would reach his allies.

He started up the path, passing by a few workers who were laboring over the rebuilding efforts. Arkanon, and the others, but especially him, had wreaked havoc on the fortifications of the city, and some parts were entirely destroyed. Statues lay in dozens of pieces on the ground, even a week after the rebuilding had started. In many ways, people were still afraid that this was all one big joke and their expense, the sick humor of a god using their lives as the punchline. However, many were finally hopeful.

Hell in the realm of Mire was one of constant, wearing fatigue, rather than the sharp onslaught of torture and pain that many considered Hell to be. Instead, the complete lack of hope, the knowledge that no matter what you did, an eternal, invincible guardian was always waiting to stop you from reaching to the heavens. In the world of the System, strength was the end goal, the ultimate currency of reality. Those who could not achieve their true potential were the poorest of beggars imaginable.

It would take years for Mire to fully recover and become a place, which, while not Heaven, was far more than Hell. Perhaps by then, Jonathan would have added many more circles to his ever expanding domain, freeing his people to grow as was their right.

Hell did not need to be such. Rather, he could create a new Telvaria. The image of a massive disc floating in the void, containing enough space for billions, or maybe even trillions of people to live to their heart's content blossomed in his mind. He and his closest allies used it as a staging ground for their final war of vengeance against the gods, ending their threat once and for all-

“Jonathan?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. “Is it time to ascend?”

Jonathan smiled. “Yes, Edgar. Yes, it is.”