From experience, there is only one of two ways that Divines usually end up going once they taste blood. Maybe it is simply the Ages we come from, but only a tiny fraction of Divines are actually repulsed by Death. I know not of any abstract and only a few forces. Forces in themselves though rarely have a stance on the matter. Most are like Zerus, hesitant to kill out of sheer apathy and sloth rather than some grand morality. Some inventions I know are very much against the premise of fighting and killing.

People mistake inventions. They are not good, they are not noble. It is not that they can kill but choose not to, it is that they are harmless in the first place. An organized band of mortals, not even magicians, will be able to take down nine in ten inventions.

The more common stance is the acceptance of warfare. However even this, I would write, is some joyous act as moralists like to write. It is a fact that Divines have power, so naturally we will use that power. Most of us do not celebrate in killing, however most of us understand that sometimes, only the blade can sort an issue out.

I would not even say it is bad. It is perfectly natural. We are ageless and infertile. When mortals are enemies, they can still shake hands and settle a peace for the good of their offspring. When someone like Kassandora is your enemy, what can you even shake hands over? The moment the Goddess of War declares you as being in her sights, you have a target permanently etched onto your back. Another fact I would add is that mortals change their views about as often as Divines do, which is never. Mortal society still advances because new generations come to replace the old, it is not a case of ideas being defeated, it is a case of ideas being replaced.

Thus, we get to the Divine issue. We do not die in anyway but by combat. A figure like Kassandora, who seeks to turn everything into a war. A figure like Olephia, who is untouchable, a figure like Fer, who is beyond brutal in all her actions, a figure like Arascus, who is ever hungry in his need for conquest. How can we ever get along with these figures? If Arascus was a mortal king, he would have a simple solution. It wouldn’t matter if he had all the powers he had, even if he had all the Divines he called Daughter-Goddesses on his side. He could simply be out-waited until time felled him.

But Arascus is Divine, so he is ageless. Kassandra, Fer, Anassa likewise. There is no debate to be had. It is not that they are wrong in their logic. It is that they come from such a rotten foundation that whatever ideas they manage to construct will inevitably be tainted by the cursed soil they are built on. When the situation looks like this, is a fight to the death not the most obvious way to solve our issues?

Excerpt from “The Issue of Immortality”, written by Goddess Maisara, of Order.

“We are ready on your mark.” Olonia heard the voice of one of her soldiers come through the earpiece. She had sworn to learn their names, but that hadn’t worked out. Very simply, everything had moved too quickly. By the time she got to the campsite with Iliyal, Kavaa and Fer, where they had trained, the three were discussing ways of getting back to Arika in order to inform Kassandora about the Tartarus threat.

Then they had learned that Epan Separation had happened whilst they were underground. Helicopters came to pick them up, Fer carried Iliyal and Kavaa out of Erdely to be picked up by their jets. And they split up once again. When Olonia had returned to Zawitz, she was swarmed with Jozef’s men all asking for an opinion on what to do.

And what was she supposed to say to that? She wasn’t a general, she didn’t even consider herself a fighter. Yet, she swarmed, so she said what she imagined Iliyal would say. ‘We have to secure our logistics lines.’ Frankly, she had no clue what that meant, but she heard Iliyal say it once when he was discussing battle-plans with Kavaa.

And so, somehow, only a few days later, she was starting at Zamek Ksios, Ksios Castle when translated. A large beast of a structure, it wasn’t one of those castle towns that they built in Rancais and Allia, but rather a huge fortress that sat overlooking a riverbend. An hour’s drive was one of the major highways which connected Lubska and Doschia, so Ksios had to fall. The fact it was situated on a river was just as bad. She didn’t expect it, but Iliyal had taught her to prepare for the worst in every scenario.

The worst in this was for the river to be poisoned, and for a solid third of the country to be rendered without a source of hydration. Olonia stared up at those smooth walls, rounded, with arrow-slits for windows. It had crenulations on the walls and balconies, but the roof itself was copper. Maybe a millennia ago it was a proud bronze, but now it was a vivid blue-green as if it tried to copy the beautiful blue sky above. Olonia could make out people watching her party through the arrow-slits and Paladins preparing through the windows.

The gatehouse had been shut, the drawbridge raised. There was most likely another Divine like Waramunt in that fortress. Olonia didn’t know what to think. She didn’t think it was terror, but it was nothing positive. Fer would have been excited no doubt, Kavaa would just consider it another job. But Olonia? She didn’t know, maybe it was supposed to be an adventure?

But adventures weren’t supposed to be massacres. Which is exactly what was about to happen here. Olonia sighed as she clicked her earpiece. “Breacher team, are we ready?”

The reply came instantly. A man with a heavy voice that sounded as if he smoked too much. “Ready and waiting.” Olonia smiled and clicked her own piece.

“Blow it.” She raised her blade, and pointed it at the door. Bielik could be used to breach it of course, but she had not been subjected to Fer’s beatings for so long only for her to rely on Bielik every time the situation called on it. The Breacher team did blow it. Olonia heard a hiss come from the nearby pushes, a man swore and something large screamed as it hurtled towards the raised drawbridge.

A Doschian invention, Wissel was afraid of what would happen if the White Pantheon was to start deploying its own heavy armour, so a weapon called the Panzerriss had been designed in advanced. There was no great vehicles to deploy it against, but that only meant they had an excess of rockets for it.

Olonia didn’t know if the rocket was fast or slow. Slower than a bullet, no doubt, but the size of her fist. Screamed and whistled and just gently caress the wood of the drawbridge. For a moment, Olonia thought it was a dud. She saw the head bury itself into the bark.

And then she saw the ball of fire. The rain of stone, the storm of wooden chips, the three great steel beams that held the drawbridge whole were wrenched away and launched into the air. They cascaded into the grass as the smoke start to clear and the fine chunks of rubble started to beat down on the field. Olonia slammed the visor on her helmet shut and was already running. The men got the order.

The bushes around Ksios opened fire. And men started to drop. From the tall walls to those who were putting up shields in preparation. A new design had been introduced since Arika, much heavy steel that the small rounds merely plinked against and bounced off. Glass windows shattered and another explosion came from another Panzerriss rocket. In the chaos, no one so much as tried to mount a defence. Olonia did not have to dodge a single crossbow bolt. She still ran with all the awareness Iliyal had tried to instil in her. Never once looking too long at one spot, always keeping herself prepared. Always anticipating the worst. Iliyal had told her to imagine what it would be to fight against herself. Olonia only found that a challenge, how could you prepare for against yourself? She knew her own weaknesses, and then she fought against Fer. And she realised she had so many weaknesses there wasn’t even point to list them.

Olonia disappeared into that grey cloud of smoke as the soldiers behind her started pushing up. It was a disorganized mess of men in camouflaged shirts, holding rifles. Some knelt to provide covering fire, others ran straight for the gate. Others still closed half the distance, dropped to the ground, aimed at a window or an arrow slit and waited for an opening. And Olonia, with her marvellous white hair and sleek armour, with sword in one hand and shield in the other, appeared on the other side of that cloud of smoke.

Two Paladins, large bulky men, one with a greatsword, the other with a spear and pike. Olonia focused on them immediately, her eyes fixed on them, but for each instant she was looking at that man heft his blade into the air, she was spending two scouting out the walls and windows. No archers or crossbowmen had shown themselves yet. Olonia let the man take the first swing. She jumped to the right, her own sword quickly round just above the man’s sword, and she split his side open at the chest. He fell, the man wouldn’t be standing up from that.

Poof. And Olonia felt something good within herself. She turned to the spearman, with the huge shield. Defensive, true, but she had sparred with Agrita. And Agrita was faster and stronger. Olonia stepped forwards and fought in that same dirty way Kavaa did. She slammed her shield into the man’s spear, she kicked the shield. The man fell onto his back, Olonia’s sword made a hole through his heart. And another man fell.

And she got into the rhythm of it. She couldn’t have felled more than ten of the Guardians before they realised they couldn’t touch her. She feigned blows, she sidestepped blows, she dodged and she weaved and the few she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape, she knocked back with her shield. And for every blow she dodged, she landed one. A Paladin dropped his weapon after being cut in the shoulder. Another fell after a single blow separate his head from his body. A kick to the legs broke bone, a bash with the shield broke ribs. And as Olonia moved, the Paladins fell. Olonia looked down at her blade as she drove it through a man. She took a step to the side to avoid a heavy greatsword. She raised her shield in time to deflect a crossbow bolt. She sidestepped to stop herself from getting swarmed. It was… it was exhilarating. Seven hundred years she had lived, and not once had she felt this alive. She kept swung and dodged and swung and jumped and swung and stabbed until there was nothing left to swing at.

Olonia swung her blade through the air and flicked the blood onto the stone. She looked at the retreating Paladins around her. They tried to retreat in an orderly fashion, but it was weak. If Saksma was here, if any of her friends were here to cover her back and help split attention, she would have charged in. But her friends weren’t here, and there was no one to watch her back in melee. Another burst of gunfire from outside sent more men in silver armour tumbling off the walls and onto the hard cobbles besides Olonia. They started to make quickly expanding puddles of red from the holes in their armour.

Olonia took a step forwards. The Paladins took a step back. Poof. Something appeared in Olonia. Something that appreciated the new respect she was being given. This was indeed how Divines should be treated. She took another step.

And she saw a figure step forwards. Half-again the height of the Paladins in their great suits of steel plate. This figure was as if somehow had taken one of them, and upscaled the man again. Olonia looked at the God’s green eyes through the helmet in his slit. Waramunt had not looked at her that way. No. Poof. And she felt a hunger within her. And it wasn’t the sort that a simple meal could fill, but this Divine in front of her did look tasty.

The way that Divine was looking at her, was the way she looked at Fer.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep