The Beginning Of An End

Chapter 34

The Underworld stretched endlessly before us, its shadows twisting and writhing as if alive, pressing against us with an oppressive weight. Each pounding stride of Sleipnir's eight legs reverberated through me, a relentless rhythm of agony that amplified the searing edges of my wound. I gritted my teeth, refusing to yield, my arms tightening around Belial's limp body. His slumped form was a chilling reminder of how fragile our victory—or survival—truly was. We were walking a razor's edge, teetering on the brink of utter loss. Yet, even in the depths of despair, I found an anchor: Loki.

There was something in his resolve that kept me going. It wasn't just his cunning or his audacity—it was his sheer adaptability, his ability to laugh in the face of chaos as if he were born of it. Perhaps he was. For Loki, destruction was familiar territory; he thrived in its midst, reshaping it to suit his needs. But for me? Losing so much, so quickly, was unthinkable. My existence had been one of control, of holding power firmly in my grasp. Now, I was stripped bare, with only fragments to cling to.

And yet, Loki's presence made it bearable. His calm determination, his refusal to falter, lent me strength I didn't know I had. It didn't erase the grief or the fear, but it shifted something within me, made the impossible seem, if not probable, then at least survivable. In the chaos of the Underworld, where shadows threatened to consume us whole, I clung to that fragile hope—and to him.

At once, as I was clutching onto Belial, surroundings slowly became far too familiar. The moment Loki began running down a familiar flight of stairs, I knew where we were. As soon as we reached the bottom and the many doors, we came to an abrupt halt.

"Uh... what is this?" Loki inquired from inside the horse, bewilderment evident in his voice. Understandably so. I slowly rose up to a sitting position, making sure not to kick Belial off. Weakness was already creeping into my bones more but I tried to push forward the best I could.

"It's...ugh," I grunted as the pulsating pain struck my side. "You need luck to guess which door leads to a correct path. I would've been able to do it if it hadn't been for the unfortunate circumstances," I yelped as the pain began spreading.

"Lay down, Asmo." Loki ordered with a gentle yet firm tone. "Thank you for the heads up though. I'll take it from here." I obeyed his orders as I didn't want to sit anyway and I laid back down over Belial.

"You have an insane amount of luck, Loki," I mumbled. "You won a poker game against me, remember that."

Loki let out a short, amused huff, though his voice carried an edge of concentration. "Beating you in poker isn't exactly a divine feat, Asmodeus. You've got the worst bluff in the entire Astral."

I wanted to retort, but another sharp pulse of pain cut through me, forcing me to clamp my jaw shut. I felt Sleipnir shift beneath us, his muscles rippling as Loki steered him toward the first door.

"Let's hope my charm extends to guessing games," Loki said, his usual confidence faltering just enough to let me know he wasn't entirely sure of himself. "You said luck, not logic, so I'm going with my gut."

"Well, your gut rarely steered us wrong," I said. "Focus and try. If you guess wrong, we are doomed." I grumbled, finding it progressively harder to speak. I carefully uncovered my side to take a look and I almost fainted when I saw the wound was spreading towards my chest. However, I decided not to say anything so as not to distract Loki.

Loki didn't respond immediately, the weight of my words hanging in the air. Sleipnir shifted beneath us, restless, as if sensing the gravity of the situation. I could feel Loki's hesitation, a rare crack in his otherwise unshakable facade.

"Doomed, huh?" he finally said, his tone lighter than the tension demanded. "No pressure, then."

I managed a weak chuckle despite the pain gnawing at me. "You're good under pressure, Loki. Better than me, at least. So... focus."