The shockwave leveled what remained of the coliseum walls. Earth split. Dust rose. Every soldier, every survivor, every god and mortal stopped fighting to look.
Jalen landed moments later, walking through the cloud of ash, gauntlet still aglow.
Kieros twitched beneath him—his god-form cracked, collapsing in on itself. His mane no longer burned. His wings of conquest flickered, then faded.
"You…" Kieros choked, clawing at the dirt. "You don't understand what you've done."
Jalen stared down at him, chest rising and falling, blood mixing with the golden light still pulsing beneath his skin.
"No," he said. "You don't."
With one final swing, he drove the chained gauntlet into Kieros' chest, shattering the last of his divine core.
A pulse of crimson light burst outward, and the god of war screamed—his voice echoing like a dying storm—before finally falling silent.
Then—
The mist came.
It rose from Kieros' body like smoke from a dying fire—red and black, swirling with ash and blood. It hovered in the air, almost alive.
Jalen stepped back, watching as the mist twisted upward… then paused.
And a voice spoke—not aloud, but within his mind:
"As long as there is war… There will always be a god to rule it."
Jalen's eyes narrowed.
The mist swirled once more, then slowly sank down into Kieros' chest.
What remained of the war god shuddered—and shrank.
Armor vanished. Flame dissolved.
And in his place…
Lay a lion.
Massive, scarred, but mortal. Its eyes opened once. It looked at Jalen—not with anger, but understanding.
Then it lowered its head and closed its eyes.
Jalen knelt.
He reached into the hollowed crater of Kieros' chest and pulled free a jagged artifact—half-bone, half-metal, and humming with silent power. It pulsed once in his hand.
Then stilled.
Behind him, Nathan, Lucio, and Rhea approached.
Jalen didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Lucio, still catching his breath, looked at the lion, then at Jalen. "So… it's done?"
Jalen turned the artifact over in his palm. "No. It's just started."
Unseen to all of them…The mist from Kieros did not fully fade.
A thread of it curled toward Lucio, almost playful.
And vanished beneath his skin.
He blinked—then shrugged off a strange chill.
That night, the sky above the ruined coliseum had cleared. For the first time in five hundred years, stars shone freely over the war-scorched land.
Tents were pitched. Fires lit. Laughter echoed. Survivors, soldiers, and friends alike gathered around flame and food, their wounds forgotten for a few precious hours.
Kullen sat with Kuromi at a raised table, both nursing mugs of something dangerously strong.
"You gave a decent speech," Kuromi muttered.
Kullen smirked. "I do have my moments."
Nathan leaned back against a rock, eyes closed, feeling time slow just enough to enjoy the stillness. Ember curled beside Rhea's feet, purring with embers crackling from her nose.
Lucio stood at the edge of the firelight, staring up at the stars, a bottle in one hand and something unreadable in his expression.
He didn't feel tired.
He didn't feel relieved.
He felt… weight.
Like something had settled inside his chest.
Behind him, Jalen stepped into view, hair damp, shirt half-buttoned, eyes glowing faintly in the firelight.
"Hey," Jalen said.
Lucio didn't look back. "Hey."
"You good?"
Lucio hesitated. "Yeah."
The celebration pulsed in the distance—laughter, clinking mugs, and music made from makeshift drums and salvaged strings. But beneath the quiet glow of a broken watchtower, far from the noise, Jalen stood alone.
Or so he thought.
"You don't like parties?" Vexa's voice drifted in from behind him.
Jalen didn't turn. "Not when I'm the reason for them."
Vexa stepped beside him, silent at first. Then she leaned against the crumbling stone wall, arms folded, watching the stars.
"They're not just partying," she said. "They're breathing. For the first time in a long time."
Jalen glanced at her, tired eyes still glowing faintly. "So this is the part where you tell me 'thank you, mighty god,' and offer me a statue in your honor?"
She scoffed. "Hardly. But…" She hesitated. "Thank you. You didn't have to come here. You didn't have to stay. But you did."
Jalen looked back up at the stars. "You said you hated gods."
"I do."
"And yet… here I am."
"That's what's so annoying about you."
He chuckled softly. Then fell quiet.
"I didn't want this," Jalen finally said. "The power. The title. The worship. I just wanted to survive and get my people home."
Vexa didn't interrupt.
He continued. "But when I was in that coliseum… when I saw those people looking at me like I was the only thing standing between them and death—I realized something."
He looked down at his hands. No longer bruised. No longer shaking. Still glowing.
"They didn't need a man. They needed something to believe in. And I had the chance to be that. Even if it kills me."
Vexa stared at him for a long moment. "You don't talk like the others did. The gods. You don't wear your power like a crown."
"Because I didn't ask for it."
"No," she said quietly. "But you still carry it better than anyone I've seen."
Jalen studied her, his gaze flicking briefly to her arm.
Blood stained the sleeve near her bicep. A clean but deep cut, probably from the last charge through the chaos.
"You're hurt," he said.
Vexa looked down, surprised by the reminder. "It's nothing. I've had worse."
"I don't care," Jalen replied.
He stepped closer and raised his hand-no divine flourish, no grand gesture. Just a slow, gentle pass over the wound. A soft light pulsed under his fingertips, and the gash closed cleanly, leaving only a faint line.
"I don't want any of my friends to carry wounds when I'm around," he said quietly.
Vexa blinked, caught off guard. Her face flushed. Just slightly—but it was there.
"That's… an annoying habit," she murmured.
Jalen smiled. "You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
He didn't press it. Didn't move.
They stood in silence for a moment longer, the sounds of celebration echoing in the background.
Then Vexa's voice lowered, just above a whisper. "Would it be… alright if I came with you? I don't want to stay here. Not anymore."
Jalen didn't blink.
"Of course," he said, without hesitation.
A small smile tugged at her lips. She didn't say thank you. She didn't need to.
Upon a nearby ridge, two shadows sat watching them—Rhea and Kuromi, both nursing drinks, both trying not to laugh too loudly.
"You think he knows?" Kuromi asked, smirking.
"Nope," Rhea said, grinning. "Not a clue."
Kuromi raised her mug. "Poor bastard's doomed."
The time passed momentarily as the party continued, and before long, Jalen, Kullen, Nathan, and Lucio found themselves gathered around the fire.
The fire crackled wildly at the center of the camp, embers dancing toward the stars. Half-empty mugs littered the ground, and someone had managed to find a lute with only three working strings.
Jalen sat cross-legged near the fire, shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes glossy from drink but bright with laughter.
Lucio was already tipsy, draped across a broken log like it owed him money. "You ever think about how stupid our lives are?" he slurred. "Like, 'Hey, let's fight a god today.' What kind of idiot signs up for that?"
"You did," Nathan replied, calmly sipping from his flask. "Twice."
Kullen, seated beside him with his legs stretched out and a bottle in each hand, raised one. "To poor decisions and barely surviving them."
Jalen snorted. "Barely? We kicked that guy into next week."
Lucio pointed at him, squinting. "Only 'cause you went full shiny mode."
"It's not shiny mode."
"You glowed, bro."
Nathan nodded solemnly. "You did, in fact, glow."
"I'm allowed to glow," Jalen said. "I earned that glow."
Kullen lifted his drink. "Let the man glow."
Lucio raised his mug in return. "To Jalen's glow."
They clinked their mugs together—four idiots who just helped liberate a country.
Nathan blinked slowly. "Wait, did any of us actually come up with a plan for tomorrow?"
Lucio groaned. "Don't say the 'T' word. My brain hurts."
Jalen leaned back against a tree, stretching out with a sigh. "We rest. We heal. Then we head back to Everlock."
"You think they'll even believe this happened?" Kullen asked.
"Nope," Jalen grinned. "But at least we've got good stories."
Lucio raised his cup one last time. "To dumb stories, bad plans, and the dumbasses crazy enough to survive 'em."
All four of them drank.
The fire cracked. Laughter echoed.
There was peace once again.