Chapter 25 Death of the Deadman

“I can feel him!” Roach shouted as the team ran through the hallway.

“Roach, stick to the plan!” Goliath barked.

Ignoring Goliath’s orders, Roach sprinted ahead. He had an otherworldly sense that he was close. It was a right, left - straight on.

“Elora, stay close to Spike!” Goliath demanded, attempting to keep up with him. “Only use your magic when you think it’s needed. Do NOT suffocate us!”

“Yes, sir!” Elora responded with a heavy breath.

At the end of the hallway was a large arched door made from steel. Roach ran at it, aiming to kick through but was denied by its strength. “Fuck,” he grunted, getting up and reaching for a thermite on his belt.

Sparks flew and Roach took a step back. Goliath’s thudding footsteps came behind him. Putting his shoulder in front of him, Goliath timed the thermite’s end to his charge and busted open the steel gate.

“Take cover!” Goliath called out. He was peppered with bullets of a high calibre, causing him to take a step back.

“Grenade!” Roach yelled, chucking two in.

“Advance! Look for cover!” Goliath ordered, stepping into the room and holding his forearms against his eyes.

The team pushed into the room, clouded by the dust from the grenades. It was a hall of sorts with high ceilings. At the back, bunk beds, tables, cabinets and dressers had been used as a firing line. Across the floor, faeces and ration packs were scattered.

The team had found cover but there was not a lot; yet again they were pinned down.

“Elora!” Goliath shouted.

She was crouched behind a cabinet, flinching with every bullet that passed over her.

“Elora!”

Breathing heavily through her gas mask, she peeked above, seeing only muzzle flashes.

“ELORA!”

She bent back down, gathering fire in her palms. Mustering courage, she lent them on the top of the cabinet and a spray of volatile fire was sent hurtling towards the Children of Discordia.

“Move!” Goliath barked, charging forward. He kicked over a set of bunk beds, sending them skidding across the ground and slamming three of them against the wall, cracking their ribs and pushing the air out of their legs

Roach climbed over a dresser and without hesitation, shot the three in the head, splattering the bare walls behind them with brain matter. Slotting his pistols in their hostlers, he sheather his daggers and lunged toward one, jamming his dagger in their gut while the other pierced their skull through their throat.

Mute darted out from behind him, slicing one in half completely while another was mutilated by a spectral arrow.

“Seven o’clock!” Pointy announced. “Hydro!”

In the far corner, a female elf was gathering water in her palms and projecting a rune in front of her. Quickly, a stream of water was emitted from her palms, passing through the rune which turned it into long streams of sharpened ice.

The stream of ice penetrated Goliath’s shoulder, piercing through his shoulder muscle and pinning him against the wall.

“I can’t get a shot!” Pointy shouted, bullets whizzing over his head.

Roach sprinted forwards, diving over their back line and firing two shots off at the hydromancer. One entered her shoulder and the other missed. It didn’t stop the onslaught of her attacks and he was riddled with bullets and ice.

The team was pinned down once more.

“Princess,” Spike said loudly over the gunshots, “if you got anything, get it out.”

“I don’t have anything else,” she said frantically.

“Use your head, princess,” Spike stated, poking his assault rifle over the cabinet and firing aimlessly.

Why was she here? What did she have to prove? She wasn’t just here for Roach, was she? The anxiety that built up inside of her quickly turned to rage masked by fake courage. Her skin began to glow a warm orange and her eyes flickered with endless flames. Spike glanced at her for a second before returning his eyes down, then immediately back to her in awe.

Standing up, Elora cast a rune in front of her which formed into a shield wall of superheated air. A gun was quickly trained on her and a bullet was ejected. It was incinerated before it reached her.

Roach, now regenerated, emerged in the backline and began cutting them down. With all attention drawn to Elora, the Ill-Favoured Five without Goliath advanced.

It didn’t take long before the Children of Discordia lay in a pool of their own blood. Roach gave a silent nod to Elora who quickly removed the heat from her skin.

“A little help!” Goliath called to them, still impaled into the wall. It was at such an angle that he couldn’t yank it out himself. In addition, he was bleeding profusely from the wound, the dark red liquid tinged with gold.

“I can’t close that quickly enough,” Pointy stated, rushing over.

“Elora,” Goliath grunted.

“How can I help?” she questioned, following Pointy.

With a shaky left hand, he grabbed hers and placed it next to the wound still with the spear of ice embedded. “Burn,” he grunted with a shake of his jaw.

Elora, horrified, hesitated.

“Do it, Elora,” Roach said, reloading a pistol.

She closed her eyes and heated her palm. The aroma of cooking flesh filled her nose. Though she couldn’t bear to look, the camera was capturing it all.

“It’s closed!” Pointy exclaimed.

Elora retracted her hand and Goliath writhed in pain. Her hand had been imprinted over the wound. Spike and Roach each offered a hand to the massive man and pulled him back up to his feet.

“Let’s finish this prick,” Goliath grunted with a roll of his shoulders. He began walking to a set of reinforced steel doors at the back of the hall. Roach was already facing it, staring at it through his mist as if they were the gates of the Land Beyond. Akira Weslen was behind them. Roach experienced every emotion all at once.

“Is that it, Roach?” Goliath questioned.

The man did not reply, and all they could hear was erratic inhales.

Grunting and cursing, Goliath dragged his club from the ground onto his shoulder. With a powerful thump, the door budged an inch. Beams had been attached on the other side. With another whack, the doors shifted away from its frame. With the last hit, they bust open.

There Akira Weslen was, drenched in a cloak like theirs, in the back of a large, carved-out cave with hundreds of bones leading to him. He was hunched over a desk inputting commands into a computer. To the side of him, attached to it, was the glass cylinder with the item suspended inside. Purple streams of energy were being siphoned off it.

“WESLEN!” Roach bellowed, stepping in front of Goliath.

Akira Weslen’s head snapped in their direction despite his fingers still inputting commands. His face was half-rotten.

“Fuck me mate, you need some moisturiser,” Spike commented.

Roach began his sprint. His body became relaxed and flexible, and pure rage powered him - this was it, the final stretch. He didn’t get very far, however, as Akira Welsen stuck out a palm and streams of grey and black magic curled around the bones by his feet.

A skeletal hand grabbed Roach’s ankle but was shot off within a split second. Roach yelled as more clawed at him; he became stuck in an endless breaking of bones.

“Elora!” Goliath ordered.

Upon the order, streams of fire were ejected from her palms, scorching the rising skeletons. It wasn’t enough, and smoke billowed into the cave.

Gripping his club, Goliath charged through the smoke but was promptly halted by an undead taking shape. It was large - two stories tall, quadruped, with six horns sticking out unsymmetrically from its skull.

“War rhino!” Pointy informed, letting two arrows fly. They bounced off. “Oh bother.”

Although all its bones hadn’t taken shape yet, the undead war rhino charged Goliath. Throwing his club to the side, he caught the horns and steaded it, but more bones were being added to the monstrosity. Soon, its strength became overwhelming. Its body was coated in layers of thick keratin, with bones in places which made no anatomical sense. It was chimeric in nature - a true testament to the brutality from both Wars of New Kings.

Spike strummed his guitar, suppressing the almighty war rhino. Regardless of his powerful sound waves, the war rhino continued shoving Goliath with increasing strength, causing him to skid into a cave wall where an out-sticking rock cut deeply into his back.

“AHHH!” Goliath bellowed, falling onto his knees.

Spike upped the frequency, and Elora fired small balls of fire to keep it distracted. Mute ran to the side, climbing on the walls and propelling herself off with her sword above her head. She aimed for one of the horns and her curved blade found purchase but only cut halfway through. The war rhino reared up on its hinds, ejecting Mute away without her sword. Twisting her hips in mid-air, she landed on three points of contact and darted out the range of the rampaging undead.

“GRRAAAHHHH!” Goliath screamed, his voice becoming deeper. Seeing Mute be tossed like a fly only enraged him further,

“Fuck,” Spike spat, turning his head to Pointy.

“We work around him,” Pointy responded, acting hastily.

Spike nodded.

“What? What’s going on?” Elora questioned frantically.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Goliath’s muscles began to grow, tearing his t-shirt and armour. Golden blood poured out of the wound on his back which grew with him. His eyes flickered with golden light and the veins coursing through his muscles pulsed the same. He grew to the same size as the war rhino - the only difference: he was far more angry.

Goliath’s rough hands grabbed the horns of the war rhino, managing to hold it still to prevent its rampage. Although he had lost all control, the undead war rhino was highlighted red in his vision.

“Grab it Mute!” Pointy called out to her; she was useless without her sword after all.

She launched herself onto the back of Goliath, using his muscles as stepping stones. Leaping over the gap between the two titans, she yanked her glistening sword out and landed in a pile of bones down below.

Roach was fighting tooth and nail ahead; tens of skeletons were attacking him. He was punching, biting, stabbing and headbutting his way through them. He was so close - he couldn’t stop.

The cave started to shake upon the first clash between the Titans. Debri began to fall from the ceiling, interrupting their fight and dispersing the team. Large rocks crushed skeletons down below and the team dodged when they could.

“Goliath, if you can hear me, hold it still!” Pointy announced, lying on the ground with his bow by his feet.

“He doesn’t have much of a choice!” Spike cursed.

With both hands, he pulled on the string and a large mana arrow began to take shape in the hilt.

Spike was focusing solely on suppressing the war rhino. Mute was running up both Titans but slicing only one. Though her blade didn’t pierce its tough keratin or bone through enormous effort, she made an excellent distraction.

Elora was keeping the skeletons at bay while the rest focused on the war rhino. Her camera was still capturing the event - powered by magic and not electronics. The whole of New London was watching in anticipation.

Pointy aimed the bow by tilting his leg up. He was pouring all his mana into a singular enormous arrow which hopefully would be able to penetrate the tough keratin and bone protecting its spine. Luck would have to be on his side as it was impossible to aim the shot.

Roach stood around three dozen skeletons with heavy breath; he was covered in bite marks and slashes. His armour, cloak and t-shirt were in complete ruin. He wiped the thick blood off his brows and focused his attention on Akira Weslen. The man was obsessing over the computer, darting his eyes back to the item inside the cylinder.

Without looking, Akira Weslen outstretched his palm, releasing his fleshmancy upon Roach, rotting him to the bone. Yet he stood up, seconds later.

“This is your end,” Roach told him, his tone void of emotion.

He was rotted once more.

“You just kept on running.”

Akira Weslen dropped his cloak and aimed both his palms at Roach. He was almost a full licht; the only thing still living was a portion of his face and his oily black heart. Gathering soulmancy in his hand, he thrusted a powerful Soul Shatter towards Roach.

Roach gasped and fell onto one knee but stood back up again. Now he had the man’s attention.

“Don’t you see, I made you!” Akira Welsen yelled at him, placing his hand into the contraption. A blueish-purple magic was sucked from it and circled his visible mana veins. “Yes yes!”

“You did create me, but I never asked for this,” Roach grunted, taking a step forward.

“Blessed by Yelia! Forged by Sephora - something I wanted!”

“By torturing hundreds of children!”

“Hypocritical of you, Unwanted. If I am sinful what does that make you?!”

“I may be sinful, but my sins haven’t caught up with me yet,” Roach told him, taking another step forward.

Akira Weslen retracted his hand from the machine, his eyes glowing a fierce purple. Space distorted around his body - no doubt from the mana he was pulling from the item. Slowly, he pointed his palm at Roach. “Goodbye, Solomon.”

Roach stood still as a purple-infused Soul Shatter enveloped him. For the first time, he stopped with an open mouth. His face hit the floor and Akira Weslen grinned with every tooth on display.

In awe of the power, Akira Weslen looked at the powerful mana zipping through his body. It had worked.

“I never stopped hunting you,” Roach groaned, leaning on one knee and standing back up.

Then Akira Weslen felt it, the dread, the doom, and his inevitable death. His life of ill-will and massacre had caught up to him. “That should have killed you!” he cried in protest.

“You killed me long ago, Weslen, in that bed,” Roach stated, shuffling forward. “I bet it keeps you up at night, seeing that snake, knowing it's not yours!”

Akira Weslen scrunched his half-rotten face and stuck his hand back in the machine. Even more of the powerful magic wrapped itself around him. He opened his palm up but couldn’t raise it to face him. His body betrayed him - his mana veins were corrupted.

“What?! They said it would work!!!” he cried in horror.

Roach shuffled two steps forward.

“Get it over with!” Akira Weslen bellowed, turning his attention back to Roach. “Yelia will accept me with open arms!”

“I want to see it in your eyes.”

“See what?” he questioned, falling onto one knee, powerless.

“Fear,” Roach replied, stepping forward and wrapping his hand around his neck. He, now a man, holding up a pathetic collection of bones begging for their end that once ruined him. “I want to see the pain and helplessness in your eyes. I want to show you what I saw every day back then.”

“It was my deal, blessing thief!”

Roach unhooked a dagger from his waist whilst maintaining eye contact through his mist. “You were the last on my list. My deal ends with you.”

Akira Weslen laughed maniacally. “It will be wonderful to spend eternity together as warriors of Yelia! What a wonderful idea!”

Goliath punched the head of the undead war rhino, knocking it into the cave wall. He was seeing red still - the undead outlined in his vision. The cave shook with the impact, showering rocks around them.

“I can’t hold this much longer!” Pointy called over to Spike.

The eccentric bard’s head snapped towards his teammate, then to Elora. “Cover me,” he bellowed to her, throwing his guitar down and sliding over to Pointy on the ground. Spike placed a black leather boot against the bow and yanked with everything he had. Sweat poured off both their foreheads and every inch of mana Pointy had was being infused into the arrow.

“GRAAHHHHHH!!!” Goliath screamed, charging into the side of the war rhino and knocking it into the wall once more. A pile driver came down next, cracking its ribcage. The war rhino swung its huge horns in retaliation, impaling Goliath’s thick skin at his lower waist. He howled and bellowed, but whatever he did, he couldn’t get it out.

Pointy pulled and pulled, pushing past his limits with adrenaline running through his bloodstream. His muscles began to tear but he kept hold.

“FLIP THE CUNT!” Spike screamed at Goliath.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

Golden blood poured down Goliath’s leg but he still grabbed the chin of the war rhino with both of his large, clubby hands. Another horn pierced his left shoulder, but he forced it down to get a better grip. The man yanked it upwards, lifting its two front hooves from the stone. The two were in limbo at the moment, with neither side willing to give up their position.

Suddenly, Mute dashed under the legs of Goliath, sliding past the war rhino’s raised front legs and arriving at its rear. She jammed her sword into the radius and pushed with all her small might. Pressure released and her glowing green sword passed through the bone. The war rhino cried out in a deep roar and lifted its hind legs to kick out.

At that moment, Goliath pulled it up off the floor and tilted it above his head. With a deep grunt and roar, he fell backwards with it.

“TAKE COVER!!” Pointy screamed, letting go of the string, freeing the enormous arrow onto its path of destruction.

It found purchase in the spine of the war rhino, exploding it into a thousand pieces. The arrow sailed through without hindrance, impaling itself into the cave roof. Pointy had not thought about it passing through completely - he had overdone it. It was as if they were in the middle of an earthquake. The entire cave shook violently, throwing the Ill-Favoured Five all over.

Goliath’s bloodied body began to shrink, turning back into his original self. Mute was the first to run over to him, holding his head in her lap while pushing against the wounds. Spike was next followed by a limping Pointy with Elora.

“The cave is collapsing!” she screamed at them.

“It’s a bad time to say it but no shit, princess,” Spike huffed. “Get him up! We can carry him.”

Mute and Spike threw Goliath’s arm over their shoulders and began dragging him towards the exit.

“What about Roach?” Elora questioned as she shot flames through from her palms. “What about the leader?”

With a limp on the spot, Pointy looked back at his teammate. He and Akira Weslen had just been thrown aside by a falling rock that crushed the cylinder, releasing the stone. The cave was collapsing; there was nothing more he or they could do. For some reason, however, a holistic thought encroached on his mind; Roach wanted this. Elora, on the other hand, didn’t.

“Roach!!!” she screamed, running towards him.

Roach got up and pulled his pistol out. He fired a shot across the cave that zipped past her ear. “LEAVE!” he bellowed angrily, aiming the gun down at her head.

Elora pulled the gas mask off her face, seeing the man she had fallen in love with. She saw his marks, his aggressive body language and his fractured face through the mist. Roach didn’t lower his aim.

“Elora!” Pointy called back. “We have to go!”

In shock and disbelief, Elora remained still; perhaps he didn’t feel the same way. Roach turned his back to her, showing the skull swimming around as if his skin was water.

Akira Weslen crumpled on the ground like a pensioner after a fall - the item bouncing to a stop by his head. His eyes fixated on it but his mind wasn’t obeying him and the mana running through his body was corrupted beyond repair.

“It’s just me and you now,” Roach muttered, the cave falling around them. Bending down, he reached out for the man’s neck and not the stone, gripping his spine and pushing him into the air.

Then Roach felt it, the skull across his body; it released itself from his back, pushing away the thousands of tallies and making its way to his pectoral muscles. It crawled up to his neck and replaced his face. The mist became violent, mimicking the deathly skull.

“Go on, take it!” Akira Weslen’s gasped, nodding weakly down. “The Stone of Discordia! A power unlike any other if you can wield it!

Uncaring for such power, Roach replied, “I’m going to feed you your own heart now.” Roach’s hand stuck itself into Akira Weslen’s ribcage, grasping at his black-laced, slimy heart. Retreating his hand with it clasped inside, he stuffed it into Akira Welsen’s mouth. The half-licht’s body haltered - his eyes drifted - fading. The projected skull on his face stretched its mouth open wide, inhaling the man’s soul, the deal complete.

Below him, the item absorbed some of the blessing's power, spinning it around itself.

The skull dispersed and Akira Weslen’s lifeless skeleton dropped to the ground. It was done. He was free. The chains of Yelia were relinquished. He fell to his knees, opening his arms up sparingly to the falling rocks above him. Finally. Peace.

Unexpectedly, the strange woman with faded writing across her body appeared from a collection of bones on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Roach asked her.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she bent down and grabbed the stone with a cloth, cradling it like a child. However, she noticed it had changed, evident by her frowning brows. Sensing the danger, she vanished and a collection of bones replaced her.

All the skeletons around the Ill-Favoured Five suddenly dropped. It was the least of their worries; the cave they came from had completely fallen in, and the mine was close behind it. Pointy was writing healing runes on Goliath’s body while Elora and Spike were dragging him out, attempting to slow the blood loss.

Elora was in a full-blown panic as they dragged Goliath’s body through the hallways.

Spike shouted. “Boseman!”

They had arrived at the exit to the room of flesh where a portion of the cave had fallen away, opening it out. The Guardian was sitting on a pile of bones, his hands placed on his temples. Beneath his feet, were Kilo and Nest. Beneath them, was a puddle of blood. Trust was strewn over the undead giant’s large femur, breathing but breathless.

“Boseman!” Spike shouted again, dropping Goliath’s arm.

Boseman didn’t reply.

“BOSEMAN!”

Boseman looked up, the mist on his face solemn. “Is he dead?” was all that he asked.

“He’s dead,” Pointy huffed, falling onto the ground, exhausted.

Boseman looked down at his fallen teammates again at a loss for words. Years of fighting by their side and they were ripped from him. No tears fell from his face, however.

“How do we get out?” Elora wondered, her tone desperate.

Boseman looked over to Trust who held up her arm. The muscles in her biceps, forearms and hands were all cramping. She was out of mana.

“Shit,” Elora cursed, gasping, crying almost, dropping her hold on Goliath. She sat down on a large handbone and pulled the gas mask off her face.

Goliath groaned.

With Trust’s mana gone, and no staircase up, a feeling of dread fell over them all. This was it. At least they had accomplished what they set out to do; job done.

Suddenly, Spike rose to his feet, cursing at them, “You all are grumpy sacks of shit! You’re all just gonna sit here and fucking die?!”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK WE CAN DO?” Boseman screamed at him, standing up too. “The mission is complete. We’ve done what we needed to do!”

Spike retreated, staring at the pile of flesh in thought. As he stared longingly into it, an eyebrow was raised. “You know, I was gonna save this for the celebrations.” Reaching into a pocket in his leather jacket, he pulled out a bag of iridescent dust.

“You’re fucking with me,” Boseman spat, glad but disappointed.

“Uh - I don’t do drugs,” Trust replied, teary and weazy.

“It’s our only way out,” Boseman regrettingly agreed.

Spike moved to the bodies of Kilo and Nest. Carefully, he offered, “May I?”

Boseman nodded.

Fingering the bag, he brought out a pinch and threw it over the bodies. Gently, they rose from the puddles of blood. He turned to Elora next. “Might want to turn the camera off, princess.”

Akira Weslen appeared on a battlefield from his memories, only twisted to his fantasy. The sky was dyed orange, and the broken land beneath his feet was covered in thick, blood-stained mud. Barbed wire and Czech hedgehogs were strewn about. In the distance, tracer rounds were being fired through the air, with explosions in the sky dropped from dozens of planes above.

However, there were no bodies. All the action was in the distance. It was almost peaceful.

“Your idea of a perfect place is a bloody war,” Roach’s voice said behind him.

Akira Weslen turned around—his form was human, and he wore a Necrowarriors military dress adorned with medals and broaches.

“In this place, I became who I am today,” Akira Weslen replied, his mouth turning into a warm but twisted smile. “I was the king of the battlefield; the saviour and the slayer.”

“Why did you do it?” Roach asked with genuine intrigue in his tone. Roach didn’t want him to gloat but to be honest—what can bring a man to adore this place?

“You and I are quite similar,” Akira Weslen remarked, breathing deeply in from his nose.

“We are not the same,” Roach replied hastily.

“Do you not remember the horrors after the Great Merge? You must have learnt about it during your training. Tens of millions dying pointless deaths. Men slaughtering others over land and coin … I do. I was there. I watched as people who I grew up with were torn to shreds and tore others to shreds. My environment was cruel like yours.”

“Why am I not like you then?”

“I wondered that too. You had a goal. I had not.”

“Then why do it … the kids—”

“I was obsessed with the ancient powers from Lumina. It was a world where the strong reigned supreme. Magic and monsters and everything in between. Then after the War of New Kings, everything just turned sour again like the old world. I was a Major, a force to be reckoned with, then I became a loose veteran who needed to be on a leash. I wanted to bring it all to its knees once more where I was the king—the top of the pyramid, but I needed the power to do it.”

“You’re selfish,” Roach said plainly, turning to look at the view.

“Oh yes,” Akira Weslen agreed, turning with him. “Aren’t we all? We all do things to benefit ourselves. I missed it, truly. The fear I struck in people. When they wept by my shoes as their bodies turned from flesh to bone.”

“But kids!”

“The soul of a man is the same as the soul of a boy, only less tainted by its sins. It is not yet to be moulded. Yours … It was unique. I had never seen anything like it. So many failures; I thought children with rare affinities could unlock it, but a boy with no magic holding the perfect soul?”

“And that was your ticket.”

Akira Weslen paused, turning his neck up to look at the sky. “I am not ashamed of what I did. I lived with my sins until my last moments. Can you live with yours?”

“I was dead after what you did to me. Each time you looked at my soul you saw it shatter further. Every time I was strapped in you had a sick look in your eye.”

Akira Weslen began to chuckle. “And why does that matter anymore? We’re both dead in the Land Between. The living are far past us.”

“I spent months here as a boy, learning it, loving it. The endless possibility of every dream dreamt. If my soul was intact I would explore every fantasy, experience every love and loss—something I could never do. I learned that the souls you shattered remain here indefinitely. I also learned how to control dreams and memories.”

The man opened his hand sparingly, “Your point.”

“My list was my deal. My revenge was with you,” Roach said, his expression blank. Ever so discretely, a smirk crept on his face. With a click of his fingers, he vanished.

Akira Weslen stood in the warehouse where he conducted his experiments. A doctor's coat cloaked him, with his hands in latex gloves stained with blood. However, the entire floor was covered in grates, unlike what he remembered.

“This doesn’t scare me,” Akira Weslen told the empty warehouse.

Hundreds of harrowing screams came from the grates, followed by fingers reaching out of them, rattling to all hell. They began to shake violently.

“You may not remember these kids, but they remember you. They are cursed to live here forever; their souls were shattered like mine,” Roach’s voice spoke around him.

“They’re not real!” Akira Weslen shouted.

“They are very real,” a young boy said, stepping out from a door in the warehouse.

It was Solomon. His ribs poked through his chest and hundreds of needle holes covered his body. The grates were suddenly thrown around the room by a supernatural force and out came children by the dozens. They were starved, burnt, mutilated and grotesque.

With wide eyes, Akira Weslen opened his palms but no magic came out flowed out. Suddenly, above him, the metal spider cranked down from the ceiling. Despite the rigid appearance of the metal, its appendages were flexible and wrapped around his four limbs. He was hoisted at waist height as the children approached him.

“This is not real!” Akira Weslen bellowed again.

Despite what he cried, they are the shattered souls trapped between two worlds and they bear the ultimate resentment to their jailer. Each of the children began grabbing Akira Weslen, taking portions off him as if they were cake - revenge is sweet, after all. The man’s cries echoed around the abandoned warehouse but none escaped it. With each grab came a portion of his soul - forever broken and lost.

When Akira Weslen was nothing more than a strip of flesh and bone, Solomon, the young, starving boy, charged forward, knocking Akira Weslen out of the grasp of the metal spider and sending him tumbling into a different memory.

It was a private room overlooking a nightclub, with a lowered seating in the middle. His body was whole now, but his soul wasn’t. Roach kicked open a door, dressed in a tuxedo. Running forward, he struck the man across the face, shattering whatever was left of his soul into smaller pieces. Akira Weslen was sent barrelling into a new dream.

There Roach appeared on a highway, where he struck Akira Weslen again, syphoning his soul off further.

Dozens of dreams and memories Akira Weslen was punched through until he eventually collapsed on a large branch stretching across the sky. Cowering in a fetal position, he stared into the oblivion with wide, soulless eyes. Every emotion, every memory, every detail about his life, was gone.

Roach stood over the cowering man. Victory.

Suddenly, his surroundings changed to a bleak forest, and Akira Weslen was with him no longer present. He reverted to his younger self: the starving Solomon. All of his anguish had disappeared; the hatred for Akira Weslen and his accomplices was no more. He was back to who he truly was underneath the tallies and skull.

“The deal is done,” Sephora told him, stepping out from behind a tree.

Solomon looked down at his dirty hands, his life flashing before his eyes.

Looking upwards, Sephora took in the black canopy above. It was still the same as before; boring and colourless. But, now, the young boy could finally pass onto the other side, like he had always wanted. His soul was whole once more.

She extended her hand out to him like she had all those years ago. With teary eyes, the young boy reached out and grabbed her elegant hand. She let out a sigh of relief finding it was warm and not icy cold.

Gracefully, Sephora walked forward, guiding Solomon through the bleak forest. However, she stopped upon noticing a red flower growing between the roots of one of the trees. It had not yet bloomed but was on the cusp.

“What is it?” Solomon questioned, looking up at her with sorrowful eyes.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, continuing.

As if walking through a door into the void, they emerged into a field of wheat. There were no moons in the sky, only dotted clouds and a bright sun which coated the farmland in golden light. A windmill was stationed on the top of a hill in the distance, with a creaky wooden cabin below.

With Sephora holding his hand, they walked toward it.

The sight was beautiful - it was all he ever wanted since the first time he arrived. The smell of the fertile dirt and the gentle warmth from the sun. No bodies were lying around, no junky overdosed at his door. Despite it all, he thought of his sisters. He had left them an enormous wealth and signed a contract with Mercy regarding them. He and someone else were the only ones who knew of his deal.

They arrived at the old door leading into the wooden shack. Although it looked old, it was almighty inviting. The aroma of fresh bread and cooked meats floated through the cracks in the wood.

Sephora guided him in front, releasing her hold. Tears began to pour and his expression twisted into a bittersweet frown. As he was about to turn the handle, it glowed orange. Solomon released his grip as the handle melted away.

“Yelia!” Sephora screamed at the top of her lungs, stepping in front of the young boy.

“I just wanted to make sure the boy had completed our deal,” Yelia replied, stepping out from behind the windmill. A trail of ash and magma grew with each of her bare-footed steps.

“You know the deal is finished, Yelia. Begone, and let this boy pass in peace. His soul will be yours.”

“Doesn’t he know?” Yelia asked Sephora with unblinking eyes. “Once you make a deal with the devil, you shall dance with her for eternity.”

As her sentence ended, the wooden shack burst into flames and a weighty tendril of ash smacked Sephora through it. The roof collapsed, spraying red hot ash into the sky and covering the young boy. It burnt through his skin but he did not cry out.

A tendril of ash wrapped around his waist, hoisting him up in the air. Yelia brought the boy to herself with a devious grin and eyes that flickered with excitement. Finally, Sephora’s power had vanished from him.

Solomon stared back - his tears had dried and his stare was cold. He was not afraid of her, not in the slightest. Yelia, the True God of Doom, Death and Destruction, Head Deity of the Black Moon, with a power so great, hundreds of millions used to bow to her statues. But there was not a raise in his heart rate or twitch of any muscle.

“There it is,” Yelia murmured in awe, “there you are, my sweet boy. What have they started calling you, The Immortal? It’s a nice title, befitting for a deviant of the new age.” Her neck bent backwards and her mouth stretched open, and the same snake slithered into the air.

“I bless thee, Solomon,” the snake spoke, “with my power from the Black Moon. You will become my Deviant, Solomon the Immortal!”

The snake bared its fangs and hastily attacked, sinking its fangs deep into his neck and injecting its paralytic venom. A second later, the snake began to drag its fangs along the top of his skin, drawing itself onto his body. Sephora was nowhere; the young boy was at Yelia’s mercy, and she showed none.

Strands of black magic began to zip through the fields of wheat, attaching themselves back to Solomon.

Suddenly, he was dropped from its grasp, and the young boy fell into the wheat field with a body of bloody art. Slowly, the snake retracted back into her mouth. She had imprinted him with the Mark of the Immortal.”

Sephora emerged from the ruins of the burning hut. However, she was in her white gown and her beautiful scythe was not present in her hands.

“So typical, aunty,” Sephora remarked, cocking her head.

Yelia laughed. “He is mine now. I have claimed him.”

“I don’t think so,” Sephora countered, looking at Solomon between them.

It was not the young boy who stood back up, but Roach. His body had been forged into the image of his title; a man at his peak - age and health, with the physique of an athlete. On his back was the skull from before, but now, viscous snakes were coming out of its eyes that curled around his arms, stopping just short of his hands.

Yelia opened her mouth in protest.

“You may have written the terms but I forged the deal. I changed the requirements. The deal is only finished when the boy enters the Land Beyond,” Sephora stated, a hint of pleasure in her voice.

“YOU!”

“Me? I saved your life, Yelia. If the Black Moon saw a new deviant, we would all be eradicated. This boy has a blessing from both of us now; he is not just yours. He will not carry just your mark but mine.”

Slowly, Roach turned around, staring at his new body. “Why would you do this to me!?” he cried out.

Sephora placed a hand over her heart. Yelia had given him the power of the Immortal, and Sephora had blessed him with a new life of his own. To live freely, not bound by a single god or deviant, but two, so neither of them could control him.

“Where’s Roach?” Boseman questioned.

“He’s stuck down there, took the cunt with ‘em,” Spike replied, floating through the air, high as a kite.

Below them, the cave began falling in on itself.

“Is the entire mine going to collapse?!” Elora questioned urgently.

“Negative, Lady Evergrand,” Pointy replied, pushing his glasses up his nose “It was unstable down below but the arch in the mine is true.”

Eventually, they reached the drop-off and grabbed the side of the cliff to control themselves. The immediate high wore off quickly and gravity forced them onto the blackened stone. Pointy and Mute both rushed to Goliath’s side. He was barely conscious - his blood loss was severe.

Strangely, Boseman’s earpiece crackled to life.

“Move in on the mine!”

“Iceman!” he called through it.

“Boseman? How are you contacting me?”

“I don’t know. We need help. Code Black. Kilo and Nest down. Goliath is injured.”

“Get the Earthmancers!” Iceman’s voice boomed through the earpiece. “We need a way in!”

Elora cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows. “Does that—”

“The item is not here anymore,” Pointy finished, offering the same puzzlement as her. He continued to draw weak lines of mana on Goliath’s body.

“Wouldn’t that take a shit-tonne of mana?” Spike wondered.

“It depends,” Trust responded. “If it's a teleportation pad, I don’t think it would be able to. If it’s a Spacial Switch then possibly. I could never.”

“Oh fuck,” Boseman grunted. “So we failed?”

“He’s dead,” Spike sighed. “That’s enough.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Boseman replied, gritting his teeth and rubbing his temples.

“What is it?” Pointy asked, stopping his healing runes.

“Mercy told me—” he shook his head. “I can’t, sorry.”

“I understand,” Pointy replied, turning his attention back to Goliath. “Mute, can you hold this skin taut so it can join.”

“Secure the area!” Iceman ordered as the last chunk of stone came away, crashing down into the mine.

Dozens of Fodders ranks exited, zooming around the enclosed mine.

“There they are!” one exclaimed with a pointed finger.

Among the entrance party were men in suits, with Raptors and Guardians in the rear. It was a pleasant sight for the team knowing all Children of Discordia had been dealt with.

Gently, Boseman bent down and picked the two limp bodies up from the floor. He began walking over to Iceman. Trust trailed behind him, her head somberly hung down.

“Report?!” Iceman shouted, skidding down the slope with a one-handed axe drawn.

“He’s dead,” Boseman huffed, “but the item - I don’t know. Kilo and Nest down.”

Iceman paused for a second. “Apologies.”

“None needed,” Boseman replied, walking past him. “Can I get some cloths?!” he called to the Fodders.

“We need a healer here!” Iceman requested.

Iceman approached the Ill-Favoured Five - his main attention was on Elora. Although her face was sweaty and covered in grime and blood, she didn’t appear to be harmed, just exhausted. “Lady Evergrand,” he calmly said, “the king and your father wish for your immediate safe return.”

“I thought the king requested you to be here?” Pointy stated in confusion.

Elora looked to the floor and shook her head. In a defeated tone, she uttered, “I forged the letter.”

A moment of silence before Spike broke it with a laugh, which turned into a chuckle soon after. “Fun fighting with you, princess.”

“Likewise, Spike. Could you send Roach my regards?” Elora asked.

“If you give me your number I can—”

“Not a chance,” she declared.

“Lady Evergrand!” a man in a suit shouted, almost falling over his own feet. “Lady Evergrand! Are you harmed?”

“I’m fine, Nigel,” she replied, standing up and dusting herself off. “Until next time, Ill-Favoured Five.”

Goliath cracked an eye open as he saw Elora Evergrand be taken away. “Is everyone alive?” he grunted, feeling green energy pulse into his wounds. “Is that prick dead?”

“Nest and Kilo are gone,” Pointy replied, slumped against a rock. A healer rushed over and began to examine his torn muscles. “Akira Weslen is deceased. Roach stayed behind to make sure.”

“I wonder how many marks he’s gonna get,” Goliath tutted, groaning after.