Two days after Orniskem’s victory over Ares’ forces on the planet Mars, the Greek god of war found himself in Lel, walking across the colossal stone bridge that connected the dimensional gateway to the planet with the immense castle where El resided.

  The castle was gigantic. At a glance, its ceiling could not be seen, for it rose far higher than any mountain on any other world—fitting for Lel, the largest planet in all existing universes.

  It was a somber palace, rectangular along its main fa?ade, while two endless rectangular walls stretched out to either side, disappearing into the horizon.

  The main gate—flanked by towering columns of gold and silver and fashioned from massive cedar doors adorned with clasps of gold, silver, lapis lazuli, and precious gemstones—was guarded by two malakim holding flaming swords.

  The sky was dark and clouded, though the stars were still visible. Above the castle shone a perpetual crescent moon. The planet had three satellites, yet they were always aligned so that only a single crescent-shaped moon could be seen.

  Ares walked nervously across the stone bridge. Each column bore carvings of two sphinxes. The bridge led into Lel’s main courtyard, where two enormous sphinxes with women’s faces stood. They looked almost alive, their eyes following anyone who crossed the bridge.

  When the god of war set foot in the courtyard, the two malakim raised their swords in a cross, blocking his entry.

  “Lady Anat has no business with you,” they said.

  “Don’t get in my way!” Ares shouted as he seized both malakim and beheaded them with his bare hands. His eyes burned with rage, saliva dripping from his panting mouth like a rabid beast.

  To his surprise, no alarms sounded. No warnings. Nothing.

  Calmly, Ares threw the angels’ corpses aside and opened the main gate. But standing just beyond it was Anat herself.

  Her pink eyes and hair, along with the massive horns emerging from her forehead, were enough to intimidate anyone. She wore golden armor bearing a horrific demonic face on her abdomen, a purple cloak and gown draped over her body. Most curious of all, at her right side hung what appeared to be an Eastern-style sword in its sheath.

  Ares flinched at the sight. Anat had left her throne just to confront him—and he had just slaughtered her guards. She needed no alarms or security. She saw everything in Lel. Was this the rumored omnipresence she possessed?

  “Ares, Ares… you dare show your filthy face after the defeat you suffered?” Anat asked coldly.

  “Of course I came back! Your Hikaptha was defective! I couldn’t perform a proper assimilation, and I was humiliated by a disgusting tannin and that bitch of a sister of mine!” Ares roared.

  “So now you blame me for your own weakness? The Hikaptha functioned perfectly. No one expected the god of war of Olympus to be so pathetic,” Anat replied darkly.

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  Ares ground his teeth in fury.

  “I know you were healed on Palas, and that Athena let you escape. You spoke too much in front of her, and yet you still dare to stand before me,” Anat continued.

  At that moment, two women appeared behind her.

  The first was the goddess Baalat—the same one Tania had seen in her dreams. She wore a peculiar golden crown with a sun at its peak and two leaves behind it, a golden breastplate covering her chest and stomach, and a long white gown. Her face was finally visible: beautiful yet intimidating, pale white with pearl-like blue eyes, red-painted lips and eyes, and golden-blonde hair.

  The second goddess was very pale, with purple hair and a crescent moon emerging from her head like horns. Her crimson eyes were both beautiful and terrifying. Her armor barely covered her body, only shielding her nipples with golden ornaments, along with a tiny golden thong. She wore golden sandals and gauntlets, with strips of gold cloth wrapping parts of her limbs.

  Of the three, Baalat was the tallest, followed by Anat. The third goddess was the shortest—but also the most beautiful.

  “Baalat, Astarte, do not interfere,” Anat said without turning around.

  “We know, sister. We only came to watch the spectacle,” Baalat replied.

  Astarte merely chuckled.

  “I think you all in Lel underestimate me,” Ares said. “Honestly, I doubt you’re as strong as you claim. You were nothing but a worthless kingdom a few years ago. It’s impossible that you became this powerful—”

  Suddenly, his right arm flew through the air, severed cleanly. Horrified, he looked at Anat—who remained perfectly still, her sword still sheathed.

  The arm hit the ground. Ares collapsed to his knees in agony.

  “Mind your words, god of war. You are in no position to argue with me,” Anat said coldly.

  Ares forced himself upright, though his arm did not regenerate. He realized he had lost a tremendous amount of ichor. His face twisted in defiance.

  “Do you think your space-time tricks scare me, witch?” he snarled.

  “Space-time? That was merely a simple cut from my blade, Mikazuki,” Anat replied.

  Ares spread his dark wings and raised his left hand, summoning the sword Phobos.

  “One touch from this blade and you’re finished!” he roared, charging at her.

  Anat did not move even a millimeter. Yet Ares fell to the ground, sliced into multiple pieces.

  “I am surrounded by incompetents who cannot carry out a single order—including you, Sister Baalat,” Anat said as she stepped on Ares’ shattered body and crushed his skull beneath her heel.

  “I did not consider it worth destroying that little village called Ibiza and risking our kingdom’s reputation,” Baalat replied.

  “Bah, it doesn’t matter. We simply need to catch a few escaped flies. This time, I’ll do it personally,” Anat said as she turned and walked away.

  “You? But we need you to rule Lel now that our Father is indisposed,” Astarte said, surprised.

  “You can manage without me, can’t you?” Anat asked with a smile.

  “Me? Well… I suppose,” Astarte replied nervously.

  “Good. It’s all in your hands. Now, summon a malak to clean that filth from the palace entrance—and disinfect my boot while you’re at it,” Anat said, vanishing from sight.

  “Yes, sister,” both goddesses replied with bows.

  “Vinland, hm?” Anat muttered as she seated herself once more on her throne, while a malak poured a blazing chalice into her golden cup.

  She took a sip—and immediately spat it out.

  “Idiot! It’s too hot!” she shouted, tongue out, face red.

  “My apologies, my lady! I’ll bring you a cooler one!” the malak cried, fleeing in panic.

  Anat crossed her legs, looking bored.

  “I never thought ruling the cosmos would be so tedious. Still, at least I’ll have some fun killing those girls. And in Vinland, reputation doesn’t matter—it’s a lawless land,” she thought, staring at the steaming liquid on the floor.

  She smiled wickedly.

  “The game begins.”

  Moments later, the malak returned with another golden cup. Anat drank it—and threw it to the ground again.

  “That’s too cold, idiot!” she yelled.