[Since the Fall: 10/20/809 - 2:08:54]

He awoke feeling refreshed. Checking in on everyone, he made sure the camp was doing fine before cooking and eating more Praerel meat. Putting his tooth mask back on, him and the others set out along the final stretch. He estimated it would only take around ten minutes to reach their goal. It was time to find a second piece of this area's puzzle.

* * *

Through his Tremor Sense, Dei watched the physical body of where he'd last seen the spirit. Like the shattered pieces of the red blade, there was a void of vibrations where the physical aspect was, meaning he could not properly get a clear idea of what it was.

It was in the center of a small intersection, around ten or twenty feet wide, and he didn't even need to get close to see it. The tunnel he was taking to reach it was a long straight shot, meaning he had it in sight before he ever had to get close.

Now that he was looking at it, he could easily see what it was. The crumpled remains of a damaged helmet. He couldn't make out the details of it, but he could tell it was misshapen. Looking at it, a slight stinging appeared in the back of his eyes, but it didn't register at first. Once he crossed an invisible threshold though, an intense foreign presence invaded his mind.

The tangible force of emotions drilled against him, so intense that no human could ever fully comprehend its depths. Pure, unfiltered, hatred.

The waves of screaming dread pressed against him, demanding he understand its fury. The helmet hated. It hated. It existed only to be a true vessel of the uncontrollable agony barely contained within its metallic form.

It screamed and cried. It beat against the walls of its own body. It knew, it knew its surroundings, and it was aware of every passing moment. Unlike the shattered blade, this helmet's mind was fully intact, and it could never begin to express how much it hated that. How much it hated itself and how much it hated the world.

Within his soul, he felt a resonant connection from his Wrath affinity. Deeper than simply the affinity itself, this helmet shared with him something he'd long forgotten about: a blessing from Wrath itself.

The blessing would make other Wrath users feel inferior to him, but this helmet stood completely on equal footing. What he felt now, pressing against his skin, was the Visible Presence this helmet had built up since becoming stranded here in this cave.

He took a step back, exiting the aura.

Clever jumped off his shoulder, throwing up gouts of magma on the ground, completely unable to withstand the singular second he'd been present within the presence. Fang shuddered horribly in his hand, retracting herself down from her blade-like form to a small nub. Only Fendrascora was doing a bit better, although still panicked.

Dei was quickly made aware that his aquatic companion was alright thanks to his body taking the brunt of the attack.

"Sorry Clever, sorry Fang. I didn't know it would be like that. You two stay here. I'll have to do this one without you."

Neither opposed, glad to not go back in there. Fendrascora, on the other hand, had to come with him, but she would be a bit more prepared than the others. Still, he took a moment to pull much of his Fortitude mana out of his Pandora's Box and surround Fendrascora with it. There was enough for them both to be protected by Fortitude, but he would not use it on himself.

It wanted to be heard, its hurt and hate. Dei wanted to help, so he would listen.

Taking another step forward the silent roar of dread once again encompassed him. He wanted to make sure Fendrascora was okay, but the Presence alone of this helmet tore apart any magical construct he tried to form, stopping communication.

He took another step forward, and realized its presence was stronger than he'd even anticipated. It was a gradual feeling, and the emotions would only become stronger the closer he got to it.

He took another step closer, and the inanimate helmet seemed to shudder. Blinking quickly, he saw that it was only a visual trick.

A fourth step and he thought he heard the echoes of a scream in some distant place, but again it was only his mind.

A fifth step, and his peripheral vision seemed to move and twist, but no matter where he looked, it all stayed the same.

His sixth footfall let out the clanging sound of metal on claw.

His seventh made the wave of emotions feel like viscera running down his body.

The eighth made him grunt in pain as his shoulder was torn open by a claw, but he kept fighting. He kept walking.

The ninth made him snap back to attention. The blood loss was getting to him, he couldn't fall here. They would die. They would all die if he did.

Readying himself, for the start of the battle he pressed forward deep into enemy ranks. If he could draw their attention, if they focused on trying to overwhelm him, the wall's defenders could handle the stragglers.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen steps deep into their ranks. They crawled over him now, but he wielded his sword with practiced ease, slicing through them. He felt his companions defend against blows he couldn't, he felt as they healed him with what little mana they had left when they sensed him flagging from blood loss. He was the only one strong enough to fight, he couldn't let them pass.

Finally, Dei reached the helmet, barely holding onto his sense of self. He'd produced a significant amount of Fortitude mana for facing the helmet's emotions head on, and he intended to use that now. Leaving just enough to shield Fendrascora, he held both hands close to the sides of the helmet lying on the ground without touching it- fearing it would be too much to come into physical contact with such an object when it was in the depths of madness- and let loose a wave of Fortitude mana into the red metal, saturating it.

The pervading aura ceased for only a moment. For just a moment, the helmet regained awareness of itself enough to hear his words.

"Let me share your burden."

Finally, he placed both hands on the sides of the helmet, and a connection was formed between them. Through it, the oceanic amount of Wrath mana it contained began to fill him as well, carrying not only the helmet's hatred, but the message.

It rapidly filled his Pandora's Box and began stretching its bounds, but he didn't even feel it this time. His main mind was quickly whisked away, lost within an endless blizzard of emotions. He was just barely able to set aside a sub-mind to keep watch over his body, telling it to cut the connection to the helmet if it became lethal.

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* * *

Aloran led the people down below, evacuating yet another city. Fifty years since the demon was first born, that wretched traitor, and the Gray Minds Above had still yet to figure out a way to contain him and his spawn. While it was true that he could not be killed, there was potential to contain him.

Aloran was a minor deity of refuge. He rose from human into something more, but he intentionally kept himself weak so his divine weight would not shatter the world around him when he manifested. He was never one to be a ruler, he preferred to lead the charge. If he became too strong, he would no longer be able to affect the physical world directly, having to use vessels to narrow his power.

Despite his weakness though, he was still a God, and his godly status meant he knew more about the situation with the demon than others in the world.

Gods transcended many concepts, detaching from them slightly and making travel between universes much easier. As a result, it was a bit of an open secret between Gods that there were other universes, shared with only a select few.

The Gray Minds Above were one such group of mortals, and they worked together with the Gods of this universe to scour the others for any scrap of information on containing demons. They did not try to kill the demon, even the System itself told of that impossibility.

For five years, they searched other universes, until a System message went out to all Gods.

[WARNING! Demonic presence has become entwined into the fabric of your reality and will soon begin spreading to others. Activating quarantine protocols.

Flee from your universe or become trapped within as well.]

In moments, plans collapsed. Several powerful Gods chose to flee with their most trusted followers, weakening the resisting forces. Luckily, all of the Gray's chose to remain, continuing to search for a way to imprison the demon. Though they could no longer search other universes, there had to be a way.

A single day after the warning was given out, a barrier was enacted by the System and empowered by the Gods of hundreds of other universes, even those not bordering on Aloran's universe. They did not want it to escape and spread to theirs, after all.

Once the barrier was up, Aloran's universe was cut off from all the others. Before, Gods slipped between universes, in and out of boundaries, mingling with mortals. Now, Aloran knew the practice was dead. No Gods had time to spare anymore, and there were so few around. Without the visitation of foreign Gods, it felt so lonely.

Nonetheless, he and the present Gods would keep up the fight.

After the most recent city falling under the tides of demon-kin, the Council of Shamans volunteered to assist in creating a crystal cavern for the refugees to live in. Aloran was called to guide them to this place far away, alongside four other Shamans.

It would be a long journey, but that was okay. The people were alive, and that's what mattered.

* * *

After the people made it to their new home, Aloran could not simply leave. Demon-kin prowled around every corner and easily pierced most methods of stealth, he needed to hide them. His divine domain would hide them until better concealment methods were discovered.

For now, he would be forced to take a break from fighting in the war.

* * *

One year turned into two, two into twenty, and Aloran continued to guide his people, training every day, continuing to hone his Skills.

His city was officially invited to the Gem Dweller system ten years ago, and he accepted. When better concealment methods were found, he would step down and hand control over to a Shaman, but he enjoyed the time spent here.

He was a God of Refuge, and he provided exactly that to the people who needed it most.

* * *

Fifty years after the founding of Alora, as the people insisted calling it much to his embarrassment, Aloran was dubbed an honorary Shaman, and inducted officially as a leader.

So long ago, he'd intended to leave when concealment methods were found, but he didn't think it was necessary anymore. He didn't need to fight the hordes any longer.

Slaughterers had begun to appear, and they were furious.

Before, Slaughterers would pop up once every hundred and fifty years or so, usually going berserk when people tried to bring them back into the folds of society. They oftentimes had to be put down, or ran back into the wilds to live out the rest of their lives, never seen again.

After the war? Aloran was hearing reports of annual Slaughterers, sometimes even two per year.

More than that though, they were faring better mentally as well. The war resonated with them, it calmed them. They were easily able to work out their frustrations on endless tides of mindless enemies.

Though Slaughterers were always hyper-specialized, their abilities were unmatched in their fields. When coordinated well, their weaknesses covered?

The Slaughterers were doing more to slow the expanse of demon-kin than everyone else combined.

For the first time since The Fall, people were beginning to hope.

* * *

Shortly after he was inducted as an honorary Shaman, he was offered a gift. Aloran had a notorious set of equipment, composed of Bloodstar Metal, few could match its durability and sharpness. In his younger years as a mortal, he'd found an ancient monster that loved to forge and formed a pact with it in exchange for the armor.

The gift the Shamans offered him was to make his armor and sword living. Initially, he was against the idea, but they told him of its benefits.

Each piece of equipment would become conscious and gain access to the System, getting its own interface, stats, and Skills. That they, too, could train. It would enhance the durability more than it already was, and he would gain access to a plethora of new Skills that were previously out of reach.

More than this though, if the living armor and sword were made from fragments of himself, their Interfaces would be added to his, and his own to theirs. They would build upon one another, becoming greater than the sum of their parts.

He was hesitant at first… but the looming demonic threat made him reach for the power.

* * *

Dei was pulled from the visions for a moment, and he watched his view split in two. One continued from Alorans point of view, the other took place as an enchanted helmet. Alorans point of view quickly faded away, and his perspective changed once more. He inhabited the now-living helmet.

* * *

"I dub thee Lani, named after Lani Jurae, my master when I was once mortal. I hope that you will guide me on my path, friend, as Lani once did."

Lani heard the deep warm voice, and he was confused only for a moment.

That was Aloran. He had memories of once being Aloran, but he knew that he was not now. The thought did not alarm him. He was a helmet, he'd always been a helmet, and he was fine with that.

Lani could see in a perfect sphere around him, some sort of Racial ability granting him sight, and he watched Aloran go down the line. Lani was the first equipment to become living, but the others were as well. Four circles intricately decorated in symbols surrounded five pieces of armor.

Lani was the helmet, then there was a middle piece that would provide connections to the arms as well. Even the gauntlets were included in this circle. The third circle was the lower half of the armor, from the waist down. In the final circle was Alorans sword.

Lani watched Aloran go to each circle, participating in the ritual to bring the equipment to life and naming them. The chest piece was next.

"I dub thee Amaya, after my first and only love. I hope you will protect my heart as she once did, and be as spirited as she once was."

The waist-down armor came third. "I dub thee Moren, after my first and truest friend. Skilled in the arts of magic and running away, I hope you will grant me your strength and speed. Though he was always afraid, he never hesitated to run towards danger when I needed him most. Despite the quivering."

Fourth and finally was a massive sword, larger even than Aloran himself. "I dub thee Jasmine, after my sister. She protected me when our parents passed away, and stuck by my side her whole life, continuing to protect me from the enemies I was too dense to see myself. I hope you will protect me as she once did, and cut the enemies down that she always chastised me for missing."

Finally, he took a step back, smiling sadly and looking at them all at once.

Lani was very new to the world, but already… he wanted to protect Aloran. Perhaps it was the ritual that manipulated the way his mind formed, but Lani felt it in his bones. Aloran was alone, and Lani wanted to be there for him.

Aloran was a God, and Lani would be by his side forever.

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