Once more, Allegra snaps up out of the water and breathes in the air. The pool is the same in its shallowness and size, but the smooth marble room has been replaced by cold concrete and dim lamplight. A faint glow comes from around the corridor.

Chaos whips his curls out of his face and climbs out of the pool. Julius shakes the water from his fur, bombarding everyone else with it instead. The expression on his face almost looks smug, as if it’s more than just canine instincts. Allegra grins at his ability to turn any stressful situation into something to crack a smile over.

For a crypt, the roof stretches at least twenty feet above one’s head. Statues of angels and saints and martyrs line the hallway, and yet, there is no sign of the four deities-- that is, until they peer around the corner. Wendy grasps the crimson handle of her sword with an iron grip, but her other hand shakes. Lynx takes it into her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. There are more souls here than she can count, maybe even more than she can handle.

The hallway leads to a large, round room, with a tall silhouette in front of the glowing threshold at the end. Some moments, the threshold emits a flash of bright light; others, it dims and leaves the room darkened. The ticking of a grandfather clock seems to echo through the halls every few minutes.

“I think that’s our guy,” Orien says. “Chaos, Calamity, this is your fight. Go ahead.”

The twins take careful steps down the hall until they reach the circular room. Chronum reaches his hand out, pocket watch dangling from his fingers. “Come into the light,” he shouts, hearing their footsteps. “And your soul will be judged.” His appearance matches the illustration at the altar-- the greying locs, the solemn face conveying order-- and yet, he stands without balance, pacing and craning his neck as he watches the two shadows enter the light. He kneels the moment he sees their faces. “My sons…”

The twins stay silent. Calamity keeps a firm grip on Chaos’s shoulder.

“Please, come closer. Being limited to this room means I haven’t seen your faces in so long. I’ve been waiting for you-- waiting for you to find me, and let me teach you how to be what you’re destined for.”

“We’re not here for a lesson,” Calamity says. “But we’re not here for a fight, either.”

“Nor am I. What have you come for, then?”

Chaos takes a long, deep breath. “Your insolence is endangering people. You need to return to Genus, Lumen, and Necros before you hurt anyone else.”

“Damian, Jericho, when have I ever hurt you?”

“When you tied us to one another with a crow’s helpless soul,” Chaos says. “When you created two orphans who had to roam the streets and steal to survive.”

“And you are both stronger because of it, are you not?”

“You have hurt millions. If you really love your sons, please-- recognize that what you’re doing is wrong.”

Chronum scoffs. “What do you gain from worrying about the struggles of man? Boys, you can be so much more. And I can teach you.”

“I don’t want to be more!” Calamity shouts. “Chronum, you are not just our father, you are a father to mankind. And you’ve abandoned it. The world needs you-- but not like this. Not as the judge, jury and executioner who stands at the gate, deciding who gets reborn and who’s left roaming the earth.”

Chronum returns to his feet. He emits a dry grin and a chuckle. “When I lived among my creation, I watched fathers argue with their daughters and mothers scold their sons for acting out of turn. My boys are different, I thought. They will never have to fall into meager habits like bickering and mischief. He drops his pocket watch onto the tile floor. The glass face shatters. The room goes dim as low growls, hisses, and shrieks swell up into the air. “But looking at you now, I see my mistake.”

Feeling a warm breath on the back of his neck, Chaos pulls a knife from his pocket. “Damian,” he says, “is a name as old as time. It’s derived from a word meaning “to tame”. Jericho references a beautiful, moonlit city. That’s what you want, right? Two men made in your image, living in a utopian world, ready to stand above mankind and tame it?” He drills his knife into the beast behind him. Its body shrivels. “I hope our names are evidence enough that we will never fulfill your destiny for us.”

Julius barrels down the hallway and catches a large, batlike beast by its neck. The crunching of its bones gives everyone a shiver, but as soon as its breath stops, the threshold flashes a bright white. Allegra shoots two bullets over Chronum’s head and he flinches.

“Keep him busy!” Allegra says among the beasts’ shouting and screeching. She handles the smaller creatures while Wendy, Orien and Lynx tag team the larger ones. When fighting in tandem, Wendy and Orien have a sort of electricity to their combat; some slashes of their swords act in perfect tandem. Even if their relationship was a fleeting moment in time, their combat styles are clearly interconnected.

With Chronum distracted, the souls are able to pass through the threshold. The occasional, distracting flash is worth the value of a life being reborn after years of corruption and torment. The bright light catches Chronum off guard and one of his beasts trips him. He kneels to the ground with a tremendous thud.

Chronum catches a knife thrown at him by Chaos, sending it back in the twins’ direction. He aims not to strike either of them, but his calculation fails; the blade gashes Calamity’s side. Chronum’s eyes widen and his eyes dart around frantically. Calamity looks at his bloody palm, then up at his father with seething rage, but also disappointment. He prods mankind for its petty behaviors, yet here he stands, partaking their worst sin-- hatred.

Chronum climbs to his feet. He calls back his beasts and the room falls silent. “Son… I--”

“You what?”

“I ask-- I beg for your forgiveness. This does not have to be settled in a fight.”

Gripping his side, Calamity gazes at his brother. The feeling growing within his chest is hardly rage; he wants to see the good in his father, but it’s unfortunate that it took an assault on one of his sons to get Chronum to realize his mistakes. He may be a deity, but his mortal creation has far more conviction than he has ever carried. “Then beg.”