As Divines, we excel above them to such degrees that there is no competition. A master does not humiliate himself by facing off against an amateur, and a Divine should never humiliate themselves by facing off against a mortal. In this fashion, we should take up the mantle of responsibility, put aside our own petty differences and stand together to lead this world. The reign of Divines is stable and humanity naturally bows to us. The unity we inspire in them is a level nothing else can match, all that is required is unity amongst ourselves.
And yet that is not the case. We know of Paradeisius and we know of Tartarus. We know both of them have their own equivalents to Divines. And we know that both of them have their own Divine-equivalents actively participate in their day-to-day society. Arda, in this regard, is behind. No matter whether they keep their arguments private or whether they are simply ruling cliques which exterminate opposition, the simple fact of the matter is that they are able to present united fronts. On Arda, Divines are wrangled, tricked, blackmailed or forced into cooperation. In this fashion, Arda simply cannot compete.
Whether it is because we are creatures of humanity, and humanity is argumentative between itself, or whether it is the way we are groomed for rulership, the simple fact of the matter is that Ardan Divines do not like to cooperate. Yet as I write this, I know it is not true. Rather, what should be said is that they are unfamiliar with cooperation, rather than outright allergic to it. I would not argue this point if it has not been proven to me once already, but it is through unified Divinity that humanity actually got a place to settle. Unified Divinity successfully signed the Concordats with dragonkind.
Thus, cooperation is not outright impossible, yet I know that unless someone does it themselves, Divinity will ally in any meaningful way. I am sure that when the need arises and if Tartarus or Paradeisius decided to invade our world, we would stand side-by-side. Yet the simple question remains. Will it not be too late by then?
- Excerpt from the Private Writings of God Arascus, of Pride.
“We’ll turn the vehicles around.” One of the engineers said through the window of his armoured car to Neneria as flames appeared from behind the horizon. Or at least, as much of a horizon as one could have underground. This was the great North-South Epa-Arika Highway, it was horrendously large, an entire fortress complex could be fit here. A swarm of dragons could race each other and still have room to manoeuvre. And she must be getting deep into enemy territory or Tartarus was moving fast in itself. Gold coins were scattered all over the place, they were embedded into the walls and stuck into the ceiling.
And on each coin was the demon Mammon that watched Neneria move. Every time she would kneel to inspect any of the coins, the creature with its horns flipped upside down would wave to tauntingly wave to Neneria or motion that it could see her. It didn’t bother her frankly, maybe it should, but it simply did not. She could not change it, she was not Elassa or Iniri or Anassa to start digging the coins out of stone, so what was there to even worry about? “That won’t be needed.” Neneria said as Pegaz fell through the ground, her black boots touched the grand stone. She straightened and stood as the ghastly visage of her mount disappeared. Its green glow faded away.
“It’s just protocol Goddess.” The engineer replied and Neneria let it be. These were Kassandora’s soldiers, not hers, they would follow Kassandora’s orders, not hers. She let it be and just waved a dismissive hand. She took position and took a deep breath as the four cars behind her dimmed their headlights and began to turn so that they were facing sideways. For small teams like this, supposedly this was the best and safest method of preparing. The cars could turn at a moment’s notice to retreat, or to press the advantage.
Neneria did not particularly care. They were only here to do basic things like keep reports on battles and draw lines on maps. Kassandora could demand a whole lot but one thing Neneria simply refused to do was sit down and write up events of what had happened. If it was so important that Kassandora needed to know it, Neneria would just tell her.
More fires appeared from the distance and Neneria turned her head and listened to the footsteps of the demons approaching. Her hearing was not good whatsoever, maybe it was better than a mortal’s, but Neneria did not even know that. She didn’t care either. The fact her measly ears managed to pick out footsteps meant that the few flames in the distance were just cover.
Amateurs then? Neneria smiled to herself and she brushed the creases off her black coat. Her breath misted in the air and she cast an arm out to the side in preparation to flood this tunnel with souls of the damned. But then why was it only a dozen flames in the first rank? Normally every demon would be holding some odd torch of molten magma that gave heat and light and… Neneria changed tactics and prepared to summon massed cavalry and actual warriors. Flames meant Tartarian flameseers then…
But just that little? There were obviously thousands of footsteps, if not more. And they marched with such tight organisation that they could have been on parade. On parade in the darkness? And with Mammon providing intelligence? Neneria did not have to be a genius to work out that something was wrong. Before her, armies and groups of demons had started to flee. Recently she had been coming across what obviously were abandoned campsites the Tartarians had used for their troops so they obviously knew Neneria was approaching.
And now they were sending something at her?
The Goddess of Death was not going to give them the benefit of the first move. If there was some terrible demon that could swallow souls, she may as well kill it before it killed her. Neneria opened her dark heart, cast her hand forward and ghostly cavalry spilled out of the ground. They fell from the ceiling. They raced out of the walls. They charged ahead with pointed lance and swinging sword and axe held at the ready. Each man carrying the wound that felled him, some lacked an arm, some had a massive hole in their chest where a pike had ended them, one or two rode headless. And their steeds trampled and hissed and bared teeth and looked ahead with maddened eyes. And yet for all the movement and commotion, the charge was silent. Not a single one of Neneria’s soldiers could make a sound. Ethereal grey-green hoof and horseshoe smashed into stone, and yet it left no mark and no din.
Neneria watched lances drop in record time. She had been right to deploy cavalry, if she just flooded the tunnel with souls, they would have a minute to prepare before the first wave hit them, the speed of beasts quartered that time. Phantoms on horseback braced as they would if they were real. The sickening, stagnant shimmer from ghosts lit up the first few demons. Axe and sword began to swing. Neneria reached forward, ready to try and catch the slippery souls of demons. Creatures from out of this world were always harder to tame. And…
Neneria realised something was wrong. The demons had stopped moving as her waves of ghosts fell through them. She took a step back and she lifted her hand. They should have collapsed, it did not matter whether they wore rags or the strongest plate, at the end of the day, the ethereal could not be stopped by any basic material. And yet… The demons had come to a stop in perfect formation. Even the dozen at the front, still held the flame.
They had not repelled Neneria’s ghosts. They had stood there and withstood. But Neneria had felt nothing? She stared at the demons. Some were in ripped, rotten rags, others in the pristine black steel that their Legionnaires wore. There was a hellhound off to one side, its fur shaggy and yet its posture unnatural and proud. The state of their weaponry was in the same state. They ranged from claw and fist to stick and club to cleaver and fine sword along with everything in between. And yet they lacked magicians entirely. But…
Neneria recalled her ghosts. The wave running down the horde of demons disappeared. She had felt nothing entirely. There was not even the slightest hint of resistance. Even if they were powerful enough to resist being killed, then Neneria would have felt some feedback. She would have felt anything! It was as if they were soulless.
Oh.
All the gears in her head clicked.
This wasn’t the first time.
They were indeed soulless.
“So you have come?” Neneria shouted towards the crowd.
The demon raised his hands triumphantly to either side and shouted back in the most taunting voice he could assume. “So we have come monster!” The Goddess of Death smiled back, her teeth flashed in the flames. There were few men that would be so honest that they would call her a monster face-to-face. But then if there ever was one that deserved the allowance, it would be this horde.
Soulless, yet sharing a soul. Neneria saw the eyes glint in the darkness behind the demon. In clothes ragged and in armour and in nakedness and in everything in between. It was a conscious that devoured others. Neneria doubted it had a true body in the first place. Neneria turned to the side and fell backwards, the ghost of her steed, Pegaz, materialized into existence. The winged horse rose from the stone ground and caught her before she fell. “You cannot catch me.” Neneria said.
“And you cannot defeat us.” Only the demon with the torch answered. Neneria raised her hand into the air and motioned to the engineers that they were going to retreat. She was incompetent when it came to military affairs, but she wasn’t so useless that she didn’t know the most basic of hand-signs. The Goddess of Death did not respond to the taunt. There was no need.
She knew this creature that stood before her. She had faced it many times in the Great War. And no matter how many times she had faced it, the battle had always gone in the same manner. There was no soul to touch and the ethereal could not cut the physical. Neneria lowered her gaze as she stared at that monster. “So what will we do now?” Neneria shouted back.
The demon with the torch took a step forward. The entire horde moved in unison with him. It sounded like tens of thousands of footsteps coming down at once. “What we will do now is what we will always do monster.” The demon shouted. “We will give chase and you will run.”
One of the engineers opened the window to his car and slammed his rifle down on the side. Neneria heard the satisfying click of a bolt being pulled back and heard the man unleash some stupidity. “We can-“
“Don’t bother.” Neneria didn’t even want to hear it. “You cannot do that anything.” Pegaz start to set off. “It will have beasts in the back, it always does. Just retreat.” The ghastly horse started to pick up speed as the cars turned on.
“Bu-“
“I am leaving.” Neneria wasn’t going to argue. Pegaz started to dash. The four armoured cars set off behind their Goddess. And from behind, Neneria heard it. No longer were the footsteps the organised marching footsteps that beat together like a war drum. Now, it was the mad pattering of a rainstorm on a steel roof which raced and screamed and howled and taunted and called out for Neneria.
The Goddess of Death leaned forwards on Pegaz as the horse’s wings spread out and it lifted off into the air. The armoured cars soon fell behind it, it didn’t matter. If they were destined to be caught then there was nothing Neneria could do to save them in the first place. Her eyes caught flashes of gold and she silently cursed herself. Of course Tartarian leadership would send the monster without a soul against the Goddess who tore souls apart.
That didn’t matter though. Right now, Neneria was out of her depth. This wasn’t her job anymore. She gripped onto Pegaz’s side as the ethereal horse dashed through the air. Her coat made one black cloak in the whipping wind racing past her, her even darker hair made another. Kassandora had to be told.
Legion had arrived.