Glor and his tribe continued towards them, the hunter god keenly aware of the promised land’s location. Malan didn’t know how, but after Glor’s surprise with artifacts, he was confident whatever method the Hunter was using, it was reliable.

Which meant an all or nothing battle was fast approaching, and he’d spent that week and a half it took Glor to reach them, readying his forces, and surprises of his own.

The god glyphs carved into the tunnels had been added to, their protectional strength a counter to Glor’s rock manipulation. This way he couldn’t just cave in the settlement, or dig his way into the bowels of the place and start slaughtering mortals. The latter was unlikely, given the type of fighting style Glor preferred, but there was no telling what the god would do once he was cornered and fading.

Malan also made more Stonemen, a name the mortals, even the simple-minded gods, had given to his rock constructs for the dead. They would be the second force used to distract Glor, joined with gods eager to test themselves against the Hunter.

The interest brought about because of the items he had made.

As Glor had done to Myock, Malan had repeated, with the god’s consent of course. Myock was more than happy to bring forth materials that would allow them to counter Glor’s armor, and his will against the land. It would certainly distract the Hunter even more, once he saw similar artifacts to his own. Hopefully it would give him quite the scare, and garner Glor’s full focus on the battle rather than his mortals.

It would only be compounded upon, given he’d made other Artifacts.

Joined with the artfully woven pieces of stone armor. He had also brought forth gloves made from rock, vines and leaves. The materials manifested from Forith, a nature god that had sway over plants. It allowed the wielder to turn the forest against their foe, causing vines and trees to warp and attack.

There were also shields made from the remains of Prost, his bones interwoven into rock and leather allowing other gods, or large mortals to use his ability to form protections and a strong defense. The same process had been done with Stron, though his bones and flesh had been used to make Axes of Malice and empowering strength.

Each of the gods going to face Glor would be armed with these tools, deities wielding the powers of multiple gods.

A thrilling and terrifying outcome.

Before, only Wonder could have achieved such a thing, but now with artifacts, conquering gods could gather the powers of others, broaden their own abilities. If Wargain have had access to this, he would have taken most of the realm, and Malan would have been helpless to stop him.

It would have even been too dangerous.

He’d yet to experiment, but the thought nagged at him. What wonders and miracles would be born from his corpse? What tools could be forged and used by others? He, Wonders oldest champion. Wargain would have hunted him endlessly, eager to know just as much as him and used his corpse to empower the war god’s growth.

‘This is their answer,’ Malan thought. ‘To give those simple or focused on being a supreme god, the tools, the diversity needed to face the Endbringers.’

The Celestials were trying to make the other ideologies able to match Wonder, to take away its uniqueness.

‘You’ve only strengthened it.’

Wonder had more tools now, and of the three ways of creation, he and it alone were the most skilled at using the corpses of gods.

‘And now the entities of this Savage age shall face the works of Wonder.’

-----------------------------

They are here, the hated prey dwelled not far from them. Yet he saw no signs of habitation, the forest was still thick, uncut and unremoved from the land, as those following the Watcher had come to desire.

No matter, they couldn’t hide, he would feel them out, prey wouldn’t and couldn’t hide from him. The Hunter had come to claim his prizes, and reteach the prey their place in the realm.

His children demanded it.

‘Make them fear us again.’ So many whispered into his ears. ‘Make the prey act like prey.’ Majority offered to him secretly. The victory over the Withered hadn’t been enough to appease the Children, fear still held them.

To fix this wrong, the source had to be put down, his corpse turned into a trophy all could look at and know. The Heon are the hunters, and these are their lands.

He thought of Prost, the tricky god always guiding its Kolune away from him, and now openly challenging he, the Hunter. The image of Prost strung up, his corpse cooking in the great sky light, made Glor ready to pounce forward, to smash the lands with his new gifts of might.

He didn’t though, the Watcher, the Predator would be here.

While Prost was disobedient prey that had to be reminded of his place. The Watcher was the real meddler in the lands, the source of all the change.

Glor doubted he would be able to get his hands on the thing of maddening eyes. It was permanently out of his reach, but not its workings, and Glor intended to undo everything that... thing had set out to make.

While his children settled in the land, cutting away portions of life so they could better spot the arrival of the Withered, Glor kept watch. He only moved out, Spear and Dagger singing their call for the hunt, when his children were safely together.

Children gathered their weapons, though afraid of the Withered, they would face the threat, show the realm they were the predators.

He stopped them. “This is my Hunt,” he said loudly into the air. “Wait for me to bring bounty.” Most felt relief, the chance to avoid their fears. A breath later the thoughts brought shame, and his children thought of refuting, or begging him to reconsider.

He kept his features firm, his stance unquestioning. The greatest of his children bowed their heads first, and the rest followed.

“Once these Prey gods are dealt with, all of you shall hunt the mortals.” They gave him weak smiles, their shame lessening.

Bending his legs, he leapt away, flying through the air, and swiftly coming upon the location that had his senses telling him he’d arrived. He entered into an open clearing; well-worn tracks had been stamped into the dirt. If not for his senses he would have thought the place recently abandoned, Prost’s kit running away again. But his senses remained centered here, the prey are here.

‘And if not on the surface,’ he thought looking downward. ‘Then they’re below.’

He focused on the armor he wore, the skin of a rock wolf. He compelled it to lend him its gift. It did, as all defeated prey do, Devotion left him, and together they willed to creation. Rock obeyed him, and he sent out a pulse of force aimed at the location his senses told him mortals hid.

The pulse traveled, its destruction assured.

It crashed against another power, and Glor felt himself lose control, his will rebuked.

Clicking his teeth, he moved to act again, pulling on his reserves he-

His ears twitched at the sound of air moving, he dodged to the side, avoiding an axe that came down and cracked the ground where he’d been standing.

He rolled, and springing to his paws, pointed his Spear at the prey.

He gazed upon a Kolune he’d never seen before, one with crimson fur and a confident pose. Its body type made it out to be an alpha, which was perfect. Defeating this overconfident male would cause the lesser to become meek and understand their mistake.

The Spear sang, he should attack, but Glor kept his ears raised and awareness broad. This wasn’t the first-time other gods had tried to surprise him, and he knew from the fight before. That there were more gods waiting for their chance.

That, and the longer he stared at the blood-colored god, the more his eyes were drawn to the items he had. The axe was familiar, it gave off a vibe of malice and the desire to rend him. The shield was to, it reminded him of Prost. Then there was the armor of stone, one that made Glor’s own look simple. It was full of patterns he didn’t understand and made in a way he equally couldn’t comprehend. It, and the other objects, made by something outside of his knowing.

He willed to the stone skin he wore, spent Devotion, and demanded the rock under the Kolune’s paws to thrust upward.

Another force, one that came from his foe, repulsed his intentions.

The god of red laughed. “None of that,” he pounded his chest. “Thaen, I opponent.” He then dashed forward, shield raised in defense and arm holding the axe primed to swing.

Glor hopped backward, not only to gain distance, but to lure in more of those coming for him.

They didn’t disappoint.

He heard the shift of air, and pivoted his body. The strike aimed for his center missed as he glanced to see an old foe. Stron, the one he’d faced twice before and easily bested both times. He too was equipped with a shield, axe and stone skin.

Spending Devotion, he enhanced his speed, quickly landing and rushing to thrust his Spear into the weakling, he dodged again, as another appeared to his right.

Prost.

Glor turned completely towards the disobedient prey.

They studied each other, and like the other two, Prost had the same tools.

Eyes glancing about, he noted the three moving as one, trying to encircle him. He jumped, rising high into the air, moving Devotion into his Spear, he readied to unleash its power. The sound of rushed movement broke his concentration, he spun about, avoiding a.. Root from puncturing his chest, it didn’t stop though, and nor was it alone.

To quickly to avoid, it wrapped around his ankle, as more came rushing up from the forest floor to stab at him.

He called upon the power infused into his tool of hunting, his Spear glowed brighter, and the wind answered his command.

It cut apart the offending roots, freeing him. Spending Devotion, he dived down, gathering power as he went, and smashed into the rock with his weapon. The ground rippled and shattered under the force. But three others answered back, and the ground leveled out.

More roots came for him, same with the gods.

His form blurred and spun and dodged as attacks came from every angle. More and more he filled his form with Devotion, increasing his speed and strength, and as the seconds passed, he finally saw the fourth adversary. Kolune in shape, but made of roots, grass, leaves and vines. It too was equipped with the same tools as the other three.

‘How?’

Where could they had gotten all the god corpses from, and made so many items. It had taken everything he had to master the power of the slain, and form them into objects of use.

He knew the answer when he glanced upon the Watcher. A foreign thing in all aspects, with eyes of piercing light. In the depths of those, he saw chaos, and madness. A thing that had to be kept away from his children, less its touch take them, consume them, and turn them into unknowing and lost kin.

He filled his form with Devotion and the will to end this growing threat. The movements of his prey became slower to his awareness as his speed increased.

He went on the attack, empowering his Spear, its light and strength a force to break others.

He went after the plant Kolune first, he and Spear rushing through the air to pierce the foe. Godly works got in the way, shields of light manifested in front, slowing his approach, and allowing the target to dash away. He landed, spinning on his paws, and trying again, he stopped, jumped, as the ground filled with vines. Using the gift of air, he moved his form around, dodging roots, and sending out torrents of biting wind to off balance his prey.

However, all four warped stone, shielded themselves, and tried to box him in with rock and plants. He increased the force of his attacks, spending Devotion without care. There was no turning back, the prey had to be reminded of their place, this defiance crushed. He couldn’t let the order of nature be shifted; his children turned into prey.

“I am the Hunter.” He shouted over the screams of his violent winds. “You all shall remember what that means.”

-------------------------

‘Glor’s committed himself,’ Malan sent to Foy. ‘Proceed with your part, I’m starting mine.’

He got gleeful laughter in response.

He moved his awareness away from the fight of gods, and to his assembly of Stonemen. A hundred strong, a small force in the past, but now a terrifying army to the lands made up of tribes.

Each was possessed by a soul waiting for the command to enact vengeance. More than half hadn’t actually been slain by Glor’s children, they died further north, to Irame, but Heon were Heon to their eyes.

‘It’s time,’ he sent to them, and the Stonemen pulsed with energy. The ground shifted as paths for them to the surface were opened. They surged out, ground shaking from the impact of so many stone paws.

It was a stampede as they charged onto the surface, smashing through the forest and flattening most plant life in their way as they headed in a straight line towards the encampment of Glor’s Heon.

Immortal and powered with stores of Devotion, it only took them a handful of minutes to crash through into the areas the invaders dwelled. Long before they had arrived, Heon had turned as one to the sound of the approaching army. When it came into view their eyes went wide. The area filled with shouts and screams as the mortals rushed to meet the charging force.

From the shard watching the fight of gods, he saw Glor momentarily freeze, head snapping to look in the direction of his people. The other gods noticed, and gave Glor no chance to flee. The forest itself turned towards Glor, ready to block his retreat. The Heon hissed, more power surging into his form, and attacked with blinding speeds. Thanks to Prost’s precognition, everyone always knew where to be to avoid the worst Glor had to unleash. It kept the god in check as the four with artifacts kept the Hunter distracted.

Back at the encampment, Stonemen almost upon the Heon, were met by shards of Glor. The Shards crashed into the rock tide, knocking some Stonemen away, but the tide of stone swept past, the dead focused only on the living.

Bravely, the Heon stayed in their defensive lines, spears pointed towards the threat. And bravely they were crushed as the forced slammed into them. Stonemen stomped, clawed and punched. They ripped the living apart, only those blest with divine strength were able to hold for a few moments before their flesh tired, and they were overwhelmed by multiple foes of rock.

Still, the Heon didn’t waver, they fought desperately, calling out Glor’s name, pleading for his strength. Each and every one of them received it. The advance of his creations slowed as Glor filled his kin with more and more Devotion, to the point it became lethal.

Muscles became too bulged, and mortal frames to filled with a force their weak vessels couldn’t contain. Bones snapped, and organs ruptured. He saw Glor swiftly reduce the amount of Devotion he was giving out, but the damage was done.

Stonemen took advantage of the mistake, killing more Heon and pushing deeper into the camp. Younger males came to meet the threat, those barely able to be called adults. And behind them were more youth, teens.

Every male with some semblance of fighting ability headed to meet the threat. As this happened more shards of Glor appeared, shattering Stonemen into pieces and releasing the Souls within.

Souls still interested in fighting. They manifested as Vengeful, and continued their assault on the living.

Between the fight with gods, and his followers being threatened, Malan was sure Glor was sufficiently distracted, and unprepared for the real attack.

There were many gods championing Wonder now, so many Artifacts that could be made. But the most useful, and he knew would earn a hushed reputation, came from the God simply named Shadow. The dark was its domain, the area shielded from the light and where all sorts of things could be hidden within.

From the corpse of that god, had come tendrils of night that he’d woven into cloaks. Cloaks that made the wearer undetectable, and unseeable when in the depths of shadows.

Glor would never see them coming, but Malan did, since he could sense them out.

Vengeful, wrapped tight within the cloaks of a god; carried with them a second, and most deadly gift from a god of poisons.

They arrived on the other side of the battle taking place, the camp there calm, and with everyone focused in the direction of the conflict with the Stonemen.

The Shaded Vengeful went unnoticed, given the entire camp was hidden under the forest canopy, the shadows deep enough that they blended into the background. Focusing, he could see them, but his eyes were superior to most gods, and he knew to be looking for them. Glor, distracted as he is, wasn’t doing either, and so remained oblivious to their intrusion into his camp.

Shades spread out, but reframed from going to deep into the camp, none of them knew whether Glor would notice them entering his domain, so they didn’t risk it. Instead, Shades moved to the outskirts of the area, and made ready to throw the contents they held.

Malan looked back at the shard watching the fight with the Stonemen, a quarter already destroyed, and the pace quickening. Glor wasn’t holding back, he was spending his stores of Devotion without a single thought, or care of the future. He was aimed at ending them now, given he was smart enough to know allowing them time to grow would mean his end anyways.

‘It’s too late for that Glor,’ he thought as he watched more Vengeful manifest into creation. ‘Wonder is ever renewing, ever growing, we can heal from any blow.’ The same was not true for the Hunter, he was a god of one, and while the artifacts had increased his abilities beyond the norm. They didn’t provide the type of skills he truly needed to survive the trials of creation.

‘You’re a Hunter, not a Healer.’ And given enough time, even the smallest of wounds added up, and eventually brought down mighty foes.

But right now, Shades in place and given the order to act. ‘This is not going to be a small wound.’

Vials were opened around women and young. To the inner sanctum where Shades dare not tread, they were thrown in, the glass shattering on impact and gaining the attention of those within. Heon froze, eyes searching and expecting the roars of battle.

They received only silence, while unnoticed Shades carefully walked about, spreading the Rage-air evenly about the place.

‘And so you have lost Glor, the same way all fail when tested by Wonder.’ Eventually one of its tricks worked, and the opposition would lack the means to counter it.

‘Such is the price of ignorance.’

For minutes the Shades spread the poison, all the while the Stonemen kept the males and Glor preoccupied. It was the same for the main manifestation of Glor, fighting other gods, but the latter was costing them a great deal of Devotion. Even with the Kolune underground praying together, they were still suffering a deficit.

‘No matter,’ the work was done, victory achieved, all that was left was to lessen the collateral damage of Glor’s fall.

The concoction Foy had made, was more potent than the stuff used on Wargain, since there hadn’t been a need to be overly subtle given the size of the population. As such, the mixture within the air began to take effect.

The masses of women, and those he ignored, became increasingly irritated by the sounds of battle. He could see it on their faces, the anger, and soon to be rage. Women, even those pregnant, began to rise. To pace about and talk with each other with increasingly raised voices.

“We should go help,” many spoke out. “Why are we waiting here doing nothing?” Others questioned. A swift consensus was made, a foolish choice acted upon. The village of protected women and others, moved as one, claws bared, and short muzzles creasing back.

The Shades retreated, leaving the encampment without once being noticed. With them gone he lost his eyesight, and had to switched back to the version of himself personally watching the Stonemen fight.

Only a quarter remained, the rest shattered to pieces by Glor’s shards. Still the Stonemen had killed many of the Hunters children, who at the command of their god, had retreated back, but now were being pressed forward.

“Away.” Shards of Glor shouted to the advancing tide of his confused kin.

They didn’t listen to him, couldn’t, the women were pushing their males forward, trying to get passed them to join the fight. And the defenders in turn refused to let this happened so they kept advancing towards the Stonemen.

Glors hissed, smashing away constructs and Vengeful trying to reach the closing mortals.

“You defy me?” Glor shouted, the words sounding more hurt than enraged.

The males voiced their troubles, what the women were trying to do. All clueless to the air spreading around them, clinging to them and entering their lungs.

“Have you women and young gone mad, turn back, your Protector has this handled.” Glor said urgently, but the words were ignored by the pressing tide.

“We can take them!” The infected shouted back, and grew increasingly annoyed with the males blocking their path. More and more they became unkind with their methods to get passed. Some began to claw at the males, getting shocked and startled responses out of them.

Malan fed more Devotion into the constructs, and dead, empowering them as they rushed to meet the crowd.

Glors let out their battle cries, blocking and fighting back most, but some got through and crashed into the tide of flesh.

“Get them.” Women shouted eagerly, clawed hands reaching out, thinking they would rend rock.

Stonemen and Vengeful acted, with swipes of stone and miracle might, they sliced through the crowds of flesh. Crushing and pulverizing those in reach.

None of it bothered the women, didn’t bring clarity, they charged, tried clinging to and biting into rock. The act only caused their pointed teeth to shatter in turn, not that they noticed. The Rage-air had them, and they fought the constructs and ghosts with unstrained fury.

Malan’s forces began ripping them apart, until more shards of Glor appeared, and began decimating the Kolune.

“Save some for us,” women and others yelled.

Shards of Glor looked at his people baffled, then horrified as the infected became more taken by the poison.

“There’s more of them!” A mortal woman said, before clawing at her neighbors. The act started a chain reaction, the mortals once unified in facing their common foes, turned on one another. All believing in their deranged state, that they were fighting against Stonemen and Vengeful.

“Stop!” Screamed the shards of Glor, his words ignored, even as he repeated them and summoned more avatars. They were thinner, their forms semi-transparent. But they still had divine strength, and these new shards tried to separate the mortals. To end the bloodshed that was already taking lives.

All attempts only caused the infected to turn their attention on Glor. Heon bit and slashed at the forms of their god, the Rage-air removing their sanity.

“They’re everywhere,” mortals screamed, their eyes going wide from the touches of rage and fear.

It quickly descended into madness after that, the tribe turning on itself, and Glor shouting urgently at them to stop, while he tried to understand what was going on.

Malan watched the best he could, but in many places, there were scenes he refused to acknowledge.

He focused on the broad picture, so the details blended together and he could take note of the state of things.

The whole tribe was in turmoil, all infected by Foy’s poison, it was over, Glor was finished, he just hadn’t noticed it yet.

But looking at his forms, the truth was slowly dawning on him. The mortals were killing each other quite enthusiastically, corpses were piling up and the Devotion filled blood poured into the land.

Even death didn’t free them from their battle lust. The dead continued to fight in the Glen, with only the first killed beginning to wake from the stupor that had taken them.

A mental command from him, had his forces retreating. Their purpose had been fulfilled, the Heon didn’t need any help ending themselves.

Those shards of Glor fighting with the Stonemen and Vengeful let them leave, making no attempt to follow as those avatars swiftly turned to the raging mob and tried to keep mortals away from each other.

It was pointless, either the mortals would kill each other, or the poison would, some were already beginning to fall over, their hearts giving out from the strain of overwhelming emotions.

Versions of Glor pulled at their ears, watching everything taking place in a state of shock.

The reflections of Glor mumbling: “What is going on?” That is, till one of the shards turned to face him, their eyes meeting, the shock died, and what came forth was hate and unbridled detestment.

“What did you do?” Glor screamed at him, the shard charging towards his location, weapon in hand, his intention obvious to behold.

Glor passed right through him as the god attempted repeatedly to land a blow on a apparition. He kept screaming the question, but Malan gave no answer, no enlightenment. He kept his eyes trained on the sight, counting down the loss of life, of followers. Patiently waiting for the moment Glor was followerless and all alone.

Glor didn’t take his silence well, the god kept trying to reach him, wasting more Devotion to empower attacks that would never make contact.

For minutes this went on, till the god stopped, tears in his eyes.

“Tell me,” the god whispered.

Malan said nothing, he didn’t even acknowledge the other, even though he wanted to, desired to inform Glor of the Wonders made, and that all of it was thanks to him.

Malan kept his tongue firmly pinned under his teeth.

Glor fell to his knees, softly crying.

He couldn’t fault the Hunter for that, it was almost over, the tribe of hundreds was now a scene of death. Corpses everywhere, and the land filled with Devotion waiting to be claimed. It was joined with the other shards of the Hunter, all standing about, looking at the sight numbly.

Malan prepared their stores of Devotion for what was to come, when Glor had nothing left to lose, and would focus his remaining might to perform an act of vengeance.

Yet when the last of his followers died, the tribe of Glor dead, Malan blinked, and found the avatars of Glor crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

He looked around, then shifted his awareness back to the fight with gods. They too were looking at each other, Glor was still, his Spear no longer glowing, same with the Dagger.

None approached, thinking it a trap, but Forith sent out his roots.

All expected Glor to dodge, to stop his ploy of being dead.

The roots shot up and speared through the god corpse, the act not even invoking spasms. It hanged their limp, leaving the rest of them to stare and then turn their eyes his way.

“All his followers are dead,” Malan said to them. “It appears that was enough to end Glor.”

But why?

Myock had remained after his people were killed, and never once showed any signs of fading.

“It’s over?” Prost asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “The Hunter is gone.”

The words caused Prost’s shoulders to sag, and a long relieving sigh to escape his maw.

“It’s over,” the fatherly god voiced to the realm, and chuckled. “It’s over.”

Stron moved over and patted Prost on the shoulder, his face wide with glee. “Hunter Dead,” the god of struggle spoke nodding his head happily.

Thaen, god of improvement and testing, approached the corpse, axe and shield still in a ready stance, but even his form had begun to relax. “What now?” The overly muscled and defined deity asked.

“The Kolune flourish, Wonder spreads, and we prepare for the next avatar of destruction.”

It wouldn’t be too long before other tribes migrated into the lands now vacant of Glor’s influence. This local area of Heon had been dealt with, but almost everywhere else they continued to take the realm, and strengthen their misaligned gods.

“But before all that,” Malan added, approaching the corpse himself. “We have a celebration, a day of merriment that mortals will look back on and honor yearly.” Mortals loved their holidays, the reliving of deeds and the comfort that monsters could, and had been put down.

Thaen laughed, and rose his axe in triumph. “A feast,” the god proclaimed, and soon followed with Stron.

“A feast,” Prost added, a serene look on his face.

-----------------------

While word spread of their victory, the mortals entering into a state of exhilaration. Malan guided the work of collecting corpses. Stonemen carried away Glor’s avatars, following his mental commands, while he sucked the land dry of the spilled Devotion. He would need it for the task ahead of him.

The moment the battle was over, and Glor showed to be truly dead. Malan manifested into the realm, and began to conduct miracles openly.

His first act was to encase the tribe of contaminated Heon in a transparent dome. It stopped the poison from spreading further out. His next act caused Stonemen working in the area to flinch back.

Inside the dome the air ignited and a destructive blaze consumed all within.

A scoff sounded by his side, a look showed it to be Foy, this time in the appearance of a Kolune. “Destroying my work, for shame.” She said, while still residing within the Glen.

Malan placed a hand over his chest, showed her a pleading look, while he increased the intensity of the blaze. ‘Forgive me,’ he sent to her, earning a smile.

“This once,” she said standing next to him, her new appearance making her taller than him.

‘We could do this to all our enemies.’ She sent. ‘I’ve yet to find anyone with even a spit of understanding of my craft, or Rimean’s.’ She sent visions to him, her poisons spreading outward and clearing the lands full of tribes. Then the crumbling of gods who’d lost all their followers.

It was a prophecy, foretelling a way to avoid conflict, prevent wars, and end troublesome souls with a force they couldn’t see, or hope to understand.

‘Don’t worry Foy,’ Malan sent back. ‘Your craft will be used frequently.’ The results couldn’t be refuted, Glor was undone in the span of half an hour. A god that was the threat to so many, a force most ran from, was now dead.

‘But it must remain our hidden blade, that way none will conceive a means to stop it.’

Foy laughed. ‘Let them try, if Lisoe struggled to contain my works, then these... people will discover only despair trying to undo my art.’

‘And I want to keep it that way, get mortals to fearful, and they might end up making a god specifically designed to counter you.’

Another balance in the game, while creation often hindered advancement, it also lended aid, helped guide those aligned with it and their perspective natures.

He sent those thoughts to Foy, none of which bothered her. ‘Plays right into our hands, let them become adapted to me, another Wonder will just appear to confound them.’ Her words conveyed images of Derrin, a god of tomes and arcane.

The sight of the lands filling with such works, even if destructive, still put a smile on his face. ‘Wonderous as that would be, such things are costly, but maybe once we have a few thousand praying to us, we can then think of such open displays of might.’

‘If that’s the case, it won’t be that long.’ She replied as his flames died down, the land within the dome turned charcoal. ‘Thanks to your fixings, and farming, my lovely Heon are blooming, in a few years the crater will be too small for them all to dwell within.’

Her mind thinking in terms of the crater remaining a plain open pit. He sent her a correcting vision, of the growing and soaring heights of Aronta, the sight of gold, stone, and Wonder. Such a place would not be hindered by a few thousand.

‘Fine, a dwelling with wide farming land,’ Foy replied back.

‘Well, that can be arranged to,’ he sent. ‘Though not as easily.’

He already had ideas, most of which came from his early days of existence, back when he was a divine mortal. The first Aronta, the one built by his father, had all sorts of open gardens contained within stone and housed high up in lofty towers.

Foy rolled her eyes, and a silence fell over them, not long, never long. Foy preferred chatting whenever possible.

‘I kinda miss them,’ she sent, the words woven with a deeper meaning.

The Orders.

‘They kept things interesting, and we all had our grudges,’ she continued. ‘And for all their faults, at least they had a nice-ish society.’ Foy showed him the sights her shards witnessed, the endless scenes of barbaric people, with their simple ways and nonexistent understanding of the realm.

‘We won,’ she added, gazing at the dome. ‘But it doesn’t feel, impactful. Its lacking,’ she tilted her head. ‘And unsatisfying.’

‘Glor is, and was, a stepping stone.’ Malan sent back. ‘Most of them will be, none have what it takes to last and become something to respect, even in a disliked fashion.’

Most wouldn’t even exist for a year, with how events were flowing.

‘Is it odd that I want someone to hate, to best?’ Foy asked him.

‘No,’ he replied. ‘At least not for us.’ Gods were different, they felt creation in ways mortals couldn’t. To triumph over others, for one’s belief to take the land, that was part of being a god, given all of them were aspects of an idea.

‘We’ll have those we hate in time,’ he sent. ‘Its chaos now, but order will show itself in the decades to come.’ No matter how he despised it, civilization birth the other ideology to, such places were fertile ground for it.

Foy sighed. ‘Good,’ she waved at his work, the dome coming apart, it’s purpose at an end. ‘Because if it stays like this, I’ll start to get bored.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s really empty ending someone that you don’t have any feelings for.’

Malan hummed in understanding. ‘I guess I miss them in a way to.’ He sent, recalling Wargain, and Cycure, their looks of rage and defeat when he finally bested them, the high from the moment, the rush.

He gazed at his work, the land burnt and the ghosts lingering in the Glen, lost and confused on what to do next.

It wasn’t the same. ‘Nor should it,’ he thought, such moments had to be special, Glor wasn’t.

So he looked at the blue sky, the stars ever visible. ‘But they are.’

He wondered, savored the thought, the rush, that he would feel when he bested the Endbringers.