My shield fell to the stone floor with a dull thud, followed by my spear. I pulled out the compass and brought it closer. The moment I stepped forward, my hand jerked my palm passed through her magical barrier and touched her skin.
"You forgot something," I said. "I won't serve anyone ever again."
My entire will crashed down on her with a single purpose.
*
Abilities:
Equilibrium (Active) — When activated, no matter how powerful the target is, your strength is equalized. Irreversibly reduces all of the target's attributes by 80%. All active abilities are blocked, and their will is restricted.
*
This idea had lived in my mind for a long time. The only way to break Demeter free from her grip… was to take away Hecate's ability to harm her. I didn't think the price would be the loss of my own power. The attributes were lost forever. A terrible price but I saw no other way.
"What did you do to me?" Hecate gasped, collapsing to the ground.
The world trembled. The house began to distort, its walls melting and losing shape.
"You were a goddess. Now feel what it means to be human," I said coldly.
"Fool! Everything around you was held together by my power. You've doomed not just me, but yourself as well!" she screamed in despair.
"I know," I exhaled as I fell to the floor, watching as the curse swiftly devoured me, draining my life. I couldn't move sharp backlash, the total loss of all abilities, had given the curse full dominion. I lay nearly motionless on the cold floor. My will would not obey like it no longer existed.
"No! I'll kill you with my own hands! Why couldn't you just keep slaying gods on your path?! Enough of this age of idiots, born with gifts! They never earned their strength. Magic is the true future of this world!"
She rose. With trembling fingers, she picked up my spear.
"You've ruined too many of my plans… everything ends. Today, so do you. You think you've stripped me of my power? My true strength is knowledge. In just a few days, magic will flow through me again."
She raised the spear high and with fury drove it into my chest. Blood gushed from my mouth. She leaned over, still gripping the shaft, and looked into my eyes. Her face held a triumphant smile.
My kick to her knee sent her crashing forward. Her body slammed into the spear, and the tip pierced her throat.
"You talk too much," I rasped, spitting blood.
I shoved her body off me along with the spear. Willpower was rapidly returning to my body, bringing faint relief enough for me to move and rise to my knees. Picking up the spear, I leaned on it and slowly stood up.
The world around me was beginning to vanish. The house looked like a torn canvas its pieces unraveling, and the space beyond dissolving into nothing.
The curse had reached my heart. I could feel it my time was almost up. It was consuming me. The damage was beyond repair, and even the willpower returning to me couldn't stop it.
I raised the compass. The needle quivered and pointed the way to Demeter.
Walking through the collapsing house, I began descending the stone steps. Darkness engulfed me completely, and only in the heart of the underground did I see Diana, bound in chains.
"Damocles…" she whispered.
I didn't reply. I stepped forward in silence, gripped my spear with both hands, and with a single strike shattered her bonds. The chains fell to the stone floor with a clang as I collapsed to my knees, leaning on the cold ground. My breathing grew shallow organ by organ, my body was shutting down. I fell, no longer able to move.
Demeter anxiously sat down beside me.
"Won't you tell me your name?" I asked weakly with a faint smile.
"Demeter," she said softly. "I'm sure you've already guessed."
She took my hand in hers.
"I'm sorry… I don't know how to break the curse," she added, her voice trembling.
"It's all right. Sooner or later, it would've killed me anyway," I answered.
The skin on my body began to peel away, revealing muscle and bone. Flesh was dying, relentlessly.
"You can't die like this," she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes.
"My will… will live on. The compass will help find the way back," I said my final words.
Darkness engulfed me. Everything vanished. I almost felt death's cold fingers brush against me.
A familiar feeling.
*Kar*
********************************
Tears streamed down Demeter's cheeks. She mourned the fallen Damocles most of his body had vanished into nothingness. All she had managed to preserve was a small fragment of his flesh, held together by her power.
The Curse of Gyges scattered with the wind, its purpose fulfilled. Demeter gathered what remained of Damocles his weapons, his armor, and the compass. Opening the lid of the device, she instinctively understood how to use it. The needle trembled and pointed the way, opening a path between worlds. When she stepped through, she found herself in her own garden.
Only among familiar surroundings did she allow her emotions to surface. Tears ran down her cheeks once more. Gently, she laid Damocles' body on the ground and ran her fingers over his helmet.
She had never imagined anyone could find a place in her heart the way he had. In her captivity, all she had hoped for was that he would come and save her. And he did giving his life for her.
With a touch of magic, she parted the earth and placed his body upon soft grass that sprouted in an instant. His spear lay beside him. His shield rested above a final protection. As she sealed the grave, vines brought forth a stone, upon which she carved his name: Damocles.
Demeter placed her palm on the stone and simply sat beside it. Unable to leave.
A day passed… perhaps two. She had stopped counting.
Even her garden responded to her grief leaves began to wilt, the grass withered, flowers lost their color. The world around her seemed to mourn with her.
How long she remained at his grave, no one knew. But one day, gathering what little will she had left, she rose. Around the grave, brilliant yellow flowers bloomed a living memory of him.
She walked away slowly, glancing over her shoulder as if hoping he would return. That death would not hold him. But no miracle came.
Moments later, another figure appeared at the grave. Clad in bronze and sandals, ever-young and swift Hermes. He stood in silence, eyes fixed on the earth.
"You never rose," he said quietly. "Have you truly died?"
He knelt, placing his hand on the soil.
"No. You can fool the others, but not me. I didn't find your soul in the Underworld. Which means… it's still out there."
With those words, Hermes vanished into the air.
The world continued to turn. The magic that had empowered many human sorcerers began to fade. Hecate, the one who once ruled secrets, spells, and the ways between realms, was gone. And with her, the very fabric of magic withered. The paths between worlds became nearly inaccessible as if the cosmos itself was closing in.
Yet a month later, magic stirred once more. As powerful as ever. The paths reopened.
No one could explain this phenomenon. Hecate was dead.
So who had inherited her dominion and power?
Sparta, two years after conquering Messenia, had grown stronger than ever. An army fifteen thousand strong, disciplined and battle-hardened, stood ready to flood the lands with blood in pursuit of further conquest. Their fleet, mightier than ever, dominated the sea now ruled by the Spartan banner.
And nothing seemed capable of stopping Sparta's new warlord Kratos.
The polis needed resources: timber, metals, and other materials. Their gaze turned northward, to the lands of the barbarians people far removed from Greek civilization, without even a written language.
Sparta's fleet, led by its new commander, sailed for the north.
At the same time, the god of war, Ares, laid plans to conquer all of Hellas. He hoped that, upon returning home, Kratos' armies would become his unstoppable force.
Deep within the caves of the Spartan polis, hidden from all eyes, a secret council took place.
"Is everyone here?" asked an elderly voice from the darkness.
"Yes. Should we hide our faces?" asked a tense young voice.
"We must. We can't hide from the gods as thoroughly as we wish," replied the elder.
"What lies ahead?" the young voice asked again.
"Archidamus, King of Sparta. I suspect he's fallen under Ares' influence. His actions grow more erratic, bordering on mindless cruelty. I remember the start of his reign he was just, ambitious, a true reformer. But now… the changes are too drastic. And all so quickly."
"That's blasphemy! Ares is our patron!" the young one retorted sharply.
"Isn't it time Sparta became a power in its own right?" the old man said firmly. "We've followed others long enough."
"Olympus won't forgive us. They'll destroy us if Ares doesn't first," said another voice, hoarse and weary.
A heavy silence fell.
"I have a plan," the first voice whispered. All heads turned toward it.
The silence deepened. And then, his voice continued. As they listened, one thought emerged among them:
Perhaps it wasn't madness after all.