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Aldin enters an exhibition hall.
The method to make a god Fall, contrary to its extreme adverse effects, is quite simple: a lift, a drop, and the sculpture crashes onto the ground. The action is practically mindless to perform.
What Bifnen Dial Robane wants, however, is not just a Fall.
Aldin drags out a ladder from a hidden storage room. The Pantheon building looms above, its immortal residents next to it in the form of sculptures. With great care, Aldin slowly climbs the ladder until she reaches the Pantheon.
She picks up one of the statues. It wears a mask in the shape of a water buffalo skull, a cape in the shape of butterfly wings, and a hood that encapsulates the night sky inside it. Aldin holds the sculpture with such unnatural gentleness that she was practically cradling it in her palm.
The rotten heart inside of her, forcefully silent since a long time ago, beats once.
It is a disgusting feeling.
Aldin lets out a shaky breath. She forcefully throws the sculpture down, and Nebula Falls.
Aldin watches as the sculpture rolls once, twice, and belatedly shatters into pieces. The shards twinkle and gleam back at her in a last act of defiance. She looks away like a coward, opting instead to pick up another sculpture. This time, the sculpture represents a different god. Instead of making its respective god Fall, however, she squeezes it tight with all of her strength.
Bifnen doesn’t just want the false gods to Fall. He wants something worse. Something so taboo the other old gods don’t dare to even think about it.
The statue holds on stubbornly, but it soon gives way to the inevitable, and explodes in her hand. Aldin releases her grip on the now-broken sculpture and looks at how the pieces glistens: not with light, but with her blood.
There are two ways to take away the divinity of a god. One way is to make them Fall. Upon its sculpture shattering on the ground, a god who has Fallen will be ejected from that divinity, becoming a mortal like all the others on Avartin. They can bleed, get hurt, and die like a mortal. Despite this, if they play their cards right, gods after Falling can live a fulfilling life and eventually pass away peacefully.
The second option won’t allow them to have that chance.
Shakily, Aldin watches as the bloodied pieces of the former statue in her hand dissolve into dust. They blow away with an invisible force of wind, and all that is left is her hand, her blood, and her corroding morality.
She looks at Nebula’s broken statue. The shards still rest on the ground, indifferent to the heinous act Aldin had just committed.
It’s the last act of mercy she can give him.
Aldin doesn’t know if that thought is truly directed at Choi Sung-Woon.
Nebula suddenly looks up and turns his head.
“What is it?” the Frogman next to him asks. The Goblin medic that treated his palm scurries away to go back to the revolutionary soldiers that are positioned on top of the hill.
Even after Falling, Nebula holds an unusually high amount of magic. The sheer amount of it is enough for him to be considered a Wizard, and one who has reached Tuning. Because of this, his senses have sharpened and have become more sensitive to the environment around him, going past the original five senses. When he had woken up in the sarcophagus of the Baustan Sanctuary, he had been hit with a mild dizzying spell, but was surprisingly fine otherwise. And now, his senses are telling him that something is off.
“...It’s nothing,” Nebula eventually says, turning back around to the Frogman in front of him.
The alarms blaring in his head protest.
“...And so, the old gods returned across Avartin, and the gods of the Pantheon have fallen and are now mortals.”
With all due disrespect, Hegemonia feels like punching someone. Unfortunately for her, that someone is actually multiple someones, and (as much as she loathes to admit it) too powerful for her to beat them up until they die.
But it doesn't matter. First, she’s going to find a way to wipe out those worthless so-called ‘old gods.’ She is going to kill them, wait until they regenerate, and then kill them all over again, slowly and painfully. It doesn’t matter that she only just came back from vassalization. It doesn’t matter that those sorry excuses for gods are more powerful than she is.
After she’s satisfied, she’s going to find Nebula. Hegemonia is going to find wherever the hell Nebula is, and she will beat him up too.
The audacity of this asshole. He killed her and vassalized her, then got bested by those… things.
Is he mocking her?
The more Hegemonia thinks about it, the more she wants to punch him over and over again until he apologizes.
No one can bring down Nebula except for her.
While her thoughts are racing, the other two gods and the vampire are conversing with each other. Hegemonia passively listens, but she doesn’t bother registering the words into her head. It was when one of the gods (A hazmat suit? What kind of fashion sense is that?) mentions waiting that her own patience thins.
“I won’t allow it.”
She had slammed the armrest of the stone chair she was sitting on once before, but it now gives out as she repeats the action. She abruptly stands up and looks straight at Avartin. “I’m going. This time, I will definitely win.”
The hazmat suit protests behind her, talking about insufficient Divinity and Faith points. Even though Hegemonia has no idea who they are, she can’t believe their cowardice. When she points out that she has enough resources to use Hierophany, the hazmat suit doesn’t believe her. She dismisses the player, already having a guess as to what they’re like.
“Why don’t you stay aside like a coward then? I don’t care.”
Before any of them can reply, she jumps toward Avatin’s sky.
Aldin picks up the Bolt statue in the exhibition hall and crushes it. Her hand, by now, is crusted with dried blood and numb to the point that new cuts feel invisible to her. Aldin’s eyes feel dull, her heart heavy like an unmoving stone in her chest. She uses her other hand to take Chistka, in their tank form, and squeezes it until it shatters as well.
All that is left is Hegemonia.
She looks at the third Sky Castle from the top, where the hulking sculpture of the God of War is shown in all her glory. Or rather, her soon-to-be former glory. Painstakingly, she climbs the ladder until she reaches it. The sculpture is taller than Aldin, meaning she can’t crush it in her hand like she did with all the others. She tries hugging it and using her arms to break her, but the sculpture doesn’t budge. She tries again. Nothing.
Aldin attempts to punch the statue instead. It wobbles, but still shows no sign of cracking. If it wasn't for her hand being numb, it would have hurt a lot. The lack of pain makes her try again. And again. And again. Cracks start appearing on the sculpture’s torso. With each hit, the statue cracks more and more.
She punches it one more time. The sculpture topples backward.
“Shit!” Aldin reaches forward to steady it, but it’s too late. The statue falls off the Sky Castle and shatters by impact on the ground.
Aldin breathes heavily on the ledge of the Sky Castle, looking down at the broken pieces.
Hegemonia has Fallen.
War knows that something is wrong when Her recently achieved Incarnation form pulses once. Then twice.
Ignoring it, She continues to push ahead. She is almost at the top, only needing to defeat two more Sky Castles until She can reach the uppermost Sky Castle. It was when She hears shouts behind her that She turns around, still holding the decapitated head of a Demon.
“The Fall is starting!”
The hazmat suit Falls first. Falling isn’t a glorious event; there are no fireworks, nor a burst of light. It is demure yet efficient, a silent killer. Their flames weaken, then flicker, then go out completely as They topple off the Sky Castle, through the clouds, and down towards Avartin soil, leaving Their Divinity behind.
Pistol head is the next to go. War doesn’t watch long enough to see Their fall because Her attention is soon taken by a raging Demon lunging towards Her.
Surprisingly, War doesn’t Fall right after the other two. Her extra time is spent just like any other, however: fighting against the Demons.
She knows that She has limited time. She knows that just like Nebula, She won’t be able to escape the Fall, no matter what She does. War’s Fall is inevitable, but War hates the inevitable.
That is why War channels Her rage even more toward Her enemies. She fights, and fights, and fights again. Even when She feels a phantom touch to Her Incarnation, even when She feels a strange yet powerful pull, She stubbornly holds on and fights.
But fighting isn’t enough.
Falling feels like being forcefully pushed down to the ground. Falling feels like an invincible and invisible force crushing Her into a mortal form. Falling is inevitable, and War is no exception.
Just like the two before Her, War Falls. She Falls, and she is no longer the Incarnation of War, but a—
The first thing Hegemonia feels is pain.
It hurts like a bitch. More specifically, her head hurts like a bitch. It takes on the form of a sharp pain akin to lightning, threatening to disorganize her thoughts.
Falling, she decides, is annoyingly painful.
Has Nebula gone through this too?
Hegemonia powers through anyway and opens her eyes. Or tries to, as the next feeling that hits her is heaviness.
It’s not just her eyelids that refuse to open. Her fingers remain still, her head locked in place, and her feet are weighed down by a force she can’t explain. She refuses to give up, though, and with a greater effort than she would have liked she forces her eyes to open.
A blank, white ceiling greets her in return, mostly blocked by her helmet. A passive ringing in her ears that she doesn’t even know she has fades away, and she hears muffled voices coming from a source she can’t locate.
As if opening her eyes has unlocked the rest of her strength, she manages to sit up from where she lay (A bed? How long was she out that they had to put her in a bed, of all things?), only to press a hand to her helmet to try and relieve the throbbing in her head. She closes her eyes again and frowns.
This sucks. It’s probably one of the worst days of her life.
As if she doesn’t have enough to think about already, the door to the room where she is currently in opens and someone walks in.
“Angry One, I dare to intrude,” the stranger says. “How are you feeling?”
Hegemonia reaches up and removes her helmet. With its purpose of hiding her face now gone, the helmet is reduced to an annoying obstacle. She runs a hand through her now-messy hair and opens her eyes again, looking at the person. A Lizardman returns her gaze. “What is”—she tries not to cough from her uncooperative throat—“a believer of Night Sky doing here?” Hegemonia asks instead of answering his question.
If he’s surprised at her revealing her face, he doesn’t show it. “I am to guard you, Angry One. It is an order of the highest priority.”
She isn’t satisfied with that answer. “And who gave that useless order? Am I to stay here, as useless as a sitting duck?”
“This is different, Angry One,” the Lizardman says. His voice is tense, and although he shows no emotion, Hegemonia notices his grip on his rifle being unnaturally tight. “The gods… they are gone.”
What? “Excuse me?” Hegemonia must have heard wrong. “The gods Fell, have they not? Are you saying you guys can’t even find them?”
A beat. “That is not it, Angry One.”
“Explain, then.” She makes her voice more demanding. “And do it quickly. Don’t think that I can’t kill you right now just because I’m mortal.”
The Lizardman’s grip grows tighter. “The gods”—he takes a deep breath—“have been afflicted with a strange ailment, and are currently unresponsive. We think it is a coma that comes with the effects of Falling, but...” his voice trails off, and picks up again. “Vital signs show that they were clinically dead. Resuscitation measures have been taken but failed.”
“How long?” Hegemonia asks.
“Since the day the old gods have returned to Avartin. That was five days ago.”
Hegemonia doesn’t say anything. It creates an uneasy silence. The room, without a clock to count the seconds, is eerily quiet.
They’re all dead. What the fuck happened? Weren’t they supposed to Fall?
Hegemonia considers the Vampire that revived her being a traitor, but she quickly brushes aside that theory. Mortals have too little power to be able to interfere. It would have to be another god that caused this. Most likely the old gods, since they’re the reason the Pantheon Fell in the first place.
“Where is Night—” Something rises in her throat, and her words cut off. She reaches to cover her mouth, but it’s too late. She coughs.
An overwhelming metallic taste attacks her, and something wet flows from her mouth.
Fuck.
She doesn’t stay awake long enough to know what happens next.
“It is better for you to die now before the system assimilates you.”
Nebula looks at the gun pointed to his head.
In a different circumstance, he would have been quite bored of the whole situation, as he would be when facing an opponent that refuses to surrender like the one in front of him.
“For me to die,” he repeats, “just like how you killed them?”
He narrows his eyes at the person holding the gun. She wears his sister’s face, but they can’t be any more different from each other. It reminds him of the trick Jang-Wan tried to pull on him, back during the war within the third continent. He didn’t spite Seo-Yoon for it; he would have used it to his advantage himself if he was in that situation.
Now, seeing the person in front of him only makes him feel disgusted.
“No,” she replies to Nebula’s words. “Not if you don’t resist. This is my final act of mercy to you.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eye twitches at the unnatural crudeness.
“I’m not accepting that as an excuse,” Nebula continues. He leans back in his chair. “Don’t think that you can write off the atrocities you committed by invoking mercy’s name. That’s for cowards who want to justify themselves to the judge of their own morality. But I suppose,” he adds, when the other stays silent. “There is none of that left in you to do so.”
After another moment of silence, she quietly says, “You’re correct. That is why I have no qualms about killing you now.”
“Well, shoot me then.” He spreads his arms out. “Go ahead.”
She meets his gaze for the first time in their current conversation. Her expression is an emotionless doll; she moves as if controlled by a puppeteer. She doesn’t hesitate to shoot.
The bullets stop mid-air.
Her expression doesn’t change. She merely tilts her head and fires again and again until she runs out of bullets. She fires one more time, as if she’s making sure the magazine is empty.
Nebula looks at the bullets. He reaches out and taps one of them, and they all clatter onto the table as if an invisible string has been cut.
She lowers her gun. “Magic shouldn’t be able to exist.” Her voice is still the same unpolished and dull tone, despite her words. “Even as the creator of this imagery world, being able to—”
Nebula doesn’t want to hear any more of her words. He suddenly stands up and taps the table. The fake room topples. She steps back, but escaping is meaningless.
“This is not an imagery world,” Nebula says. The familiar humming of the machines greets him. He gives a faint smile, but it holds a silent viciousness. “‘Welcome to the Sanctuary’ is what I would have said, except that there is no sanctuary that can reach you here.”
The rest goes by in a blur. The Sanctuary pauses time. He destroys the former system and the structure of the gods. There will no longer be a Pantheon, but a Hall; Nebula will no longer be a god, but a Constellation. Anyone can become a Constellation if they meet the requirements.
[Currently, 10 candidates for Constellations have been identified based on the criteria. Would you like to review them?]
Nebula stares at the number. “Yes,” he finally decides.
Himself, Hegemonia, the five evil gods, and…
“Not them. Never.”
The Sanctuary understands.
[Would you like their existence erased?]
Nebula lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he quietly voices his opinion. “Their judgement is better left with someone else.”
[Are you sure?]
“If their fate is left in my hands any longer—” Nebula’s voice cuts off abruptly, as if stopping himself from proclaiming any more. His fingernails dig into his palms, leaving crescent marks on the skin.
[I understand. Very well.] The Sanctuary does not press further.
Nebula grants the rest the authority of the Constellations, but pauses at Hegemonia’s name. “Hegemonia Fell instead.”
Considering the exhibition hall is his imagery world, there is no doubt that Nebula would know if anything happens there. He didn’t see it for himself, but he instinctively knew what had happened with Hegemonia’s sculpture. Despite this, he had sought out the Sanctuary’s confirmation as if to make sure that it’s real.
[That is correct, player Nebula.]
“Her body has likely suffered damage from that, right?”
[Player Hegemonia is currently unconscious. She is not in critical condition.]
“I see.”
Thinking about Hegemonia’s injuries deeply irritates him. If Hegemonia is irreversibly damaged, it would be difficult for Nebula to follow through with his plans after Avartin. He needs her alive.
He doesn't acknowledge the other reason pertaining to his bitter anger.
Hegemonia opens her eyes and is immediately assaulted with a familiar headache.
“Ugh…” She doesn’t remember being this weak when she was a mortal. Now she has to regain her senses all over again. The taste of blood in her mouth remains prevalent, reminding her of what had happened before she fell unconscious. Fortunately, she regains her bearings much faster this time around. She tries to raise one of her arms and is surprised that she’s covered with something soft.
Covers? Strange. She swears those aren’t there before—
“Oh, you’re finally up?”
Hegemonia immediately turns her head to see a familiar figure sitting on a nearby chair in all his insufferable glory.
“You’re usually so chatty,” the insufferable asshole continues when she doesn’t say anything at first. “Did Falling also take away your voice?”
“You!” Hegemonia glares at him with all the energy she can muster. The anger in her voice is cushioned by the hoarseness coating her words.
“Yes, me. Did you miss me?”
“In your dreams.”
“Maybe I should sleep more from now on, then.”
“Don’t say useless things.”
“I would never,” Nebula says. Hegemonia can practically hear the smirk under his mask.
“You’re going to worsen my headache if you keep talking.” Without her helmet weighing her head down, Hegemonia finds it easier this time to sit up. She’s still in the same room as before. The white ceiling, the painted walls, and the bed that looks quite expensive once she looks at the details more closely.
Hegemonia still feels Nebula’s eyes on her. “How are you feeling?” he asks with a surprising edge of concern to his tone.
“Like shit.”
“I noticed.” Nebula reaches out and hands her a glass of water from the cabinet next to the bed. Hegemonia’s pride snarls, but she isn’t in a good enough state to refuse help because of it.
After downing the water, the disadvantage Hegemonia is currently in starts to hit her full force, as if the drink had washed away an invisible cloudiness in her mind. “What are you doing here anyway? There’s still a war going on.”
“Not anymore,” Nebula says. He explains what had happened after she had Fallen: The banishment of the old system, the Sanctuary, the Constellations. He talks about how his apostle-now-Constellation had delivered the final blow on the old gods. After he finishes, Hegemonia doesn’t say anything at first, running a hand through her messy hair in frustration that Nebula’s explanation only leaves her with more questions than answers.
In The Lost World, players had had an option to either exit the game immediately or stay to continue their playthrough after a victory. Although she had heard about people who liked to take screenshots of their wins and post them like trophies on online forums, Hegemonia herself had preferred to join another game as quickly as possible. Bragging, she had thought, was for fools who were either overconfident or insecure about their skills. In the few suboptimal cases where Hegemonia had suffered a defeat, her feelings became more prominent. A few broken tables (and a monitor, at one point) had been the unfortunate subjects of her anger.
But now, in Avartin, there are no tables to break, and no monitors to smash. There is only Hegemonia, and the broken remnants of her defeat.
Regardless, she is no coward.
“So.” She rips off the bandage. “What are you going to do with me now that it’s over?”
Nebula makes a noise of contemplation. “That’s a difficult question.”
This bastard. He already knows the answer, but he’s just pretending to think about it. “I know thinking is hard for you,” she says slowly, looking straight at him, “but you better answer honestly or I’ll find a way to kill you myself, Constellation or not.”
“I don’t doubt your skills, but you aren’t in a position to back up those words.”
Hegemonia is harshly reminded of her current vulnerability. She glares at him again. “My point still stands.”
Nebula gives a hum of acknowledgement. Then, he says, “I’m going to start a new game. Somewhere else that’s not Avartin.”
Hegemonia is almost tempted to shake the answers out of him. “Answer properly.”
He sighs. “There’s no point in staying here forever. You know that.”
Hegemonia does know. Contrary to being in the middle of a game, the endgame tended to be too stagnant for her liking, and Nebula would also think the same.
"We're the only ones left here anyway," Hegemonia says out loud.
Nebula pauses at her words, then makes a noise of acknowledgement. “You knew?”
“One of your followers told me.”
He nods slowly. Without knowing otherwise, it would look like he’s still processing. Nebula reaches up to his mask and removes it, slowly setting it on his lap. “There are other worlds out there that are in a similar situation as Avartin was with the old gods,” he continues talking. “If we can challenge them to a game—a fair one, with rules that apply to everyone equally—then we can both be satisfied. Don’t you think so?”
His irises are so dark they’re almost black, but Hegemonia can see specks of light reflected in them when she looks closely enough, like stars against a night sky. She thinks it fits him. “We?”
He nods. “When we enter a true alliance, I can grant you the power of a Constellation. You already more than meet the requirements to be one.”
“You’re talking as if I already agree.”
“I know you will. I know you too well to think otherwise.”
Nebula is, unfortunately, not wrong.
Out of spite, she rests her head on the back of her hand, propping it up with her arm. “And if I refuse,” she drawls, “what will you do?"
Nebula tilts his head at her, questioning. “I don’t need to think about that because I know you won’t. Don’t you miss having a competent ally?”
“I don’t need allies. You know that.”
He faintly smiles at her, but it is not a friendly one. “You’re too obsessed with me to give up on this opportunity, Hegemonia.”
“And you’re too obsessed with me to leave me alone, Nebula,” Hegemonia retorts back at him.
"Isn't it natural? Everyone else is gone." His voice drops down to a low murmur. "We're the only ones left."
Both stare at each other, refusing to give in.
"Are you taking the offer or not?” Nebula asks her again, but the cold smile reforms his question into a statement.
Hegemonia gives him an eye roll out of pettiness, but relents. “You already know the answer to that.”
Nebula’s smile transforms into a more expressive, genuine one. Even with his annoying personality, Hegemonia doesn’t find it as off-putting as she thought it would.
“Sanctuary,” Nebula calls out. “I grant Hegemonia the authority of a Constellation.”
A system window responds. It pops up in front of Hegemonia. The design is different from the old system, she notes.
[Player Hegemonia, you have been selected as a candidate for a Constellation. Would you like to accept?
Yes / No]
Hegemonia presses Yes.
[Please designate the Domain you will oversee as a Constellation.]
“Okay. Sanctuary, was it?” Hegemonia crosses her arms. “Listen carefully to what I'm saying. My Domain is War. Fighting. Competition. Battle—”
“Only one, Hegemonia,” Nebula interrupts her before she can list more.
“...Do you also have just one?”
Nebula nods.
“But you chose first, so make it fair and give me two.”
“That’s not how this works," he says, unimpressed.
[As long as causality allows, as a Constellation, you can continue to expand your abilities and gain more Domains.] The Sanctuary’s words take her attention again.
“Fine,” Hegemonia grumbles. “Got it. Then for now… let’s go with War.”
[You are choosing the same Domain as before, is that okay?]
“I’m sure. War means plundering, anyway. That makes it easier to obtain more Domains in the future.”
[...Understood, player Hegemonia.]
“It suits you the most,” Nebula comments.
"I know."
[Due to the current circumstances, it will take longer than usual to go through the process of becoming a Constellation.]
"Your body is damaged quite severely," Nebula adds. "You do know you almost died, right?"
What? "What?" Hegemonia repeats her thoughts out loud.
"You were supposed to die. You almost did," he says again. "But something went wrong, and you Fell instead."
If Nebula says something next, Hegemonia doesn't notice. Her thoughts are already running. Die? Her? With everyone else? Hell no; thinking about it already pisses her off. What's even worse is the fact that if whoever had done this actually succeeded, Hegemonia wouldn't even have had a chance to fight back. She would have been useless.
Hegemonia stews in her own thoughts, and the longer she does so the more irate she feels. However, she doesn't lash out. Contrary to her aggressive tendency, when she truly holds anger she becomes eerily silent.
Nebula must have noticed her behavior because he gets up from his chair, putting his mask away somewhere, and sits on the edge of the bed next to her. Hegemonia notices, but doesn't acknowledge it outright.
"Dollar for your thoughts?" He reaches out and pokes Hegemonia's forehead.
She blinks, caught off-guard, then grabs Nebula's wrist and moves his arm away. "Don't do that," she warns.
"You're thinking too loudly," he replies. "It's not good for you."
"I don't overthink."
"Right now, you are. You're going to turn into an old woman with the wrinkles you're going to get from frowning that much, you know? I had to step in."
Hegemonia moves to try to punch him, but Nebula blocks her fist before she makes contact. Even if Hegemonia were to be in peak condition, she can't beat Nebula, who has the status of a Constellation.
"You," she seethes, "are the most insufferable person I've ever met."
Nebula laughs, that asshole. "I'm so hurt."
Hegemonia pulls her hand away and releases her grip on Nebula's wrist.
He flexes his now freed hand. "You probably bruised it," he remarks off-handedly.
"Maybe I should bruise you more if it means you'll shut your mouth," she scoffs.
Before Hegemonia could incite more violence, the system window of the Sanctuary pops up.
[Player Hegemonia's authority as a Constellation: Execution complete.]
Hegemonia reads the message and hums in confirmation. "Good," she says. The headache she had when she woke up earlier was already fading away over time, but now it's completely gone. She turns and pushes herself off the bed, stretching her arms and testing her condition. No dizziness nor pain. Her head feels much clearer and the armor doesn't weigh her down as much anymore.
"Feel better now that you're not mortal?" Nebula asks her from the side.
"Very much," Hegemonia says, then turns around and proceeds to grab Nebula by the shoulders and push him back. She pins him down on the bed before he could react.
"What—" Nebula starts, but Hegemonia interrupts him before he can continue.
"Listen here," she starts. "Don't think that you can start ordering me around just because you're in charge of the new system. We may work together, but not on an unequal level. I take no orders from you."
"That's a given," Nebula affirms. "We are equal as Constellations. There will be no imbalance of power."
"One more thing." Hegemonia taps his throat with a clawed finger. "If I find that you go off to do something stupid in the future, I'm going to kill you myself. I won't let anyone else obtain that chance. You can only lose to me. Understand?"
Nebula meets her fiery gaze without flinching. "I'll make sure to drag you down with me if you do so," he replies. "It's just you and me now, Hegemonia. Together forever, until we die, swords drawn and cut at each other's throats."
"I'm glad we share the same sentiment." She smiles coldly.
Nebula reaches up to pull Hegemonia's gauntlet away from his neck. "What a sickening alliance we agreed on," he comments.
"You brought the idea up first."
"I know, but usually alliances don't involve threatening to kill the other party."
Hegemonia hums. "And if someone else does?"
Nebula blinks. He narrows his eyes after. "Hypotheticals are useless in this case."
Was that a nerve she just struck? "But it's not a hypothetical, is it?" she presses. "Like you said before: I almost died."
No response.
"Who's the culprit, by the way?" Hegemonia continues. "I have suspicions, but I want a name."
"…Aldin," Nebula eventually says. He looks disgusted for even saying the name out loud.
"Aldin?"
"Yes."
"Hm." Hegemonia doesn't know much about them, and that isn't a name she expected to hear. "Are they an old god?"
Nebula nods silently.
Hegemonia had assumed the Fall was attributed to the other old gods in the Sky Castles. She remembers killing most of them. There was a leader at the very top, however, and she thought the Fall was done by his orders. Maybe that was actually true, and Aldin was the one who carried out his dirty deeds.
"They won't be gone unpunished," Nebula speaks up again. "The other old gods should be dead by now thanks to Lakrak. Aldin will…" He hesitates for a split second before continuing. "Aldin will be put on trial."
Hegemonia rolls her eyes. "Why bother?"
"The real orders came from the leader of the old gods." Nebula confirms her thoughts from earlier. "Some want to see Aldin on trial anyway."
"Some as in who?"
"The other Constellations."
She sighs. "A waste of time. But it's their decision, I suppose."
"Can you let go of me now?" Nebula asks her. "This isn't a position I'd like to be in for a long period of time."
Hegemonia looks at him for a bit longer, then lets go of his shoulders and steps back. Nebula sits up from the edge of the bed.
"You said you created a Hall, right?" she asks him, reaching to take her horned helmet that was placed on the floor, next to the foot of the bed. "Take me there. It's too stuffy in this room."
"You're not going to challenge me to a match as soon as we get there, are you?"
"How would I even—" Hegemonia starts, mildly incredulous, then cuts herself off. Given they have free reign, she could technically challenge Nebula to a fight…
Hegemonia turns to face him. A grin slowly spreads across her face.
"Don't," Nebula warns.
"That's a great idea, actually."
"Is it too late to say I regret this alliance?"
"No take backs, Nebula. You're stuck with me now."