"One act of kindness turns into a waterfall of everlasting loyalty."
— Chaac the Bold, before blocking off the first path to Earth
As recorded by the Recorder
Scene 1
Bale POV
"Lord Ten."
I bowed to my little lord.
He frowned immediately.
That alone should have warned me.
A pressure brushed against the Death Laws wrapped around my body. Not hostile. Not even truly angry. More like a hand pushing aside a curtain that should not have been placed there in the first place.
"You've grown bold over these years, Bale."
Lord Ten's normally crimson eyes flashed white.
The Death Laws I had layered over myself to protect against his usual habit of forcing me upright shattered before I could reinforce them. Not violently. Cleanly. As if my protection had never been mine to begin with.
"You know I hate when you or Abi bow or kneel to me."
My back straightened against my will.
The air itself made the correction.
Hecate sat beside him, fingers buried in his dark hair while she laughed softly at the familiar scene. She had never stopped finding our interactions amusing, especially after learning how long ago I had discovered who he truly was.
Lord Ten looked nothing like the child I had once carried through forests and corrected over rabbits.
And yet, sometimes, when he frowned like that, I still saw him.
The boy with apples in his hands.
The impossible child who had missed rabbits and pretended not to care.
The little lord who had let a mortal hunter teach him how to breathe before loosing an arrow.
"Fine," he said, waving one hand as if surrendering before the argument could begin. "Since you'll only delay going to Thanatos if I don't give you something, sit down. You need to understand the gift I'm about to place in your hands."
That sentence made Hecate's smile thin.
Not vanish.
But sharpen.
I obeyed and took the seat across from him.
We were in one of Lord Ten's garden courtyards, though calling it a garden felt too small. The place floated somewhere between the Black Sun's inner palace and the lower folds of the NetherRealms. Clouds drifted beneath the stone walkways. Dark fruit trees grew from pale soil threaded with black fire. Fairies tended the branches in silence, their wings glowing faintly as they clipped leaves, gathered fruit, and pretended not to listen.
Lord Ten waved his hand.
A few fairies hurried over with plates of peaches, grapes, and dark wine.
He waited until they left before speaking again.
"Tell me what you understand about Xer."
I looked toward the edge of the courtyard.
Beyond the railing, one of Lord Ten's inky clouds drifted lazily in the distance. Xer slept there, hood pulled low, one arm hanging over the side like even his dreams were annoyed with the world.
"Not much," I admitted. "Only what Lord Thanatos's Head Reapers have told me."
Lord Ten poured wine into my cup.
I accepted it carefully.
"Xer is the middle child of the Horsemen of the End," I continued. "Three brothers born during the birth of Ares from the surrounding bloodshed and wars being waged across the world."
The wine smelled rich and sharp, too divine to belong in a mortal cup.
"Xer himself is rumored to stand behind only you, Lord Thanatos, and Lord Hades when it comes to the Laws of Death. Even the Head Reapers doubt they will remain ahead of him once he fully steps into the Minor God ranks."
Lord Ten nodded.
"It is not a rumor. It is true."
The courtyard grew quieter.
Even the fairies stopped moving for a breath.
"He is more aligned with the Death Domain than even the Reapers born from Thanatos," Ten said. "Without a combined blessing from all three of us, which would cause even a Reaper to collapse inward under the pressure, no one among them can compete with him inside our domain."
He placed a peach on the table between us and cut it open with a thread of black flame.
"But you are wrong about when he steps into Minor God status."
I stilled.
"He is already there," Lord Ten said. "Standing at the doors of Major God."
My gaze returned to the sleeping boy on the cloud.
Xer did not move.
That made it worse.
"But unlike the rest of you, his true domain is sealed. It waits for their last brother to finally form after Zeus triggered their birth and ruined the complete set of Horsemen meant to stand in opposition to Juris's Four Satans of Hell."
I tried to arrange the information in my head.
Failed.
Then tried again.
"If his true domain is sealed," I said slowly, "then his path to Godhood is ruined. Losing even a fragment of a True Domain is worse than a shattered Grotto Heart. If he is one of four, while you are one of two, then all three brothers are stuck at whatever rank they were born with."
Lord Ten watched me for a moment.
Not disappointed.
Measuring.
"No," he said. "Paused."
He leaned back slightly while Hecate's fingers resumed moving through his hair.
"I made a deal with my great-grandfather Uranus, who brought those children into this cycle. He maintains half-ownership over Xer as the Sky Reaper. It was the only way I could get him to salvage their last brother."
Hecate's fingers paused again.
"Although salvage may be the kindest word for what we received," Lord Ten added.
A faint breeze moved through the garden, carrying the scent of peaches and cloud-water.
"My father had to force the Horseman of War under Hell so he could stabilize. Thanatos took over Xer's domain as the more advanced user of the Dual Paths of Death and Endings. The youngest is being given a more traditional life because his domain of Conquest relies on a True End condition, which left him stranded at the Demi-God state."
He lifted his cup.
"Now why is this important to you?"
Before I could answer, he reached one hand into the cloud beside him.
Not the cloud Xer slept on.
The deeper cloud.
The one that was not weather but passage.
I felt the connection immediately.
The NetherRealms answered him.
Something moved through earth, death, root, and darkness before appearing in his palm.
A pale green crystal.
Inside it floated a developed fetus.
I shook my head before thought could catch up with instinct.
"No."
Hecate laughed openly this time.
Lord Ten turned toward her with a dramatic look of betrayal.
She only laughed harder.
Then he turned back to me.
"Hunger," he said. "Or Famine, as he will be known, is the only one who could not meet the basic conditions of his birth."
The crystal pulsed faintly.
Not alive in the normal sense.
Not dead either.
Waiting.
"Many will struggle to understand his dilemma. You should not."
I swallowed.
Lord Ten's expression settled into something older.
"The Golden Cycle. The Age of Titans. The era of gods walking among mortals while mortals remain prey to Titans. A time your descendants will call the land of immortality. A time when the only fear mortals truly carry is being forgotten rather than dying."
His gaze moved to the fruit on the table.
"When food is called Divine Food of the Gods, yet it is the same fruit we treat as snacks."
The peach in front of me suddenly looked heavier.
"Uranus's plan began to fail long before I became involved," Ten continued. "Zeus prolonged the Golden Cycle in pursuit of a complete crown made from the five domains of Earth."
He lifted one finger.
"Gaia's UnderGrotto."
A second.
"Uncle Poseidon's Ocean Heart."
A third.
"His own Olympus."
A fourth.
"My father's Underworld."
Then his hand lowered.
"And the last realm was removed by Chronos when he hid the missing King of the Stars, Adamas. The third child who should have been born before Zeus was cast into the Dark Sun buried beneath both the UnderGrotto and the Underworld. The core of the world."
The garden seemed to bend around the words.
"With that one act, Zeus cannot compete against Gaia without risking everything he has built inside his domain of the Sky."
I stayed silent.
This was beyond hunting.
Beyond tribes.
Beyond the Hounds.
"You will learn why that matters for you later," Ten said. "For now, understand this: Hunger is forever stranded in the Golden Cycle without the nourishment needed to begin his development. If forced, he risks damaging the rest of the set."
The crystal pulsed again.
This time, I felt something in my stomach answer.
Not hunger.
Recognition of hunger.
"But for you," Ten said, "this offers a chance we could not take before."
His eyes settled on mine.
"You want to carry my flame as your divine symbol. Something your human body could handle no matter how divine you became."
His right hand opened.
An inky black flame appeared above his palm, silent and absolute.
"But the Horseman of Famine?"
The flame moved.
It wrapped around the crystal, covering the fetus in black fire without burning the vessel that held it. Divine marks of black flame crawled across the fetus's torso, forming lines that looked almost like ribs, almost like chains, almost like teeth.
Then Lord Ten tossed the crystal to me.
I caught it with both hands.
The cold sank into my palms.
"Thanatos will give you the steps needed to split your soul," Ten said. "I cannot do it without purifying everything in the process. So now it is about whether you want to take the first step."
His voice softened.
"I will not disagree with you if you decide to remain here as the leader of my mortals."
That made my hands tighten around the crystal.
He was trying to give me a way out.
Like he always did.
Like I had ever been smart enough to take it when duty was already in my hands.
I shook my head.
Then hugged the crystal close.
I bowed again.
This time, when he frowned, I did not rise quickly.
I did not bother replying either.
He would only keep trying to dissuade me from hasty action.
And I had already chosen.
"We've built new lives here, and yet we've watched even more friends fail to reach this world.
How many more must die before you're all ready to retreat?"
— Artemis the Scout
Recorded by Odin
Scene 2
"So my brother finally handed over the Hunger fetus."
I nearly dropped the crystal.
Young Lord Juris stood in adult form over his own childlike body, which slept beneath layers of Death and Time Laws.
For a moment, I looked between them both.
The smaller body lay on a raised bed of black stone and white cloth, breathing so softly I would have missed it without divine senses. Death Laws stitched around him like a protective cocoon, while Time Laws circled above his chest in faint silver rings. Each ring moved at a different pace. Some slow. Some fast. Some pausing in the middle of motion as if the world itself hesitated to touch him.
The adult Juris watched me with quiet amusement.
Not a spirit.
Not a split soul.
A future version.
The kind of thing only a son of Hades and Persephone could make look like an office appointment.
"You look startled," he said.
"That is because I am startled, Young Lord."
His smile widened.
Then he pointed toward the massive book resting open on the desk beside him.
The Book of All Creation.
Lady Persephone had crafted it for him before she died in childbirth. Even closed, the book felt dangerous. Open, it made the room feel less like an office and more like a place where reality came to explain itself before being written down.
One of the pages glowed.
I stared at it.
Then back at him.
He laughed quietly.
I accepted the truth again.
He had always been as strange as his brother.
Only more reclusive.
Lord Ten moved like a storm deciding whether to become a child or catastrophe. Young Lord Juris preferred recording, reading, and appearing from the wrong point in time as if that solved the problem.
Only Lady Eris and Lady Fatí's three variants were allowed direct access to him most days.
Mother and I were exceptions only because we had free access to Helios's Palace buried deep within the Black Sun.
Ayin and Eli had only visited once.
That alone reminded me how strange my life had become.
"Yes," I said, steadying the crystal in my arms. "Lord Ten gave it to me. I have already learned the method, but Lord Thanatos told me to wait until I begin my quest. He said you would have the reasons for why I should not hasten the process."
Future Juris glanced around his office.
For one breath, his eyes moved across every book, scroll, seal, and floating page. He studied the room like he was comparing it to a memory that had already gone wrong.
Then his gaze returned to me.
"Yes. I did have such a plan before," he said. "But due to this situation, I failed to convey it correctly. Being stuck in the Timeline is truly a Recorder's worst nightmare."
The room ticked.
There was no clock.
Still, the sound moved through the walls.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Future Juris ignored it.
"Either way, what you need to step past the bottleneck every god who is not born a Divine Child will face is a trinity capable of carrying your domain."
I frowned.
He continued before I could ask.
"Three variants of the same domain, or three aligned domains capable of supporting a central authority. Without that structure, you remain impressive but incomplete. Strong, but unable to pass the wall without risking collapse."
He lifted one hand.
"For Ten, that trinity is Sun, Death, and Darkness. His axis is the End, which gives him room to learn every domain in existence because all things must end."
The glowing page shifted.
Three black symbols appeared first.
A sun.
A skull.
A shadow.
Then a fourth mark formed beneath them.
A line.
An ending.
"Mine is Recording, Wisdom, and slowly becoming Time at this point in my life," Juris said. "I could attempt to do as Ten does and learn other domains through broader application, but it is pointless. I only need Recording and the last two to support my main domain."
The page changed again.
A quill.
An eye.
A clock with no hands.
"Apollo is Fate, Heaven, and Coastal Waters," Juris continued. "The last served as the stabilizer he had as a child to stop Fate from overreaching through him. Coastal Waters gave him a boundary. A place where Fate could touch the world and still recede."
I tried to keep up.
Failed.
Then tried again.
Young Lord Juris glanced at my expression and seemed amused enough to continue anyway.
"The issue with Famine is the lack of domains capable of shouldering it to divinity. As an End domain, it is overbearing upon the mind of its owner. Yet it is also one of the most versatile because Hunger can be defined too broadly."
His voice lowered.
"Food. Victory. Worship. Survival. Meaning. Divinity. Revenge. Conquest. Even life itself can be named food by a weak enough mind."
The crystal in my arms pulsed again.
This time, I held it tighter.
"So I had to think after his failed birth," Juris said, walking slowly around the office. "What could carry the weight and responsibility of Hunger?"
He lifted one finger.
"Determination? Maybe. But too feeble to hold it up. Determination breaks when the goal disappears."
A second finger.
"Will? Stronger, but liable to its own dogma. Will can convince appetite that every desire is destiny."
A third.
"Endurance? The ability to withstand any kind of pressure? Closer. Perhaps."
He stopped beside the sleeping child-body of himself.
"But could it stand in alignment with Force and War?"
The page flipped on its own.
Symbols I did not fully understand appeared across it.
A fist.
A battlefield.
An empty bowl.
"Hunger can outlast both when called upon," Juris said. "Force spends itself. War consumes supply. Hunger waits beneath the cost and asks how long either can continue."
He looked at me.
"This was the answer I failed to find before I fell into the Timeline."
The ticking sound grew louder.
Future Juris ignored it again.
"But who could do it? Abi? No. She is already the Earth Mother of my realm. Her role is foundation."
His eyes sharpened.
"Then I remembered the brother who taught both Endings how to hunt. How to hide desire as gods. How to wait for the perfect moment to act."
The room went quiet.
Even the ticking paused.
Future Juris smiled.
"Perfect."
My throat tightened.
I did not know what to say to that.
Brother.
He said it so simply.
Not follower.
Not servant.
Not mortal.
Brother.
Future Juris pointed toward the Book of All Creation.
Several pages near the rear tore free without ripping. They folded around themselves, binding into a thin collection of glowing sheets before landing in my hand.
The moment they touched me, the knowledge did not enter.
It waited.
Like a weapon left sheathed.
"Good luck from my Timeline brother," Juris said.
The clock sound returned.
Louder this time.
BONG.
The whole office trembled.
Future Juris grinned at me as the edges of his adult form began to fade.
"May you present the miracle that can stop Ares and empower Adamas."
BONG.
His body thinned.
The glow around the book dimmed.
BONG.
Then Future Juris vanished from reality, leaving only the sleeping child-body beneath Death and Time Laws.
The office became still.
Too still.
The crystal rested in one arm.
The bound pages rested in my other hand.
And for the first time since Lord Ten placed the Hunger fetus in my grasp, I understood that this was not only my path.
It was a correction sent from a future that had learned the answer too late.
"Duty has called.
Time to act.
Raise the sword.
Attack or defense — neither matters."
— Odin the Butcher, the Mad, the Demo**, the Ligh**** T****F, **rox , Kg ** ***** error
*As recorded by *error.
Scene 3
Ayin POV
"Bring him in."
Lord Pluto's voice moved through the Titanic Court like a law deciding to become sound.
His bearded face carried a soft smile, as if he had already been entertained long before the ceremony began. Yet nothing about him felt soft. This was not the Lord Hades most of the world knew through throne, palace, family, and realm. This was Lord Pluto, the stronger vessel, seated openly before the highest powers of the Underworld.
The difference pressed against my bones even through Lord Ten's barrier.
I stood beneath that protection and still felt small.
The entire faction of the Underworld's upper gods and Titans had assembled. Each sat or stood in titanic and monstrous form, their natural auras pushing against the barrier Lord Ten had wrapped around me. Some looked like ancient kings wearing bodies of shadow and bone. Others were nothing like human shape at all. Wings, horns, hollow crowns, eyes like buried stars, hands large enough to crush palaces.
I was the smallest being in the room.
A Minor God, and still nearly nothing here.
The courtroom walls were made from bones of creatures I did not dare stare at too long. Their residual divinity crawled through the white surfaces in faint veins, old power trapped inside dead matter. If Lord Ten had not been shielding me, even looking too deeply at those remains could have wiped out my divine body.
This was not a court built to impress mortals.
This was a court built from endings powerful enough to survive death.
The doors remained shut.
Then the proclamation began.
"Introducing to the Underworld the first warrior to be accepted by King Thanatos of the Death Star Realm."
The voice echoed from everywhere at once.
"Given the task of hunting twenty-one Divine Beasts that plagued the minor worlds of Prince Tenebris. Sent upon his quest to be accepted as a formal Reaper under Lord Thanatos."
The pressure in the court shifted.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"His quest is complete and blessed by the Five Kings of the Underworld."
A pulse of discordant divinity answered first.
"Lady Eris, for his caretaking of every tribe placed under the watch of his Hounds."
A thread of fate twisted through the air.
"Lady Fatí, for breaking his Fate in completing the quest of hunting Divine Beasts."
Dream mist rolled softly across the floor.
"Lord Morpheus, for allowing mortals to accomplish Dreams after being moved to his world."
The sound of a river passed through the court without water appearing.
"Lady Styx, for honoring his Oaths throughout his million-year quest."
Then Death descended.
Not Lord Pluto's Death.
Not Lord Ten's End.
Thanatos.
Cold, clean, patient.
"Lord Thanatos, for showing the wisdom to treat the Ending not as a throne to worship, but as a child to be trained."
Lord Ten's expression did not change.
That somehow made the line heavier.
The proclamation ended.
"Bale of the Sun Tribes."
The doors burst open.
Several Reapers marched in first, skeletal forms revealed without their hoods. Their bones were not white, but darkened silver, etched with Death Laws and old names. Each step landed in perfect rhythm. Each carried weapons that seemed less forged than remembered from executions that had already happened.
Between them walked Bale.
The only god in the march made of flesh and blood.
His animal-hide cloak hung from his shoulders. Shadow rested on him in crow form, black feathers folded tight. His face was calm, though I knew him well enough to see the tension in his jaw.
Fatí's Demi-God Fate Weavers hummed from the lower side of the court.
The tune was not beautiful.
It was necessary.
Their voices dragged the River of Fate into the courtroom, materializing it along the floor in a flowing path toward Lord Pluto's throne. The river reflected no faces. Only possible deaths.
Bale walked across it without looking down.
Then he reached the center of the court and knelt.
"God-King Pluto," he said, voice steady, "I have answered your summons."
The Reapers around him maintained their stances.
Titan-level gods stood like escort and witness.
Then silence fell.
Not for a breath.
Not for a minute.
Ten years.
Bale remained kneeling for ten years.
The court did not move.
The Titans did not speak.
The Five Kings watched with blank faces.
Lord Ten watched with the same stillness, his eyes unreadable beneath the barrier he kept around me.
Ten years beneath Lord Pluto's attention.
Ten years with Shadow waiting on his shoulder.
Ten years without complaint.
I understood then why Divine Mother Abi warned us to always answer plainly in Lord Pluto's presence.
There was no need to perform before him.
Performance would rot.
Only what remained after waiting mattered.
Finally, Lord Pluto smiled a little wider.
"Good."
The single word released a pressure I had not realized I was holding in my chest.
"You have prepared well. I see my sons have done what was required, and they obeyed my rule to keep you unaware."
His hand opened.
"Come here, Shadow."
The crow lifted from Bale's shoulder.
Shadow flew across the court and landed in Lord Pluto's palm without hesitation.
Bale's jaw tightened once.
Only once.
Lord Pluto caressed the living weapon of Death with a gentleness that reminded me of Divine Mother Abi.
That similarity made the sight stranger, not softer.
"What do you think the purpose of your quest will be this time, O Hound of the Black Suns?"
Bale kept his head lowered.
"To answer the call we have been waiting for as Hounds."
Plain.
Direct.
Exactly as Abi had taught us.
Lord Pluto's brow rose.
"As warriors?"
His grin widened slightly.
"If it is as warriors, then that is our duty," Bale answered. "If it is to aid the tribes under Lord Pluto, then that is our duty."
"Interesting."
The word rolled through the court.
"And what if it is to aid a rival Divine Child who could become the greatest rival to your lord — and the greatest asset to anyone who wishes to destroy him?"
For the first time, Bale looked up in confusion.
His eyes flicked toward us.
Toward Lord Ten.
Toward the Five Kings.
Then back down.
A lesser warrior would have asked why.
A proud one would have asked how such a command could serve loyalty.
Bale did neither.
"If that is what you request of me, Lord Pluto," he said, "then as Founder of the Hounds, it is my duty to lead by example as the first spear."
Lord Pluto's smile became something deeper.
Not joy.
Confirmation.
"Good."
He lifted Shadow slightly, and the crow's eyes flashed with pale light.
"Then we have much to prepare."
The Titans began dismissing their avatars.
One by one, monstrous bodies faded from the court, returning to duties too vast for me to understand. The bone walls stopped humming. The River of Fate withdrew into the floor. The Reapers remained long enough to bow toward Lord Pluto before turning as one.
Bale stayed kneeling.
Still waiting.
Still steady.
Still flesh and blood among Death's highest court.
And I finally understood what the court had tested.
Not his strength.
Not his fame.
Not his million-year hunt.
His answer.
Would Bale serve only when the command looked like loyalty?
Or would he act when duty demanded something that looked like aid to a rival?
Lord Pluto had his answer.
Duty had called.
Bale had raised the sword.
Attack or defense no longer mattered.