The Broken Halo

Simon’s first step into the Demon Realm nearly put him on his knees.

Pain travelled from his shoulders into his back. The Chaos Wraps tightened before his right wrist bent beneath the sword’s weight, and blood dripped from the fingers they held against its hilt.

The Death Heaven Owes had damaged more than his arms. Even drawing breath pulled at muscles he had barely noticed tearing during the technique.

’Still attached. That will have to do.’

He guided a thin stream of demonic energy toward the worst injuries. Unholy Regeneration began reconnecting torn tissue beneath the wraps, but he resisted the urge to force more power through it.

A stronger pulse made his forearm spasm.

’Repair the pathways first. Then move.’

He could feel the space around him, but using it was another matter. Attempting another teleportation now might leave him unconscious or worse before he arrived anywhere.

Beyond the red light, the familiar encampment spread before him.

Demons stood in the ranks prepared for the crossing. Officers remained between the waiting units, and the formations sustaining the rift continued working behind him. It was the same camp he had left to enter Earth.

Only now, nobody was advancing.

”Why are we still waiting?”

”The order hasn’t changed.”

”Then tell us what happened!”

The complaints faltered as more faces turned toward him.

”Blackmoon?”

A demon near the front leaned forward. His eyes moved over Simon’s bloodstained clothing and the black strips holding his arms together.

”Where is his assault core?”

Simon took another step.

The nearest demons moved aside, but none reached out to help him. Curiosity mixed with suspicion. Farther back, those who could not see him properly demanded to know why the front ranks had fallen quiet.

His expression remained calm, but numerous thoughts were going through his head.

There were too many bodies between him and an escape route. Even if they parted, he could not fight or flee properly in this condition. He needed his pathways repaired enough to withstand more than the careful circulation keeping him upright.

Simon glanced back, and he saw that no demon, human, or the god of war was stepping out of it.

No iron-grey eyes. No black markings. No hand reaching through to drag him back.

’Not following yet?’

His gaze narrowed.

The cut had damaged the borrowed body’s channels. Perhaps the god was repairing them before crossing.

’He’s more cautious than I expected.’

Just as he had this thought, four presences approached through the camp. Simon recognised some more readily than others, but the way the waiting demons straightened told him enough before the first figure appeared.

A path opened between the ranks.

Commander Marek walked at its centre. Korran followed beside him, with Vice Commanders Selan and Dorel accompanying them.

The murmurs died.

Marek stopped several paces away. His gaze passed over Simon’s injuries, paused on the Chaos Blade, then moved toward the enlarged rift behind him.

Simon waited.

Korran’s eyes lingered on the blood beneath the wrappings. Neither he nor the other commanders called for a healer.

”What have you done, Blackmoon?” Marek asked.

Simon frowned.

”Tried to survive a god’s attempt to kill me.”

Marek’s expression did not change.

”I returned to the Demon Realm,” Simon continued, his voice rough. ”Yet everyone is looking at me as though I crossed with the humans. Not one of you has offered help or called a healer to heal me.”

Dorel’s mouth tightened.

”What did you expect to accomplish by returning? Who did you think would protect you from the God of War?”

Simon tilted his head.

”So I should have stayed on Earth and allowed him to kill me?”

”Yes,” Marek replied.

The answer came without hesitation.

Simon became still and narrowed his eyes.

”You should have remained on Earth and died there.”

Behind the commanders, a demon drew a sharp breath. Another looked toward the rift, trying to make sense of what Dorel had said.

Marek continued in the same cold tone.

”The god was pursuing you. Now you have led him directly to the army waiting on this side. Do you understand what happens if he comes through?”

”Then prepare for him,” Simon said coldly.

”With what?” Dorel demanded.

Marek lifted one hand, silencing him.

”This is not about whether you wished to live. It is about the force you have endangered to preserve your own life. Every demon here, the resources gathered for this invasion, the entire campaign.”

His eyes settled on Simon.

”If you truly served Velmora, you would not have brought that danger back with you. There is nothing here capable of stopping him from slaughtering this army.”

Suddenly, understanding spread through the ranks.

”The God of War?”

”A human god?”

”He brought a god after him?”

Some looked past Simon as though expecting the being to emerge immediately. Others stepped backward, their anger over the halted crossing disappearing beneath something far less comfortable.

Then their attention returned to the injured demon before them.

One hand tightened around a spear. Another demon’s eyes became filled with hostility.

Simon felt the killing intent gathering and looked at its sources.

They had not known why the crossing stopped. Now they had someone standing within reach to blame for it.

Korran had found plenty to say when he wanted an oath from them. Now the Iron Examiner watched without offering a single word.

Simon’s gaze grew cold.

Then he laughed.

The sound startled those nearest him. It scraped against his injured chest, but he laughed again, without warmth or amusement. A thin killing intent accompanied it.

Korran’s eyes narrowed.

”What is amusing?” Marek asked.

”You.”

Selan’s expression hardened. Simon ignored him.

”I took Ironcrest. My core completed its assignment before any of the others. Do you remember what you gave us afterward?”

Marek said nothing.

”Another order. Ammor’s core. Frostveil. I told you Akaza was injured. I asked who would protect the tower we had taken.”

Simon shifted his weight, concealing the brief weakness in his knee.

”You reminded me of the oath. You made it very clear that refusing you would have consequences.”

”You were ordered to support the advance, not bring a god upon us.”

”And the humans sent their chosen to stop that advance.”

Simon’s voice sharpened.

”Had you left us at Ironcrest, I would not have met him beneath Frostveil. You sent us there. We fought the enemies your order placed before us.”

Something tightened in Marek’s jaw and a vein appeared on his temple.

”Rellis is dead,” Simon continued. ”Sonya, Akaza, and Virella are still on Earth. I don’t know whether any of them will make it back alive.”

For an instant, he remembered the frozen water beside Rellis’s body.

His smile disappeared.

”That is what following your orders cost us. And now that I have survived, you stand here explaining why I should have died?”

A silence spread behind the commanders.

”You speak as though your life outweighs this army,” Marek said.

”No. You speak as though my death would make you a competent commander.”

Dorel took half a step forward.

Simon looked directly at him.

”Were you about to volunteer to fight the god? Or is the wounded Archfiend the only opponent you can find courage against?”

Dorel stopped with a completely dark and ugly expression.

Simon could feel a tendon reconnect beneath his wraps. He kept his arm still. The anger was real, but he had not forgotten what every moment of talking bought him time.

His eyes returned to Marek.

”You had no difficulty sending us where other cores were failing. But when something appears that you cannot manage, your answer is that the soldier obeying you should have died before the problem reached your feet.”

His gaze passed over Korran, Selan, Dorel, then the watching ranks.

”How pathetic.”

Several demons bristled. A low growl rose somewhere behind Dorel.

Simon turned toward it.

”There it is. Anger. So you are still capable of it.”

Nobody answered.

”A god is coming into the Demon Realm. An enemy of your kind. He called your realm lowly and your Demon Kings pathetic.”

He glanced toward the rift, then back at them.

”And you save your killing intent for the demon who survived him?”

His voice dropped, carrying clearly through the silence.

”Are you demons? Or are you no different from the humans you mock for fearing you?”

Simon looked straight at Marek.

”The humans fear demons. You fear gods. Apart from who frightens you, what is the difference?”