You Already Won

The Spiral Tower loomed before him, jutting from the scorched stone of Delark like a fossilized claw. Pale gold veins pulsed along its surface, swirling in patterns that never repeated, flickering like they were remembering equations too old for any mortal tongue.

It wasn't built—it had grown. Each segment of its twisted, alien frame floated half-detached from the next, like a spine pulled apart and then stitched together by forces that didn't care about the laws of physics. The tower sang softly, though no ear could follow the tune.

Caelus scoffed at the sight. Definitely Outlander influence. If so, then the rumors might be true—most of the Supreme Heads and Kings could have started as Outlanders. A lot of things added up to support that theory. Other things… didn't. How they'd supposedly existed since the beginning of time, for instance.

He shook his head. He was always trying to crack the lore of any game he got into. Only this wasn't a game, and lives were at stake.

He turned to his two companions—both Natives. They didn't speak a word of French and not much English, but that didn't matter. They weren't NPCs. They had put their trust in him, and he wouldn't treat that lightly.

"You have any gods you want to talk to?" he asked.

Both shook their heads.

Though his system was gone, it had embedded fragments in him that handled enough translation to get the meaning across, even if the words themselves were clumsy. Caelus nodded once.

"I won't be long."

The door to the tower cracked open—not with hinges or mechanics, but with space folding in on itself.

Inside was no more normal than the outside. Caelus stepped into a structure that was both narrow and infinite. Gravity seemed confused. Angles bled into each other. Corners twisted where no corners should be.

In the center, suspended on nothing, floated a single obsidian disc, as wide as a carriage wheel.

Caelus walked over without hesitation and stepped onto it. The disc accepted his weight with a low, resonant hum. Then, without warning, it rose, pulling him upward into the spiraling abyss.

It slowed to a halt.

Silence reigned as Caelus rose into a vast white expanse. The space stretched endlessly in all directions, but overhead—up in a sky that wasn't a sky—black stars shimmered like flecks of ink on a blank page.

There was no ground. No air. Yet Caelus could breathe.

No voice greeted him. No system screen appeared. No divine herald announced his arrival.

But he felt it.

Call out for your patron.

The instruction wasn't spoken—it bloomed inside his mind like instinct, like a memory he'd never had but had always carried.

He called.

Light bloomed from nowhere.

It began as a faint shimmer in the blank expanse—like frost catching the first hint of dawn. The shimmer deepened into threads of silver-gold, weaving themselves through the white until a shape emerged: a tall, serene figure robed in layers of gauzy luminance that shifted like wind over still water.

Her face was veiled, not in shadow, but in a thin film of light so soft it seemed spun from moonlight itself. Only the faint curve of her lips and the suggestion of eyes glimmered through. Her hair—long, pale, and faintly radiant—drifted in slow motion, as if it moved through some gentler gravity than his own. Every motion she made was measured, patient, deliberate.

The goddess carried no weapon. No crown. Yet the space around her was… unyielding not in force, but in the quiet certainty.

Familiane, the Veiled Luminara. Patron of discipline and gentle light. A goddess of quiet mercy.

Caelus felt the tension in his shoulders ease before he realized he'd been holding it. Relief sank into his bones. He had half-expected this to take days, maybe longer, especially with most of the towers in the region reduced to ruin after that cataclysmic battle between the dark entity and the golden Outlander. Those two hadn't just destroyed towers—they'd scarred the land itself.

Now, here she was.

He didn't want to keep Eirian waiting, and the thought of returning to her with clearer guidance was enough to draw a genuine smile across his face. With Familiane here, they could set a true course forward.

Familiane's veiled face turned toward him, a faint curve touching her lips.

"You seem happy to see me, Caelus."

He gave a small laugh, breath misting in the strange, endless white. "I am. Wasn't sure how things would go after I lost my connection to you."

Her expression darkened—just enough for the veil of light to sharpen like frost over glass. "That is because of Vari's poisonous tongue."

Caelus frowned. "Can't you use your divine abilities to counter her corruption?"

"It's not so simple," she said, her voice soft but layered with weight. "Vari is Supreme to divinity. She works several tiers above it. Her actions are not mere choices—they are closer to absolute truths than plain actions."

He tilted his head, blue hair sliding against his cheek. "There are those with absolute truths?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "The Kings."

Something in his gut twisted. The knowledge felt heavier than it should. He exhaled slowly, then asked, "What should Eirian and I do?"

She smiled again, but it was the kind of smile that promised no comfort—only certainty. "Forget about the gems."

That made his brow knit. "Forget about the—? No. The gems are why—"

She raised a hand and the space stilled around him. "You will work with Civen. Doing so will bring victory and glory not just to you and Eirian, but to me as well."

Caelus hesitated, then nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced.

"There's more," Familiane said, her voice dropping into something colder. "You need to kill Vari's Jujisn. Now while you still have the advantage. Though your true target will be Rituian's Jujisn."

His eyes narrowed. "Jujisn?"

"The unenlightened version of a Supreme. A Supreme Being in its infancy," she explained.

"And how does that work?"

"That," she said, "is beyond even me. But you have Vari's Jujisn in custody. End her before she Ascends."

Caelus's jaw tightened. "Killing someone in cold blood… I don't know if—"

"It will be for the benefit of the realms," she interrupted, each word deliberate. "If you do not, she will become a threat no force can contain. As for Rituain's Jujisn. In the threads I saw… it is a beast that will, in time, devour me."

Her voice echoed in the white expanse, and though the words were calm, Caelus felt the gravity of them pressing into his bones.

"So basically," Caelus said slowly, "forget the gems and go on a hunt for these… junior—."

"Jujisn," Familiane corrected, the syllables sharp yet elegant. "And yes. Civen will have enough points for you to pass. Her goal is to see Vari's Jujisn dead—which you can accomplish now. Doing so will incline her to aid you in slaying Rituain's Jujisn."

He crossed his arms. "What about the people with us? We're traveling with tens of thousands of civilians."

"Have Eirian enter another tower," Familiane said without hesitation. "I will teleport them to a safe haven within my domain. It will only work once, and I can move mere thousands easily."

Caelus's gaze sharpened. "That still leaves tens of thousands—"

"Those beyond my reach will have to be entrusted to the mortals who can lead them," she said. "Your task is not to shepherd all, but to ensure the survival of everyone, that's what matters most."

He exhaled through his nose. "You make it sound like killing these "Jujisns" ends all problems. Seems more like you're saving your own hide over others." He paused. "That doesn't seem like you."

Familiane's eyes glimmered like candlelight behind her veil. "It is more than that. If Vari's Jujisn Ascends, she will inherit the same tier of truth Vari commands. You will not be able to stop her. I will not be able to stop her."

Caelus hesitated. "…You're asking me to execute someone we've taken prisoner. That's not proper battle customs. On top of a person I never met before. When did we start doing bounties?"

"It is prevention," she replied simply. "Prevention of a future where your name is ash in the wind and your people's memory is nothing but shadow."

He looked away, jaw tight. "And if I refuse?"

"You will still be my champion," she said softly. "But you will watch the realm rot from within, and know you could have ended it before it began."

"Well…"

"Furthermore, if I am to pass, that will greatly affect your standing in the realms. I still plan on fulfilling my obligations when you become Rankers."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The white expanse around them felt heavier, as if the space itself was leaning on him. Finally, Caelus sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I guess the level of power… makes sense she's a Juju—Jujisn. And how would I even find Rituian's Jujisn?"

"You still see names and titles. They will have the title of " Higher Status".

"Wouldn't that piss off the Family Heads? I would tend to believe that these Jujisn are off limits."

She shook her head slowly. "They became fair play once they joined the Fortune Holder. All those involved are on equal footing."

He thought it over and sighed. "…Fine. I'll do it. But I won't enjoy it."

"I do not require your joy, Caelus," she said with a faint, knowing smile. "Only your resolve."

Caelus shifted his weight, eyes narrowing. "Can you bring any lesser gods or something for the rest of the civilians? If I'm going to step outside my morals, I at least want to make sure I have a damn good pay-off. And any failure—I want it on me, not Eirian."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Familiane's veiled face tilted ever so slightly, a quiet chuckle slipping from her lips. "So kind, my champion. Even vouching for my other champion without hesitation." She pauses for a moment. "I shall also have my lesser deities help move the masses." She folded her hands, the gold-threaded sleeves of her robe shimmering in the white void. "Besides, the only thing that will happen if you fail is your death. And that is not a threat, Caelus—it is a certainty. If the Jujisns survive, we will all die."

The words lingered in the stillness like frost on his skin. He let them settle before asking, "What about the Fractured Heir? Causing the Unraveling… is that also a Jujisn?"

She nodded her head, her voice calm but absolute. "That Jujisn is meant for someone else. You, however, will be enough—with my help—to defeat Rituian's Jujisn."

His brows pulled together. "How?"

Familiane extended one hand, palm up. "Your blade."

He hesitated, then placed it in her grasp. Her fingers brushed the hilt, and light poured from beneath her veil—soft, layered, powerful. The weapon drank it in, its steel shifting until faint veins of silver-gold ran along the edge, pulsing with a heartbeat.

"With this blessing," she said, "you can kill beings in seven strikes."

He gave a low whistle. "The rainbow blade?"

Her head tilted in puzzlement. "Rainbow?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Just an old show I watched once… with a slime."

Her silence told him she didn't get it. He sighed, sheathing the weapon. "Alright. Time to get moving to the next part."

"Safe travels," she said, her form already fading into the white expanse. "And be cautious, Caelus. Your path will not be without cost."

He nodded. And then she was gone.

Descending the spiral once more, he felt the weight of his new mission pressing down on him. If the blood about to be spilled meant securing the safety of everyone he'd sworn to protect during this event… then at least it would have purpose.

Outside, his two companions stood at attention. Both wore blue cloaks traced with golden designs along the hoods. Xitgen—the one whose flame Ryun curled faintly around his shoulders—had a long, sinuous tail swaying behind him. Decfare, broader in build, had four blackened horns that made wearing the hood awkward at best.

They'd been loyal since the day he and Eirian first stepped into this land. They didn't speak much, but they listened—and, more importantly, followed.

Caelus summoned three silver steeds with a flicker of light, their manes flowing like mercury as they pawed at the scorched ground. Without a word, the three mounted up and began galloping back toward Danyel.

He spoke about his discussion with the goddess. He didn't lay out every detail of what had happened inside the tower. Some things were better kept between himself and Familiane. Six years—twelve Earth years—under her service had made him comfortable enough to speak casually with her, even joke. But she was still a god, and this had been the first time he'd pushed back against her.

He pushed that thought aside. "How do you both feel about killing the Jujisns?"

They exchanged a glance. Xitgen's tail twitched; Decfare's horns dipped slightly. Then Xitgen spoke first, his voice low. "We share the goddess's feelings."

Decfare's tone was harsher. "Vari's name alone is a curse where I come from. She's carved stories into our history in blood—famine without cause, rivers turned black, cities collapsing into dust. I've seen what her kind can do."

"And Rituain," Xitgen added, his voice tightening, "the great floods and hurricanes that swallowed entire galaxies… those were their lords work. Ending their lives isn't cruelty—it's mercy for the rest of us."

Caelus let out a long sigh. "Of course now you understand what I was saying."

The hooves of their silver steeds thundered against the broken earth, the sound a steady drumbeat beneath their words. The decision weighed heavier on him now—but at least he knew his companions were ready to see it through with him.

——

Destiny stirred, eyelids heavy and sore. Everything was still swollen—her arms, her face, even her throat. She tried to turn her head, but Ryun bindings with glyphs, bit into her wrists and ankles.

A basement.

She was tied up in a basement.

Huh.

How Jamal and Crisper had gotten away from that void freak was beyond her.

She scanned the dim room until her gaze froze on Jamal. He didn't speak—he didn't need to. His eyes locked on hers, the expression loud and clear: Pretend to be asleep.

Great. So they weren't safe.

Jamal flicked his eyes toward Danyel. The woman hadn't noticed yet, but she did notice him scrunching his nose. He played it off with a fake sneeze, but her brow furrowed. She started to glance toward Destiny's side of the room—

"Yo," Jamal cut in, his voice sharp enough to hook her attention. "Ya ever notice your hair got that whole smoker vibe? Or is that just me?"

Danyel's lips thinned. "Stop talking."

"See? There it is. You sound like you about to kick a puppy."

Her eyes narrowed.

Jamal decided, yeah—this wasn't working.

Crisper was still in some kind of self induced coma state. Seriously? Now of all times? He shook his head. Destiny was awake, banged up, but breathing. She'd have to pull her weight whether she liked it or not.

Because he couldn't shake it—that gnawing gut-deep certainty.

Once these people learned who Destiny was, it'd be the corner store all over again.

He needed a plan. Fast. And he needed to get it across to her without Danyel catching on.

And all of that had to happen before Caelus showed up.

Caelus—the super hero who everyone was glazing up—wasn't the kind of man Jamal wanted to square up against, not even at a hundred percent.

Which was the worst part: that feeling of knowing you're outgunned… hadn't hit him until he came here.

But his gut kept him alive so far, and right now it was screaming—

Time's almost up.

Danyel's glare lingered a little too long.

"You must be afraid," she said, voice low but edged.

Jamal snorted. "Afraid? Nah. If I was scared, I'd be sweating bullets. And didn't you just say don't talk?"

"You'll sing a different tune when Caelus arrives."

"Oh, Caelus." Jamal rolled the name in his mouth like it was sour. "Your golden boy? I'm supposed to be scared of a dude who practices heroic speeches in the mirror and cries when he messes up a line."

Her jaw clenched. "You'll regret saying that—"

"You know what's wild?" Jamal kept going, leaning forward just enough to feel personal. "You talk like he's some godsend, but every time you bring him up, you sound like you're begging me to care. You sure you he's even that great? Or you just a groupie hoe?"

"I—"

He cut her off again. "See? You can't even answer without stuttering. And here I thought you were the woman in charge. Guess you just stand here tryin to look scary until the real hitters show up."

The faint twitch in her eye became a tremor. Jamal could see it—his words getting under her skin, peeling away the control she liked to wear.

"You—"

"Me? Oh, baby, you're the one about to lose your life in front of the hostages. Go ahead, make it less obvious."

Her teeth ground together. Ryun began to hum faintly around her blade.

Destiny's eyes widened, but Jamal didn't flinch.

He tilted his head, grin widening. "There it is. Big bad jailer about to swing on a cuffed man. Real honorable. If these are Caldicks men… I can only assume how the prick himself is."

That was it.

Her anger boiled over, and with a snarl, Danyel launched herself at him—blade flashing white in the basement gloom.

Jamal dipped under the first swing, his gem flaring with a sharp purple light.

Pivot, spin—he blurred, phasing between micro-realities, leaving afterimages in his wake. Danyel's eyes narrowed, tracking him out of instinct, and went straight for the follow-up slash.

He planted his feet, locking in.

Ryun surged into his legs, arms, and eyes—his whole body syncing to the rhythm of her motion, his mind running three parallel plays in his head. Pass. Shoot. Drive.

He chose Drive. Speed ripped through his frame as he blinked past her shoulder—except she wasn't going to make it easy.

Her blade warped mid-swing, unraveling into a whip of pure white Ryun. It lashed around them, shredding the air into a whirlwind. Jamal threw his wrists into the storm, letting the searing strands cut into him just enough to break his cuffs. Pain tore through his arm—hot, sharp—but adrenaline drowned it in a heartbeat.

The speed buff still thrummed in his veins. His eyes tracked every twitch of her muscles, reading her like sheet music. She was damn good, but she wasn't the void girl—there was no alien unpredictability here. Still, her pressure was relentless. Every strike, every sweep of that whip-blade, chewed apart more of the basement.

Crisper got clipped by two passing strands, body jerking—but no response.

"Damn it…" Jamal hissed. His right arm hung heavy, the wound deep enough to make every movement throb. He was more banged up than he thought, and Crisper still wasn't moving.

Danyel's gaze sharpened—she saw the opening. Her blade coiled tight and shot forward in a lightning-quick thrust.

A beam of golden Ryun punched clean through her arm from the side. She froze in shock.

Jamal's grin cut across his face. With his good arm, he let Ryun surge, the Soulball materialized in his palm, swelling with compressed Ryun until the air warped around it. He drove it into the ground.

Gravity folded inward, sucking Danyel off her feet, the walls groaning as the pull ripped the basement apart. Then—backlash. She was hurled into the floor with a shockwave that cracked the concrete beneath her.

Danyel screamed, her long green hair whipping around her like a banner in a storm. The blue-orange of her robe was scorched and ragged, her purple eyes burning with raw fury.

She shot upright and locked on to Destiny—only to eat the heel of Jamal's foot. The blow snapped her head back, but her hand shot out like a viper, clamping around his leg. With a snarl, she hurled him through the wall. Plaster gave way to hard-packed dirt.

Danyel turned to grab her weapon—but another flash of golden Ryun seared toward her. She slipped past it and charged straight at Destiny.

Destiny watched her come. The world slowed, the air thick as honey.

I just got back. Dying's not on the table.

Vari's words rang in her head—how she was a force, feared, above consequence. A height. A challenge. And Destiny… was no lesser. She'd been holding back. Holding back this hunger that coiled in her chest.

If this was Unraveling, maybe it made sense. She needed to adapt. To stand above consequence, she'd have to survive it first.

Destiny inhaled, deep and steady, and let go of her old definition of herself. No theatrics. No name change. Just the shape she was meant to take. Her body loosened, like chains falling away.

Danyel was nearly on her.

Destiny smiled. Golden venom surged down her arms and legs, snapping the restraints like brittle twine. She exploded forward, closing the gap head-on.

Was it reckless? Absolutely. But she wasn't going to let one major loss become the whole story of who she was.

Danyel's fist crashed into Destiny's guard, the force snapping Destiny's arm back at an ugly angle. Pain flared white-hot, but Danyel didn't give her time to process it. She dropped onto her palms in a fluid, inverted motion, both legs whipping forward in a brutal scissor-kick.

The double strike caught Destiny square in the chest, launching her across the room. She smashed through a pillar, fragments exploding outward, and hit the wall hard enough to leave a cracked imprint before crumpling to the floor.

Danyel's hand flared with white Ryun, twisting into whip-like constructs that cracked through the air as she lashed them forward. Destiny pushed off the wall, ignoring the fire in her broken arm, and sprinted straight at her—pain be damned—wearing a feral grin.

Not enough, she thought.

Danyel faltered for a fraction of a second. The force she'd hit this girl with should have ended the fight. With those wounds, why wasn't she down? Why won't this girl die?

She snapped back to focus—too late. Jamal was suddenly behind her, arm locking tight around her neck. She reacted instantly, flipping him over her shoulder and hurling him into Destiny. The collision knocked the air from both of them and shattered Jamal's gem.

Destiny coughed hard, spitting blood. Jamal groaned, rolling halfway to his side. Danyel reclaimed her weapon, eyes narrowing. Enough. She stepped forward to end it—

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Her jaw slid off her face. Her scalp and skull burst apart in a spray of bone and brain, raining like grotesque confetti. She staggered, turning toward the sound.

Crisper sat slouched against the wall, pistol still raised, gaze half-lidded. Is that why she never noticed her?

Bang.

The final shot made Danyel's body seize, then drop in a twitching heap.

Jamal and Destiny both stared at Crisper.

Crisper met their eyes, calm as ever. "Well…. Now I have killed four of them, so I think we lost our grace period."

"Factualnonfiction," Jamal muttered through a groan, trying to push himself upright. "I'm tapped out, though."

Crisper exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that said she'd already been working harder than she wanted. "Figures."

She was moving before either of them could protest—digging into her UI kit, snapping open a compact medical module that unfolded like an origami box. Cool, sterile light bathed the basement as she pulled out a digital skeletal arm brace, a vial of pain suppressant, and a bone-knitter that hummed like an angry wasp.

"Both of you managed to break an arm?" she asked dryly, her tone somewhere between disbelief and mockery. "Seriously?"

Jamal just winced. Destiny offered a weak shrug.

Crisper worked quickly, bracing Destiny's arm first, the bone-knitter sending a soft pulse through her forearm. Then she jabbed a small injector into Jamal's bicep, the painkiller cooling his bloodstream almost instantly. In minutes, both of them had functional—if sore—limbs.

She didn't waste time admiring her work. A quick swipe through her UI and three barricades shimmered into existence around them, locking into place with a metallic hiss.

With another flick of her wrist, she tossed each of them a matte-black rifle and a couple of fresh mags. "Two each. Don't waste them."

For herself, she drew a sleek semi-auto, checking the mag with a practiced flick before sliding it home.

Then, tapping her ear, she murmured into an open channel, "This is Crisper. Evac requested, priority code black."

Destiny and Jamal glanced at her, then at each other.

"So listen to me," Crisper said, tone flat but eyes sharp as she checked her rifle's chamber. "You're both on your last legs. I've got almost no killstreaks left, my Ryun is low, so my ammo's trash-tier right now… and the Calmbrand is coming here. We are fucked. But—" she held up a finger, "pickup's in fifteen minutes. Once it's here, we should instantly spawn in." A pause. "Hopefully."

Jamal squinted. "Blood? Hopefully? Sista, I need a definitely. And wasn't you just out of it? What the hell was that?"

"At first yeah… then I just played it off until she let her guard down."

"Damn, blood you got me too."

Destiny slid a mag into her rifle with a clean, decisive motion. Jamal raised a brow. "Oh… you one of them girls."

She nodded.

"Can't talk, blood?"

Destiny shook her head, silver hair falling into her face. She shot those beams of Ryun with her mouth. Her jaw throbbed like hell, and she'd decided to funnel what healing she had into her limbs and brain instead. Words could wait.

Jamal gave the rifle a quick once-over. It wasn't his preferred weapon—he wished he had a Switch—but it'd do. He'd used something like it before.

Crisper exhaled, tension bleeding through despite her calm voice. Her head tilted toward the ceiling. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, from upstairs.

All three froze.

"Fifteen minutes," Crisper murmured. "With these odds…" She smirked, a humorless thing. "Yeah. We should be fine."

[Posted On Royal Road]