Beyond The Impossible

Dark Galaxy, 10 billion light-years from Earth

The Menagerie of Gods

Underneath the surface where gods are tortured for eternity, there’s a sprawling web of interconnected dungeons. The mortals living here are surviving thanks to the Ichor flowing through their veins, but it’s hard to call this living.

Their bodies have been slowly decaying over thousands or millions of years, doomed to eternally wander this poorly lit maze. None of them even recall if they did anything to deserve this fate; their free will has eroded into sheer instinct. And that instinct is to hunt anything they see.

There’s only one mortal not suffering this living death, and he’s been running for his life as soon as he found himself in this place.

He certainly doesn’t look like he has the physique for this. His body is scrawny, with barely enough muscles to allow him to stand up; his skin has been scarred by claws and teeth scratching at his bronze metallic skin, something easily noticeable when he’s not wearing clothes.

The undead are not fast, but they are everywhere. Every time he turns a corner in this maze there’s one new horror waiting for him, and even his partially divine heritage can’t sustain him forever.

He stops to catch his breath, leaning against a wall. This is the most rest he’s been able to achieve for the past three days, and he already knows it’s over: the undead are catching up, and he can hear another horde coming from the other side of the maze.

<Please. I can’t take it anymore. I’ll do anything Baal wants… just leave me alone.> he pleads, with tears falling over his bronze skin.

They instantly evaporate from the heat of the wall of fire that just appeared out of nowhere, which now isolates him from both sides of the maze.

The undead gladly immolate themselves by walking through the flames, but one figure does move through it like it wasn’t even there.

<Don’t hurt me! Please! I’ll do anything!> the man cries, crouching and covering his head expecting to be attacked again.

<Gilgamesh? Is that really you?> a warm voice asks, and when the demigod dares to look up he sees a kind-hearted goddess worrying about his state.

<Vesta! My gods, thank you!> he shouts, finding the strength to jump at her to embrace her in the strongest hug he’s capable of. Which isn’t saying much in his current status.

<I’m… glad you’re safe. What happened to you?> she asks, awkwardly patting him over the head.

She remembers him as being a towering mass of glistering muscles, not this malnourished weakling barely five feet tall.

<Baal took everything from me. I couldn’t even defend myself. Noriko isn’t here, right?>

<No, I don’t know where she is. But I doubt she’s on this planet; she’s not responding to the Soul Relay, and Baal seems to have imprisoned only gods here… and demigods, apparently.>

<Thank the gods, I can’t let her see me like this. Don’t tell her you saw me cry.> Gilgamesh pleads, finally stopping the embrace.

<I don’t think she’d care, but okay. Let’s get you out of here and find you some clothes.> Vesta tells him, trying her best not to look embarrassed by having to look away.

<Yes, thank you. You didn’t see anything, right?> Gilgamesh asks, making sure to cover his crotch with his hands to hide that his muscles are not the only thing that Baal shrunk into almost nothing.

<I wasn’t looking.> she lies.

 

Light-years away

Living quarters of the HDS Polymetis

Torn and Quantum are sitting on the floor, opposite each other. Everyone else has left the room to give them enough silence to concentrate on their attempt to get in synch.

The Demon can feel his teammate’s soul being restless, attempting to reach beyond the normal reach of a human’s spirit.

Said human isn’t sure if he’s feeling Torn’s soul or just the rhythmic beat of his three demonic hearts. But even with his eyes closed he can sense more than what his human senses can easily interpret. The neutrinos emitted from the nearest star moving harmlessly through the molecules of the ship, the cosmic rays bouncing off the hull, the exotic particles coming from Noriko’s tampering with the Negative Drive she’s working on in the engine room, even the virtual particles left by the footprints of Kari’s duplicate.

<Stop trying to feel with your mind. It only confuses your soul.> Torn suggests.

<Is that supposed to be any help?>

<A soul being told what to feel is just as useless as a mind being told what to think.>

<This ain’t gonna work, Torn, I don’t buy any of this New Age crap.>

<It is anything but new, Demons have been doing this since Hell was formed.>

<Yeah, well, didn’t that Sumerian dude…>

<Utnapishtim.> Torn corrects him.

<Gesundheit. Didn’t he say the Demons didn’t discover the Blood? Maybe you’re also not the first ones to find out how to weaponize souls. If this isn’t working for me, maybe there’s another way?>

<Stop looking for excuses not to learn. If you concentrate on the task at hand, instead of confusing your soul thinking back at your fiancée…>

<Of course I’m thinking about Jane! How are you not thinking about what’s happening back home!?> Quantum shouts, standing up to better yell at his teammate.

Torn doesn’t move, still keeping his eyes closed.

<Completing the mission is the fastest way to see my wife and daughters again. Never confuse my resolve for selfishness, Maximilian.>

<Don’t use my full name, dude, that sounds weird coming from… wait, how did you know I was thinking about Jane?>

<Your soul is wide open. You cover your heart with an open sleeve, as humans say.>

<That’s not the… nevermind. Listen, I just got a crazy idea: if you can see my soul so clearly, isn’t there some way you can transfer there the knowledge of how to do this soul stuff?>

<A soul implant? It has never been done from a Demon to a human, and soul surgery is a Blood technique of the highest order.>

<You mean you don’t know how to do it?>

<I know for certain that I can. I am simply unsure your soul will survive the procedure.>

<Why not? Because I’m human?>

<Because a successful implant would require the two souls to be similar enough to prevent yours to reject the surgery.> Torn explains.

<So? What’s the problem, we’re buddies right?>

<We have nothing in common besides our gender and our allegiance to Null.> Torn replies.

Coming from anyone else it would sound like an insult, but Quantum knows this is just the extremely direct way Demons carry themselves.

<What? Come on, that’s not true! We both… uhm… well… let’s see…>

<This was a waste of time.> Torn says shaking his head, beginning to stand up.

<We’re both heroes.> Quantum realizes.

<I am no hero.> the Demon replies, sitting down again.

<Dude, last time I checked, we’re in the same superhero team and we’ve both saved the world and the Galaxy several times. More than one Galaxy, even!!!>

<Be that as it may, I have not lived the life of a hero. The lives I’ve taken when I obeyed my father’s will…> Torn replies, but he stops when he does feel something coming from another soul.

<Yes you’ve talked about the kind of monster your father was to you, but…>

<So was yours.> Torn stops him.

<How do you… I’ve never talked about my father with you!>

<Your soul just did. Sit down.>

<You can’t be serious. The thing we have in common is that our fathers suck!?>

<No. It’s the fact that we don’t suck because they do. Soul Resonance!!!>

 

Nowhere

Quantum wasn’t prepared to suddenly find himself somewhere else, while simultaneously being aware that he’s not in a place… he’s in a memory.

He’s seeing a Demon child being hit with a chain made of Blood energy by an adult who bears a strong resemblance to Torn’s current age.

In the same cave where this is happening, the same child is also sitting against the wall with his head buried against his knees to hide the fact that he’s crying.

<Rough training?> a Demon woman asks with a kind voice that doesn’t sound like it belongs to Hell, as she sits next to the child.

<Father says I’m a failure. I will never be as strong as him, or even as Pain.>

<Your sister has the fiery determination of your father, yes. You lack the passion to burn as bright as they do… but a candle that burns slowly serves its purpose better than one that explodes.> the woman explains, patting her son’s head.

<You’re not a natural born weapon like your father and sister, Torn. Your journey is different.>

<Then father is right? I will never be as strong as them?>

<Yes, he is right. You will be stronger. A weapon with something to fight for.>

<What something?> the child asks, wiping away the tears.

<Only the Blood knows. That is for you to find out.>

<Get the hell out of my house!!!> a man yells, making Quantum’s heart miss a beat.

He turns, finding himself next to Torn observing a familiar scene.

A heavyset African American man is grabbing a young woman by the arm and dragging her towards the door to his childhood home. His wife is watching from a distance, crying, while a nineteen-year-old Max Black tries to stop his father.

<Dad, come on, let her go!> he yells, but all he receives is a slap in the face. This lets the girl free, and she doesn’t hesitate to yell at his face.

<Don’t take it out on Max! Or is hitting him making you feel like a man!?>

<Don’t talk back to me! I ain’t keeping a f##king d#ke under my roof!>

<She didn’t really mean what she said.> the mother cries out.

<Yes I did, mom, I’m a lesbian okay? If you don’t want me here, fine, I’d rather be on the streets than share a roof with an a##hole like you!> she shouts at him.

Her father is ready to slap her, but he’s stopped by his son throwing a comic book at his face.

<Leave her alone!> the young Max yells.

<What, he turned you into a f#g too? Wasn’t it enough to get my only good son killed, you also had to be a failure too? Fine, you can leave with your sister! And take your stupid comics with you!>

<Keep’em. They might teach you how to be an actual man. C’mon sis.> the young Max snaps back, taking his sister’s hand and making sure to slam the door as hard as he can as soon as they’re out.

Kayla Black is speechless as the two walk in the streets of Chicago in the middle of the night.

<You didn’t have to do that, Max. Dad’s never going to let you go back after this.>

<Someone had to stand up for you. It’s what heroes do, right? Even ones with no money and with no hope of getting a decent job.>

<As your big sister I’ll never tell this to anyone, but… you’re my hero, Max.> Kayla confesses, resting her head on his shoulder as the two walk out of this vision.

<That took courage. I did not rebel against my father’s ways until I thought he died.> Torn admits, extending his arm waiting for Quantum to shake it.

<Well my father wasn’t a Demon super-warrior. So… does this weird therapy session mean we’re in synch now?> the human replies, taking the Demon’s hand.

<We shall find out. QUANTUM RESONANCE!!!>

 

Ekron, near the galactic center

The Demon named Reaper sits on the Emerald Throne, surrounded by so much Ichor that the air itself is an impenetrable black fog.

He’s disappointed to say the least: his son Torn managed to escape from the dungeons, but rather than make his father proud he fled the planet instead of fighting to the death.

The Ekronites under his command have scoured the Dark Galaxy looking for him and for the rest of the Vanguard, following reports of a massive battle taking place in the Menagerie of Gods.

They’ve been unable to find anyone, which frustrates Reaper to no end: now that Baal is stuck in a perfectly even fight with Zeus that could last an eternity, it would be the perfect opportunity to gain control of the Dark Galaxy once and for all.

If it wasn’t for the variable of the Slayer of Gods and her allies. They’ve never been this vulnerable, and he commands enough forces to deliver a fatal blow… if he only knew where to find them.

Then Ichor itself gives him a signal. It comes in a painful stab straight into his soul.

Something reverberated throughout all the Ichor of the Dark Galaxy; something just pierced through its connection to a higher state of existence with enough force to be felt.

Or rather, pinpointed. And at the center of that event, he felt his son’s soul.

<Reaper to all Ekronian forces. Prepare for a strike at these specific coordinates and remember: lethal force is mandatory.>