This time, Helmer did not answer immediately. Over the years, Hadjar had learned that when the typically fast-talking demon fell silent, it meant he was deep in thought. Sometimes, it was because he was working on a particularly cutting ‘joke,’ and other times it was because even Hadjar had picked up a few choice tidbits of knowledge along the way — the kind of knowledge that could give even an Ancient pause.

“That’s a good question,” the demon finally replied after a time. “In a way, it’s almost philosophical. I once wondered if there was any connection between the slightly bitter blood of southern virgins and the slightly milky blood of their northern counterparts. You know, like when different animals eat-”

“Helmer,” Hadjar interjected.

“Huh? Oh... yeah,” the lump of fear nodded and scratched what could be called his head, though given his overall spherical shape, that was a moot point. “Anyway, Hadji, my friend, you’re the big cheese in this village right now. There’s no doubt about it. I can’t even measure your power level because your situation is completely unique.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Hadjar remarked.

“And you are right,” the demon nodded. “The Seventh Heaven, the World of the Gods, and the gods themselves... Well, let’s just say you’re not in the most advantageous position right now. Look at you — no armor, no artifacts. Your sword, once either a Soul Weapon or a Predatory Weapon, has... Well, aside from Ash and the Jasper Emperor, I doubt anyone could explain why your sword, which was forged from your Call and a shard of the Black General’s Black Blade, didn’t disappear when you first became mortal.”

Hadjar looked at the hilt of his Blue Blade. Indeed, it truly was part of his Call, the same Call that had disappeared after his rebirth with a heart of steel. And yet, here it still was, on his belt, as loyal as ever.

“And where else but in the Land of the Immortals,” the General mused, “could we find the finest of artifacts?”

“Uh, yes,” Helmer replied, sounding a little less certain.

Hadjar narrowed his eyes at him. “That doesn’t sound very confident.”

The demon turned away slightly and muttered something almost inaudible before adding more clearly, “Anyway, you and I should probably pay a visit to the local treasury.”

“I seem to recall that the last time you and I visited the ‘local treasury,’ things didn’t end well.”

“Don’t confuse the two,” Helmer sighed. “Back when we went to Titania, you were considerably weaker, and I wasn’t at my best.”

Hadjar gave the little lump of fear an appraising glance. “And now we somehow have a different hand?” He asked.

“This time, you’re powerful, and generally quite handsome, to boot.”

“What about you?” Hadjar probed.

“I’ve always been like this. But in this particular situation, Hadji, my friend, you insult me if you think I wouldn’t help a comrade. Pfft. Everything will work out. Whatever happens, you can count on my unwavering moral support — 24/7, no holidays or weekends, though.”

The little ball extended his right hand, thumb raised in a familiar Earth gesture.

Essentially, Hadjar had no one to rely on but himself, since Helmer wasn’t even physically present.

Rubbing his temples wearily, Hadjar looked back at the valley, then at the towering walls. He looked again at the valley, then at the high walls, and upon closer inspection, he saw a second, even higher wall beyond the first, almost at the edge of the very horizon.

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“Any details about this plan you care to share?” The General asked, keeping his gaze on the walls.

Surely they didn’t just stand there for no reason...

“Well,” Helmer began slowly, “it’s not overly complicated. We sneak into the heart of the Land of the Immortals, preferably unnoticed and with as little commotion as possible. Once we’re there, we’ll find the belongings of an old friend of mine-”

“Do you even have friends?” Hadjar couldn’t help but ask.

“Hadji, you’re breaking my non-existent heart! But wait, I don’t have one... So why does it hurt so much? Oh, I see. I’ve just stumbled upon a meaningless, worthless, ignorant opinion. You didn’t happen to drop it, did you?”

“You talk too much,” Hadjar quipped.

The thumb turned into a middle finger and the demon continued.

“So, here it is. As you may have guessed... or maybe you haven’t… Well, either way. So, Hadji, while the Land of the Immortals may look like a fairytale realm, in many ways, it’s not that different from the mortal world. The main difference is that there are no virgins here.”

Hadjar raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“I thought Immortals could have offspring.”

“They can,” the blob confirmed. “But everything here is energy. And energy doesn’t require all your biological complications. But that’s not what I meant. There are also power centers here, with various unpleasant personalities helming them, power struggles, and even their own currency.”

“Let me guess,” Hadjar said dryly, recalling some of his adventures. “The essence of the World River?”

Helmer’s eyes bulged slightly, causing the lump of fear to grow a bit larger.

“Indeed, I had suspected that in our partnership, most of the intellectual work would fall to me, the charming and universally adored Hel-”

“We’ve been here for almost half an hour,” Hadjar reminded him.

“Ahem,” the demon cleared his throat. “My dear Hadjar, you naive prince. Once again, everything around you is energy. So why would you need to exchange it?”

Hadjar scanned his surroundings once more and then relaxed a bit. It was his first time here, so he hadn’t understood it right away, but he didn’t show his initial confusion.

“No, Hadjar,” Helmer continued. “Eternity shards are used as currency here.”

“Eternity?”

“Well, it’s a rather ephemeral concept...”

“I know what Eternity is.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because,” Hadjar exclaimed in exasperation, “how on earth can anything be taken from it? Even just shards?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention that? I was going to... This is a bit awkward... Maybe it’s because you interrupted me? I don’t really understand how that happened.”

Hadjar muttered a series of curses, then took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Well,” the blob continued smugly. “Things work a little differently here, Hadjar. And the Shards of Eternity... So as not to confuse your mortal mind, let’s pretend they’re just precious metals, shall we? It’ll be quicker and easier for both of us.”

Hadjar just shrugged. He didn’t really care what the local currency was called or what it was made of.

“Alright, let’s go back to the beginning,” the demon exhaled. “Here, everyone pays tribute, from the bottom up. And so, the finest specimens of all go to the King in the end.”

“To Ash... the Master of Almost All Words... A mage equal in power to the mightiest entities of this world.”

“And, if everything went according to plan, he’s now somewhat... weakened,” the demon murmured in the same hushed tone. “But let’s take things one step at a time. Before you even have to consider Ash, you have to at least cross the first region, okay? And you have to get inside it first.”

“And that region is...” Instead of speaking, Hadjar pointed with his thumb behind himself.

“Yes,” the lump nodded again. “The realm of the Immortals is divided into three regions: the outer fields, where we are now, home to its more... shall we say... humble inhabitants. Then there’s the first wall — those with powers ranging from the ninth rank of Divine Warrior up to the seventh can pass through it. That’s where their territories are, the Third Region territories. Then there’s another wall, and...”

“Another division into three ranks,” Hadjar concluded. “From the sixth to the fourth. And then the last wall, with ranks three through one. And then, of course, King Ash in the middle of the realm, probably behind another wall.”

“Hadji, my dear, we’ve already established that thinking is not your strong suit. So why bother trying?”

Hadjar simply waved him off and turned his gaze back to the walls. It was still worth exploring, but he had a feeling that without the emblem Gambatta had given him, it wouldn’t be very successful.

Something pricked Hadjar’s palm. He examined it and saw the faintest, thinnest of scars — a reminder of one of his first ever blood oaths.

An oath he had made long ago to the Shadow of an Immortal swordsman that had been left behind in the Mountains of Balium to wait patiently for an heir.

So, he would first visit the House of Blade Fury, then…