CHAPTER 25: "SEVERANCE" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

By William Warner

CHAPTER 25: "SEVERANCE" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"

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Serenity and Beelzebub trudged through the wheat field, the air still thick with the residual haze from the explosion that had consumed Maladrie’s fortress. The orange hue of the sky shimmered faintly above them, filtered through clouds of dust and drifting ash. Between them, Haj Tooth’s weight pressed heavy, her armor slick with dark, coagulated blood that shimmered like oil in the dim light. Each step was labored, her breaths uneven and shallow.

Ahead, the Shark People’s Hive Fleet loomed like a wall of metal and bone—hundreds of living ships resting silently above the wheat fields. Their hulls pulsed faintly, as though alive, their bio-mechanical forms breathing in unison. Despite the chaos that had erupted only hours earlier, the fleet stood untouched—guarding the entrance to the cave nestled beneath the largest of the petrified roots.

“Let’s get her inside,” said Beelzebub, his tone firm yet tinged with urgency.

Together, the two carried Haj Tooth down the slope leading into the cave. As they crossed the threshold, the harsh orange light of the surface gave way to an ethereal glow. Bioluminescent flora clung to the walls like veins of living sapphire, casting the subterranean chamber in a ghostly blue-green light. The air was warm and moist, filled with the hum of life—a stark contrast to the death and ruin outside.

The deeper they went, the more vibrant the scene became. The interior of the cavern opened into a subterranean garden that stretched for hundreds of meters. Alien flowers bloomed from stone, their petals shaped like crystalline fans. Water trickled through translucent vines, collecting into clear pools surrounded by smooth stones. Wasp humanoids—Beelzebub’s kin—moved methodically among the flora, tending to the plants with reverence and guarding the chamber’s sacred calm.

But that calm fractured as soon as they saw Haj Tooth.

The Shark warriors who had accompanied Serenity before—the same ones loyal to Haj Tooth—stood from their stations in alarm. Their eyes, normally glowing with tranquil bio-luminescence, flared bright with concern. One of them let out a guttural growl that echoed softly through the cavern. The hive murmured in anxious tones as Serenity and Beelzebub carried their wounded leader toward the back of the cave.

At the heart of the chamber stood a flat stone table—ancient and smoothed by time. Serenity recognized it immediately. It was the same place where Beelzebub had once healed me. The memory felt haunting now.

They laid Haj Tooth gently upon the cold surface. Her breathing was faint, her gills fluttering weakly against her neck as blood trickled down into the creases of her armor. Serenity powered down her armor, and decided to power down Haj Tooth’s as well. Obviously it was necessary for this medical procedure. Beelzebub immediately went to work, his many hands moving with frantic precision. He rummaged through rows of glass jars filled with strange glowing liquids and powders—an alien apothecary assembled from the Hive’s centuries of collected medicine.

He found a jar filled with shimmering green paste, popped the lid, and began applying it to the open wounds along Haj Tooth’s torso and neck. The substance hissed faintly as it made contact with her skin.

Serenity leaned closer, frowning. The blood didn’t stop. It seeped through the paste in small rivers, glistening black under the chamber’s dim light.

“I don’t think this is working! We need to stop the bleeding and sew her up!” she said, her voice tight with worry.

Beelzebub didn’t hesitate. “The paste is a disinfectant, but I agree!”

He tossed her a packet of sterile stitching cords, and together they worked quickly. Serenity pressed a glowing medical clamp to the wound to stem the bleeding while Beelzebub threaded a surgical needle crafted from crystalline resin. Their hands worked in harmony—Serenity cleaning and closing wounds while Beelzebub sealed each stitch with a flash of bioplasmic resin.

Minutes passed in tense silence except for Haj Tooth’s weak gasps and the faint hum of the wasp guardians watching nearby.

Finally, when the last wound was closed, Serenity brushed a strand of damp hair from Haj Tooth’s face. She noticed then how hot the shark warrior’s skin had become. When she laid her palm against Haj Tooth’s hammerhead crown, it was scorching.

“She needs something for her fever—like an antibiotic,” Serenity said, looking up.

Beelzebub rummaged through a row of canisters before handing her a small metallic pill. “This should work. It’s synthesized from our Hive nectar—stronger than anything humans make.”

Serenity nodded, kneeling beside Haj Tooth. The Shark Queen’s breathing was shallow, her eyelids half open, consciousness flickering like a dying flame. Her anatomy, while alien, mirrored human structure enough that Serenity could understand what to do. She cupped Haj Tooth’s lower jaw, tilting her head slightly back.

“Come on, stay with me,” Serenity whispered. She placed the pill into Haj Tooth’s mouth, then lifted a small vial of purified water to her lips. Gently, she helped her swallow.

Haj Tooth coughed once, but the pill went down. A few moments later, her breathing began to steady—still weak, but consistent.

Serenity let out a slow breath of relief. She reached for a nearby cushion made of woven seaweed fiber and slipped it beneath Haj Tooth’s head, adjusting her so she could rest comfortably.

Beelzebub stepped closer, his wings folding against his back as he observed their patient. His compound eyes flickered in shifting colors of concern and thought.

“She’ll live,” he said softly, though his tone carried the weight of uncertainty. “But she needs rest. Deep rest.”

Serenity nodded, brushing her fingers across Haj Tooth’s scaled hand. “Then we’ll let her rest.”

Beelzebub placed a hand on Serenity’s shoulder, his expression grave but steady. “You did well. Both of you did.”

Serenity took a deep breath, glancing toward the cave’s entrance where the light of the wheat field glowed faintly beyond the vines. The war still lingered outside, and yet, in this hidden sanctuary, there was an uneasy stillness.

“I’m going to go and send a message to William,” she said finally, her voice quiet but resolute. “To fill him in on what’s happening.”

Beelzebub nodded once. “I’ll stay here. I’ll watch over her.”

Serenity lingered for a moment, her gaze fixed on Haj Tooth’s resting form, the leader who had risked everything to destroy Maladrie’s abominations. Then she turned toward the mouth of the cavern, her armor glinting faintly as she disappeared into the glow beyond—leaving Beelzebub and the quiet hum of the subterranean hive to guard the fallen queen.

Outside the cavern, the air shimmered faintly under the artificial orange sky of the Wraith. The massive silhouette of the Shark People’s flagship, the Nautilus Ascended, loomed like a sleeping beast among the windswept fields of golden wheat. Its plated hull still dripped with oceanic condensation, the scent of brine mixing with the Wraith’s metallic air. The fields bowed gently against the distant hum of its engines, which pulsed like the heartbeat of a giant. Serenity ascended the ramp leading into the ship’s main access bay—her boots echoing against the metallic floor as the interior lights flickered to life, responding to her biosignature.

Inside, the corridors were sleek and cold, a blend of alien architecture and Biomechanical engineering. Thin veins of green light pulsed through the walls like arteries, carrying energy from the ship’s living core. She moved through the vessel’s labyrinth of metallic passages until she reached the communications bridge, a circular chamber filled with holographic orbs, scanners, and quantum relays. The transparent viewport displayed a haunting panorama of the wheat plains below and the cave entrance in the distance, guarded by faint silhouettes of wasp-like sentinels.

Serenity sat before the main communication terminal, a black crystalline surface that awakened at her touch. A dozen holographic runes appeared midair, rotating gently as the system came online. She adjusted a small dial on her gauntlet and initiated the dimensional communication link.

Static washed over the interface—lines of interference rippling across the hologram as the connection struggled to bridge realities. She frowned. “Come on…” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The system beeped in denial, and the link failed to stabilize.

She exhaled deeply and switched tactics. Instead of a live transmission, she composed a holographic message, her face shimmering within the translucent sphere. Her tone softened, though the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed her composure.

“Hello William,” she began, her voice carrying the low hum of the ship around her. “We’ve reached the Wraith and infiltrated Maladrie’s Dark Castle. I think it’s best to tell Hailey to let go of her sister Page. Sorry... There were also very few Demon Warriors guarding the exterior of the castle. We managed to slip in explosives and escape unseen, but at the cost of getting Haj Tooth injured. Lastly, I’d like to know how long we’re forced to stay here. Nothing else is happening—which is weird. I also found Maladrie’s strange journal and will send digital copies of them. Bye.”

Her words lingered in the air for a few seconds before dissolving into streams of light that uploaded themselves into the device. She hesitated before pressing send, her hand hovering as if expecting the hologram to flicker back with a familiar voice—mine. But there was only silence. No pulse of acknowledgment. No echo through the void.

Serenity’s expression hardened. She finally pressed the button. The sphere dimmed and folded into the terminal with a soft chime, sending the message across dimensions through layers of subspace. The room fell eerily quiet, save for the soft mechanical rhythm of the ship breathing.

She leaned back in the chair, staring at the reflection of her own face in the glass—eyes illuminated by the distant shimmer of the nebula. The faint hum of the ship filled the air, like an echo of something alive, something aware. She knew the message would find me, even if the distance between galaxies and realms made such communication nearly impossible.

Once she was certain the data was transmitting, Serenity powered down the terminal. The crystalline panel dimmed, the room returning to its shadowed calm. She stood and activated the wrist gauntlet strapped over her black leather glove. The device emitted a faint turquoise glow, and she retrieved a bundle of parchment-like sheets from her belt pouch—the disturbing pages of Maladrie’s journal. Each page was etched in ink that writhed faintly when exposed to light, as if alive.

Serenity scanned each one carefully. Her gauntlet projected shimmering digital copies, translating the runic scrawls into readable code. The air shimmered with holographic text as strange words scrolled upward like whispering smoke. Some pages showed diagrams—half anatomical, half arcane—depictions of experiments that blended flesh and machine, demon and human. Others revealed cryptic entries of Maladrie’s obsession with “the reversal of souls” and “the final ascension of the flesh.”

When Serenity finished scanning the last page, her gauntlet emitted a soft tone, confirming that the files had been encrypted and transmitted. She exhaled through her nose, lowering the device and watching the holographic lights fade. “That’s it,” she whispered to herself. “Let’s hope it reaches him.”

She glanced once more at the viewport. The wheat fields outside glowed faintly, illuminated by the vessel’s underbelly lights. In the distance, she could just make out the entrance to the cave—a soft orange flicker indicating the torches of Beelzebub’s sentinels.

Serenity made her way out of the bridge, the automatic doors hissing open. Her reflection passed through streaks of blue light as she walked down the corridor. The sound of her boots echoed against the metallic floor until the artificial hum of the ship’s systems faded behind her.

Outside, Serenity paused for a moment at the base of the ship’s ramp, breathing in the metallic scent of the alien wind. Her white & black leather jumpsuit gleamed softly beneath the sky’s orange color.

Then, without hesitation, she began the trek back toward the cavern, her silhouette gliding through the swaying golden grass. The ship’s lights dimmed behind her, and the wheat parted gently as she passed, whispering like ghosts of the past. Ahead, the mouth of the cavern glowed faintly with bioluminescent moss and the movement of insectoid sentinels.

When she entered the cavern again, the air grew warmer—filled with the faint hum of the subterranean garden, its vines glowing with their internal light. Serenity’s pace slowed. She looked around, taking in the intricate hive structures that lined the walls and the faint sound of wings deeper within. Somewhere in that labyrinth of tunnels, Beelzebub tended to Haj Tooth’s recovery.

Once Serenity returned to the cavern, she was greeted not by calm or rest—but by a wave of chaos that shattered the silence. The once-glowing subterranean garden flickered dimly as the wasp sentinels and Shark warriors gathered in alarm around the stone table. Haj Tooth, who only moments ago had been resting peacefully beneath the bio-lights, suddenly arched her back in violent convulsions. The stone beneath her vibrated under the strength of her spasms.

Serenity sprinted across the uneven floor, her boots echoing sharply in the hollowed chamber. “Haj Tooth!” she shouted, her voice trembling as she reached the table. Haj Tooth’s gills flared wide and her sharp teeth clenched tight as blood began to bubble from her mouth, dripping in crimson streaks down her armor. Serenity grabbed her friend’s trembling hand, trying to steady her, the metallic scent of blood filling the humid air.

“Beelzebub, help!” she yelled, panic breaking through her normally calm tone.

Beelzebub rushed over, his expression shifting from confusion to dread as he saw the blood staining the table. “She may have an infection!” he barked, already tearing open a small canister of nanobot paste. His voice carried across the cavern, silencing the low murmurs of the Shark people who were beginning to gather.

But it was too late. Haj Tooth’s eyes rolled back, her breathing grew shallow, and the movement beneath her skin began to slow. Serenity pressed her hand against Haj Tooth’s chest, feeling for a pulse that no longer beat.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “No… no, please.”

Beelzebub froze where he stood, the canister slipping from his claws and shattering on the cavern floor, its contents oozing like quicksilver. He stared in disbelief as Haj Tooth’s head fell sideways, her gills going still.

Serenity felt the last tension in Haj Tooth’s hand fade—the hand that had once wielded a hammer with unstoppable fury, that had torn through enemy lines, that had held the strength of a leader. Now, it was limp in Serenity’s grasp.

A silence spread through the chamber like a suffocating fog. The Shark people, who had watched their leader fight and bleed beside them, lowered their heads in mourning. Even the bioluminescent plants dimmed, their faint glow flickering as if acknowledging the loss.

Serenity’s tears fell freely, streaking down her pale cheeks as she leaned over Haj Tooth’s body. “You didn’t deserve this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She brushed the damp medical paste from Haj Tooth’s face, her gloved fingers trembling.

Beelzebub took a step back, his head lowering in shame. His mandibles clicked softly in frustration. He had done everything he could—every salve, every mixture, every ancient treatment he knew—and still, his efforts had failed. His claws clenched tight as he muttered to himself, the guilt clear in his tone.

Around them, the Shark warriors began to kneel one by one, their heads bowed. Some placed their weapons on the ground as a sign of respect. The sound of dripping water from the cavern roof was the only thing that broke the quiet.

Serenity’s sobs echoed softly through the chamber. Beelzebub turned away, hiding his expression, though his trembling shoulders betrayed him.

In that dimly lit cavern, among roots turned to stone and gardens that glowed faintly beneath alien soil, a legend had died—and the weight of her passing pressed down on them all.

There wasn’t time for sorrow—no time even to breathe. The cavern walls trembled with a deep, booming force that rippled through the ground like a shockwave. Serenity’s tears had barely dried when the stone beneath her boots cracked, sending small fragments tumbling from the ceiling. A low rumble turned into a deafening quake.

“What’s happening?!” one of the Shark warriors shouted.

Beelzebub’s antennae twitched, his multifaceted eyes widening. “Something’s outside,” he hissed, wings buzzing in agitation.

Without hesitation, Serenity grabbed her sword and sprinted toward the exit, her black hair whipping behind her as the other warriors followed. When she burst out into the open wheat field, her heart dropped. The horizon burned red. The once calm amber fields now blazed with flames as a massive demon legion marched forward, the ground shaking beneath their advance.

At their front were towering Demon Warriors clad in molten armor, flanked by slithering Demonettes with elongated claws and glowing eyes. But what made Serenity’s blood run cold was who stood among them—Deathskull, the golden terminator droid who had once led the Vikingnar Empire, and beside him, Anubis, his tall jackal form illuminated in the orange light.

Behind them, a line of Jackal humanoid warriors in rustic Brass armor advanced in perfect unison. Intermixed with them were legions of Deathskull’s droids, their metallic forms reflecting the hellish glow of the sky. The mechanical precision of the droids and the chaotic fury of the demons made the force look unstoppable.

At the center of their formation, a massive laser cannon was being calibrated, its barrel pulsing with crimson energy. The cannon fired again, the sound like thunder ripping through space. The beam struck the ground near the cavern’s entrance, erupting into a geyser of molten earth and smoke.

Serenity raised her arm to shield her face from the blast. “Everyone take cover!” she shouted, diving behind a jagged stone outcrop. Beelzebub followed, crouching beside her as the second beam carved a smoking crater nearby.

“Alright everyone, get into formation!” Serenity commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos.

She turned to Beelzebub, her blue eyes glowing fiercely beneath the reflection of the fires. “Do you have any energy shields?!”

Beelzebub nodded sharply. “Yes—get them up! Hurry, and get all of the warriors out as well!” he barked at two of his wasp guards.

The guards saluted, wings buzzing as they darted back into the cavern. Within moments, a hum filled the air as a translucent dome began to shimmer to life around the battlefield. The energy shield pulsed with a bright azure glow, forming a barrier between Serenity’s forces and the incoming legion.

Serenity activated her armor. Her chest medallion glowed crimson as a surge of nanobots poured across her body, solidifying into silver graphene Viking armor streaked with red energy veins. The plates locked together with metallic precision, forming a sleek yet battle-hardened appearance.

She drew her red energy sword, its blade humming as it ignited to life. The ground glowed beneath its heat. Beside her, Beelzebub extended his corbin, its head sparking with blue plasma.

Behind them, ranks of Shark warriors emerged from the cavern, their luminescent armor glinting under the fiery skies. Their weapons—tridents, spears, and rifles—charged with electric blue energy. The Wasp humanoids joined them, hovering above with mechanical wings and plasma rifles aimed downward.

The energy shield flickered as another laser hit, but it held firm. Beelzebub roared over the noise, “Shields stable!”

Then came the sound—a roar that split the heavens.

Everyone looked up. Out of the orange mist of the Wraith sky, the Golden Dragon descended. Its scales shimmered like molten gold, and its wings stretched wide enough to blot out the sun. With a deafening screech, it dove down through the clouds, flames rippling from its throat.

It unleashed a torrent of fire that swept across the advancing demon horde, incinerating dozens of Demon Warriors in a single blast. The force of the firestorm threw bodies through the air, scattering molten armor and ash across the wheat field.

“The River Guardian!” one of the Shark soldiers cried out.

The Dragon’s golden eyes gleamed as it circled above, roaring again. But even its fury couldn’t stop what came next—the legion answered back. From within the ranks, Maladrie herself emerged, surrounded by twisted Demonettes that danced around her like living shadows. Her gaze was cold, her armor black as obsidian, etched with pulsating red runes.

The moment her hand lifted, the demon army surged forward.

The warriors roared in response, their unified shout echoing across the Wraith’s hellish plain. Energy blades clashed, tridents pierced through demon hides, and plasma bolts streaked through the smoke-filled air. The field erupted into chaos—steel and fire, wings and claws, blood and ash.

The Golden Dragon swooped again, raking through the air with a sonic boom as it bathed another legion in flames. The Shark people fought fiercely under its shadow, while the Wasp humanoids strafed the enemy from above, leaving trails of blue light in the haze.

Serenity and Beelzebub charged side by side into the fray. She struck down a Demon Warrior with a clean slash of her energy sword, the blade cutting through armor like liquid light. Beelzebub impaled another with his corbin, twisting the weapon before discharging a blast of plasma that vaporized the creature entirely.

Overhead, Deathskull’s golden frame glinted as he marched through the ranks, leading the droids with mechanical precision. His red optics flared as he raised his plasma rifle and began returning fire at the shielded defenders.

And with that, she charged forward through the storm of fire and light as the Battle of the Wraith Plains truly began—an all-out war of gods, machines, demons, and warriors under the burning orange skies of the damned.

As the battle raged under the orange skies of the Wraith, fire and blood mingled with the burning sands. Serenity’s blade was a red arc in the chaos—cutting through the smoky haze, slicing down Demonic warriors that lunged toward her. Explosions echoed across the field, and the ground quaked under the weight of fallen beasts and shattered mechs.

Through the wall of flame ahead, a dark figure emerged—her presence alone enough to make even the bravest soldiers hesitate. Maladrie.

Her obsidian-black hair flowed wildly in the heated wind. Her eyes glowed like twin suns bleeding fury, and her body was draped in skin-tight black leather garments, slick as oil and stitched with glowing crimson veins. The garments provided no armor, but the raw energy pulsing beneath her skin made her almost invincible.

“Did you think you could come into my home and defile my father’s corpse?” Maladrie hissed, her voice venomous and echoing through the battlefield like a curse.

Serenity froze where she stood, the words slicing through her thoughts like daggers. Her helmet concealed her face, making her unreadable—a faceless knight of vengeance.

Then Maladrie lunged.

Their swords clashed with a metallic shriek that sent sparks flying. Serenity blocked the first strike, twisted, and retaliated with a horizontal slash that grazed Maladrie’s side. The wound sizzled—but almost instantly healed, the torn flesh sealing shut with a hiss of black smoke.

Maladrie smirked. “You think pain can stop a goddess?”

Serenity didn’t answer. She stepped forward, thrusting her blade toward Maladrie’s chest. Maladrie parried, their blades locking as they pushed against each other, metal grinding between their armored hands. Serenity kicked Maladrie backward, only for the demoness to flip in midair and land in a crouch, snarling.

The two circled each other like predators, fire reflecting off Serenity’s silver graphene armor and Maladrie’s slick black leather.

Serenity struck again, fast and precise—her sword slicing through the air with red light. Maladrie ducked, then swung upward, her own demonic blade humming with dark energy. The strike missed Serenity’s throat by inches.

They exchanged blows in a dizzying blur—metal clanging, sparks bursting, their footsteps echoing on the cracked ground. Every time Serenity’s sword found flesh, Maladrie’s body regenerated, each wound sealing as if time itself bent to her will.

Despite the armor’s durability, Serenity was tiring. Her movements slowed, her breathing heavy beneath the helmet. Maladrie’s laughter echoed—mocking, sharp.

“You’re strong, mortal, but strength means nothing against divinity.”

Serenity pushed forward one last time, slashing diagonally across Maladrie’s chest. The demon goddess stumbled back—then countered with a vicious leg kick that swept Serenity off her feet. The two fell together, rolling through dirt and ash. Serenity gasped for air, armor plates shifting under her weight.

Maladrie sat up first, her eyes narrowing. She raised two fingers to her lips and whistled sharply, the sound slicing through the battlefield.

In the distance, Deathskull—the golden terminator droid—paused mid-command. His red optics glowed as Maladrie yelled, her voice echoing across the plain:

“Time to get out our experimental weapon!”

Deathskull’s voice boomed back, flat and mechanical: “It’s only going to slow her down, not kill her.”

“That’s the point, idiot machine! Now go!” Maladrie barked.

Within moments, the battlefield shifted. The smoke parted as Deathskull approached, accompanied by two towering Incubi—Hassan and Zach Carpon. Both wore heavy metal backpacks connected to strange, oversized guns with glowing orange coils. Steam hissed from the weapons as they powered up.

“Fire,” Deathskull commanded.

The weapons roared to life, unleashing streams of orange plasma that tore through the air. Serenity barely managed to raise her sword to block the onslaught, but the plasma wasn’t ordinary—it splashed against her armor like liquid fire, dissolving the graphene plating back into its nanobot form, which retreated in a cloud of molten silver dust.

The heat scorched her exposed neck. Serenity screamed as the plasma ate through her suit’s shielding, her energy systems flickering. She stumbled backward, her once-silver armor now reduced to fragments that crawled helplessly across her body.

“Keep firing!” Maladrie shouted.

Serenity fell to one knee, gasping for air. Around her, the Shark warriors lay in ruin—bodies charred, weapons broken, their glowing blue armor flickering out like dying stars. The battlefield that had once roared with life was now silent, save for the low hum of Deathskull’s weapons and the crackling of fire.

Beelzebub, still alive but heavily wounded, called out from the distance:

“All units, retreat back to the cavern! Now!”

His remaining wasp humanoids obeyed, dragging injured comrades as they disappeared into the wheat field fog.

Maladrie smirked, walking toward Serenity, whose sword trembled in her grip. Behind her, Hassan approached—tall, armored, and sneering.

He looked down at Serenity’s weakened form and chuckled darkly. “So, when is this hag going to understand that I’m the only one who’s allowed to discipline my dogs?”

Maladrie snarled, shoving him hard. “Beat it, jackass! My father’s corpse is more important than your beastly property! I’ll deal with her. And besides—” she leaned closer, her tone dripping with venom, “I castrated you. Remember?”

Hassan stiffened, staring at her in fear, but eventually smirked, bowing mockingly. “I suppose you’re right, my lady. It’s your time to shine. I just worry those insects who retreated back into the cave will be an issue.”

Maladrie’s red eyes glowed brighter, and she gave a cruel smile. “Don’t worry about them, they’re back to running.”

Behind her, the smoke rose higher, swallowing the battlefield in a crimson fog as the last of Serenity’s allies vanished into the burning horizon.

And there she lay—broken, weakened, but not defeated. Even as Maladrie’s shadow loomed over her, Serenity’s hand clenched tighter around her sword. A faint spark still glowed beneath the ashes.

Beelzebub stood in the trembling orange gloom of the Wraith, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion, his leather armor slick with blood and ash. The cavern walls behind him pulsed faintly from the residual energy of the battle outside — a low hum that seemed to echo from the very bones of the dimension itself. The air was thick with smoke and ozone, the scent of burnt flesh and melted circuitry mingling with the faint, metallic tang of the river that ran beneath the roots of the ancient cavern.

He turned, clutching his corbin with both hands, the weapon’s energy core flickering like a dying star. Outside the cavern, the battle was lost. Through the thick haze and drifting ash, he could just barely make out the sight of Serenity — her once-brilliant armor now cracked and flickering — being dragged away across the wheat fields. The orange sky above seemed to ripple like liquid fire, and beneath it, Maladrie’s demonic horde marched triumphantly, their black banners swaying in the sulfuric wind.

Beelzebub’s throat tightened. He could still hear Serenity’s last scream echoing through the void, fading as the Demons disappeared into the lightless distance. The Shark People who remained lay in heaps of motionless scales and blood near the shield generator, their once-glistening fins now dulled by death. The wasp warriors, those who hadn’t been vaporized by plasma, twitched weakly where they’d fallen.

He stumbled backward into the cavern, gripping his side where a shard of molten glass had embedded itself. His mind raced — grief, confusion, and fury colliding in a chaotic storm within him. The walls seemed to breathe; shadows lengthened unnaturally, curling like smoke.

He stopped suddenly. Something was wrong.

The stone table — the same cold slab where Haj Tooth’s lifeless body had rested — was empty. No blood. No remains. Not even a mark of where she had been. Beelzebub blinked, trying to steady his mind. Perhaps one of the Shark People moved her before dying? No… that couldn’t be. Every warrior was accounted for. The cavern was a tomb.

Then, from the darkness beyond the energy crates and scattered debris, came a faint shimmer.

Beelzebub turned sharply, raising his weapon, energy core humming again as he took aim. The shimmer took shape — the faint, translucent outline of a woman with webbed hands, shimmering silver eyes, and gills faintly glowing through her spectral form. Haj Tooth.

He froze. His grip loosened on the corbin, his breathing ragged.

She stepped forward, her voice soft yet resonant, echoing as though carried by the deep ocean itself.

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly, her tone gentle yet commanding. “The Immortals will surely come to rescue their own.”

Beelzebub’s mind reeled. Her lips didn’t quite move with her words — they rippled through the air like sonar. She looked peaceful, untouched by the torment of death that had wracked her mere moments ago.

“Tell the other Immortals,” she continued, “or Vikings, that Maladrie no longer owns the Shark Hive.”

Beelzebub’s eyes widened, confusion flashing across his face. “What—” he started, but the words caught in his throat.

Haj Tooth simply gave him a faint smile — a soft, knowing one — and began to fade. Her form flickered like light refracting through water, growing dimmer until she vanished completely, leaving only the faint sound of waves echoing where none should exist.

The silence afterward was deafening.

Beelzebub stood frozen, staring at the empty space where her apparition had been. His pulse pounded in his ears, and the only sound left in the cavern was the steady drip of water from the stalactites above. The battle outside had gone quiet — too quiet. The demonic legions were gone. The Wraith’s skies had grown darker, pulsing with the energy of the rift that separated this realm from all others.

His lips finally parted, his voice hoarse and low.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly, “did I get myself into?”

He ran a clawed hand through his hair, looking toward the distant horizon where Maladrie’s forces had vanished. His thoughts churned: Immortals. Rescue. Shark Hive. It didn’t make sense — none of it did. And yet, somewhere deep inside, he could feel it — a shift in the Wraith’s energy, as though something older and far more powerful than Maladrie was awakening.

The air rippled again — a tremor that wasn’t physical, but spiritual. Beelzebub tightened his grip on his corbin, feeling the vibrations of the realm flow through the weapon’s handle. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the fiery wheat fields, the sound of thunder rolled across the sky.

It wasn’t natural thunder. It was the sound of something massive breaking through.

And though he couldn’t see it, Beelzebub knew — Haj Tooth’s final words weren’t a warning. They were a promise.

Something was coming.

Maladrie’s throne room glowed like the heart of a dying star—vast, suffocating, and filled with the scent of scorched sulfur. Black marble pillars wrapped in pulsating red veins stretched upward, supporting a ceiling lined with screaming faces fossilized in molten glass. Her new fortress, built upon the remains of the old castle that had been obliterated in Serenity’s assault, was both a palace and a tomb. The structure seemed alive—breathing, whispering, shifting in the flickering crimson light that poured through the stained-glass windows depicting infernal wars of old.

At the center sat Maladrie herself, draped in a flowing gown of shadow silk that shifted hues with every movement—black, purple, and crimson bleeding together like oil in water. Her bare feet rested on the skull of a fallen Wraith general, and her left hand idly caressed the armrest of her throne, which was carved from the petrified spine of a dragon. Around her, the air shimmered faintly with residual demonic energy—her power leaking into the room like vapor.

Deathskull stood several feet away from her, his towering golden endoskeleton polished but scarred from countless wars. The red glow of his eyes flickered with machine precision, the sound of his internal systems humming low like a mechanical growl. Beside him stood Anubis—tall, black-furred, and clad in ceremonial armor etched with hieroglyphs that pulsed faint blue with spiritual energy. His jackal-like visage betrayed nothing but patience.

Behind them, Zach and Hassan—Maladrie’s last surviving Incubi generals—stood rigidly at attention, their demonic wings folded behind their backs, both visibly tense from the last battle’s heavy losses. Kristi, the only human-like figure in the room aside from Nancy, leaned against a pillar, her face half-lit by the room’s burning chandeliers.

And finally, Nancy—the pale-skinned Succubus with silver hair and violet eyes—stood near the base of the throne, her tail twitching nervously.

Deathskull broke the tense silence first. His voice, metallic and deliberate, reverberated across the chamber like a low, grinding echo:

“So how do we fight a two-front war now?”

Maladrie slowly tilted her head, her serpentine eyes narrowing as she studied him. The room seemed to grow darker as she replied, her voice a cold hiss beneath a velvet tone:

“We don’t have to fight a two-way anything. They’re all scattered.”

She rose from her throne, each motion calculated, deliberate, her black hair flowing like smoke. Her expression hardened, and her tone shifted from calm command to venomous intent.

“And while you’re working on our little simulation, consider making a weapon to kill the bitch chained up in the dungeon.”

Deathskull’s metal jaw clicked as he processed her command. His golden hands flexed, and the sound of hydraulics filled the chamber. “You mean Serenity?” he asked, his red optics narrowing slightly.

Maladrie nodded once, her lips curling into a grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

Nancy, who had been quiet until now, frowned and folded her arms. “Is it really necessary to perform side tasks?” she asked sharply, her tone carrying the kind of insolence that could get someone killed in a place like this.

Maladrie froze. The entire chamber went deathly still.

Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, she turned toward Nancy. “She desecrated my father’s carcass,” she hissed, her voice now trembling with rage. “Our previous engineer—Zuccubus—died in the explosion at the old castle.”

Her eyes flashed crimson as she turned sharply toward Deathskull. “You’re my best shot now, Deathskull.”

Then she pivoted back to Nancy, her tone softening—but it was the softness of a blade just before it cuts. “And her friend took William away from me.”

Nancy scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ was just your adopted father, and William was never meant to be yours.”

The insult struck like lightning.

Before anyone could react, Maladrie blurred into motion—her form dissolving into smoke and reappearing directly in front of Nancy. Her black-clawed hand snapped forward, twisting violently. A sharp crack echoed through the throne room.

Nancy’s eyes went wide. Her mouth opened soundlessly as her neck bent at an unnatural angle. She crumpled to the obsidian floor with a soft thud. For a moment, no one moved. The air grew heavy, filled with static and the faint scent of ozone.

Maladrie turned, eyes blazing like twin furnaces. Her voice came out as a roar that rattled the chamber walls.

“Does anyone else have a problem?”

Silence.

Then, from the far right, an Incubi soldier—young and foolish—raised his hand nervously. “I-Ivan,” he stammered, “just wanted to ask if—”

He never finished his sentence.

Maladrie’s eyes flared with dark energy, and a crack of shadow lightning burst from her fingertips, striking Ivan square in the forehead. His skull exploded like glass, coating the floor and nearest wall with blood and fragments of horn.

“Fuck you, Ivan!” Maladrie snarled, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

Chunks of molten flesh sizzled as they hit the burning braziers that lined the room. Kristi took a step back, eyes wide, while Zach and Hassan both averted their gazes, knowing better than to speak.

Maladrie turned to face the survivors, her expression hardening again into cold authority. “Zach. Hassan. You’re my last two Incubi,” she said sharply, her tone now eerily composed after her outburst. “You will keep an eye on our galactic borders.”

She pointed at them with a clawed finger, then gestured toward Deathskull and Kristi. “Kristi and Deathskull will hold your hand if needed.”

The four nodded wordlessly. The order was not one to be questioned. They turned and began to exit, the heavy iron doors groaning open as they passed through, leaving Maladrie alone.

As the doors closed, sealing her in, Maladrie sank slowly back onto her throne. Her breathing steadied, and she stared ahead at the burning sigil above the main gate — the mark of her father, still faintly glowing in defiance of death.

The shadows crept up around her like old friends. Her hands clenched into fists. Beneath her breath, she whispered to herself, the words barely audible — a promise born of fury and obsession.

“William was meant to be mine. Meow.” Maladrie purred while rubbing her black leather bikini & thigh boots.

And somewhere deep below the castle, chained in darkness, Serenity stirred as the faint echo of that voice reached her through the stone. She is tied up wearing her black & white leather jumpsuit, now weathered from the previous battle.

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CHAPTER 25: "SEVERANCE" "VIKINGS WAR IN VALHALLA"