'Are you sure?' I asked, looking at my phone rather than Rivka, and felt the air in the sparring room shift as she nodded. Usually, there were a couple ghosts smacking each other around or watching others do it. I wondered if she'd asked for it to be cleared, or if she'd even needed to.

'Gaol John gave you the thumbs up.' And his word that he'd always be watching me. That definitely wouldn't give me performance anxiety worse than my already sky-high usual. "And you should take a break from looking through the Fae's pasts, anyway. Undead might be incapable of getting bored, but you said you didn't feel like you were improving."

'Sorry,' I sighed at the ghoul's tight-lipped expression. I could tell she wanted me to improve my skill with Mimir's perception, as did Aya Reem, but I guess my heart just wasn't in it (because it was in my chest, the pesky bitch. It always got back there, no matter how much I shapeshifted, got hurt and healed). That only made sense, though: don't be fooled by my strigoi tricks, disappointing women is my real power. Mia just hadn't gotten the memo so far.

Rivka blew a raspberry. 'I don't need excuses, David. We-everyone in this mess; we're in this together-know this is for both your good and that of the organisation. Shit, the world.' The ghoul gave me a smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. I was sure it had encouraged many surfers to return to the shore and stay there forever. 'And you care too much about that not to do your best. So, it's not for lack of trying. You'll get better.'

'I think I'm being gimped by my mindset...please don't agree so fast,' I deadpanned at her rapid nodding. 'I mean that I've mostly been treating it as an upgrade to my sight, when it's actually much more,' I rubbed my eyes, and my fingers tingled faintly at the divine power contained within. Usually, my sense of touch was so stunted that I felt like I was wearing iron gauntlets. But I'd learned to work my way around that, out of necessity.

Now you know why undead were so damn morose when they weren't edgy. Not being able to feel anything except pain(insert whiny teen music), not being able to taste anything...and that was just for those with bodies, like me. Most ghosts had it far worse, which meant the few who didn't start out crazy quickly got there, out of sensory deprivation if the baggage that kept them on Earth wasn't enough.

'There were times when other people activated my sight. Reem did it once, as a perception exercise.' And, probably, to show me how easily she could crush the rest of the Corpse Corps together, if needed. At least, the members I knew of. Another memory, of Vyrt flashed through my mind, bringing a frown to my face. The Nephilim had been devastated to hear of the Faerie expedition fiasco, according to the External Affairs agents that dealt with New Camelot. Still...something didn't feel right. 'And not only did my reflexes improve, so did my hearing. I mean, my arcane sense too, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to hear stuff in space...not a long story. I'll tell you another time,' I promised Rivka, seeing her questioning expression. 'I think it enhances all my senses, or would, if I knew how to fully use it. But it's not like I got the godsight for morons training manual.' I had refused Odin's invitation to Asgard, the short visit to apologise to his family notwithstanding.

'Maybe you should dig up those marriage offers. Was there a knowledge goddess among them?'

I winced. 'I...don't remember. Most of them were from death goddesses, or gods who thought I also swing that way.' Well, that wasn't fully true. Such a "marriage" wouldn't demand attraction, let alone sex, just living together, and serving a pantheon's interests. But they'd all been off-putting. 'I stopped at the Izanami one.' That had probably been more of a threat than an offer. The fact it had been unsigned hadn't encouraged me.

Rivka worried at her lower lip with her fangs, ripping out a small chunk she then swallowed faster than I could see. 'Maybe go to Reem and ask her to arrange a meeting with Thoth? He could tutor you...'

Thoth was...not dickish at all, by divine standards, from what I knew. I'd never met him. And he did like teaching others, even though I doubted he'd be fully open with me, what with the rivalry between Egypt's gods and all servants of Abraham's God, but that would be harmless compared to what other deities would put me through if they could.

'Maybe I will. And maybe it will work. But now...' I opened the ARChive, and entered the Crypt forum, then the general discussion thread. Skimming through it, I saw dozens of pages had been added very quickly since the beginning of the Headhunt, and hundreds more since its end and the following events. 'Are they...is it safe to talk like this?' I asked Rivka, nervous at the prospect of more people getting into trouble because of the bad luck that seemed to hound me.

'It's as safe as we're willing to believe anything is. Switches to aetheric waves once you get out of satellite range, so you could theoretically call anyone anywhere in the multiverse, provided you have the right number. Don't. At least, not without checking with me and Reem first.'

I nodded, then, hesitantly, began to type. My rank, name, species and country appeared over my post.

[Agent David Silva, strigoi, posting from Omu base, Romania]

Hello, everyone. Just got this and wanted to try it out. Sorry for whatever grief I've caused you, intentionally or not.

Immediately, the few hundred agents sleepily checking out the thread multiplied, becoming thousands, then tens of thousands, until a fraction of the Crypt division was online to see me.

[Senior agent Liu Zhi, jiang-shi, posting from the Great Wall, China]

Greetings, Silva. We have been expecting you. Please do not overly trouble yourself over your misdeeds, real or imagined. We'll do it for you.

P.S: Do not fall apart again. We cannot rebuild you. We don't have the technology.

[Agent Byron Samedi, lich, posting from Tortuga base, Haiti]

Guess you can say you're in now, huh? Speaking about that, I've heard about your problems with your honey. You know, I have these real pretty corpses just standing around. I can loan them when I'm not using them, provided it happens at the same time your zmeu is putting horns on ya. Keeping her around the house when she's bored of you gotta calm you down, eh?

'Is this guy for real? Byron Samedi?' I muttered.

'He's half-British,' Rivka explained.

'And fully tasteless...Jesus,' I said to myself, about to reply, but other agents were faster. Damn, really kept you guys waiting, didn't I?

[Agent Harshed, vetala, posting from Bengaluru base, India]

Who gives a damn about the strigoi's issues? Keep blowing yourself, 'Samedi'. Silva, stop being so sentimental. It's disgraceful. You should rather be more concerned with the religious war that's bound to erupt around you.

[Senior agent Frida, draugr, posting from Akershus base, Norway]

I will take over that, if you don't mind.

Hmph, was all Harshed replied. Not really a bringer of joy, are you? Bet your parents are either precogs who love irony, or disappointed.

David, Frida continued, We do not blame you for what Chernobog made you do. There are some discussions about whether you're cursed or not, but none of my agents feel anything for you but pity. Wow. My self-esteem was going to fly off and escape if she kept at it. That being said...Thor's death has not been made public knowledge yet. We think Odin is blunting all attempts at scrying, which continued, despite the thunder god still answering prayers. We think he has moved to a new state of existence, without everything ending in Ragnarok. But people will be mad once they find out, which will happen. Some might come after you, either because they believe you guilty, or see you as tainted by Chernobog.

[Senior agent Diego Cortez, vampire, posting from Malaga base, Spain]

And let us not forget the other dead god you got mixed up with...oh, hello David! I didn't see you were still online, I'm typing as I remember. Anyhow...you do realise everyone who either worshipped or hated Mimir will want to harvest or strike at him through you, yes?

I was just talking about not saying things like this..., Zhi wrote, but Diego went on.

David! You should not worry about things you can't control and which, in fact, control you. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience. Speaking of that, my wife says hi to you two. She thinks you're so cute!

Edit: You and Mia, to clarify. Not you and Rivka. She thinks she's cute too, just not together with you. Not that you ruin the image, you just don't fit.

Edit 2: Hi Rivka! Clio thinks we should all eat out again when we have time, he added before I could ask how the hell he knew Rivka was next to me.

'Don't question things like that,' the ghoul in question smiled, taking out her own phone and beginning to type. 'Diego is...he's like the ocean. Might appear big and empty, but he has hidden depths.'

Well-hidden...

Thanks for the encouraging words, everyone, I finally typed when I got a word in edgewise. Does anyone know if Head Reem is online right now? There is something I need to talk to her about.

[Agent Skye, sluagh, posting from Glencoe base, Scotland]

Would it happen to be related to what we were discussing :)?

I was deeply unsettled by the fact a spirit who specialised in dropping people to death used symbol talk, or whatever it was called. I think it would be better to talk to her in private. It's just that I don't know if she's busy right now, or I'd fly to Giza.

The Heads are always busy, Silva. They keep the body moving, Skye replied. Also, since when do you get to go to headquarters on a whim? There something you hiding from us?

Edit: Also also, there are no such things as private messages in the ARChive. Intimacy here is like in the army: imaginary. Come to think of it, so is dignity...in both cases.

And, riding the wave of that cheerful note, the last person I wanted to hear from chimed in.

[Senior agent Loric Szabo, strigoi, posting from Szechenyi Hill base, Hungary]

Brother! Once you are done with your latest existential crisis, be sure to check out the relaxation thread! I'm posting my art as I make it!

***

'Aww...' Diego whined, leaning back in his chair. 'Loric scared him off.'

Sighing, the vampire looked around the room with too many corners and not enough curves. The architecture of Malaga base was enough to rob baseline humans of their senses and sanity alike-a holdover from its previous occupants and decorators. And that was without taking into account the spots where pentagrams had been ripped out of spacetime, which were far, far more dangerous to perceive. Diego had seen several gophers unmade in the present, past and every possible future just by brushing against one.

They were all, of course, harmless to him, or he wouldn't have been sitting on one. His guests were similarly resilient. Talking about Crypt business with Goetia agents would have went against protocol, but it wasn't like they'd been posting anything classified in the thread. They'd just been stabbing the piss, as the youths said. Nothing that wasn't already known through ARC.

"Oh, well." Miguel shrugged, his usual suit and shirt unbuttoned, tie hanging loose around his collar. 'At least he'll be too busy being disgusted at Loric to be disgusted at himself...? Damn, I'm bad at encouragement.'

'I think those two are developing a dynamic,' Sklaresia said, kicking her legs as she sat in her husband's lap, leaning an elbow on the table between them and the vampire. 'It could be worse. They could have killed each other by now. Several times.'

'Tch,' Diego pouted. 'He didn't even reply to me! I know for a fact he's not busy looking Loric's art, I checked that thread. So what-'

'Diego,' the demon said softly, closing her horizontal eyes as the central, vertical one opened. Usually blazing with black fire, it was now like a pool of ink, though nothing was reflected in it. 'He's grieving.'

'I know,' the vampire said, leaning forward to slump on the table. 'But he must pick himself up. I know he will.'

'He's not just grieving for his own losses, Diego,' Miguel said, running a hand through his wife's hair. 'He feels he should be the only one suffering, not the world at large. Emil told me on the way to Salem headquarters, after he was done interrogating David. He...he might do something stupid, either to redeem himself or end his pain. I...I wish I could help him...' the mage said, remembering Mia's haunted look as they departed R'lyeh's former location. David had been even more hurt than she had been upon receiving the news. He was a good man.

But good people...

***

Seville, Spain, 2031

'It's not working,' Miguel sighed, leaning his head back in his wife's back, rubbing his forehead in frustration with one hand. 'David's fortunes can't change, obviously-he's a strigoi, and my magic isn't holy. But everything even slightly related to him is fixed in place. I can't make things better, dammit.'

'It means they can't get worse either, love. Right?'

'They aren't, at the moment,' he said. 'The flow of fate is as stable as it ever is,' he snorted. 'I wanted to make sure there were few fights between him and his girlfriend in the future, you know? They deserve it.'

'They are certainly endearing,' Sklaresia agreed with a small smile. 'Especially the zmeu. For all her feistiness, she was adorably shy when she kept sneaking glances at us back then.'

'Probably thought we couldn't tell.' Miguel said, unwilling to admit he'd completely missed it. Any sensation of flattery was buried under irritation at anyone else being attracted to his demon. It was stupid and hypocritical, he knew, but human. As long as they could afford to worry over such small things...

'Mhm. Maybe we should invite her over when they're separate. Spice things up.'

'Klare!'

'I'm teasing.' She pulled his head back into her lap, while leaning against the headboard.

They sat in silence that, for the first time in years, was far from comfortable, for minutes. It was Miguel who broke it.

This was as good a moment as any. And...he still had his doubts. And fears.

'Sklaresia?'

'Oh, you're full naming me. What do you imagine you've done wrong this time?' She put two hands on her hips in exaggerated irritation, making him smile.

'Talking about relationships...'

'You're not really taking the threesome joke seriously, are you?'

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

'Of course not, sweetheart. I know I'm only yours.' Perfect setup, if unintentional. 'Klare...Am I your slave?'

Silence, again. One of her hands descended to caress his cheek. 'You would have made me yours, if you'd won our contest.'

She had long since forgiven him for that, if she'd ever been mad to start with, but...it still made him feel like the worthless bastard Klare didn't seem to see he was, for some reason.

'Forgive me' he asked her for the thousandth time. 'Not that I deserve to ask this, but I  am sorry. I was looking for power, and a being most people saw as evil wouldn't have been missed.' The mage chuckled drily. 'Come to think of it, I was pretty speciesist back then, too.'

'That was only half the reason. You saw a hurt woman, and wanted never to, again. Even if you thought I could only be safe under your control.'

Miguel nodded, grimacing. 'I know I have free will-as much as anyone does-but...if you gave me an order, I wouldn't be able to disobey, would I?'

'No.' Her blunt response made his heart sink, but relieved him, at the same time. 'But I would sooner rip out my heart than make you do something you don't want to, my mage.' Klare closed her central eye, taking a deep breath that destroyed any chance he had of concentrating. 'I will change the contract, if you wish. Just tell me what new terms you want.'

This was probably a bad time to mention his tinkering with it. Not that he wanted to get rid of Klare-the thought hurt more than being controlled-,it was just in his nature to push him luck. And, though it had always failed, it had helped improve his probability magic.

'Communication is always important in relationships. We'll have to make sure we both agree first, though.' The demon smiled down at him. 'Your experiments are funny, Miguel, but remember we're married. Talk to me before trying something that could affect both of us, alright? The worst I could do is say no.'

And there she went, forgiving him again. He-

'Will you two stop being so wholesome? It's disgusting,' one of the shadows on the wall murmured, moving between two dart boards as it elongated.

'Intimacy,' Miguel griped. 'Ever heard of it?' He really didn't want Emil's partner, hostage,  whatever, seeing them naked.

'Embodiment of darkness, ever heard of me? I,' Nacht pointed a knifelike finger at Miguel as the mage pulled the covers over himself. 'Am  always inside you. All the places in your body light does not reach are me, as is every dark thought you have ever had. I know you better than the demon, fool. And you.' It pointed at Sklaresia. 'When will you stop doing this and start acting like a real demon?'

'Don't hold your breath.' Klare smirked. 'Why are you manifesting like this?'

'Indulging Hex, who's humouring Shiftskin. He was so worried as we left Australia, he asked me to check on everyone I could.'

Hex, worried? About people?

'Don't be daft,' Nacht said, reading his thoughts. 'He knows that the worse ARC does, the fewer chances to experience new things he'll have. He has too many enemies to switch organisations or live entirely as a civilian. Anyway...you two are clean. Disturbingly so, considering what you are, which Hex is relieved to hear. Now, if you'll excuse me...he and my primary manifestation have sone business to attend to.'

Miguel rubbed his face, groaning, as the shadow became normal once more. He hadn't been cockblocked like this since his days of selling luck. Ugh...no wonder Hex rarely tried to help like this, he was more awkward than a colt on roller-skates.

'Sorry, darling,' he told Sklaresia. 'I should've told it to piss off.'

'It wouldn't have worked.' She shook her head, smiling thinly. 'I think Emil cares more than he shows, or knows. But you couldn't have done anything.'

'Maybe,' he replied grudgingly. 'Um...before Nacht-'

'Do you want a new contract?' Sklaresia asked. 'I can remove the obedience clause, if it worries you.'

'Maybe replace it with sharing emotions-and thoughts, when close enough?' he suggested. 'It would be romantic."

'Yes...' She smiled, tossing the covers aside. 'I would love that. But first...'

First, they had to seal the deal.

Funny. It almost always ended like this, with the overconfident mage kneeling before the demon, but Miguel found he did not begrudge his wife her victory at all. For she was a graceful winner, and merciful.

***

Son of the Sun, deep space, 2031

'Complaining will not change reality,' Hex said through their bond as he walked the gigantic spaceship's halls, unseen by mundane, psychic, mage and sensor alike. His bad luck aura, which seemed to have improved since his death at Chernobog's hands and subsequent recreation by Nacht, made octillions of minds and artificial intelligences cloud over and become sluggish whenever they came close to perceiving him.

'You have no idea how appalling your colleagues are, Emil.' Nacht had lately been using his first name more often than it had in over seven decades. Come to think of it...his existence might have been necessary for it to remain coherent, but his mind wasn't. So, why had it recreated him with the ability to think at all, let alone the same mindset-which, he knew, it found stifling and boring?

'That is for me to know, and for you to agonise over~'

'You are not interesting enough to think about in my spare time.'

'So harsh! Come now, Emil...do you really think I'd take the easy route and remake you as a puppet? Where would the fun in breaking that stony mind of yours be, then?'

Hex had no reply. Instead, he continued walking towards his destination. The door, a hundred thousand kilometres wide, twenty thousand thick and denser than neutronium, was shaped as a stylised sun, with rays that danced and changed colour, directed by unseen machines.

He did not care for the artifice, for all that, he supposed, most people would have found it beautiful, or at least impressive. Instead, he raised his left hand-Hex was right-handed, but magic always flowed better on the sinister path-and let loose a burst of mana, blasting the door to smithereens. The Son of the Sun shook for dozens of light years as pieces of the door, fast and light and bigger than his body, flew around him, having the misfortune of smashing into each other, or the worshippers of Solarex who arrived to see what the commotion was about.

None of them could perceive Hex and Nacht, nor could the Solarian who arrived as fast as the flash of light that announced her presence. A shining white figure, with sun rays rising from her head like a crown, the Solarian cast her senses through the immense hallway, but perceived nothing except for the minds and souls of her father's worshippers, and the heat their bodies radiated.

The Solarian grunted in annoyance when a hundred-trillion ton chunk of the door smashed into her at lightspeed, shattering over her shining body. She strode forward, brushing against Hex without knowing.

'That is quite enough,' a smooth, deep voice filled the corridor. 'Come here, Nacht. Bring your pet too.'

Hex entered one of Solarex's many throne rooms, taking in the baffled expressions of King Sun's courtiers. Their god was talking to himself, as far as they could see.

'Zivhaya...' Solarex breathed, looking in disappointment at his daughter. 'So bright, yet so dull. No, no, no. This will not do.'

There were eighty billion kilometres between King Sun and his daughter. Solarex rose from his golden throne, ripped her in twitching halves, and returned to his seat before she had realised he was moving. Hex tracked his movement dispassionately, feeling the galaxy-ending power that always burned inside Solarex's primary manifestation, even when he wasn't drawing on the aether, or the stars of other realities.

'Children are so boring, sometimes,' Solarex mused, propping his chin in one hand. He had done away with the beard for today, and a crownlike construct of light surrounded his head, but the body that was his primary manifestation looked the same as always: two metres eighty, statuesque, perfectly-contoured muscles under golden, blindingly-bright skin. 'I do not recommend having them.'

'Then maybe you will stop using everyone you can get your hands on as breeding sows,' Hex suggested. He did not need the advice. He already lacked interest in breeding. Solarex, like most hypocrites, was opinionated and completely uninterested in following his own advice, though, so he laughed.

'Do not be absurd! What else could I do, when I am not practicing my art or destroying my foes? Food and drink and love...you humans have the right ideas, though you worship the wrong gods.'

'I worship nothing,' Hex said. The jab had annoyed him more than it should have. Generalising had never sat well with him, especially since such opinions were almost always based on incomplete information, when it wasn't incorrect. 'And the gods others worship are 'wrong' because they are not you, I assume?'

'Of course!' Solarex spread his arms, grinning like a teacher pleased with a slow student's surprisingly good answer. 'Who else pulled themselves up to godhood by their bootstraps? Why, before I made my name, I was simply another manifested Idea, like your dark master.' King Sun tilted his head to one side, grin thinning, becoming sly. 'I know why you are here.'

Hex doubted that. Solarex could not read his mind, and Nacht had hid their intentions from its counterpart's senses during the journey.

'Then, there is no need for me to speak,' Hex said smoothly. They were here to dissuade Solarex from coming to Earth-the Watcher Over Horror's presumption in calling on alien beings to defend Earth without the consent of its inhabitants had been dangerous, though the Tartarus Engine seemed to have expressed their collective displeasure. The Watcher had not apologised, of course, for such things were as alien to them as emotions were to Hex. Then, it had drawn Atlantis' ruins into a pocket reality it had created just for that purpose, rather than let them remain underwater and fight alongside Earth's defenders.

Why? The Watcher was not a coward, and always chose the path of least effort. It certainly could not have been the danger. The invaders that had attacked Earth would have been a joke to the Watcher at their baseline. Had there been something that could have broken the seal over the Horror?

Thoughts for another day.

'Oh, I don't know. Your voice is like your body: I want to have both~' Solarex winked, ignoring Nacht's growl just as he ignored the bladed tendril it struck at him with. The appendage bounced off his golden skin, a fraction of the power bisecting the Son of the Sun and sending the halves flying. Reality was unmade by the shockwave, revealing the aether's colourless, raw mana, and Solarex sighed. Spinning a finger in a counter-clockwise motion, he sealed the tear in reality, remaking his son's body and resurrecting the septillions that had died for Nacht's aggravation.

'Was that really necessary?' he asked the dark being mildly. 'Yes, I know. But why should I reveal the secrets of the gods for nothing in return?'

Hex's face had been horrible at expressing anything, including surprise, long before he had bonded with Nacht, stitching his mouth and eyes shut. He was not always grateful for that, but...yes. Playing along with Solarex, then presenting their actual intentions, could prove interesting. 'Surely you do not think anything you reveal could be used to threaten you?'

'I am not a fool.' Solarex slouched in his throne, arms crossed behind his head. 'Haven't you wondered why the Black God can permanently harm those weak to holy power? He is worshipped, yes, but as a bringer of misfortune and destruction. So is the Devil. So is Apophis,' he raised a finger. 'But you do not see them doing what he can, do you?'

That... 'We are looking into it. But we need peace, and time, to research. Your presence on our world would be disruptive.'

'Hmph...' Solarex pouted, then his smile returned, eyes gleaming. 'I already gave you a hint, and now you ask for more? Tsk, tsk. Not to mention the way you blundered your way through my son...I think it is my turn now.'

Before Hex could reply, he felt his stitches fall away, Nacht slipping into the joints, turning his eyes and mouth into jagged slices of darkness.

'If you insist~'

King Sun smirked. Humbling the embodiment of darkness and its slave, for both payment and pleasure? Yes...he could get used to this.

***

Ischyros clapped a merry rhythm on its belly as it flew, crossing trillions of light years every second. It was a leisurely pace for it, but the universe beyond humanity's knowledge was something that had to be taken slow to be appreciated...even if it was mostly empty.

The minotaur-a friend who could recover from anything! Who could choose how powerful he was, like Ischyros!-had convinced it that waiting on Earth to beat off invaders would have been a waste of its talents, and boring besides. He had even pointed out new friends to fight with, even if playing with Ischyros had left them incapable of moving. Or anything else.

Alas, most beings had that problem. Ischyros was happy to bring some colour into their sad lives.

Still, things seemed to have quieted down, as they always, inevitably, did. Existence was more like a cycle than anything, or perhaps a seesaw. It had heard about that human invention, and had been eager to try one, before the minotaur had talked it into going out into the multiverse.

Ah, well, it'd always get another chance.

But now, Ischyros had nothing to do except find another fight. That had always been its greatest desire, for as long as it could remember. Multiverses might come and go, existence might change, but Ischyros' metaphorical heart always sang for battle.

There were smaller pleasures, of course. Like seesaws! Oh, Ischyros dearly hoped it would get to try one soon. They went up-down, up-down, up-down...

Maybe it should change course and go to Earth?

As it considered its options, something thrice its size, but a minuscule fraction of its speed-only four hundred eighty times lightspeed-smashed into it. The rocky planet it had been flying over split for thousands of kilometres as Ischyros smashed through it.

Ah, a new friend! One with a love for surprise tackles! Even if they were slow...

Giggling, Ischyros lowered its speed to match the stranger's, and took in their appearance.

The Honoured Kratocrats-Vyzhaldi, after their homeworld, though they rarely went by that-were bipedal, beetle-like humanoids, standing five metres forty tall and almost as wide. The colour of their exoskeletons, save for the yellow-white ones that hatched from eggs, depended on the manner their progenitor was wounded.

As such, most were red, like the thick, sap-like substance that oozed from Vyzhaldi wounds, with crimson eyes set in a pinkish face. Orange for energy weapons, green for acids, purple for toxins...

This one was red, and alone. A rare thing, for a Kratocrat: Vyzhaldi were rarely hurt only once in a battle, and the ones that grew from the severed chunks almost always stuck together. The bonds between Woundkin were as strong as the one between Broodkin, if not stronger.

'Hello, friend!' Ischyros waved, the Kratocrat clicking his mandibles in annoyance. 'Do you want to fi-'

'No!'

Well, that was even stranger! And rude. Had the Vyzhaldi changed so much in a few paltry billion years? 'I am sorry. Then why did you stop Ischyros?'

The Vyzhaldi beat his wings in agitation at the mention of its name. Perhaps he had an ugly one and was too shy to share it?

'You flew into me, you moron! You were moving too fast for me to dodge!'

And with that, the Kratocrat flew away, into deep space.

Oh, void...maybe it really should go to Earth. Everything pointed to the wider universe being boring today.

Returning to its speed before the meeting with the strange Kratocrat, Ischyros spun in place, and began flying to-

More people bumping into it! Perhaps these friends weren't in such a hurry?

'Earthlings!' Ischyros said excitedly as it took them in. The welcoming committee? 'I was just thinking of visiting. Thank you, but I know the way!'it said, pointing at the top of its torso for emphasis.

Yua took off her thick, circular shades to give Wukong a golden-eyed, amused look. 'Told you it hasn't changed,' the kitsune said smugly, before floating closer to the six-armed being. In her human form, the Heaven-Spurning Elder barely came up to its chest, but showed no nervousness. After all, they were equally strong and fast at their baseline. And, for all that Ischyros' could enhance its power at a whim and with no discernible limit, Yua had some tricks of her own.

'Actually,' she turned to the alien. 'We are afraid Earth cannot receive visitors at the moment. But, to thank you for your help,' and keep the overgrown, overpowered child busy. Gods, she swore it was worse than her Ritsu. Why did cute dumbasses have to be so hard to manage? 'We came to spar with you!'

'Indeed,' Wukong said, grinning despite himself when Ischyros began hopping up and down, clapping its hands, gut jiggling. 'We heard you haven't pushed yourself in a while.'

'It's true!' Ischyros could have nodded, it was so excited. 'Ischyros went to Earth once. The young Watcher was new at the time, and Ischyros wanted to fight them as congratulations for their new position. It tried to enter Atlantis,' the alien went on, like it didn't sound utterly insane. 'But the Watcher wouldn't let it! You see, they thought Ischyros wanted to fight the Horror alongside them. No! Ischyros wanted to fight  both!'

Wha- 'Um,' Yua began with an unsure grin. 'The thing that ate the multiverse?'

'Yes! Something even the Remaker cannot destroy, and its guardian, whose power grows and changes in whatever manner is needed to fulfill their duty? Oh, Ischyros' blood would boil if it had any!'

The alien clenched its fists, battle-lust radiating from it. Across the universe, a quadrillion quadrillion beings felt the pressure, and all but a fraction fainted. On Earth, supernaturals felt their hackles rise as an unimaginable force battered at their senses.

Yua, who was close to the epicentre, wiped away golden blood with one hand, before rubbing her nose. Ah, shit...the dummy had made her stain her turtleneck. It was dark pink, too, ugh! The color clashed more than her foot would against its fat ass. To her right, she saw Wukong hold his head in hands that came away bloody, then blink rapidly.

Right. They'd been asked to kick its ass, anyway. Or, at least, get theirs kicked enough to be funny.

Gesturing like he was parting a curtain, Wukong split reality, revealing the aether. Then, he dashed towards the alien, which let itself be sent through the portal by the Buddha's palm strike.

Shrugging, Yua let her human form slip away, then bounded after them on all fours.

***

Mother Wound's Scorn flew past stars that burned like the anger that was the core of his existence in a way his heart had never been.

Encountering that impervious old monster had shaken his composure, and the creature's legendary status did not make it forgivable. He had to be indomitable. He  had to be. Because, if he wasn't...if his Kin were right...

Scorn growled, mandibles clenched. They weren't. If they had been, he'd had been killed shortly after coalescing from the life fluid that oozed eternally from the Mother's chest. As soon as they had determined he lacked his kind's ability to grow in power during battle...like the other failures.

Scorn hadn't been burned or turned into slurry for leisure eating or construction, though. The Honoured Kratocracy-honoured by the fact they were strong-had no place for weakness, whatever form it took, let alone deviance.

Instead, Mother Wound, silent as she had been for the last billion greater cycles, had signalled for him to be spared, and allowed to leave and live in shame. Could a stunted exile survive and thrive in the greater universe?

Scorn was not always hunted by his haughty Woundkin, or the Broodkin who wanted to kill him out of pity. But he could never be at ease, either.

He had to-had to-find something, anything, he could use to prove his worth.

Perhaps he would even learn whom he wanted to prove himself to.

***

As Adam walked the void, away from the vexing, faceless creature and the bizarre child that tagged along it, he knew he was not alone.

An atom, a single one, had preserved enough of that planet-spanning organism's sentience to recognise him as its destroyer.

Why had it followed him, clinging to his skin like a tick?

'Are you lonely, I wonder? Scared?' he asked, voice filling the void of space despite physics. Could it even hear him, let alone understand, if it did? 'Do you want revenge on me? To absorb me, grow stronger? Feel whole?'

All things familiar to him. Perhaps it would not make a poor companion, even if it eventually did try to kill him-

Adam's journey and train of though alike were cut short as a ridged fist smashed into his right temple, sending him flying through an ice giant, leaving a hole several times larger than his homeworld.

His beetle-like assailant was twice his height and almost as broad, covered in a smooth, navy-blue exoskeleton. He was absurdly reminded of a constable, and the being's posture and voice only added to the impression.

'Attention, stranger: you have entered the territory of the Honoured Kratocracy without authorisation, despite all demands to halt, identify yourself, and state your purpose. You...'

Demands? Adam frowned. He had never done well with demands, especially when people made none, then acted offended when he did not react.

'Do you have no communication device? Then what is a primitive like you doing here?!'

Drawing upon the power of the star he had consumed, Adam floated closer to the alien, punching a hole large enough to lean through in its chest.

The Vyzhaldi healed instantly, clicking her mandibles in satisfaction. Every fleck of life fluid and flesh that floated around her healed chest grew into an identical, if red-shelled copy of herself. Dozens of the Woundkin clenched fists or crossed their four arms. The instincts carved into the bedrock of their very being told them they were standing next to their progenitor and her enemy.

Ignoring the Woundkin, Adam punched again, just as hard. His broken hand bounced off the Kratocrat's chest, not even leaving a dent. Her return blow turned his torso to monochromatic mist, and he healed fast enough to see a thick leg rise to do the same to his lower half.

The instant the foot connected, Adam absorbed the kinetic energy into himself. Every following blow gave him more and more power, as, frustrated, the Kratocrat grew stronger and faster every moment. Soon, her Woundspawn joined her, raining fruitless blows upon his pale grey skin.

Closing his eyes, Adam drew the absorbed energy out, releasing it as a spherical pulse. The Vyzhaldi were vapourised too fast to feel anything, leaving him alone in space.

Now...to learn more about this "Kratocracy". The name suggested rule by strength, which suggested stupidity, a hypothesis the border guard's attitude had done nothing to disprove.

***

Ischyros flew through one uninhabited universe after another, quadrillions of galaxies obliterated by its passage as realities were reduced to nothing. Wukong quickly followed, spinning his staff in a mirror of his clones' movements.

They were all as strong as him, and utterly unable to harm the alien. Their powers likewise fell flat against it: it had no fate or soul, nor could it be given one; whatever matter made up its body could not be changed; it could not be trapped in pocket realms or timeloops, frozen in time, or erased from existence.

Still, it found his efforts-all ten billion of him-funny.

Good, Sun thought with a fierce grin. He was always pleased to entertain.

'Monkey!' Yua called out, appearing next to him. 'Stand back! I want to try a trick!'

Wukong possessed several forms of immortality and ways to heal himself alike. He, however, also possessed common sense.

Somersaulting a dozen universes away, he watched as the Heaven-Spurning Elder copied his power, then cloned himself. A Yua for every star, who then copied the alien's impervious body, and began increasing their strength.

'Ooh! Ischyros has always wanted to fight itself!'

***

'You are pathetic, you know?' Nacht asked softly as Solarex rose off Hex and it exited his joints.

Solarex tittered. 'Do not pretend you are not impressed.'

'Oh, I am-that you can lie to yourself like this.' It smiled at him. 'The embodiment of light and good: kindness, generosity, courage...and yet, you act the opposite.'

'I have been nothing but bright and kind my entire life,' Solarex said, sitting back on his throne. Scattered around the throne room, his worshippers began to abase themselves, praising their god's prowess, jeering at Hex and Nacht for their lack of gratitude.

'I suppose one could see it that way, if they ripped their eyes and brain out,' Nacht said. 'It will not work, you know? This is like me, being altruistic. It goes against the nature of your being. No matter how twisted you become, you will never fill that void, except by being true to yourself.'

'And why should I act as creation's civil servant, championing values derided as childish?' King Sun asked, feigning disinterest.

'Do you want to be destroyed? Rendered impotent? You will be, if you keep at it.'

'Rich, coming from a being that can't exist without an anchor that barely even cares about it.'

Nacht laughed, and every worshipper of Solarex fell to the floor across the Son of the Sun, hearts stopping in fear, or bursting from rage. Others, disgusted at themselves, clawed and tore at their bodies, ripping themselves apart. Some simply went mad, laughing at nothing as they swayed in place, before the darkness in the bodies swelled, dark tendrils and blades splitting them like rotten fruits. The Solarians struck at the lesser manifestations of Nacht, flares of power dwarfing a hypernova's filling light years of space, melting impossibly tough material.

And achieving nothing. Nacht's attention briefly moved to them, and their minds, which had weathered the wave of negativity with no issue, shattered like brittle ice, as demigods that had never known unease fell to their knees, screaming until their throats burst. Nacht then impaled their shining bodies on spear-like appendages, before drawing them into itself.

'Taunting Nacht will not improve your standing with Earth,' Hex said. His outfit, removed for the negotiations, returned around him, summoned with a thought. 'Stop, Nacht.'

With a look of supreme disdain, Solarex pursed his lips, putting the minds and bodies of his worshippers back together. Exact copies of the Solarians burst into existence as the damage to the Son of the Sun was restored.

'Do not damage my things,' King Sun said in a voice quivering with rage. 'They might be as worthless as you are, but they are mine.'