Admetus stands with his sword driven through Euryssa's heart, the blade jutting from her back. Obscure-colored blood drips down, staining her capelet and soaking her deep red coat. The steel has cut clean through her ribcage—yet she feels no pain.
Wha— She glances down at her chest, mind struggling to grasp why agony hasn't come despite the heavy bleeding. Her eyes lift to meet Admetus', his grip firm on the sword.
Kerberon is struck dumb, panic swirling through him at the sight of the princess of hell struck by a mortal.
"Don't just stand there!" he barks, lunging forward—his words aimed at Zir, who remains frozen.
Admetus catches the approaching demon in his periphery and smirks bitterly.
"It's impressive I've lasted this long," he says to Euryssa. "Well… I guess this is it."
"YOU INSECT!" Kerberon roars, his fist smashing into Admetus' face. The blow tears him from the sword, flinging him across the ground.
"Urgh!" He crashes hard, the holy blade slipping free from Euryssa's chest.
Kerberon, drenched in sweat and desperation, wastes no time. Both palms thrust forward, spewing blazing fire toward the fallen general.
"Die…" he growls, as flames engulf Arcadia's last defender.
Oh, it hurts alright… Admetus thinks, Well… finally, I can rest.
The searing pain fades into darkness; his shattered body can no longer register it.
When the fire dies, only ash remains on the scorched earth—already blackened by the destruction of the three demons. No trace of the once-valiant general, save for his sword: burnt, blackened, and alone.
Kerberon turns back to his mistress.
"My lady, are you—"
She raises a hand, silencing him. Before his eyes, the wound in her chest closes, the bleeding halts, and the torn fabric mends itself—drying and erasing every trace of blood.
She stood frozen, lost in thought. Her pride—centuries in the making—lay shattered. In over a thousand years, never once had a mortal's blade pierced her flesh. Yet moments ago, she had been struck, not by some divine rival, but by a human. The fact alone twisted her mind into silent contemplation. Her gaze remained fixed on the scorched earth of Arcadia.
Kerberon said nothing. His attention shifted to a boy gripping the blackened blades of the guillotines meant to execute the gods of Eden. His expression darkened.
***
Daniil's fingers clenched tight around the dark blade, halting its fall inches above Zenobios' neck. The Elder God lay motionless beneath it. A mortal had just saved a god.
His eyes darted to the other two guillotines—both frozen mid-descent at the exact same instant. Pride swelled in his chest, a rare and almost foreign feeling. He looked down at the man he had just saved, though he didn't know his name or station. It didn't matter. His body had moved before his mind could reason; he simply could not bear to witness such cruelty.
"You're welcome, mister," he muttered to the unconscious man.
Then he looked back up—and froze.
A towering demon stood mere breaths away. Zir's hulking form loomed over him, almost five times his height.
"Feeling heroic, pest?" the demon rumbled.
Daniil's lone eye met the monster's—just in time to see a massive, burly arm swing down. The blow tore through his already broken body. It should have ended him instantly, yet he clung to the last shred of life.
Zir noticed. He reached for a large stone lying nearby, hefted it effortlessly, and hurled it toward the boy's head.
Oh God… Daniil thought bitterly—the same God he despised—before the rock smashed into him. Bone shattered, ribs collapsed, and his skull gave way under its weight. His upper body was reduced to ruin.
Two brave souls, gone in mere moments.
***
Zenobios had heard and seen everything, though his eyes remained closed. He bore witness to the final moments of two mortals who spent their last breaths trying to save strangers they had never known.
And it pleased him.
A faint smile curved his lips beneath the guillotine.
These blades could never take my head, he thought. Yet they leapt forward anyway, willing to die for me. Brave humanity.
No wonder the gods envy you.
"Now then…" he says, breaking the silence and cutting through the grim atmosphere.
The eyes of all three demons widen.
Euryssa stares at the guillotines. "That voice…!"
Zenobios opens his eyes slowly, lifting his gaze toward the three demons frozen in place. The guillotine restraining him splinters under his unchecked strength, shattering not only his frame but also those binding Areios and Athanasia. The cursed devices vanish, their remnants dissolving as Euryssa's spell breaks.
He rises to his feet. The dark clouds overhead part, revealing a clear blue sky. Sunlight floods the earth, washing over him. Zenobios' skin gleams; in the mortal realm, he is freed from the divine restraints that bind him in Eden.
He draws a deep breath. His face glows beneath the bright afternoon sun, the golden light making him appear truly divine.
Behind him, Areios and Athanasia stand ready.
Areios cracks his neck and loosens his shoulders, preparing for battle. Athanasia adjusts her hair and straightens her robe.
She calls to her husband standing ahead,
"Dear, what shall we do with these…" her gaze shifts to the huddled demons, her expression darkening, "…walking rots?"
The insult cuts deep. The demons can already imagine how this will end.
"Let's just erase them from existence," Areios says to his elder brother. "Not worth wasting time on filth."
Zenobios remains silent for a moment.
The towering swirl of dirt in the distance finally settles. Erastos, still astride his horse, is revealed beside the severed head of the Gaióthrauste—its death the work of a single, clean stroke. The three thousand warrior-gods stand unmoving, silent witnesses to the cruelty inflicted by the demons. They obeyed Erastos' orders, holding position until their superiors broke free from the demons' petty restraints.
Erastos rides toward the Orestes royal family, dismounts, and approaches Zenobios. He bows deeply.
"My lord, forgive me for failing to protect you back in Eden," the general of Eden's divine army says, head lowered before the Elder God.
Zenobios smiles faintly and places a hand on his shoulder.
"I appreciate the sentiment, my brother. However…" his eyes move to Keberon, Euryssa, and Zir—each frozen in terror, "…this was never your fault."
Erastos lifts his head. "I am grateful for your words, sire."
Zenobios pats his shoulder, his tone suddenly cold, all warmth gone.
"How best do you think we should erase these pitiful hellspawn?"
***
The endless stream of insults hurled at her and her servants makes her blood boil, though her body remains frozen—paralyzed by fear.
The gods have broken free… she thinks. Oh no…
The watch on her wrist buzzes, its alarm sharp against the tense air. She glances down. The clock has struck zero. Time to return to the demon realm.
She could open a portal and vanish before the gods strike.
But—
"There's no way I'm running," she mutters, low but firm. Pride roots her in place. She will not turn tail like a coward and crawl back to the castle. Not in front of her father. Not ever.
Her gaze locks on Zenobios and Erastos, their words chipping away at her name. The sting only sharpens her focus, reminding her of her true purpose.
"Divinity shall fall… the damned—SHALL RISE!"
The words start as a hiss and erupt into a defiant scream. All eyes turn to her. Even her own underlings stare, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend her audacity.
"You gods—always so certain you're above us. Who the hell decided that?!" she roars, grief and venom twisting her voice. "Why are we the ones rotting in hell? What did we do?!"
Her voice cracks, but she pushes harder, pointing at the divine figures before her.
"Who decided you're the righteous ones, and we…" her words drip with contempt, "…are always the monsters?"
Kerberon and Zir's shock hardens into tension; her words strike something deep within them. She presses on, her rage feeding itself.
"How just of you—to damn us for eternity before we even breathe our first breath! How fair to crown us evil incarnate when the moment we open our eyes—WE'RE ALREADY DROWNING IN ASHES AND FLAMES!"
Her body shakes. The hatred, the centuries of injustice, burn in her throat, straining to spill free. But even fury feels too small a vessel.
"You don't know how it feels!" she spits. "You call yourselves fair while you discriminate! You call it a test while you slaughter millions! You hide behind ideals while never once looking back at the lives you've ruined! You arrogant bastards! You worthless excuses for gods!"
Her face contorts into a grotesque smile, seething with fury and hatred.
"That's why we killed them—"
Zenobios listens intently, his gaze shifting to the two demons flanking her. They lock eyes with him, their stares dripping with venom, hatred burning in their depths.
"You favor one side and crush the other… Then you get what's coming to you."
She spreads her arms wide.
"You deserve this. YOU EARNED IT!"
The heavens hold their breath, while hell roars in triumph.