The air distorted and shimmered as eight figures emerged in synchronized formation. They wore crimson armor that shimmered with Divine Rnergy. Their helmets were faceless, undisturbed by light or shadow.
Anamorsia's gaze flicked across them and then to the one in the center, who was noticeably taller, with an insignia glowing faintly on the breastplate, carved in an ancient language lost even to most Divines.
"You really sent the Last Phalanx to retrieve a single man?"
She raised a hand and pointed at each one without hesitation.
"Second Enlightenment. Second. Second. Fifth. Second. Fifth. Second. And you—Sixth Enlightenment, aren't you?"
They said nothing. The taller figure, a woman from her build and gait, stepped forward. Her voice was filtered through her helmet.
"You killed one of our archers. Do you deny it?"
Anamorsia's reply came as a wry breath.
"No, she's not dead. If I had killed a god's child, the entire pantheon would already be screaming. I don't want a war with your gods. Not yet, anyway."
A stunned silence fell over them. One of the Fifth Enlightenment Divines twitched, but didn't speak. The leader tilted her head, as if genuinely caught off guard.
"And yet..."
The woman began but Anamorsia was already moving. With one hand, she dragged Caelom. He landed at their feet with a grown.
"You want him? Take him."
The leader stiffened. "You're just giving him back?"
"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not doing this out of mercy. I'm doing this to keep your gods quiet. Because if I kill one of their prized champions, chaos will follow. And I don't want chaos. Not now."
"And what do you want, then?"
Anamorsia finally looked at her seriously.
"I want the Mopheria gods out of Spheraphase for seven years. Stay out of this plane. I don't care what your missions are. You can keep your temples and your relics. Just. Stay. Out."
The woman laughed. A cold, mocking laugh reverberated from inside her helmet.
"You think we take orders from mortals? We follow only the Deities of Mopheria."
Anamorsia didn't laugh. Her face stayed flat.
"Then you're in luck. So I'm giving you one last chance. Leave this plane for seven years. That's the offer. If you refuse..."
The Divine woman raised her chin.
"I'd rather die."
Anamorsia sighed. There was no anger in it. Only disappointment. She brought her hands together and clapped once. No sound followed. Every Divine, no matter the Enlightenment level, felt their hearts lurch with fear.
The first thing they saw was a crimson ocean that didn't move. Not a single ripple disturbed its endless surface and yet it wasn't peaceful.
Above them, where a sun should have been, there was only a solar eclipse. It never shifted or moved. In the middle of that endless sea, the Last Phalanx screamed but their voices made no sound.
Each of them had been cruelly and firmly tied at a stake. Golden chains spiraled up their limbs and across their torsos, digging into their armor and skin. The stakes were molten red, seared into the very ocean as if it were solid. It locked them in an upright position like sacrifices waiting for judgment. Their faces were still covered by their helmets, but that was the only piece untouched. The rest was being stripped not by blades by hands that rose from the crimson sea like spirits dragged from the deepest nightmares.
Pale, veined, long-fingered hands, thousands of them, dozens on each Divine, touched them everywhere. They moved in perfect synchrony. The first hand grazed the chestplate of one of the Second Enlightenment Divines. He flinched.
The next hand tore.
The metal didn't scream, it simply snapped inwards and twisted like paper. One by one, more hands surged, digging, scratching, clawing and tearing through their divine armor. And when the armor gave way, the hands dug into the flesh beneath. They didn't stab. They scratched.
The woman in charge, still bound by her wrists in radiant chains, tried to shout orders but her voice never echoed. Her fingers trembled as she tried to summon her Divinity, but the chains burned whenever her will stirred. Her body convulsed as fingers crawled under her pauldrons and up her sides, dragging nails along her ribs and leaving bloody trails where her skin tore open.
Then, one of the hands curled around her neck. It didn't squeeze at first. It just held. Then another. Then three. Then five.
Suddenly, her head was yanked upward. Her neck was stretched. She gasped but no breath came. Her helmet clanked back against the stake as the invisible force dragged her throat skyward and for a split second, she was certain her spine would snap.
Across the ocean, her comrades were suffering the same fate.
One Divine, a Sixth Enlightenment one like her, was whimpering now. His armor had been reduced to shreds. His body covered in lacerations as every inch of divine flesh was painted red. The hands didn't stop. They never stopped. They moved in a choreographed torment. One set was choking, the other peeling, the next carving was symbols into their skin that burned.
And still, no sound came from them. The woman's eyes, wide with pain and horror, looked forward.
Anamorsia was standing barefoot on the ocean surface like it was a floor. A short, sleeveless robe fluttered lightly around her knees, the only thing in this entire world that seemed to obey any laws of reality. And she was holding a lollipop. She twirled it in her mouth with her tongue, then popped it out with a smile.
"Hi there. Do you have time for negotiations?"
The woman choked. Finally, her voice clawed its way out of her throat.
"Wh... what are you?"
Anamorsia cocked her head.
"I'm the one who asked nicely."
More hands rose. One of the Divines started thrashing in his chains. His helmet began cracking from the pressure of the invisible grip. Another's arms were being bent in opposite directions by two sets of arms. The sound of tendons ripping finally echoed.
The woman screamed. The hands choked her throat tighter. Anamorsia walked up to her. She stood mere inches from her. She whispered, gently placing a hand on the woman's chin.
"You thought I was bluffing? You thought a Third Generation Divine like me, who never crawled for a pantheon, never begged a god for affection, never kissed a goddess's feet, was going to just let you go if you spat in my face?"
The woman coughed. "Please…"
Anamorsia popped the lollipop back in her mouth, sucked it once, then pulled it out and pressed it to the Divine's cheek.
"You don't have to die, you know. You just have to listen."
The crimson hands started laughing as mouths appeared on their palms. They just trembled like giggling children holding back joy. The blood on the Divines began to glow. One of the Fifth Enlightenment Divines started foaming at the mouth.
"You win..."
Anamorsia smiled wider.
"Oh. Now we're talking."
She turned, skipping across the ocean with her bare feet, giggling as she twirled the lollipop back in her fingers like a wand. She clapped her hands once and the hands froze.
"I want a clean Spheraphase. No Third Generation pantheon troops from above. No agents, no heralds and no spies for seven years."
The woman nodded quickly, tears leaking under her helmet.
"If I smell one feather of divine meddling, I will make a new ocean entirely created by your blood and bones. You are too weak. Come back when you're stronger."