CHAPTER 3: THE VIGIL OF THE BLACK GOD

***The Chamber of Time…***

“Welcome back to my humble abode, Your Majesty!” Time greeted her most esteemed heavenly guest the moment He appeared before her. “Please, take a seat!”

The High King of the Gods then went to a nearby empty chair, dusted it, and sat…but not before pulling out a small round table, and two cups of tea for Him and the lady.

“I’m always amazed whenever You do that,” the custodian of the timelines admitted. The High King, in return, just winked at her.

“Any case, You don’t need to have bothered,” Time said as she received the tea cup—full of piping hot earl grey, which was her favorite. “Also, I apologize for the seat; it’s never been used for quite a while, hence the light dust.”

“I’m always aware of how focused you are at your work,” the High King quipped with a smile, to reassure His embarrassed host. “Even before such events and conditions happened, I already know it.”

“Yes…indeed You are,” the lady’s voice drifted, as her eyes wandered to the set of spinning wheels she was attending to. Then, she remembered what she meant to do, “Oh, what brings you here, Milord?”

The High King of the Gods stared at Time, who was surprised at His gesture. The heavenly Ruler then took a sip of the tea and continued, “The Vigil of the Black God has begun, right? This is his chair I’m sitting upon.”

The custodian of the timelines nodded, before adding, “That’s why that seat is unused and has gathered dust.”

“It must’ve been hard for him,” the High King mused. “The longer the Black God delayed, the more powerful the Seductress grows.”

“Can’t You make him stop, and intervene Yourself, Your Majesty?” Time pointed out. “Of all the gods and goddesses in heaven, You are the only One that can put an end to menace that is the Seductress.”

The High King chuckled and brought out an aluminum cookie box from nowhere. Then, He offered some to the lady, which she accepted. While they were eating, the High King continued, “You know the legendary stubbornness of the Black God. He wants to end the Seductress with his own hands, so I’ve taken a lot of steps to ensure the other deities—who are also pushing for Me to make a move—won’t interfere with his plans.”

“But, won’t that risk the other worlds’ safety in case the Black God failed with his latest attempt?”

“Well, I admit the risk is dangerously high, that’s why I’m closely watching the events.”

“Still, You won’t make a pre-emptive move?”

The High King shook his head to confirm Time’s fears, much to her disbelief and consternation. Sensing that she wanted explanation, the heavenly Ruler elaborated, “The Black God sacrificed a lot to ensure he would be victorious this time. And in case you’re not aware, he personally pleaded to Me to give him more ‘freedom’ to deal with the Seductress. For the Black God, the struggle against that villain from the Void is personal; as Someone who understands him, I throw My wholehearted support to his cause.”

Silence. The lady of time could only sip her tea as the High King made His resolve known to her.

“And besides,” He added, “you’re getting yourself too involved in his affairs, Lady Time. Aren’t you letting your feelings control you?”

“I…” it was at that point that the custodian of the timelines realized her mistake. She utterly fell speechless upon her realization.

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A few moments later, Time broke the ice.

“I can only wish that the Black God avoids blaming himself to what happened to his world…”

The High King of the Gods only stared at her, then heaved a sigh. After that, he brought out a teapot and poured Himself another cupful of tea. He also offered to refill Time’s tea cup, but this time, she refused.

“Love is really powerful,” the High King muttered. “It makes us do the impossible.”

“You made it so,” Time countered.

“True. And that’s why we’re still here,” the heavenly Ruler reiterated. “It’s easy for Me to just destroy everything I created, to keep my creations from falling into the abyss, yet here am I, still hopeful…still loving what I created. And, as for the Black God, he can always give up the fight…it is not his struggle anymore. But here he is, sacrificing everything to defeat that villain for his loved ones.”

“Honestly? I don’t understand Your wisdom…nor does the mind of the Black God.”

“No one will…at least for a while. And then, when the right moment comes, all the answers you’re looking for will be addressed.”

“Yes, I know…I only have to trust in Your judgments, right?”

The High King nodded and smiled. He also revealed, “On the lighter side of things, the Black God’s throwing all his chances in this loop.”

“Well, that takes off a few weights off my chest,” Time smirked. “At least, he’s not charging blindly into battle this time.”

“He does learn from his mistakes,” the heavenly Ruler replied. “Still, we can’t truly know his chance to succeed for certain. After all, Kuro’s ‘free will’ is still there; while I can always take it away anytime, doing so would make me renege on my oath. Nevertheless, Kuro and the Black God have the same goals in mind…they can work out their differences from there.”

“Riiight…”

“Which brings me to the reason I’m here,” the High King added. “I did promise the Black God to help him defeat the Seductress with his own hands…one last time.”

“What do You mean, Milord?”

“You’re aware that the Black God has nothing else to offer you anymore?”

“I…am,” Time found it difficult to say those words. “That…That fellow sold everything he has to me, including his life and his very existence. That’s why, it pains me to see him every time he goes to his ‘vigil’. The Black God has nothing else in his mind but that monster from the Void.”

“That’s love.”

Time blushed, but countered, “Yes, I love the Black God…and I wish he will remain with me. However, I try to understand his reasons…I will support him.”

“That’s true love,” the High King corrected Himself. “With that, tell Me, Lady of Time, what is it that your heart seeks? What is the payment for this humble request I’m asking from you?”

“For You, Milord, my answer will always be ‘nothing’. And for the Black God, it will always be his success. I’ve taken away everything from him hoping that I can protect him. But, as they say, if one loves, then they should be prepared to let go.”

“Our wills aligned, Lady of Time!”

“Yes…”

At that moment, the face of the High King changed. While it was never terrible, Time knew that once He showed that expression, it meant that the heavenly Ruler was willing to gamble everything for His plans to succeed. She could feel her hair stand on its end, as the mixed feelings of awe and fear enveloped her body.

It is something that Time hasn’t seen for a long while, not since one of His chief angels rebelled against His authority, and took a third of His army in blatant defiance to heaven’s authority…

“The Black God knew the risks, but he wants to defeat the Seductress in this final push, once and for all,” the High King stressed. “So, for this end, he asked Me to request to you to lock him in Chersea’s timeline.”

“!!!” Time may have not noticed it, but her face went pale from the shock of the High King’s demand. As someone who had the authority over world histories, and the passing of every age, she knew that once a god bounded himself in a timeline, it meant that the god was forsaking his divinity and immortality for the sake of repeating the events in an eternal loop until he died.

And fighting against a creature such as the Seductress is a job a mortal can’t accomplish…

“…”

Which can only mean that the Black God is prepared to die to defeat her!

Sensing her apprehensions, the High King tapped her shoulders and said, “Trust the Black God in this.”

At that moment, tears fell from Time’s eyes as she realized she may not see the Black God ever again. Nevertheless, her love for him transcended all fears and worry that she had, so taking a deep breath, the custodian of timelines wiped her cheeks, and went to Chersea’s spinning wheel…

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***Somewhere in Cherwoods…***

When the Black God opened his eyes, the azure skies of Cherflammen—interrupted with occasional passing group of clouds—came into his view.

“…”

He tried to remember what happened, as he slowly felt his body for any injuries. Aside from a few broken ribs and pain on his right shoulder, the Black God concluded he was fine. Getting thrown with such force against the thick walls of the tree palace, and slamming down on the hard forest floor cushioned only by a few shrubberies after flying off to open air wasn’t a good experience. It was awful; it felt like his breath was sucked, or punched out of him, and he lost consciousness for a short while.

Well, such is the effect of having forsaken his immortality just so that he can embed himself on the timeline of this world…

“…”

Healing his injuries, the warrior deity tried to make out of his surroundings. The thick forest vegetation told him that he was still in the vicinity near the Saint’s Tree palace of Cherwoods. A few distance away from him was his sword, stuck upright on the ground. From his spot, he could hear some sounds of what seemed like a battle, raging from a distance. It was followed by the battle cries of warriors; as he had looped in this timeline for a few times now, the Black God knew exactly what was happening at that moment…

The ’undead’ armies of the Seductress are destroying yet another elf city.

“…”

The Black God stuck his hand up in the air, as if tracing from where the wind blew. Then, he looked at a piece of paper he took out from his tunic. According to what was written in there, the invasion of that human, the Lord Kuro of Arles, was still weeks away from taking place. The warrior deity had still enough time to galvanize the elvish communities to support that otherworlder.

“Heh,” the Black God couldn’t help but smirk. Though he knew the capabilities of the Lord Kuro of Arles, it was still not enough to defeat the Seductress, should she decide to come out of the throne room and deal with his army herself. Their recent fight was proof of his appraisal; Kuro and his army were only walking straight into that creature’s death trap, at the current state of things. The last loop had the human lord’s army decimated, close to annihilation…

Still, as someone whose goal was to defeat the Seductress, the Black God knew he had to help the otherworlder…or at least, guide him to the ‘right’ decisions. Either of them could distract or weaken that monster, before the other could—hopefully—deliver the blow to send her back to the dead world of Cherflammen.

After all, Gaius is with that human. That former god knows how to do it as well…having fought against her during his tenure as Chersea’s deity.

So, the Black God grabbed his sword, fixed his armor and coat, and prepared to teleport to the elf city he planned to execute his own plans. However…

“!!!”

The warrior deity’s attention fell on several individuals who surrounded him while he recovered. He could feel the killing intent from them, but he knew they meant no harm, for as long as he properly identified himself. So, the Black God opted not to draw his sword, even as he was in their weapons’ sights.

“I’d lower those bows and arrows if I were you,” he told them. “You’re pointing it at the wrong person.”

“We demand that you remove your hood and mask, and identify yourself!” the leader of the armed group stepped out of his hiding spot, and confronted the warrior deity. “Are you a friend or a foe?”

“Depends on how you’d treat me,” the Black God answered, never complying to the demands though he raised his hands to show he’s harmless. “But, before you decide whether to shoot me, let me tell you I have the same goals as you, and I know why you’re here. Isn’t it that you and your elves are escaping from your kin sent by the one who ruled at the Saint’s Tree, after trying to kill you, Lord Ingwer of Dorian?”

“Wha—how did you—” the leader of the armed elf band, the Lord Ingwer of Dorian, exclaimed. He couldn’t believe that his name was said by a stranger just now.

“Let’s say I’m an existence a mortal like you can’t fathom,” the warrior god replied. “That’s why, depending on how you give me respect, I might treat you and your forces, my friends, or my enemies.”

The elf lord fell silent for a while, debating in his mind whether to trust the Black God. Then, he asked, “You are clearly not an elf, nor a saint! What are you doing here? How can you read my mind?”

“If I’m planning to kill and feed on your lives like those monsters you encountered, I won’t waste my time talking to you. After all, food should be eaten, not to converse with.”

“!!!” the Lord Ingwer’s hand quickly went for an arrow in his quiver.

However, the Black God laughed and reassured him, “No worries, Lord Ingwer, and the remnant of Dorian. I am your ally, and though I’m joking about food, my arguments remain true. I mean no harm to your group, and I don’t even eat the spirits of mortals. But, do understand that all persons have their secrets; won’t you agree with me?”

The elf nodded, though his hand never let go of his weapon. He kept on his aim at the warrior god’s head, even as his arms were getting tired. Better be safe than be sorry, after all.

The Black God, however, ignored his gesture. “Here’s my deal,” he offered to the elves, “if you follow my words, I can protect you, and what remains of your army, and the rest of your kin that followed you here. I don’t think you have that much of a choice here, isn’t it?”

The Lord Ingwer, and his warriors exchanged confused stares. However, as they’ve encountered different horrors on their way there, any help—even from suspicious strangers in the middle of a hostile forest—was appreciated. At once, the elf lord gestured for his army to lower their weapons, and when they did that, the other elves—the civilians who came with them—stood up from their hiding spots.

“They’re from the nearby settlements,” the Dorian lord explained when the Black God looked on the children. “The armies of that accursed human back in the Saint’s Tree is going on a rampage, destroying everything in their paths, and putting to sword everyone they grabbed from the streets. Not even the young ones were spared. We tried reasoning with them, but they killed even our envoys.”

“You’re just wasting your time,” the deity said as he strapped his sword behind him. “Those are not your kin anymore, in the living sense. The army that attacked you are just walking husks, controlled by that monster sitting on the throne at the Saint’s Tree.”

“You mean a witch?”

“Even worse than a witch. You’re lucky to escape them; their purpose is just to kill and make everyone suffer.”

“But…why? We are willing to negotiate with them, whatever it is they wanted!”

The Black God replied with a long stare. Then, the deity gave the nearest child a head pat, which caused the tensions to fall even lower. “You’ll understand soon; your goal for now is to leave this place as quick as possible. Where are you heading?”

“We’ll try to reach the nearest elf city before the long sleep, or we’ll have to stop to let the ladies and children rest.”

“No, don’t do it,” gaining their trust, the Black God was quick to suggest an alternative option. “Send a few messengers to the nearest elf city. Tell them to leave their homes for a while and join you. If they ask why, just narrate your experiences with the army from the Saint’s Tree. Don’t take long; those monsters are looking for someone to slay. If they don’t believe you, leave them to their fates.

At once, the Lord Ingwer ordered his captains to follow the warrior deity’s advice. Nevertheless, he asked, “But sir, you say we shouldn’t head to the nearest elf city from here. Where shall we go then?”

The Black God pointed to the east. “The city of Berondin further east is the nearest safe place in this hell right now. Tell this to all the nearby cities who wished to survive this ordeal.”

The elves who heard the warrior deity’s words turned pale. This was because, in all their lore and history, there was one city that their forebears had told them to avoid…and that was Berondin. However, the Black God told them…

“You have two choices: die the most painful death in this forest, or run to those people for help? Looking into your hearts, I think the answer to my question is pretty easy.”

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***The village of New Elebor, Duchy of Maverny, a week later…***

The idyllic settlement of elves, nestling at the edges of the territory of the Duke of Maverny to its southern borders, was now bisected by a main road made of cobblestones and connected to the ‘main highway’ of the fief. Aside from those, the village was further attached to the duchy capital city of Maverny thru a network of railroads, one of its stations was built just outside its limits. Human ideas, beastmen inventions, and demon products flooded into the place, bringing the lives of every elf up several notches.

With the relative prosperity of New Elebor came the happiness of its population. With their happiness was the feeling of contentment. And, several months into the bliss, came the boredom.

Compared to the elvish cities in their native land of Cherwoods, the Chersean elves—those whose parents or grandparents were immigrants—were relatively young in demographics. As with every young person, most of them were filled with a natural desire to explore the worlds around them. This sentiment showed through those mercenary companies raised in Chersea—many of its recent members were elves in the prime of their lives, seeking fame and gold for themselves. And those former mercenaries would return to their families to tell the tale of their companies’ exploits, and their personal stories, stoking their younger siblings’ and/or their friends’ imagination and desire for an adventure even more.

And one of those elves who were influenced by their mercenary peers was Glamden.

Born as the sixth child in his household, Glamden’s source of heroic stories was his older sister, Ninidel, a former archer/gunner that served in a company named ‘Band of the Oak’. Those mercenaries were famous in that village, having proved their worth and mettle fighting against the vaunted imperial legionnaires, and the undead during the ‘Great Rising’. It was commanded by another Elebor half-elf, Gryffith, who fought alongside the now ‘Duke of Maverny’, Lord Kuro of Arles.

And as the brother of a famed mercenary, Glamden could feel the pressure from his peers to prove himself, just like the others of his age. However, his plans to join a mercenary company were met with disapproval from his parents—Ninidel only got away with it because she ran away from home before. This time, it won’t happen again, and Glamden was about to accept his boring fate in the safety of his family and the village.

But then…

“The Lady Hinwe’s rightful throne was snatched from her! We, as her people and ardent supporters of the Holy Maiden, should not let this pass! Join the elvish expedition army and gain the blessings of heaven for this righteous endeavor!”

“Those arrogant elves in Cherwoods have long looked down on us and our forebears for leaving that place! Now, we’ll save them from those blasphemers who dared raise their arms against Her Holiness!”

“Fight for the Holy Maiden! The heavens’ will be done!”

With the newfound zeal the Chersean elves found in their saint, the recruitment for an ‘Elvish Expeditionary Force’ was in full swing. Hundreds—if not thousands—of elves turned up in recruitment offices, set up in all Chersean major cities, just to enlist. The sheer number of potential recruits was also aided by the information that this army was to be led by the legendary Duke of Maverny, who was the living hero of Chersea, Cherwind and the Demon Republic. Such was the elves who wanted to fight that it was eventually decided to have ‘recruitment officers’ dispatched to every town and village, in addition to those already in the cities.

As someone looking for adventure, Glamden won’t be fazed by his parents’ decision. He would go to an adventure of his own, even if he had to run from home like his sister did…

“What are you standing there for, Glamden?” a childhood friend of his, another elf named Behrien, asked. “Don’t tell me your legs are now shaky?”

“Why would you accuse me of that?” he retorted. “Have you forgotten that bravery runs in our family?”

“Well, Lady Ninidel is certainly brave,” Behrien chuckled. “As for you? I’m not sure.” The elf then turned to their other companions, making sure that they heard him. They never hid their amused faces from Glamden.

Offended by Behrien’s words, the young elf angrily stepped off the line, and headed straight to the enlistment table, where an elvish officer—another mercenary veteran significantly older than his sister—was screening the applicants. His childhood friends watched him as the Glamden presented himself before the recruiter.

“There is a line,” the officer said without even looking at him. “Don’t skip it, okay?”

“Sir, I’m afraid if I’m to go back to my queue, I won’t be given a chance to enlist!”

The veteran stopped at whatever he was doing and stared at Glamden. “Who are you?” he asked, sizing up the little elf. “Judging from your height, you’re not even qualified to carry a demon weapon!”

“Sir, I want to fight for Her Holiness, the Lady Hinwe!” was Glamden’s proud declaration, showing him a sword that he took from his sister’s chest.

The mercenary, however, remained unimpressed. “Yeah, I understand. Look, everyone in this line wants to do the same, that’s why there are long lines. But tell me, umm…”

“Glamden…sir.”

“Err, tell me, Glamden, what’s your experience in war?”

“Sir?” the young elf was taken aback. He didn’t expect those questions, as he thought they wanted to accept everyone.

“Do you have any experience in fighting?” the veteran reiterated.

“I-I fought wolves when they tried to eat my family’s cows!”

“And?”

“T-That’s it, sir.”

“You think that a war’s about beating up some wolves and be done with it?”

“Err…”

“Sorry kid, we can only accept those who have real fighting experience,” the veteran smiled, trying to console him. “Glamden, I know you’re brave, but wars can’t be won by bravery alone. Sometimes, it even leads to defeat, as some fellows—trying to prove their courage—would charge into the enemy thinking they can slay like the heroes of old…only to die in their foolishness.”

“But s-sir…”

The veteran shook his head, and that was enough for Glamden to understand. With his head downcast, the young elf turned his back and walked away from the recruitment office.

“Oi! Did you prove your bravery to that old guy?” he heard Behrien call out to him, but Glamden ignored his friend. His footsteps were heavy, but he had no other choice but to head home.