Before Arlen left Heaven, Hephaestus
“God Slayer,” the god of craft said coldly. “We cooperated this time because it was necessary. But be clear on this—this is the first and last time. Heaven will never accept your methods.”
Arlen didn’t even look back.
Their acceptance meant nothing to him.
As Cornea’s teleportation gate swallowed them, Nyx
“But how did you manage to bring the Gatekeeper here? Solon never interferes. He stays in the Sanctuary—always.”
Before Arlen could answer, Cornea
“That’s for tomorrow,” she purred. “Tonight, we celebrate.”
The Underworld erupted in revelry.
A feast unlike any before was thrown—firelight, laughter, clashing goblets, demonic music echoing through halls that had once known only discipline and war.
And then—
“Aaaarlen!”
Aura
Cornea’s glare could have melted iron.
Aura didn’t care.
“Missed me, sweet boy,” she whispered smugly.
Grom scratched his head, brow furrowed.
“Oi… by the way,” he said slowly. “What did you mean back there? You said you had a
in your hand. That thing looked a lot like Aura’s pollen.”
Silence.
Four pairs of eyes snapped toward Aura—NyxCorneaDryas
Aura’s grin widened.
“Hehe. That’s our secret~”
A flutter of black slipped free from the crowd.
An obsidian butterfly
Later, Arlen stood alone on a balcony overlooking the Underworld.
Below, in a distant alley, a once-feared god scrubbed tables under demonic boots.
“Move faster, mortal,” a demon snarled. “Or I’ll rip your leg off.”
“Y-yes, sir!” Mortis whimpered.
Arlen watched quietly.
And smiled.
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Not the cruel smile he’d worn when taunting gods.
This one felt… unfamiliar.
Almost peaceful. Almost happy.
“Home, huh…” he murmured.
“I wonder how Alden and the others are doing. Do they even remember me now that they’re free?”
A voice answered from behind him, low and dangerous.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Arlen turned.
Cornea stood there, arms crossed, eyes glowing faintly.
“Go visit them,” she said. “But don’t stay away too long. Come back to me soon.”
“Oh—Cornea,” Arlen said awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
A pause.
“…Do you have time?” she asked quietly. “Come with me.”
His heart skipped.
His mind .
He followed her anyway.
The door closed.
Silence.
Arlen swallowed.
He shut his eyes.
Then—
SMACK.
Pain exploded across his cheek.
He staggered back, hand flying to his face.
“W–What—?!”
Cornea’s voice cut through him like a blade.
“Answer me, Arlen.”
Her demonic eye burned.
“During the fight—you could have healed. You had time. But you didn’t. You let Chronos carve you open just to shock Mortis. Am I wrong?”
“…Yes, ma’am.” A nervous voice replied.
“WHY?”
The room darkened.
“Not just today,” she continued. “Every battle. You throw yourself into death. Limbs torn off. Guts spilling out—just because Nyx or Dryas heal you.”
Her voice trembled.
“That doesn’t give you the right to gamble your life.”
Her hand slammed against his chest.
“Your life isn’t yours alone anymore. It’s mine too
Arlen felt it then.
She wasn’t shouting out of anger.
She was breaking.
“I can move freely now,” Cornea said, voice low.
“You avenged my father. You gave me freedom.”
She lifted his chin.
“So now it’s my turn.”
“As Queen. As the daughter of Freedom.”
Her grip tightened.
“Don’t be reckless. Pain isn’t a requirement for victory. Trust us. Fight us.”
Her arms wrapped around him like coiling chains—unyielding.
Arlen exhaled.
“…I promise.”
Her tension eased.
“Good.”
She turned toward the door, smile returning—dangerous, familiar.
“Now come,” she said.
“Let’s enjoy the party.”
The next morning, the throne room filled once more.
The celebration was gone. What remained was purpose.
Cornea sat on her throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, eyes sharp.
“So,” she said, voice steady. “Our next target is obvious. The God of Time
Arlen nodded.
“But before that—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His gaze locked onto a small figure standing near Dryas, hands folded, posture calm—as if she belonged there.
“…Why,” Arlen said slowly, “is a in Cornea’s throne room?”
“Hey, brat,” he replied flatly. “This isn’t a daycare. Lost kids are not allowed in the Underworld.”
“It’s fine,” she added casually. “I let her in. Dryas brought her.”
“What?”
Arlen spun around.
“Last time I brought Dryas here when she was still a goddess, you chewed my head off! This is blatant favouritism!”
Nyx failed to suppress her laughter.
Before Cornea could retort, Tethys
“Mister Arlen,” she said softly. “I have a favour to ask.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Arlen immediately turned away.
“Don’t even try, kid. Cute faces don’t work on me. I don’t take requests from goddesses.”
Dryas approached him quietly and took his hand.
“Please, Arlen,” she said. “I helped you during the duel, didn’t I? At least hear her out.”
“…Damn it.”
He sighed, rubbing his face.
“Fine. What is it?”
Tethys didn’t hesitate.
“Mister Arlen,” she said clearly, “please destroy my core.”
The room froze.
Arlen turned back slowly, his expression no longer casual.
“…Are you certain?”
Tethys nodded.
“Caelus is dead,” she said, gripping his hand tightly.
“I don’t want to be a goddess anymore. I want to stay with Big Sister Dryas.”
Arlen looked down at her.
Such small hands.
Such a heavy choice.
“…Very well,” he said at last. “I respect that resolve.”
He drew Soul Eater
“Brace yourself,” he warned. “This will hurt.”
Tethys closed her eyes.
The blade pierced her chest.
“OATH BINDER,” Arlen commanded coldly.
“You are not allowed to die.
Light shattered.
Divinity faded.
The power that once bound her to Heaven dispersed like mist.
Dryas caught her instantly, holding the now-mortal girl tightly against her chest.
Arlen turned away.
“Good,” he said. “Now—”
His demonic eye glinted.
“Let’s go meet Solon.”
He smirked.
“There, I have a surprise waiting for Cornea.”
