The invasive portal blooming into Token blackened before everyone’s eyes. Warriors of all types tensed behind Alan, including his golden souls extracted from his blade, readying for whatever popped out. Flint twirled his icy staff, and Itsy morphed her leaf whip into a shield.

  Fwom!

  The portal widened like a crimson beast’s mouth, causing the soldiers to peer up and step back.

  “I’m afraid your negotiations are at an end, Merchant,” Jaeger’s unmistakable voice resounded from the other side.

  Alan threw out his free hand to keep everyone steady, gripping hard around his golden sword. His intensity darkened the Token skies, daring the Red Pact to enter.

  “Hyndole did say you were fearless. Showing yourself at the forefront of our portal has shaken my warriors. But I tell them… their presence is veiled. Anything they reveal is a fool’s errand. While anything I reveal—is a masterpiece.”

  A shirtless tribesmen stumbled through the portal. He looked lost, with singed eyebrows and white paint over his face like a tiger slashed him.

  Roland and Itsy dropped their stances, giving Alan a sense of what was happening. He remembered their story. They were forced to kill a chieftain who doomed their tribe in some far-away Origin. Jaeger was using psychological warfare more than anything, as expected.

  “Everyone he sends through is meant to disrupt,” Alan yelled. “Itsy, he’s the one who plotted to kill your brother in your first life? The one you were forced to stab to save him?”

  “Aye,” Itsy’s voice sounded far away.

  The chief’s eye twitched as he faced an entire platoon by his lonesome. “He said you would be here.” His finger raised to single out Roland. “The traitor has amassed great wealth in the afterlife.” He clicked his tongue. “Rewarded for… deception.”

  Alan had a mind to dropkick the chief back into Ojin, but he wouldn’t be the one to take the first swing. Doing it would show strength in defense of the realm, but it would also be against his vision. Jaeger knew what he was doing sending in an unarmed man.

  “It’s you who betrayed us, Chief Navo! You!” Itsy shouted.

  Navo tilted his head, eyeing Itsy. “Are you so sure of that, murderer?” He tilted his head the other way. “Jaeger showed me my past through the dwelling snakes. He showed what happened to our town. All because of him!” He pointed harshly at Roland.

  It irked Alan that Roland wasn’t protesting. Itsy was so convinced her brother had a good heart… Although, now, Alan wondered.

  “He concocted this fictitious plot on his life. Why would I sentence my greatest asset? No. No, no, no, sweet Itsy. It was he who wanted to rule the tribe. You were just a cog in his scheme.”

  Tears welled up in Itsy’s eyes as she transformed her leafy shield back into a knife. “Rolly? Say it isn’t so.”

  Navo clicked his tongue again. “Your aspirations worked well for you, Roland.” Yellow and Black Saro swirled around the chief’s fists. “Warriors of the Horde, that’s who you follow. A realm built on lies and murder.”

  Uncertainty spread in Gosfor’s ranks.

  “I’ve atoned!” Roland growled.

  Itsy’s arms went limp. “No, Rolly. No.”

  “Pull it together, all of you.” Alan swiped his arm, wrapping the chief in a Black Saro whip. “This is what I warned Jaeger would do.”

  “Reveal the truth?” The black portal shivered with Jaeger’s mocking laughter. “What a terrible beast I must be to do that.”

  Roland dropped his staff, fell to his knees, and tugged at his own hair, shaken from staring at his old chief.

  “The realms I conquer all have skeletons hiding in their foundations. This is a cleansing, Alan. To build a better universe.”

  Itsy walked slowly past the warriors. “Good heart,” she whispered, blocking the space between Roland and their chief. She gripped the knife tight in her hand, making Alan nervous.

  “Itsafia… I’m sorry.” Roland winced, breaking down completely.

  “You led our people into despair!” Navo yelled. “Starting with your first act of grandeur… my murder.”

  “How could you let me carry the knife for you, Rolly?” Itsy wiped snot from her nose. “All this time, letting me feel justified that I protected my brother. All this time.” She reeled the knife back.

  “I don’t deserve your mercy, sister.” He shook his head and spread his arms wide, ready to accept his fate. “Make sure you aim for the heart, otherwise my healing Saro will just repair it.”

  “I protected you the whole way, Rolly. The whole freakin’ way!” She ripped his head up by the hair, hyperventilating.

  Warriors didn’t know what to do. Alan didn’t know what to do. Let the first blood be spilt by friendly fire? No.

  “Raa!” she screamed.

  Fsssst!

  Flint froze her arm to her back so she couldn’t commit the crime, and as soon as he did…

  Sssst!

  A giant ten-foot gothic claymore soared out of the portal, held by a stone golem with an expressionless face.

  Red Saro flashed around Alan’s body, granting him a sense of slowed time. The warriors’ faces reacted in slow motion—spears and swords went up. His golden souls all rushed to thwart the attack. But none were faster than a god.

  Alan could feel the very wind of the ever-changing portal, the point of the silver tip headed straight for his heart growing in his view.

  Fss!

  He clapped the blade, dispelling the intense bouts of Red Saro shoving the blade closer.

  “The god-ender.” Alan gritted his teeth.

  “So close.” Jaeger cackled. “My snakes do wonders for exposing my enemies, Alan. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Alan gritted his teeth, realizing his near unlimited strength was failing against the golem wielding the sword.

  His golden souls attacked as one—Durger’s axe, Trio’s staff, swords poking through the golem, but with a mighty spin, it slashed Alan’s hands and tossed all the souls back.

  “Another god bleeds.”

  Alan looked at his hands, where Variant liquid Saro leaked onto the ground. His energy drained faster than when he merged the realms. The god-ender is real…

  He peered up at the golem that he now realized was a Figro—like the idol he won for defeating Hendra back when. It was harboring a soul… Could it be a part of Hyndole’s?

  The statue strutted up to him as the black portal expanded at its back, and endless troops marched forward with a Dreamcatcher at the center, holding up a projection of Jaeger’s pointed face towering over all.

  Just as the frogs prophesized.

  “It was only a matter of time, Alan.” Jaeger’s eyes widened.

  Alan grasped his sword once more, commanding his new invulnerable ability to activate.

  “Go, Durger. Obtain the sword.”

  The golden-outlined souls all recovered with resplendent skin and charged at lightning speeds to attack the golem.

  Alan was completely incapacitated while the ability was active, so he’d have to rely on them to claim the gothic blade.

  Clang! Crsh!

  Durger’s axe met the gothic sword in a bright clash, only for the golem to press the palm of its hand against Durger’s breastplate and, with a burst of Saro, sent him flying back. Trio came next, only for the golem to use another White pulse of airy Saro to force him flying.

  It was a smart move. Somehow the golem understood they were indestructible, so he used force instead to separate them.

  Alan’s hands and feet were literally glued to the ground. Everything became hopeless in that moment. The Horde’s confused soldiers charged without their hand leading them. Alan was down. His indestructible souls flew back like wisps in the wind, all while Jaeger’s sinister face bore down on them, relishing in his glory.

  The weight of it all pressed against Alan, mentally amplifying his helpless state. Those emotional inhibitors were proving a detriment in protecting his people.

  The first godly version of himself wouldn’t hesitate to crush all of his enemies. He needed that strength back.

  He needed to abandon his humanity… otherwise more would die.

  Like Irana. Like the rest of the Fate Chasers who’d sacrificed so much already.

  Betrayal—Trish, Lucius. Sacrifice. Darkness. His thoughts flourished like a whirlwind as he rewound his Soul Collector’s spell and rose to his feet. All of the souls converged back to the sword at once, and Alan’s eyes flashed gold as his hands continued to leak Saro.

  The golem slashed and backhanded Horde soldiers high into the air, enraging Alan to no end. The darkness pooled, challenging all of his decisions to act as a force of good.

  Soldiers dove for the god-ender sword, only to be stuck with it. They gave their lives valiantly while Itsy and Roland fought to break from Flint’s icy grasp. Jaeger laughed at them all.

  No more.

  Alan leapt, closing his wounds with Yellow Saro wraps that he formed into a set of fist-weapons. The Red Pact soldiers all gaped as he descended to the center of their ranks and landed right in front of the Dreamcatcher holding up the projection of Jaeger with his Saro net.

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  The whole battle stopped for an instant in time, until a mighty left hook into the Dreamcatcher’s jaw snapped his neck and left his body crumpled at Alan’s feet.

  Jaeger’s face fell like sand, and when twenty spears lunged to impale the god of Token, a bright pulse of White Saro froze them all in place, followed by a three-sixty of Purple Saro nets gathering all of the entombed enemies that he swooped and hurled through the portal with a mighty heave.

  “Flint, the portal!” Alan bellowed, eyeing the golem being overwhelmed by horde soldiers. “Shut it quickly! Do not let him escape!”

  The golem flexed and pushed the next wave of soldiers off him, swiping away Wizard spells and ripping Doomsayer curses from the ground using the sword. Despite the chaos, the Royal Horde stayed true to the cause, rushing the golem to overwhelm it.

  Capture the god-ender.

  Alan used his Patrol-possession ability to summon Gardstrife to his location. The broadcast was received loud and clear—Alan could feel the fervor in his guard. The suit of armor transmogrified into a coin and was flung halfway around the realm, only to transform again fifty feet away in racer’s position.

  Flint whacked a Red Pact soldier over the head and slid on his knees toward the portal, waving his staff in figure eights to freeze the gate at the tips.

  “Aho! For the alliance!” Flint gritted his teeth while shielding his eyes, unleashing blinding waves of White to combat the opposing magic. Soldiers froze mid-entrance, halting the invasion.

  The golem turned at the deafening sound, his attention grabbed, all while Alan smacked away incoming enemy Stalkers, twisting limbs and cracking armor with the flick of his wrist.

  “Flint! Behind you!” Alan yelled.

  Just as the golem raised his gothic blade to cut down the Wizard—

  Sssroo!

  Gardstrife sliced through the golem as a golden blur, sending slabs of cracked stone flying in all directions, the gothic sword flipping uselessly in the air.

  Alan’s instinct was to run for the sword, but a flash of Jaeger’s smiling face told him it was a trap. He needed a non-god to wield it, just in case.

  “Grab the sword!” Alan shouted.

  With tears in her eyes, Itsy finally broke from Flint’s hold. She scoffed at her frozen brother and summoned a mound of Gray Saro stone under her feet that sprung her to intercept.

  Alan held up his fist as a row of Orange magma spells came clawing in his direction. He unleashed one of his Pearls to form as an icy Helldraken he’d witnessed on his way to Hutten Fie. It roared out cool mist that reduced the spells to dust.

  He waved through the fog in time to see Itsy grab the gothic blade—her smile triumphantly wide.

  That’s a goddamn win.

  “Aha, great show, my dear. I knew you’d come to your senses!” Flint shouted as he nearly finished freezing the portal shut.

  She landed, testing the blade in her grasp. “This thing ain’t so bad.” She twirled it and brandished it high. “For the Unlikely Guds!” She pointed to her brother. “Now, put that snaky Healer in jail before I cleave ’em with it.”

  Something told Alan to blink into Saro vision. A hunch. Something. And when he did, Black corrupted Saro screeched so loud from the sword, Alan had to turn away. Its corrosive ichor seeped into Itsy as the hilt exhaled black steam.

  “Itsy, drop the blade!” Alan dashed forward, using his godly Red Saro to dash, but when he grasped for her wrist, she blinked away into a shade and reformed next to Flint.

  “Did you miss me, Alan?” Hyndole’s voice came out of her mouth.

  He realized it wasn’t the golem wielding the blade before, but the blade using the golem. “The fractured soul.”

  “Have you been keeping Trish warm for me?” The gargoyle cackled out of Itsy’s mouth, seeming more unhinged than ever before.

  A vice of old memories clutched his heart as Itsy lifted the blade, her eyes as wild as Alan remembered Hyndole’s to be.

  “Flint!” Alan yelled.

  Why wasn’t the Wizard reacting? Was Hyndole only speaking through the Saro plane?

  “Flint! Move!”

  “Just a second now!” Flint brandished his staff spewing with White Saro. “Almost there!”

  “Mm. This Wizard has always been a bane! I hope you said your goodbyes.” Itsy twirled the blade in position to stab—her arm shaking.

  Even if Alan summoned golden lightning from the sky it wouldn’t be fast enough, but he had to try. A split-second maneuver. Something!

  He mentally called upon Gardstrife again—the fastest entity he knew.

  “Go. Slice her leg. Do not kill!” Alan pleaded as he accumulated every inch of Yellow Saro he had in this eternal moment. High angels, defenders of the heavens. Give me strength!

  Krcht!

  Sssroo!

  It all happened at once. The bolt of lightning, the blur of Gardstrife, the thrusting of Itsy’s sword-arm.

  Alan shivered when he heard the sound of blade through flesh. He blinked back to normal vision to see a man in robes impaled… but not Flint.

  Roland knelt with his hands around the mighty sword… the sharp edge stuck out his back. His eyes were wet, as were his sister’s. “I’ve lived with it for too long, Itsy. Shed no tears for me. All of the Green Saro I’ve harbored did nothing for the guilt.”

  Healing Saro swirled around the wound, fighting to get in, to no avail. It was as he prophesized—a direct stab through the heart.

  Her face contorted to cry, but Beige Saro markings overwhelmed her face, flattening her expression.

  “By the god’s bane, Itsy.” Flint leapt to his feet in horror. “What have you done?”

  She fell to her knees with two slices across her calves, followed by an explosive blast from Gardstrife’s fissures that ripped the sword out of Roland’s chest and sent the two siblings tumbling over one another.

  Alan covered his face as he walked tentatively up to them, then stopped in his tracks when Itsy extended one hand over her dying brother’s chest. Her pained eyes spoke volumes. Had she overcome Hyndole’s claim?

  But when the cry turned into a wicked smile, as Roland’s Green Saro vacuumed through her arm and down her legs… he realized what was happening. Hyndole was a Dreamcatcher, a thief of Saro.

  Alan dissolved into a shade and swerved to detain her. He’d have to risk taking a blow from the god-ender. There had been too much loss already.

  Fssh!

  She leapt to her feet in a three-sixty, forcing Alan and Flint swerving back.

  “Gosfor’s hand and a god’s blood,” Hyndole’s voice blared through Itsy as she dashed for the frozen portal. “Not a bad start.”

  She sliced through the frozen bodies stuck mid-portal, thawing the magic into its normal Black flow and slipping through.

  Alan reformed opposite Flint. “The gargoyle’s fractured soul.”

  “A nasty magic, Alan. Even for him.” Flint held his hat in dismay.

  Boom!

  The entire realm shook. Another opening somewhere far away.

  Seeing Roland’s lifeless eyes sprawled near the portal reminded Alan of more failure, as did the warriors—enemy and friendly—that perished on his land, some by his own hand.

  “My dear, dear Itsy.” Flint bent to his knees, staring at one of her dirty footprints.

  “We’ll get her back,” Alan assured.

  “I’m not sure one comes back from Hyndole’s corruption.” Flint rose to his feet. “Look at Trish.”

  “They aren’t the same. She made her own choice. I’ve seen it.” He dropped a hand on Flint’s shoulder. “Itsy is nothing like her.”

  Flint nodded. “We must take stock in what we’ve gained in this battle.”

  “The god-ender,” Alan said. “And Jaeger’s mode of attack.”

  “Precisely.”

  Alan swung to the remaining soldiers, dousing them with a blanket of Green Saro to revitalize. “Spread the word, warriors. Jaeger attacks your past. Do not succumb.”

  “Hoo!” Royal Horde Knights banged their shields.

  “Guard this gate with your lives.” Alan spun and closed his eyes.

  Alan Broadcast:

  Flint and I encountered Hyndole’s second form. He is the god-ender gothic blade, and Itsy is possessed as its wielder. She is to be captured alive! All gods are to remain unseen until the blade is in our custody. I’ve been cut by it, and the wounds do not close.

  All warriors, beware, Jaeger uses historic connections from his enemies’ past to disrupt ranks. Do not succumb, or the universe is lost!

  Alan opened his eyes to another prompt in his vision:

  Lady Orevella Broadcast:

  The next invasion is in Hutten Fie! All troops to north quadrant Sellus!

  Alliance, hear this message—the portal swirls from the sky. Aerial reinforcements requested.

  Alan held up Ara’s feather while summoning Ufanda as a coin flipping through the realm. “Gardstrife, I thank you for your speed. Please remain here to defend the Horde.”

  “It will be done, Noble Alan.”

  “Flint, with me.” Alan caught Ufanda’s coin.

  With steadfast determination Alan had never seen in Flint, he stepped up beside him, waiting deadpan for Alan’s transport to arrive.

  Amid thunderous caws, the chariot swerved to swoop them up through a flash of ethereal magic. Once the chairs phased into solid matter, Alan held onto Flint so he wouldn’t whiplash off and then soared high, heading north to the border of Token and Hutten Fie.

  With his arms folded, Flint’s eyes swirled into icy orbs. The storm livened within him, creating powerful slipstreams that sent the gryphon escorts even faster through the realm.

  “Hm. Ho. How much will the Red Pact take?” Flint growled.

  “Perhaps I can end this, Flint, if I command my old self back into a cage,” Alan said.

  “Then Jaeger would have already won.” Flint clenched his jaw. “I saw you nearly lose yourself back there when you crushed the Dreamcatcher to death. My heart sank to see it, as it does to see Itsy stab her own brother. War in this universe is messy. But we must remain who we are. Of that, I am certain. Ho.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes as they crossed into a darkening sky, considering his friend’s words. “Are you prepared for whatever Jaeger has in store for you? As hand to Mujungo, he will surely try.”

  “My past is a tragic one of little connection.” Flint peered at Alan seriously. “I’m the strongest soldier you have against deception.”

  Alan shook his head. “Then that’s why he goes for your present.”

  Flint growled again, snowflakes falling from his hair.

  “You finally found someone to match your zaniness. I’ll take a god-ender to the heart before I let that slip away,” Alan said.

  “You are a good god and a better man, Alan. I will always remember.”

  They soared past the discolored realm divider and into the dark red sky of Hutten Fie. The environment was sullied by Lady Orevella’s dismay. Once-lavish patterns of buildings swirled into defensive teepees overlaid with Gray and Black Saro. Palaces turned to dark citadels. Alan didn’t even know this kind of alteration could be achieved merely by a god’s mood.

  Even Alan’s golden armor turned obsidian. Yet Flint remained the same.

  Red lightning streaked overhead.

  “It’s approaching.” Alan could feel the disturbance as he left Token and assumed Hutten Fie’s essence.

  “It’s all becoming clear.” Flint looked over the chariot ledge.

  “What is?” Alan said.

  “Don’t you remember?” Flint turned back to him. “Your very first days of your second life.”

  Alan’s eyes widened. His mind cleared like a parting storm. “The frogs showed this too.”

  “And we worried you were the evil one.” Flint smirked.

  “It’s just like the first battle against Hyndole…” Alan gaped as a giant, slow-twisting cloud funneled from the sky.

  A vast field of one hundred thousand soldiers stood in groups, Saro-boxed ranks to combat whatever was to come out—each revving their Saro elements. He slowed the chariot atop a massive citadel with skeletal dragons and ogres perched over the balcony, where Orevella’s gloves zoomed every which way to direct the army.

  “This is all from the vision. Which means the army summoning through that portal…”

  “Is your father’s,” Flint said. “By the darken braids of foul Raha, Alan. You’ve broadcasted your warnings, but are you ready to heed them?”

  Alan narrowed his eyes, glancing at the skeletal dragon roaring at the portal far ahead, then to Hutten Fie’s mighty ranks below. The visual blended exactly with the frogs’ vision, like he was living out a nightmare. Thinking of Flint’s question… was he ready to follow his own advice?

  “I am,” he assured, fulfilling the vision by leaping atop the dragon and pressing a Variant Saro hand over its bony neck.

  The dragon dipped its head and flattened its back, accepting Alan as its rider. Tapping into the beast’s past just by peering at one of its bones—it was an elemental shifter. Its Saro molded with the environment, so he took the memories of each form and shoved them into his Pearls in a flash.

  He then peered back at Flint summoning an icy sled over the balcony. “I’ve seen you perform some incredible feats, old friend.” Alan pointed to the sky. “Though this might take the cake.”

  Flint sighed. “I will do all I can to close it, good Alan. Just beware of the god-ender.”

  “Goading it is my advantage. If we can isolate Hyndole, then the other gods can assist elsewhere,” Alan said.

  “How do you know they don’t have multiple?” Flint asked.

  “I don’t. Sometimes we have to play the odds.”

  “Aho! More of a gambler’s words than a Merchant’s.” Flint arced an eyebrow.

  The portal funneled into a thin tornado-like tail that clawed for the ground, causing Orevella’s ranks to fidget.

  Alan had an idea of what was coming, and he’d have to lead this charge. He called Yogi from deep within Token, holding his hand up to receive the coin, and as soon as he caught it, commanded the skeletal dragon to leap from its perch.

  The ogres and other dark minions roared over the balcony, then leapt to the deep depths to follow. Orevella’s army tensed as her minions sprinted past the ranks. These were her generals captured from all over Ojin… minions that hadn’t been summoned to battle likely since the old war. The realm of ultimate defense would be put to the test…

  Alan flexed, activating all his godly Saro to empower the army he soared past. They all raised their spears to cheer him, and he in turn acknowledged them through the dragon’s enormous ribcage.

  “For the alliance!” Alan roared, commanding the dragon to dip as it spread its rickety wings outward.

  As the dragon clawed down at the head of the front lines, Alan flipped out two coins.

  Ufanda circled him in tattered crimson robes to match the mood. “OooooOo. This is an intimidating gate.”

  “I’ll need you on air defense, Ufanda.”

  Boom! Boom!

  Yogi stomped out with crimson ethereal skin and black pauldrons. “Noble Alan. This is them, isn’t it? The full might of the Red Pact.”

  “Make your mother proud, Yogi.” Alan nodded.

  As gold lightning swarmed around the budding gate, a bright-winged figure emerged. Ten feet tall, two-sets of connecting angelic wings, and a double-bladed staff in each hand.

  A battle angel, like the ones he’d been imagining to call Yellow Saro.

  The enemy took its first confident steps forward, and when he cleared the black cloud, Alan saw him.

  As Jaeger promised…

  As the frogs prophesized way back when…

  His father.