Tread Lightly

I watch in the distance as the light flickers during the eclipse, casting shifting silhouettes across the landscape, the twins rotating ominously in the skies above. Two mighty Gods clash in the heavens westward, their influence echoing through the air like thunder. Sighing, I know just how terrible this all is.

Vincent is fighting a God over there. Probably Kaisen. It'd be good if that were the case. But... something tells me that is not the truth. I don't see any ash.

Turning my head to face my friends, I let out a breath I was unaware I had been holding. Their eyes tell me all I need to know.

"Looks like we're not sleeping the night. Haah... I wanted one last dream. Let's go find Bonfire and Natos. I have a feeling Isaac won't last much longer."

The two nod slowly, as both are still caught up in the throes of Godly strength. To them, this does seem abysmal, as if their personal growth means nothing. It could not be further from the truth.

"Guys. Take a deep breath. You won't be fighting those things. That's my job, okay? In and out. Relax. I'm a Godslayer, remember?"

Earl does as I say, taking in a big gulp of air, while Elizabeth does the opposite. Her lungs deflate, and her eyes harden as she stares right back at me.

"I'm fine. Let's do this."

Her Power weakens considerably upon me as she speaks, but it quickly returns to full potency once she is quiet. That's a damn good upgrade.

Together, we return to Barrage.

****************

Out of breath and gasping for air that refuses to fill my lungs, I grip the edge of the table with all my might. A few days ago, it'd be nothing but splinters. I want to complain; I want to scream.

But I do not. I simply return Natos a smile as he bows to me, ever so respectful and nervous.

"Thank you. I will remember this evermore. Should you and Timemi cross blades, I... will sit out. That is all I can say."

Emmet Knox smacks his lips with his legs kicked up onto the table just a few feet away. His 9th Sigil already beats into my eyes with its midnight purple tint, but he's still just as irritating as ever to people like Natos.

"Loosen those pants, will you? I don't even want to kill you anymore. And who would care? We'd kick her and your ass all the same? Who does she think she is? Some Demigod!? Hah! Look at me!"

My friend pats his chest as Natos flicks his eyes at me. A second of hesitation, of fear lingers, and then the demon overcomes his past. Newfound respect blooms while the demon gives Bonfire a rebuttal.

"Timemi is not one to fall behind, Bono."

Sweat enters the air as the temperature abruptly spikes, reminding me of the surface of the sun while Bonfire's eyes squint to a line. He glares at Natos with fury and grinds out words from his teeth.

"Where. Did. You. Hear. That."

The demon with flesh similarly scarred to Emmet grins; the fear is long gone, and a confident disposition is in its place. He juts a thumb out at me.

"I hear all that the light touches, within a certain radius, of course. The Blooming Spider Lily sure does love to tease you, Bono."

Now, Bonfire's ire twists to the gun at my hip as Lily refuses to materialize. She must know what is awaiting her out here. Not finding her to appear, the pyro slides his eyes back to Natos.

"I change my mind. I like you."

Motherfucker. I can't tell if it's a veiled threat or not. And neither can Natos. The man simply shrugs, striding toward the door. On the first step outside, radiance swirls around his feet, manifesting a pane of light. The newest Demigod in the world nods toward me before flying away on the board of white.

"Can't say the same."

Bonfire bursts into laughter once Natos is gone, smacking his knees and going so far as to bonk his head on the table.

"Oww! I sure got him, didn't I?"

I shift my eyes to look at the man while a slight red mark lines his temple. What a jokester. I'll give him this one, I guess, even if I don't believe it so.

"Yeah. You got him."

The wicked grin I receive nearly breaks my seriousness. Instead of letting myself laugh, I stumble out of the building, hardly able to walk as I am. This is rough. How am I going to fight like this?

Whatever. Blodwyn will just have to make up for it, I guess. I can feel myself getting used to it. However, I'm not sure if it's his Concept or my own body acclimatizing to the strain.

Nevertheless, we aren't doing it fast enough. Time is ticking. I don't think... I don't think Isaac will last much longer. In fact... I want to go and see it.

Just as I watched Kai and Marshall's final moments through their eyes, I wish to do the same for Isaac. Both of those deaths spurred me onward and gave me strength that I was unaware I possessed. And what I need now more than anything is that strength, that force of will, that indomitable spirit.

So, I take my steps toward the depths of Barrage. Commotions surround me as Blodwyn creates a cane of bone for me to walk with. The instant of raw agony that births it is worth it, allowing me to walk more comfortably.

Faces turn toward me constantly as if people are second-guessing what they see. Some point at me, and I hear the whispers under their breaths.

"Is that him? The secret Iron that they won't tell us about?"

"Shut up. Why would that kid be him? He looks barely eighteen! And that limp! Bah. Get back to work."

I only pay full attention to one short conversation, quickly giving an old soldier of Marshall's an appreciative nod as he sets up the lift for me to go down. I place my back against it as those two stand on the platform as well, heading down for one reason or the other.

"James, right?"

Checking the man's name, I watch his eyes light up with a fire. The joy at my recognition of him cannot go unsaid.

"You remember me, sir?"

I nod, crossing my arms and steadying my stance as my weight shifts, the platform lowering with the spinning wheels and ropes. The man is not too atypical of a soldier, with some scars and plenty of wear and tear. It is his slightly gray hair that sparks the memory, though.

James Cordoe, one of Marshall's few 5th Sigileds. I see he's a Colonel now, rising one higher since our time at Bent.

"Of course, James. We fought side by side. How could I forget? You might hear I'm dumb, but I got three brains in 'ere. Hard to forget things like that."

I point to my head as some of the people on the platform give us odd looks. One of the younger soldiers even scoffs, chuckling as if what I said was a joke.

"Hah! Three brains. Are you counting both your balls or something?"

A palm strikes the 2nd Sigil's head, the base of the skull sent forward as James berates him. The older man is swift, proving why he survived all the way till now.

"Shut it. Respect others, or I'll have to court martial you. And disrespecting someone like him is a fast pass to losing your rank."

The younger man glares at me with hate, but I don't take him too seriously. If he's getting this angry over something as small as what I said, then he's not worth speaking to. Worst case, James will take care of him.

It's odd feeling his eyes bore into me as the platform lands. I've been surrounded by either the most vile people alive or the best. It's bizarre feeling something a little more in between.

Shaking my head, I simply walk away, using the cane to help with each step. The marble floor has long been cleared of the war that came across it. As such, my journey is smooth until I find three familiar figures at the end of the tunnels.

Silas and Birdie share a table before the Gate of Death, trying a variety of foods to see which they can taste. I listen to them speak for a moment, commenting on how only spices and, oddly enough, carrots.

I don't know why those are the case, but I swiftly shift my attention from them as there is a man more important to my motive. Lennon Hull sits kneeling, his legs directly beneath him and his hands clasped in a prayer-like stance.

Squinting, I walk around him to see if he is indeed praying, and I find his eyes closed. I purse my lips and wait a few moments to see if he's going to move, but Silas calls out to me before anything else.

"He won't move if you are just going to watch him. 'Said he was meditating or something. Wake him up if you want to know more."

With a long sigh, I get low to the ground, sitting beside Lennon as the man seems to breathe so shallowly that his chest doesn't move.

"He's still alive, right?"

I ask Blodwyn and Lily for confirmation, and they both agree. He is indeed still alive. I call out to him, waving my hand toward him, and the instant that my hand comes close, his eyes open, and I feel formless fingers wrapped around mine.

"Hey, Le—"

"What. Can't you see I'm praying?"

Bewildered, I lean back slowly as I finally notice a literal blade nestled upon his thighs, resting serenely. I ask the question despite having an inkling of the answer.

"What are you praying to?"

Lennon Hull closes his eyes and places his palms, which are made of his soul, back together.

"My God, my blade. I am never to become one. So, instead, I shall create my own. I now understand why Kaisen is so strong. He is two Gods in one. She brought him up while he already had Divinity in his grasp. Not all can withstand a Concept. Instead, we must rely on a tool to do it for us."

I run my tongue along the roof of my mouth as I don't quite know how to answer him. That is quite the explanation. In the end, I just ask for a mere confirmation.

"And so, you're praying?"

The swordsman nods deeply, with no further motions, as he falls quiet after his words.

"Yes. Faith in anything begins with a prayer, whether conscious or subconscious. All Gods are born in our hearts; we must bring them out to see the world. This sword is my heart, my Heartsword, my Dia. Our roads are different, yet our destinations are the same. Come. Sit. And pray."

I don't have a good reason to decline other than finding it bizarre. So, I do as he requests, climbing around to mirror his stance. It's uncomfortable with my current body, but as I mimic his hand gesture, placing my palms against each other while interlacing my fingers, I feel some serenity fill my closed eyes.

The darkness is peaceful.

It is here that I sense Lennon's Heartsword. I have no idea what to call it, but it is a solidified Concept. It is... terrifying. I've never had something give me chills in this way, but I feel it. I feel... apprehension just perceiving it. I don't know if that's necessarily called fear, but it's close enough.

Though, that's not why I'm here. I don't really know why, anyway. I wanted to come and see Isaac, but it was a stupid thought. After all, going through the Gate of Death in my state is not ideal.

Blodwyn may counteract Death's leftovers, but that is not going to save me when I'm already like this.

So, instead, I simply breathe, forgetting my woes as I fall inwardly. In just a few moments, I pass by Blodwyn and Lily, diving into the depths of my soul. A cool calm washes over my being as I embrace the serenity.

I have no clue what 'God' Lennon speaks of, but at this point, I know better than to listen to him literally. He is unique, and the things he feels and does are impossible for anyone else.

Moments pass in this darkness as I become more and more at peace with my being. I even feel some of the suppression wash away.

Oh.

My.

Blodwyn.

This is where prayers come from. It is the peace, the calmness of the inner soul, that grants a great strength. Most people pivot and point focus on a higher power, but it isn't needed. One can pray themselves into Godhood, as long as they have the Sigils to take them there.

Actually... is that even required?

If someone manages Conceptual Ether and imbues it into themselves, do they just become a God at any Sigil? Maybe. I can only expect that to be near-impossible if people like Remington and Vincent didn't manage to do so.

Maybe it is possible. I simply don't think anyone born yet possesses that sheer affinity with a Conce—Marigold.

Fucking hell. What are Sigils, then? What are they for? What do they do?

As I ponder this question, I feel my mind expand, and my soul reaches out. It caresses the edge of the skull-filled gate before me. Then, it spreads beyond it, with only a minor pause.

Shocked, I feel my soul enter the Underworld. Immediately, I turn to search for Isaac, but I find him without a moment of looking. The scene is not what I wanted to see, but what I could only expect after all this time. I focus my gaze on the old soldier before I feel my mind enter his.

The heartbeat earlier, I discover a hint of the answer. Each Sigil has its own Concept at its base. What if... Sigils are simply hints, small pieces of a Concept?

*****************************

Isaac 'Eye Of Demonaire' Erno

I kneel on the ground, utterly exhausted, every fiber of my being screaming in agony. The Black Imp Jesu stares down at me, their hand stabbing into my chest like a searing dagger. I feel them rip it out, a surge of pain coursing through me as I lose all feeling in my body.

The heart doesn't matter to most Undead. Yet... it is the core of my Excavator, which is the foundation for many of my skills. Without it... I fall limply, but the God holds me up with one burning hand.

"No. Don't go quite yet. It would be a pity for you to die on your own. Allow me the honor, Isaac of the Thousand Powers. We were unable to end the other three, but we caught you. How honorable."

My right eye is blind, and the power within it is long lost. Still, I manage to stare upward and see Jesu nonetheless as he prepares to end me finally. But strangely, I don't feel sad. Instead, a sense of calm washes over me, a quiet acceptance of my fate as the Divinity I was using is ripped from me. Without its strength... I am but fodder.

I smile bloody up at the God before me, their form towering and majestic as they ripple with boiling magma. Bursts of heat bubble and squirm over their obsidian form with lines of crimson. Jesu rears back an arm of molten magma, the heat intense and unbearable. I watch as it shifts and transforms, taking shape as a long sword of gleaming burning rock.

I know what is coming. I know that this is the end. And yet, I am not afraid. I have lived a long life after my death. I hope... I did not waste her gift. Her Majesty might have lost the battle, but... the ones she left behind will win the war.

As the sword rises up before me, I close my eyes, surrendering to the inevitable. The blade falls with a silent prophecy, sinking into my flesh and severing my spine. The pain is nonexistent, and as I watch my own body fall to the side, my head rolling, I think of that little girl.

I hope she is doing good. I hope she'll have a wonderful life. That she'll go to school. That she'll meet new friends every day. That she'll never have to lift a finger to fight. That she'll live the life I could never give mine. That she'll... my thoughts begin to slow as I struggle to think.

Little Marigold. I hope that you never have to venture into these depths. The Heights Of Hope is a pedestal meant for a time of strife. I wonder... where will he place me?

I hope... I hope I did well. I have no clue how long I fought here. Time... ceased its meaning once the Divinity started to devour me inside and out. Goodbye, Marigold, the little light the darkness has never known. Were it not for you, Wyatt may have convinced me. But I am glad I stood proud.

Good luck, my girl. Don't let the shadows scare you into hiding.

I'll be watching over you with my one good eye.