Gng2
"Secure the walls," Caelan commanded, his voice carrying effortless authority. "Arm everyone who can hold a weapon. Move the children to the underground chambers."
His steel-grey eyes, now glowing faintly with red-orange fire, turned to the former goddesses. "You'll need to defend yourselves. Follow me."
He led them swiftly through the settlement to a squat building of black stone that seemed untouched by time or conflict. The door bore no lock but swung open at Caelan's touch, revealing a chamber lined with weapons of every description—some conventional, others so bizarre they defied categorization.
"The Godsmith's Armory," Caelan explained, moving among the racks with practiced familiarity. "Choose what calls to you. The weapons here are... selective about their wielders."
Tomoe immediately gravitated toward a milk-white katana with veins of red lightning running through its blade. The moment her hand closed around the hilt, the weapon hummed to life, the lightning intensifying.
"Bolt Dancer," Caelan identified it. "Forged from the spine of a lightning dragon. Suitable."
One by one, the others found weapons that resonated with them. Beast Koyanskaya selected a pair of curved daggers that seemed to shift from solid to vapor at random intervals. Space Ereshkigal claimed a spear whose tip constantly shifted between states of matter. Summer Morgan chose an elegant rapier encased in perpetual frost. U-Olga Marie, after some hesitation, took up a staff topped with a crystalline fragment that pulsed with analytical energy.
Female ORT approached a weapon unlike any other—a gauntlet made of the same crystalline material as her own body. When she slipped it on, it melded with her arm, becoming an extension of herself.
Origin Space Ishtar found a bow that fired arrows of cosmic energy, drawn from the fractured sky itself. Void Shiki selected no weapon at all, explaining softly that her "eyes were weapon enough, even without their power."
Tiamat chose a whip made from what appeared to be solidified godrot, controlled and contained within a lattice of golden runes. And Castoria, after much uncertainty, selected a simple staff topped with a fragment of what Caelan identified as Erdtree amber—the last remnant of the divine tree that had once dominated this world.
"These weapons can't replace your lost powers," Caelan warned, "but they'll give you a fighting chance against lesser remnants. Stay together. Protect the vulnerable. I'll deal with the primary threat."
He turned to leave, but Castoria caught his arm—a gesture of familiarity that would have been unthinkable just days earlier.
"Be careful," she said, her teal eyes wide with genuine concern. "Even you aren't invincible."
Something shifted in Caelan's stoic expression—the barest softening around his eyes. "Close enough," he replied, the ghost of a smile touching his lips before vanishing just as quickly.
As he strode from the armory, Beast Koyanskaya sidled up to Castoria with a knowing smirk. "My, my. Making a claim already, little fairy?"
Castoria blushed furiously. "I—I wasn't! I just—"
"Save it for later, ladies," Tomoe interrupted, her warrior's senses already attuned to the approaching danger. "The battle comes."
Outside, Last Grace had transformed from settlement to fortress with practiced efficiency. Settlers manned the walls, godbone weapons gleaming in the strange light. Heldric directed defense preparations, his booming voice carrying confidence despite the grim situation.
"East wall!" someone shouted. "They're coming through the fog!"
The godrot mist beyond the settlement's boundaries was churning now, shapes moving within it—first dozens, then hundreds. The remnants emerged in a nightmarish parade: fractured divine beasts, animated god-corpses, parasitic swarms that had once been lesser deities, and things that defied categorization altogether.
At their center loomed a figure that dwarfed the others—a colossus of fused divine flesh, easily twenty meters tall. Where its head should have been, there was only a swirling vortex of godrot, and its six arms each held weapons made from the compressed essence of dead gods.
"Remnant Convergence," Heldric named it, his confidence faltering slightly. "Never seen one this large before."
Caelan stood alone before the east gate, the Godslayer Greatsword held casually at his side. The blackflame that perpetually smoldered within his Maliketh armor seemed to intensify, wisps of divine-hunting fire curling around him like eager serpents.
"Stay behind the walls," he instructed without turning. "I'll thin their numbers."
With those words, he stepped forward, moving with unhurried confidence toward the advancing horde. The lesser remnants surged forward, sensing divine essence—both from the former goddesses within the settlement and from the concentrated power Caelan himself had absorbed from countless slain gods.
What followed was not a battle but a massacre.
Caelan moved like a force of nature, each swing of his massive sword cleaving through multiple enemies at once. Blackflame erupted in devastating arcs, consuming divine flesh with insatiable hunger. When the horde pressed too closely, he unleashed "Ancient Dragon's Lightning Strike," summoning massive bolts of red-gold lightning that reduced dozens of remnants to ash in an instant.
The settlers watched in awe from the walls, many having never witnessed the full extent of the Ashbrand's power. The former goddesses observed with mixed emotions—respect, fear, gratitude, and something more complex that none were ready to name.
"He's magnificent," Summer Morgan murmured, her cool demeanor cracking at the display of raw power.
"He's death incarnate," Void Shiki corrected, though her pale violet eyes reflected the same fascination.
The lesser remnants fell by the hundreds, unable to withstand Caelan's onslaught. But the colossal Convergence continued its advance, undeterred by the destruction of its smaller companions. Each step shook the earth, godrot mist swirling around it like a living cloak.
Caelan squared his stance as the behemoth approached, his sword blazing brighter with blackflame. "Flame, Grant Me Strength," he intoned, and a red-orange aura surrounded him, enhancing his already incredible physical abilities.
The Convergence struck first, bringing down one of its massive god-weapon arms in a blow that would have flattened a small building. Caelan didn't dodge—he met the attack head-on, his Godslayer Greatsword intercepting the massive weapon with a clash that sent shockwaves across the landscape.
The impact drove Caelan to one knee, the ground beneath him cracking from the force. For a moment, it seemed the god-killer had finally met his match.
Then he pushed back.
With a roar that contained more emotion than anyone had heard from him before, Caelan surged upward, forcing the Convergence's arm back. Blackflame erupted along his sword, racing up the behemoth's limb and consuming divine flesh with ravenous enthusiasm.
The Convergence reeled back, its godrot vortex-head pulsing with what might have been pain. It brought its remaining arms to bear, attacking from multiple angles with devastating force.
Caelan moved like lightning, ducking, rolling, and leaping with impossible agility despite his heavy armor. Where he couldn't avoid, he parried, his sword a blur of motion and flame. Each successful counter left wounds that burned with blackflame, slowly weakening the colossus.
"He can't keep this up indefinitely," U-Olga Marie observed, her analytical mind calculating the energy expenditure involved. "Even at his level, there are limits."
"Then we help him," Tomoe declared, her warrior's spirit refusing to let their protector fight alone. The Bolt Dancer katana hummed with agreement in her grip.
"Are you insane?" Beast Koyanskaya hissed. "That thing would crush us in an instant!"
"Not if we work together," Castoria countered, her fairy queen heritage showing through in her sudden authority. "We may have lost our divinity, but we haven't lost our knowledge or our courage."
The former goddesses exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between beings who had once commanded cosmic power. Then, as one, they moved toward the gate.
"Open the gate!" Tomoe commanded the stunned settlers.
"But the Ashbrand said—" one began.
"The Ashbrand isn't our master," Space Ereshkigal cut in, her spear already glowing with borrowed power. "He's our ally. And allies help each other."
The gate swung open, and the ten women rushed into the battlefield, their godbone weapons gleaming with awakened purpose. They moved as a coordinated unit, centuries of combat experience guiding them despite their reduced capabilities.
Tomoe led the charge, her Bolt Dancer katana trailing red lightning as she sliced through the remnants that had begun to regroup. Beast Koyanskaya flanked her, her vapor daggers finding vulnerabilities with predatory precision. Space Ereshkigal and Origin Space Ishtar provided ranged support, spear thrusts and cosmic arrows keeping the swarm at bay.
Summer Morgan and U-Olga Marie worked in tandem, the frost rapier slowing enemies that the analytical staff then identified for targeted strikes. Female ORT and Void Shiki moved like ghosts through the chaos, the crystalline gauntlet shattering divine essence while Shiki's gaze somehow found and exploited the "death points" of beings that should have been immortal.
Tiamat and Castoria formed the group's core defense, the godrot whip creating a perimeter while the Erdtree staff projected a diluted but effective version of the blessing Caelan had used earlier.
Their coordinated assault carved a path straight to where Caelan still battled the Convergence, now sporting several wounds that leaked not blood but concentrated divine essence—the accumulated power of the gods he had consumed.
He glanced back at their approach, surprise briefly overtaking his stoic features. "I told you to stay behind the walls," he growled, parrying another massive blow.
"You're not the only one who makes decisions around here," Beast Koyanskaya retorted, her slitted eyes gleaming with battle-lust.
"We fight together," Castoria declared, raising her staff. The Erdtree amber at its tip glowed with golden light, and a wave of healing energy washed over Caelan, sealing his wounds.
For a moment, he seemed torn between ordering them back and accepting their help. Then the Convergence attacked again, and practicality won out.
"Circle formation," he commanded, shifting his strategy instantly. "Target the joints and connection points. It's a fusion of multiple divinities—disrupt the bonds between them."
The women moved into position without hesitation, their godbone weapons finding new purpose under Caelan's tactical direction. Together, they began to systematically dismantle the colossal remnant, each focusing on a specific vulnerability while Caelan kept its attention primarily on him.
Tomoe's lightning-infused katana severed tendons of divine flesh. Summer Morgan's frost rapier slowed the behemoth's regeneration. Female ORT's crystalline gauntlet disrupted the harmonic frequencies that held disparate god-parts together. And throughout, Caelan's blackflame burned away the godrot that served as the creature's binding agent.
The Convergence fought with increasing desperation, its attacks becoming wilder and less coordinated as its composite structure began to fail. When it realized it could not win through brute force, it changed tactics.
The godrot vortex at its center suddenly expanded, tendrils of corrupting mist shooting out toward the former goddesses. It had recognized their vulnerability—the lingering divine essence that made them targets for consumption.
"Shield them!" Caelan shouted, abandoning his offensive to place himself between the women and the godrot tendrils.
"Black Flame Ritual!" A circle of divine-hunting fire erupted outward from him, intercepting and consuming the godrot tendrils before they could reach their targets. The defensive spell required intense concentration, leaving him momentarily vulnerable.
The Convergence seized the opportunity, bringing all six arms down in a devastating overhead strike aimed directly at Caelan.
Time seemed to slow as the massive god-weapons descended. Caelan, still maintaining the protective ritual, couldn't defend himself without exposing the others. It was a choice between self-preservation and protection—and he had made his decision.
But the blow never landed.
In a blur of motion, Malacanth descended from above, her obsidian form intercepting the attack. The dragon's six wings splayed outward as she absorbed the impact, her scales cracking under the tremendous force but holding.
"Now, Ashbrand!" she roared. "End this abomination!"
Caelan didn't waste the opportunity. With the women protected by his ritual and the Convergence restrained by Malacanth, he unleashed his ultimate technique.
"Terra Magica," he cast beneath his feet, enhancing his magical potency. "Black Flame Tornado," he continued, spinning to build momentum as blackflame coalesced around his blade. At the apex of his rotation, he leapt impossibly high, his sword held above his head with both hands.
"Comet Azur!"
A beam of pure cosmic energy erupted from his outstretched hand, combining with the blackflame that engulfed his sword. As he descended upon the Convergence, the combined energies formed what could only be described as divine execution made manifest—the Ashbrand Tempest.
His sword cleaved through the Convergence from crown to core, the combined power of blackflame and cosmic energy disrupting and consuming divine essence at an atomic level. The behemoth didn't even have time to react before its composite structure began to unravel, godrot and divine flesh dissolving into motes of rapidly fading light.
Caelan landed in a perfect three-point stance, his sword embedded in the earth before him, blackflame and cosmic energy still writhing around the blade like living things. The remaining lesser remnants, witnessing the destruction of their convergence point, scattered back into the godrot fog, their collective will broken.
For a moment, absolute silence hung over the battlefield. Then the settlers of Last Grace erupted in cheers, their voices carrying relief and exaltation in equal measure.
Caelan rose slowly, his movements betraying a level of exhaustion that the former goddesses had never seen in him before. Despite this, his first concern was for them.
"Are any of you hurt?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over the group with uncharacteristic concern.
"We're fine," Castoria assured him, though all of them showed signs of the battle—torn clothing, minor injuries, and the unmistakable fatigue of unaccustomed physical exertion.
"You should not have left the walls," he said, but there was no anger in his voice—only a strange mixture of resignation and something that might almost have been pride.
"And let you have all the fun?" Beast Koyanskaya replied with a smile that was more genuine than sardonic for once. "Not a chance, Godslayer."
Malacanth approached, her obsidian scales still showing cracks from the Convergence's attack. "Impressive," the dragon commented, her cosmic eyes taking in the former goddesses with new respect. "Perhaps there is more to powerlessness than meets the eye."
"Power takes many forms," Void Shiki observed softly. "Not all of them divine."
Caelan sheathed his sword with practiced ease, though the motion lacked his usual fluid grace. "We should return to the settlement. The remaining remnants will regroup eventually."
As they made their way back to Last Grace, Castoria moved to support Caelan, slipping under his arm when he stumbled slightly. He stiffened at first, unused to physical contact that wasn't combat-related, then gradually relaxed, allowing her to bear a fraction of his weight.
"Thank you," he said quietly, the words clearly unfamiliar on his tongue.
"You're welcome," she replied with a warm smile. "Even gods need help sometimes."
"I'm not a god," he reminded her.
"No," she agreed, her teal eyes meeting his steel-grey ones with unexpected boldness. "You're something far more interesting."
The return to Last Grace was met with celebration unlike anything the former goddesses had witnessed in this world. Settlers lined the streets, cheering and throwing flowers as their defenders passed. Children darted between adults, wide-eyed with admiration. Heldric waited at the gate, beaming with pride and relief.
"The Ashbrand and his divine companions triumph!" he announced, his booming voice carrying across the settlement. "Tonight, we feast in their honor!"
"First, rest," Caelan countered, the slight slump of his shoulders betraying his fatigue. "Everyone needs recovery time."
"Of course, of course," Heldric agreed quickly. "The feast can wait until sunset. Until then, your lodgings await—hot baths, fresh clothes, and soft beds for all."
The mention of baths caught immediate attention from the women, who suddenly became acutely aware of the ash, sweat, and remnant ichor covering them after the battle.
"A bath sounds divine," Summer Morgan declared, her cool demeanor warming at the prospect.
"The most divine thing left in this world," Space Ereshkigal agreed with a tired laugh.
They were led to their assigned building—what had once been a noble's manor, now repurposed for important visitors. The interior was surprisingly well-preserved, with multiple bedrooms surrounding a central bathing chamber fed by underground hot springs.
"The waters here have healing properties," Heldric explained as servants filled the large central pool with steaming water. "A blessing from the dying Erdtree that still lingers."
As the servants departed, leaving the former goddesses to their privacy, an awkward moment ensued. In their own worlds, most of them had been attended by lesser beings, their divine bodies treated with reverence or fear. Here, they were on their own—and suddenly very aware of each other as individuals rather than abstract threats or allies.
"Well," Beast Koyanskaya finally broke the silence, beginning to unfasten her elaborate kimono with practical efficiency, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not waiting for an engraved invitation to get clean."
Her directness broke the tension, and soon the central bath was filled with former goddesses in various states of undress, the steam rising around them like a protective veil. Despite their differences and former rivalries, there was something oddly bonding about the shared vulnerability.
"I never thought I'd be taking a communal bath with the Beast of Calamity," Origin Space Ishtar remarked to Tiamat, who had submerged herself up to her neck, her violet eyes closed in blissful relaxation.
"In my realm, I bathed in the primordial sea," Tiamat replied without opening her eyes. "This is... not entirely dissimilar. Though smaller. And with company."
"Speaking of company," U-Olga Marie said suddenly, "where is our stoic protector? Surely he needs healing as well after that display of power."
"He mentioned checking the perimeter," Tomoe supplied, methodically washing her long silver-white hair. "Making sure no remnants followed us back."
"Always the guardian," Castoria murmured, though a faint blush colored her cheeks at the thought of Caelan joining them.
Beast Koyanskaya noticed the blush and smirked. "I wonder what it would take to crack that stone exterior of his," she mused, stretching languorously in the water. "He's certainly powerful enough to be interesting."
"Are you seriously considering seducing the god-killer?" Summer Morgan asked, one elegant eyebrow raised in amusement.
"Aren't we all, at least a little?" Beast Koyanskaya countered, glancing around the bath. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed how he moves, how he fights. There's a leashed power there that's... intriguing."
Several of the women shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to admit the accuracy of her observation. Even without their divine senses, they could feel the concentrated essence Caelan carried—the absorbed power of countless gods, contained within a mortal form that had long since transcended ordinary humanity.
"He sees us as charges to protect," Void Shiki pointed out, her pale violet eyes thoughtful. "Not as women."
"For now," Beast Koyanskaya replied with a predatory smile. "But even god-killers are still men beneath their armor. And men can be... persuaded to see things differently."
"This conversation is inappropriate," Tomoe declared firmly, though her fierce red eyes betrayed a hint of interest despite her words.
"Is it?" Female ORT spoke up, her crystalline voice resonating strangely in the steam-filled chamber. "In our worlds, we were bound by roles and expectations. Divine duties and cosmic responsibilities. Here, we are simply... ourselves. Free to choose new paths."
A thoughtful silence followed her words. It was true—their arrival in the Lands Between had stripped them of power but also of obligation. For the first time in countless ages, they answered to no one. Belonged to no cosmic hierarchy. Were defined by nothing except their own choices.
"Speaking of choices," Space Ereshkigal said, changing the subject with deliberate casualness, "what happens after we defeat these remnants? Do we stay here? Try to find a way back to our worlds? Build new lives?"
It was a question none of them had fully considered, too preoccupied with immediate survival. The future—once an eternity of divine purpose—now stretched before them as an uncertain road.
"I don't know if returning is possible," U-Olga Marie admitted, her analytical mind having already considered the problem. "The summoning circle that brought us here was ancient and activated by Caelan's blood—blood infused with the essence of this world's gods. Recreating those conditions would be nearly impossible."
"So we're stuck here," Summer Morgan concluded, her cool demeanor slipping to reveal a moment of vulnerability. "In this world of ash and remnants."
"With him," Castoria added softly.
The implication hung in the steam-filled air, unspoken but understood by all. Their fates were now inexorably linked to Caelan Ashbrand's—the god-killer who had become their unlikely protector.
Before the conversation could continue, the door to the bathing chamber suddenly slid open. Caelan stood in the doorway, his armor removed for the first time since they'd met him, wearing only loose trousers that hung low on his hips. His torso was a canvas of scars—some clearly from weapons, others bearing the distinctive patterns of godflame, cosmic energy, and other divine attacks.
For a moment, he seemed not to register the scene before him—ten nude or nearly-nude former goddesses in various states of repose. Then his steel-grey eyes widened slightly, the only indication of his surprise.
"I apologize," he said, his deep voice neutral despite the situation. "I was told the healing waters were available here. I'll return later."
"Wait!" Before anyone could react, Beast Koyanskaya rose from the water with predatory grace, completely unabashed by her nudity. Droplets cascaded down her perfect form as she approached Caelan, her fox tail swishing behind her. "There's plenty of room, Godslayer. And you need healing as much as any of us."
Caelan remained motionless, his expression unreadable as Beast Koyanskaya drew closer. "This is inappropriate," he stated, though he made no move to retreat.
"Only if you make it so," she countered, stopping just short of touching him. "We've fought together. Bled together. Surely we can bathe together without ceremony?"
The other women watched the exchange with varying reactions—embarrassment, amusement, interest, and in a few cases, a hint of jealousy. Whatever divine power had once flowed through them, they were now very much women, with all the complex emotions that entailed.
"Koyanskaya," Tomoe called sharply, maintaining her warrior's dignity despite her own nudity. "You're making our protector uncomfortable. Let him decide without pressure."
"Am I?" Beast Koyanskaya asked, glancing back at Caelan with mischievous eyes. "I don't think I am. I think our stoic god-killer is simply unused to company that doesn't want to kill him or worship him."
Caelan's gaze swept across the bath, taking in each woman in turn. There was nothing lascivious in his look—it was the same tactical assessment he applied to any situation. Finally, his eyes settled on Castoria, whose blush had deepened to crimson.
"What would make you most comfortable?" he asked, the question directed at all of them but somehow feeling as if it were meant specifically for her.
Castoria swallowed hard, then found her fairy queen courage. "You're injured," she said simply. "The waters will help. We can... manage our modesty."
After a moment's consideration, Caelan nodded once. "Very well."
With that, he stepped fully into the bathing chamber, closing the door behind him. He moved to the far end of the large pool where a separate, slightly elevated section formed a natural division. With efficient movements devoid of self-consciousness, he removed his remaining clothing and submerged himself to the shoulders, keeping his back to the women in a concession to propriety.
An awkward silence filled the bathing chamber, broken only by the gentle sound of rippling water. Despite their divine origins and the confidence that came with such power, many of the women found themselves uncharacteristically self-conscious with Caelan's presence.
Beast Koyanskaya, however, seemed to revel in the tension. "So, Godslayer," she called across the pool, "do those scars each represent a deity you've slain, or are some just souvenirs from lesser battles?"
Caelan didn't turn, but his shoulders tensed slightly at the question. "Each scar has its purpose," he replied enigmatically. "Some teach. Some remind."
"And some hurt still, I'd wager," Tiamat observed, her ancient eyes noticing the way certain marks on his back seemed to pulse with residual divine energy. "Some gods don't die quietly, do they?"
"No," Caelan admitted. "The Greater Will's chosen vessel left... echoes. Even now."
"Is that why you don't sleep?" Castoria asked softly. "Because of the pain?"
The question hung in the steam-filled air, more intimate somehow than their shared nudity. Caelan was silent for so long that they thought he might not answer.
"Sleep requires surrender," he finally said, his deep voice barely audible over the water. "I surrendered once. It cost too much."
None pressed him further on the matter, sensing boundaries that even former goddesses shouldn't cross. Instead, the conversation shifted to lighter topics—observations about Last Grace, comparisons between their worlds, and speculations about the feast to come.
As they spoke, something subtle began to shift in the atmosphere. The initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a strange comfort—the shared vulnerability creating an unexpected intimacy that transcended the physical. Even Caelan seemed to relax marginally, his responses becoming slightly less terse, though he maintained his physical distance.
When they finally emerged from the baths, refreshed and healed, they found that the settlers had provided fresh clothing for all—simple but elegant garments that combined practicality with clear artistry.
"They've been working on these since our arrival," U-Olga Marie noted, examining the detailed stitching of her new robe. "The craftsmanship is remarkable for a civilization supposedly in decline."
"Humanity thrives in adaptation," Caelan said, now fully dressed in a simple black tunic and trousers that somehow made him look more approachable than his imposing armor. "When gods die, men build from their bones."
"Poetic," Summer Morgan remarked with a hint of surprise. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."
A ghost of a smile touched Caelan's lips. "I've had time to think on many things. Eternity gives perspective."
Before anyone could comment on this rare glimpse of personality, a knock at the door announced Heldric's arrival. The big man was dressed in his finest—which meant his tattoos were freshly inked and his beard neatly braided with small metal charms.
"The feast awaits!" he declared with characteristic enthusiasm. "All of Last Grace has gathered to honor our saviors!"
The central hall of the settlement had been transformed in their absence. Long tables laden with food filled the space, and hanging lanterns cast a warm glow over everything. The settlers had dressed in their best, creating a festival atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the desolation beyond their walls.
As they entered, a cheer went up from the gathered crowd. Children rushed forward, presenting each of the former goddesses with wreaths of dried flowers and preserved leaves—humble offerings but clearly made with care and reverence.
"Please," Heldric gestured to a raised table at the head of the hall. "The places of honor await you."
The seating arrangement placed Caelan at the center, with the women arranged on either side of him. It was a positioning that would have seemed presumptuous in their divine days—equating them with a mortal, even one as powerful as the Godslayer. Now, it felt appropriate, even natural.
The feast itself was surprisingly sumptuous given the harsh conditions of the Lands Between. Meats from creatures that had adapted to the godrot, vegetables grown in sheltered gardens, and bread made from grain that had mutated to thrive in ash—all prepared with impressive skill.
"This is... quite good," Origin Space Ishtar admitted after cautiously sampling a roasted meat whose origin she decided not to question. "I hadn't expected such flavors in a post-divine world."
"Necessity breeds invention," Caelan replied, eating with the same methodical efficiency he applied to everything else. "When the gods' bounty vanished, humans learned to create their own."
Throughout the meal, settlers approached their table with gestures of respect and gratitude—small gifts, words of thanks, children seeking to touch the "divine companions" for luck. The women received these attentions with varying degrees of grace, some clearly uncomfortable with being treated as objects of reverence once more, others settling easily into familiar roles.
Caelan accepted it all with stoic patience, though his discomfort with being the center of attention was evident in the tension of his shoulders. When a small girl shyly offered him a crude doll made in his likeness—complete with tiny sword and black armor—something remarkable happened.
He smiled. Not the ghost of an expression they'd glimpsed before, but a genuine smile that transformed his severe features into something unexpectedly gentle.
"Thank you," he told the child, accepting the gift with the same reverence he might have shown a powerful artifact. "I'll keep it safe."
The girl beamed, then scampered back to her waiting parents, who bowed deeply to Caelan before returning to their seats.
"Well, well," Beast Koyanskaya murmured, leaning close enough that her fox ears nearly brushed his shoulder. "The stone face cracks at last. Who would have thought it would take a child's toy to accomplish what divine might could not?"
"Children see clearly," Caelan replied, carefully placing the doll inside his tunic. "They haven't learned to fear what they don't understand."
"And is that what the gods did wrong?" Summer Morgan asked, her cool blue eyes studying him with renewed interest. "They feared you instead of understanding you?"
"They feared what I represented," Caelan corrected. "Change. End. The possibility that divinity itself was transient."
"Were they wrong?" Void Shiki asked softly.
Caelan gestured around the hall—at the settlers eating, laughing, living their lives in the shadow of dead gods. "You tell me."
The feast continued late into the night, eventually transitioning into music and dancing as wine flowed freely. The settlers performed traditional dances that told stories of the world before and after the fall of the Erdtree—movements that mimicked both reverence and rebellion.
To everyone's surprise, Tomoe was the first of their group to join the dancing, drawn in by a dance that reminded her of warrior rituals from her own world. Her natural grace made her a perfect partner, and soon other settlers were teaching her their steps while she demonstrated her own.
One by one, the former goddesses were coaxed into participation. Space Ereshkigal and Origin Space Ishtar developed an impromptu cosmic dance that delighted the children. U-Olga Marie initially declined but was eventually persuaded by Heldric himself, whose surprising agility belied his massive frame. Even Female ORT and Tiamat found themselves moving to the music, their otherworldly movements creating new dance forms on the spot.
Summer Morgan partnered with a young man whose reverent handling of the former fairy queen gradually gave way to genuine enjoyment as she proved both skilled and unexpectedly warm. Void Shiki moved at the periphery, her dance more meditation than celebration, yet somehow perfect in its stillness.
Beast Koyanskaya, predictably, dominated the center of the floor, her fox nature reveling in the attention as she performed increasingly elaborate moves that had the settlers cheering and clapping in rhythm. Her slitted eyes occasionally darted to where Caelan remained seated, as if issuing a challenge.
Only Castoria hung back, watching the festivities with a wistful expression. When a particularly lively tune
Only Castoria hung back, watching the festivities with a wistful expression. When a particularly lively tune began, she found herself approached by none other than Caelan himself, who had silently materialized at her side.
"You don't dance?" he asked, his deep voice carrying just enough to be heard over the music.
Castoria startled slightly, still unused to how someone so physically imposing could move with such stealth. "I... it's not that. In Avalon, I danced often. But here..."
"You feel out of place," he finished for her, understanding in his steel-grey eyes.
She nodded, surprised by his perception. "Everything is so different. So... mortal."
Caelan was silent for a moment, watching the dancers with an unreadable expression. Then, in a gesture that shocked everyone who witnessed it, he extended his hand to her.
"Then perhaps we should be out of place together."
Castoria stared at his offered hand, her teal eyes wide with surprise. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her smaller hand in his calloused palm.
The music shifted as they stepped onto the floor—slower, more melodic, as if the musicians sensed the significance of the moment. Caelan moved with unexpected grace for someone who had likely spent more time ending lives than celebrating them. His steps were precise yet flowing, guiding Castoria through movements that somehow bridged the traditions of her world and this one.
"I didn't expect you to know how to dance," she admitted as they turned.
"I've walked many paths," he replied simply. "Not all of them led to battle."
The other former goddesses watched with varying reactions—surprise, amusement, and in some cases, a twinge of something that might have been jealousy. Beast Koyanskaya's fox ears twitched with interest, while Summer Morgan's cool gaze assessed the pair with new calculation.
"Well now," Space Ereshkigal murmured to Origin Space Ishtar, "it seems our stoic protector has preferences after all."
"Or perhaps he simply recognizes kindred spirits," Void Shiki suggested, appearing silently beside them. "They both carry burdens of prophecy. Expected roles they did not choose."
As the dance ended, Castoria found herself closer to Caelan than protocol might dictate, her hand still resting in his. For a brief moment, something flickered in his usually guarded expression—warmth, perhaps even longing—before the familiar mask of purpose returned.
"Thank you," she said softly, reluctantly withdrawing her hand.
He inclined his head slightly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "The pleasure was mine, fairy queen."
The use of her former title—spoken not with reverence or fear but with something almost like affection—brought a blush to Castoria's cheeks. Before she could respond, Beast Koyanskaya appeared at Caelan's elbow, her predatory smile reflecting the challenge in her slitted eyes.
"I believe it's customary to share dances at a feast," she purred, her tail swishing hypnotically behind her. "Unless our godslayer plays favorites?"
Caelan regarded her steadily, no hint of intimidation in his stance despite her provocative tone. "I play nothing, fox goddess. Especially not games."
"All life is a game, Ashbrand," she countered, undeterred. "Some just haven't learned to enjoy it yet."
Something shifted in Caelan's expression—not anger, but a flicker of amusement. "Very well," he said, offering his arm with unexpected formality. "Shall we?"
The dance that followed was nothing like his gentle waltz with Castoria. Beast Koyanskaya moved with deliberate sensuality, testing boundaries with every step. Caelan matched her perfectly, neither retreating from her advances nor encouraging them, maintaining a balance that seemed to both frustrate and intrigue the fox goddess.
"You're quite good at this," she remarked, pressing slightly closer than necessary during a turn. "Keeping control while letting others think they have it."
"And you're quite good at pushing limits without crossing them," he replied, smoothly creating appropriate distance once more. "A predator's instinct."
Beast Koyanskaya laughed, a sound of genuine delight rather than her usual sardonic amusement. "We might understand each other better than I thought, godslayer."
By the time their dance ended, a subtle shift had occurred in the dynamic between them—a mutual respect that hadn't existed before, alongside something more complex that neither seemed ready to acknowledge.
As the night progressed, Caelan found himself partnered with each of the former goddesses in turn—some by their initiation, others at the insistence of the increasingly enthusiastic settlers, who saw the dancing as a symbolic union between their protector and the divine visitors.
With Tomoe, he shared a dance that more resembled a martial arts kata than traditional revelry, their movements precise and complementary, earning appreciative nods from the warriors among the settlers.
U-Olga Marie approached their dance with scientific curiosity, analyzing his technique with the same intensity she might have once applied to cosmic phenomena. By the end, however, even her analytical reserve had given way to something approaching enjoyment.
Summer Morgan maintained her cool demeanor throughout, though keen observers might have noticed the slight softening of her expression when Caelan unexpectedly dipped her at the music's crescendo.
Space Ereshkigal and Origin Space Ishtar insisted on simultaneously partnering with him, creating an impromptu trio that had the settlers cheering at its complexity and evident harmony.
Female ORT moved with crystalline precision, her body sometimes reflecting light in ways that shouldn't have been possible, creating a dance that seemed to temporarily bend the rules of the material world.
Void Shiki's dance was barely movement at all—more a shared stillness within motion, a moment of perfect balance that left even the musicians breathless.
And Tiamat, when it came her turn, surprised everyone by leading rather than following, guiding Caelan through movements that echoed the creation of worlds—her inherent maternal nature finding expression even without her divine power.
By the time the feast began to wind down, something fundamental had changed in the relationship between Caelan and the former goddesses. The rigid boundaries of protector and protected had softened, revealing glimpses of the individuals beneath their respective roles.
As they retired to their lodgings, Heldric pulled Caelan aside, his usually boisterous manner subdued into something more sincere.
"I've known you since the fall of the Erdtree, Ashbrand," the big man said quietly. "In all that time, I've never seen you dance. Or smile. Or show any sign that you remembered how to be anything other than a weapon."
Caelan was silent, neither confirming nor denying the observation.
"These women," Heldric continued, glancing toward where the former goddesses were making their way toward their quarters, "they've changed you already. Whether you admit it or not."
"Change is inevitable," Caelan finally replied. "Even for me."
Heldric clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture few would dare with the godslayer. "Good. The Lands Between needs its protector—but perhaps that protector needs more than just purpose to sustain him."
With those words, Heldric departed, leaving Caelan alone with thoughts that had become uncharacteristically complex since the arrival of ten former goddesses in his ordered world.
CHAPTER VI: DREAMS AND OMENS
The night passed peacefully, the first true rest any of them had experienced since the summoning. The former goddesses slept deeply, their mortal bodies finally succumbing to the exhaustion that followed battle, celebration, and the constant tension of vulnerability.
All except Void Shiki, who had never truly slept even in her divine form. She wandered the settlement in the predawn darkness, her crimson kimono making her a silent flame against the ashen landscape. Her wanderings eventually led her to the eastern wall, where a familiar figure stood watch.
Caelan didn't acknowledge her approach, though she knew he was aware of her presence. They stood in companionable silence for several minutes, watching the godrot fog shift and swirl beyond the settlement's boundaries.
"You saw something during the battle," Caelan finally said, not a question but a statement of fact. "In the Convergence. Something that troubled you."
Void Shiki's pale violet eyes remained fixed on the horizon. "Yes."
"Tell me."
She was silent for a moment, organizing thoughts that existed partially outside conventional reality even in her reduced state.
"The Convergence wasn't random," she finally said. "The remnants didn't simply gather because they sensed our divine essence. They were... directed. Purposed."
Caelan's expression didn't change, but his hand moved unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. "By what?"
"Not what. Who." Void Shiki turned to face him directly. "There's another like you out there. A divinity-slayer. But unlike you, they don't simply kill gods. They... collect them. Use them. The Convergence was a test—to assess your strength and ours."
"You're certain of this?"
"I see death in all things," she reminded him. "In that seeing, I sometimes glimpse purpose as well. The Convergence died with purpose. It was... satisfied."
Caelan was silent, processing this new information with tactical precision. Finally, he nodded once—acknowledgment rather than acceptance.
"We'll leave at first light," he decided. "Last Grace is no longer safe if we remain here."
"Where will we go?" Void Shiki asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.
"To find this collector," Caelan replied, his steel-grey eyes hardening with resolve. "Before they send something worse than a Convergence."
The rising sun found the former goddesses awakened by Caelan's direct but gentle insistence, their brief respite cut short by necessity. He explained the situation in his characteristically efficient manner, outlining what Void Shiki had sensed and his decision to depart immediately.
"So we're being hunted specifically," U-Olga Marie summarized, her analytical mind already calculating implications. "Not just by remnants drawn to our divine essence, but by someone who collects divinity."
"Precisely," Caelan confirmed, already donning his Maliketh armor with practiced ease. "Which means Last Grace is at risk as long as we remain."
"But we just got here," Beast Koyanskaya protested, though her fox ears were alert with interest rather than true objection. "I was just starting to enjoy civilization again."
"Would you enjoy it when this collector sends something that destroys the entire settlement to get to us?" Tomoe asked pointedly, already strapping her lightning katana to her waist.
Beast Koyanskaya's tail swished in irritation, but she offered no further argument.
"Where exactly are we going?" Summer Morgan asked, her cool demeanor masking the concern in her voice. "Tracking someone in a world as vast and dangerous as this seems... ambitious."
"We don't need to track them," Caelan replied, securing the Godslayer Greatsword across his back. "They want us. Specifically, they want what remains of your divinity, and possibly what I've absorbed from the gods I've slain."
"So we're bait," Origin Space Ishtar concluded, her bright eyes narrowing with understanding.
"No," Caelan corrected. "We're the hunters now. Void Shiki can sense the direction of purpose. We'll follow that thread to its source."
"And then what?" Castoria asked softly, her staff clutched tightly in her hands.
Caelan's expression was grim beneath his helm. "Then I do what I was made to do."
The citizens of Last Grace gathered to bid them farewell, many offering gifts despite Caelan's insistence that they travel light. Heldric presented each of the women with small tokens—talismans made from godbone that would offer minor protections against the godrot.
"These have been blessed by our faith healers," he explained, his usual boisterous manner subdued by the gravity of their departure. "They can't stop the godrot entirely, but they might slow its effects if you're caught in heavy concentrations."
For Caelan, he had a more substantial gift—a single golden seed, preserved from the dying Erdtree. "We've kept this for generations," Heldric said solemnly. "Waiting for the right purpose. Perhaps you'll find a use for it where you're going."
Caelan accepted the seed with uncharacteristic reverence, carefully securing it within a pouch at his belt. "Thank you, old friend," he said, the term of endearment surprising both of them.
Heldric recovered quickly, breaking into a broad grin. "Getting soft in your old age, Ashbrand? First dancing, now sentiment?"
"Perhaps," Caelan admitted, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Change comes for us all."
With final farewells exchanged, they set out from Last Grace, following Void Shiki's silent guidance as she tracked the invisible thread of purpose that connected them to the mysterious collector. The godrot fog seemed to part before them—not out of respect or fear, but almost as if inviting them deeper into its domain.
They had traveled for perhaps two hours when Caelan suddenly raised his hand, signaling for silence. The group froze instantly, having learned to trust his senses.
"What is it?" Tomoe whispered, her warrior's instincts already alert for danger.
"We're being followed," Caelan replied, his voice barely audible. "Since we left the settlement."
"Remnants?" Space Ereshkigal asked, her grip tightening on her matter-shifting spear.
"No," Caelan's steel-grey eyes narrowed as he scanned their surroundings. "Something else. Something... singular."
A low growl emanated from the godrot fog to their right—not threatening, but clearly intended to announce a presence. The fog parted to reveal the metallic wolf they had encountered in the cathedral, its godrot eyes now dimmed to a dull glow, the divine corruption seemingly contained.
"The watchdog," Castoria breathed, recognition dawning in her teal eyes. "It's... following us?"
Caelan approached the creature cautiously, his hand near but not on his sword. The watchdog remained still, allowing him to draw close. When Caelan extended his hand, the beast pressed its muzzle against his palm in a gesture that seemed almost like fealty.
"It's bonded," Caelan said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "To me. To us."
"You healed it," Tiamat observed, her ancient eyes soft with understanding. "Creation recognizes creation, even in a world of ash."
"Can we trust it?" Beast Koyanskaya asked skeptically, her fox nature inherently wary of canines.
"More than most things in the Lands Between," Caelan replied, running his hand along the watchdog's metallic fur. "Its purpose has shifted. It guards now, rather than hunts."
"A guardian is exactly what we need," Tomoe noted pragmatically. "Another set of senses alert for danger."
The watchdog—which Castoria promptly named "Echo" for the way its growls resonated within its metallic form—integrated seamlessly into their group. It moved ahead and around them in irregular patterns, constantly scouting and returning, its godrot eyes somehow conveying information to Caelan through means none of the others quite understood.
With Echo's assistance, they made better progress through the treacherous landscape. The watchdog seemed to instinctively know which paths through the godrot fog were safe and which concealed unseen dangers, guiding them with soft growls and meaningful glances.
By midday, they had reached the edge of a vast depression in the land—what might have once been a lake or sea, now a dry basin filled with the petrified remains of aquatic god-things. Massive skeletal structures rose from the ash like the ribs of forgotten leviathans, creating an eerie forest of bone and calcified divine flesh.
"What is this place?" Female ORT asked, her crystalline voice reflecting the strange acoustics of the basin.
"The Lake of Rot," Caelan replied, surveying the expanse with wary recognition. "Once the domain of an outer god of decay. Now just a graveyard for its followers."
"It feels... wrong," Origin Space Ishtar murmured, her cosmic senses still sharp enough to detect the lingering wrongness of the place. "Like space folded incorrectly."
"The outer gods didn't belong here," Caelan explained, beginning the descent into the basin with careful steps. "They forced themselves into the Lands Between, warping reality to accommodate their presence. When they died or withdrew, they left scars."
"And is that what you're doing to this world?" Summer Morgan asked pointedly. "Creating scars by removing its divine architecture?"
Caelan paused, considering her question with unexpected thoughtfulness. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But some scars are necessary for healing to begin."
The descent into the Lake of Rot was treacherous, the ash giving way to crimson dust that still carried echoes of the decay god's influence. Echo led them along seemingly random paths that proved to be the only safe routes—everywhere else, the ground would occasionally shift and bubble with pockets of concentrated godrot that could eat through even Caelan's divine-infused armor.
They had reached roughly the center of the basin when Echo suddenly froze, its metallic fur bristling with alarm. Caelan immediately signaled for the group to halt, his hand already on the hilt of the Godslayer Greatsword.
"Something's coming," Void Shiki whispered, her pale violet eyes wide with recognition. "Something... collected."
The ground beneath them began to tremble, crimson dust rising in spiraling patterns that defied natural air currents. Echo growled, positioning itself protectively in front of the former goddesses.
"Prepare yourselves," Caelan commanded, drawing his sword in a fluid motion. The blackflame that perpetually smoldered within his armor intensified, wisps of divine-hunting fire curling around him in anticipation.
The trembling intensified, then abruptly ceased. In the sudden stillness, a voice spoke—not from any visible source, but seemingly from the very air around them.
"The Ashbrand comes," it said, the words carrying a strange harmonic quality, as if multiple voices were speaking in perfect unison. "The flame that outlasted heaven itself. And he brings gifts—fallen stars, dimmed but not extinguished."
"Show yourself," Caelan demanded, his deep voice carrying across the basin.
A laugh rippled through the air—musical, almost pleasant, yet somehow fundamentally wrong. "But I am showing myself, godslayer. I am all around you. Within you. Part of the very world you claim to protect by murdering its divinity."
The crimson dust began to coalesce, forming a humanoid figure approximately thirty meters tall. Unlike the chaotic amalgamations of the Convergence, this entity's form was elegant, proportional, almost beautiful in its symmetry. It appeared female, with features that seemed to borrow aspects from each of the former goddesses, creating an unsettling composite of divine feminine power.
"Behold," the dust-figure announced, spreading arms that terminated in delicate, perfectly formed hands. "The Collector. The Preserver. The one who salvages what you would destroy, Ashbrand."
Caelan didn't waste time with further dialogue. With lightning speed, he unleashed "Ancient Dragon's Lightning Strike," summoning massive bolts of red-gold lightning that crashed down upon the dust-figure with devastating force.
The attack passed harmlessly through the entity, the lightning dissipating into the ground without apparent effect. The Collector's laugh echoed across the basin once more.
"Oh, Ashbrand. Did you think it would be that simple? I am not flesh to be burned or divinity to be hunted. I am concept. Idea. The collective memory of gods you thought long dead."
The dust-figure gestured casually, and the ground beneath Caelan erupted in a geyser of concentrated godrot. He leapt backward with inhuman agility, narrowly avoiding being engulfed.
"Stay back," he commanded the former goddesses, who had instinctively moved to assist him. "This isn't a physical enemy you can fight with godbone weapons."
"Correct," the Collector agreed pleasantly. "Though they are very much part of this confrontation." The massive dust-face turned its attention to the women. "Do you know what he truly is, my dimmed sisters? What the Ashbrand represents?"
"We know he kills gods," Beast Koyanskaya replied, her fox ears flattened aggressively despite her fear. "And from where I'm standing, that seems increasingly reasonable."
The Collector laughed again, the sound sending ripples through the crimson dust that composed her form. "He doesn't merely kill gods, little beast. He erases them. Removes them from the cycle of rebirth that sustains reality itself. Each divinity he 'silences' is another thread cut from the fabric of existence."
"You're lying," Castoria challenged, though uncertainty flickered in her teal eyes. "The gods were corrupting this world, not sustaining it."
"Were they?" The Collector's massive form shifted closer, dust cascading like water as she moved. "Or were they simply evolving it? Changing it? All worlds need divinity, little fairy queen. Without it, reality stagnates and eventually... ends."
"Enough," Caelan growled, blackflame now engulfing his Godslayer Greatsword completely. "Your manipulation is as transparent as your form."
"Is it manipulation to speak truth?" the Collector countered. "Ask your companion—the one who sees death in all things. Ask her what she sees in the future of this world without its gods."
All eyes turned to Void Shiki, whose pale violet gaze had fixed on something beyond their perception.
"I see..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I see an ending. But not from the absence of gods." Her gaze shifted to the Collector. "From the hoarding of divine essence. From the imbalance you create by preserving what should naturally transform."
The Collector's dust-face contorted briefly in what might have been anger before resuming its serene expression. "Clever void-eye. Always seeing the deeper currents." The massive figure turned its attention back to Caelan. "But even she doesn't see the full picture, godslayer. Your crusade against divinity will hollow this world until nothing remains but ash and memory."
Caelan's stance shifted subtly, his sword lowering slightly as he assessed the situation with tactical precision. "If you're so concerned with preservation," he said, his deep voice carrying a challenge, "why attack us? Why not simply... collect elsewhere?"
"Because you, Ashbrand, have absorbed more divine essence than any being should contain," the Collector replied, a hint of hunger entering her harmonious voice. "You are a walking repository of godhood—fragmented, chaotic, but potentially... transformative. And these former goddesses..." Her dust-gaze swept across the women. "They are seeds of divinity from other worlds. Imagine what new growth might spring from such exotic divine stock."
"So it's not preservation you seek," Caelan concluded, his steel-grey eyes narrowing beneath his helm. "It's experimentation. Using divine essence as raw material for your own ascension."
The Collector's dust-form rippled with what might have been appreciation. "Perceptive, for a glorified executioner. Yes, godslayer. The age of the Greater Will and the Erdtree is over. The age of the Collector now begins—a new divinity born from the remnants of the old. And you will contribute to it, willingly or not."
With those words, the crimson dust that formed the Collector's body suddenly accelerated, swirling into a vortex that rushed toward them with the force of a divine sandstorm. Echo howled a warning, its metallic body interposing itself between the former goddesses and the oncoming threat.
Caelan moved with blinding speed, his sword sweeping in a horizontal arc as he called upon one of his most devastating techniques. "Black Flame Ritual!" A circle of divine-hunting fire erupted outward from him, creating a momentary barrier against the dust-storm.
The blackflame caught the leading edge of the crimson dust, consuming it with hungry eagerness. The Collector's harmonious voice distorted into something closer to a shriek as portions of her consciousness burned away.
"Terra Magica!" Caelan continued, a glowing sigil appearing beneath his feet, enhancing his already formidable magical abilities. The air around him crackled with potential energy.
"Comet Azur!"
A beam of pure cosmic energy erupted from his outstretched hand, cutting through the heart of the dust-storm with devastating precision. Where the energy touched the crimson particles, they transformed—not into ash, but into crystalline structures that shattered and fell to the ground like crimson snow.
The Collector's form began to disintegrate under the combined assault of blackflame and cosmic energy. Her harmonious voice fragmented into dozens of individual cries—the separate divine entities she had absorbed crying out as their collected essence was disrupted.
"This... changes... nothing," the Collector managed, her dust-form now reduced to barely a quarter of its original size. "I am... idea... concept... I cannot... truly die..."
"Perhaps not," Caelan acknowledged, lowering his sword as the immediate threat receded. "But concepts can change. Evolve. Transform." His steel-grey eyes locked onto what remained of the Collector's face. "Remember that, when you reform."
With a final, discordant cry, the remaining crimson dust scattered, disappearing into the countless crevices and caverns of the Lake of Rot. Silence fell across the basin, broken only by the settling of disturbed ash and the heavy breathing of the former goddesses, who had braced themselves for a battle that had ended almost before it began.
"Is it... over?" Origin Space Ishtar asked cautiously, her cosmic bow still drawn and ready.
"For now," Caelan replied, sheathing his sword with practiced ease. "She'll reform eventually. Concepts always do."
"You knew what she was all along," Summer Morgan observed, her cool blue eyes studying him with new understanding. "That's why you didn't waste time arguing philosophy with her."
"I recognized the pattern," Caelan confirmed. "I've encountered concept-entities before. They feed on engagement, on philosophical debate. The more you validate their existence by arguing, the stronger they become."
"So instead, you just... disrupted her," U-Olga Marie concluded, her analytical mind impressed despite herself. "Forced her to expend energy reforming rather than attacking."
"Precisely." Caelan turned, surveying the basin with tactical awareness. "We should move quickly. The Lake of Rot isn't stable at the best of times, and our little encounter will have drawn attention."
As if to validate his concern, the ground beneath them gave an ominous tremor. Echo whined urgently, already moving toward what appeared to be the safest path out of the basin.
They followed the watchdog's lead, moving with renewed purpose through the petrified divine graveyard. The former goddesses found themselves drawing closer to Caelan as they walked, their perception of him shifted once again by what they had witnessed.
"You protected us," Castoria said softly, matching her pace to his. "Again."
"It's becoming a habit," he replied, the faint trace of dry humor in his voice surprising them both.
"One I hope continues," she admitted, a blush coloring her cheeks at her own boldness.
Before Caelan could respond, a massive tremor shook the basin, far more violent than the previous warning signs. Massive cracks appeared in the ground, revealing a network of crimson-glowing veins beneath the surface—concentrated godrot that had pooled in the deepest recesses of the Lake of Rot.
"Run!" Caelan commanded, already moving to the rear of the group to ensure none fell behind. "Follow Echo! Don't stop for anything!"
The basin was collapsing around them, ancient structures of petrified divine flesh crumbling as the ground beneath them liquified into pools of active godrot. Echo led them on a desperate path toward the basin's edge, the watchdog's instincts guiding them through the rapidly disintegrating landscape.
They had almost reached safety when the ground gave way completely beneath Female ORT's crystalline form. With a startled cry, she began to sink into a pool of concentrated godrot that bubbled up from below.
Without hesitation, Caelan dove toward the sinking crystalline woman, his powerful form cutting through the air with the precision of a predatory bird. He reached Female ORT just as the godrot began to corrode her lower body, causing her crystalline form to crack and dissolve.
"Hold on!" he commanded, wrapping one arm around her waist while plunging his Godslayer Greatsword into more solid ground for leverage.
The godrot bubbled and hissed at contact with Caelan's armor, the blackflame that perpetually smoldered within it creating a temporary barrier against corruption. Female ORT's usually expressionless face contorted with pain as the godrot worked its way into her crystalline matrix.
"Leave me," she insisted, her harmonic voice distorted by suffering. "Save the others."
"Not an option," Caelan growled, his muscles straining as he fought against the godrot's pull.
From the edge of the basin, Tomoe acted with warrior's decisiveness. Securing one end of her obi sash to a protruding bone structure, she threw the other end toward Caelan while Beast Koyanskaya and Space Ereshkigal anchored her.
Caelan caught the makeshift lifeline with his free hand, his grip strong enough to crack ordinary bone. With a mighty heave, he pulled himself and Female ORT from the godrot pool, the momentum carrying them to more stable ground.
"Move!" he ordered once more, gathering Female ORT into his arms when it became clear her damaged form couldn't support her weight. Her lower body had partially dissolved, the crystalline structure now ending raggedly at mid-thigh.
Together, they raced the collapsing basin, Echo leading them along an increasingly narrow path of stability. Massive geysers of godrot erupted on all sides, ancient divine corpses shattered and sank into the liquefying ground, and the very air became thick with crimson particles that burned the lungs with each desperate breath.
When they finally reached the basin's edge, clambering up the steep incline to safety, they collapsed in exhaustion, lungs heaving, bodies trembling with exertion and residual fear.
Caelan immediately turned his attention to Female ORT, gently laying her on the ground. Her crystalline body flickered erratically, the godrot corruption spreading upward from where her legs had been.
"Can you help her?" Tiamat asked, her ancient eyes wide with concern.
"I don't know," Caelan admitted, his hands hovering uncertainly over Female ORT's damaged form. "Godrot corruption doesn't respond to ordinary healing magic."
"But she's not ordinary," Void Shiki pointed out, kneeling beside them. "She's crystalline. Could the corruption be... contained? Isolated?"
Caelan's steel-grey eyes narrowed in thought. "Perhaps." He placed his hands on either side of Female ORT's torso, just above where the corruption was advancing. "Blackflame responds to divinity. If I can create a barrier..."
"Use my power too," Castoria urged, pressing her Erdtree staff to Female ORT's shoulder. "The blessing might stabilize her while you work."
Caelan nodded once, then closed his eyes in concentration. Blackflame coalesced around his hands, but rather than the ravening hunger it normally displayed, this fire burned with controlled precision. Simultaneously, golden light flowed from Castoria's staff, creating a complementary energy that seemed to strengthen Female ORT's crystalline structure.
"Stay with us," Summer Morgan murmured, her cool reserve giving way to genuine concern as she held Female ORT's hand. "We've only just started to know you."
Female ORT's fractal, kaleidoscopic eyes fixed on Summer's face with surprising clarity. "Why?" she asked, her harmonic voice barely audible. "Why save what is already broken?"
"Because broken things still have value," Beast Koyanskaya answered unexpectedly, her usual sarcasm absent. "Something I'm beginning to understand in this world."
For several tense minutes, Caelan and Castoria maintained their healing efforts, blackflame and blessing working in unlikely harmony. Gradually, the godrot's advance slowed, then stopped, contained by a thin ring of controlled blackflame that sealed it off from the rest of Female ORT's body.
"It's working," U-Olga Marie observed, her analytical mind cataloging the process with fascination. "The corruption is contained."
"But not eliminated," Caelan corrected, slowly withdrawing his hands. "And she's lost significant mass. She'll need a more permanent solution eventually."
Female ORT struggled to sit up, her truncated form making balance difficult. "I can... adapt," she insisted, her voice stronger now that the immediate crisis had passed. "My crystalline nature allows for reconstruction, given time and appropriate materials."
"We'll find what you need," Caelan promised, rising to his feet with fluid grace despite his evident fatigue. "But first, we need distance from this place."
Echo, who had been keeping watch during the healing process,