Baalka has incredible ability, although she does not know what she wants or can handle. Every great disease or plague that was brought on by her has not been her own original idea but rather the implementation of a different mind’s wanderings. Even if we look just at the Great War, plague-animals were a product of the military, as diseased munitions and blades. Cropkillers were grown first in the Malam’s mind. The Giantsbane that was used to devour Archdemons and Seraphim was concocted by Fer, who got the idea after looking at insects hollow out the bark of rotting structures. Diseased-rains were a product of Kassandora’s mind, although that should surprise precisely no one. Likewise, cases such as the anti-disease disease, which we used to inject into our ill, or the attempts at cattle eugenics through Baalka were the products of humanity.

The Goddess of Disease was merely the catalyst that facilitated these ideas and brought them to reality. Whereas I respect Baalka’s intelligence on a raw level and would never deny she obviously has a technical mind that is fit for the laboratory, she has no love for the creativity of the arts.

Baalka’s request for Kavaa has been rescinded. Kavaa will serve her purpose in the Imperial Military and during the mass expansion of Clerics where she will make more of a difference for one. For two, I do not see a way in which Kavaa could be useful in her efforts to Baalka. Whereas there obviously exists a notion that Kavaa will speed up efforts through the facilitation of an infinite lifesource to serve as a testing bed, one needs to look at the scenario in a longer-term solution.

Whatever Kavaa and Baalka concoct will ultimately be influenced by the fact they are using Kavaa’s life as a testing bed. We will not send Kavaa to Tartarus, nor are we containing our first strike into their lands to be something so simple it can be contained through mere quarantine of infected individuals.

It is Olephia’s suggestion and I agree with her. Iniri has managed to withstand the blasts of Olephia’s power when she held up against Klavdiv. Her strength is adaptive and grounding. Baalka’s ultimate weakness is that she works in microbes and nothing else. Maybe there will come a time when we discover a cell that can devour steel. That time has not come yet and we will not wait for miracles. Iniri’s flora will serve as the carrier instead. How it will, I do not know, but I am certain they will manage it.

Tartarus has tried to swallow Arda once, it tries to drown us this time.

The only way this ends is with the boot of one world over the neck of the other.

When Arda finally heads to Tartarus, we will come only to cut down the roots that have strangled them.

– Excerpt from the Private Writings of God Arascus, of Pride.

Fortia shut the door to her hotel room with a crash. Alice had her own space. Maisara had her own space. Fortia had her own space. It was downright infuriating how terrible comfortable everything was. She looked around at the oversized bed, large enough for Arascus or for Fer to fit into, at the white shower, perfectly cleaned. At the fact they had even prepared not just one, but a choice of several shampoos for her. From a brown cocoa wash to the floral kinds and even a mint. And white tiles all, highly professional, highly clean. The bedsheets were a deep grey, underneath white. There was a huge television fixed onto the wall. And there were snacks. Fucking snacks left prepared for a Goddess.

Fortia angrily stomped over to the wooden table and took a biscuit. It was too large for a human, but it fit into her hand perfectly. It tasted fresh, as if they had been prepared today. The fact it were good was just as annoying. The fact she took another made her want to punch a hole into the wall. The fact she swallowed it and bit into a third practically made her vision go red. She knew Fer got a certain bloodlust when she smelled the crimson waters of life, this was probably how it felt like.

Off came the backpack, dropped onto the floor. Off came her shirt. Off went her shorts. She needed to wash it all off. Everything landed in a mess on the floor as Fortia stepped away and into the shower. The fact the water was already set to a temperature too hot for mortals, but pleasant for Divines, was annoying too. She stood there, mouth open and washed out the tasted of today. The meal Fer had brought them. The honest negotiation Iliyal had offered, if it was honest. Maybe it wasn’t. It most likely was. If the Empire wanted them dead, they would be dead already. Fer, for all her smiles, would turn deadly. Anassa would be brought in. Elassa would gleefully cheer on their destruction. Most likely even Arascus would come to honour them with a final blow.

That was simply the nature of not having any leverage.

Fortia stood there as the warm water ran across her face. She reached for one of the multitudes of shampoos. The green, mint one ended up in her hand. It almost stung with freshness as bubbles ran down her hips and legs to collect on the shower’s tiles. Fortia finished washing herself one. She washed again. And again. Her mind went blank as she focused on the sensation of warm water mixed with the cool, minty soap. For a moment, she was about to hum.

Her door opened. Someone stepped in. “Are you taking a shower?” Maisara asked.

“I am.” Fortia called back. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“You can come in.” Fortia replied as she began to scrub her hair. They had washed each other’s backs more times than could be counted.

“I’ve showered already.” Maisara replied dryly. “I’m about to crash and break something.”

“Don’t break my bed.” Fortia said.

“Are you planning to sleep?”

“It’s just bad form.” Fortia called out as she began to rinse her hair out. “We don’t want to get a bad reputation.” Maisara laughed from the other room. Fortia finished quickly, she turned the water off. The fact the towels were so terribly soft that they were obviously made of some precious material was annoying too, but it didn’t matter. The Goddess of Peace wrapped the whole towel around her and stepped in front of the steamed mirror.

Why she wiped the fog, she didn’t know. Her own face infuriated her the moment she did. It was unchanged, pristine, still glinting with a few drops of water she had missed in her hurried drying. It was the sort of perfect beauty a human could only aspire to and yet still managing to seem within impossible reach. And it was tired. Divines did not get rings under their eyes nor did their faces wrinkle, but she saw her downcast eyes. How her eyelids looked as if they were struggling to stay up. Her the corners of her mouth creased downwards. Another crash came over her. The only thing that maintained this mirror’s integrity was the fact it was not hers and she didn’t want to make anymore of a scene than had already happened.

She stepped out into the cool room. Outside, past the balcony, cars rolled past as the world went on with its day. People walked along the bridges that went over the motorway. Trains were constantly running, most likely to make up for the fact that the only thing clouding the blue sky was a few flocks of birds and not a single plane. And inside, Maisara was sprawled out over Fortia’s bed. The Goddess of Order’s silver hair was damp, changing its colour to something more resembling night’s fog. She was wearing a simple shirt and a fresh pair of shorts, arms spread out over the bed, legs bent at the knee and dangling towards the ground. Maisara did not even look at Fortia as the Goddess of Peace came to sit down next her, still in her towel.

And two Goddesses lay suffering on that bed, staring up in the lights on the ceilings. Fortia found Maisara’s hand with her own, fingers interlocked. They just breathed out their annoyance. “The biscuits were good.” Maisara said.

“I know.” Fortia said.

“The shower was warm.” Maisara said.

“I know.”

“The towel was sized for Divines.”

“I know.”

“I hate it.”

“I do too.” Fortia said. It was so terribly professional, so terribly well-ordered, so terribly peaceful, that there was simply no point for Fortia to exist at this point. She had been given a thousand years to manage a world. She had achieved what exactly? Arascus had been out for how long now? Three? Four? And it was just one crushing blow against Fortia’s pride after another. It would be less painful if the man just materialized right here to put a blade through her stomach.

“Why have we done anything?” Maisara asked.

“I don’t know.” Fortia replied. There had been no plan. Everything had just been one terrible idea after another, from the rushed invasion of Kirinyaa to this Of Empire nightmare. What would they even do? What would they even bargain for? That was the worst part of everything. That briefing with Iliyal had destroyed their goal. They had thought they would need to negotiate for biscuits and Iliyal just sat there as he revealed the feast that had been prepared. The only time they had an advantage was with the initial assault onto Epa.

Arascus had answered with a domino of coups and a continent being cracked open. If they were playing the same game, then they were playing in different leagues. Fortia’s demesne stretched to the battlefield, Arascus’ had no end.  “It is like back then, isn’t it?” Maisara asked. What she was referencing didn’t have to be said. After Allasaria turned Arascus down, the God of Pride had gone to them.

And it was the exact same thing. They seen the blueprint for a new world. They saw their names in the footnotes instead of the title. And they had cast him away. “It’s worse.” Fortia replied.

Maisara took a deep breath. “At least back then, we could pretend to be optimistic.”

“I know.”

“So?” Maisara asked. “What now?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Fortia asked.

Maisara’s voice was light when she answered, almost trembling. “Because you’re smarter than me.”

“The results speak for themselves.” Fortia said. “My intelligence is so grand it put the Pantheon into a death spiral.” She chuckled mirthlessly at the comment. Someone had to take responsibility for it. And there was no way she was allowing Helenna, Kavaa and Iniri the credit of being the ones who ended the White Pantheon that stood for a thousand years.

“I don’t care.” Maisara replied. “I don’t know what to do, so I’m asking you.”

“I don’t either.” She took a deep breath and squeezed Maisara’s hand. The lights above were switch off. Enough shine came in from the windows that they weren’t needed. Fortia took a deep breath, her free hand on her stomach, as she felt it rise and fall. “What about…” These rooms were most likely being monitored. “You know.”

Maisara knew exactly what Fortia was hinting at. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Fortia asked. “We’d be heroes again.”

“Aren’t we already?” Maisara asked.

“But to…” She trailed off. What was she about to even say? “To the leadership.” That was a better way to phrase it rather than to him.

“And for what?” Maisara asked. “At this point, when they offer those terms, what can we even ask for?” She fell silent for a moment as a thought crossed through Fortia’s mind. It was a downright terrible thought, wasn’t it? Just the worst. A betrayal of the Pantheon and everything it had ever stood for. Everything they had done in the Great War and the years since would be rendered worthless by it.

“I can think of one thing.” Fortia said.

“Don’t say it.” Maisara replied. “Because I’m thinking of it too.”

“It’d be entertaining.” Fortia said. “Wouldn’t it?”

“It would be a betrayal of everything they stand for and represent.” Maisara said. “To try and buy access into that circle.”

“I think we’d get along.” She still couldn’t believe Fer had said they could fix her lack of ambition outside of warfare. And the fact that Fortia could almost believe her.

“It’s not for us.” Maisara said and Fortia tightened her fingers. “It’s not for me.”

“He brought you back to life.” Fortia said.

“His daughter killed me.” Maisara replied.

“Yet you’re still here.” Maisara did not reply. She just took a deep breath and rolled over, onto her side to look at Fortia.

“I know.” She said. “She killed me and he brought me to life and if it weren’t for you, I would just ask him to kill me again.” Fortia closed her eyes as she felt Maisara put her head closer. “And now, if it weren’t for you, I honestly would have no reason to stay on this world.” Fortia rolled over and hugged Maisara, bringing her close to her own neck so that she could nuzzle.

“I know.” Fortia said. “And I want to say sorry for not doing the same.”

Maisara laughed without any joy. “Don’t.” She said. “Because there’s no point. I wouldn’t want you to do it either.” She took a deep breath. “And I’m going to have to apologize to you instead.”

“Why?”

“Because the choice is yours, I know what decision should be made and I’m too stubborn, too honest, too much of myself to make it.” Hands wrapped around Fortia’s back, Maisara’s voice was a terrified squeak. “So please, do it for me.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep