Glory of the Fall Ch. 04

Author's Note: This is it. Prepare yourself... The battle ends, here.

Sorry this one took a little longer, votes as they were, I had a bit of rewriting to do. I'd intended someone else to return.

---

"This is it... We're so close!" The fox announced, shaking with excitement as she looked at the labyrinth, "Ooh! Sooo close! I... I'm going to cum!"

"Gross." Arina sneered, but couldn't deny that she was also affected, though not quite with the spirit of a slut. She could feel the adrenaline, fear and anticipation as they crept in on the final moments of this deciding battle.

The entirety of the future of the living world would be decided here, by people who had no right to dictate the future. They had played their part and died. It should not be on them to see what tomorrow would bring in.

More than that, the move that Arina had made behind the kitsune's back had finally been revealed. She wasn't just some human, blindly groping around where she had no business. She was manipulative as the rest of them.

She was a goddess.

Whether or not Mischief saw it... The kitsune might not care. She might even be proud of the move. Might think it served her in her disgusting efforts to turn the entire world into a single sacrifice, to bring power to chaos that no god had ever held.

All Arina could really do was wait and see.

"You enjoyed Toofy, didn't you?" Mischief looked over with a sparkle in her orange eyes, "Is that why you have always rejected me? Hatred for the one who used your wife as a pawn?"

There was some truth to it.

"I have a husband." Arina gave another half-truth, taking advantage by not fully rejecting the fox.

The fullness of Arina's reasoning for never laying a hand on the goddess was complex. She'd spent most of her life knowing that to touch any other woman was deeply wrong. It had been ingrained into society, and even Toofy's influence was only just beginning to give freedom back to those who were interested in more than the binary.

The catgirl had ignored all of that as her mistress. The future empress having no time for irrelevant things that she didn't believe belonged in the world. Toofy had always been brutally antagonistic towards the things she didn't agree with.

Worshipping the betrayer gods. Loving women. Taking an empire built on the genocide of two races with nothing but a hijacked undead army, and a couple hundred pissed off dragons. Destroying a world economy built on the backs of slavery, without a thought to the consequences.

Arina struggled to believe that Toofy had anything to do with Mischief. She had been a force of nature, in herself. Yet, somehow... The kitsune was right. Without the neko, the betrayer gods would not have been released.

The war would not have resumed.

Chaos had been subtle.

In this moment, here and now, Arina couldn't afford to let the kitsune notice exactly how she'd hijacked this battle for herself. She had taken a lesson from her mistress. Using the enemy to arrange for your goal to become their dreams.

The Golden Kitsune smirked, "I've slept with Death, as well. His dick was not the most impressive of his attributes. You, however... The Traitor Emperor sacrificed almost the entirety of the nekan race. He butchered them, storing power in my Crucible, just to get tantalisingly close to divinity. Took him a lifetime. But you? Without even magic of your own... You became one of the most powerful goddesses."

"I miss Toofy's tongue, more than his... Rod." Arina confessed truthfully, trying to appear self-ashamed. Trying to distract the kitsune from taking the knowledge she'd just spoke aloud and realising the implications for the battle below.

Nine tails flared outwards, and orange eyes lit up excitedly, "Oh...? What's this? You have never confessed to be... Lacking. My Little Death."

"I would hardly call our relationship one that is amicable enough to have such a deeply personal conversation, fox." Arina sneered.

The kitsune grinned and took a couple of playful steps closer to her, before posing with their hands behind their back. The woman swayed on her heels innocently, "Just because we are on opposite sides of the war doesn't mean we can't be friends, Arina. And friendships can often come with unexpected... Benefits."

Arina glared at the woman, trying to play her part. Resisting at first, so that the kitsune wouldn't stop and wonder just which of them was actually playing the other one.

"Benefits like getting hints to what I might be planning." The foxwoman stated, "I do have a painful habit of giving away too much, in... Pillow talk. Is that enough for you to justify taking care of your own needs? To grow a spine?"

"I am well aware that you are... Skilled. You decided to make my wife into your... Plaything." Arina stated coldly, and sighed, "But... I have no desire to watch the blood of the coming battle. I suppose we could... Distract each other."

"Oh, good." The goddess grinned and pounced.

Even as Arina was hitting the... Well, not ground. There wasn't really a ground because they weren't exactly in a strictly physical space. Yet, as she did hit the something, the other woman was already pushing back her black leather dress to get between her legs.

"Leather underwear? Really?" Mischief scoffed.

Arina shrugged, pretending not to be embarrassed, "I like them. Challenge me."

"Always." The kitsune purred, pulling them down to Arina's knees. Completely absorbed in what she was doing, the vixen showed no hesitation as she scooted underneath Arina's dress and towards her womanhood.

Anxiety, no matter how well kept under control, is one of the more effective methods for drying out a woman. Arina was no exception to this rule, mortal or not. The foxwoman chuckled at it, as she began to nuzzle into the black-haired and unkempt bush, her hot breath on the real target.

Convincing Mischief to indulge in this, had been too easy. Arina was almost certain that the goddess was attempting to distract her, as much as she was attempting to distract them. The two of them were playing each other, the winner, unclear.

She felt as manipulated as she had when Toofy had decided to own her, but without the affection that had come with it.

A fox's tongue is long and thin, simultaneously rougher and softer than that of a human's. That was the moist muscle that darted towards the base of Arina's slit. Not penetrating it, just tasting, teasing, at the entrance of the goddess.

The sensation did stir something in her, but she was about as far from an audible moan as she could be. Why had Mischief chosen to go straight for lovemaking without a hint of romance? Not even a kiss?

That was not the skill she had expected from them.

Reality hung in the balance, the fate of the war upon these few moments. Arina widened her legs slightly, hoping to encourage the vixen to put in a little bit more effort. Give her something enjoyable to exaggerate, at least.

This was the one that Luna said was so very dangerous to bed? The neko had been the fox's lover for millennia. She swore that she would never touch the vixen ever again, because to do so was an invitation for complete catastrophe. That Mischief could twist hearts and minds with the lightest of sexual touches.

Arina wasn't seeing it.

Death had spun her tiny little mind, the first time he had touched her. When they'd consummated the marriage of convenience, and affirmed her as his heir. She'd been forced to acknowledge that he was better than Toofy in every way.

She kicked the fox aside with a whine and sat up, "Really? I'm worth nothing more than a doppelganger's attentions?"

"Sssh!" Mischief waved a hand at her dismissively, from where she was standing a few paces away. The nine tails were shaking excitedly, "Meirakeillian has found Kaden!"

"Bitch." Arina muttered, hoiking up her panties and pushing to her feet.

---

The sound of the most thunderous storm would have been quieter than the sound of battle blasting through the labyrinth. The cacophony reflected off the smooth walls in chaotic fashion, making it impossible to tell where or how far away it was.

Kaden sweated as he ducked and rolled, feeling the smoking of the shirt upon his back. He couldn't afford to stop moving for a single moment as the dragon's wrath turned the ground to cobblestone. Whilst he was left scampering around corners, she walked through them with an impossible strength.

An impossible strength, guaranteed to put her at advantage.

The gods had designed this environment. Whilst the dizzying turns of the labyrinth appeared at first blush to favour those who could strategise or memorise, the gods had designed how strong the walls were.

Strong enough to resist the blow of most spells, not so much as scratched by a fireball, and yet somehow weak enough for a salamander to break through them without a care.

This had been set up to appear equal on the surface, to tempt the other gods into involvement. To make them think they had a chance, and so allow the gift of life to one heroic spirit. Something that Kaden didn't believe had ever been gifted before.

Discounting those spirits who sometimes wandered back for the Day of the Dead, just the once. His own moment of return, had been denied, of course. The new goddess of Death had made it clear that she despised him, and would take the first opportunity to legally obliterate his soul.

He was still uncertain of the final goal here. It could be to raise the obviously pre-elected salamander to her renewed life. Or it could be the permanent destruction of Kaden and his fellow competitors. Removing the smallest possibility of their return, for all time.

He flicked a knife off a wall and into her knee, just barely giving himself the space to avoid her claws, diving beneath the salamander and back the way he'd come.

This was a battle of attrition.

Unless he could rebalance the game, he would lose.

---

The blinding light faltered as the axe in Khild's hands jerked to a shuddering stop. The metal notching on bone and sticking into place.

Brilliant blue eyes were the first thing she saw as the light faded from her vision. She smiled through her cracked, burned, and dissolving skin, a moment before tumbling back and to the ground.

Khild didn't have the strength left to groan as she immediately felt pieces of her collapse to burning dust as she hit the labyrinth floor. She'd never feel the justness of a weapon in her hand, again.

"D-dad..." The other woman gasped weakly, "P-please... L-let me... See y-you... Just once..."

"Glorious." The dying orc rumbled, staring sightlessly as she felt her own death creeping upwards. Felt her soul beginning to slip away, drawn towards the centre of the labyrinth. Like the Crucible, life became power. A sacrifice that would resurrect the strongest of them.

"D-dad!" The young human woman begged, before violently coughing enough chunks of blood into the air that they filled Khild's nostrils and offered her nostalgic memories of both her last life, and the paradise of war that she had left behind.

The orc felt no regrets, knowing that paradise was no longer hers, but oblivion.

She had offered the best that she could offer. She had fought against one of Toofy's champions. A woman, part divine, who had magic to call upon that was beyond what Khild had even thought possible. Even in death, the world and its offerings still managed to broaden her horizons.

Her soul would serve to lift the true champion among them, there was honour in this endless death.

She gave her everything, and now death came as a reckoning.

"May..." Khild tried, feeling one of her tusks give up and break free with the motion. "Your... Enemies... Rest beneath... Your blade."

Khild's green eyes closed peacefully, one last time.

---

Kaden pivoted on one foot, spinning to grab the face of the predictable salamander as she charged blindly through another wall towards him. He might lack magic compared to his last life, but he was not without it.

His eyes briefly glowed as he unleashed the catastrophe of a fireball directly into the woman. He understood the resistance of flame that both black and red salamanders might possess, but there is a limit to all resistances.

He was blown clear of the woman by the following detonation. Hitting a wall and wheezing as he felt two of his ribs crack. He didn't pause to see how the dragon had fared, immediately sprinting off again.

The only way to win this, was a combined battle of attrition, and of wit. To stop moving was to provide her with a target. She wasn't demonstrating any flexibility or agility, just yet. Just the will and strength of a berserker.

Such a thing was easy to defeat - assuming that you could stay alive long enough to actually pull it off.

His best bet, at the moment, was actually to drive the draconid into battle with someone else. Assuming that anyone else was still alive in this awful place.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the salamander give a roar of pain and anger.

---

Blood and ash covered the floor of the twisted space, now only weakly pretending to be corporeal as the shadow twisted around the threads. Springing up through the fragile physicalities to take on the role of carrion.

There was little pride in the necessary act, though it might be considered to be something of a mercy to something more predisposed to nostalgic action, than it.

Threads reached out, encompassing and bundling up the thing that still considered itself to be alive. Stubbornly fanning at the flickering flame of its fleeing soul as it tried to reach out to a god that had never begun to care if it lived or died.

A piece of the shadow leaned forward from the mass. Elizabeth's gentle hands caressing the crying face, even as blood poured from the mouth of the dying creature. Little roots spreading out from the cloned form and into the fleshness of this soul, pitying them.

Crushed organs paused upon the brink, lungs re-enflating despite more holes than a tablecloth left forgotten to the moths, in a cupboard. The accident of animation became fully restored.

Elizabeth's visage wiped the grime from their face, and gently kissed the temporarily restored figure upon the forehead. The thing whispered through them to the human girl, "Oh, sweet thing. What finds you in such a place as this?"

The girl thrust her hand into the air, clearly expecting something to happen. Not comprehending that she had already been separated from life, and even now was upon death's doorstep. The shade was merely granting her a moment.

One final moment, before they devoured her pretty little soul.

"Ssh." Elizabeth's body spoke calmly, "If I meant harm, would I have healed you? We are all victims of the gods, here."

"I know you." The girl said angrily, "You had a title. Some lady. Of course you have fucking magic."

"Not in life. I was an alchemist." The remnants of Elizabeth replied with a gentle tinkling laugh. "I was attempting to poison my husband, when I came into the circle of -"

"Toofy." The girl snapped. "All of us, did. Everyone here. We're all connected to Toofy. Call me bitter, but killing us all... I think that fucking cat pissed on another god."

"Quite possibly." Elizabeth laughed, whilst the shadow looked sadly at the growing corruption in the girl. This fascinating thing had been too close to death. The soul that was left, was nothing but a sliver.

Even if the shadow wasn't planning on eating her, the corruption would soon overcome them. The soul would become Eluthei's, were it not destined to join the pyre of the labyrinth.

What she was speaking to was little more than a bad impression of what the woman once was.

She wasn't sure what would be more merciful. To give this girl a taste of joy, or simply to consume her soul and flesh, adding it to her own without ceremony. Of course, mercy was no longer that great of a motivator.

It would be curious to observe the corruption. The darkness swelling up within the pale and pathetic soul, turning it to wrath and hatred in a way that the soul could never have experienced in life.

"I was Liz. Rejected my title, even before Toofy took it from me."

The girl blinked, "You... Survived the war?"

"Until I met the Hooktooth's Daughter." She said with amusement, "That one... Makes our Toofy seem downright reasonable in her wrath. My life ended at the point where lightning joined to the ground."

The girl sneered, flicking her hair, "Lightning? You think that's bad? I was eaten alive by undead. Because of Toofy."

"There's no need for fighting, anymore." The shadow moved the puppet clone of Elizabeth, stroking the woman's cheek. "The gods can't hurt you, anymore. You are free of all that. Free of magic. Of a soul. Your destiny is now your own."

"Free to die." The girl rolled her eyes.

The shadow lapped at her feet, "Yes... If that's what you want."

"I'm dead, already. My father is Time!" She yelled, before grabbing at her chest and groaning. "He saw this... He saw my failure... Disowned me..."

Elizabeth's body fell backwards, the shadow stripping it to pieces and reabsorbing the energy. It spoke quietly, "You may live... In us. The choice... Is... And always will be... Your own. Die. Live. How you fall... Is yours to choose. That is something no god may take from you."

"What... What are you?" The girl stared at the ground, as if finally noticing the ribbons tasting at her ankles.

"I was once Elizabeth de Castelle. I was once Efina, High Priestess. I was once nothing. Now... I am everything. I was once human, and now... I am defined by my will."

"Will it hurt?"

"Are you a virgin?"

The girl flushed, "Uh... Do magic staffs count?"

The shadow laughed and wrapped around her legs, moving upwards. Questing tentacles that were becoming harder to bind to this reality. The more the soul grew, the more separate it was becoming from the power at the heart of everything.

Souls were magic. Not Eluthei's magic... All magic.

Humanity, and all the other races had been crafted for the gods to wage war, had souls. Magic was just the spillover from the soul. A hint to what it meant to be truly alive. Soul or magic, the same thing.

They were pieces, shards, of divinity.

Every living thing had the opportunity to become a god, if it could harness enough of that energy. It was why the Crucible could both spawn a race, and ascend an arrogant fuckwad.

However, at the heart of this labyrinth, where the energy of heroes was being sucked into a void... That wasn't intended to turn anyone or anything into a god. The power of it already exceeded what Orli remembered of the Crucible.

The shadow dove inside the woman, as it continued to eat her memories, expanding its knowledge and being. She gasped loudly as a tentacle, wet and firm, thrust into her delicate womanhood.

It writhed into her, expanding as it grew tiny small suckers to pull and drag at the folds around it. Moving with an intimate knowledge of her, as it remember just how Trician liked to play with her. Coaxing, but without hesitance. Without gentleness.

It felt Orli lighting up, as the woman's knees began to tremble. Other tentacles sliding up her, slipping over her skin, and moving into positions of support. Wrapping around her waist, even as it spread her knees further.

The delicate woman was lifted up and off the floor, gently angled backwards as the infinite tendrils of Eluthei's champion explored her hungrily. Her voice was soft and bright as she emitted her first, "Oh!"

With every flex and pulse of Orli's insides, her fragile magic slipped further away. Her soul lost its grip on the broken flesh, and latched onto the nearest thing, willingly joining into it.

The final bursts of the young woman's nerves screamed out in pleasure, as her flesh failed her, and she joined the larger mass. Her selfness disappearing into the all-encompassing embrace of that which had once been Efina.