Bonded Summoner-Book 8 - Epilogue

Administrator Kintrel slammed his gavel, silencing the auditorium once more. “Continue, Divine Tyr.”

Tyr smiled. “Now, for the next, larger crimes–and not just from this side.”

A series of items appeared in front of Tyr. It was the runic stakes and the skull item, used to attack Clan Hart. But there was a third and fourth item. The third was a tainted orb holding a spell inside, whose usage Tyr had determined the purpose was to enable PvP and bypass some of the Framework’s rules.

The existence of the item was a significant problem. And then, the final item was meant to bypass communication restrictions from within their Refuges, allowing them to speak with a so-called Proxy. Capable of speaking with Divine outside the Sector directly, this item was perhaps the largest offender, that he desired to get rid of.

Tyr, too, used a sort of proxy to sometimes skirt the rules. Not only did he do them to protect the sanctity of the game itself, but he also had to do it with a chain of machinations that led to the desired result. It took months, sometimes years, to carry a simple message with these restrictions placed upon him. It was why his change of plans with his dear Nessa had left her confused and alone.

The idea that their enemy could do the same thing as easily as someone on Earth might phone their mother was a complete disrespect and destruction of the rules and the sanctity of the game.

Loki, Hermes, and Ares looked shocked that they had the items, suddenly muttering among themselves. At this point, however, they were blissfully unaware that justice was coming for them, or at the very least, that it was so absolute. But first…

Tyr gestured, and suddenly, golden hexagons appeared, a deep vibration filling the room. Dread filled all those present, the top of the room shifting in the corner to the administrator’s left for those facing him.

“Now what’s happening?” Loki was alarmed, along with nearly everyone else in the room aside from those in the Aegis Accord, or the Elder Divine.

A mass of black flesh and tendrils thundered downward and crashed into the ground, before straining against the hexagon shield, forming a pillar of black flesh. Dozens of eyes and mouths appeared on its formless body, the monster growling and groaning.

It was Tartarus, a portion of itself brought to the council to be sentenced. The same occurred at the Grand Council, the two locations a near mirror of each other. The only difference was that the Sector Nobles were not present at the Grand Council, with only the various Divine.

The monster’s voice echoed within the room, a deep vibration carrying with its words. Its voice was impatient, and sounded as if several voices were speaking at once. “Why are WE here?”

Tyr cleared his throat. “You are here because there has been a violation of the rules. These items have your signature, and some were brought to The Burning Steps before the contest.”

Administrator Kintrel added, “This item and numerous others circumvent the rules in place by the Framework. A penalty must be levied for their usage, and their very existence.”

“THEY used item. If we must pay, THEY must pay.”

Tyr nodded. “True. All involved in these items’ creation and usage must pay. But there is another item, and many more. We will address them separately, but the existence of these items requires restitution to those harmed, and a penalty to be levied on both parties.”

What Tyr wished for the most was for the penalty to patch the Framework and prevent such items from ever being used again. Unfortunately, the cost was just too significant for all of them. So, they were forced to request the next best thing.

There was a final point, in that their algorithm for deciding the next contests had somehow been discovered or otherwise leaked or influenced. The Elder Council was going to use some of the additional checks put forth through this penalty, combined with some additional investigators, to try to catch betrayers and Tartarus in the act going forward.

Tyr explained the items one by one, detailing the harm caused by their existence. The Proxy communication item was definitely what made the Divine and Sector Nobles most upset, especially the natives. How many worlds had been stolen from them under their noses because of some unfair prophecy guided by their Divine? The advantages one might be able to gain from the mere item’s existence were endless.

Administrator Kintrel spoke, “For the PvP bypassing item, the penalty will involve updating the Framework to allow for the detection of said items through purchase. On any world where this upgrade is purchased, these contraband items cannot enter. As for the communication item, the Frontier Sector barrier will now be updated, to prevent said communication from entering or exiting. The penalty shall be paid by Tartarus itself, the rest paid by those involved in the item’s creation.”

Hermes narrowed his eyes on that last detail, and looked back and forth in suspicion. He whispered something to Loki, and the man’s eyes widened.

When it came to the PvP enablement items, it wasn’t optimal, a mere bandage solution that, most likely, Tartarus may have other magical means of accomplishing the same thing, rendering this upgrade pointless. In fact, Clan Hart had witnessed more than one. Thankfully, this upgrade could be improved upon easily as they discovered or confiscated such items.

This violation at the Second Tier simply could not pay for much better than that, without additional proof collected, catching the entity red-handed in a larger contest.

The communication item luckily would be handled and closed off from its functionality, and Tyr was happy for it. And the timing was good, with the War Trial coming soon.

The monster groaned, “What is the COST?”

Tyr gestured, and a Framework prompt appeared that it could read, its many eyes focusing on the box with the accounting–a cost of Divine Essence in sparks necessary to make this update. The cost, on some level, was absorbed by the fact that it was applied on individual worlds instead of the entire game.

There was also a provision where the current contests in Sector 87 could be actively monitored for more of these tools, as well as other cheating. A repeat of the Dungeon Raid on Highlands could not occur–Tyr would watch it himself if he must.

“Acceptable.” Tartarus said, almost sounding pleased with itself.

Tyr couldn’t help but grimace at how easily it accepted its penalty. This was, perhaps in the big scheme of things, little more than a slap on the wrist for the entity. And it was abundantly clear that it had gotten away with so much more over the years thanks to these items.

Truly, Tyr or any of his brethren would have gladly paid the cost on their own to make this sort of change. However, updates to the Framework involving certain criteria required consensus, and an opportunity for Tartarus to provide a counterbalance to their change–everything had a cost.

If they had sought to make this change without applying it as a penalty such as this, the eldritch entity just might have tried to sneak in some advantage for itself. A new tool that granted it an advantage across the entire game, perhaps. Updating as a result of a penalty was much better for The Alliance, as its ability to negotiate was minimized.

Tyr turned back to the sector council. “With that handled, we’ll get to the other item. For this, I have brought a specialist to enlighten all those involved on its purpose and usage, so all can understand the gravity of this item.”

A Buddhist monk appeared upon the raised platform, a single point of stillness in the roaring sea of divine presences and important nobles speaking among themselves.

The man looked almost unremarkable. Plain robes of faded saffron, sandals worn from travel, and a cleanly shaven head. Yet there was a serenity to him that seemed to soften the air around him.

If Jake and his companions had been present, they would have been struck by how unsettlingly similar he looked to the Nameless Monk they had faced: the same slight frame, the same half-smile. But where the evil monk’s smile was veiled malice, this one radiated quiet contentment, the peace of someone who walked with his conscience unburdened.

The monk bowed first to the gathered Divines behind the stage, then to the council itself, palms pressed together in prayer. His voice flowed gently through the chamber like cool water, in stark contrast to the storm outside–the various sector nobles making noise.

“I greet the honorable council. I am but a humble monk–this body serves as the disciple and hand of Manjushri, Bodhisattva of Wisdom, and his Champion in this Frontier Sector. I am honored to assist those who seek enlightenment… and to aid this council in its search for the truth.”

Similarly, the true Manjushri appeared in the Grand Council, greeting everyone. Tyr smiled as the words rang true in his mind through his essence of truth. “We thank you for your assistance, humble monk. Please, bring out the cursed object.”

The monk held out one hand, and the wicked shears appeared in it, emanating taint and vileness.

Tartarus roared at its appearance, its tendrils slamming against the Framework's golden hexagon shielding as if it wanted to grab it. The entire room shook as it threw its tantrum, its body squirming against the bounds of the temple outside of it. “HOW?! How can you have?”

Tyr grimaced. Just how were they being beaten by this thing, when it behaved so foolishly? Still, he ignored the eldritch entity’s question.

“Humble monk, if you will. Show the council the magic of this cursed object and explain its purpose.”

The monk raised his hand. The light in the chamber seemed to bend toward it, dimming, as if reality itself were listening. Fine, gossamer threads–normally hidden from mortal sight and even every divine not versed in understanding–unfolded into view, drifting like millions of strands of silvered silk. Each thread pulsed faintly, stretching far beyond the chamber, into something vaster than any single realm, connecting to everyone present and more.

“What you see,” the monk said softly, “is the tapestry of existence. Not of flesh or stone, but of cause and consequence… of karma. Every word, every deed, every spark of divinity weaves a thread into this endless loom. It is through these threads that existence remembers us.”

He let the threads shimmer a heartbeat longer before his gaze hardened.

“And this tool,” he lifted the shears ever so slightly, “exists to make the loom forget. This tool does not simply cut a life. It hides the thread. It severs a soul from the loom so that even Heaven’s eye–the Framework–cannot follow its unraveling.”

The monk continued his explanation for a time, detailing why the item was effectively a cheat ability, and even demonstrated it, which Manjushri himself mirrored on his side at the Grand Council. The many divine were shocked as knowledge of a tiny animal was removed from existence–then returned by the monk, who held what remained of the tiny thread, preventing it from being unraveled.

To sever a divine’s karmic thread when limited to the Second Tier should be impossible, and hiding its capability and total power when it entered a world was complicated, and went beyond the rules.

Somehow, this item bypassed the Framework’s barrier protections, allowing it to enter at a higher Tier than the contest. But before they could even get to the part where the item involved collusion, Tartarus interrupted his explanation, roaring in anger.

“ENOUGH. What is the Cost?”

Tartarus was short and to the point–it understood that not only had they understood it cheated, but it wasn’t going to be able to wiggle out of their penalties. While the item had hidden its strength, Tartarus had not been able to hide which worlds it entered the contest in. There was a clear record of its existence, and they could note every single infraction.

Ready for this, Tyr gestured. An accounting was provided via Framework prompt once more, and its eyes went wild along with its tendrils as it perused the information and, likely, calculated what it truly meant to the entity.

The accounting involved several areas, including the evidence that such an item was used–worlds it had entered along with the Divine Ascendant and provided an unfair advantage. It wasn’t just Sector 87 where some worlds would change hands, going back to who should have earned them in the first place. Another Frontier Sector and what were now various worlds within Divines’ Territories were impacted as well.

Unfortunately, many worlds would need to stay in Tartarus’s hands. There was a penalty, and Tartarus was paying it as a result of their findings. However, The Alliance was involved in the creation of the item, and so they would have to share a portion of the blame. They had broken the rules too, and this meant the net result of the penalty wasn’t significantly greater than returning worlds lost or moved through the win trading.

The gains were not equal. And the penalties against the colluders couldn’t just be paid to anyone that the Alliance wanted. Worlds fed directly into the potential of Divines in a measurable way. Normally, they would have to earn these worlds to be a part of their Divine Territory. To do so meant more conflict and more native deaths for new contests to be created.

And so, concessions were made. As far as Tyr saw it, it was better to have 24 worlds in the hands of trusted alliance members than to have 30 worlds in the hands of traitors. Some returned to the natives’ hands, and some stayed as relative husks in Tartarus’s hands, with a penalty to be paid in Divine Sparks instead.

As to who received the many worlds, they were the runner-ups in the worlds the traitors earned, which, often, was a justice granted in itself. Moreover, the Alliance preferred not to receive a bunch of husks of worlds Tartarus had already taken a bite out of, shadows of their original selves.

Many eyes on the being turned to Loki, Hermes, and Ares, brightening with anger before it returned to view the accounting. Because it wasn’t only an accounting. It gave the entity options on how the applied penalty would be awarded to the Alliance.

“WE select Clause 3. Can WE leave now?”

While Tyr was satisfied that the option awarded the Alliance the most, he couldn’t believe it was the choice selected, shocked by this revelation. Because it meant one of two things in Tyr’s mind, and both were worrisome and dangerous.

The first clause granted the affected parties the most in reparations, including Clan Hart for achieving victory against impossible odds and cheating. It was a shame, but all rewards that influenced an adventurer’s potential must be balanced, and to grant more than the usual, it must be agreed to by both parties.

This was why, as a result of the cheating in the Dungeon Raid on Highlands, he couldn’t be granted the entire reward of all the worlds. It had required bartering to shift the reward in a way that helped the cause the most, and to still grant him something significant for his service.

Not only that, but this option caused the most chaos–it included what the Nameless Monk alluded to. In order to give back some of these worlds and sparks from the offenders such as Loki, Ares, Hermes, and the other offenders, they would have to begin War Trials.

This would put billions of natives at risk, and could even allow Tartarus a chance at claiming some of them. It was the most logical choice for Tartarus to make, and yet it did not.

The second option was a compromise, providing a middling amount of restitution to those affected, especially those within Sector 87. It followed a precedent set in a previous case involving a similar cheat-level item, and Tyr had thought it the second most likely option. It also kept the reward to Clan Hart to just barely more than what he deserved for the challenge’s difficulty defeated, as judged by the Framework.

The third option, which it chose, was one that gave Sector 87 and the void child the very least, and actually accomplished the most of the Aegis Accord’s goals.

So it either wanted to destroy the void child and claim whatever Odin placed inside of him, or it wanted the Grand Treasure at the center of Sector 87. Tyr didn’t see any other reason why it would give them so much leeway to apply punishment to those that assisted it in the first place, unless it was truly so spiteful for their failure–but Tyr knew better. The entity played both the long and short game, and the idea that it selected this option meant that it believed this was better for it in the long run.

When claiming the Sector, The Framework would grant a special Origin Spark, which could allow one to achieve godhood, or to empower a current Divine. Along with a Primordial Font, which was varied in its true nature.

Every Grand Treasure was different from one another. Nobody, not even Tartarus, could know specifically what it was in the center of a Frontier Sector, the Framework protections too great. But perhaps it received a whiff, a notion, an instinct that the one within Sector 87 was something that it wanted specifically.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Hestia’s Hearth, Arthur’s Holy Grail, Odin’s Gungnir, Tyr’s Gleipnir, Mimir’s Well, and the Eye of Ra–these artifacts were all examples of Primordial Fonts, wellsprings of primordial essence in which a seat of power, a throne, was placed. A Divine Territory to be claimed, to join the great game as a Divine, or to expand a Divine’s current rule and power, or authority.

Tyr should be happy for this selection, but he could see the flicker of concern on his brethren’s faces, which he couldn’t help but match. Athena once again shot Odin a dirty look, and Lugh grimaced, thinking of the implications.

However, several Elder Gods looked to Odin with a knowing look, perhaps even respect. Zeus nodded at Odin with a serious expression, which Odin met with a grin.

Loki frowned, looking back and forth between any interplay he could catch in both councils. “What was that? What was decided?”

Tyr grinned at Loki. “What was decided… was that you were just sold out, Trickster. Without a doubt, for just a few worlds and a handful of spark differences, it was all too happy to allow us to punish you just how we saw fit. How does it feel, to be used and thrown away? Just as you did your own children.”

Loki rose and was about to say something, but Administrator Kintrel slammed his gavel, silencing the audience with a wave of magic. The roguish divine looked indignant, but sat back down, stewing in his rage.

“Tartarus interrupted the hearing, but with that abomination gone, we can continue. Manjushri’s Disciple was just about to show us how we know who’s guilty of treachery of the highest order.”

The humble monk nodded. “Very well. Now, Master will show the Grand Council without issue, but for me to show it with so many present will be taxing for this self. Forgive me if I struggle.”

His Divine Essence gathered, and then he infused it into the item mixed with his magic. Threads from the item shot out in numerous directions, connecting to dozens present, shocking everyone. Most were clear when touching a Sector Noble, while those touching the Divine became gold near their ends. His Master repeated the process at the Grand Council, as there were a handful of Divine present at one location but not the other.

“What you see this time,” the monk said gently, “are those influenced or impacted by this cursed item’s usage. Now, I shall color the threads by their karmic deed and weight.”

Many of the threads remained the same color, but there were many that altered to dark red and black. One of the black threads led to Loki, Ares, and Hermes, among many others–a bit more than a dozen present. But there were almost an entire dozen more that had a dark red look, rather than black. One went to Gaia, and another to Amaterasu, among several other Divine from various Pantheons.

The monk was strained, clearly having difficulty holding this display as sweat started rolling down his bald head. “The clear or golden color represents where you or someone you had a strong connection with–a loved one, a friend, or a Champion–had been slain or erased by this weapon.”

He pointed to several frayed threads, which led from the weapon. “Unfortunately, these frayed threads are where the person was erased by the weapon, but their soul did not return to the loom when the Nameless Monk was defeated. We may never learn of all the terrible acts it committed. Thankfully, it is but a few among so many.”

The Disciple then pointed to the darker colors of the weave, his breaths now heavy. “The hand that cuts in hunger and greed, with strong intent, stains itself deeply black. The hand that is forced still bleeds–but the thread of their heart trembles, not sings. In the weave, such trembling lingers. The deed does not carry the same weight.”

Arawn teleported next to the monk and placed a hand on his shoulder, and raised his other hand in the air. “Rest now, humble monk. You have served this council well; we have recorded the truth.” The threads flickered as the monk slumped to the ground, where Arawn took over the display–merely a representation of what was already shown at the Sector Council. And of course, Manjushri had no issues with his display.

Numerous Divine were then summoned onto the platform along with Loki, Ares, and Hermes, shocking all those present, as hexagons of the Framework wrapped around them, imprisoning them.

They were from various pantheons and among those who invested throughout the Frontier Sector, as well as some outside of it.

It was Morpheus, Mammon, and Janus, as well as Tezcatlipoca, Susanoo, Tsukuyomi, Erlang Shen, and Shango. Many were trickster gods much like Loki, but not all. Each of them had black threads going to their chests. There was a handful of newer Divine that had joined the great game recently outside of the larger, ancient pantheons, who had sought a malicious path to expand their power, it appeared.

Loki scoffed. “Pretty lights and temple riddles. You call this proof? A monk waves his hands, and suddenly we’re all condemned. Spare me your incense and fairy tales.”

Heimdall snorted from above, his eyes brightening as he looked down on the betrayers with contempt in his gaze. “Do not lie, Loki. Your essence is woven through this tool like rot through timber. You think we do not recognize it? The other’s essence is there too, true. But none as thick as yours.”

Ares growled. “This is Buddhist trickery–their karma and weaving and threads. None of this binds me. I fight wars; I do not kneel to monks!”

The various accused divines included their own complaints and rebuttals, iterating their own displeasure about this magic proving their involvement. This occurred at both councils, the projections acting out the scene at both locations.

Arawn shook his head, his voice calm from beneath his stag bone mask. “You can spit on the monk’s words all you like, tricksters. But the song of the weave is older than any temple. It thrums even in Annwyn’s quiet. This humble monk only demonstrated what we already know, and in an expedient, visible, and nuanced manner for the councils.”

Hades removed his cowl from above, the Greek god of the underworld looking down on them with a cold sneer. Like many gods showing themselves as projections, he chose a rather human appearance with dark hair and wearing a black robes, different from his true race. “You deny it, Ares? Karma, Fate, Weave… different tongues for the same weight. I feel the pull. The Underworld remembers what the living forget. Such a wicked, despicable tool, to hide crimes from my sight.”

Thoth, the Egyptian God of Wisdom, spoke up next, his voice full of sincerity. “Call it Ma’at, call it Karma, call it whatever pleases your pride, tricksters. The balance, the debt you created in the weave when you betrayed your brethren, does not change just because you refuse to name it.”

Hera shook her head at Ares, after removing her cowl and showing her face full of disappointment. “Ares. My son. What have you done… What bargain did you make that I can taste your fury in this cursed blade? We do not need the monk to know your involvement; your betrayal is clear for all to see.”

In an almost mirror to his son Cassius, Ares averted his gaze from his mother. His jaw clenched and his veins throbbed on his temples, anger filling him, but he did not reply.

Tyr continued, “Not all you saw with the dark red threads truly betrayed of their own will. Many of those were tricked, their Divine Sparks traded for a malevolent purpose. Others were extorted, forced to give up their sparks or suffer the consequences at the hands of scheming gods. We have seen them, and we shall watch and wait.”

The Disciple spoke up, having recovered a little after his display. “The Loom does not forget. It only waits. Even severed threads leave echoes, like footsteps upon snow. The ghosts you sought to erase have sung their truth. And now, the weave remembers.”

Tyr nodded. “The Grand Council’s judgment was already set when the ghosts began to sing. This display is not to convince. It is to remember. To the deceived, there will be mercy, a small tax in essence for your penalty. To the willing… there will be justice.”

Gaia stood up, her eyes full of fury, her finger pointing at Loki. “You tricked me, you wretch! You told me you could save my people, but instead, you made them disappear–made me believe that there was no one left to save, none worthy to save. More than once, you twisted our deal–”

Several other Divine and Sector Nobles alike stood up, pointing down at each of the accused. Each had their own stories, their memories restored of what they had lost. It was because of these Divine coming to the Elder Gods and Grand Council that things had moved so quickly.

In truth, once Jake Hart had freed and purified the hungry ghosts, with or without the shears, some form of justice would have occurred. Capturing them just made the win that much more significant, as their ability to penalize the entity was successful.

Loki laughed, sneering at the accusers and ignoring their hate. “All that I’ve done, that we’ve done, has been acting according to our original nature. Is it such a crime for us to be as we are? And really, that you were so foolish to believe me, Gaia–that is the bigger crime, one worthy of the loss, the punishment you received.”

Gaia scoffed at this, harrumphing in her seat. “You will be the one to pay, traitor. Hurry this, Tyr. I wish to see him suffer.”

Hermes spread his arms wide, entreating the gods above them. “So, you’ve already decided then. That we’re betrayers, criminals of the highest order. But what is to be our punishment, hmm? What price shall you pay for your sense of justice for slaying us, as our Territories crumble and billions fade along with them? Is that justice, weakening yourselves as the true enemy waits?”

Tyr chuckled, smiling. “Ah, you misunderstand, Hermes. When I told you that Tartarus sold you out, what I meant was about how we would use your essence. You see, the rules keep us from infusing all your essence into one of us, and granting your Primordial Fonts to us. But it was all too happy to give us another option.” He smiled and nodded at Athena. “Athena. It’s time.”

With a wave of Athena’s hand, the Aegis appeared–the actual version of it in the Grand Council, and a representation of it in Sector 87’s council.

It was changed drastically from its original form. Increased in size and covered in Nordic runes, the shield’s mystic weave cast a prismatic haze on the surrounding area. A flaming hearth sat in the center of the shield, the authorities of Brigid, Hestia, Bastet, and Vesta on display, a multicolored flame emanating from it.

Celtic knots woven from the Celtic Divine’s seasons, life, death, and rebirth formed a series of more than a dozen chains, which writhed in the air away from the shield like tentacles or wings, the shield floating in the air.

Numerous mystic artifacts had been woven into the divine metal, a prismatic shimmer across its large, kite-shaped face. Every pantheon of the Aegis Accord was on a part of it and shown, with various trinkets and talismans attached. It was a joint effort among the Divine within the Accord, an artifact beyond anything the multiverse had ever seen.

Hermes looked the item up and down. “What…what is this abomination?”

Athena smiled at it proudly. “It is the Aegis, the protector of life and justice. Those of us who swear upon it are bound by its rules, just as we had created and joined the Framework itself. It has the power to both protect and enforce them. To expand the rules of The Alliance to ones that serve the greater good.”

Ares scoffed at it. “I shall swear no oath to this thing. Just end me and be done with it. War is chaos, and chaos shall not be bound by such weakness.”

Cernunnos shook his head. “You already swore an oath when you joined the Framework, and betrayed that oath, traitor. Now you shall be punished–bound by the Aegis. Not the same as those who swear willingly, a true punishment instead.”

Loki looked at it with disbelief, his eyes wide as he probed the true item at the Grand Council. “No… these magics, how could you? You all fed it a piece of your authority. Have you lost your minds? Already the Framework weakens, and you would unravel it further?” He laughed. “You fools. You are playing right into the enemy’s hands.”

Odin spoke up from above, “Desperate times call for desperate measures, Loki. Times that you and your brethren helped create. Now, you will pay The Alliance back for what you’ve done. Through servitude.”

Ares looked at the item with alarm. “Servitude? No!”

The writhing chains latched onto each of the traitorous gods, wrapping around their true avatars from head to toe, the same occurring to their projections. The betraying divine cried out, their essence being drained into the shield as hexagons of the Framework layered itself onto them, aiding the Aegis in applying their servitude.

The artifact’s flame blazed brightly as their essence was purified, strengthening the artifact and empowering it beyond its original purpose.

The weight on reality increased as it drained them, its power rising to that of or above an Elder God all on its own. The item became more mystical, its authority enhanced. The Sector Council watched this in shock, murmuring to themselves. They were merely watching a copy of the event occurring in the Grand Council, but it had no less impact.

The amount drained from all these Divine was significant. The maximum strength of their Champions and Chosen and the rate they could recover Divine Essence were severely reduced, weakening them drastically. They may be able to bring out a similar amount of power in war, but how frequently they could do so just dropped to poor levels.

Eventually, the chains detached from the captives, leaving bindings around their throats and around their wrists.

Hermes frowned as he looked at his fading hands–his body like a ghost or wraith. “What…what did you do to me? To us?”

A newly born divine roared, struggling against the chain on his throat. “It burns me! Take this off me at once–I shall not be bound!”

Ares frowned as he clutched the air with his hands. He had a pained expression on his face, unable to hide the pain from his punishment completely. “It…stole my Essence. Too much! There is nearly none left; I cannot even Descend properly, I can only…guide my Champions and Chosen, just barely.”

Odin spoke with authority. “Your rulership has been rescinded. Instead, the Aegis itself will drive your followers, through Quests and directives. You may speak with your most devout, but heavily restricted. You just went from being emperors to chained soldiers. It is far better than you deserve.”

Hermes whined. “But bound like this, my essence reduced… I will eventually fade away. I will become so hollow, my Territory will crumble, in time. It’s inevitable.”

Tyr smiled. “I hardly see how that is our problem, Hermes. Through War Games and Trials, Aegis will claim your Territories much more reliably without traitors working against us. Finally, we can start to change this war in the right direction.”

Loki snorted. “You think you’ve won, that you’ve dealt a significant blow? That this small group are the only ones willing to work with the enemy to achieve their goals, to wish to stay true to their Eternal Essence? We are only the ones you have caught. Those in hiding will act more deliberately, more intentionally, thanks to your actions today. They now know the writing is on the wall, that there is no spot in The Alliance left for them. You have weakened me, true. But no chains shall bind me forever. Mark my words, I will make you pay for this.”

Hestia chuckled. “You made a good point somewhere in your rant for once, Loki. But now, you’re no longer required here. Begone.” With a wave of her hand, the chained Divine disappeared from the temple, their true selves still bound by the Aegis.

She then teleported to the center near Tyr, and addressed the Divine of the Grand Council and the Sector Council. “This is why we give every Divine and those who seek divinity here an option today. Those that join the Aegis Accord will be protected as we work to protect life and win the war once and for all. Our creed is that rising tides shall raise all ships, setting our egos aside and choosing to work for the greater good. To be bound by it, to work beside those that share the same vision.”

Odin added, “And for those of you that are tricksters or need to act in a gray area, the oath does limit you from working with the enemy. But there is room for you to act in alignment with your essence and authority, to play the long game as long as you stay true to the Accord in your intentions. It is not a perfect solution for you, in truth, but we have seen the alternative. The losses these fiends produced were catastrophic. We cannot allow that to continue, and we must prevent all treachery in the future.”

Zeus scoffed from above, removing his cowl before he spoke with his arms folded on his chest. “You are making it sound as though those that don’t join your Accord are traitors, Odin. Many of us seek to win this game, but just believe in our own path. It isn’t wrong to believe the path to the Seventh Tier, thanks to the rules of the game, requires a…somewhat selfish mindset.”

Odin nodded, and spread his arms out wide with a small smile. “You are right, Zeus. We understand that it is in many of our natures, our very essence, to refuse to kneel. And then there are those that work best alone. Those that make this sacrifice to swear the oath do not do it lightly, and we do not expect all to join us, nor do we look down on those that don’t. There are those, such as Manjushri and the Bodhisattvas that we work together with, that may never join. That does not mean we cannot work together, or that we take and never give back. Those that partner with the Accord can be certain we act in the interest of mutual victory and benefit.”

Hestia continued, “Up to now, the Aegis Accord recruited based on this mutual interest and trust. It was invite-only, the strength of the Aegis not able to bind more than just those that gave up some of their authority willingly. But today, it is empowered by the punishment of these betrayers, solidified from this tremendous victory. Any shall join the cause, only giving a small tithe to fall under its umbrella of protection and justice alike.”

Odin grinned. “Today is just the beginning, a first major victory against this tyrant. Who would like to join the cause of the Aegis Accord?”

Varuna from the Hindu Pantheon was first. “I shall join. To protect order, I shall swear the Oath.”

One by one nearly a dozen Divine in total swore, and several Sector Nobles of Sector 87 did as well. Many had been on the fence as allies, but now they swore just the same. They were welcomed as brothers and sisters in arms.

Tyr narrowed his eyes on some of the divine who were extorted of their spark in some way. Ultimately, he couldn’t exactly blame them all. However, they were preyed upon for their weakness, and absolutely should be the kinds that join the Aegis Accord for protection.

As if in response to his gaze, a few of them offered to join. Gaia had looked pleased with herself, watching as Loki especially suffered, along with Hermes. “I’ll join as well. Going it alone has been a struggle. To think I had been twisted so…”

Echidna was quick to welcome the nature goddess, hugging the stern elven woman.

Amaterasu had been betrayed by both Susanoo and Tsukiyomi. “In truth, I have little choice. If I continue how I was, I am little more than prey for Tartarus. I shall join.”

Hades and Persephone both teleported down to the Aegis, the Elder Greek God of the Underworld smiling. “We too would like to join. It is time to change the status quo.”

Zeus stood up, his voice angry. “You would side with them, Brother? You would turn your back on the Greeks?”

Hades grinned as he returned his look. “Why are you affronted, Brother? Since when do you work with me, or care about my struggles? Just how many times have I asked for help, but you refused to take risks, saying the cost was too high? I did not turn my back; I am staying true to myself. I move to protect the cycle of life and death, just as Osiris and Anubis did.”

Persephone added, “Seeing so many of our Greek brethren working for the enemy means we should make amends. This is the path. Joining the Accord does not mean turning our backs on the Greeks; it means we are facing our shadows.”

Hel looked tempted to join as well, but the woman turned away. Many of the more powerful Divine would probably continue their wait-and-see approach, though Tyr saw quite a bit of interest in several of their eyes, especially as Hades had joined and was welcomed.

This was a powerful win, and Tyr and his brethren looked on at their new allies with pride. Each victory the Accord won would mean more would join. Many were still on the fence, but he thought it was only a matter of time so long as they kept winning.

And some hid their disdain with amused or entertained smiles. While it was certainly true that this change, one way or another, would be interesting–it was fraught with difficulty. Loki and Lugh were absolutely correct that catching a little more than a dozen divine traitors was just a drop in the bucket among hundreds of divine, and probably dozens more betrayers.

Those that worked against The Alliance would become more vicious, more dangerous as they sought to switch sides or destroy it from within. Their plots would need to be more clever and more deceitful, and that in itself attracted them to act, like moths to a flame.

Thankfully, Odin, Heimdall and Tyr were prepared for this–they had let a few little fish go in an attempt to capture the bigger ones. Because there was something they had held back–the contents of the Nameless Monk’s sack.

It had countless bits and bobbles, all of which had karmic threads leading to people involved with the monk. They were not smoking guns, but they were absolute leads on those who had worked with him or had met with him. They had their suspicions now, with several Divine on a secret watch list.

He didn’t like deception, but Tyr would do much more than that in the pursuit of justice as long as it was within the law.

They had kept Clan Hart out of the talks for the most part, but throughout the hearing there were many hints at just how important their actions were, and how big their achievements were. A separate hearing would happen next for the Sector Council, Jake Hart becoming a Count by appointment. If Tartarus had selected the first or second option, it would have already been completed. Now, they had to come to a consensus.

Tartarus was clearly willing to pay any cost to claim Sector 87, or destroy Clan Hart thanks to Odin’s scheme. The challenge was going to heat up as the War Trial began, the stakes increasing. While they had won a big victory, the battle was just beginning. The war had been changed forever, and sooner than they had expected.

END OF BOOK 8