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What a relief. Germal was ready to lay back and whatever happened happen, since he wasn't in much condition to do anything else, but then Nerovoy was there, invoking the regeneration.

Stability and awareness began to return.

And Damian attacked Nerovoy.

That was it.

That was what Ettol needed.

Parson and Overra were fully on his side now. Even if he was still recovering, this battle was already won. Ettol knew it.

Closer than he would've liked, certainly. This troublesome trio. But they were fractured now.

Before long, Damian fled. He didn't put up much of a fight against Parson, probably because, even in his burgeoning madness, he still did not truly wish to harm the other man.

Or perhaps he could see what Ettol saw. His fight was lost.

Feromas gave chase. Not ideal. Ettol would've preferred he stay and become convinced by the new web that he was about to weave for the others, but oh well. Feromas would have to be a future project.

This wasn't over, of course. There was no doubt in his mind that they would meet again, but there would be plenty of time to prepare for that day.

Ettol had much to do...

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The illusory vision kept going for a while longer, and it took all of Parson's concentration to remain focused on it after the revelations about Germal's true nature. And about what had happened to Damian.

About everything. The culmination of their entire history together.

Jonah.

He showed them memories. As real and immersive as Parson and Damian were there themselves--and occasionally, they were. It was surely a strange thing, seeing their younger selves from Jonah's perspective.

But frankly, Parson didn't really need to see the rest. He remembered perfectly well himself.

After the breaking of their fellowship in this little ancient fortress, he'd encountered Damian several more times. But Jonah--or Ettol--had always been there, too, ensuring that every attempt at reconciliation failed.

So many lies.

Woven seamlessly into the truth.

Made utterly indistinguishable from one another.

But so much was slotting into place now.

Damian had tried to explain the truth to him. Couched in madness as he'd been, he'd still tried. But Parson had never been able to bring himself to believe him. He just seemed so far gone--and this Ettol, so reasonable by comparison.

By the time the vision concluded, Parson Miles had long since fallen to his knees.

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All wrong. Everything. Germal was floundering under the barrage of attacks. Desperately, he tried every different option that arose into his mind. Stop? Unaffected. Numb? Unaffected. Slow? Unaffected. Distract? Unaffected. Wipe? Unaffected. Break? Unaffected.

Of course not. Damian was already broken. Be smarter.

How? Damian was relentless. And had gotten the drop on him, besides. The man was not letting go of the upper hand, nor would he.

That look in his eyes. He had knowledge that he shouldn't. And he just kept talking. Smiling. Laughing.

"Even if you survive me here today, your loss is inevitable. Don't you see? Your struggles against oblivion are precisely what will doom you in the end. Because oblivion isn't even so. Your cowardice is exactly--"

On and on. A constant through the fighting. Germal reached out to Koh, but he already knew it was fruitless. The wolf helped only when he deigned to--and this was not one such occasion, apparently.

More nonsense. Useless thrall.

The domain was wavering now. Germal couldn't maintain it. The reapers would begin to regain awareness.

Agh, but perhaps that was good? With no context, maybe they would actually--

A truly solid blow landed on Germal's jaw, connecting far more deeply than mere flesh and bone.

Ettol felt it. The soul itself rattled.

He hit the ground and skid across the ancient stones. Blood smeared across his vision as he struggled for awareness. Germal? Ettol? Jonah?

Damian was there. Whaling on him again. He could scarcely even process that much, now. The world was blinking. Fading.

Was this death? Yet another failed incarnation? Ended prematurely?

Frustration was the only emotion in his mind. What a wasted opportunity.

But then it stopped. The pounding on his skull. His soul was still trembling, yes, but no longer in an exponential manner. It was calming again. His thoughts, settling. Awareness, returning.

This body was still far from ready to listen, though. He felt like a smear on the floor. And perhaps was--or little better than. If Damian had started using that mysterious ability of his, then that wouldn't be a surprise.

But he still heard fighting. Shouting. Familiar voices.

Reapers.

And Parson. The man had finally arrived. Even later than usual.

But still timely enough to save his life, apparently.

Germal couldn't make out what they were saying, but the unfolding scene was obvious enough even without such details. Damian was arguing, no doubt trying to convince Parson not to interfere.

But thankfully, the madness was there, too. And Parson was sharp enough. It must have been obvious to him.

Next page on the 9th

Thanks for reading, everyone.