An hour after Isaac departs, I haul Lennon's unconscious body across the Old Fields of the Underworld. Strewn rocks and broken skulls line the earth, but they do little to dampen my enthusiasm. I practically skip through the path even as my body resists me. We did it.

We fucking did it.

We killed a God! Haha! Fuck yes!

Laughs fill the silent and empty air, with no one to join me in my celebration. I'd be lonely if it weren't for Blodwyn and Lily, who also share my joy, yet they are quiet souls. They honestly don't talk much. And if they do, it's often to each other.

Beyond the initial kill, neither has said much, preferring to recover in peace. Or languish in sadness, in Blodwyn's case. I understand the feeling, but I just can't do it like them. Finally. It was such a far-off, impossible goal a little more than a year ago.

And yet, here I am, walking away from a God's carcass. Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed by the spoils, but that's alright. We killed one. That means we can kill another. Lennon and I. Godslayers.

Glancing down, I note the man's scarred face, finding it to be locked in war even while resting. I am worried for him, for his future. How will he ever progress? Is there a future for someone like him who cannot use Ether as others do?

How will he imbue Conceptual Ether into his body? Concepts? Is that something possible with a mere Dominion? Mere... ha... how much shit has changed so quickly.

With a shake of my head, I continue toward the Gate of Death. In the distance, with my keen senses, I see movement, likely those Undead that we met previously. So, I lock onto them and head straight for their position.

But it ain't easy.

My muscles feel like lead after it's been beaten for a decade straight. Every step is a wobbling gait, and it doesn't help that I have to carry this bastard. At least he's pretty light, missing his arms and all. I just wish he'd fucking wake up. Is it really that hard?

Yeah. Yeah, it probably is. He's just a man. A tough son of a bitch, but in the end, we're all human.

I have two other Demigods propping me up, making up for my weaknesses and inexperience. The Bladeless Monster, however, is alone. All he has is that blade of his, forged from his very soul.

Many may envy him and wish that they possessed his strength, but I do not. I know the torture he's been through, the eternal struggle he puts himself under. It is... admirable.

But he will break eventually. One day, the struggle will bend his blade too far, and it won't reform. The only question that lingers in my mind as I force one foot in front of the other is simple.

Which will break first, Lennon Hull or the Gods bending the monster? I, for one, am of the thought that it will only be his own self that manages such an act.

******************

A chorus of calls and joyous shouts welcome me to the exit of the Underworld. At this point, there are only a few hundred more Undead that have not yet entered the tunnel to escape to the surface. Wait...

How long did we fight for? Wasn't this supposed to take days?

Was... did we fight that long? No way... I...

Shit. We did. It doesn't feel like that at all. Is that simply how battles at higher levels work? More back and forths as people are unwilling to show all their cards added onto the sheer difficulty it is to kill a Demigod, or damn it, a God?

I suppose that is how the world rotates now.

Waving back to the Undead, acknowledging their greetings, I stride past them. Frankly, I don't have the energy to stay here any longer. And... I think Lennon needs to see a doctor. My Ether is taking too long to recover for a Sacrifice after all that, especially with the depths of his injuries.

Can't wait to hear a 'How the fuck is he alive?' from one of Tomas' medics.

"Wendigo! Wendigo! Wendigo!"

"Monster! Monster! Monster!"

Chants fill the air, even as I simply ignore them, heading straight into the suffocating darkness of the Gate of Death with Lennon. As the noises die out, though, I do hear something that brings a smile to my lips.

"They did it, boys! We got ourselves our own Godslayers!"

Damn right. They must have taken what I said as gospel. One foot after another, I carry on through the dark, their very words giving me more strength. And as I walk through the valley shadowed by death, an azure light descends upon me.

Ripping my head up from the stone below, I see a familiar face. Birdie. She's the one ferrying people back and forth. Of course, she is. What a kind soul.

"Wyatt!? Lennon!? By the Devil! You two... come here! Now, young man!"

The Virtue grabs me by the shoulder and lugs Lennon's motionless body off mine before helping me pace forward. I open my mouth to speak but find it bereft of moisture, with only dryness to be found.

"You two... I'm going to die another death just seeing the both of you after a fight. We need to get you both checked out. If Blodwyn isn't healing you, then something has to be wrong."

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Suddenly, my vision wobbles. Huh? What's wrong? I know I was feeling weak, but it wasn't this bad, right? Birdie continues to drag the two of us through the shadows as she continues to berate me like a mother hen.

"Killed a God, did you? Or did you make a lucky? Either way, I can tell both of you were pushed beyond your limits. Don't do that! Only so many times can you do such things without something going wrong! And Lennon... By Her Cowl... people whisper how unkillable you are, but I think Lennon is a close second."

I can only nod in agreement as the darkness begins to recede. With just a few steps, we depart the shadows of death and enter the light of... artificial sun.

"Why are back so so—Wyatt!?"

Elizabeth stands at a table near our arrival, with stacks of paper and pens all over. My sight is all woozy, but I think those are identification papers. Are they giving Undead identification? I guess that makes sense.

Why am I even thinking about this...

"You will not die on my watch."

A rush of energy fills my whole being as my thoughts accelerate back to normal and my eyelids open all the way. I stumble out of Birdie's grasp and right into Elizabeth's weathered hands.

My friend holds me tightly as I notice just how calloused her fingers are. But the hands around my back and the wetness in my shoulder quickly distract me from such changes as her 6th Sigil.

Still, she doesn't speak, but Elizabeth isn't the only one in this chamber. Several Undead eye us oddly while Birdie tugs on me again.

"She can't speak while using her Power. Kind of like how yours used to work, if I remember right. Come. The medical tents are on the surface. We'll have to take the lift. Visit him in a bit, Elizabeth. There shouldn't be too many more. And take this."

The Virtue hands Elizabeth a pale blue lantern before continuing with Lennon and me. Though with Elizabeth's... Power, I feel enough like myself to walk. Nevertheless, it's still a struggle.

I limp through the underground tunnel system left behind by Eli or perhaps Vincent, each step a mix of determination and pain. The walls around me are lined with flickering orbs of light, casting a bizarre glow that stretches down the long corridors. The ceilings are reinforced with heavy steel beams, making me realize just how unsafe this place used to be, without even taking into account Angels fighting.

Soldiers rush past me, their eyes darting over my bloodied clothes and Lennon's hastily bandaged limbs before quickly looking away after a curt nod to Birde. It seems she's already made this place her home

She'd make a great leader alongside Tomas. I'm positive he's appreciating the help.

The crowds grow thicker as we press on, each person with their own urgent purpose. Some carry tools and equipment. Others clutch papers and small parcels, while a few even haul buckets of... explosives by the look of them. Dammit Earl. Every time.

They move with a sense of urgency as if the entire underground system is on the brink of something unseen, which we are. War. A war that will span all of the known world. As such, no one stops to ask me if I'm okay; no one offers to help. In this place, everyone has their own struggles.

Only Birdie gives me aid. And that's alright. It'd feel weird otherwise.

After what seems like an eternity, I reach a grand cylindrical room, its sheer size and complexity catching me off guard. The walls are dotted with dozens of platforms that rise and lower in constant motion, carrying people and cargo to various levels of the underground system. These lifts are my ticket out of here.

Yet the sudden change in scenery is jarring. I remember falling down this hole, fighting to end Eli Weiss' awful regime while the winds slashed at my face alongside the ice of Bemola or the radiance of Natos.

So much has changed in what... a month? Two? How long could we have really spent down there?

Shrugging, I watch the platforms for a moment, taking in the intricate system of cables and pulleys that keep them in motion. My body aches from the injuries, but the sight of a creation almost undoubtedly thought up by Earl, if not also designed by him, sets me at ease.

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my side, I follow Birdie onto the nearest platform, gripping the railing as it begins to ascend. My stomach sinks to my feet as Birdie calls upward at a platform rising above us already. I think I recognize some of the soldiers standing on it. But why don't I know them all? Oh right. They were recruiting.

"Sir! We need a medic immediately! Rush when you land! The Wendigo and the Monster have returned! Wounded but alive! And send word to Tomas!"

A flurry of motion and awed cries come from above as faces twist over the end to point at my half-doubled-over form and Lennon's limp body. Ii expect them to laugh and jeer, or something of the sort, but only reverence exists.

"Look! It's them!"

"Oh my Devil... I can't believe it!"

"They say only Wyatt Graves and Lennon Hull are stronger than Johnny! Do you guys think it's true?"

"No way! The First Iron is unbeatable!"

"What about the Third Iron? Or Fifth? I hear Bonfire and Abraham are awfully strong!"

"Pshh! Bonfire is just a booze drinker, and the Nahullo is always asleep!"

"Shut up, you three! He can fucking hear you! Don't talk bad about the Wendigo's friends right in front of him! I'm sorry, Wyatt. I'll give 'em a good beating when we get back to barracks. I promise."

I can only laugh, watching Arthur, a grizzled veteran from Bent rein in his new recruits. All of them are 1st or 2nd Sigileds, besides Arthur's second, who is a 4th. The man himself is a 5th Sigiled, quite a powerful man.

Waving at him, I let him know it's not a worry. Then, I turn to Birdie.

"Irons?"

The Undead woman nods as if expecting the question. While the lift continues to take us up, the cords and ropes somehow managing to do so, the woman rattles off some of the recent changes on the surface.

"Much has happened since you left. The people call our Angels Irons, now, after the common word for gun. I think it fits, but the youngins always argue who is strongest. Is it the 1st, Johnny Caldwell? Or is it the 2nd, Tomas Marshall? Or anyone else? The titles are simply in order of signing, not strength."

Birdie giggles with some joy, finding it all to be just as hilarious as I do. When the lift reaches its apex, a squad of medics already set with stretchers and... Edward's wife staring right at me, Biride whispers into my ear.

"Ignore their words. We all know the truth. The two most powerful figures on the surface are in my hands."

Then, she hands me off to Dawn, who stares at me in shock. I return the face she gives me, but I'm the first to break the silence as Lennon is hooked up to a blood bag and three people to watch over him, already using skills to aid his recovery.

"It's been a while."

The pregnant woman, vastly more along the way than I expected, nods at me. She looks... like she's almost due.

"It has—nearly nine months. He's almost ready, y'know?"

Lennon Hull is carried away while I put my recuperation for later. There are some things I need to know.

"How long? How long has it been?"

Dawn laughs, her blonde hair flipping into the air as she finds my words comical. But it doesn't feel like she's laughing at me, only with me.

"You silly goose. Can't you tell? It's May."

What. No... That's... that's impossible. We were in the Underworld for that long? Nearly five months? Shit... I know time passes weirdly without a sun, but it just feels so wrong.

The lovely wife of a Dudley strides forward, looping a hand around mine before tugging me onward. We only make it a step before she freezes, glancing back at me with visible terror.

"You... Are you even human anymore?"

Her fear wastes away quickly, but the pain I feel isn't lessened in any way. To her keen senses, I suppose my wounds and condition would allude to anything but humanity. So, I can only speak the truth, exactly what I feel.

"I don't know."

Dawn sighs, having an answer despite her own horror.

"I am sorry. That came out wrong. You are as human as you were the day you were born. Come. Let us get you looked over, hun. Wouldn't want a Demigod to die on my watch."

Regardless of the time that has passed or how our situations have changed, I cannot treat Dawn with anything less than my utmost respect. Tomas and Johnny can wait. I want to talk to her some more. it's like... speaking to a kind old lady. There is nothing I can do but be respectful.

"No. No, we wouldn't, ma'am."

In just a few moments, I end up in a tent, laying on a cot with Dawn watching over me. Other soldiers fawn over her and carry out her every request, and something tells me that's not just because she's pregnant. Those with the ability to heal are few and far between, less so those who can help others, fewer those at a high Sigil. I'm among that crowd now, too, but the cost of my aid is treacherous. Sacrifice is neither easy nor inexpensive. I think... it's part of why I'm recovering so slowly. Too many uses of the skill make wrest my body and soul of its nutrients and strength.

Dawn begins to speak to me while people funnel in and out, bringing news to her or medicine that she adds to my treatment. All the while, her Ether flows into my flesh, rejuvenating that which was lost.

"I've never seem a body so wrung dry before. It's... it's like you regenerated your entire system a hundred times over. Is that what happened? Yes. Well, that'd explain it. Were you not so tough, you'd have lost years of life. You... you are just like him. And his father. I can only hope little Edmund grows up without having to worry about all that."

I nod to her, already feeling drowsy from all the drugs she's shooting into me. If I wasn't so drained, though, I don't know how well they'd work. Plus... her voice is so soothing. Placing my trust in her, I listen to her some more, feeling my eyelids grow heavy.

"It's going to be up to you, Wyatt—you and the few others that can keep up. But... you're the only one I know. So, you're the only one I can ask. Wyatt Graves. Will you save the world? For me? For this little one in my belly?"

Dawn, still holding my hand from before so her Ether can work, moves my hand onto her protruding stomach, softly placing it atop her white medical garb. A surge of determination flows through me as I want to say yes. I want to promise her that I'll kill the Mother Below, that I'll make the world a safer place. But... I can't. I can't.

"I'll try my best."

A fragile hand caresses my forehead as the grogginess finally takes over, and a sweet tone whisks me away.

"That's all I can ask of you, hun. Sweet dreams."