The Broken Halo

The road around Simon had become strangely quiet.

Heat still rose from the trench Darius had set alight. Broken stone lay scattered across the abandoned positions, and the ashes of Solace rested near the long furrow Simon’s boot had carved into the ground.

Yet the wind barely disturbed anything. It curved around the restored body standing before him, leaving the red hair and torn clothing motionless. The god’s hands remained at his sides, and his eyes were still closed.

Simon watched him without lowering the Chaos Blade.

Elsewhere, the invasion continued.

Cannon beams crossed the mountain basin, striking trenches and barriers. Demons climbed the roads beneath the remaining watchtowers while human formations flashed between their pillars. Higher above, powerful Demon Slayers and Demon Lords exchanged attacks that shook the clouds.

Near Frostveil, the blizzard continued turning around Elara’s phoenix. Sonya remained inside the enormous earth shell.

Simon had a feeling that he needed to reach her, but the being before him made that short journey feel impossibly distant.

’Which god is it?’

The question moved through his mind as he examined Darius’s face. No wounds remained. The boy’s features were unchanged, but the stillness occupying them made him look unfamiliar.

A god associated with fire would explain the compatibility with the phoenix. Hunting might explain the nose. But neither adequately explained the way anger and excitement had strengthened Darius’s body.

Simon did not mistake the closed eyes for an opportunity.

’He doesn’t need to look at me to know where I am.’

He kept his breathing even. His instincts continued warning him, but he refused to let urgency turn into a careless movement.

Then a scream rose from farther down the slope.

Simon barely noticed the first. There had been thousands since the invasion began.

The next made his brows draw together.

It was followed by laughter, then a furious roar loud enough to drown an officer’s order. Rifles began firing in ragged bursts. Somewhere beyond the ruined road, repeated impacts came faster and faster, accompanied by a voice screaming the same word.

”Die! Die! DIE!”

Simon glanced toward the sound.

Through Sky Eye, he saw a human straddling a fallen demon. His sword had broken. He was still driving the remaining blade downward, ignoring the blood spilling from his own side.

Nearby, a demon abandoned cover and threw himself into a shield line. He took a spear through the shoulder, grabbed its shaft, and used it to pull the human wielding it closer.

Neither tried to disengage.

’What is happening?’

Simon looked farther across the battlefield.

The change was not confined to one skirmish. Humans who had been retreating turned back. Demons pressed through attacks they should have avoided. Battle cries became harsher, and the gaps between them filled with laughter that sounded increasingly wild.

They were not all losing their judgement. But too many were becoming eager at once.

Pain no longer seemed sufficient to make them hesitate. Hatred that had already filled the basin was growing sharper, hungrier, demanding another strike even when retreat would have kept its owner alive.

The noise became disturbing.

Simon perceived a change from Darius’ body and he turned back.

Markings had appeared on Darius’s face.

Two broad black bands descended from his hairline, passed over his closed eyelids, and ended at his jaw. A narrow crimson stripe ran through the centre of each band, straight and sharply defined.

Simon had watched the face moments earlier. The markings had not been there.

Beneath the torn breastplate, two black spear shapes crossed over the sternum. Their points angled upward toward the collarbones, while their shafts extended toward the lower ribs. Thin red borders outlined both weapons.

More black bands continued over the exposed shoulders and down the outer sides of his arms. They narrowed at the wrists and ended in red points across the backs of his hands.

There were no flames within them. The crimson lines darkened with the colour of fresh blood.

Another roar travelled up from the trenches. The markings pulsed once, so faintly that an ordinary observer might have missed it.

Simon’s expression became extremely solemn when he saw the markings.

The crossed spears. The bands over the eyes. The sudden hunger for battle spreading through humans and demons alike.

He recognised the signs.

’The God of War.’

Not merely a god whose followers fought. One of the powerful and terrifying gods whose existence had already been known during Simon’s previous life.

And Simon was standing on a battlefield before him.

The realisation made every sound from the basin feel different. The screams were no longer distant details. Every clash seemed to confirm that this was precisely where the being before him belonged.

’Of all the gods...’

Darius’s abilities made considerably more sense now. His eagerness for battle. His growing strength. The violence that answered his anger, and the nose that had recognised something dangerous before understanding what it was.

Simon had killed the chosen human of the God of War.

His fingers adjusted around the sword’s hilt. Fearless kept terror from overwhelming his mind, but it did not make the difference in power between him and the God of War disappear.

The god opened his eyes.

The irises were iron-grey, encircled by narrow rings of dark crimson. At the centre of each rested a black cross, its four ends tapering into spear points.

There was nothing of the phoenix’s fire in them.

They settled on Simon.

The pressure around him did not suddenly erupt. No invisible hand forced him to his knees. Yet Simon became sharply aware of his stance, the position of his sword, and how little distance separated his body from the being observing it.

Then the gaze moved past him.

The God of War surveyed the basin. He looked toward the rift, followed a cannon beam across the trenches, and watched a distant collision between two powerful combatants.

A slight frown appeared.

”This is where my chosen died?”

His voice was low. It reached Simon without needing to compete with the battle.

The god shook his head.

”Such a mild battlefield. Tame, even.”

His attention passed over the ruined embankment Darius’s spear had pierced.

”How disappointing.”

Simon remained silent.

Towers had fallen. The roads were covered in bodies. Sonya had nearly died, Rellis was dead, and powerful beings were still tearing apart the sky above them.

The god had looked at all of it and found it lacking.

There was no boast in his tone, and that made the judgement more unsettling.

His gaze lowered to the broken armour covering his borrowed body. He brushed a loose fragment from the breastplate, exposing unmarked flesh between the dark symbols.

For a moment, he studied the place where the Chaos Blade had entered.

Then he looked properly at Simon.

His eyes moved from his single horn to his white hair, then settled on his sky-blue eyes. They lingered there before passing over the wrappings and the black sword held at Simon’s side.

Simon allowed no unnecessary change in his expression.

The god had already seen enough to become interested. That might keep him alive for another breath. It might also expose things Simon desperately needed to keep hidden.

The disappointment slowly left the god’s face.

His head tilted slightly.

Simon felt the scrutiny linger, as though the answer should have been obvious and had somehow refused to appear.

”Who are you?”

The god paused. His iron-grey eyes narrowed.

”No.”

The distant battle roared behind him.

”What are you?”