—It has begun... finally.
The goddess's voice resonated in that infinite space like a soft vibration that, however, carried with it an emotion difficult to hide, a mixture between expectation and an almost forbidden pleasure, as if what she was about to witness was not simply a battle, but a scene carefully designed to satisfy something much deeper than simple divine curiosity.
—The first of the many battles we will see.
The Goddess of the Beginning observed without blinking, her gaze fixed on the scenario unfolding before her, as if every detail had a specific value within a game that only she fully understood, and although her smile was slight and elegant, there was in it an unsettling charge, a dark nuance that revealed that this was not just entertainment, but an emotional bet in which every movement had weight.
Beside her, the God of the Void did not share that intensity, or at least not visibly, as he remained reclined without any formality on the enormous celestial table, with a carefree posture that contrasted completely with the invisible tension that impregnated the environment.
—I see... —he murmured with disinterest, stretching his legs slightly as if settling in to witness something that, although interesting, was still transient for someone of his nature— So the bet has begun.
He barely turned his face toward the goddess, narrowing his eyes with vague curiosity.
—Tell me... what piece on the board has moved, Goddess of the Beginning? After all, it was you who decided to turn all this into a chess game, and it would be interesting to know what piece you considered valuable enough to start the game.
The goddess did not respond immediately, keeping her gaze fixed on the battlefield, as if the answer was so obvious that it did not need to be explained, but still, she let the silence extend long enough to give weight to her words before pronouncing them.
—What piece always moves first...? —she said finally, with absolute calm, almost didactic— It is logical, don't you think?
She made a brief pause.
—Pawns.
Her eyes shone slightly, reflecting the scene she was observing.
—Three simple pawns have advanced to the front... ready to confront each other.
The God of the Void let out a slight exhalation, a mixture between mockery and acceptance, as if that answer was exactly what he expected to hear.
—How appropriate... —he murmured—. Nothing like sacrificing the irrelevant to measure the value of the board.
The silence fell between them again, but this time it was not an empty silence, nor one lacking intention, but one loaded with expectation, like the instant before a piece falls and reveals the true nature of the game being played.
---
The battlefield was breathing.
Not in a literal sense, but there was in the air a pressure so dense that each inhalation seemed heavier than the previous one, as if the world itself were aware of what was about to happen and, in some way, was trying to contain it without success.
Nomura and Arata remained standing in front of Gorgos, motionless, holding their weapons firmly, but that stillness was not a sign of confidence or absolute control, but the reflection of a deep exhaustion that seeped through every small gesture, every irregular breath, every involuntary tension in their muscles, trying to maintain a posture that no longer corresponded to their real state.
Their bodies were at the limit.
And they knew it.
But more importantly...
Gorgos also knew it.
—Ahh... —he let out, dragging the sound with an evident lack of interest, as if he were witnessing something he had already seen too many times—. So... are we going to fight or not?
He brought a hand to his neck, tilting it slightly from side to side, as if trying to relieve a nonexistent stiffness, more out of habit than necessity, while his gaze slid over both heroes with an almost insulting calm.
—I have things to do —he continued—. I must see his majesty... and I also have to kill them.
He smiled.
It was not an aggressive smile.
Not even threatening.
It was worse.
It was natural.
—So decide quickly. We fight... or I kill you without making you waste any more time.
The silence that followed was brief, but heavy.
—Damn idiot... —growled Nomura, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, as if he needed that gesture to remind himself that he could still fight— Do you really think you can kill both of us?
Gorgos tilted his head slightly.
—Mmm... yes.
There was no doubt.
Nor arrogance.
Only certainty.
—Because you two... are not strong.
The words fell without emotional weight, without intention to provoke, as if he were simply pointing out an evident reality that required no discussion.
—Compared to the other heroes... you are disposable.
He took a step forward, slow, carefree.
—You are always the first to die.
A pause.
—The only difference... is that this time you will die by my hand.
The silence that followed was not only uncomfortable.
It was oppressive.
As if the air itself had become denser.
And then...
Gorgos turned around.
Just like that.
Without preparation.
Without warning.
As if the conversation had ended.
—I'd better go —he said, with a slightly disappointed tone— You are too tired. It shows on your faces... your magic is at its limit, your body too.
He barely turned his face.
—I don't understand how you were chosen as heroes.
That instant...
Was all Nomura needed.
His body reacted before his mind could analyze the situation, driven by a mixture of wounded pride, desperation and the need to prove that he could still do something, anything, before it all ended.
—Now!
He lunged forward with all the speed he had left, his sword tracing a perfect line in the air, aimed directly at Gorgos' neck with a precision that, in any other circumstance, would have been enough to end his target's life.
But not this time.
Because the shadow beneath his feet... moved.
—Dat.
The sound was slight.
Almost playful.
And in the next instant, the darkness opened.
The mouth emerged from below, enormous, impossible, with a violence so sudden that it left no room for any reaction.
The teeth closed.
And Nomura ceased to exist as a single entity.
His body was cleanly separated into two halves that fell to the ground with a dull, heavy sound, as if reality itself were confirming that this had not been an illusion.
The blood descended without explosion, without exaggerated drama.
It simply fell.
Inevitable.
Silent.
Arata did not move.
He did not breathe.
He did not think.
His mind emptied completely, unable to process what had just happened, trapped in a loop where the only question that managed to form repeated itself over and over without finding an answer.
—(What do I do...?)
His body began to tremble.
—(What do I do...?)
He could not stop it.
—(What do I do...?)
It was not just fear.
It was the absolute certainty of his own death.
—Aren't you going to attack me, hero Arata?
The voice came too close.
When he reacted, Gorgos was already in front of him, leaning slightly forward, invading his personal space without the slightest respect for distance or combat logic.
His eyes were empty.
His skin, marked by scars that followed no natural pattern, as if he had been imperfectly reconstructed on multiple occasions.
—You... —murmured Arata, with a broken voice— You are a monster...
He raised his hand.
He pointed at him.
—You should be dead...
Gorgos observed him.
In silence.
—You're right.
His voice changed.
It became lower.
Denser.
—But it wasn't you who did this to me.
His fingers slowly traced the scars on his face.
—It wasn't you who opened me... who broke me... who tortured me until my body stopped functioning as it should.
His eyes fixed on Arata's.
—Do you know what it is to feel your own flesh stop obeying you?
He shook his head.
—No, you don't.
A smile formed again.
—Because heroes always think they are right.
He leaned closer.
—Until their creation... escapes them.
Arata stopped breathing for an instant.
—And then... they feel fear.
The black mist stirred behind Gorgos.
—Because they understand... that what they created... is what is going to destroy them.
He took out a small vial.
Inside, an insect was moving.
Too active.
Too alive.
—What... is that...?
—A gift.
He uncorked the vial.
He held Arata's head.
—No... wait-
Too late.
The insect entered through his eye.
The scream was absolute.
Heart-wrenching.
The pain did not stop.
It grew.
Something was expanding inside him.
Roots.
They broke his skin.
His body tensed...
And then remained motionless.
Silence.
Gorgos observed.
—It still doesn't work...
He sighed.
—Another failure.
He looked at the corpse.
—Thank you for the information... Arata.
And he disappeared.
Leaving the place in silence.