Phastos had returned to the Domo, skillfully maneuvering the ship away from the battlefield, his mind already calculating a more suitable location to land. Meanwhile, Makkari and Ikaris assumed the crucial role of scouts. She was a blur of motion, the world bending around her as she swept through the terrain, her super-speed allowing her to survey vast distances in mere moments. Above, Ikaris soared effortlessly, his sharp gaze cutting through the clouds, scanning the horizon for any surviving Deviants that might be lurking in the shadows. Together, they covered land and sky, their vigilance unyielding.
Elsewhere, Gilgamesh, Thena, and Kingo moved through the remnants of the battlefield, working in silent coordination. The ruins of tents lay scattered, the air thick with the remnants of smoke and dust. With practiced ease, they cleared away the wreckage, their movements efficient and deliberate, carving out an open space where new beginnings could take root.
Near Ajak, you stood, watching as Sersi and Sprite wove through the villagers. Sersi's presence was calming, her gentle words and soothing touch easing the fear in those who had lost everything. With a mere press of her fingers to stone, broken structures began to mend, fractures closing, the remnants of devastation reshaped into something whole once more. Beside her, Sprite's illusions blurred the sharp edges of ruin, weaving beauty into despair, giving the villagers a moment's respite from the reality of their losses. The injured moved slowly toward Ajak, drawn by the warmth of her healing touch, their pain easing with every breath.
"Seidon, Sersi, Sprite, you're up," said Ajak.
The command carried through the air, firm yet steady. Rising from your kneeling position, you pressed your fingers into the dirt one last time, feeling the cool, fractured earth beneath your touch. The lifeless Deviants scattered across the field lay still, their twisted forms remnants of the battle's violence. As you stepped forward, the space cleared for you, anticipation thrumming in the air.
Taking your place between Sersi and Sprite, a silent understanding passed between the three of you as you turned your collective focus towards the open expanse ahead. Sersi gracefully knelt onto one knee, her palms pressing into the soil, her cosmic energy sinking into the earth. You and Sprite extended your palms, unleashing a surge of cosmic light that radiated from your eyes.
Harnessing your elemental power, you channeled it with care, feeling the earth quiver beneath your fingertips as it yielded to your command. The buried streams responded, seeping through the fractured ground, their shimmering currents coiling like liquid veins beneath the surface. Beside you, Sersi moved with quiet precision, molding the soil and water you summoned, shaping them into the very foundation of a new beginning. With each practiced gesture, she wove life into the barren space, sculpting the raw elements into something tangible, something lasting.
At the same time, Sprite's illusions shimmered into existence, a veil of artistry and protection. Her conjurations softened the stark transformation, dulling the edges of disbelief in the watching eyes of the humans. The ruined remnants of tents melted into sturdy piles of bricks, rising steadily as gentle gusts of wind carried them aloft, each piece slotting into place with effortless grace. Sersi turned a broken wagon into a smooth platform of polished stone, her fingers brushing along its wooden edge as it shimmered into shape. Sprite wove an illusion of finished pillars so together you could imagine their final form.
You stood beside a cracked aqueduct, hand resting against the dry channel as water slowly began to flow again.
A boy peeked from behind a stone arch, wide-eyed as the aqueduct sprang to life. His mother caught him by the shoulders, whispering something into his ear—words you couldn't hear, but felt in the weight of her gaze. Reverence.
Not fear. Not yet.
Further down the slope, a group of farmers laid down their tools—not in exhaustion, but wonder. One knelt, pressing a hand to the newly flowing stream as if to test whether it was real.
What had once been a landscape of loss now stood as a testament to resilience—rows of humble dwellings, shaped not by divine intervention but by the hands of those who walked among them.
The moment hung, fragile and still, until Sprite's voice punctuated the quiet, tinged with admiration. You turned, catching the lingering awe in the eyes of the gathered humans, their wonder palpable. A mischievous impulse overtook you, and before Sprite could react, your arm hooked around her shoulders, fingers ruffling through her hair before launching into an assault of playful tickles.
"Not too shabby yourself!" you chuckled, her laughter bright and unrestrained as she twisted in a futile attempt to escape.
A presence materialized beside you, warm and steady. Ajak. Her hand settled lightly on your shoulder, grounding you in the shared moment of triumph.
"Nice work," she said, her voice carrying the weight of quiet approval.
"Thank you, Ajak," you replied, releasing Sprite at last. She huffed, brushing her hair back into place before letting her illusions fade. As reality reasserted itself, the returning villagers blinked, their gazes shifting between the transformed space and their own hands, as if uncertain whether to believe in the miracle before them.
Ajak's touch lingered, a silent acknowledgment of what had been achieved, before she gestured towards the others. In unison, you moved as one, a quiet force bound by purpose. Phastos's voice guided your steps, leading you towards the Domo's new resting place.
The sky had turned copper, casting long shadows across the hills. You remained still beside the Domo entrance, high on the hill, watching as the villagers began to return to their homes.
"You're thinking too far ahead again," Ajak's voice came, gentle but steady.
You didn't turn, your gaze still fixed on the hustle and bustle below. "Do you think they will ever truly welcome us?"
She stood beside you, her gaze following the same line of rooftops. 'In due time. They will understand.
You were quiet for a moment. Then, softer:
"How many generations will it take?"
Ajak laid a hand on your shoulder. "I suppose we'll find that out together."
"After all, we have all the time we need."
Time flowed without restraint, the days melting into months, the months dissolving into years. The ceaseless tide of existence wove itself into an intricate tapestry, each passing moment a thread in the grand design. You had walked this world for over a century, your presence etched into its unfolding story. The rhythm of life pulsed through you—the turn of the seasons, the shifting constellations, the silent echoes of civilizations rising and fading like whispers on the wind. In this expanse of time, you have witnessed the rise and fall of generations, witnessed history unfold, and etched your own indelible mark upon the fabric of existence.
Over the course of hundreds of years, your collective efforts have woven an unshakable foundation for humanity. Each of your kin has played their part, the Thinkers and the Fighters alike, shaping the world with both wisdom and strength. You, with your mastery over fire, water, soil, and air, have been a quiet force of guidance, nudging humankind toward understanding the power of these natural elements. Fire for warmth and protection, water for sustenance and growth, soil for agriculture, and air to sustain life—each revelation, each lesson, carefully imparted with patience.
Sersi, ever nurturing, has been at the heart of agricultural advancement. Under her careful instruction, humans have come to understand the land, learning to till the soil, sow seeds, and reap the bounty of their labor. The knowledge she has shared has turned barren fields into thriving landscapes, ensuring that no man, woman, or child would suffer from hunger so long as they tended to the earth.
Thena, Gilgamesh, and Kingo, the warriors among you, have stepped forward as protectors and teachers. Through rigorous training, they have imparted the art of combat to those willing to learn, preparing humanity to defend itself against the dangers of the world. Every movement taught, every strike perfected, was done with purpose—to grant them the strength to stand on their own.
Word of the settlement spreads beyond its borders, whispered among wandering tribes and distant communities. The marvels of this place, the impossible feats that have turned mere survival into prosperity, draw the curious and the hopeful. Pilgrims arrive in increasing numbers, eyes wide with wonder as they seek to witness the miracles firsthand. Some come in reverence, others in desperation, all yearning for a glimpse of the divine hands that have shaped this world.
Ajak watches the growing influx of people with quiet concern. What is an oasis of peace to humans may be a beacon to their predators. She foresees the dangers that come with such attention—the greater the gathering, the stronger the lure for the Deviants. To counter this, Ikaris and Makkari take on the duty of vigilant scouts, weaving through sky and land, their eyes ever watchful for the first sign of an impending threat.
And Ajak was right.
Peace never lingers where the stars still watch.
******
575 BC - Babylon:
The Glorious Ishtar Gate, adorned with vibrant blue tiles and glistening gold foil, stood as a proud testament to human creativity and perseverance, basking in the radiant sunlight. Every intricate relief, each meticulously placed brick, bore witness to the resilience and ambition of those who had built it. Though human progress had been slower than some among you had expected, there was no denying the magnitude of their achievements. With the knowledge imparted to them, they had shaped an empty expanse into a city teeming with life, an empire etched into the very bones of the earth.
True to Ajak's foresight, as more sought refuge within the city's protective walls, the Deviants grew emboldened. No longer lurking in the shadows, they struck with greater ferocity, drawn to the density of human life like predators sensing prey. Inside the Domo, the usual hum of quiet industry fractured as hurried footsteps reverberated through its halls. Then came the alarm—a piercing wail that sliced through the air, a warning as clear as it was dire.
The Fighters responded with unspoken synchronicity, their weapons forming in hand as they moved with purpose, a force of unwavering resolve. Thena's grip tightened around her blade, Gilgamesh's fists pulsed with raw energy, Ikaris's gaze sharpened as he took to the skies. Makkari and Kingo followed, each assuming their role without hesitation. At the same time, Sersi, Sprite, Druig, and Phastos made their way toward the city gates, their presence a silent promise of aid to the humans who would soon flee toward sanctuary.
Your instincts surged, the call of battle thrumming through your veins as you summoned the air to your will. With a mere thought, the winds obeyed, lifting you effortlessly toward the highest point of the Ishtar Gate. As your feet found purchase atop the towering structure, your gaze swept across the landscape beyond the city walls. The horizon churned with movement—swirling dust clouds kicked up by the desperate feet of those on the outskirts, their forms barely visible against the shifting haze. They ran, their silhouettes small against the vastness of the approaching storm, each one pushing forward, desperate to reach the safety of the city's embrace.
From your elevated perch atop the Ishtar Gate, the scene below pulsed with urgency. A tide of humanity surged past, their faces etched with a desperate mix of fear and hope, each step a race against the approaching darkness. The city's protective walls loomed as their salvation, the final barrier between safety and the unknown.
Your gaze flickered to the warriors at your side, each an anchor in the storm. Ikaris soared effortlessly beside you, a sentinel in the skies, his presence an unyielding beacon of vigilance. Below, Makkari, Thena, and Kingo moved with purposeful intent, their stances poised, their energy coiled, waiting for the precise moment to strike. And then there was Gilgamesh—unshaken, immovable—a fortress of sheer strength standing at the threshold of the fray. Together, you formed a bulwark, a silent vow of protection against whatever approached from the dust-choked horizon.
As the people rushed past, their fate resting in the balance, a familiar surge of determination welled within you. It mirrored the resolve in your fellow defenders, a shared purpose binding you all. The storm loomed ever closer, but you stood unwavering, ready to meet it.
You and your kin's senses painted the world with a clarity beyond mortal perception. Every motion, every sound, every tremor in the earth unfolded before you like an unspoken warning. Cries rose from the crowd as the storm took shape—shouts in a dozen dialects, the language of panic needing no translation. The first wave of humans pressed forward, their breath ragged, their feet barely touching the ground as they fled toward the gate. Makkari blurred into motion, a streak of speed as she wove between them, plucking the most vulnerable—the frail, the wounded, the children—from the chaos, guiding them with a touch, a whisper, an unyielding promise of safety.
Behind her, Thena and Kingo advanced, an unspoken command rippling between them. Power radiated from every step, every shift of their stance a declaration of readiness. Then, a sound tore through the air—a screech, guttural and raw, splitting the moment with its jagged edges. The beasts had arrived.
Your sharp hearing honed in on the eerie cacophony, the telltale harbinger of what lurked just beyond the veil of dust. Above, Ikaris was already in motion, his form slicing through the sky, his gaze locked onto a descending shadow. A Deviant, wings spread wide, talons poised to strike. He accelerated, the air trembling in his wake, his entire being focused on the singular objective of interception.
As the chaos unfolded, your enhanced senses tethered you to your fellow kins, each playing their part in the oncoming battle. You were a force of extraordinary beings, standing at the precipice of darkness, ready to protect those who had placed their faith in the city's walls.
A surge of determination ignited within you as the sight of the encroaching Deviants and the vulnerable humans they hunted fueled your resolve. Purpose anchored your every movement, the weight of responsibility pressing against your core. Your eyes shimmered with an ethereal glow, the manifestation of your celestial power flickering to life as you reached out—not with your hands, but with your will. The very air itself bent to your command, responding as if it had always belonged to you. The earth trembled. Soil surged upward, rising in great swaths, thick and unyielding, an impenetrable wall forged from the very land itself. The barrier carved a decisive line between chaos and sanctuary, a silent testament to your unwavering commitment. The humans, once scattered in terror, now stood shielded from the oncoming storm, their frantic breaths slowing as the realization of safety settled upon them.
Now that the scattered humans took shelter behind the barrier you summoned, you can smell the blood reeked in the air. Without thinking any otherwise, your subconscious reacted, and a ripple of warmth energy surged forward from within you. As the warmth reached its next attendee, you started to feel drained as your power kept releasing. The more it reached, the more the energy slipped beyond your grasp, refusing to return. And you started to feel sweat beaded on your forehead.
With the burden of protection shifted to your shoulders, the battlefield shifted in kind. The warriors, now unencumbered by the need to shield the civilians, turned their full attention to the adversaries before them. No longer divided between offense and defense, they moved as they were meant to—unstoppable.
A voice punctured the din of battle, sharp and unmistakably indignant.
"Hey, that one was mine!" Kingo's playful protest rang out above the chaos, his usual exuberance undampened by the surrounding danger. His energy crackled, his stance poised for the perfect shot—only to find his intended target felled by another. His gaze snapped to the culprit.
Thena.
Her blade had already struck, a blur of calculated precision, severing the Deviant before Kingo could unleash his power. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. He knew better than to take it personally—after all, he held nothing but admiration for Thena. She was one of the finest warriors among them, a force honed into something dangerously beautiful.
Yet, it didn't change the fact that their fighting styles existed at odds. Where he embraced battle with a flourish, reveling in the thrill of combat, Thena wielded efficiency like a blade—swift, clean, and absolute. There was no room for indulgence, no space for the spontaneity he so craved. Each time her deadly grace cut short the chaotic splendor of the fight, he felt a pang of something unspoken, a longing for the unpredictable sparks that once defined his battles.
And yet, despite their differences, his respect for her never wavered. Thena's unparalleled prowess remained unshaken, a testament to the intricate dynamics and contrasting temperaments that wove their way through the ranks of the remarkable eleven.
"Oh, never mind!" The battle surged on, a relentless storm of movement and raw power. Kingo shook off his momentary distraction, his instincts snapping back into focus. With a flick of his wrist, energy crackled at his fingertips, coalescing into a concentrated burst of power. The shot rang true, striking the incoming Deviant with pinpoint accuracy. Its screech was cut short as it collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Across the battlefield, a seamless interplay of strength and speed unfolded. Ikaris descended like a meteor, his presence a force of unwavering might. In one fluid motion, he intercepted a spider-like Deviant lunging toward a defenseless girl, his grip locking onto one of its lethal claws and driving it into the dirt. His focus flickered for only a fraction of a second—just long enough to seize another limb and wrench it free, disarming the creature before it could retaliate.
The opportunity was all Makkari needed. A streak of crimson lightning, she wove through the fray, her momentum building with every step. The air trembled in her wake before exploding outward—a sonic boom of staggering force. The impact sent the towering Deviant reeling, its monstrous form thrown violently to the side. Yet before it could recover, she struck again. And again. A blur of relentless motion, she darted through its defenses, delivering punishing blows faster than the eye could track. Every strike drove it further back, forcing it against the crumbling stone wall, its colossal frame wavering under the relentless assault.
The final push came not from brute strength alone, but from precision and coordination. As the creature teetered on the edge, you commanded the ground beneath it to yield. Stone cracked and gave way, the carefully laid trap springing to life beneath its weight. Gravity did the rest. With a deafening crash, the Deviant plummeted into the pit, its furious roars swallowed by the earth itself.
In the chaos of battle, the cohesion of your fighting skill shone through—each movement a thread in the intricate tapestry of victory, each decision a testament to the power you wielded together.
Yet the fight was not over.
You had dealt with the bulk of the attackers, but one remained.
A behemoth.
"Oh boy, that is a big one..." exclaimed Kingo.
"Quickly, inside the gate!" Gilgamesh's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos with the weight of command. The urgency in his tone left no room for hesitation. His towering presence, an unshakable bastion amidst the storm, guided the last of the fleeing humans through the safety of the gate. Only when the final straggler passed beyond the threshold did he allow himself a brief moment of relief. A warm smile flickered across his face—a quiet victory amidst the relentless battle. But respite was fleeting.
Turning back to the battlefield, his gaze locked onto the monstrous adversary looming before him. The creature was massive, its grotesque form radiating unrelenting malice. Yet, against Gilgamesh's unwavering resolve, its sheer size meant little. A warrior forged in centuries of conflict, he squared his shoulders, unyielding in the face of the beast's challenge.
"Oh, this is gonna be fun..." Anticipation gleamed in his eyes as his cosmic energy surged, golden gauntlets materializing with a radiant glow. With a single, earth-shaking punch, he sent the Deviant hurtling skyward, its massive frame flipping wildly through the air. The battlefield momentarily stilled as all eyes followed the creature's spiraling ascent. But the triumph was short-lived.
Recovering mid-air, the Deviant twisted, its predatory instincts taking hold. With a guttural snarl, it retaliated, striking with devastating force. The impact reverberated through the air as Gilgamesh was sent hurtling backward, his massive form tearing through the battlefield like a comet. The force of the blow carried him far beyond the fray, the ground rushing up to meet him with merciless certainty.
Then—a flash of lightning.
Makkari.
A crimson streak tore across the battlefield, splitting the air with raw velocity. She moved faster than thought, her form a blur against the carnage. In the span of a heartbeat, she intercepted Gilgamesh mid-flight, her hands gripping him with unwavering precision.
The impact never came.
With a deft maneuver, she shifted the momentum, her body bending with the force as she guided him safely back to solid ground. The world caught up in slow motion, the dust settling as Gilgamesh found his footing once more, steadied by the one who had never let him fall.
The two stood side by side, the battle raging around them, but in that moment, they were unshaken. The heroic duo, united in their determination, stood as a testament to the bonds forged amidst adversity and the unwavering commitment to safeguarding one another, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
The realization that even the mighty Gilgamesh was being tested by the sheer ferocity of this adversary cast a solemn shadow over the battlefield. Yet, there was no hesitation in your stance as you remained atop the gate, a steadfast sentinel amidst the chaos. From above, Ikaris streaked through the sky, his piercing gaze assessing every movement below, a beacon of strength in the storm of battle. On the ground, Thena, Kingo, and Makkari exchanged a single glance—no words were needed. The moment demanded unity. A shared resolve ignited within them as they moved as one, their bodies and abilities converging in perfect synchronicity. Each strike, each motion, was a seamless thread in the intricate dance of war, woven together by instinct and purpose. In this moment, you were not individual warriors, but a singular force, an unbreakable wall against the darkness.
With practiced precision, the six of you descended upon the colossal Deviant, a relentless storm of blows striking true. Each hit reverberated with unyielding power, the beast recoiling under the force of your collective assault. As your companions unleashed their formidable abilities, you extended your reach beyond the physical, commanding the very air to bend to your will. The wind howled in response, coiling around the creature's limbs, pinning it in place with an invisible grip. Gravity itself turned against it, rendering its monstrous form momentarily helpless.
Seizing the opportunity, a deafening sonic boom shattered through the battlefield. Makkari's speed met raw force, launching the Deviant backward, its massive body colliding with the Ishtar Gate in a catastrophic impact. Shards of blue and gold rained down as the once-pristine tiles fractured, the ornate facade left marred by the intensity of the battle. The destruction was undeniable, but so was your resolve.
"Guys, watch the gate!" you barked in frustration, irritation flickering beneath the surface. You were already preparing to finish the beast, intending to call upon the earth itself to swallow it whole. But fate had other plans.
The Deviant stirred.
A guttural growl tore through the silence as it rallied for one final stand. Its movements were sluggish, pained, but determined. The battle was not yet over.
Gilgamesh moved before anyone else could react. The ground trembled beneath the weight of his charge, his cosmic energy surging through his form. His fist, glowing with raw power, connected with the creature in a single devastating strike, the force behind it sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. At the same time, you tightened your hold over the winds, twisting the air like unseen chains, forcing the Deviant down, refusing to let it rise again.
With a final, resounding "Bam!" the beast collapsed, its last remnants of strength extinguished beneath the combined might of your team.
Silence settled over the battlefield, the echoes of war fading into the distance as the dust slowly drifted to the earth. The victory was hard-earned, but it was undeniably yours.
As the exhilaration of triumph coursed through your veins, you willed the wind to carry you downward, trying to descend as effortlessly as a feather drifting through the air. Power and grace would have intertwined, but you landed a bit unsteady next to Gilgamesh among your comrades. His broad hand quickly landed on your shoulder as he tried to help you stand steady. You locked gaze with his concerning eyes, trying to hide the dizziness and that sharp pain blooming in your chest away. You whispered a thank you to him. The echoes of battle still lingering in the dust-choked air. The fight was over, yet the bond between you remained steadfast—an unbreakable force forged through purpose and unwavering resolve.
"It's a long process for me to replace those," you muttered, casting a glance at the shattered remnants of the gate.
Gilgamesh grinned, ruffling his hair with a sheepish chuckle. "Sorry…" He stuck out his tongue in playful defiance.
You exhaled, shaking your head. For all his overwhelming strength, Gilgamesh had a way of disarming frustration with nothing more than that boyish, unrepentant charm. A puppy dog face didn't typically suit a warrior of his stature, but on him, it was almost impossible to resist. And because of that, you could never truly be mad at him.
"I'll inform Ajak that the assault has been taken care of," you said, turning toward the skyline.
The wind stirred at your command, wrapping around you with a familiar embrace as you ascended, hands glowing with cosmic energy. Each motion guided the air with precise intent, lifting you effortlessly toward your destination—the ethereal sanctuary of the Hanging Gardens. As you soared higher, the remnants of battle gave way to serenity, the city's restless hum fading beneath you. Here, above the world, nature thrived in defiance of time and chaos, an oasis suspended between heaven and earth.
The Hanging Gardens stretched before you, a resplendent expanse of cascading greenery and delicate blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze. The soft scent of blooming flora perfumed the air, mingling with the distant murmur of flowing water. Sunlight filtered through the lush canopy, casting golden patterns upon the stone pathways, as if nature itself held its breath in reverence. And there, at the heart of it all, Ajak sat in quiet repose.
It was here, in this harmonious oasis, that Ajak communed with the cosmic forces and delved into profound meditation, finding solace and enlightenment amidst the beauty of the tranquil surroundings.