First Demonic Dragon

Chapter 1032: The Endwar?

“They’ve ignored us.”

“This does seem to be the case.”

“That does not surprise me.”

The siblings’ reunion was interrupted when they remembered they were not alone in the basement.

The fates were no longer as old and feeble as they were a moment ago. Actually, they hadn’t appeared elderly in about 3,000 years now.

All three resembled a set of blind Greek women in their early forties. Some would even say they were attractive.

Neither Clotho, Lachesis, nor Atropos looked the slightest bit different from one another. And at the moment, all of them looked equally displeased.

However, being in captivity tends to do that to an ancient goddess. Let alone a trinity.

“We expected your father to destroy the world to free us.”

“We have been proven wrong.”

“This does not bode well.”

If you weren’t focused on the fates’ lips, then it would be easy to think they were all speaking simultaneously. Their mouths moved perfectly in sync, but only one of them was actually projecting sound at a time.

“Glad to see our favorite weird sister cosplayers are alright.” Straga grinned.

The fates narrowed their eyes.

“Whether the past…”

“The present…”

“Or the future…”

“””We do not like you.”””

Straga blew the women a kiss, and they physically recoiled.

The three of them looked down at once to find little Gabbrielle staring up at them.

“I am pleased to see you all in good health. Please, forgive us for not being able to find you all sooner. Circumstances stood in our way.”

“…Cute.”

“Cute.”

“Very cute.”

Gabbrielle pretended she was unfazed by the praise. But secretly, her self-esteem rose considerably.

“My prince. What would you have us do with these…?”

One of the wraiths brought Straga the items that were hanging above the girls’ chains.

Straga picked them up to give them a quick once-over. Thrudd did the same.

The relics were incredibly warm to the touch. Almost like hot stones that a spa would use for a massage.

“These sigils look like something Odie drew.” Thrudd raised a brow. “I’m amazed they even work.”

Thea shook her head at her sister. “…They don’t. At least not in the way that they are intended to.”

“They’re holding a charge, sister. Your energy was indeed being stored inside of these things.”

“But they aren’t batteries. Holding power isn’t what they’re meant for.”

The children were all confused.

Gabbrielle took one of the totems and scanned it for herself.

As her sister had said, the sigils were drawn crudely. It was clear that a person with only a surface-level understanding of what they were doing had attempted it.

But Gabbrielle noticed something that her siblings hadn’t yet.

“…Is this scribble supposed to be Enochian?”

Thea nodded grimly. The fates hissed in displeasure.

“The boy was stupid.”

“He is stupid. He also has no talent.”

“His idiocy would have killed trillions before they knew what was happening.”

“””And what little remained of their souls would have gone to dwell within your father.”””

“Can you three stop doing that? It’s creeping me out.” Straga shivered.

“””No.”””

He flipped the fates off, but they paid him no mind.

“Why would the boy be trying to write something in Enochian?”

“And how did these little art projects manage to drain your powers anyway? Dad made it so that our powers couldn’t be taken before we were even K’ael’s age.” Thrudd reminded.

Thea sighed as she scratched the same side of her head. “I suppose the easier question first… The Virtue of Humility does make it so that our powers can’t be stolen, yes, that’s true…”

She took one of the idols from her siblings and held it up so that they could all see. It glowed with a faint purple hue.

As she spoke, the light slowly faded from the sigils and returned to her.

“If a person or an entity tries to absorb our powers, then Humility acts as a wall to prevent it. But my captor had a piece of concrete with Dad’s blood on it. I guess it’s sort of like a passcode to bypass a firewall.”

Silently, everyone wondered how Steven had come into contact with such an item. Or if he was ever really aware of what he had to begin with.

Gabbrielle for one wasn’t certain.

“As for the idols… How many of them do you see?”

“Spare us the math lesson, sister, no one feels like counting.”

“Humor me, please.”

Yemaja sighed. “Seven, why does that-”

“Holy shit…”

It seemed as always, Gabbrielle was the one to catch on to things first. Making Thea smile.

She looked down at the mound of clay in her hands with an expression of total bewilderment.

“That incorrigibly large ignoramus …! He tried to make replicas of the seven seals..!”

–

They are, without a doubt, the single most valuable item in any given multiverse.

The Seven Seals.

Ancient scrolls containing a power that will bring forth destructive change on the earth at the appointed time.

They are to be opened by God’s only mortal son, but when exactly that will happen is something not even the Fates are aware of.

When broken, each seal conjures forth specific phenomena to begin the process of terraforming the Earth for the EndWar.

The first seal beckons forth a less powerful incarnation of Conquest. Wielding his bow, he plants seeds of unrest and anger within the hearts of men.

The second seal calls forth War, the rider of the red horse. When he rides, the seeds of distrust and anger sown by Conquest are fully bloomed. Violence springs up rampantly without rhyme or reason.

The third beckons Pestilence. As his name would imply, he spreads sickness in the wake of his voyages. Those who fall ill are inevitably claimed when the fourth seal is broken and Death descends onto the world of man.

The Four Horsemen are only a precursor. With the opening of the fifth seal, the barrier between the living and the dead is eaten away.

The sixth ushers forth cosmic and planetary disarray. Stars plummet from the sky, earthquakes split the land, and the sun becomes as dark as night.

Though the undoing of the seventh seal is quite the phenomenon. The blaring of the horns is the marker for all the realms that the End War has already begun. And the divine factions march forth to declare battle grounds.

The location of the seals is known only to four, or now five people.

Yesh and Asherah entrusted Abaddon with the knowledge long ago, and when he married Ayaana and then Zahara, the knowledge was naturally shared with them.

There have been a few instances where someone has tried to seek out the seals for one nefarious plot or another. However, they’ve never once been found, even accidentally.

And thus, the keys to start the end war remain safe and secure.

But what if, for argument’s sake, someone endeavored to make their own keys? Crude, mangled versions that in no way resemble the originals.

Sure, it was a long shot, but what if you had just the right energy source to make it work?

The end war is a transformative experience for the world. Completely changing the course of many people’s lives all at once.

Would the energy and vitality of the very goddesses who monitor fate be enough to mimic the keys to such a transformative ritual?

Would that be insane, or would it be a stroke of magical genius?

With two million dollars in cash and nothing but time on his hands, Steven could find out the answer for himself without any real roadblocks in his way.

All of this had culminated in a very unlikely plan that by all accounts should not have worked.

Leading to this current situation, were the very same boy who had run away from home was still being protected by his grandmother.

She had yet to move ever since she had been stabbed. He could feel her trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he knew that he wasn’t much better.

The door to the basement was suddenly kicked open and a large man came barging back in.

His golden eyes focused on Steven, and he headed straight for him with a menacing glare.

For a moment, the human thought he was going to wet himself.

“Straga, wait!”

A voice came from behind the man and he froze in his tracks. He was maybe a foot away from Steven and his Grandmother.

Straga turned around with an inquisitive look in his eye that said he wasn’t thrilled.

The woman standing behind him was someone Steven knew all too well. The sight of her made his heart drop to the bottom of his shoes.

Baba Yaga had a similar reaction.

“Princess, we-”

“Are you bleeding..?”

Baba Yaga swallowed dryly and looked down at her foot.

“She was trying to run.” One of the soldiers spoke.

Thea pursed her lips. She noted the sword that was dripping with the woman’s blood.

“… Give me that.” She sighed and held out her hand.

The soldier didn’t hesitate.

He was surprised though when Thea suddenly chucked his sword over her shoulder like it was a wad of paper.

Thea kneeled in front of Baba Yaga with her guard down and her usual faint smile.

“Sorry about that… my father’s guys can be a little bit overzealous.”

Baba Yaga blinked and suddenly her foot was fine. She was no longer hurting and blood was no longer pooled onto the floor.

“I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, I’m just glad you’re not in any more pain.”

Thea rested her chin in the palm of her hand and stared at the old woman with a soft, but neutral gaze. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

And Baba Yaga was completely unsure what was about to happen to her and her grandson.

“Let’s sit and talk for a little bit, yes?”