Chapter 8: Goren: In the Realm of Gods

  “I don’t like this Viktor guy.” Goren said after Chronos sent the chosen Champion back. “The way he just agreed right off the bat. Too eager. Too…unrealistic.”

  It felt weird to him despite it only being the second Battle he’d assisted Chronos with – not counting the one he’d once fought in himself.

  Back then, Goren had been a participant, chosen as a Champion in a world on the brink, alongside his friend Aidan. Together, they had saved it, and eventually, Chronos offered him a new purpose.

  “Honestly,” Pixelle said with a shrug, pulling Goren out of his thoughts, “I’m glad we’ve got a Champion who isn’t a crying mess on loop one. We’ve got enough problems thanks to Dolos. I don’t want to babysit some emotional wreck too.”

  She glanced at Chronos, who had been quiet and thoughtful since he sent Viktor back to Solvane. “Can we address the literal elephant in the room, though?”

  Chronos nodded. “I know what you’re thinking: Valdemar can’t be an ‘Agent of Darkness’ since Erebus never actually approaches anyone. And since that’s the case, it has to be – “

  “Dolos.” Goren cut in sharply, the thought already crossing his mind earlier.

  Chronos nodded slowly. “Most likely.”

  Dolos. The God of Lies and Deception. An enemy to humanity. A saboteur.

  Once, Dolos had been like Goren, Pixelle, and Balthor – an ex-Champion turned assistant to Chronos. But over time, and after he left, something had changed. Through trickery and deception he was allowed participation in the Battle as an independent party, able to choose his own Champions, and to utilize his own system.

  But unlike Chronos, he didn’t pick his to win.

  No.

  Dolos chose his Champions to disrupt, to cripple Chronos’ efforts and Champions. He helped Erebus not through alliance – but through hate. His goal wasn’t the destruction of worlds. It was the destruction of Chronos.

  Because that was who Dolos was. A resentful man turned God who despised Chronos with every ounce of his being and dedicated his immortal life to destroying him.

  In the Battle that took place two thousand years ago, Goren had actually been Dolos’ pick. But the moment he understood the truth – who Dolos really was – he’d betrayed him, aiding Aidan – Chronos’ Champion. And the rest was history.

  “So, Valdemar is Dolos’ Champion, then…” Pix muttered. “That does make sense considering what we know about his scouting methods, and the way he manages to find a loophole in any of the Divine Rules.”

  Goren groaned audibly. To him, the Divine Rules were as useful as an umbrella in the desert.

  He hated the Divine Rules.

  The short version of the cosmology was this: Erebus existed to consume human worlds he deemed stagnant, devoid of potential. The God of Creation didn’t fully agree with this annihilation protocol, so he created Chronos, a being meant to challenge Erebus’ purge. But the rest of the Celestial Pantheon? They didn’t like that. To them, Erebus was just fulfilling his divine function.

  A compromise was reached: A Battle. Every millennium, when Erebus targeted a world, Chronos could choose one mortal to become its Champion. Humanity would fight for its own survival under the patronage of the God of Time.

  But the gods insisted on rules – strict ones, supposedly.

  No direct interference from Chronos. No divine miracles. No cheating.

  The Déjà vu System and occasional meetings in the Time Realm were the only things Chronos could do to help his Champions.

  Chronos could guide, but never intervene.

  Because the Celestial Pantheon didn’t want humans saved by a god’s will. They wanted to see if humans were worth saving at all.

  In theory, it made…some sense.

  In practice? The rules were garbage.

  And Dolos? He exploited every little loophole. Every clause that wasn’t well-written enough. Sometimes he planted traps centuries before Erebus even arrived, already knowing which world will be next.

  In Goren’s Battle, Dolos had gone too far. They still managed to save the world. But Chronos was forced to appeal to the Celestial Court of Themis, the God of Justice and Divine Arbitration.

  Dolos’ interferences were hurting humanity chances of success. But however vile they were, they fell under a gray area in the Divine Rules. And the fact that Chronos was the one who let him join in the first place – even if because of trickery – only played against them.

  So, for the time being, Dolos was allowed to continue his participation – until a final verdict was reached.

  The problem? The court hearing was taking centuries – literally.

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  “Themis told me privately he plans to hold a vote for a full rewrite of the Divine Rules, parallel to the court hearing.” Chronos said suddenly, addressing Goren’s disdain of the Divine Rules. “But even in his own court, his vote still counts as…a single voice.”

  “We would still need at least five others.” Balthor added.

  Chronos nodded. “And the rest of the gods aren’t exactly fond of humanity like Themis and I are.”

  Pixelle groaned loudly. “Ugh! I hate them all so much.”

  Chronos gave her a weary nod as he rose to his feet. “Regardless of them, we must do our best.”

  “At the court…Did G – “ Goren began, but Chronos cut him off.

  “Aureon? Yes, he was there with me.”

  “That’s not his name, though.” Goren said, slightly annoyed.

  “It is now.” Chronos replied. “Part of his ascension to godhood requires him to relinquish his human name. You know that.”

  “I know, I know…” Goren muttered under his breath.

  “Speaking of Aureon,” Chronos continued, “he should be here any moment.”

  “Really?” Pixelle and Goren said in near unison, growing excited.

  Aureon was actually Dolos’ son, but he was also half-human. Which meant he was their friend. And Chronos student. He had to leave Chronos’ realm nearly a thousand years ago to progress his ascension to godhood, and Goren hadn’t seen since then.

  “He stayed behind,” Chronos explained, “to spy on Dolos.”

  That drew everyone’s attention and curiosity.

  “Spy?” Balthor echoed, stroking his beard.

  Chronos nodded. “Dolos was present in today’s court hearing, together with his…assistant.”

  “Ugh, Cicero.” Balthor’s face twisted with disgust. An unusual reaction from him, but one the rest understood and shared.

  Chronos continued. “Dolos…something was off with him today.”

  “Off how?” Goren asked, immediately alert.

  “He wasn’t using his true form.” Chronos said. “He masked himself with his illusion magic, picking the appearance of the old farmer.”

  Goren frowned. “That’s not unusual for him, though. When I was his Champion, he changed his form every five seconds. The old farmer was his favorite, I think.”

  Chronos gave him a knowing look. “Yes, but that was in private. He’s prideful, Goren. You remember his last appearance here two thousand years ago? He wore his Spartan armor with pride. His real, human form. He’s never hidden himself from the other gods before. That was his trademark. This time, though…”

  “If he’s hiding now…” Goren muttered, piecing it together. “Then something’s changed.”

  “Exactly.” Chronos nodded. “So, Aureon is watching him – quietly. Trying to learn more.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Even Pix looked uneasy. Then, she broke it.

  “Speaking of Dolos – shouldn’t we have told Viktor about him? You know…to warn him?”

  “Yeah,” Goren agreed. “Why didn’t you?”

  Chronos hesitated.

  “I didn’t want to overwhelm him,” he said. “Especially considering…”

  He trailed off.

  “Considering what, Young Master?” Balthor asked softly.

  Chronos let out a breath, then waved his hand. A rift opened in the air, revealing a hazy image of Viktor waking up on a prison cell bench back in Orlinth.

  Then, the projection suddenly flickered, warped, glitched.

  Chronos frowned. “Solvane is a unique world. A wasteland planet with one single city built vertically. Most of the planet’s life is concentrated in a single location. The mana density is…chaotic. It clouds my perception. I can barely observe anything clearly.”

  The assistants exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Too many people crammed together,” Chronos continued, “stacked on top one another. The damn platforms make everything worse. And the mana crystals woven into the infrastructure? They further distort my vision.”

  He waved the projection away. It vanished like smoke.

  “I don’t know how much help we can be to Viktor – not unless I figure out a workaround.”

  Goren’s gaze narrowed. He was the first one to read between the lines.

  “You’re not sure if Valdemar is actually Dolos’ Champion, aren’t you?” He asked.

  Chronos met his eyes – and nodded grimly. “I fear that Dolos knew I wouldn’t be able to see clearly in Solvane, building a trap around the fact. Who knows how long he knew Solvane would be Erebus’ next target?”

  Chronos looked at the ground.

  “I didn’t want Viktor watching for threats even we can’t see coming. It would just confuse him.”

  “Fucking Dolos...” Goren muttered, his hands tightening into fists. There was no end to the hatred he held for him. He turned to Chronos. “But it has to be Valdemar, right?”

  Chronos shrugged. “We cannot know for sure. Valdemar could be someone Dolos prepared as a trap years ago, but not necessarily his Champion.”

  Right then, another ripple tore through the air and Aureon stepped out.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, clad in his knightly armor. It gleamed pure white, like polished marble, with golden seams tracing through the plates. At his side hung his legendary sword, radiating with warm light.

  He held his helm under his left arm. His face, unchanged by time, still looked thirty years old with short black hair and green eyes, with a quiet intensity of someone who’d seen much and lived just as long.

  “Hello, everyone.” Aureon greeted, his tone polite – but his expression was distant, puzzled.

  Pixelle, of course, couldn’t hold it in.

  “WELL??” She blurted, nearly hopping forward. “What did you learn about Dolos??”

  Aureon blinked, then realized from their expressions that they were already caught up.

  He turned toward Chronos.

  “Do you remember that time you told me about Dolos’ travels? After he left your side?” He asked. “Can you tell it again?”

  Chronos gave him a curious look but nodded slowly.

  “Sure. He was searching for a deity – any being powerful enough to revive Arabella, a former Champion of mine who sacrificed herself to save her world from Erebus long ago. He couldn’t accept her death.” He paused before continuing. “He cursed me for not turning back time to save her. He didn’t care about the cost to her world, blinded by his love to her – or rather, to his human wife who Arabella reminded him off.”

  Aureon nodded, confirming the memory.

  “And if I remember correctly, you said he traveled far?” He asked. “I remember you said he spoke with all the gods and deities of the Celestial Pantheon…but I also remember you said he spoke to…demons?”

  Goren stepped forward slightly. He remembered that story too. It was one of the first Chronos ever shared with him after he joined the cause.

  Chronos took a long breath, then spoke.

  “In the Celestial Pantheon, we have gods and deities – major and minor. Each oversees a domain. Even Thanata – Death herself – is a god. Even someone as annihilating as Erebus still counts as a god, because in a way, he governs existence.”

  He glanced toward the horizon, his voice growing colder.

  “But opposite us…there are beings who do not govern. Who do not create. Their only purpose is to sow chaos for the sake of chaos.”

  He looked back at them.

  “Opposite the Divine Realms lies Pandemonium. A realm of raw chaos. It is not a place of order or balance – it exists simply to hurt the structure of creation, and the demons there exist only to unravel everything.”

  “And you’re saying Dolos went there in his searches?” Goren asked, his eyes narrowing. Chronos didn’t share this part in detail before.

  Chronos nodded. “He did. They lied to him. Promised him things they couldn’t grant. Offered false paths to resurrection. Eventually, they destroyed his divine soul, and he became what he is today.”

  His voice turned bitter. “I believe the powers he wields now…the realm he carved for himself…they were all acquired through Pandemonium’s influence. But I have no proof. Nothing Themis would accept.”

  Aureon’s jaw clenched. “Well, maybe you do now.”

  Chronos straightened. “What had you learned?”

  Aureon’s face twisted in visible disgust.

  “It looks like,” he said slowly, “my dear father has grown a pair of horns.”