Gods - vast entities of unimaginable strength. To the masses, they are myths and legends, beings whose powers are beyond imaginations. For some, objects of their fate, their reason to live - to serve them. But for those who know more, they are simply powerful individuals - immortal and indifferent.

  Throughout history, gods have inspired devotion, worship, and sometimes, fanaticism.Simply put, every known god-like person has their own believers – less or more. But for every benevolent follower, there exists a zealot—a worshiper who turns faith into obsession. Among these, none are more feared than the Cult of the Eternal Reaper.

  The Eternal Reaper, or as cultists whisper in reverence, the God of Death, is a name shrouded in mystery. Unlike other gods, he neither demands offerings nor craves mortal worship. In truth, he does not care at all - he remains unaware of his followers' existence. Yet, his absence only fuels the cult's determination.

  They found the first fragments of his legend in ancient ruins: inscriptions detailing his path and power. That was the starting point of their fanaticism - madness, that will soon threaten the whole universe.

  At the time, the Reaper was an unknown god, without any believers. They wanted to change that, to make him the most worshipped god in the universe. That’s how much they’ve become fascinated by him.

  A cult had been built, with the three of them in charge. At the beginning, the Reaper was an unknown god, without any believers, but the legend of the God of Death grew quickly and had soon become popular.

  But that was only the beginning. As the cult grew, their fanaticism grew the same way. Making their god known wasn't satisfying them anymore, they wanted more - to annihilate anyone who didn't believe in him.

  They went silent for years, leaving the existence of the cult in hands of others, making the most evil ritual ever known to mankind - a semi-intelligent spell designed to sacrifice every non believer, and even the lower believers, to the God of Death.

  ***

  “Addvvaaaaaance!!!!”

  General of the alliance put out a glorious scream as the walls were falling down, under the constant pressure from joint effort of alliance trebuchets and cooperating powers of all the mages with ritualists.

  A united army of many races, kingdoms and religions become an unstoppable force, pushing through created holes and completely decimating the defenders. Huge Colossans on the front line with angles and manaborns supporting them from behind. Elf archers firing dozens of arrows over the walls of enormous citadel - a central base of the cult, located on a death scorched planet, deep in the uncivilised space.

  Information about prepared mass ritual reached out of the cult and the rest of the universe responded immediately. Creating unprecedented alliance, connecting every race to fight for their future.

  The cult spread in the past year extremely fast, selling the Reaper as the God of War and the strongest warrior ever. Only the core members worship him as God of Death.

  But little do they know that the Angel of Death is more. He’s not only God of Death nor God of War, he’s both and even more. Death is an inseparable aspect of his path - path of the battle maniac.

  And even less do they know that they’re not the only ones worshipping the Reaper, although aspects of beliefs of these two sides defy each other. Unfortunately, for the cultists, the other group doesn’t tolerate any misbehavior in the name of their patron.

  ***

  POV: General

  We must be getting near to the hearth of their citadel. The defenders are stronger, and their determination to stop us here is admirable. Their desperation costs us a lot of lives, it is always hard to fight against people who don't care about their lives.

  A messenger approaches me, bow and starts spitting.

  “Sir, resistance on our left wing strengthened, we may need some assistance to break through.”

  “Your majesty, could some of your witches help our left wing?”

  The Divine Seraph - mistress of the angels beckon to one of the angels, female with crimson wings, standing behind her.

  The witch made a small bow towards her mistress and began to follow the messenger back to the battlefield.

  “Should we perhaps send more of our elite troops to the front? We can’t afford to be late and something is telling me, with this pace, we might not make it in time.”

  I feel the mistress's concerned gaze on my back as she speaks to me.

  “Your majesty, my guts are telling me the same thing, we have to hurry up. May you please send more of your witches to the front line? It would be a great help, to speed up things.”

  I get no answer, but five witches disconnect from the mistress’s escort.

  As I was about to make a decision, our enemy did it instead of me.

  The core disciples went out - the strongest people the cult have, only their masters and founders of the cult are stronger, but the army won’t have to deal with them… they'll be yield by our strongest individuals. Still, a couple of these guys can decimate our attack in no time.

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  “King, you’re up.”

  “It’s about time, general. Isn’t it?... I was starting to get bored.”

  King Destroyer, the strongest king among our race. No one ever attacked his kingdom after his bloody rise through the weaker rulers. Now he is excited to fight… I don’t envy those cultists, I really don’t.

  He bash through them like a cannonball, leaving no one alive until he reaches the core disciples - they stop him. As much as I’m surprised, they really stop him. He is not able to hit any of the six of them. The King's arrival on the battlefield raised and restored the morale of our soldiers. They try to assist him as much as they can, but honestly, they are pretty useless and being slain by the core disciples one after another.

  As much as is this fight epic, it has to end fast. King is the strongest warrior I’ve ever seen, but even he can’t withstand this bullying from those extremely fast disciples. He can’t hit them with his heavy swings and they can’t really hurt him - his skin is as thick as the best armours are, but they can exhaust him for sure, and those are just smaller flies, real challenge will come after them.

  “Your majes-”

  I was about to ask her to send some witches to help our King, when they came out.

  Masters of the cult, second under the founders. There are two of them, both are identical to each other. Bald tattooed heads, red, sharp eyes with hateful gaze in them, muscular in sleeveless robes.

  By that time, all common soldiers from both sides already backed up, leaving only the King, twin Masters and to make it worse, even the annoying disciples.

  The Divine Seraph steps up. With her support, this fight might be possible. But the cultists aren’t dumb, they know that too. Their disciples disengage from their clash with the King and rush toward the mistress.

  She got the witches around her and other soldiers are trying to help too, but they’re just mere, weak mortals. But even then, they help to release the strain from the mistress a bit… still she now can’t give the needed support to the King, helping her own bodyguards not to die and protect herself.

  I turn to the elves commander.

  “Focus the salvo of our archers onto the mistress and her guards!”

  The commander of manaborns is next. He already waits for my commands.

  “ I don’t know what, but do something with those damn twins. Slow them, weaken them, blind them - no matter the cost of ingredients, destroy all of our reservoir crystals if you have to, just to disadvantage them.”

  A deep hurtling step into the air - first salvo of arrows heading to the Divine Seraph and the cult disciples.

  All of her guards become protected by a see through golden shield like the mistress herself, avoiding all the arrows.

  But it is too soon to celebrate, the disciples doge most of the arrows and those who hit, doesn’t seem to cause any materfull trouble. Each of the disciples have dozens of arrows stuck in them, yet they seem unbothered by it.

  In between, the King is having a hard time, defending himself from coordinated attacks of twin masters. He does have just a little, to no time to counter attack. The wounds are stacking on him even with the blessing from Divine Seraph, while only one of the twins is mildly hurt.

  We are losing on all lines now. The mistress might be ok, she and her guards are holding ground against the disciples, although she is no warrior, her supporting powers are priceless, but even she can not defend herself and support the King.

  “SOLDIERS!” I scream from the top of my lungs with my sword aiming towards the stars.

  “IT IS NOW, OR NEVER! WE HAVE TO CHANGE THIS STALEMATE TO OUR WIN. WE MIGHT DIE. IT’S VERY LIKELY THAT WE WILL DIE. BUT OUR SACRIFICE WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN, OUR HEROISM OF SAVED UNIVERSE WILL BE REMEMBERED.”

  All fighting stops, eyes are on me, I have full attention of my army. Only the two fights are continuing.

  “GATHER YOUR COURAGE, DRAW YOUR WEAPONS AND PREPARE YOU TEETH TO TEAR APART YOU ENEMY IF NEEDED.”

  “MY SOLDIERS, ADVANCE!!!”

  A united scream from millions of mouths of my soldiers covers the battlefield, making the two continuing battles pause for a second, its contenders looking for the source of the screams.

  A wave made from soldiers of all races blow over me with glorious screams towards our enemies.

  In the faces of the leftovers of cultists' army is visible fear, but they hold the line.

  I join the soldiers in the attack, leading it towards the cultist disciples.

  Helping King directly would be counterproductive, we would be just simply destroyed between him and the masters.

  Best way we can help him is by reducing the stress on the Divine Seraph, so she can support him with her powers.

  As we get closer to the disciples, massacre begins. They cut through our common forces with ease, not really sweating, but there are millions of us, they are only six. We have the numbers and we have to use it to our advantage, even for the price of death of thousands.

  Soon, all the soldiers in front of me are reduced to pieces and bloody mist. Now it’s my turn to buy us some time.

  We lock eyes with the nearest disciple. He recognize me.

  There’s no rush in his approach, but soon, our swords meet - his short sword, with mine long sword. As we lock our swords, we look in the eyes again. He is nearly half of my size, most people, when they get into a fight with someone from our race, get intimidated by our size, but not him. There is absolutely no fear in his eyes.

  None of us are stronger, but he is faster. The short sword in his hands is deadly, landing multiple hits on me. Thanks to my armour, I’m like a tank and most of the hits get caught by it, but not all. Slowly, the time I’m buying for us is shortening.

  The storm of slashes ends. He prepares for a big slash from my left side. I can’t dodge it nor parry it - there’s no time for it, he’s too fast. I grab my sword with my left hand by the blade to block it.

  He swings.

  And my right arm fall of my body.

  He stopped his swing and redirected it, to cut off my right arm in the shoulder.

  This is the end.

  My last look fell on the King Destroyer.

  The time slows down, all the colours fade out.

  Three extremely strong presences appear behind, in between the army.

  There is no calm in the cultists disciple's eyes anymore… only fear, fear of what will come.

  Then something made him disappear, leaving just a red mist behind. It was fast, but I think it was a hammer… big hammer.

  The time influencing effect disappears.

  I am a big colossan, but the guy standing beside me is a head bigger. Shirtless, only his abnormally big muscles defend him, but I bet they are stronger than my armour. He looks like a beast. A thick hornet helmet and black gloves are the only things on his upper body. There’s the last thing - his weapon. He got it in the right hand. It’s enormous, yet, he holds it like nothing. Approximately three meters long thick shaft, with a massive hammerhead on the end, leftovers of the cultists disciple stuck on it - that’s the hammer I saw.

  Then he move, running at the remaining disciples. He’s faster than them. It is pure massacre.

  The two other persons rush at the twins, who were fighting with our king. They’re both scratched, but not heavily injured.

  The King Destroyer is on the other hand heavily injured, but without help of the Divine Seraph, which we ensured, he would be dead.

  The two newcomers take each of the masters one on one. The fight takes a few minutes, but it’s clear from the start who got the upper hand and soon, the twins are dead. One taken down by a black swordsman. The second one is decimated by some kind of mage, fighting in close combat.

  I pick up my unwillingly detached hand and go to visit the mistress of angels. She looks exhausted, surrounded by her crimson winged witches.

  They let me in, and she, without any words, heal my arm. The King is heading towards us from his battlefield, with the black swordsman following him in respectful distance, and stopping before reaching us.

  The King is healed by the mistress too.

  “Who are they?”