The ruined outpost offered little shelter, but it offered something more valuable: answers.
Koronos stood before the ancient inscription, reading it for what must have been the tenth time. Dawn on Hadron was not like dawn anywhere else; it was just a sickly lightening of the perpetual twilight, the distant sun struggling to pierce the pocket dimension's veil. It filtered through broken columns, casting long shadows across the stone.
The words carved into the wall were old. Ancient. But still legible, if you knew how to read them. And with each pass, Koronos understood more.
Not a warning, he realized. A record.
Fragmented accounts, left by those who had been here before. Perhaps even those who had helped build this place, before Supremus made the prison into his home. They spoke of what the metal demigod had been doing through the eons.
Supremus has been draining the raw majik from the planetoid itself, siphoning it like blood from an open wound. Forging an army from that power: golems of black metal, stone and green light, the metal stalkers they'd encountered were only his first creations. Building a portal, like the ancient ones on Terra primius and Sleeping Dragon. Not just any portal, one that could reach any world, any realm, any dimension. Converting the prison into a war machine.
Koronos did the math in his head. The inscriptions suggested the portal was nearly complete. It lacked only one thing: a key, a powerful artifact from before the fall of majik. A focus powerful enough to breach the ancient wards the gods had placed on Hadron. The wards that kept Supremus contained.
The sick realization settled in his stomach like a stone. Zeyzey had the Nexus Key. Zeyzey was with Supremus. Whether she was a traitor, a pawn, or something else entirely, the result was the same. Supremus likely already has what he needs.
He stood apart from the others, staring at the inscriptions without seeing them. His mind ran through every tactical scenario, every possible approach, every contingency he could imagine.
None of them ended well.
A memory surfaced. Not of battle, not of blood; of a burly man with a grizzled beard and a voice like grinding stones. Captain Korvax, his steward back in the green realm. The veteran who had served him faithfully, who had seen him through conflict and wars and the slow work of building a kingdom.
He could almost hear Korvax's voice, "You don't charge a fortified position with four people, my liege. You rally an army. You bring Everliving of your own. You starve them out, you outthink them, you make them come to you."
Sound advice. The advice of a competent commander. The advice Koronos himself would have given, in another time, another place. But Korvax wasn't here. He didn't know what Koronos knew. Months to rally an army and first he's have to get home and the way home is inside that prison fortress. He may have mere days, maybe hours until Supremus breached the wards. The math was brutal. And final.
Koronos closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. The power here was immense, amplified by the raw majik of Hadron. He could feel it. The crystal pulsating heart of the planetoid, beating like a living thing. The Sword of Otepi hummed in his hand, responding to that power.
Could I do it? he wondered. Could I shatter this place? Channel long enough, hard enough... tear the whole planetoid apart… with them upon it?
The thought was tempting. A warrior's death. A final gesture.
But even as he considered it, he knew. Supremus would feel that channeling. Would counter it. Would bring every golem on Hadron down on their position long before Koronos could finish. And even if he succeeded, even if he brought the mountain down... the portal might still be intact. The key might still be delivered. The war might still begin, only with no one to stop the warlock Everliving.
No. That path was closed.
He made up his mind. He was going to stop Supremus. Somehow. He didn't know if he could win. But he knew he had to try. And if trying meant dying, then he would die with the Sword in his hand and his face to the enemy. That was what Korvax would expect. What Otepi would expect. What he expected of himself.
"Koronos." Corvannafax's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood at the ruin's entrance, her silhouette framed by the sickly light. Her hand pointed outward. "Come see."
He joined her, and together they looked out across the crystal plain.
In the distance, surrounding the prison fortress of Hadron like sharks circling prey, were legions. They are gathering. Golems of black stone and green light marched in silent, endless lines. Thousands upon thousands of them, their movements synchronized, their empty eyes scanning for threats. Some of them patrolled in concentric rings, a living fortress of metal and magic that nothing could breach.
Koronos had seen armies. He had led armies. He had never seen anything like this. Supremus hadn't just been building for ten thousand years. He'd been stockpiling. This wasn't a prison guard. It was an invasion force, waiting for its commander to be freed. At the center of it all, the fortress rose like a black fang against the bruised sky. Somewhere in its heart: the throne room. The portal. Supremus and Zeyzey.
Between them and their goal: endless golems, hostile terrain, and a would-be god who had had ten thousand years to prepare. A death trap.
He called them together. Shelove pressed against his shoulder, feeling his turmoil through the Bond. Corvannafax stood ready, her crystal sword never far from her hand. Daggeroth watched with tired eyes that had seen too much and would see more.
Koronos didn't soften it. He told them the truth. "Supremus has an army. We have four. Soon, he's going to launch his attack upon the realms. With the portal he constructed, he can reach any world in the Omniverse. Yours. Mine. All of them. I don't know if we can stop him. I don't know if anyone can."
He looked at each of them in turn. "There are other planetoids. Reachable through the connecting tunnels. Places to hide. To live. To survive, perhaps long enough to live out your lives before the end of days." He paused. "I'm likely going to die when I confront him. You don't have to die with me."
The silence stretched.
Then Corvannafax spoke. "I swore an oath to protect you." Her voice was steady, iron wrapped in leather. "I've followed you across worlds. Through the abyss. Into the darkness. I'm not stopping now because the odds are bad." She gripped her sword. "The odds have always been bad. You're still standing." She met his eyes. "I will not leave you in your greatest hour of need. That's not what shieldmaidens do."
Daggeroth spoke next, quieter but no less certain. "When the Purifiers burned my village and killed my kin, you came. You took me in. When the deep cold settled in my chest, you stayed. When I was nobody, a boy with no family, no future, no purpose, you gave me one." He stood straighter. "I'm not leaving. I'll see this through. To the end, whatever that end is."
Then Shelove. Through the Bond, her presence flooded him. Warm. Steadfast. Unwavering. And then she conveyed. Not quite words, but meaning shaped into something he could understand, 'I have seen worlds I never knew existed. I have followed you across the Omniverse. I have hunted beside you, fought beside you, slept beside you. If it's to be the end, I will be at your side to face it with you.'
Koronos looked at them. Corvannafax, the outcast who had found family, not of blood, but of purpose. Daggeroth, the boy who had become a man in darkness. Shelove, the pantera who had chosen him and never wavered.
They were not soldiers under his command. They were his friends and they would not leave.
He didn't thank them. Didn't argue. Didn't try to convince them again; simply nodded once. The way generals did when soldiers volunteered for a suicide mission. They had a destination: the throne room. They had an obstacle: an army of golems. They had no clear way through. But they had each other. They had the Sword. And they had something Supremus didn't: the willingness to die for each other. Koronos looked out at the distant fortress, at the legions surrounding it, at the impossible odds. "Then we go together," he said. He gripped the Sword of Otepi. Its light pulsed, warm and steady, answering his resolve. "And if this is the end..." He turned to face his friends. His family. "Let's make it an end they'll remember."