"We are of an ancient race, young one. The only five of our name, and with your ascension, you are now one of us.
You must have noticed it during your battle, but you are henceforth unkillable. Mortal wounds cannot harm you, old age will not take you.
Even if you are cut into the tiniest pieces and scattered to the far corners of this world, you will rebuild yourself from the smallest atom and rise again.
You need neither air, nor food, nor water. Though I wouldn't be surprised if your body still echoes with those needs. You are free to indulge in them if you wish, but it is only an illusion."
Solomon thought back to the fight where he was taken over.
When Zadkiel cut him in half, he regenerated his legs within a second.
He faced swordsmen and martial artists far better than himself, and he made them too sick to stand. It almost seemed like some kind of twisted dream.
Hazy-eyed, Solomon brought a hand to his chest.
"This power... what is-"
"You're better off forgetting about the use of Apocalyptic Force for now." The Alchemist warned. "You may not be able to die, but if you burden your body so terribly that it can no longer keep it's shape, then you'll wish you were dead."
"What...?"
"She's saying that if you try to use your powers, you'll turn into something that must be mopped up." Kinslayer explained. "Your body isn't strong enough to bear the burden. If you tried to use it again, you would surely break down, cell by cell."
"There are ways to get you where you need to be rather quickly though, don't you worry." The Redeemer said kindly. "You're about 1,000 years earlier than we thought... but that is of no consequence."
Solomon blinked sleepily. "Don't want it... take it back."
There was silence as the deathless glanced amongst each other , either from confusion or shock.
"...I'm afraid that is impossible, even for us. The Yaksha has made it's choice. We cannot overturn it's decision, or contest it. You are High Lord of the House of Ares. You are our great Disaster."
Solomon looked up at the five beings in armor.
His eyes had lost their luster and their clarity.
It was as if he was living in a fog with no understanding of how he'd gotten there, or the way to get out.
"I don't want any part of this... let me out of here."
The Alchemist stood up from her seat. "You disrespectful, diseased little-"
"Alright." Redeemer said quietly.
He appeared in front of Solomon and held out a medium sized burlap sack.
"Here. Some things for the road. Your journey should be as comfortable as possible after all."
Solomon slowly lifted his gaze from the sack to the Redeemer's burning head.
"You need not fear me, Disaster. I am not now, and will never be, your adversary. We are all friends and family here. Your wants are no less important than my own."
"...Solomon. My name is Solomon."
The young man reached out and took the sack. Though he didn't understand why he had done it at the time.
"Solomon then." Redeemer mused. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
Solomon felt a warmth at his back.
He turned to find a swirling hole in the air, waiting for him silently.
Solomon had heard tell of portals before, but he had never seen them. They were usually something reserved for larger cities due to how insanely expensive it was to create them.
And yet, this being had somehow fashioned one out of thin air. Solomon would have been baffled if his mind weren't barely functional at the moment.
He didn't really care where the opening went. It wasn't as if he had a home anymore anyway.
"Should you wish to return and engage us in conversation again, you need only call upon Griever. No matter where you are, he can find you and bring you home." Redeemer said warmly.
Solomon barely registered anything that was said. He was already stepping through the portal.
"...Take care." He murmured.
When the portal shut, the room was bathed in quiet for less than three seconds before Gorgon protested.
"I don't mean to question your vision, Redeemer, but why would you simply let that young man go without a fight? We need him on board if our dreams are ever going to be realized."
The Redeemer's feet levitated off the ground.
His body drifted through the air as he returned back to his seat. The way he lounged in his throne was reminiscent of a lion taking the time to bask in the sun.
"You all have too little trust in fate. She spins a wheel that none of us can hope to question. Our fates are already linked together, that is the truth of it.
Young Solomon had a traumatic awakening. He will require time to heal the cracks on his soul. I have faith that he'll come around, when he's ready."
Sitting quietly to himself, Kinslayer was absentmindedly scratching his stomach as he stared into the ceiling.
'Solomon... Solomon... Why do I know that name..?'