“I surrender,” Glory said.

“”Huh?”” John and Rave voiced their confusion in unison. “”Huh?!”” They repeated the unified noise when they checked the window and it informed them that Gaia was happy with this outcome.

There was a point there, the same point Glory acknowledged from horseback. There were him, Rave, the elementals, Ehtra, Metra, Hailey, Momo, and even AM. All of them had encircled the lone rider together, ready to pounce on him.

Only a few minutes had eloped between the start of the fight and now. Aclysia and the three other contestants had entered the maw of the gargantuan obsidian skull. At that point, the mental connection with Aclysia had gotten that fuzziness of a large distance. He could not communicate with her anymore. Her teleportation spell was still on cooldown, so that was slightly worrying. However, the Emergency Stasis was still there. If she was taken out, her core would be teleported to his inventory.

On their side, they had followed Glory. The Horseman had obviously noticed, not like a group their size could be stealthy. They had struck the moment the rider had turned to get off the red road. At that point, Metra had revealed herself, and all had readied themselves to collapse on Glory all at once.

Zelos yawned and turned his horse to face the Gamer. Golden, ethereal hands scratched the equally ghostly neck. The wraith stretched. “Let me explain something to you, little man,” Glory spoke.

“”Careful,”” Ehtra and Metra growled in unison, then growled again when he dismissed them both with a wave.

“If you attack, I will see it as a slight against honour. You cannot kill me, my Lord makes sure of it, but I can kill a few of you.” Even John was not prideful enough to divulge that he did have a way to kill immortality just to prove the haughty rider wrong. “Do you know what my ability is?”

“I have to confess that I don’t,” the Gamer answered. “Care to enlighten me?”

“To enlighten you was always the White Wanderer’s goal, resistant as you are to his pristine lessons,” Glory kept on waffling. “You have a good head on your shoulders, right?” The radiant rider looked at something in the air, then nonchalantly turned away. John followed the Horseman on foot. Their pace matched. “Think about it,” he continued. “The Grim Reaper chose the titles for a reason. Why call me ‘Glory’ if my powers are time and space?”

“So, your powers are linked to your reputation?” the Gamer thought.

“It’s more esoteric than that.” The leaves of the dense jungle rustled around them. “It is my reputation, my status on a given battlefield, and any hierarchy I am part of. There is a reason why I was unknown in life. My true value was only discovered in death. It takes the keen eye of a lord to find such a dependable and powerful subject such as I.” Glory sighed, as if he was sick of his own magnificence. “Alas, here I am, cursed to be the right hand of the greatest of the gods.”

“So, space and time magic are just a manifestation of your powers?” the Gamer wondered.

“Indeed. I have an arsenal of spells that I learned over time. What I can wield at any given opportunity is related to what I believe will make me win at that time. In other words, if I don’t think I can win a fight…”

“You become more dangerous than anyone should mess with,” the Gamer concluded.

Zelos smirked, doubtlessly pleased that John had come to the correct conclusion immediately. If Glory’s power had been at their weakest when he felt he could not win, then that would have been the pleasant outcome. In their current power bracket, it was always best to assume that their equals had the most busted versions of their power.

“Indeed, the more I believe a loss may be inevitable, the more my powers will attempt to make it not so,” Zelos specified. “For I am Glory, leader of the Four Horsemen, Grand-Marshal of Death, and defeat shall not find me readily. But, between the two of us…” Glory whispered conspiratorially, “…I am not actually invincible.”

“Which brings me to my next question,” the Gamer began.

“Why do ya tell us all of this?” Rave finished for him. “What’s your angle?”

Zelos glanced around, all joviality suddenly drained from his face. He sat upright in his saddle, stiff and observing. “You know what we are inside of, right?”

“A Sanctum,” the Gamer affirmed. “An odd one at that. Impossibly vast, with many entrances.”

Glory opened his mouth. Plastic rustled. The Horseman turned to face the pariah, struggling to pull a bag of crisps open. There was an absurd amount of displeasure on her face. The plastic did not yield, until it suddenly did, sending several of the thin potato snacks flying upwards. Nia caught each of them with her mouth.

“Look what the discussion dragged in,” Ehtra sneered. “You’ve been making yourself rare, recently.”

“I had axolotls to pet,” Nia answered. “Want some?”

“Metal.”

“Oh. Right.” The pariah moved the open bag towards Sylph, who zapped over and immediately started munching on a handful. Halfway up to petting Sylph, the blonde realized she had spice dust all over her fingers. She shook it off, her pariah status making the usual stickiness a non-factor, but acted too slow to touch the fluffy bunny ears. She was left frozen and frowning.

Salamander and Undine reached, in turn, into the bag of crisps that was on offer. Gnome was last, coming in only after Nia shook the bag a few times to entice her, as if she was a shy fawn getting offered treats.

“Do not attack her,” John said.

The words snapped Glory out of his daze. He shook his head and averted his gaze from the pariah. “I have that self-control,” the rider stated, but the statement lacked the usual bravado. “Why is she here?”

“It cannot see me,” Nia answered the question. “The god. Whoever it is. Speak truthfully now.”

Glory cleared his ephemeral throat. “I do not believe Huitzilopochtli will honour his deal with my Lord and Master. I equally do not believe that the truth of the matter ends with the god of sacrifice.”

Ehtra leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed. “You think we might need to work together.”

“The Grim Reaper wishes to educate you on the importance of boundaries, as he very well should,” Glory answered simply. “As his man in the field, I will have to make the executive decision to postpone your punishment if we come to blows with the owner of this Sanctum.”

“Fighting a god in their Sanctum is already incredibly dangerous. This one had several hundred years to prepare,” John agreed and nodded. “I assume this alliance you suggest only comes into effect after we have finished dealing with the seals?”

“Of course – the rules of the game were clear: no alliances.” Glory gazed off into the distance. “We do not often get to cut loose, why diminish a time of worthy battles? It should be said…” he returned his attention to the Gamer, “that I draw an essential part of my powers from my direct subordinates.”

“Famine will be returned to you, when it comes to that,” the Gamer assured. “Honestly, I would be open to giving him back right now, but I can’t get him over in a simple way.”

“Ah, so you have wisely decided that you can trust the wisdom of the Lord of the Necropolis?”

The Gamer shrugged. “That is one way to put it. I trust that he does not wish Lorelei harm. Or, rather, I trust Lorelei and she has assured me as much.”

“Regardless, you believe that it is my right to have my subordinate returned to me?”

The tone Glory asked that in, not to mention the smirk, made John weary of answering. He had a hunch of what would happen next and prepared the inhabitants of the plane accordingly. “Yes,” he finally said.

Zelos circled his wrist, then launched the banner that had manifested in that hand towards the sky. His body turned into a streak of golden light, then slowed down. One signal to Lee to lower the strength of her ward was enough to change that state of affairs.

“Hello there,” the Creator Puppet greeted Glory, after he slammed down next to the banner. “I find that particular ability a lot more concerning than what else you have shown so far.”

“Ironically, I call it Glory Road,” Zelos joked. “It takes me to where my purpose need be fulfilled.”

“No!” Famine shouted from within the plane. “No, don’t let him in here! I just started the Return of the King!”

“Has he not watched that before?” John asked.

“He has, he is being dramatic.” Zelos stomped up the stairs and bowed his head in respect at the hastily clothed women. “I do not condone your lifestyle, but I do respect your choices,” the Horseman stated, then picked up Famine. The half-nourished head of the vampiric rider sat in front of a laptop, the webcam adjusted to have eye tracking. “Insatiable misses you.”

“That damned horse can not feed itself for a while,” Famine barked back. “Can you at least hold me more respectfully?”

Zelos kept the pale rider dangling by his grey hair. “Respect is earned, as our Lord likes to say.”

Famine rolled his eyes so hard he swayed left to right. Meanwhile, Lee watched the scene with crossed arms. “Can you get out before all the hot and humid air sweeps in? We got a nice thing going here.”

“A brazen one… you’re Magoi’s daughter?” Zelos asked.

Lee half-cocked her head, something less than surprised but more than expecting. “You know my dad?”

“In a sense. I knew Gehnigm well, so we saw each other once or twice. Alas, that fool died for a terrible cause and now I am here to warn you not to do the same – all shall know the sweet embrace of Death!” Glory laughed, all too aware of the double-meaning and headed for the exit. Once he had hopped back into the saddle, he grabbed the banner and once more launched it to the sky.

One body watched the rider leave, the other body watched the rider arrive fifty metres off their current location. John could only assume that Nia’s presence was introducing a margin of error to his aim. They swiftly found Zelos again.

That they did so seemed to puzzle the rider somewhat. “Is there something else you need from me? Besides my wonderful attention.”

“I could be listening to Aragorn instead, inside, away from natural… light…” Sunrays that fell through the canopies fell on Famine’s dangling head, swiftly burning the gathered vitality out of him. “Get… me… out of here… ass!” The rider coughed.

“Your punishment is due, old friend,” Glory announced and lifted him a little higher. “This is but a minor discomfort. By the blessing of our Master, you shall survive.”

‘It does look like a minor discomfort,’ John had to agree. Past the wrinkling and slouching of Famine’s rapidly aging skin, the exposure to the sun seemed to be like having hot air blast in the vampire’s face. Not the preferred way to be, but not that bad.

“Then what else could you desire from me?” Glory asked. “We both will be busy as soon as our subordinates pass their trial.”

“That is what I wanted to ask.” John parted his hands in a disarming gesture. “Since you are so above me, you wouldn’t mind telling me what War’s special power is, would you? I could guess, but that’s not a narrow category.”

“He’s our smith,” Glory answered readily.

John blinked a couple of times. That had been on the list, but it had been a fair bit down the way. “His armaments are in a terrible state,” he commented.

“A philosophical difference. Ares believes all armaments deserve to be carried until they break.”

“Come… on….” Famine coughed and was finally moved into relative shade. “I keep… my tongue… for so long and…””

“Mrrreeow?”

All attention shifted to the birdcat that tapped out from the nearby trees. Velka took one short look at the situation then rapidly ran towards Nia. With open arms, the large chimera was received, toppling the lithe blonde in her enthusiasm. Far from minding, Nia covered every part of the Magryph that she could reach with pats and scratches. Velka purred the entire time.

“…You absolutely horrendous passenger!” John resisted the urge to grab the Magryph by the ear. One glance at Glory made clear that the rider had not meant to take a passenger along. He seemed just as confused on how that had happened as the Gamer was, but then again neither of them was truly flabbergasted. “Fucking cats.”

“Quite.” Zelos cleared his throat. “War is our smith. However, he only forges when he hears ‘the call’. Sometimes that is straightforward and he makes an armament when inspiration strikes him. At other times, swords he made before and pushed to the brink of durability will tell him what they require to be of further power. Weapons made by War are the greatest in the world, you see.”

“Bullshit,” Metra stated. The First of Wrath had been quietly pouting the entire time, but she would not let Rex Magnar slander stand. “They’re in the Top 5 at best.” Rex Magnar roared in agreement.

“…Okay, that is pretty sweet,” Glory relented. “If War had the same materials, doubtlessly he could create something even greater! His weapons evolve, you know? They are like muscles that require exercise, growing and changing as they meet challenges! Ares is a true genius of the forge, he has personally equipped all of our legions.”

“And he heard the call, hmm?” John wondered.

“Think our Aclysia is about to get a new weapon?” Rave asked.

“That could be it,” the Gamer agreed. “Or she could be in for a nasty surprise.”

Only time would tell.