For a while, no-one moved.
Every God paid their final respect to a formidable foe, as they looked over Soron’s fallen form with complicated emotions rising in their hearts, the battlefield suspended in a silence so dense that even the drifting ash seemed reluctant to fall.
Soron lay where he had collapsed, one knee pressed into fractured stone, one hand slack near the Grudgekeeper Dagger embedded beside him, his face disturbingly calm, while the faint curve of a smile still lingered at the corners of his lips as though death itself had failed to strip him of his defiance.
Ru Vassa was the first to avert her gaze.
Her arm lowered slowly, fingers tightening into a knuckle as relief washed through her in a delayed, trembling wave, the kind that left her weak rather than triumphant, as though a terrible weight had finally been lifted only for the emptiness beneath it to be revealed.
Soron was gone.
The nightmare had ended.
And yet, beneath that relief, a crawling unease took root in her chest, because Soron had fallen alone, while Kaelith was still alive.
’The universe always needs a villain to rally around.
With Soron gone, who will take up that role next?’
Ru Vassa wondered, as she uneasily hoped that it wasn’t herself or her clan, a quiet dread settling deeper in her chest as her eyes finally lowered.
Lu Han did not look away.
His sword tip rested against the ground as he stared down at Soron’s body, eyes narrowed not in hatred, but in disbelief, as though part of him still expected the Cult Master to rise again, to laugh, to brush the dust from his robes, and remind them all that men like Soron did not simply end.
’You were the best warrior I had the honor of crossing blades with.
Perhaps if this were another life, we could have been friends.’
Lu Han thought, as he let out a deep, measured sigh, his eyes still wide with disbelief, as he struggled to process the death of a God, even if he was an enemy.
*Glance*
*Shuffle*
For a while, nobody said anything, until suddenly, Mauriss moved.
*BURST*
Bursting forward with sudden, irreverent speed, Mauriss slipped cleanly between Kaelith and Soron’s corpse, his motion so smooth it was as though space itself parted willingly for him, his laughter bubbling up bright and inappropriate against the gravity of the moment.
"Ah—ah—ah," Mauriss chuckled almost fondly, as he brushed past Kaelith’s side without sparing him so much as a glance, his attention locked onto a single object with predatory intensity.
The Grudgekeeper Dagger.
*Clench*
His hand closed around the hilt with unmistakable hunger, fingers tightening as though afraid it might vanish if he hesitated even for a breath, the origin metal humming faintly as it accepted his grip, its weight settling into his palm like a long-awaited prize.
*Slide*
"I did it.... It’s mine"
He declared as he emerged on the other side, his expression one of glee as he lifted the dagger, admiration shining openly in his eyes as he turned the blade to catch the light, inspecting it as one might a relic torn straight from legend.
"My, my, what a marvelous thing to leave behind."
He said, his voice thick with mockery, as all around him, chaos began to unfold.
The moment Mauriss lifted the Grudgekeeper Dagger into clear view, the unease that had been simmering beneath the surface snapped violently into motion, as every God present instinctively understood the same truth at once, that an Origin Metal weapon, especially one as formidable as the Grudgekeeper, was not something that could be allowed to rest in the hands of a psychopath like Mauriss.
Ru Vassa felt it first, a sharp tightening in her chest as her gaze locked onto the dagger, her relief from moments earlier evaporating into cold dread, because whatever balance Soron’s death had restored was now threatening to collapse all over again.
"That blade..." she muttered under her breath, fingers twitching unconsciously as divine essence began to gather at her palm. "He cannot be allowed to keep that."
Lu Han’s grip tightened around his sword as well, his instincts screaming just as loudly, because a God-killing treasure did not merely represent power, it represented leverage, fear, and the ability to rewrite hierarchies that had stood for millennia.
And if the Great Clans were to ever rewrite the dynamics of universal power, it was absolutely crucial that they secured themselves one.
Kaelith turned sharply, eyes narrowing as he finally registered what Mauriss had taken, his jaw tightening with barely restrained fury, because that dagger had never been meant for the Deceiver, and Mauriss stealing it so blatantly made him mad.
"Mauriss," Kaelith said coldly, his voice carrying a warning edge. "Put it down."
He warned, as Mauriss only laughed in response.
The sound was light, almost playful, as though they were children arguing over a toy rather than Gods staring down the barrel of a future catastrophe, as he casually shifted the dagger in his grip and stepped back half a pace, already reading their intentions with effortless clarity.
"Oh come now," he replied cheerfully. "Don’t look at me like that. He’s dead. I merely picked up what was left behind."
He justified, as at that moment, everyone lunged at him at once.
Yu Kiro moved first, spear flashing as he lunged in with a swift, precise strike meant not to kill, but to disarm, his attack honed by centuries of battlefield instinct, yet Mauriss was already gone before the spear could even graze him, slipping aside with a fluidity that felt deceitful.
*WHOOSH*
Ru Vassa followed immediately, layered sigils snapping into existence as she tried to bind Mauriss in place, threads of magic converging to lock his limbs and sever his movement, only for him to twist mid-step and let the spells pass through the space where he had been standing a heartbeat earlier.
Lu Han joined the fray, sword flashing in a controlled arc meant to knock the dagger free, while Du Trask, ignoring the agony in his ruined arm, forced himself forward to add weight and pressure, their combined assault converging on Mauriss from three angles at once.
*CLANG*
*SNAP*
*BURST*
And still, they failed.
Mauriss danced through them like a shadow with intent, his movements sharp, economical, infuriatingly precise, as he used the chaos of their overlapping attacks against them, letting one strike disrupt another, stepping into blind spots that should not have existed, laughing all the while as though this was the most entertaining game he had played in centuries.
"Careful now," he chided lightly, parrying Lu Han’s blade with the flat of the dagger’s hilt, the origin metal ringing out with a sound that made every God flinch. "You’ll hurt yourselves."
Kaelith snarled and closed in personally, twin daggers flashing as he aimed to overwhelm Mauriss through sheer proximity, their blades colliding in a rapid, violent exchange that sent sparks and fragments of distorted space flying outward, yet even then, Mauriss never loosened his grip.
No matter how they struck, how they pressed, how desperately they tried to pry the dagger from his hand, it remained there, locked into his grasp as though it had chosen him in that moment, humming faintly with a resonance that made the air feel thin.
As slowly, the dreadful realization finally settled in.
They could not take it from him.
Not quickly.
Not cleanly.
And certainly not without consequences.
As Mauriss finally disengaged and took a few leisurely steps back, spinning the Grudgekeeper Dagger once before settling it comfortably at his side, his grin widened, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in their frustration.
"Oh my," he said softly, almost reverently.
"You all look so worried... just as you most definitely should be."
He teased, as he stored the dagger away in his storage ring, and stood as though the matter was already concluded.