Interlude 3.36 [Nal-Serath]

The frontline was dying in droves.

Serath watched it happen through a thousand borrowed eyes as his warriors were falling in coordinated waves, cut down by enemies that moved with a precision no Depth Dweller should possess. The horde pressed forward in perfect synchronization, exploiting gaps before they even fully formed, flanking positions that should have been secure, targeting the command structure with an accuracy that spoke of intimate knowledge of Kovrath tactics. Every weakness the Fold's defenses had ever possessed, every blind spot Serath had spent decades teaching his warriors to compensate for, the enemy knew them all.

And he still couldn't tell what they were trying to accomplish.

The question gnawed at him even as he fought. The Depth Dwellers weren't pushing toward the civilian shelters. They weren't making for the sacred shrines. They were killing, yes, but their movements lacked a strategic objective he could identify. It was like the assault itself was a distraction, a cover for something else, but every time he tried to trace the threads of fate toward their true purpose, they slipped away into static.

His head tore off.

Serath had seen it happen two seconds before it did, the spatial blade forming in the air where his skull would be, the precise angle of the cut, the brief, disorienting view of his own headless body from a perspective that no longer belonged to him. He moved before the vision completed. The space where his neck had been shredded itself apart a heartbeat later, and he was already elsewhere, already casting, already layering an explosion trap beneath the ground where he'd been standing.

The detonation bloomed behind him.

His ability, one of the many gifts of his divination class, allowed him to project his consciousness seconds into the future. Not far. But in combat, seconds were everything. He saw the death coming before it arrived, and he simply... chose not to be there when it did. It was what allowed him to face three Gold Core demigods simultaneously while still coordinating the entire Kovrath army through the command link. What allowed a non-combat class to survive against opponents who should have torn him apart in moments.

The space where he'd dodged tore open again. The Metal demigod lunged through the dust of Serath's own explosion, a gigantic spear in his hands, his skeletal silver form gleaming with that terrible hunting-light. The explosion hadn't even finished dissipating before the creature was through it. He was relentless and single-minded, his mark was already crawling up Serath's spine.

Serath wove through it all. Gracefully. His body moved, guided by futures that hadn't happened yet. The space blades that would have bisected him passed through empty air. The metal spear that would have pinned him to the ground found only stone. The creeping rot of the Nature demigod's domain, the scent of death, the spores that seeded in mana channels, the vines that reacted to his very intent, all clung to him but never quite caught him. He was always a half-second ahead and a half-step to the left of where death expected him to be.

And he retaliated wherever he could. A precisely placed Light explosion trap that forced the Space demigod to divert his shielding. A thrust of sacred energy infused spells that caught the Metal one's flank. A moment of opening that allowed Skethis to strike.

Skethis fought beside him like an extension of his own will. The Seventh Elder's ability, to change his form on the fly, assuming the abilities, class, and appearance of anyone below his tier, was already formidable on its own. Combined with Serath's deep insight into every being on the battlefield, his ability to read their fates and understand their capabilities at a glance, the two of them became something far more dangerous. Skethis shifted between forms with fluid, seamless precision, one moment a hulking warrior with exceptional strength, the next a nimble spellcaster exploiting an elemental weakness Serath had glimpsed two seconds into the future. He was the perfect weapon guided by the perfect eye.

But even perfection had limits.

They, the three demigods, for all their coordination and all their complementary paths and their hive-minded army, were incapable of truly hunting a diviner like Serath fuelled by the sacred energy. He could see their attacks before they launched them. He could see the patterns in their coordination, the gaps in their supposedly perfect synchronization. The Water Leviathan had turned them into extensions of her will, but that very efficiency made them predictable to someone who could read the shape of the future itself. True chaos would have been harder to counter. The old Depth Dwellers, who used to mindless, frenzied and suicidally aggressive would have been harder to counter. There was no pattern in madness. No thread to follow when every action was random and utterly without strategy.

This? This was almost easier in comparison.

But "almost" was not "enough."

Serath could see the exact second he would be overwhelmed. It sat in his future like a wall of darkness and it was only growing closer with every passing moment. The three demigods weren't tiring and the army wasn't breaking. And he was, after all, a single man. A single Gold Core against three of equal rank, backed by an endless tide of soldiers who felt no fear and knew no hesitation. It was not a fair fight.

He glimpsed the battlefield through the eyes of thousands of his kin and watched multiple futures vanish as their bearers died. The threads of fate that connected him to each of them snapped one by one, each loss a small death in his mind. The casualties were accelerating. What had been a slow bleed was becoming a hemorrhage. He had lost another elder just moments ago, felt the command link go dark where her presence had been, and with it, an entire battalion lost cohesion and crumbled.

He had one rule. One absolute, inviolable rule: he would have no suicidal sacrifice. Every warrior was precious for him. He had spent his entire leadership refusing to trade lives for time, refusing to accept the cold calculus that said some must die so others could live.

But even his rules were starting to bend under the weight of reality.

Hot and helpless anger surged through him as another elder fell. Then another. Within the hour, he had lost two more. Three elders left, out of seven. The army's coordination was fraying at the edges, gaps were opening in their formations that the Depth Dwellers exploited with mechanical precision. Serath watched with numb eyes as more and more of his people were slaughtered, their futures winking out like candles in a storm.

And above it all, the Heavenly Leviathan watched.

She hovered there, suspended in the air above the carnage, in a form that reminded Serath a bit too much of the Vrathis. Her chin rested on her hand. Her expression was patient. Like she was waiting for something. For what?

She hadn't contributed a single thing to the battle. Hadn't lifted a claw. Hadn't whispered a word of guidance. A being of incomprehensible power, far beyond anything happening below, a creature to whom this entire war must look like squabbling toddlers, and she simply watched her people die.

Serath had known she was never their ally. Not truly. But he had still hoped. Foolishly, desperately hoped that familiarity might matter to her cold heart. They were her people, in a way.

And yet she just watched. As more and more of them died.

A scream of indignation nearly tore itself from his throat. He swallowed it, barely and kept fighting, dodging, weaving, retaliating, trying to hold the crumbling line together with sheer desperate will—

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A massive spear tore through Skethis's torso.

Serath moved before the scream finished leaving his Seventh's throat. The ground beneath Skethis split open, Serath's magic yanking him downward and away from the killing blow. Healing energy flooded through the command link, sacred power knitting flesh and bone back together with frantic speed but the wound refused to fully close. The Metal demigod's mark lingered in the injury, a hunter's curse that resisted healing, however powerful, and Serath could feel Skethis's life force leaking out through the gaps.

Something in him finally broke.

"HOW LONG ARE YOU JUST GOING TO WAIT UP THERE AND WATCH US ALL GET SLAUGHTERED?!"

The raw scream tore out of him directed at the heavens. At the Heavenly Leviathan. At the being who had supposedly stayed with them for millennia and now did nothing while they were exterminated.

She wasn't there anymore.

Serath's heart froze. His head turned slowly, the combat precognition which was screaming had gone silent, which in itself was terrifying and then he found a face beside him. It was too long and too wrong. Features elongated and distorted in ways his mind refused to fully register, proportions that didn't belong in any reality he understood, eyes that held depths within depths within depths—

Pressure crushed the battlefield. Terrible, crushing pressure descending from somewhere beyond the world, pressing down on his soul like a boot on an insect. The attacks coming at him froze mid-motion. The Depth Dwellers, even the mind-controlled ones, even the ones who felt no fear, stopped dead in their tracks, paralyzed by a primal terror that bypassed thought entirely and spoke directly to the oldest parts of their hindbrains.

Serath felt death coming for him. Felt it closer than it had ever been, closer than the spatial blades or the metal spears or the creeping rot. This was like a force of nature briefly remembering he existed and considering whether he was worth the effort of extinguishing.

Then it was gone.

The Heavenly Leviathan's form snapped back to normal proportions, the Vrathi shape, the too-innocent expression, the playful tilt of her head. She stuck her tongue out and rapped her knuckles gently against her own skull in a gesture of apology.

"I wasn't supposed to do that. I'm so sorry." Her voice was light, almost sing-song. "See, that's what would happen if I were to interfere, you silly goober. My non-interference is the kindest gift I could ever bestow. You lot thrash so beautifully when left to your own devices. My absence is practically a benediction. Hmhm. You're welcome!"

Skethis gulped a breath that sounded more like a sob. His body was still shaking, the primal terror slowly releasing its grip on his muscles. Serath could feel his own hands trembling, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape his chest.

But he couldn't stop himself. The words came out before he could think better of them. He had nothing left to lose, after all. There was no light at the end of this tunnel.

"But... why... is this happening?" His voice cracked. "I could have sworn the Water Leviathan was after you. Did you somehow mess with my abilities?"

The Heavenly Leviathan's grin widened. Her rainbow eyes glittered with something that might have been delight.

"Is that your question?"

Serath swallowed. The rule. One question asked one price paid. And you never knew what she would ask for in return, what task, what truth, what terrible bargain she would demand. But what could be the worst thing she could ask? His life? It was already forfeit. His dignity? Like that even mattered anymore. He had nothing left that she could threaten him with.

"Yes," he said.

She clapped her hands together, the sound echoing over the noise of the frozen battlefield.

"Marvelous! I'll be magnanimous and treat your verbal flailing as a single query. A bulk discount, woo hoo! Don't say I never spoil you!" She placed a finger on her chin in an exaggerated gesture of thought. "Let's see. She was actually after me in a way, yes. But she was after you lot too. After all, you're killing her army. Why do you think she would just let you all go without converting some of you first?" Her grin sharpened at the edges. "And no, I didn't mess with your abilities. In fact, I helped you see the truth. Her protections are good, but they're not perfect. Not against me. I just... nudged the threads a little and made them clearer. You saw what you needed to see."

Serath's mind raced. …Converting them? Replenishing her army? The Water Leviathan wasn't just here for the Heavenly Leviathan? The cue immediately triggered his ability and he glimpsed into fate once more and his eyes widened.

She was here for the Kovraths themselves too, broken and reshaped into extensions of her will, just like the Depth Dwellers had been!

"What... what does the Water Leviathan need an army for?" The question slipped out before he could stop it. "What is she planning?"

"Ooh, you prude. One at a time." The Heavenly Leviathan waggled a finger at him. "And you already have one thing due for your earlier question. So. Ready to pay the price?"

"Name it," he said immediately.

The battlefield was still frozen.

There was just pure, animalistic terror, radiating outward from the spot where the Heavenly Leviathan had briefly let her true nature slip. Every combatant stood paralyzed, watching with wide eyes and hammering hearts. So no more attacks came.

The Heavenly Leviathan, utterly oblivious to, or perhaps utterly delighted by the frozen terror she'd inflicted on the battlefield, reached into... somewhere. Her hand disappeared into a fold of space that wasn't there, rummaged around for a moment, and emerged holding a piece of meat on a plate.

It was iridescent. Gleaming with the same shifting hues as her eyes and feathers. And the moment it appeared, an intense, almost overwhelming and strange aroma hit Serath's nostrils.

"Tell me how it tastes," she said.

Serath stared at the meat and then stared at her. His brain, already running on fumes took a moment to process the request.

"What the hell is this?"

Her eyes narrowed into pleased slits, "Is that your next question? Because I will charge you double for the tonal whiplash."

"No," he said quickly.

"Then bite. I crafted it for my beloved master and I cannot serve her a half-baked disaster! You're my palate, my prophet, my little canary in the coal mine. Go on. Tell me if it sings."

Serath was baffled. But he had no choice.

So he took a bite.

His eyes widened. The taste hit him like a physical force. It was so intense, overwhelming and almost too complex for his palate to even begin parsing. It was rich and spicy and sweet and savory all at once, layered with flavours that didn't exist in any cuisine he knew, and it burned going down his throat. He coughed, his eyes watering, and then—

His sacred energy reserves detonated.

The single bite flooded his core with so much sacred energy that he almost thought his body would burst apart. His channels, already strained from hours of combat, blazed with power so dense it felt like his very soul had been overinflated. He gasped, clutching his chest as he frantically vented the excess energy before it tore through him.

Somehow, it stabilized. Barely though.

What the fuck had he just eaten?

He looked at the Heavenly Leviathan. His eyes dropped to her form, the Vrathi shape, the feathered wings, the too-long limbs. And the place where her tail should have been.

There was no tail.

It didn't take divination powers to piece two and two together.

"Did I just eat a piece of your tail?" The words fell out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

She pouted and waggled a finger at him. "Answer before you ask, you incorrigible wretch!” Then the pout dissolved into a grin as her eyes gleamed. "But yes. With a touch of smoked paprika and a bit of cilantro. I'm not a savage."

Serath's mouth worked soundlessly for a bit.

"It's... a bit intense," he eventually managed. "I don't think it was made for my tastebuds."

"Oh, marvelous! Then it's absolutely perfect." She beamed, satisfied.

That was very much not what he'd meant. But he didn't open his mouth again. He had learned that arguing with the Heavenly Leviathan was like arguing with a hurricane. It would be one sided and technically possible, but the hurricane was going to do whatever it wanted regardless.

But seemed like there was no need as a sound cut through the frozen battlefield.

Every head turned simultaneously. All of them were unified for one brief moment.

The golden obelisk, the one where the young golden dragon had been sealed a week ago, was cracking.

A massive fissure split its surface from base to apex, golden light bleeding through the wound. The cracks spread and then the entire structure crumbled to pieces.

Dust billowed outward. And through it, a head emerged.

Draconic and golden-scaled. Swirling violet eyes that swept across the frozen battlefield.

Another terrible pressure descended upon the battlefield. She felt... different from the last time Serath had seen her.

The Heavenly Leviathan suddenly squeaked.

Serath had never heard a sound like that from her. Had never imagined she was capable of a sound like that. It was high-pitched, flustered, almost... girlish. Her rainbow eyes went wide, her cheeks flushed with a colour that might have been embarrassment, and she snatched the plate of tail-meat back from his hand so fast it left an afterimage.

That was the last thing Serath saw before she vanished. The battlefield stayed frozen for one more second.

Then the golden dragon in the ruins of the obelisk let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the stones beneath their feet.

And chaos descended once more.