Marcus…
Selene’s voice broke through to him like an iron driven wedge splitting open his skull as all the agony of his thoughts had nearly torn him apart.
“Selene…why are-,” he tried to say but then he looked down at his hands and wondered why he had been acting in such a way.
What could have made him cry and nearly give up all the hard work he’d put up unto that point?
How could he have almost surrendered after all the pain he had endured in this fight?
“What am I doing…?” he asked himself as he pulled himself up to his feet once again and stared back at Moyako with reignited determination.
Upon seeing this, Moyako grit her teeth in frustration and glared at him as she shouted, “WHY?! You were so close! I was so close to getting through to you! Why are you still choosing to fight?!”
He took hold of his sword as he said, “I made a promise to Selene as well to defeat you so that I can move on from my past life. I’m not going to let you intimidate me into giving up so easily.”
“What?! That’s nonsense! I wasn’t… That’s not the point! I just wanted-”
“SILENCE!” he roared, pouring his wrath into his words as he was growing impatient with her.
She tried to open her mouth to speak but the words failed to come out and her expression turned from frustration to something resembling sadness.
“I’ve lost my patience with your excuses, with your apparent desperation to take me back to Terra. Whatever I left behind in my old life is dead to me now. This world is my life now and I won’t have you tearing me away from it!”
A moment of silence passed between them as her expression slowly turned into begrudging acceptance and he allowed her to speak once more.
“Even so… even if you say it is what you want, how will you manage to defeat me while I’m in this form? You have exhausted nearly all your strength and are running on fumes as it is. How will you continue this fight when its taking everything you have just to stand?”
Marcus looked down at his sword and sighed as he knew that she was right.
Manifesting Zeus’s power had taken nearly everything out of him.
He had released enough power during that brief clash to destroy a solar system a thousand times over and it still hadn’t been enough to beat her.
As he looked at the field of flowers around them, he realized that they were an inexhaustible fuel source for her Seraphic state. He had initially thought that all of the soul flowers were being added to her power, but in reality, they were there to keep it going.
He knew that the Seraphic state worked by releasing the gross sum of one’s soul at a continuous rate, which required an external source of energy to refuel.
For Artemis, she drew on the natural energy generated by the moons in the universe.
For Malthael, he drew on naturally existing Arcanence.
Yet for Moyako, Kakure Sakura acted as that fuel source even though he had no idea it could do that.
If he was able to summon enough strength to surpass the gross sum of her soul, then perhaps he could overpower her…, but how could he hope to achieve that?
But then his memories of Hell resurfaced as he remembered being in his Seraphic state for thousands of years just to survive being there.
While in that state, he had felt the chains of hell placed upon his soul being broken.
If that was all it took…
As his plan for victory started to form in his mind, he failed to hide his smile and laughed.
Furrowing her brow, she glared at him and asked, “You’re on the verge of defeat, and yet you’re laughing? Why?”
When he looked back up at her, he said, “I haven’t lost just yet. I’ve got one last trick up my sleep.”
With a wave of his left hand, he stored the Master Bolt away in his body, closes his eyes, and went into a deep state of focus.
He felt around for his own soul and condensed the full weight of his Wrath upon it.
When he could tell that he had a vice, iron grip upon his soul, he opened his eyes and said, “I call upon the fires of Hell to erupt from the earth and claim the soul of this lone sinner.”
Hearing this, Moyako blinked in surprise and confusion as she couldn’t seem to figure out what he was doing.
“I call upon my mother, Hestia, the Goddess of Hell and Hearth to set my soul ablaze. To burn it to cinders, char it to ash, scorch it to a smoldering tinder. Torch my soul with your Hellfire and inflict upon me the greatest agony that Hell can offer upon the most wretched of sinners,” he continued, and not a second later, a plume of fire appeared in the palm of his outstretched hand.
A growing look of panic appeared on Moyako’s face as she realized what he was doing and said, “Marcus, stop! If you burn your soul with Hellfire-”
Yet her words fell on deaf ears as he was too focused to bother with listening to her.
He clenched his left hand around the Hellfire and his fingers clasped around it as it started to spread to the rest of his body.
Excruciating pain flashed across his body, far worse than he remembered from his time in Hell before, yet he endured it as he looked up at Moyako.
Yet he welcomed the pain, and the power that would come with it.
Hestia…
In all the time that had passed since her son had appeared in her realm, she had spent what felt like millennia thinking about him.
Just seeing the kind of man he had grown up to be filled her with so much regret that she hadn’t been there to see every passing moment.
She only wished that she could embrace him in such a manner once again, if only briefly.
Armos, who had been faithfully guarding her chambers ever since Marcus had broken into the Black Castle, noticed her change in mood.
“Lady Hestia...is something wrong?”
“Hmm?”
“You seem troubled. Or perhaps, more troubled than you have been since your son appeared,” he said.
“I just...miss him. I can see my daughter whenever I want to, but my son cannot enter my domain, nor can I approach him without the threat of his annihilation. I just…,” she started to say, but her voice trailed off as she sensed something unusual taking place.
A piece of her power was being manifested into reality without her consent or knowledge.
“What is…?” she muttered as she stood up from her bed as if to try and feel for the presence.
But then, she heard the words of her son calling to her, with every word filled with his Wrath.
At first, she was relieved, grateful even just to hear his voice again, but then dread started to overwhelm her as she realized what he was doing.
“Oh no…,” she muttered.
Seeing the panic on her face, Armos tilted his head in confusion as he tried to ask her a question but she vanished before he could say a word.
With sheer force of will, she focused her attention of Marcus’s presence within her domain. She knew that, for some reason, his soul was Hell, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to find it. All she could sense was the Wrath that he had forced into Hell to manifest her Hellfire.
If he continued to pull strength from her domain, it could potentially destroy him, so she had to cut off his connection.
She then came across what appeared to be a breach in Hell, forced open by his scarlet lightning as it bore a hole into the fields of punishment.
Yet even as she tried to go to find the end of where the lightning was trailing off to, she couldn’t find his soul.
She then tried to take hold of his Wrath to break his connection but was violently rejected as she felt his anger, his rage and blood lust, pour into her with the slightest touch.
It did not frighten her as she knew that she could never fear her son or his power, but understood that it was strong enough to keep her from interfering.
This left only one option left.
To force her way into reality and try to convince him to stop, but without a body, without flesh and blood to contain her spirit, the Reapers would surely appear and attempt to consume her.
She would need to act fast before they could rip her apart.
Within moments, she forced her consciousness and the whole of her spirit to emerge out of Hell and into the living world of Erebus.
She gasped as the sensation of the living realm was so surreal after spending eons in Hell, but before she could enjoy the moment, over a dozen Reapers had already arrived to tear her apart. She looked up at Marcus as he was brimming with power and it seemed that he hadn’t noticed her yet.
Fearing for the little time she had before the Reapers would pounce on her, she lunged towards her son and stood in front of him to get his attention.
As she did, it seemed that his presence was even too terrifying for the Reapers to approach any further as they paced around them, waiting for an opportunity to sink their teeth into her.
“Marcus! My son! Look at me!” she shouted and it took him a moment to realize who he was looking at until she was unavoidable to him.
“Mother? Why are you-?”
“My son! You cannot draw strength from my domain, my Hellfire will destroy your soul! You need to stop this before its too late!” she pleaded with him, and at first, she thought that she had managed to convince him.
Yet his determination did not waver as he steeled himself and stared back at his opponent and said, “I’m aware of the risks, but its necessary. I have to break the chains on my soul if I want to gain further strength. To defeat her.”
She followed his gaze until she looked up at the Seraphim floating in the sky above, and at first, a feeling of fear began to overwhelm her as she thought she understood the threat he was facing.
But then, she remembered that there was only ever one female Seraphim in all creation, and this one was not she.
The appearance of a Seraphim that this woman, who looked so much like her son, took upon herself in this fight between them, reflected the power and lineage of Lucifer and Gabriel at her very nature.
“What is...happening here?” Hestia tried to ask as she looked up at the woman above and the memory of her face resurfaced when she had pulled Marcus out of Hell so long ago.
Son…, isn’t that your daughter? My grandchild? Why are the both of you fighting each other like this?
“I’m putting my all into this fight. I won’t tolerate my defeat, no matter what,” he said as he stepped forward and red light shined from his left eye.
The light of his father, of Lucifer.
Growing desperate for his safety, but knowing that no words would be enough to dissuade him from continuing this fight, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and said, “For whatever reason that you must fight, for whatever goal you need to achieve, I will stay at your side to save your soul. I will not lose my one and only son to Sin.”
And as she kissed the side of his head, she said, “Do not push yourself too far.”
He spoke softly to her as he replied, “This will be over in just a moment. I will not die in this fight, I promise you.”
She wanted to cry for her son, and for the circumstances that lead to such a dreadful ordeal to take place, but all she could do was support him and the goal he set out to achieve.
She placed her spirit within him and with it, the authority over Hell to lend him the strength he wanted as she hoped it would be enough.
But just as she was feeling some amount of comfort in standing by his side, protecting his soul, she felt her spirit being violently ripped from him and tossed aside.
Most of her energy, along with the Authority of Hell, remained in Marcus’s body, yet her spirit and consciousness, had been pushed out.
As she tried to collect herself and identify what had rejected her, she laid her eyes upon a true Seraphim, Azrael, the Angel of Death.
Being too far away from Marcus’s body for his Wrath to drive the Reapers away, they descended upon her and sunk their teeth into her spirit.
Yet she was still strong enough to fend them off as she tried to call out to her son, “Marcus-!”
But her voice went still as she watched Azrael place the edge of a blade against her son’s eyes and slash them.
“Your voice will not reach him. None shall, so long as I have his mind under my command. You will watch as he tears apart his own flesh and blood,” she said to her just as Hestia was pulled into a vast darkness, far from the reach of her son.
She was once again tossed to the ground and found herself next to Ruvick who took one look at the Reapers as they continued to rip into her, and banished them with a wave of his hand.
“Hestia!” he shouted in panic as he tried to help her up, and although she was still angry towards him, she didn’t have it in her to push him away.
Frightened and confused by these events, she asked, “Why is this happening Ruvick?!”
“I don’t know…but for whatever reason, Erebus will not allow us to interfere any further. I tried to put an end to their fight and he trapped me inside this realm. I’m guessing that you were trying the same?”
“I...no. I didn’t know the reasons for their battle, and I didn’t care to ask. I just wanted to keep Marcus’s soul safe before he could destroy himself, but my form was expelled by Azrael,” she explained, and Ruvick grabbed her by the shoulders with panic in his eyes.
“Azrael?! She is possessing him?!” he asked even after he had received his answer.
His voice went still as he let go of Hestia’s spirit and became deep in thought.
He then started muttering as he said, “If Azrael has been possessing Marcus this whole time…, while Lucifer and Cassiel are here…”
“Lucifer is here?!” Hestia asked frantically.
Ruvick looked down at her in silent confirmation, before looking back at Marcus and Moyako as they were about to resume their battle.
“Something horrible is about to take place...or maybe, someone…,” he said as they both watched events play out, unable to change a thing.
Marcus…
With both the Authority of Wrath and Hell at his disposal, he could draw from a bottomless supply of energy to fuel his own power. He then decided to draw on the Arcanence around him and used it to take the brunt of the pain that came with manifesting Hellfire.
He would need all of this power for it to be enough to beat Moyako.
‘Indeed it would be. You will need to push yourself farther than you ever have if you want to crush her,’ a woman’s voice said in his mind. It wasn’t his mother’s voice as he expected, but it was the one that had spoken when Moyako released her Seraphic state.
He didn’t know who this voice was...but for some reason, he felt like he could trust her. Every word that came from her was trustworthy, truly.
Either way, he didn’t care.
All he cared about now was the fight, and now, he was finally prepared to end it.
With his thunderous voice, with every word carrying the will of his wrath, he called out, not just to her, but to everyone present to witness his strength.
“Heed my words, all those who bear witness to my ascension.
I will take no insult of fear or hesitation. No worldly force will halt my blade, no mortal words will stay my sword, and none will be left to argue reason.
With this sword, Death, that I carry in my hands, I will part the oceans, scar the earth, split the clouds, and render creation itself meaningless before my strength.
All those that gaze upon my blade, meet my gaze, and hear my name will know what I am.
Be it mortal man, or foul beast, false gods, or even the angels that rule the heavens.
Upon my visage, and that of my sword, I will strike fear upon all my enemies.
For I am War, Blood, Pain, Cruelty, Death, and Wrath.
I am The End.”
‘That’s it Marcus...draw all the strength that you can to destroy her. To kill her even. Annihilate her.’
The power of Death, Wrath, and Hellfire began to course through him all at once, surging like an unstoppable tsunami of energy.
Tendrils of Deathroot started ripping through his flesh from underneath his skin until it broke through the surface, his bones became Dragon Glass, his Wrathful lightning became his nerves, and his flesh was torn to shreds as it was swept up in the torrent of blood magic that took up the place of his muscles, flowing with such speed and pressure that it could split mountains.
His eyes burst and the blood from them fell from his empty sockets to be replaced by the eyes of a Primordial as he released the power of his Seraphic state.
At the very center of his abdomen, a deep black chasm opened up as a Lambda symbol [Λ] appeared within it, glowing with power.
‘Yes! That’s it! Use this power to defeat her!’ the voice said to him, but it wasn’t enough.
He then raised his left hand to his sword and gripped the handle in a tight grip as he attempted to rip the sword in two.
If he was truly the successor of Dagon, then he needed to look the part, to mirror his image.
Thinking of the statue of Dagon, with dual swords and chains connected to the pommels and wrapping around his arms, he pulled Light Taker apart and created two heavy chained longswords. With this, he invoked the image of Dagon to the masses to manifest even further strength.
But even then, he was not satisfied.
He wouldn’t be until he had shattered the chains on his soul and become undisputed in his place as ‘The Strongest.’
The people of the world witnessed the appearance of Moyako’s power, like that of ashen feathers falling from the heavens, symbolic of her power over Rebirth.
There was a certain calm energy that came with her presence, like the assurance that the next life would be a gentler one.
But then, not shortly after, they would bear witness to the polar opposite of that kind.
Of one so mighty and terrifying, drawing out the base instincts of all living creatures when the call of battle would arise. When one must kill to survive. When anger would consume a person and their Wrath would fall upon their victims.
In contrast to the falling feathers, heavenly in its appearance, an inverse rainfall of blood and lightning appeared all across the world, reflecting its hellish nature, rising up to push back against Rebirth.
As this dreadful event was taking place, the God of Wrath called upon his Authority to break the chains that tied down his strength.
Azrael…
Before she could process what Marcus was about to do next, the sound of chains snapping startled her, nearly breaking her hold on Marcus’s mind as it was taking all of her concentration to keep his memories and deductive reasoning in check.
She could tell that at least a few dozen of the chains tying down his soul to Hell had shattered, but she didn’t feel too concerned over it.
So long as he didn’t over do it, she would retain control.
But then, more than a hundred more chains shattered all at once.
What the-
Another few hundred shattered.
“Marcus-”
Several thousand more shattered, and with them gone, his soul began to grow.
“Marcus stop!” she shouted but her voice failed to reach him as his power grew ever greater.
Frustrated, she turned her blade and her Aspect of Incorporeality on him only for the immense pressure released from his soul to reject her entirely.
No! No no no no! This can’t be happening!
Over a hundred thousand chains shattered and she felt her control over his mind get rejected entirely.
There’s no way he’s conscious of my control over his mind! How is he…?
His authority was so intense that it was pushing back against any force that threatened it, regardless of what it was.
The God of Wrath was becoming too powerful for her to control, yet in spite of that, he was being caught up in the flow of battle as his sense of reasoning was being snuffed out by his lust for battle.
As the chains of Hell, numbering in the billions, continued to shatter as he drew on more and more power, she could only mutter to herself in fear of Marcus, “Father, save us.”