"I'm a steel that's burning," I said, my voice steady. "Ready to be shaped into anything I should be."
Naestra clapped her hands together dramatically. "Bravo! A poet among warriors!"
Orlan gave a slow nod of approval. "A wise answer. The blade that bends to the forge's will oft outlasts the one that resists its shaping."
"Alright," Sieg cut in. "Enough pleasantries. You found the traces?"
Both Naestra and Orlan turned toward him, the energy shifting.
Naestra stretched her arms, cracking her neck. "Ugh, it's hard to find them, you know? Especially the Twins. So far, we've only killed three Outer Gods who dared to step into this realm."
"The Twins?" I asked.
She wagged a finger. "Two gods. Same mind, different bodies. Annoying as hell."
Orlan stepped forward, his presence heavy as if time itself gathered around him.
"Indeed," he said. "I have scoured the currents of mana, tracing each ripple, each echo that does not belong. Thus far, I have found naught that reeks of the foreign, but I have found something else."
Sieg raised a brow. "Go on."
Orlan clasped his hands behind his back. "There is a place where mana does not merely flow—it converges. Too many currents, too many energies entwined in one space. A gathering point of something… unnatural."
"Where?" Sieg asked.
Orlan turned his hollow gaze to him.
"An abandoned cathedral," he said. "In the forsaken ruins of Varhelm."
Sieg gave a small nod toward Naestra.
And she was gone.
Not a sound. Not a flicker of movement.
One moment she was standing there, and the next—thin air.
I blinked. "Explanation, please?"
Sieg turned to me, arms crossed. "Right. Like I said, we've been hunting Outer Gods—any that dare set foot in our realm. We've killed three so far, including Eindva. But the ones we're really after—the ones who matter most—are the Twins."
I frowned. "The ones Naestra mentioned?"
"Aye," Sieg confirmed. "They're the ones who opened the first portal, allowing these other Gods to slip into our world. If we can kill them, we might be able to seal the way entirely. Cut off the rest of them before they ever step foot here."
Orlan let out a low, thoughtful hum. "Yet the currents of fate are seldom so kind. Their hands shape the threads of existence from beyond our reach. To find them is to unravel the very fabric of their schemes."
"Meaning?" I asked.
"Meaning," Sieg said, "they're tricky bastards. Even for us."
I exhaled. "So, three Gods dead so far?"
"Aye," Sieg said. "I killed two. Orlan killed one."
I glanced at the skeletal sorcerer. "Impressive."
Orlan inclined his head slightly. "A mere necessity. When one dances upon the precipice of eternity, one must learn to step with care."
Sieg ignored him and focused back on me. "The Twins are different. Stronger. Smarter. They don't just walk among us—they manipulate from the shadows, bending reality itself to their will. Killing them won't be easy."
I nodded. Then, after a pause—
"And these Twin Gods?" I asked. "Who are they?"
"We have no clue either," Sieg admitted. "Never seen them. Never heard their names. But—" he tapped the hilt of his sabre, the strange, light-devouring blade at his side, "—I took their sword."
That caught my attention.
"Their sword?"
"Aye. Ripped it from their hands during our last encounter. They got away, but they left this behind." Sieg ran a finger along the edge. "Haven't seen them since."
Orlan shifted slightly, his robes rustling. "And I," he said, voice quiet, "bear their curse."
I frowned. "Curse?"
Sieg gestured toward him. "Orlan. The man who cannot die."
I blinked. "Wait—you're immortal?"
Orlan simply inclined his head.
"That's wonderful," I said, almost without thinking.
Because it was.
Immortality.
I let my thoughts wander for a moment. If I had that kind of power—if death itself could never touch me—who would stand in my way? Not even Sieg. Not even the gods themselves.
Orlan, however, let out a quiet, hollow sigh.
"A gift, some might say," he murmured. "Yet a gift unasked is oft but a chain in disguise."
His empty sockets settled on me, as if he could see my thoughts forming.
"Tell me, young Voller—wouldst thou still hunger for eternity, knowing that all else withers while thee remain?"
I met his hollow gaze, unflinching.
"What does it matter?" I said, my voice steady. "The world withers whether I am here or not. Time rots flesh, rusts steel, crumbles kingdoms. No man, no beast, no god is immune to it."
I lifted a hand, curling my fingers into a fist.
"But strength?" My grip tightened. "Strength defies time. Strength is eternal. If I must stand alone, unchanging, while the world decays around me—so be it. As long as I am strong, nothing else matters."
Orlan studied me for a long moment.
Then, he chuckled. A sound like dry leaves brushing over forgotten stone.
"A blade that fears not the forge, nor the toll it demands." He nodded, as if amused by my answer. "I wonder, young Voller—will thou sharpen thyself into a weapon of legend? Or grind thy edge into ruin?"
Before I could answer, Naestra was back.
She reappeared just as suddenly as she had vanished, dusting off her hands like she had just finished a chore.
"Good find, skelly." She yawned, stretching her arms overhead. "It's a cult."
Sieg raised a brow. "Cult?"
Naestra nodded. "Yeah, they're holed up in that cathedral skelly found. Seems like they're worshiping something. Couldn't tell what exactly, but—" she made a vague gesture, "—it looks like a man. With the head of a bat."
That caught everyone's attention.
"Could be an Outer God," she continued, "since they're singing praises and all that weird shit. Or—" she shrugged, "—maybe they're just freaks."
Sieg's fingers tapped idly against the hilt of his sabre.
"Man with the head of a bat," he muttered. Then, he turned to Orlan. "That ring a bell, Orlan?"
Orlan remained still for a long moment, his empty sockets unreadable. Then, finally, he nodded.
"Yes," he said, his voice laced with something rare—something close to unease.
"If mine guess is correct, then the being they revere is none other than Vraxxis."
Sieg frowned. "And what is he?"
Orlan's fingers curled slightly, as if grasping something unseen. "He is no god. Nay, he is something far older. He is a Primal Sin. In my lifetime, I have seen them once, wiping out a kingdom easily."
A silence fell over the camp.
Even Naestra, who always had something to say, said nothing.
"You're sure?" Sieg asked, his tone unreadable.
Orlan nodded. "His name lingers in forgotten tongues, whispered by those who still remember the dark. He is known by many titles, but one stands above the rest—'The Monster Maker.'"
A Primal Sin.
The words lingered in my mind like an old ghost.
I had heard of them before. Every soldier had. Every child who grew up in Valkthara had at least heard their names spoken in legend. Beings older than gods. Creatures that existed before the realms themselves had settled.
They were the first. The ones who shaped the land, the skies, the waters. Some were said to be benevolent, bringing life and balance to the world—while others only sought death. Chaos. Destruction.
But they weren't real.
They were stories.
Warnings told by the elders to remind us of how fragile life was. Soldiers spoke of them as myth, as things to fear in the dark, but no one had actually seen one.
Not in my lifetime.
Not in any lifetime.
But Orlan had.
And that realization settled over me like ice.
If even he—someone who had lived long enough to see the rise and fall of empires—believed in them…
Then maybe they weren't just legends after all.
"Or!" Naestra's voice cut through my thoughts. "Could be Nyxar."
I blinked, turning toward her.
She was now holding a crumpled piece of parchment, flipping it between her fingers like it was a playing card.
"A god from another realm," she continued. "I've visited his shrine before when I was hopping around. Pretty popular guy."
Sieg arched a brow. "Popular?"
Naestra nodded. "Yeah. Real big with cultists. Blood sacrifices, rituals, weird-ass chants—whole deal. And if my memory serves correctly…" she tapped the parchment against her temple, "the cult I found here? They were singing the same songs."
Sieg exhaled. "So either a Primal Sin or another Outer God."
"Or both!" Naestra grinned. "Wouldn't that be fun?"