G.F.R., 2057

  Telosta woke up blasting.

  Or rather, she tried.

  Instead of golden energy erupting out of her hands, there was nothing.

  Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

  Fight or flight.

  The latter wasn’t an option.

  Or was it?

  The nightmare was real.

  Yet, she wasn’t there anymore.

  Instead of being inside a cramped cave set into the side of a cloud cliff she lay inside a tube-shaped chamber that looked and felt identical to the ones the people she came from used to imprison criminals in a cage of their nightmares.

  Except, she wasn’t on her homeworld.

  She remembered it clearly.

  She was on a Terminus World.

  Earth.

  Such unimaginative natives.

  Why would they name their planet after the literal ground?

  Where was their sense of poetry?

  The warm liquid began to drain.

  The chamber hissed as it opened.

  Bare feet hit the cold metal floor.

  She wasn’t nude or wearing a skinsuit.

  Indeed, she wore clothing typical to the local population.

  Blue jeans and a simple shirt.

  She tried to activate her storage Skill to grab a few weapons and protection.

  Nothing.

  She tried other Skills and spells to no avail.

  Diagnosing the problem was impossible because she couldn’t feel a problem.

  Everything she felt and knew told her that she should’ve been able to use her abilities.

  The dread grew in her stomach.

  The tiny pebble was now a rock the size of her fist.

  She wasn’t a true warrior.

  Even if an eidolon was expected to maintain a minimum level of sufficiency at combat.

  She was a scholar first.

  She had come to Earth to trickle out advanced knowledge to the Americans while taking as much as she could from them in exchange.

  Naturally, they didn’t know that.

  They never did.

  The thought struck her with the strength of a kinetic mace to the side of her head.

  Up until that very moment she had completely forgotten about the Americans.

  What was happening?

  Or maybe the correct question to ask was who or what was doing this to her.

  She was clearly a prisoner.

  The chamber she stood in was stark white.

  Walls, floor, ceiling.

  All were—

  No!

  That wasn’t correct.

  What she initially took to be white-painted surfaces was actually an absence.

  An empty void, but not dark, black.

  It was the opposite.

  The realization almost caused her to fall.

  The metal beneath her feet felt solid, but looking down told her mind that there was nothing to stand on.

  The body almost obeyed the mind.

  Until her problem vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

  A path appeared.

  Or was it directions?

  Whatever the case she knew that she had no choice.

  The long walk seemed to last years or days or minutes.

  “Eidolon of Soio, sit down.”

  But—

  She already sat in a cold, hard chair.

  An Earth human male sat behind a desk directly in front of her.

  The rich wooden surface was mostly empty except for a handful of pictures in frames and small holographic projections.

  The life-like quality of the latter had her scholar’s mind working until it wasn’t.

  She found it odd that her natural curiosity had simply switched off.

  That was most unlike her.

  He cleared his throat, allowing her to really see him for the first time.

  Black hair, muscular build, but diminutive compared to her.

  He sat, but she judged that had they embraced he would fit comfortably beneath her chin.

  “Telosta, you have been judged and found guilty.”

  Silence followed.

  For a moment, for an eternity and everything in between.

  “I don’t recall a trial. May I know the specific charges?”

  Except, she did.

  Suddenly, like a wall in her memories crumbled to dust in an instant.

  “Oh… I see.”

  “I will give you the choice of your punishment.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  As an eidolon she wasn’t used to occupying the lesser being status.

  Only demigods and Gods stood above her.

  And she could easily handle the former if they were under a century in age.

  “Death. Quick and painless. One moment you sit in that chair—” He snapped his fingers. She reacted as if an explosion had gone off next to her. “The next moment… oblivion.”

  At least it would be quick.

  She had thought that there was a possibility of being forced to sign a breeding contract.

  It was how many of the Gods and demigods did things.

  Better to use defeated foes than waste them in imprisonment or death.

  Ransom was another option they undertook, but usually in addition to the former.

  There was great value in harvesting potentially powerful offspring to be raised to serve the Gods.

  She could bear one child, perhaps two if necessary.

  They would have to treat pregnant her with respect and care to ensure the child’s health.

  There were worse ways to spend her sentence.

  What was a handful of years bearing and nursing a child or two when measured against decades enduring the worst of a prison.

  She shuddered at the thought of the raping.

  It wasn’t something she had ever faced and she’d rather die than learn how it was from the wrong side.

  “May I negotiate for a ransom and… the breeding agreement?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “we don’t do that here.”

  “I see. Then understand that I have in my possession the means to end my life in an instant. If you intend rape I will not hesitate to use it.”

  “Your second option is permanent expulsion. You will be taken to the spire of your choice and you will leave never to return under the pain of your first option.”

  She blinked and searched for the trap.

  Where was the ransom?

  Did he really not want anything in return?

  It had to be a trap.

  One didn’t present two choices with one clearly superior.

  “But… why? you’re just letting me leave?”

  “You don’t get to ask. You will be returned to your tube until you decide.”

  Telosta woke up in said tube.

  She remembered making her choice, so she got out and went home.

  …

  Shadlan the Ravager woke up sitting in a chair.

  “Eidolon of Sesre, you have been judged and found guilty.”

  “By what tribunal? No! I reject all! Lesser beings don’t have the right to lay judgment upon a servant of the Gods.”

  “By your victims.”

  He saw them suddenly.

  Standing, glaring down at him from the stands.

  Many faces.

  Men, women, children.

  All ages.

  “That’s… impossible.”

  when had he gone from sitting in a plain, white room seated across a desk from a tiny Earth human male to the blood-soaked sands of an arena from his homeworld.

  It had been decades, perhaps even a century since he had last been home, let alone fought in the arena.

  “Blasphemy!” he snarled.

  He was the one that slew the condemned, the undesirables, the filth.

  “For the crimes of rape, muder and pedophilia, you will die.”

  “No! I dispute the charges! Over half of them were given to me by the Americans. They weren’t victims. They were willing volunteers.”

  “No.”

  “Yes! By their status as citizens of their nation they were required to obey. Thus, I committed no crime.”

  “And the ones that didn’t?”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “They are lesser beings of a lesser world. They have no rights under the Laws of the Gods. The women should be grateful that I gave them my superior seed.” He roared up at them. “How dare you look down on your superior? The children I gave you are worth more than some minor discomfort.”

  “Your rape victims should be grateful that you gave them children? It’s always interesting and horrifying to delve into the twisted beliefs at the source of unambiguous evil.”

  The puny Earth male was suddenly in front him.

  Then behind.

  Then in front again, but also behind and to both sides.

  There were many.

  There was one.

  “Death is their sentence for you. In the way that you most fear buried deep down in your filth.”

  Shadlan the Ravager lashed out only to suddenly wake up embedded into the blood-soaked wall of the arena pit.

  The pain lasted for so long that he begged for a merciful end.

  The Earth male only ended it when all of Shadlan’s victims agreed.

  It took the eidolon years to die.

  …

  Alcaestus, Eidolon of Adras, stared at Cal Cruces.

  “Could you repeat that?”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.”

  “I’m not going to waste my time. We both know you have a good memory.”

  “True.” Alcaestus conceded. “So, I’m a prisoner of war. Your prisoner. And said war is over. Suiteonemiades is dead, among others. The American capital is essentially empty of all life aside from monsters.”

  “We tried destroying everything, but the spires keeps slowly rebuilding the monuments, landmarks and everything else to be encounter challenges and spawn zones.”

  “Yes. History shows that your world has perhaps half a century to a full century before the spires begins slowly stopping the automatic rebuilding process.” He spared a moment for thought. “What’s left of the Americans are in New York or absorbed into your nation, Richellia or Atlanta?”

  “And other places all over the world. I gave everyone involved a choice.”

  “Like you’re giving me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re the least objectionable of your kind. You hold more value to us performing labors than dead or deported. Besides, I’ve accounted for your every action on my world. You’ve done overwhelmingly more good for the people than bad.”

  “But it strains credulity that you’d allow an enemy relative freedom to travel your world. Even if it’s performing labors for Earth’s humanity.”

  “This isn’t a gift. You will work alone. You will have next to no backup or support. You will throw yourself against monsters besieging a town while we protect and save them. You will wander the worst regions battling monsters and monstrous people from this world and others. You will do this for twenty-seven years. And only then may you leave.”

  “What’s to stop me from doing just that? You’re not even making me swear a binding oath or sign a contract.”

  “You think you’re an honorable person. Your word will be enough. If it isn’t and you prove honor less? Well, that is the worst punishment you can conceive.”

  Alcaestus shrugged.

  True enough.

  “I will not fight my side.”

  “As long as you provide no aid if they are stupid enough to try again.”

  “On pain of death? I don’t believe you can enforce that.”

  “I imagine so, but your belief is irrelevant. I’m operating on my reality.”

  “Why that number?”

  “My son would’ve been that age just a few weeks ago.”

  The eidolon stiffened.

  The pressure grew around him suddenly. As if he had plunged straight to the deepest ocean trench.

  His ears buzzed with the wings of a million murder bees. Deafening to the point that he almost shouted out for Adras to save or end his pain.

  His vision tunneled on to Cal Cruces’ eyes. They bored into him, reminding him of his brief encounter with the Immortal Sphinx, whose gaze had seen eons pass.

  Part of him blasphemed as it did then.

  Pray to Adras? Pray to his God?

  Why?

  He lacked the power to save Alcaestus or ease his suffering.

  An eternity passed.

  Or a moment.

  Whatever the case it vanished just as suddenly as it had arrived.

  “My condolences.”

  He said nothing more deathly afraid of saying the wrong thing.

  Cal Cruces looked away.

  “He killed Suiteonemiades in single combat.”

  “That is…”

  Hard to believe.

  A young man, Cal Cruces son or not, shouldn’t have stood a chance against the oldest known demigod. Quite possibly the strongest demigod in history.

  Alcaestus blinked.

  Come to think of it.

  Did he know Cal Cruces had a son?

  Yes.

  He decided without giving it further thought.

  “You knew him. Knew my Alin.” Cal Cruces continued. “In Vancouver.”

  “The Slasher’s Spree event?” He wracked his brain, reviewing his memories.

  “He was the ranger that tricked you into fighting that transforming moose monster.”

  “Ah… I remember. Though not his face on account of his helmet.” He hesitated again for the existential fear of saying the wrong thing. “I know not what you feel. But slaying Suiteonemiades in single combat is a feat worthy of the greatest re-tellings. Songs should be sung. Poetry recited. Shows created. Even though we war against each other your son’s deed will be remembered for eternity.”

  “If I allow it.”

  Cal Cruces didn’t elaborate.

  “I accept. I will labor under your direction. Not because I am your prisoner of war, but in honor of your son and his achievement. And when my sentence is finished I shall insure that he is remembered even by his enemies.”

  …

  She walked as she did everything else.

  With perfection.

  Grace, elegance and any number of superlatives embodied in her being.

  Kerkestis, Eidolon of Sunor, was like a perfect statue come to life.

  Her surroundings however?

  Well, they were the opposite.

  Utilitarian and brutish.

  The floor was undecorated metal.

  Plain steel.

  Cold under her bare feet.

  The walls and ceiling appeared to be bare iron with small patches of rock or stone and occasionally some other metal.

  Harsh lights illuminated the way.

  Not that she needed them to see.

  Even without her Skills or spells an eidolon’s eyes meant that she was rarely in the dark.

  It was rather cramped, forcing her to duck at times.

  Granted she was taller than any Earth human in their short history.

  It was an insulting imprisonment for one of her stature.

  As the representative of the King of the Gods she deserved better than to be placed in some simple cave.

  Then again, she should’ve expected it.

  To go from where she was to where she awoke inside a tube without transition required power that only one being on the planet possessed.

  It had been so seamlessly done.

  Her mind hadn’t noticed then and it couldn’t remember now.

  She found her warden at the end of the long, winding tunnel standing in front of an immense wall of dark gray metal.

  He stared at the wall for some reason.

  “Cal Cruces. Let us begin negotiations.”

  “For?”

  “Terms.”

  “Surrender? You missed that part, Kerkestis. You all skipped right to prisoner of war. Unless you want to dispute the war thing?”

  She did not.

  “Ransom or imprisonment. There are protocols. Assurances of treatment. So on and so forth.”

  “Your rules. Not mine.”

  “You would violate order? Have I misjudged you?”

  “Nope. I am playing by your rules.” He turned from the wall and looked upon her like she was an insect.

  Never had she felt like a mere mortal underneath the feet of one of the primogenitor titans said to have birthed the Gods she worshiped and obeyed.

  No.

  That wasn’t entirely true.

  She recalled one time when she stood near Sunor when he had revealed the fullness of his divine self to bring battle to one of the unknowable entities from the outer dark beyond the void.

  Standing in front of Cal Cruces reminded her of that one terrible, awe-inspiring moment that had driven her mad for the better part of a decade.

  Then it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

  He stood there, as small as child in front of his mother.

  She had taken several steps back, thought she couldn’t remember consciously doing so.

  “Then it is terms without negotiation.” Her mouth had gone dry for the first time in centuries. “We are at your mercy.”

  The finality of the truth rang like a bell in her words.

  She had been trying to use her Skills and cast magic the moment she came to awareness inside that tube.

  There would be no fighting.

  The superhuman strength of her body wouldn’t be sufficient against a Psionic Prime.

  One powerful enough to do whatever it was he was doing to steal her teeth and claws.

  “I shall take responsibility. May all punishment, no matter how brutal, fall upon me instead of my people.”

  He merely regarded her like that insect for a long time.

  She didn’t dare breathe or look away despite the pain it caused.

  Her eyes watered to stare at his.

  The buzzing of countless wings in her ears would drive her mad before long.

  The weight pressing down on all sides was akin to a titan’s hand squeezing her.

  “It’s too late, Kerkestis. You’re the last one,” he said without expression. “My world is empty of your kind. No more demigods. No more eidolons. Well… just one, but I’ll leave that for you to discover on your own. Assuming you choose the second option.”

  “Options?”

  “For your punishment. You’ll remember the trial now.”

  And she did.

  It had been straightforward.

  As the vanquished she didn’t have any leverage.

  War meant death, imprisonment or worse.

  She could honestly admit that Cal Cruces would treat her better than many of the Gods’ forces would.

  There would be no rape or torture. No breeding contracts. No indentured mercenary work. No slavery.

  He was soft as young idealists tended to be.

  “A lesson for you?”

  “You’re old. You’ve experienced a lot. It’s worth a listen. So, go ahead. I’ll let you have a few words before I make you decide.”

  “Mercy will not be returned by all, but a few of the Gods.”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t care what your fake gods do or don’t do. All I wanted was for you to not be imperialist bastards. I would’ve welcomed peaceful, mutually beneficial co-existence. Yes, even on my world. You know that.”

  She thought of the subterranean bat-like humanoids. And the herds he helped escape servitude.

  “Isn’t that a better way to exist? We fight the monsters, the evil. Not each other. But, then again, what if you are the evil?”

  “I will not refute that. There are Gods that fall under most subjective understandings of evil.”

  “And yet you work alongside them without issues. Haven’t you ever thought that makes you evil too?”

  “No.”

  “Agree to disagree.” He raised a finger, forestalling her. “Before you give me your answer. Why don’t you take a look first?” He directed her to the dark gray wall.

  It moved, sliding open like a blast door.

  She almost cringed at the thought of some lurking horror waiting on the other side like in the defense of the Greater Archives on Othrys, Fifteenth World of Its Name during the Reaping War.

  Blackness greeted her.

  There were distant pinpricks of light, but they just confused her.

  “What am I to see beyond the night sky.”

  “One second.”

  The floor shuddered.

  The stars moved.

  And then she understood.

  Out there in the void were two orbs.

  One small and gray.

  And behind it one much larger in mostly blue with green and brown.

  Cal Cruces eyed her.

  “You’re in a big floating rock in space. There are no spires for you to escape through. You can survive a vacuum for a time, but we did the calculations. It’s too far for you to do that and have enough power and mana left to survive re-entry.”

  “It isn’t a true choice then? Stay here or leave your world.”

  “What did Sunor command you to do? Ah, yes! Do not return without victory. And if I recall, you once told me that meant a secure territory. With the end of America you have nothing now. Empty hands to take back to your fake god. How will he react?”

  “You are a Psionic Prime. They will never be able to trust me. I can’t trust me.”

  He smiled at that.

  All teeth and malice.

  “So, he’ll just kill you? After centuries of loyal, competent service? What a poor excuse for a fake god.”

  She would have lashed out at the continued blasphemy had she but the power to do so.

  “Or maybe they’ll dig up those things you’ve got buried in your most hidden armory the last time you faced a Psionic Prime. Will it work though? Was that one better than me? Worse?”

  “You should just execute me.”

  “This is punishment. Not mercy. You’re special among eidolons. Old, powerful, respected. I’m not turning you into a martyr.” He gestured at the Earth. “Accountability. For what you’ve done, you must pay. All of you. Death is too easy. You have to pay. And so, you shall. Never again will you know whether or not your thoughts are your own. Maybe I’ve changed you in a fundamental way. Or maybe I didn’t. Does it matter in the end? What if it spreads? What if my will is akin to a virus? And all the eidolons I’ve already sent on their way are carriers of my psychic disease?”

  “That’s impossible!” she snapped on instinct. “There is no record.”

  He shrugged.

  “Powers are different. Stronger or weaker. And it’s not like you have a large sample size. You’re my messenger Kerkestis. One way or another or another and another. You’ll never be sure that you’re not doing exactly what I want. Of course that’s only if your fake god doesn’t reward your loyalty with instant death upon your return.”

  Her mind raced like a rodent running in its wheel. All the effort to remain in one place.

  If he was speaking truth about a psychic virus then she could not, must not return directly to Sunor. She needed a world to quarantine on.

  Yes.

  Then she could send a message, a warning.

  “You’re my messenger, Kerkestis. I’ll send you to the world you’re thinking off. I don’t mind. As long as you tell your fake gods one thing.”

  “It seems that I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Maybe or maybe not.”

  “Then what would you have me tell them.”

  “That I understand this defeat isn’t enough to teach them the lesson they need to learn. Eidolons and demigods dying isn’t enough. Tell them that I sincerely hope that one god’s death is enough because I am willing to go to two, three, four and all of them. I won’t stop until they come to my negotiation table on their knees in supplication, begging for forgiveness.”

  She licked her lips and tried to moisten her mouth to no avail.

  “Tell them I hold them all responsible for the death of my son.” His eyes seemed to blaze and shine with the twinkling lights from the countless distant stars in the black void. “A son killed a son. So a father shall kill a father. Whether it ends there is in their hands.”