The violence felt good, a release of nerves clumped in his chest. Since Torin and Marina’s duel, Acacius couldn’t peel away the image of Torin bashing her face into the stone, again and again. The fracturing of her face, it tightened his chest.
A wicked smile broke apart his mouth, and he punched the god once more.
“See what we are doing here, Torin?” His knuckles kept on. The bones in the god’s face were shattered, barely holding together the battered skin of his cheeks. “I wouldn’t call this a duel, since you aren’t fighting back.”
The deity collapsed to the ground.
Acacius held Torin up by the collar of his shirt, continuing his assault. Blood speckled Acacius’s mask like bursts of oily paint. Under the mangled meat of the night god’s face, the sunken holes of his skull were visible.
Torin coughed and choked, spitting out teeth and stringy, sanguine globs.
Acacius cocked his elbow back. “Learn some etiquette, middle god.” His fingers tightened into his fisted palm, and his divine power streamed up the length of his arm. This time, he would remove Torin’s head from his shoulders.
She’s on our side.
Acacius froze.
Inside of his mind, a channel blossomed.
The calling of one of his Heraldic Olethros.
He accepted the invitation, and the sight of his creature opened behind his eyes.
The Herald showed him its memories in glimpses: how Marina had tracked it down in the streets of Hollow City with another god at her side, the destruction of their fight, and those cursed thorns pinning the creature to a slab of brick.
There was a twinge in his chest, distant through the layers of his clairvoyance. The Himura witch’s words resounded through his mind as the connection to his Herald decayed.
“M-my Lord… I will”—Torin took a wheezy breath, the damage on his face regenerating slowly—“do as you say… next time.”
Acacius’s pulse elevated, and he tightened his grip on Torin’s collar, the fabric wet with gore. It pushed under his fingernails.
All this time.
She worked with Naia to protect the child, as well as another god to track down his monsters in the city and wipe them clean.
Without realizing it, he’d been fighting againstherthis entire time.
Acacius ground his jaw against the stinging of his eyes, his heartbeat pounding painfully in his chest.
He expected his rage to consume him, for his unyielding need for Ruin to bubble up inside of him and steer his actions. All this time, he’d been telling himself that if he destroyed her life, caused her great woe, this hollow cave in his chest would fill.
A melancholic grief stretched across the empty space instead.
Acacius threw Torin backward.
The god fell onto his elbows, relief drooping what was left of his brow. “Th-thank you for another chance, L-Lord Acacius.” His teeth regrew and chattered as he said it.
Acacius stood up and turned his back on him, glaring out into his Stygian wasteland.
She played me again.
From the moment he tracked her down to thatfuckingarena, she’d been waiting for him, wanting to be found. It was so calculated and methodical, so like her, that it sickened him. It’s why she pretended not to give a damn about anything. That dead look in her eyes had been so convincing.
I do not care about anything anymore.
And he’d believed her, like the fool he was.
Beside him, a slit appeared in the air—a thick, cobalt cut that led to the center of Tavora. It was an inky indigo throat to Chaos itself. A grimclickingsounded from within it, a raptorial warning, and a mangled, bestial creature slowly climbed out of the chasm.
