Chapter 15 – Demigods

Earth and Sky fought with a fierce intensity, each strike of their swords an explosion of pure energy against the unstoppable fury of Death. Yet, the weight of the battle began to take its toll. The divine swords, fueled by the very strength of their wielders, began to lose the intense glow that had characterized them. Each slash was less brilliant than the last, each parry seemed to require more effort.

"Brother," shouted Earth, sweat running down his face as he deflected a deadly blow from one of the scythes. "We can't keep going like this. The swords... they're running out of the energy they've gathered."

Sky, focused on dodging a bone spike that suddenly rose from the ground, gritted his teeth. "I know," he replied, his voice tense. "But we must hold on. Every second gained could make the difference."

Death, cold and unperturbed, immediately noticed. His eyes, as dark as the abyss, scrutinized their movements with a predator’s calm. "You're losing strength," he said with a sharp grin. "Your swords, so bright and powerful, are becoming little more than scrap metal. How long do you think you can last against an Eden?"

Earth responded with a roar, raising a stone wall to block an attack from the scythes, but the wall was shattered with disarming ease. Sky tried to exploit the opening, charging a lightning bolt on the now-dull blade of his sword, and struck with all the strength he had left. The impact created a surge of energy, but Death absorbed the blow, withstanding it without showing any signs of weakening.

"We won't last," Earth murmured through clenched teeth, out of breath as he blocked an attack that forced him to his knees.

Yet, in the midst of despair, something happened. Behind them, the crowd of demigods had stopped. One by one, they stopped running, turned towards the battle, and stood watching. At first in silence, then with a growing murmur, they began to raise what they had: rocks, sticks, even their bare hands.

"We can't leave them alone," one of them shouted, his voice trembling but determined.

The determination spread among them like wildfire. Earth and Sky, though exhausted, noticed the movement.

"Look, brother," Earth said, breathless as he blocked a devastating blow with a final effort from his now-dull sword. "We're not alone."

"We never will be," Sky replied, his blade trembling under the pressure of Death’s scythes.

Not all the demigods responded to the call for courage. Many, crushed by terror and the awareness of their fragility, continued to flee, driven by the survival instinct that had guided them until that moment. Their legs moved frantically, while their hearts beat to the relentless rhythm of fear.

It wasn't an easy choice, but it was an authentic one, and in that instant, each of them showed who they truly were.

There was no blame for those who ran, nor immediate glory for those who stayed. Only the cruel truth of a world where courage came at a cost, and not all were ready to pay it.

Death, surrounded by his enemies, was showing the true extent of his power. Despite the increasing number of adversaries, his ability to adapt to the fight grew with every attack, with every move from the demigods. Each dodge, each blocked strike seemed to fuel his awareness and deadliness.

He didn’t need to suppress their strength to prevail. On the contrary, he was playing with them, showing a basic and cruel strength: the ability to beat his opponents without even using all of his power. He was humiliating them.

At that point, their fate was sealed by a twist of fate:

"Brother, calm down," a voice hissed. "You can let them go, just for this time, trust my words."

Death was the only one who heard those words, and there was no doubt about who had spoken them.

War: (in a low, hissing voice, seeping like poison into Death’s mind) "Brother... hold your rage. There’s no need to destroy them now. Let them go, just this time. Their time will come, and then it will be our turn to play with them. Trust me."

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Death: (clenching his hands around the scythes, his face a mask of disdain) "You dare ask me for patience? I, who could tear them to pieces with a single gesture? Look at them, those miserable beings... crawling towards a freedom they will never obtain. And you want me to spare them?" (a cold laugh, devoid of humanity) "What a surprise, War, you're still alive."

War: (with a sharp tone, but accompanied by a subtle, almost cruel smile) "Oh, I’m much more alive than you can imagine. My blood flows everywhere on this battlefield, and from that blood, I can be reborn whenever I want. I don’t need to hurry. Listen to me, brother. Let them go. For now."

Death: (his gaze becomes cold, his pupils narrow like slits) "For now, you say? Fine. I’ll let them go. But know this decision changes nothing. I will chase them, flush them out one by one, and massacre them. I want to hear them beg, I want to watch them sink into despair before I rip their lives away. They will pay for the humiliation they have inflicted on me."

War: (his voice growing more confident, almost triumphant) "There’s no need to chase them. Brother, I can be reborn at any moment, from every single drop of their blood. It’s my gift, my power. Sure, I’ll give up my divine abilities, but my physical strength is more than enough to turn them to dust. You don’t need to dirty your hands. Let them go, and I’ll be your vengeance."

eath: (narrowing his eyes, staring with contempt at the emptiness before him) Interesting. Your proposal has its charm. No one knows you’re still alive, and that gives us an advantage. Light and Shadow won’t be prepared. (a pause, then a cruel grin forms on his face) However, War, there’s one detail I cannot ignore. The idea that you are the only one tormenting those beings disgusts me. I want to be the one to break their lives, to tear them from their illusion of hope.

War: (chuckling, with a tone as sharp as a blade) And how do you plan to do that, my dear brother?

Death: (a flash of pure malice crosses his gaze) I will bind them. I’ll call upon our brother Idea. I want a pact, a bond: in exchange for my eternal presence on this planet, I will claim their souls. Every human who reaches the end of their miserable existence will return to me. Their souls will be mine, forever.

I was then forced to accept that bond, despite no longer having the ability to grant them, because my power had waned. I could still accept proposals. In fact, to be more precise, if a sacrifice is offered in exchange for what is asked, as long as it is in balance, I am compelled to accept it.

War: (with a malicious smile) So be it, brother. I will send them back one by one, down to the last. It’s almost amusing watching them run, knowing that wherever they go, only the sadness they carry inside will await them. It’s exactly what those miserable beings deserve. They’ve received gifts as vast as the universe, and yet I already see them crushed by the weight of their ignorance.

Death: (clenching his scythes, his face rigid and filled with contempt) Now they are bound to me. Their souls will return to me, inevitably. They cannot escape their fate. Yet, I cannot quell my rage. I let them go, I fought them without suppressing their forces... and I saw how fragile I am without my power. I am weak.

War: (laughing arrogantly) Weak? You’re crazy, Death. Your ability is your greatest weapon, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. That little fool was proud of his "forgiveness." You have something far more lethal. Why feel inferior?

Death: (staring at him with cold eyes, his words full of determination) Because it’s the truth. Without my ability, I’m not unbeatable. And I can’t stand knowing there’s a limit to my strength. But that won’t last long. I won’t stay still. While I wait for the right moment, I will hone my skills, become a master of combat. And not only that: I will build an army, a force that will make me invincible.

War: (in a decisive tone) Good. Let them start believing they have a chance. It will be even sweeter to watch them collapse under the weight of their own illusion.

Death: (a brief silence, followed by a sinister grin) Let them run, then. Wherever they go, I will catch them. When they are ready to surrender their souls, it will be too late to beg for mercy.

And so, with a tacit agreement between the two brothers, a dark fate for the newly born world was shaped—a promise of revenge. The events of Proxima Mortis find their conclusion in this tragic epilogue. From that moment, the singularity returned to its original name, Cupiditas Mortis, and became an abandoned place, a desert of pain and memory. All those who had participated fled, carrying with them the scars of battle, both in body and soul. Only one remained: Death, the eternal guardian, bound to that place by his own power. His presence turned the place into a perpetual warning, a symbol of devastation and inevitable fate.

The heroic actions of God and Martyr, as noble as they were, were not enough to destroy either of the two Edens. Death and War still live, in all their terrible power. However, a victory, albeit subtle, was achieved: their army was annihilated, their legion of mud men turned into instruments of destruction no longer exists. On the contrary, those very beings, transformed into demigods, turned their backs on their former masters. They are now on the side of good, bearers of the will to fight against oppression.

One cannot say that hope has been ignited, but at least the impending fate of the end has been postponed. The end has been delayed, not averted. Even though they lost their army, Death and War are still alive, powerful, and dangerous, and their shadow will continue to loom over the world.

And the demigods? Where did they flee after the battle? What happened to them? Who were they really, beyond what the battlefield had made them? Were they truly able to keep their promise to fight for good, or did their destiny lead them elsewhere?