Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 328: Turning the Tide (2)

Kalosia descended through Shadranes as if light had chosen a body for a moment. The god’s voice did not belong to any one age or gender; it held the timbre of an elder and the lilt of a child, the clarity of a maiden and the steadiness of a young man, all braided together until no single thread could be teased free. When Shadranes lifted her eyes, stars looked back from them. A great god stood on the Mortal Realm again.

“It has been too long,” Kalosia said, and the sound carried a bright ease. “I am pleased to meet you again.”

Ketal smiled at the tone. “You sound in very good spirits.”

“I am,” Kalosia replied without the slightest attempt to hide it. “How could I not be? Necrobix is dead.”

Necrobix was one of the Four Pillars of Hell and among the first demons to be named when Hell itself first learned to speak. It was an ancient enemy who had wrought terrible devastation during the Divine-Demonic War.

“In those days, at least ten gods fell to that creature,” Kalosia said. “I crossed it more than once. It was a dreadful thing, strong beyond measure.”

However, thanks to Ketal, Necrobix was gone now.

“In the heavens, it feels like a festival,” Kalosia went on, and the warmth in the god’s voice did not diminish even when the words turned solemn. “We have not known a mood like this since we won the Divine-Demonic War.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Ketal said.

“As you guessed, we were not absent out of indifference,” Kalosia explained. “Hell blocked us.”

They had sealed the ladders, sealed the light, sealed the roads the gods used when they wished to place a hand on the Mortal Realm. They had done it for Necrobix, so that it could ruin the world without interruption.

“We watched with open eyes while the Mortal Realm was stained,” Kalosia said. “It was more dangerous than you may have imagined. A few among us wondered, very seriously, whether we should spend some of our number to open the path by sacrifice.”

Ketal’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“It was near that line,” the god admitted. “And then you killed Necrobix. You ended the problem before we had to tear open the world. More than that, the outcome is better than merely solved.”

Kalosia’s voice quickened as if joy had gotten ahead of speech. “Hell spent heavily to keep us out while Necrobix roamed around. The other three Demon Lords threw in power, but that was not enough. They needed more.”

The god paused as if to measure the weight of a ledger line. “Several demons with titles and ranks were consumed.”

Even in Hell, Hero-level demons were not cheap. Perhaps a dozen existed who could be counted at that tier, and more than half had burned themselves in the weave that blocked the heavens.

“Even if Necrobix had lived, the damage on their side would have been hard to repair,” Kalosia said. “And then Necrobix died.”

The god’s gaze shifted, not to Ketal’s face but to a place just behind his ribs.

“It is there, is it not?” they asked softly.

“It is,” Ketal said.

“Do not address me, child,” the Abomination said in Ketal’s chest, and its indifference was a cold sheet of water poured over a flame.

At the sound of that voice, Kalosia’s power rose in a reflex as old as prey and predator. Shadranes’s fingers tightened, and light gathered clean and sharp along the lines of her hands. Then the god forced the edge down and smoothed the light away.

“The Abomination is truly in there,” Kalosia murmured. “I never imagined such a thing. No matter. You are holding the reins, and that is enough. The momentum has almost entirely passed to our side. There is little the demons can do now.”

“Then is it over?” Ketal asked them. The question held no triumph. It was the sober query of a man who had stood at too many graves to celebrate early.

“The situation is clear,” Kalosia said. “Hell will struggle to send further strength. We will purge what remains of the demons and their beasts. Once the nests are burned out, we will raise the barrier again.”

“The wall between the Mortal Realm and Hell, you mean?” Ketal asked the god.

“Yes. And it is going to be thicker than before,” Kalosia replied. “So thick that opening it again will be nearly impossible.”

“So in the end they are driven back, and we do not get to strike in kind,” Ketal said, thoughtful rather than accusatory. “From the Mortal side, it feels like being battered for months, and then the enemy is simply chased off.”

Kalosia laughed, not unkindly. “The Mortal Realm has always felt like that. Consider it a measure of how precious it is.”

“I understand,” Ketal said. He had seen the same story written on a smaller page, in lands that served as proxies for stronger powers. Only the scale differed here. The map stretched to a world.

“Still,” the god added, hearing the dry edge in his tone, “we made a decision.”

“What kind of decision?” Ketal asked them.

“You said it yourself. Hell spent a great deal to keep us out,” Kalosia replied. “Its strength has fallen in a way that matters.”

Paradox followed: precisely because Hell had weakened itself, the heavens now had room to move the other way.

“In the near term, we will descend into Hell and attack,” Kalosia said. “This is only for you to know.”

Ketal’s head lifted. “Into Hell itself?”

“Yes,” Kalosia said.

“Can I go?” Ketal asked at once.

Shadranes blinked, and even a god could be surprised. “What did you say?”

“I want to see it,” Ketal said, and he did not try to varnish the desire. His eyes shone with the open curiosity of a man who had tasted a hundred strange things and wanted another. “If you are going there, I would like to follow.”

“You remain peculiar,” Kalosia said, and the words came with a small, helpless laugh. “It is not impossible, but that is not the difficulty.”

“Then what is?” Ketal asked them.

“The problem is not travel,” Kalosia said. “It is politics. If you go to Hell with us, several gods will grow uneasy.”

“They fear I will change sides,” Ketal said, and he did not have to ask.

“I do not doubt you,” Kalosia said. “Most of us no longer consider you a threat. You killed a Demon Lord. Only a fool would oppose you after that.”

“But I was not born on either side,” Ketal finished.

“Yes,” Kalosia said. “You are not strictly ours. Some of them will worry that you will like Hell or that Hell will like you.”

Ketal clicked his tongue and laughed at himself. “Do they fear I will stay there?”

“If you insist, I can take you by my own accord,” Kalosia said. “I do have a voice in the Hall of the Gods. I can bend rules when I choose.”

Ketal opened his mouth to agree, then stopped.

“If you do that, it will make your position worse, will it not?” he asked them.

“It will,” Kalosia said. “I do not mind.”

Ketal breathed out and set the want aside. “Then I will let it go. It is not worth it if it costs you.”

“I expected you to press,” the god said, sounding almost disappointed. “The you I first met would have asked on the spot.”

“If it harms you, it is not necessary,” Ketal said, and his smile this time held none of the wildness that had once made priests flinch. “You have treated me fairly.”

“That is... appreciated,” Kalosia said, and the honesty in the reply made the moment warmer than any ceremony could have.

“So then,” Ketal said, “why ask to meet me? You said there was something to tell me.”

“Nothing elaborate,” Kalosia replied. “I wanted to say thank you.”

Ketal raised his brows. “Thank you?”

“You saved the Mortal Realm,” Kalosia said. “You saved my followers, and the followers of other gods, and you saved people who do not believe. Without you, most of them would have died to Necrobix.”

Shadranes began to bow, but the movement carried the will of the god within her. It was not the Saintess but the divine presence that bent. A great being was offering courtesy to a mortal who had once been nothing more than a wanderer in the snow.

“Thank you, Ketal,” Kalosia said. “For saving my children. For saving the world. For saving mortals.”

For a heartbeat, Ketal could not find a reply. Something inside him opened like a door unlatched by a familiar hand. He had wanted the world to remain a place that remembered its stories. It felt, now, as if the world had noticed.

“When all this is over,” Kalosia said, “I will repay you. If you wish, I will even take you traveling in the heavens.”

Ketal’s eyes brightened like a boy’s. “You can do that? Please do!”

The god hesitated a fraction, as if taken aback by the naked delight. “I knew you would be pleased, but I did not expect quite that much. Very well. When it is done, I will come again.”

“I will look forward to it,” Ketal said, and his grin made even Hayes’s mouth tilt despite her attempt to look proper.

The light began to leave Shadranes little by little. As it did, Kalosia seemed to remember something and spoke as if returning to an old hearth.

“I was the first god to speak with you,” the god said.

“You were,” Ketal agreed.

“When I told the others what I had found, most called me mad,” Kalosia said. “They said you were dangerous and should be removed at once. They held meetings to censure me.”

“You have had a hard time,” Ketal said, and the sympathy was free of mockery.

“It was not easy,” Kalosia said. “But look at the result.”

Ketal had aided the Mortal Realm and the heavens both. Without him, the current would have run another way.

“No one calls me a fool now,” Kalosia said, and the smile in the words was very nearly human. “I was the first to value you correctly. It feels good.”

“Then let us keep going,” Ketal said.

“We will,” Kalosia replied. “For a long time yet, I will count on you.”

“And I on you,” Ketal said.

The god’s presence left like music fading after the last note. Shadranes swayed, and Ketal stepped forward to steady her by the shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, catching her balance with a small, apologetic breath. “How was the conversation with Kalosia?”

“Enjoyable,” Ketal said. “Very satisfying. Thank you for carrying the voice.”

His smile was simple, and it left Shadranes warmer than a benediction.

***

The Tower Master stared when Ketal appeared on the forward line instead of waiting to be summoned.

“You came to me,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. He had always been the one to seek Ketal out, not the other way around. For Ketal to step into a field reeking of ash and tinctures looked like intent.

“Where is Serena?” the Tower Master asked him, peering around Ketal’s shoulder as if she might launch herself from behind him at any moment. “She usually trails you like a ribbon.”

“I sent her to Elfo Sagrado,” Ketal said. “Karin is injured, and Serena can help.”

There was another reason, and Ketal did not hide it from himself. For what he meant to ask, Serena’s presence would have complicated the conversation.

“I have a question,” he said, and the smile he wore did not hide the purpose in his eyes. “How stands the field?”

“Much improved,” the Tower Master said. “Everyone quietly believes we will win.”

The gods had begun to show themselves again. They issued guidance and moved their faithful. Demons and dark mages who had hidden like knives in cloth were being pulled out and broken with speed that would have seemed impossible a month ago.

“So we have a little room,” Ketal said.

“We do,” the Tower Master said, then narrowed his gaze. “What are you hoping for? The light in your eyes suggests trouble.”

“It is not terribly grand,” Ketal said. “You told me you would reward me further.”

The Tower Master had said that a single tower core was not thanks enough for what Ketal had done, and that if there was some other way to repay the debt, he would hear it. Ketal had asked for magic lessons because nothing else had seemed worth the breath.

“I remember,” the Tower Master said. “Do you want me to begin lessons now?”

“No,” Ketal said. “Something else.”

He tilted his head and asked it as if inquiring about the weather. “Serena said once that you had touched the gate of the heavens. Is that true?”

“In the past,” the Tower Master said, and the smile that tugged at his mouth was part rue and part pride. “Curiosity is not something I resist well. I wanted to know whether a mortal could reach that place. I tried. I failed.”

“Mortals cannot pass?” Ketal asked him.

“That is not quite it,” the Tower Master said. “There is a wall. A very hard one. Breaking it is not easy, and my relationships with the gods would have soured if I had kept pushing. I chose not to be foolish.”

“So reaching is possible,” Ketal said. “And if one can reach that way, the reverse should also be possible.”

The Tower Master went still, understanding creeping over his features like dawn over stone. “Wait. You...”

Kalosia had refused to take Ketal into Hell, not because they could not, but because others would make trouble for them if they did. Kalosia had offered to bend the rules anyway, but Ketal had chosen not to put that weight on them.

Then, I just have to take another path—one that doesn’t involve the gods, Ketal concluded.

“You are insane,” the Abomination said, and the laugh it let slip sounded almost fond.

Ketal turned back to the Tower Master, and his eyes had the same bright gleam they wore when he found a new technique he wanted to test.

“Can you take me to Hell?” he asked him.