"You are wrong. The god-king can't see beyond his kingdom. If he could, I would know. The intruders are not after you or me. They are just passing by on an expedition." The man observed without turning his head to look or search. "They are just a squad of demorgorgs walking without urgency. It seems they are out hunting for demons."
That calmed Tanya down a bit. The news that the operation is not exposed to the god-king is good news.
The man advised, "But you should go before they get here. They don't know about you yet so we should not make it so now."
"What about you?" She asked.
"Trust me. I can take care of myself."
That was enough to reassure her. Tanya took off immediately. She heard the man say behind her, "Use the artifact. Just touch it with your divine sense and accept the mark. It will keep you hidden."
The man's shadow solidified after Tanya had gone. It rippled like water as something rose up from within it. An entity came out of the shadow. This entity is completely black so they look like a shadow.
There are also strange circles all over their body. These lines and circles flow around a single point on what counts as the head of this entity. The lines and circles then collapse into the point to make it seem like there's a whirlpool on their face.
The whirlpool is not for show. Light in the surroundings is pulled by it and falls into this entity's face. Light is sinking into them, darkening the room. Darkness is spreading outwards of this entity like a tangible thing.
"What do you want to do now? Should we go?" The darkness asked the man.
The man shook his head. "I want to see what's so special about these demorgorgs."
The darkness disagreed. "That is a bad idea. We are already close to our goal. I don't think any distraction is a good idea. I think we should just leave. They won't be able to catch that descendant of yours as long as she has my mark."
"I just want to fight. Is that so bad?" The man shrugged and asked.
"Yes, it is bad." Came the reply.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure there is no trace or evidence." The man assured.
"That's even worse. There should be traces left behind by any normal force that will fight them. Leaving no trace behind will make it extra suspicious."
The man nodded. Then he said, "You should fabricate the traces then. Make it look like a demon fought and destroyed them. Make something up. Anything believable will do."
The darkness didn't argue anymore. "I suppose it is believable that demons killed the demorgorgs. Demons fight demorgorgs a lot, but they mostly use hell fire so I will have to improvise."
The man nodded. "See? There we go. You take care of the aftermath and I will fight in peace. It is called the division of labor?"
"Why don't you let me do the fighting? You should plan for the aftermath."
The man refused. "No, we can't switch. The basic requirement for the division of labor to work is specialization. I am better at fighting and you are better at subterfuge."
The darkness sighed. "You just want to fight, don't you? Is it because of your descendant?"
The man nodded. "I saw what she has become. She is of good stock. She still has the innate ability to make reflex decisions and the blood of anger still flows through her veins. But she has fallen so low without divine power. She ought to become the next god of lightning and storms but her future has been cut off by this so-called god-king."
"You should be glad that you still have a descendant. None of mine survived the culling of the gods. The lineage of darkness has ended."
"I know. I am just angry because of her situation and I want to expel my anger in a completely healthy manner."
The darkness shook his head. "You lightning heads and your penchant for violence." He muttered as he sank back into the shadows.
The demorgorgs came soon after. They are men and women of various colors. Some are green with purple hair while others are red-skinned with blue hair. They are of different assortments. But they are all muscular and they all have black tattoos on their bodies.
These tattoos are like chains that cover their entire bodies. And on their wide muscular backs is an image drawn by the black ink used for the tattoo depicting a panicking face frozen in a mid-scream or other expressions of anguish and fear.
No two tattoos are alike. They are all different but they all depict a frozen face. This face belongs to a head with horns. The horns are also different. Some heads have a single horn while others have three or four. Some heads have a single eye while others have more. The faces are completely different, but they are all frozen in that state of panic, fear, or anguish.
These strapping men and women were quiet as they walked together. They are 21 in number but the only sounds that could be heard were the sound of their feet striking the ground and the sounds their weapons and armor made as they chaffed against each other.
No one spoke. They matched in total silence. The chain-like tattoo covered even their face so they looked menacing. They have the demeanor of soldiers. They are disciplined and orderly. It showed when they noticed the single man. They all stopped as one.
The woman at the head of the squad signaled to the others. Then she asked the man with her divine sense, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
She doesn't think this man is a weakling who got lost in an ancient ruin. He looks like an ordinary giant but no giant of order that is at least a transcendent is ordinary.
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A/N: Bonus chapter for the 250 golden tickets goal.