The war table was a slab of blackened stone, stained with old blood and newer strategy. At its center stood Vexa, arms crossed, her voice sharp but steady.
"He's being held in the coliseum beneath the Black Spine," she said. "East wall, guarded day and night. They've moved the prisoners to the inner sanctum—too deep for any normal breach."
Lucio leaned over the map, brow furrowed. "How many guards?"
"At least fifty on rotation. Plus, whatever monsters Kieros keeps in the pits."
Nathan shifted, arms folded. "And Jalen?"
"They've made him a spectacle. He's fought nearly every day for the past week. No powers. No sleep. No food worth eating."
Kullen's eyes darkened. "They're trying to break him."
Vexa didn't blink. "If they haven't already."
A long silence followed.
Then Lucio straightened. "So we break in. Cut through them. Bring him out."
"We can't all go charging in," Kullen said. "If Kieros sees us all coming, he'll kill Jalen before we get close."
"Then we divide," Vexa said. "One of us goes in for the extraction. Another draws Kieros' attention."
"And the rest?" Nathan asked.
Before she could answer, a horn blew across the ridge.
Not from Kieros.
From the west.
The group turned, weapons raised—until they saw them.
Riders cresting the hill. Soldiers armored in silver and black. Banners bearing the emblem of Everlock whipping in the wind.
At the head rode Kuromi—stoic, unbothered. And beside her, flame dancing in her palms, rode Rhea.
Lucio's eyes widened. "You've gotta be kidding me…"
Kuromi dismounted first. "Kullen. Your letter was late."
Kullen grinned. "Had to make it dramatic."
Rhea slid from her horse and rushed toward Lucio, eyes scanning the group. "Where's—"
Lucio gently shook his head.
Her fists clenched. "Then let's get him."
Behind them, Everlock's army formed into position—disciplined, focused, and ready to march.
They weren't here to liberate land.
They were here to bring their friend home.
Back at the coliseum…
The cell was dark.
Still.
Until Jalen's head slowly lifted.
His eyes were sunken. His body was wrecked. But he felt it—something beyond stone and blood.
Something familiar.
He closed his eyes, and in the distance… he sensed her.
Rhea.
And beside her—Kuromi's fire. Lucio's rhythm. Nathan's pulse. Kullen's mind.
Jalen exhaled, long and low.
A smile crept across his face—ragged, wild, and unbreakable.
The guards shifted uneasily.
"What's so funny?" one of them muttered.
Jalen didn't answer. He just looked at his arms, scarred and bruised—and whispered an old word.
Three glyphs ignited.
One on Lucio's arm.
One on Nathan's.
One on Kullen's.
Burning with gold and violet light, like a beacon.
A message only they would understand.
"Come get me."
Back at camp, the three of them winced in unison, clutching their arms as the old glyphs flared to life.
Lucio blinked. "That son of a bitch…"
Nathan grinned. "He's still in there."
Kullen stared toward the setting sun, eyes resolute.
"…Then so are we."
Morning broke red over the war-stained hills.
The air was thick with tension as the group gathered at the base of a jagged ridge overlooking the coliseum. Smoke rose in lazy spirals from its spires, and the sound of drums echoed through the canyon like a pulse.
They didn't have time for second thoughts.
Kullen stood at the front, the Everlock banner fluttering behind him. Kuromi at his side, sword drawn, eyes fixed on the horizon.
He turned to the army—three hundred strong. Hardened veterans, fresh-faced recruits, and a handful of magic-wielders with silver threading their cloaks. Not one of them looked away.
"You know why we're here," Kullen began, voice steady. "This isn't conquest. This isn't vengeance. This is a rescue."
He let the words settle.
"They've taken someone from us. And we're not going home without him."
A few murmurs of agreement stirred in the ranks.
"Some of you won't make it back. I won't lie about that. But if we break them here—if we crack this god's gates wide open—we give him a shot to walk free."
Kullen raised a fist, his glyph flickering beneath his sleeve.
"We fight. We fall. We rise. But we never leave our own behind."
The army roared in response.
Kuromi smirked. "Not bad, politician."
"Old habit," he muttered.
She rolled her neck. "Let's make it count."
At the rear of the camp, Nathan adjusted the wraps around his arms, time already fluttering faintly around his shoulders. Lucio leaned against a half-crushed boulder, double-checking the rounds in his rifle.
"This is either the smartest or dumbest thing we've ever done," Lucio said, snapping the chamber shut.
"I vote dumbest," Nathan replied.
Lucio smirked. "You ready?"
Nathan's eyes glinted. "Let's go get his attention."
Lucio slung the rifle over his shoulder. "Don't get too carried away. I need time to line up a few shots before you go full time-freak."
Nathan tilted his head. "Same goes to you, ghost boy. Don't vanish mid-fight and leave me babysitting a war god."
They both turned as Rhea and Vexa approached.
Rhea had swapped her robes for light combat armor—Everlock-stitched and enchanted. A small flame flickered over her shoulder, Ember coiled in her scarf. Vexa said nothing, just adjusted the two knives at her belt and checked the hilt of a short sword behind her back.
"You both know the plan?" Kullen asked as he approached.
Rhea nodded. "Get in. Break his chains. Bring him back."
"And if things go bad?" Kuromi asked.
"Then we don't stop moving," Vexa said. "No matter what we see. No matter what we hear."
"Good," Kullen said. "We don't get a second chance."
The group stood in a circle one last time.
Not as gods. Not as soldiers.
But as friends.
Lucio looked around, quiet for once. "We all making it out of this?"
Nathan raised a brow. "You're really asking that now?"
"Just want it said."
Rhea answered first. "I'm not leaving him behind."
"Neither am I," Vexa added.
Kuromi met Lucio's gaze. "Just try not to get captured, dumbass."
He grinned. "No promises."
Kullen stepped back and turned to the army. "Let's move."
The forces of Everlock began to march.
The canyon shook with the rumble of their boots, and the war god's fortress loomed larger with every step. Kieros' arena—once a symbol of fear—now stood at the center of a battlefield.
The throne of bone creaked as Kieros leaned forward.
The sun had barely risen, and already the coliseum roared.
His soldiers lined the upper tiers, armor clanking with every footstep. The lesser gods that still bowed to him whispered among themselves, watching as another body was dragged across the sand, blood pooling beneath the limp form.
And yet… he was not pleased.
Because the man at the center of it all—Jalen—was smiling.
Not the smile of madness.
Not the broken grin of a man who had lost too much.
This smile was sharp.
Cunning.
Defiant.
Jalen dusted blood off his knuckles like it bored him. He cracked his neck. Rolled his shoulders. Then waved at the next opponent like he was greeting a neighbor.
"Come on then. Let's get it over with."
The crowd hesitated. Even they could sense something had changed.
Kieros narrowed his molten eyes.
The chains on Jalen's wrists were still locked. His godhood still sealed. The wounds along his side had not fully healed. And yet, he moved like the pain didn't matter anymore.
It wasn't just rebellion. It was confidence.
Kieros rose from his throne, casting a long shadow across the sand. The arena hushed.
Jalen looked up at him, grinning wider now.
Kieros scowled. "You laugh, mortal?"
"I smile," Jalen called back. "Big difference."
The crowd gasped.
One of the guards stepped forward, flail raised. "Silence, cur—!"
Jalen spun, ducked the blow, and slammed his elbow into the man's ribs. The guard dropped with a grunt, curling around the pain. Another tried to grab him, and Jalen kicked his legs out from under him.
Two down.
Just like that.
He didn't even break a sweat.
"You grow bold," Kieros thundered.
"No," Jalen said, walking in a slow circle. "You just finally gave me a reason to smile."
The crowd murmured.
"Your prisoners?"
"My people."
"And yet you remain caged."
"Not for long."
Jalen stared Kieros down, and a golden glow illuminated his eyes.
Kieros stared for a moment longer, jaw tight.
Then he turned and left the balcony, his cloak whipping behind him.
"Double the guards," he said to the nearest soldier. "And send word to the Spire. We may not be alone."
The soldier hesitated. "My lord, you don't believe he—"
"I believe," Kieros said coldly, "that I am being hunted. Postpone the fights, send him back to his cell, and let us prepare."
Far below, Jalen stood alone again in the center of the arena.
He cracked his knuckles, smiling to himself as his aura began to leak.
"See you soon, guys."