“Well?” Gemini asked. “It’s not bad, right? I’ve no idea why the others didn’t want me to cook. Did they get spoiled by Lila’s handiwork? Or was it something else?”

Within the black tower that was the Demon God’s last inheritance, a small table made to seat six had been set up. All kinds of food that a party would have — by Gemini’s standards — had been placed on the table, with a pizza half a metre in diameter taking the centre stage.

“I think your subordinates are either didn’t dare to accept food made by you, if you ask me.” Hereward looked up from his pizza. “If you were a commoner in the Western Holdings, would you dare to eat food cooked by Queen Hyperion herself? The same logic applies here, just that it’s amplified to a tee.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it, little brother,” said Thasvia. “It’s great, your food. You should come over to our Divine Kingdoms and try our own homemade fare some time. You might like it.”

Liamar roared once, which served to express his gratitude for the pizza, suggest a couple of ingredients to add and what dishes the godkith of his Divine Kingdom liked to have for dinner.

“Godkith?” Gemini tilted his head. “What are godkith?”

“They’re offshoots of us, in a sense,” Thasvia replied. “Sentient beings of elemental power. They’re like mortals, just that they bear an infinitesimal fraction of our power. Some of them eventually become familiar spirits, but that’s quite up to luck.”

“Huh. Then why do I not have one?” Gemini wondered.

“You, Hereward and Aldnath won’t have such little fellows. For my older brothers, it’s because they’re Bounded Presences of a concept…and also because Hereward isn’t actually like us,” Thasvia replied, before glancing at Aldnath, who was chewing steadily on a slice of pizza.

The Dragon of Time, who was in his human form, finished off the last of his pizza and then stood back up. Grey light emanated out of him with that single action, and Hereward let out a sigh.

“Are your preparations complete?” Hereward asked.

The old man nodded slowly, and the wrinkles that lined his aged face began to fade away. At the same time, his hunched posture straightened up, and before Gemini’s eyes, the old, sage-like figure had turned into a young man. Power gathered around him, but the great god’s presence was ephemeral, as he didn’t quite belong here.

The Dragon of Time had been gathering his power for a final gambit. Of the great gods, Aldnath had the lowest talent for combat, despite his awe-inspiring true form. It was natural, since his express purpose was to safeguard causality and the timestream as a whole.

“Our last hope rests with you, brother.” The Sentinel of Space bowed his head. “I’ve troubled you for many, many things. I can only hope that the seed you sowed two years ago bears fruit.”

Liamar let out a quiet roar.

“May we meet once more,” Gemini whispered.

Aldnath, as a Bounded Presence like the other great gods, could only use his divinity for certain purposes. However, the Dragon of Time had far more limits on his power, to the point that using it for combat could only be possible under very specific circumstances. The same went for his other powers, like the one he was about to use.

The young man inclined his head slowly, and his body started to come apart. His divinity, which was a light-grey that struck both a complement and contrast to Hereward’s dark-grey, began to form a cocoon around the great god.

Gemini watched on with both interest and sorrow. Now that he was examining it up close, this full release of Aldnath’s power resembled Zeroth Releases, albeit in a far-larger scale. Were they related somehow?

“Bon voyage, Aldnath,” Thasvia murmured. “May you return safe and sound.”

The emanations of light-grey light reached a peak, scattering the shadows around them. The intense glow lasted for barely a heartbeat, before the source vanished with a soul-shaking quake, and darkness fell once more.

Aldnath had left Orb.

“Goodbye, my brother,” Hereward muttered. “May you have a good journey.”

Picking up Aldnath’s abandoned cup, the Sentinel of Space filled it to the brim with lemon tea, before returning it to its original position. At the same time, Thasvia cut out a slice of pizza to place on the departed great god’s plate, and Liamar finished the ritual by adding some finger food on top.

The whole thing should have been hilarious, in one way or another, but the solemn, mechanical way in which they conducted the impromptu ceremony left no space for brevity.

“We’ll do this in a more light-hearted manner when he comes back,” said Gemini. “It’s a promise.”

Thasvia stared at him, an approving light in her emerald eyes. “Yes. It’s a promise. We’ll gather in some great place, shiny and sunlit, and then have a real party once all this is over.”

“That sounds great,” said Hereward. “We’ll all prepare some food, made by ourselves, and then celebrate his return.”

Liamar roared once more, to express both his agreement, the idea that such a sorrowful atmosphere should be done away with, as well as a prompt to finish up the food here before they went cold. This little party was meant for Aldnath, who was departing into the great unknown for the sake of the world.

“Let’s finish this party for everyone’s sake,” said Thasvia. “We might not have made much headway in resisting the primordial energies of Orb, but we cannot afford to delay any further. The armies of the Five Lands are massing, and we need to provide them with ample support if we are to have a prayer at victory.”

“Our children have surpassed us in many respects,” said Hereward. “Let us hope that they will bring us our promised victory. It is impossible for the Abyss Sovereign to harness great amounts of primordial energy anyway; if we each take a shot…”

He sighed.

“Let us set our affairs in order, and then join the Five Lands in this battle for the world. Defeat is not an option.”