The Upper Realm, Present day

Zaros shifted uncomfortable on the Pegasus’ chariot, despite any previous claims, travelling with a speeding Pegasus, thousands of meters in the air of Upper Heaven, far above solid ground where Zaros belonged.

Staring out the barred opening of the golden chariot, he could see, in betwixt massive clouds of grey, was the Fortress of Solice, a golden sprawling mass of perfect architecture, towers and arches reaching to the sun itself, the clouds obscuring its most intricate structures from the eyes of enemies. Solice was a complete contrast to his father, despite being brothers, a younger, more reckless and ruthless God who did not adhere to the laws of the Order of Divinity; not that he was tempted by the forces of darkness from the Order of Chaos, but rather lived in stubbornness.

Perhaps that is why he was able to defy Valnaar.

But the jolting of the carriage as a rift of wind bombarded into the carriage drifted him from thinking of the Sun Army, and instead to the stretch of floating debris that stretched beyond the eye could see, Zaros’ eyes, the Belt of Dread. Towards the centre somewhere, far from here was the centre, the remnants of the Chains of Prosperity.

Yes, the Chains of Prosperity had shattered, and Zaros was there to witness it. He nearly died that day; the day he discovered God’s and the sons of Gods could die. That they were in fact mortal; ever since corruption had gathered, and the damned, greedy immortals decided it was their right to delve into the machinations of the mortal realm. His stomach churned at the thought of it; a sordid, dirty flame that smouldered within him. It was not at the sight of the chain that linked; protected the two realms, or the shattering damage it wreaked across the realm, causing inter-realm ruptures, destroying entire cities, killing thousands of lower Divine creatures. It was the fact that out of all the Lords of Divinity, the one who had rushed first, in the midst of battle, was Lord Daidric. The God of pestilence, of death, was the first and only to reach for the snapping chains. And this is when Valnaar had stabbed him, in the back. He had stabbed him in the back, with a blade forged from holy crystal, sending him into a spiral of mental abyss- it had corrupted him, and in turn the chains shattered, splitting the two realms, and destroying the only defence preventing pathway between the two to lesser beings.

Perhaps Daidric would’ve been spared, if they had not discovered his generals had released the hordes of Hell Mynths into the mortal realm, in a bid to take over. Yet, Zaros knew, from his father the knowledge gatherer, that Daidric had not ordered such heresy- he had attempted to prevent the severing of the two realties, so why would he wage war on the mortals? Zaros was the only one who knew of this conspiracy; that the wide-spread hatred, and the eventual death of Adonis Daidric was one which sat on a throne of fabricated lies and deception. That Lord Daidric was not the evil monster that his soon to be wife, Alecias was made to believe by her father and companions.

He was not surprised the God of Hell harboured so much hatred when he was banished.

That still left why his Generals would betray Daidric; his inquiries would land him nowhere, no one would believe Zaros, that the banished God made Lord was not in fact malicious. And it was not in his interest to preserve the legacy of the wronged God. He was here to stop any further damage that would occur at the hands of his incompetent and sinful brothers, and the negligence of his father, Hilopsicron.

The entire chariot cabin rocked and swayed, as the Pegasus upfront whined; no not a whine, a sort of screech, distraught and pain-filled. The chariot, that was travelling at speeds fast enough to rival Solice’s War Hyenas at full bound. Silence struck next, a bridge between tranquillity and chaos, an eerie void of nothingness, all of Zaros’ senses in that very moment nullified. The light that bled into the barred openings of the golden plated sides had vanished, a darkness that consumed the entirety of the space around him.

Zaros’ eyes opened in shock. Just as the carriage imploded, he clenched his fist, allowing pure energy to bolt down from his nape, sparking throughout his arm, and bursting out through the gaps in his fist. The explosion shook the entire world around him, as he spiralled away, the explosion emanating from his hand countering the immense warped detonation which evaporated the Pegasus, carriage, and nearby floating remnants.

As Zaros stabilised himself, tumbling back in the air, he saw the immense mushroom cloud which had rocketed hundreds of meters high up. Floating in the air, wind magic pulsating from his soles subconsciously, Zaros snarled, eyes scanning the horizon, the only building nearby, the floating outer guard post at least a few kilometres down. No troops or immediate threats came from it. But a force rippled amongst the closest space around him.

The pathways bridging the various kingdoms of Upper Heaven were connected by slipstreams of not only condensed magic, but also high speed winds, winds that exceeded even Stormlok’s typhoons. Zaros orbited the slipstream of wind, making sure not to enter otherwise face being propelled uncontrollably quickly.

“Cowards hide under the guise of cloaking,” Zaros called out, a sharp look across his face.

But cowards live longer, something he didn’t want to mention.

The enemy didn’t respond. And then a repulsion of energy, an invisible shockwave of propelling energy that smashed into Zaros. But now he had risen a hand, and as the shockwave came to him, he responded with a blast of coned air, a similar speed, which cancelled out both.

“Your elemental magic is weak, coward. Come at me with something worth remembering,” he growled.

The thing rippled, like an omnipresent being around him. What was it?

Suddenly, another flash of light, and the sound escaped from the world.

Shit.

The light warped, shrunk inwards and then expanded outwards, shattering forth, bringing with it black power that cracked the air around him. It exploded into Zaros, who barely had enough time to manifest his weapon, the dual bladed Zex weapon. It formed, fragment by fragment, a chain forming round his waist, the two ends of the chain with wicked chunks of crystallised white-silver blades, curved and 3 feet long. Although he was propelled backwards, pain rocketing through his body, he had managed to whip round one end of the blade, slicing it into the voided darkness, dispersing the most powerful amounts of it.

Zaros flew back into massive boulder, free from it’s local belt which was somewhere far behind his back. Standing up, he craned his neck 90 degrees upwards, staring at the invisible entity.

“You’re a Voidstalker,” he grimaced.

The thing bubbled. Only one used Voidstalkers; his father.

“Come from the Void, scavenger of the night. Fight me in your physical form, I have no intention of exorcising a Phantom.”

The thing said nothing, and then contorted, a rip in the fabric of space. Black lightening crackled, like his father’s, and from the tear, a warped figure emerged, not quite whole, but not quite absent. The creature grinned, rows of teeth like jagged bolts of lightning, eyes red hot coals of burning ember, skin constantly twisting, churning, crackling. The entirety of its wicked presence was corrupted and not quite present.

It gurgled something in Otherkin, sounded like the scraping of rusted metal against chainmail melded to rotting flesh.

Suddenly it warped forward, not even flying, and was in front of Zaros immediately, it’s bulging eyes filled with the excitement and exhilaration of death. It’s raised hand swiped down, claws extended. Zaros backpedalled, changing the trajectories of the wind jettisoning from below him, and lifted the flat of his right blade, the claws bouncing off. A shockwave rocketed off, and Zaros head snapped back from whiplash, and the Voidstalker’s entire body split for a second, before re-joining. The Voidstalker hissed, and swiped its left leg around, aiming for Zaros’ abdomen, but Zaros had flipped over, stopping behind the Stalker before slamming the blade into the beast’s back.

It slid right through of course and the creature’s torso snapped round, 180 degrees, and its two warped hands grabbed Zaros’ shoulder, and its mouth opened snapping for his face. Zaros snapped his head back, massive teeth nearly ripping his face off. Struggling, he realised it was worthless, a Phantom’s grip was impossible to break out of if it had still had parts of its physical body connected to the spiritual one. It was like punching air.

Zaros gritted his teeth, staring at the snapping beast, and took action. “Be Gone,” he whispered, and he could feel the burning of the spell on the tip of his tongue, as the charm activated and an invisible forced flew out his mouth, evaporating the Stalker, spreading it’s remnants across the nearest part of the sky. However, it was short lived, when the black dust had gathered suddenly twirling and twisting like a tornado, and warped behind Zaros, a whole arm formed already by the time it had teleported. It struck out, but Zaros’ twisted his arm around, the Voidstalker’s claws once again smashing into the blade. Zaros shot forward, stunning it for a while, before twisting. He smirked, his eyes gleaming, and allowed the energy from his body to fill the chains. Slowly they turned indigo red, as if they were melting, and the burning ashes eventually spread to the blades.

The creature’s head twisted at that and then immediately realisation must’ve filled its primitive brain. Zaros’ eyes had stained a sundering red, fiery flames rippling across his body. They lapped up, bringing with them thousands of embers that radiated off the skin of his arms, which had now dyed a deep crimson. The chains burned in his hands, and he unwrapped the chains round his waist.

A savage look across the thing’s face, it smiled in recognition, and opened its crooked mouth, “Die.”

Holding the blades in both hands connected by the glowing chain, he stared to spin the right one, slow at first, then building up speed, eventually reaching a stage where its perpetual movement was invisible, and a resonating hum escaped from it.

The Voidstalker’s palm hummed with energy, before a floating black orb of electricity had formed. It threw it, a tremor exploding from its arm as it threw it, far too quick to see. The entire sky shook as the orb bolted towards Zaros, a shockwave erupting from behind it, dispersing nearby clouds. Zaros’ hands tightened on the grip of the chain, and allowing the orb to come close, he suddenly flicked the chain, only slightly, and the blade veered into the path of the orb, slicing it clean in half, shaking his entire body, feet sinking a couple inches into the massive boulder which had now harboured wide splitting branches of cracks.

The stalker formed two more orbs and threw them both, again lightening crackling in the trajectory. Zaros, had to sidestep, allowing the first to enter the boulder and explode it completely, large chunks of debris flying everywhere. Zaros had already pushed off the boulder, shooting forwards, spinning the left blade in a shield formation in front of him. When the second orb collided it dispersed, black lightening shooting off everywhere, sending jaunting vibrations down his forearms.

The Voidstalker grinned, and warped above him, slamming down with an arched foot, which Zaros promptly twisted out the way of, and returned with the extension of the blade, letting go of the right side of the chain. It shot forwards but the Voidstalker vanished, and reappeared behind Zaros.

Ducking, and twisting round, Zaros swiped with the right blade, successfully slashing at the beast’s shoulder. It backed off, black mist floating off the wound, claws clutching it, mouth hissing.

“You are not invincible,” Zaros warned.

Suddenly the Voidstalker’s hands started to vibrate, before contorting, then stretching out, like shooting waterfalls. They sprawled outwards, and the arms, now tens of meters long, the stalker smashed both, as if to clap, towards Zaros.

A black mist whipped round, like a lashing whip, a third limb, smashing into Zaros from above, a crashing pain rocketing downwards into his body.

His weapon, Zex had tumbled down, clattering from rock to rock, down through the clouds swirling below. It shot down out of sight as quick as the whip had crashed down on him. Zaros’ eyes slid onto the Voidstalker whose hands rushed towards him, far too large now to avoid.

Time seemed to slow, as those two gargantuan clawed hands sprung towards him, to slice him into ribbons. The height of the arms alone was now a couple hundred meters, two onyx black walls closing in. By the time Zaros would’ve moved, those colossi would’ve squished him, desecrating his body.

Zaros clenched his eyes shut, and whispered under his breath. The signias across his arm alit again, burning red, eyes glowing a soft ember, reimbursing with energy. The Voidstalker caught sight of this and hissed, massive arms retracting quickly, springing down in size, although still considerably large.

Something roared, deep down below, like it emanated from the mortal realm, seeping into Upper Heaven. And then the clouds below split, a massive arching crack coursing throughout the massive misty formation, dissipating the air. A massively long chain, stretching far too long to be Zex, erupted from the rupture, its chain trailing far down, hundreds, thousands of meters long. Silver chain now tinted a blazing chromatic white, bleeding out pure, explosive light. The Voidstalker roared, hands retracting to cover its eyes, but the light had already burst out, enveloping the entire surrounding area.

The sky darkened, the sun wretched out of its bed, sizzling white flares rocketing everywhere. The massive chain, led by a blade moving faster than could be seen, smashed into the Voidstalker, who couldn’t even sense its direction. It penetrated clean through the thing’s chest, continuing through, and then by itself, whipping right round, again cutting into it’s shoulders, wringing round, contorting, roughly throwing the Voidstalker to the side, who spun out of control, hissing and rolling. Before it could recover the blade shot down, wrapping rounds its ankle, pulling up the beast, tipping it upside down, flicking it into a boulder which fractured into tiny fragments flying everywhere. The chain recoiled back, like a striking cobra, and shot forwards again embedding itself into the Stalker’s back, wringing it back round once again, and then cracking it’s entire length, the whiplash clearly raking the beast’s head out of alignment with its spine, which cracked out it’s back, a horridly contorted bone now. It’s head slumped forward, broken jaw hanging from misty black tendons. Right eye was clean out of its socket, misty residue floating out of the gaping wound. It lazily whipped its head round reaching out a hand.

By now the blade had spun round itself, dropping down, before looping and slicing up. Like the crackling of lightning, it propelled upwards, starting from the thing’s groin, it ran up, cleanly through, exiting through the top of its skull.

The sound of tearing, and two parts of the Stalker now floated from each other in perpetual silence. The bladed end of the chain turned around, like some animal and burst towards Zaros with red, angered energy bleeding from it. It moved twice as fast now, not even visible, just a screeching sound. But Zaros’ hand shot out, catching the blade with his two fingers, throwing it behind him, and the rest of the chain followed, rocketing from below the clouds. By the time it had nestled round his waist, it was its original size.

The red rage across his body had calmed now, but his eyes remained cold. The serpent acts of Zex was forbidden, and yet his foolish father had forced his hands.

*

“Hilopsicron…” he hissed, walking through the massive gates of his father’s palace.

Two guards stepped forwards, winged Alatus.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, both palms extended, smashing either into the sides of the wall, clouds of dust erupting, cracks lined across the trenches.

Dust bloomed from the crates that ruptured across their structures, and as troops rushed forwards through the massive archway in-between, even more cracks appeared. With his hands curled into fists, he brought them down, and the invisible tentacles wrapped round the columns, their circumferences crushed inwards, and toppled down. After crushing the half dozen men who had rushed out disappeared in debris.

Zaros’ fingers spread, and the hundred fragments flicked out everywhere, ricocheting off the nearby sandstone tinted walls. But as they clashed into the walls of the massive palace outer walls, something goldish flickered and the rocks evaporated.

“Enough with your foolish games, Hilopsicron; end it!” Zaros roared, arms spread out in anger.

The goldish field flickered, and the thundering of footsteps echoed across. Coursing out the archway, lines of shield-baring Alatus, spears poking through the collective shielding. Archers hovered above the outer-walls, stretching out, knocking arrows, at least fifty lined up ready to fire. Even more flew round the sides of either side, starting to circle him, a captain atop a Moltor wolf, a huge beast ridden with molten rock seeping off its huge shoulder blades which were more similar to stalagmites than flesh.

The captain, a senior Alatus, his wings more silver than gold, represented his age and wisdom. A spear in his hand, and the Moltor growling, lava spilling from its maw.

“You approach the God of Wisdom unsolicited?” He spewed the words with anger, a snarl across his face.

Zaros scoffed, a meticulous look flashing across his face, “I have come to challenge him on his heresy.”

The captain’s eyes widened at that, a slight adjustment to the Moltor’s reigns causing the beast to buck up, claws waving in the air. The troops around him shifted slightly, their formation kinking closer now, and the archers above starting to pull back, fear spreading across their faces.

“You are the mortals-made-immortal made to protect him as a guardian of the realm. But with his age he has grown stubborn. Move out of my way, or I will kill you.”

“Your insolence is similar to that of the exiled God.” The Captain remarked, making it clear he had no intention to move aside.

Zaros face contorted at that; being compared to Lord Daidric? Rage fluttered across his body.

The chain unwrapped from his waist, coiling up and then twirling up his arms, into his hands. The sigils across Zaros’ forearms alit, a blazing red, and then the chains started to glow chrome. He spun it in his left arm, a barely visible whirr now.

“I hope the vultures treat your corpse well,” he whispered.

*

“This is what you have brought?” Zaros asked, walking into the main throne room, huge banners spanned across stone-moss walls, decorated with spiralling columns of skulls. Up there on the elevated podium, with his throne was Hilopsicron.

Zaros threw the corpse of the captain across the floor, and in that silence his bloodied chestplate scraped across the tiled floor, leaving a trail of blood behind. The Alatus either side of Hilopsicron shifted back, their eyes flinching slightly, behind those golden helmets. There was no mark on Zaros apart from the splatters of golden blood. Zex laid in his hands, coiled lightly around his forearms, blades dangling down.

Hilopsicron did not move. He was huge, at least twelve feet, with the scales of blackened red across most of his body, thick, log-like limbs by his side. His claws, blacker than the pits of Hell, curled into light fists, and the immense curved horns atop his bald, scaled head fluttered with pulsating red. Rows of razor sharp teeth lined on his exo-skeletal jaw, and his eyes, reptilian slits of unreadable yet terrifying knowledge glowed in the slight darkness. He was not human, like Zaros’ mother, rather a Drakotaur, the offspring of a Wyvern’s immense knowledge and a Minotaur’s strength. Unlike Zaros, he was not born from the fusion of flesh, but the fusion of power.

Hilopsicron sat cross-legged, leaning back, eyes burning, literal flames in their sockets, deep magma bubbling behind those rows of teeth. His club laid on the throne’s armrest, and even though he wore massive chainmail armour, his Immortal armour was nearby.

Hilopsicron slowly looked down at the corpse of his captain, the fires in his eyes leading trails of smoke. And then he spoke,

“You bring to me the corpse of a soldier?” He leant forwards, hands propped up on the armrests, “You still know nothing, child,” magma spilled from his teeth, splashing to the floor. His voice was not calm or controlled like the voices of the other gods, not human, but sharp and reverberating. The walls around them shook with each word.

“I bring the fact that you fail to adhere to the advice of the Gods. My brothers are fools to involve themselves with the will of the mortals,” Zaros growled.

“Advice of the Gods?” Hilopsicron chuckled, throwing his head back. “You think the Gods care? They wanted this. They act like they do not care; like they did not accept Daidric’s judgment, but they urn for control over their creations. Your brothers provide security to our realm.”

“Security? They have integrated themselves into the human society, as Magates. They rule with false promises and ludicrous power; they corrupt their followers.”

“As if the humans can be corrupted further,” Hilopsicron remarked, scratching his chin with a claw the size of Zaros’ palm.

“Who are you to judge? You sit here, wasting away on your throne, allowing your children, your sons, to involve themselves in the tribulations of the mortals. For what reason?” Zaros stepped forwards and the two guards on either side of Hilopsicron stepped forwards, grips tight on their sheathed blades.

Hilopsicron’s eyes widened in anger at this, the fires in his eyes staining a vigorous coal black, “Do not think for one minute, that just because you are my son, you are not replicable. I will not, hesitate to put you into the ground!” He growled, teeth grinding against each other, dust floating from the high ceiling.

“You think placing them down there will prevent Daidric returning?!” Zaros spouted, anger filling his voice, his chains glowing.

“Infidel!” Hilopsicron roared, slamming his massive fist onto the throne, molten fire spewing from the crater. He stood, his massive posture towering over Zaros and anything in the room, a shadow dark enough to be cast in the darkness, smothering him, corrupting him. He stepped down the stairs, leaving his club behind, striding towards Zaros until he stood there, a foot away, staring down.

Zaros growled through grit teeth, arcing his head back to look up, “I know you think my brothers can keep an eye on Daidric’s tomb, in the Forgotten Lands, think by some minute chance that Daidric returns and wreaks havoc- but they wouldn’t be able to stop him. Valnaar- I know he keeps them there to work in conjunction with the Celestial tombs as well- but it will fail. They have grown reluctant in their cause, they~”

Zaros couldn’t even see Hilopsicron move; all he felt was the unbearable agony which flashed in both his arms when they broke. Zaros fell backwards, onto his back, both arms limp by his side, warped in horrible directions.

Rolling there in silent agony, muttering and whispering to himself, Hilopsicron rested the sole of his foot onto Zaro’s neck, pushing down. He gurgled golden blood, a small trickle going down his chin, misty eyes staring up onto his father’s red ones.

“I couldn’t care less for Valnaar’s need to watch or prevent the Celestials from arising from their tombs below the ground; nor do I care for Damarus’ plans for his new Demonic army. I care only in keeping Daidric below- I have heard what the oracles have foretold, and I do not wish to test their knowledge, despite my title.”

Shock flashed in his son’s eyes.

“You don’t know?” His teeth spread into a slight grin, looking up at the open entrance behind Zaros, where the bodies of his guards lay strewn, “I’m surprised Valnaar didn’t tell you. It’s a premonition; turns out the Celestials are the least of our problems, as he rises again. The Dark Lord will rise again, but this time stronger, and fuelled by an unquenchable vengeance.”