Chapter 13: Those Without Will(Part 4)
Argent looking on in much confusion, following behind her. Certainly they are a strange duo, but he welcomes such. After a long time of survival, it is feeling nice to simply have a pleasant moment.
“How long have you been here?” Cyra glancing back to Argent.
“A year...” Argent looking away.
A year of surviving in such conditions, it is reprehensible. Cyra may hold much resent for a certain event many years prior, but this is something a child should never experience. Valor as well can only wonder why such a thing happens, but not even he can provide an answer. Trying to rationalize the actions of another can drive one to insanity.
“Your parents, are they dead?” Valor positioning his arms in a thinking posture.
“Yeah...they killed them, and took me away...”
How cruel really, to not only witness the murder of one’s parents, but to suffer through this madness. Looking ahead, the child pointing to the direction where the captor will be. Cyra and Valor looking on in the direction, seeing a gate stretching far from left to right. No doubt a system in place to not only keep themselves safe, but to have the children in check. Standing still, Cyra extending her hand. Valor and Argent ceasing their movements, looking towards her. The god positioning his arms behind his head, Cyra glancing back to him. Both nodding in agreement towards the other.
Cyra walking towards the gate. Soon standing in front of it. Taking a moment to observe the defenses, the child feeling as if he needs to warn her. Danger no doubt, and one in which the child knows ever so well.
“Be-careful ma’am...” he warns.
The devil glancing back to him, taking his words into consideration. Looking ahead, the maiden extending her hand to the handle. A spark emitting, repelling her touch upon it. The expression of the maiden becoming slightly grim. This explaining why the children cannot escape, why they are eventually broken. To have the will of monsters.
“This is to keep us out,” Argent sternly grinning.
“Clever, but not clever enough,” she reaches her hand back, positioning it upon the hilt of her sword.
Valor shrugging, knowing all too well of what is to come. Such cannot be of any avoidance. As soon as the gate opens, no doubt an alarm will trigger. There is appearing to be only one option remaining, and that is to breakthrough.
“Children wouldn’t think to go in after a shock or two,” Valor folding his arms.
“Exactly,” Cyra agreeing.
Raising Lævateinn high, negative energy spiraling intensely around the weapon. The malevolence pulsating by the moment. The maiden strikes down upon the gate, unleashing the energy. The assault tearing through the gate, immediately loudly sounding an alarm. The negative attack ripping through the land, extending far and wide.
“Maybe I should have froze that gate...” Valor scratching the back of his head with his right hand.
“Perhaps so, but I want them to come. The time for judgment is at hand,” she calmly walks onward.
Judgment, normally these sorts of actions will involve a mass group to come to a decision, but not in such a case. There are certain levels, and only a fool will invoke such a wrath. While it is not normally her way to feel any sort of emotion towards an action of such. Something is driving her to meet this enemy.
“I gotta seriously remember to get you some anger management classes...” Valor folding his arms, following behind.
Argent following along in much confusion. This is definitely not the time for such, he can only wonder how they can be so casual. For certain these two are far from normal. Though, interesting in all reality.
Along the many floating platforms, many angels scattering around the area. Some suffering brutally beyond recognition. A bloodbath it is, staining the air in a sickening stench. The gods looking on, seeing the Tyrant standing before them. The eyes of the Tyrant are strict. Perhaps he has never been a good father, maybe even less so as a husband who failed to prevent a certain calamity years prior. Though, just this once, he will use his power to do something.
“To think you could make it this far. I am impressed,” tension expressing from Ares tone.
Alastor looking to his left to see Freya descending to his side, soon turning his attention to his right to see Chronos on the other end. The malevolence of the Tyrant intensifying, keeping them at bay. Facing towards the direction ahead, his eyes resting upon the god Ares.
“I am still a father first, and a demon second. Now I am going to be needing some answers,” he calmly speaks.
Answers, to think a devil will come so far. What is his true purpose for such? Since the demise of Reynas, he never concerns himself with the events from the worlds outside. So why now of all times? His role as a father first, perhaps just this once he is willing to step out of his shell once again.
“You mean why we are trying to initiate Ragnarok?” Freya questions.
“Precisely, now answer,” he impatiently glances to Freya.
Ragnarok, also known as the twilight of the gods. Truly a horrifying event to occur. Madness this is. In such a war, only one can benefit. Only the last one standing. The Tyrant knowing well of the previous occurrences, and none ever ending on a pleasant note for certain.
“Even if we tell you, you won’t be able to stop it. Specifically, our original goal was to cleanse the NetherWorld of its demons. Though, now it would seem that your daughter is of the only necessity to be purged,” Artemis explains.
“My daughter?” tension rising within him.
The Tyrant wondering why Cyra of all beings? Why her? It is making little sense. What has she done that warrants such? For years upon years she suffers, is it as he has always suspect? Is her life destined to eternally be in a state of conflict?
“How long do you intend to hide that abomination?” Odin glaring.
The Tyrant standing quiet, so they know of her birth. Such a thing in the older days, where Reynas wishes none to know of this. Everything beginning to align, why his daughter’s life is of such turmoil.
“Half devil, half deity. She stands as a threat to the stability of the Nine Worlds,” Odin calmly explaining.
The Tyrant taking a step forward, the malevolence burning even brighter from him. Anger extending greatly from his eyes. The gods keeping their focus on him. They feel the intensity of his pressure crushing down on them.
“You...you’re the reason why Reynas sacrificed herself, to save Cyra!” his voice harshly extending.
Freya glancing to Odin, wondering if such a thing is really true. Her eyes expressing some doubt. After all, now that she thinks about it. The birth of Cyra has been hidden from the gods knowledge. Though, Odin is appearing unusually fine with such details.
“All is for the balance of the Nine Worlds. I must admit though, I never really thought she would give up her own life to save a halfbreed. It was a regrettable loss, but in order to move the worlds forward, sacrifices are made,” Odin calmly speaks.
Freya looking on, seeing the rest of the gods with their unwavering resolve. Slightly looking down, the goddess beginning to wonder simply how many sacrifices are necessary. The goddess looking away, wishing that Valor will take his role with much more urgency. Ever since meeting that halfbreed, it is seeming as if he has been lost in an eternal abyss, continuously chasing after a dream. Trying to bring such a time back into reality. It is hard to say when he will return, or better yet, ‘if’ he will ever return. Alastor hanging his head low, frustration burning deep within him. The Tyrant thinking of Reynas, knowing well that she wishes for him to be reasonable, rather than irrational.
“Her fate has been set in stone from the very beginning. She is a cursed existence, one in which should never exist. Still, what drives her? I cannot even say for certain myself,” Chronos positioning his arms in a thinking posture.
Alastor turning from the gods, soon glancing to Freya, seeing the uncertainty in her eyes as she looks towards him. The demon nodding in her direction, soon turning his attention ahead. The goddess looking away, contemplating the morality of her actions. Wondering how far she will play this role, simply to save herself.
“Fate is a fool’s word. So long as one can breathe, they still hold their future within their hands,” Alastor placing his hand upon his waist.
The gods looking on, something is strange this time. Whatever pit the Tyrant has been in, he seems to have finally come out. Odin taking caution, carefully looking on. Yet another piece on the chessboard, and one in which has been off the field for many years until now.
“What are you going to do?” Odin questions.
“Change her supposed fate.”
Those words of the Tyrant taking the gods by some surprise. They look on, seeing Alastor walking away, witnessing a spell invoking. Crimson pentagrams rapidly surrounding him, and a blinding light extending. In an instant he is gone. The deities standing there, looking at the battlefield.
“He certainly made a mess of things here,” Chronos sighing, holding the side of his head.
“Do you think he will be able to do it?” Ares looking towards Odin.
“I cannot say for certain, but for now we continue with our plan,” Odin calmly states.
To continue on with the plan. Freya can only wonder how far Odin will go until he has his satisfaction. Tearing apart a family, taking the lives of the innocent, breaking the seals, all for what? To be an absolute god? This is madness she knows for certain, but there is seeming to be nothing that can be done about such.