The two young people did not know what to say as the God of the Underworld strode toward them.

“No, I’m not going to kill you, and yes, she’s dead.” He pointed a finger at Clara. “And you’re still alive... barely.” He then pointed at Izan. “Oh, and yes. This is the Underworld and blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I already know you’ll have questions, and besides not having much time, I don’t want to answer them. Especially if they’re stupid questions.”

“So what is all of this about?” the young woman asked bluntly.

“See? That’s exactly the kind of stupid question I was talking about.”

He said the last part while speaking off to the side, as if someone else were standing there, before turning his attention back to the two of them.

“If I came here, it’s because I’m going to explain things to you. Or rather, I will explain them to him.” He pointed at Izan with one long purple finger. “You, girl, are an unavoidable guest.”

Clara was about to complain about being called a girl but managed to hold herself back at the last moment. If this being really was a god, as he claimed, then he was just as powerful and important as the gods who had summoned them to that world. Besides, his appearance sent chills down her spine.

Izan glanced at his friend and, determined, descended the stairs toward the man.

“I understand. Please, explain everything to me.”

The God of the Underworld smiled and looked deeply into him with completely black eyes.

“I’ll be quick,” he began. “I can’t stay here for long without attracting the attention of the other gods. There are things you’ll have to discover with time, or you’ll learn them when we meet again.”

The boy nodded, giving him his full attention.

“This place is called the Dark Palace. It exists in a different dimension. You could say it lies in the limbo between the Underworld and Deivas.”

The God of the Underworld walked across the great hall as he spoke hurriedly.

He waved his hands through the air, creating golden flames that formed images illustrating his story, much like the way spell words appeared when magic was cast.

“Thousands of years ago, the gods made a Pact to prevent ourselves from directly influencing the world. But that agreement wasn’t made of some noble concern for mortals. We had to do it because our differences were destroying everything in a constant struggle for control.”

Clara, who had moved closer to Izan, remembered similar words the Goddess of the Stars had told her, although the woman’s version had been different.

Humanoid figures appeared in the air, fighting against one another.

“The desire for power is inherent to the gods. We were born wanting to rule, so peace was never possible,” the God of the Underworld continued. “That is why, along with the Pact, it was decided that the domains would be divided among us and that a God of Gods would be chosen.”

The deity glanced toward the outside of the palace and began speaking even faster.

“The God of Gods rules over the others for a thousand years, or until the majority of them reject his rule and begin a new contest to determine who will take his place.”

“A contest?” Izan interrupted. “You mean they fight again?”

“Yes, but not them.” He pointed at the two of them. “You do. The Heroes.”

Clara and Izan exchanged nervous glances, but before they could ask anything else, the God of the Underworld continued.

“Each god chooses a Hero from another reality to represent them, thus beginning the Theomachy.” He took a deep breath, anticipating their questions. “And yes, a Hero has to come from another world because the Pact forbids the gods from favoring mortals from Deivas. Let’s say the gods found a loophole in the rules.”

Many questions were forming in Izan’s mind, but what caught his attention most was the way the God of the Underworld seemed to exclude himself from some of his peers’ decisions.

“For millennia, the gods have entertained themselves by playing their little battles with slaves,” he spat the words out angrily. “And while they do whatever the hell they want in Deivas... they chained me to the damn Hell!”

He shouted in fury, causing the entire Dark Palace to tremble. But he immediately calmed himself and looked outside through the doors with concern.

“I can’t leave the Underworld. If I try, they’ll come to destroy me. Gods can’t die like mortals, but our bodies can still be wounded and torn apart... but that doesn’t matter right now,” he said, turning his attention back to Izan. “When a god chooses a Hero, they can grant them a blessing. You already know that. But they couldn’t grant you one.”

He nodded, remembering the disappointed expression of the god who had given him no power.

“They couldn’t because I had chosen you first,” the God of the Underworld declared with a smile. “Even though I’m imprisoned here, I’m still a god, and by right, I can participate in my brothers’ twisted games.”

“Why me?” Izan felt compelled to ask.

The god sighed at the question but inwardly admitted that, at least, it was a valid one.

“My domains encompass everything related to death, and your soul was the one closest to death among your group,” he stated. “I’m not saying you were about to die, but your emotions and thoughts brought you closer to that thin line between life and death than the others.”

Izan did not know how to interpret those words. He certainly did not feel proud of them, but he recognized that, for many years, he had found little meaning in his own life. Although he had hoped that someday he would feel alive again, his thoughts and soul had existed in a constant darkness.

The boy did not dare turn around to look at Clara, who was staring sadly at the back of his head.

“And since I can’t leave this place, I was only able to grant you my blessing when you were on the verge of death,” the god continued. “The Dark Palace exists within you, and only you and the souls you collect will be able to enter it.”

When he mentioned the souls, the God of the Underworld pointed at Clara, then approached Izan and stopped directly in front of him.

The deity stood eight feet ten inches tall, but in front of the young man, he seemed even more imposing, like a colossal, intimidating giant.

“I granted you the power of Soul Weaving. You will obtain the memories and abilities of every soul that enters the Dark Palace. Your strength will depend on death itself, just as mine does.”

The God of the Underworld extended his long fingers around Izan’s face and continued.

“You will have to devour death itself to collect a soul. There is no other way.”

His words sounded ominous.

“The moment you entered this world, you were all condemned to die. No Hero survives for long, and none has ever returned to their original world. Not even those who have won the gods’ filthy game... but I will give you the chance to live and, perhaps, return.”

Izan returned his gaze with one that was cold, almost furious.

Only one question crossed his mind: Why was someone who had constantly wanted to give up on life the one who had been given a chance to live?

It wasn’t fair.

The god glanced at Clara, whose expression was one of resignation and fear, before finishing:

“I am the God of the Underworld. As long as a soul remains within the Dark Palace, it means it has not yet fully reached Hell. In other words, it is not too late.”

“Are you saying Clara can come back to life?”

“It won’t be easy, but it is possible.” His expression changed completely, becoming serious and stern. “Win the Theomachy, destroy those damned gods, and free me. Only then will I be able to return everything they stole from us.”

At that moment, the flame of anger became a fire of hope as well, and Izan nodded with determination.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good.” He smiled. “I’d like to provide you more information, but time is running out. If the other gods find out I’m here, they’ll come immediately to kill you. And the closer you get to them, the harder it will be for me to contact you here. Even so, I’m sure we’ll have another chance to meet later.”

The God of the Underworld released Izan and hurried away from the great hall of the Dark Palace. The heels of his boots echoed through the empty chamber.

“You’ll figure out how to use this place,” he said as he passed through the great doorway. “I’m sure it’ll surprise you. You should furnish it a little. You can control almost everything that happens inside.”

“Wait!” Izan shouted.

The god stopped dead, his back still turned to them. Izan was fortunate not to see the expression of rage twisting across his face at the audacity of a mortal giving him an order. Even so, he restrained himself.

“To collect the souls of my friends, do I have to eat their corpses? Is there no other way?” he asked hopefully.

The god turned his head slightly and shot him a piercing glare.

“The heart safeguards the soul. But if you want access to the deepest memories, eat the brains as well.”

The deity turned, took two steps, and stopped once more.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re the Hero I chose. If you ever disrespect me again by giving me orders, I will destroy you.”

After those words, he vanished into thin air, leaving behind a cloud of purple smoke that lingered for a few seconds.

Izan and Clara looked at each other for a full minute.

Silence reigned until the boy finally dropped to the floor and burst into laughter, completely surprising his friend.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked worriedly.

“Nothing. It’s just that all of this sounds like some stupid joke,” he replied. “Gods? Magic? Dimensions? It’s all too stupid and unreal. I think I really am crazy.”

“Well, when you put it that way... I mean, supposedly I’m dead, and I’m talking to you.”

Clara sighed and sat down behind her friend, resting her back against his. She stretched out her legs and felt the tension in her muscles.

“I’m dead... but everything feels so real. Honestly, yes, all of this is pretty stupid.”

Izan shifted more of his weight against his friend’s back, wanting to feel the contact, and then bit his lower lip.

“But what the god said is true.”

“What?”

“I have no motivation to live. If I kept going all this time, it was because of your words and your strength.” He swallowed and continued. “My mother’s death was what finally destroyed the little desire I had left to keep living. I have no dreams or goals. I kept moving forward because of your support and the hope that one day things would change. And look at me now. Everything is worse.”

“Iza...”

“So it doesn’t matter if all of this is crazy,” Izan interrupted her. “At least now I have a goal to reach. I have a reason to live. I’m going to give back everything you’ve given me.”

“You don’t have to do any—”

“I will bring you back to life, Clara,” he declared firmly. “I'll do it.”

Izan’s eyes shone with determination and a strength of will he had never thought he possessed.

After those words, everything around them began to fade as if swallowed by a dense mist. Little by little, the fog disappeared, giving way to reality.

The sunlight struck his face, and he found himself back in the pit beside his friend’s corpse. But this time, a wide smile spread across his face, and his eyes shone with determination beneath the strands of hair falling over them.

He felt around in the mud for the knife he had used to cut Clara’s flesh. When he found it, he lifted it and stared at it intently.

“So... the hearts,” he said, ready to eat.