After leaving the throne room of the Kingdom of Purgatory many minutes earlier, Darfredon and Persephone walked in silence through a long, dark corridor, lit only by a few flickering torches clinging to the stone walls.
As they neared the chamber, they spotted Agrippa and Opiter standing guard on either side of the door. When the young goddess approached, the two men offered a faint smile—but it vanished instantly when they met her dark, icy gaze.
Persephone, still tense from Darfredon's words, gave them a sharp, curt gesture with her hand.
The two guards dared not ask any questions. The goddess's cold anger struck them like an invisible blade. Without a word, they obeyed and opened the door.
Persephone entered first, followed by Darfredon. Once inside, she remained near the doorway, her expression closed and severe.
The room was modest. Darfredon swept his gaze across it. Nothing had truly changed since his forced departure…
The straw bed at the back of the room.
The old, worn chest.
The damp stone walls.
Only one detail broke the surrounding coldness.
A bowl of porridge still steamed faintly, resting atop the chest. Beside it, a small piece of stale bread and a half-filled jug of water completed the scene.
Persephone finally broke the silence, her voice sharp as shattered crystal.
- Don't forget to eat, Darfredon.
You are no longer the fallen angel you once were… but a simple human.
And humans die of hunger—especially when they stubbornly insist on playing the proud ones.
She cast him one last hard look, then slowly turned on her heel to leave the room. Without another word, she slammed the door shut behind her.
A few seconds later, Darfredon heard the muffled laughter of Agrippa and Opiter, stationed outside.
Too exhausted and thirsty to give them any attention, he seized the water jug and drank deeply.
He then swallowed half of the lukewarm porridge, along with the piece of bread.
His body demanded rest.
He let himself fall onto the makeshift bed, closed his eyes… and quickly drifted into sleep.
A strange dream began.
He was not truly dreaming.
He was reliving.
Seeing again.
Feeling.
He was plunging into a memory…
a memory that did not entirely belong to him.
The final memory of Sextus Vetutius, just before Darfredon's fall from Paradise.
***
In this dream, Darfredon controlled nothing.
He was trapped—nothing more than a spectator to Sextus's past.
He saw himself lying down, half-asleep, until hurried footsteps echoed nearby. Barnabé suddenly burst in, threw himself at him, and shook him violently while shouting.
- SEXTUS, GET UP RIGHT NOW! THE ROMANS ARE COMING!
Unable to regain control of the body, Darfredon had no choice but to relive the memory—powerless.
Sextus sprang upright. He grabbed his sword, his bow, and his quiver of arrows.
- Have they managed to breach our village?
- No. According to our scouts, they're still far off—but they're moving fast.
The two brothers quickly exited the building. Once outside, Sextus called to Barnabé:
- We follow the plan as agreed. Wake everyone up. Tell our men to prepare for battle.
We need to slow the Romans down long enough to get the women and children into the cave.
Each of them went their separate way to carry out their task.
- Good luck, big brother! Barnabé called before disappearing into the night.
- You too, little brother.
Sextus ran toward the village houses. Along the way, he pounded violently on doors to wake the inhabitants, shouting for everyone to prepare.
To the men, he ordered them to be ready to defend the village against the Roman assault.
To the women, he instructed them to gather the children and discreetly lead them to the cave, waiting for the retreat signal he would give… or that Barnabé would give in his stead.
The Vetutius brothers were no strangers to confrontation with the Empire. Their coordination, forged through experience, gave them a precious advantage.
By the time the Romans finally reached the outskirts of the village, the trap was already set.
Sextus and a handful of men had taken positions on the hills, quietly encircling the area. Meanwhile, Barnabé and other fighters had hidden themselves inside the houses, waiting for the right moment.
Seeing that no one came out to meet them, the Roman commander—mounted on horseback—rode up to the first building.
- WE KNOW YOU'RE HERE! COME OUT OF YOUR HIDING PLACES!
A long silence answered him.
His gaze darkened. He raised his arm and shouted.
- VERY WELL. DESTROY THIS ENTIRE VILLAGE! SEARCH EVERY CORNER!
I WANT THE VETUTIUS BROTHERS—ALIVE OR DEAD!
He had barely finished speaking when a faint whistle cut through the air.
An arrow shot from the hillside. It pierced straight through the commander's chest. He toppled heavily from his horse, eyes wide.
A surge of shouts erupted among the soldiers. Two of them rushed to their commander, hauled him up with difficulty, and dragged him to cover.
The trap had snapped shut.
- ATTACK! Barnabé shouted.
From atop the hill, Sextus watched his men burst from their hiding places and charge the Romans. Caught off guard, the soldiers froze for a brief moment, convinced they had stumbled into a far larger ambush than it truly was. They hesitated—paralyzed by a confusion that proved fatal.
Ever cautious, Sextus waited a few seconds longer. Then, with a swift gesture, he gave the signal to his archers.
A rain of arrows fell upon the enemy soldiers. In barely a few minutes, the Roman unit was decimated.
When the last Roman collapsed to the ground, Sextus signaled his men to remain hidden. He himself descended the hill carefully, still on guard.
Barnabé, seeing his brother approach alone, felt a chill run down his spine. He frowned.
- Something's wrong, Sextus…
- Yes, Sextus replied, his gaze dark.
- That Roman attack was too easy.
- I agree. Not a single counter-ambush… That's not normal.
- Exactly.
He stopped short.
- MEN, HIDE AGAIN!
Sextus had spotted an unfamiliar silhouette, crouched near a Roman corpse. The man held a helmet in one hand. His icy aura and absolute calm were chilling.
The stranger slowly raised his head.
- There's no point in hiding. I'm going to deal with all of you.
At those words, he placed his free hand on the ground. His fingers sank into the earth as if it were water. A strange energy began to vibrate.
Before their stunned eyes, the bodies of the Roman soldiers rose one by one. Their eyes—now red and black—glowed with infernal light. Faster. Stronger. They were no longer men. They were revenant puppets, animated by a sinister force.
Sextus took a step back, shocked. He loosed an arrow toward the hills—a warning signal for the other troops hidden farther away.
The stranger, still impassive, let out a small, mocking laugh.
- Really? You disappoint me. I thought you were one of the finest archers.
- Don't speak too soon,
Sextus shot back as he released a second arrow, more precise.
- Whoever you are… you're finished.
A few seconds later, a rain of arrows fell upon Hades and his forces.
Strangely, not a single casualty.
Hades, still smiling, lifted his eyes toward the hills, amused.
- Do you really think you can kill me… and wipe out my men with simple arrows?
Barnabé, stunned by the enemy's immunity, muttered tensely:
- That's impossible! Only gods could survive an attack like that…
- LET'S GO, BROTHER!
Barnabé shouted, brandishing his sword. Sextus seized his own without hesitation.
The two brothers charged together toward Hades, while the other villagers rushed the resurrected Roman soldiers.
But Hades, still motionless, pointed at the brothers with a single finger.
- CERBERUS… ATTACK. BUT DO NOT KILL THEM. I WANT THEM ALIVE.
A triple, guttural growl thundered through the air.
Suddenly—without ever seeing the creature—an invisible force struck them head-on. The two brothers were hurled several meters backward, rolling in the dust.
Dazed, they slowly struggled back to their feet.
- Did you see what I saw? Sextus asked, eyes wide.
- Yes. I think we're dealing with the real Hades.
A new growl echoed, followed by heavy, rapid footsteps. Cerberus was about to attack again.
But this time, a volley of arrows tore through the air, fired by the archers positioned higher up.
The monster howled in pain near his master and briefly retreated.
A tense silence followed… until chaos erupted on the heights: screams, clashes—then laughter.
Female laughter, twisted, almost deranged.
Sextus looked up. What he saw left him speechless.
Three warriors in black armor burst from the hills, slaughtering the archers one by one. They hurled them through the air like mere dolls.
- By all the gods… he whispered.
Hades, still impassive, crossed his arms and said in a tone of feigned regret:
- Oh, I see the Erinyes sisters have begun playing with your men…
I'm terribly sorry about your archers. They don't like men very much, you see…
Barnabé, beside himself with rage, clenched his teeth and shot back:
- God or not… my brother and I will make you pay.
Certain of himself, Hades replied coldly.
- Before saying something foolish… start by defeating my dog. The very first beast of the Underworld.
He paused, then added with a crooked smile:
- And to make things even better… mortals can't even see him.
He slowly turned his gaze toward where the invisible beast stood, then continued almost playfully.
- What are you doing, Cerberus?
Stop staring at the hills… and attack these two wretches.
The dog's shadow obeyed at once. Hearing the heavy footsteps and savage barking closing in, the Vetutius brothers instinctively split apart, each moving to one side.
When the scorching breath and growls were right upon them, they struck simultaneously with their swords, hoping to hit the flesh of the invisible beast.
A howl of pain ripped through the air. Cerberus had been wounded.
But with a final surge, he slammed the two brothers violently to the ground, disarmed them, and lay across their legs, pinning them completely.
Trapped beneath the crushing weight of the beast, they could only watch helplessly as their men were slaughtered one by one. Panic spread through the ranks. The villagers fled—or fell.
Hades slowly approached his two prisoners, a mocking smile on his lips. Stroking Cerberus's head, he praised him.
- You're a good dog, Cerberus.
I thought the Vetutius brothers were fearsome warriors…
But legends aren't always worth believing.
His expression darkened, more serious.
- So… where are the other villagers? Where are the women and children hiding?
Sextus stared straight into his eyes and spat.
- We'd rather die than tell you where they are.
- And if you think you can get anything out of our men… keep dreaming, Barnabé added.
Hades allowed himself a thin, cold smile.
- I see. You truly underestimate me.
And here I was, ready to give you a chance… an opportunity to join our ranks.
Then, in a sharp and commanding voice, he turned to his men.
- HEY, YOU THERE! TAKE THESE TWO WITH YOU!
AND YOU, CERBERUS—TRACK DOWN THE REST OF THIS VILLAGE'S INHABITANTS!
He calmly put his helmet back on. Instantly, his body vanished from sight—he had become invisible once more. Cerberus released his grip on the brothers, then lowered his head and began sniffing the ground insistently, growling as he searched in every direction for a trail.
The two brothers, finally freed from the crushing weight of the beast, were immediately bound and thrown into a wagon alongside the few remaining survivors of the village.
While the three Erinyes sisters followed Cerberus toward the hills, the Roman soldiers—acting on Hades' orders—set the village ablaze.
Upon reaching the entrance of a cave hidden by vegetation, Hades—now visible again—and the Erinyes found it empty. They failed to notice the many protective symbols carved into the stone walls.
Hades paused thoughtfully for a moment, then walked away with Tisiphone, the most impetuous of the three sisters. Her long black hair flowed behind her like a veil of darkness.
They spoke in low voices, off to the side.
Inside the wagon, Sextus and Barnabé, tense and alert, strained to listen, hoping to catch a fragment of the conversation. They wanted to know whether the symbols taught by Perseus had worked… whether the women and children were still safe.
But before they could hear anything, the wooden door of the wagon slammed shut violently, plunging them back into darkness.
As the wagon resumed its journey, Sextus moved closer to the poorly fitted lock and managed to pry it open slightly. In the distance, he saw the flames devouring their village… and the Roman troops marching away from it.
Barnabé, immediately sensing his brother's intentions, whispered gravely.
- Don't do this, Sextus. Even if you manage to escape, they'll find you again.
You have to accept it… they're stronger than we are.
- You can stay here, Barnabé. But as for me, I'll fight until my very last breath to save our village.
With a swift motion, Sextus forced the door open, slipped discreetly out of the wagon, and vanished into the darkness. The Roman guards noticed nothing.
But Hades—still invisible beneath his helmet—was already waiting for him.
Without warning, the god slammed him violently to the ground.
- OW! YOU USELESS IDIOTS! he roared.
- YOU LET A PRISONER ESCAPE JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO CLOSE A DOOR? A BUNCH OF INCOMPETENTS!
At his shouts, the soldiers jolted and brought the wagon to a sudden halt.
Suddenly, a gray and red energy shot straight toward Sextus.
In a single second, everything turned white.
***
Darfredon jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
He was gasping for air.
His fists clenched the sheets tightly, his eyes still haunted by what he had just witnessed.
- What is happening to me…? Why did I see that memory? Was it… a fragment of Sextus's past?
He slowly sat up, his heart pounding, his mind still clouded by the lingering images of the dream.
- Death… He's the only one who can shed light on this mystery.