A tear opens in the air above the crater. The edges hold. The gap widens. Heat leaks out.

King Baalrek flares the skull‑mark on Jacob's face. Jacob's skin turns solid red. The horns harden. The gold crown drops into place. The wings expand to full span. The ground splits under his weight.

King Baalrek draws breath through Jacob's chest. The breath feels shallow. Power inside the body drops. The crown dims by a shade. The tattoo loses a line of black. The wings grow heavy.

"Time," King Baalrek says. "I am running out."

He raises the trident of black flame and sets his feet.

The crater is quiet. The body of Asmodeus's intrusion lies broken, the light gone from its eyes, the scales cracked and dim.

King Baalrek stands over it, trident of black flame still in his grip. Jacob's skin is red, his face marked with the black skull-tattoo, the crown heavy on his head. His chest heaves with deep breaths that are not his own.

The wings fold once, then sag. The crown flickers. The tattoo dulls at the edges.

King Baalrek narrows Jacob's eyes.

"Too soon. This vessel can't hold me much longer."

King Baalrek flares Jacob's skin red again, forcing power into the mark, forcing the crown to burn brighter. He sets the trident back into guard, wings stretching to their full span once more. His stance is steady, but in his chest the strength is already leaking away.

"Another intrusion?" King Baalrek mutters. "Already?"

The tear widens. A figure steps through.

It is not Asmodeus controlling another body.

It is the Headmaster.

The tear closes behind him as he walks onto the broken stone, his robes brushing the ash. His glasses catch the dying glow of black flame. His eyes scan the crater, the Champions lying unconscious, the shattered wetlands, and finally settle on King Baalrek.

He does not rush. He does not raise a hand. He simply studies the sight before him, as though he had been waiting.

King Baalrek's grip tightens on the trident.

"You."

The Headmaster adjusts his glasses with two fingers. His voice is calm.

"So. Welcome back, Vice Principal Baalrek. I see you have preceded me in dealing with Asmodeus's intrusion. I felt his power from afar and came as fast as I could. It took me a while to pinpoint the right coordinates, though."

"Asmodeus would have killed everybody here if they had to wait for you, old man," King Baalrek says.

The Headmaster lets the insult slide with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"And yet, here they are. Alive. Your handiwork still carries weight, Baalrek."

King Baalrek lowers the trident but doesn't dismiss it. The crown dims slightly, the tattoo across Jacob's face fading at the edges. "Weight enough, yes. But don't pretend you wouldn't have scolded me if I failed."

The Headmaster chuckles softly. "Oh, I would have written it into your record." He pauses, tilting his head as he studies Jacob's form, the golden crown still pressed into place. "But failure was never your habit."

King Baalrek exhales through Jacob's mouth, a sound halfway between a laugh and a growl. "It's strange to hear you praise me without a list of conditions. Are you mellowing with age, old man?"

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The Headmaster's smile sharpens.

"Age makes men more dangerous, not softer. You of all people should know that."

King Baalrek inclines Jacob's head. For once, the mocking edge softens in his tone. "I do."

The Headmaster takes a step closer, folding his hands behind his back as though they stand in a lecture hall instead of a battlefield scarred by gods. "I assume you did not come back to play guardian angel without reason. This boy…" He glances down at Jacob's unconscious consciousness, his brow tightening for a fraction of a second. "...he must matter a great deal to you."

King Baalrek smirks.

"He's earned it. First disciple worth the name. I still have to beat some manners into him, though."

The Headmaster adjusts his glasses again, the gesture measured, thoughtful.

"No manners, you say? Then perhaps he truly is your disciple."

King Baalrek laughs outright this time, low and harsh.

"Just heal the kids and let me be, old man. I'm tired."

"I didn't ask you to butt again into this conflict."

"And yet here we are, once again," King Baalrek sighs. "I really can't escape my Academy duties--not even in death."

The Headmaster shrugs lightly.

"It seems I must add another line to the records: Baalrek, my strongest Vice Principal, still refuses to retire quietly."

King Baalrek dips the trident until its point strikes stone with a dull thud. The crown flickers again, heavy on his brow.

"Quiet was never my way."

"What now?" the Headmaster asks. "You must know what you just did, I suppose?"

The Infernal King looks at the trident in his hand and then at the arm of Jacob Cloud he's controlling.

"Our Karmas are now intertwined. With Asmodeus trying to remove him and me saving him, the balance comes out positive, doesn't it? Jacob Cloud's Karma survived a God's onslaught."

"I can't really remember the last time this happened," the Headmaster says pensively. "But yes, your disciple's Karma just skyrocketed because of this."

King Baalrek sighs and rubs his face with his free hand.

"This means my Karma just got jumbled with his because of this spike."

"You might very well be whole again one day, Baalrek. Even without my help."

"I don't care," King Baalrek replies. "I am retired, old man. I plan to stay that way. If that bastard hadn't appeared, I would have never revealed that I can do this to Jacob Cloud. The kid has to stand on his own two legs."

"Good luck staying out of this," the Headmaster smirks. "Now, go rest. I can see you need some help with your soul. Let me."

"Mind your business, old--"

Before King Baalrek can finish his sentence, his soul is put in a stasis field that kicks his consciousness back to Jacob's soul and, at the same time, heals it.

* * *

"Is the lad awake, yet?!" Jacob hears a familiar, rough voice shout. "Lad! Wake up! We've been waiting for an hour!"

"Shut up, Boomgar! The Vice Principal said he received too much internal damage and that he needed the rest! She said he'd wake up in the next hour! Can't you have some damn patience?!"

"Patience, Goblin lass?! We've been waiting forever!"

"If you two don't shut up immediately," a cold, familiar voice says, "I will behead you both. He's the only reason all of you are still breathing."

I slowly open my eyes and see Iskara standing right by my bed as all the other Champions pool around us.

"Welcome back," the Infernal Princess says slowly.

I am confused for a moment, not fully understanding where I am.

Then, it comes all back to me. The Tomb of Fate, the Cult of Asmodeus, Azrakel, and... Asmodeus.

I dealt with it. I killed the intrusion. You're welcome, I hear King Baalrek's smug voice. Not even a God can stop this King.

I open my mouth to say something but then I find it so dry that I start coughing. Iskara gives me a glass of water and pats me on the shoulder.

"You defeated Azrakel Drazhal," I hear and I raise my eyes to meet Vyrrak's. "You saved our lives and defeated a Peak Diamond Rank Infernal Prince. Iskara told us how you did it... you're one crazy bastard, Jacob Cloud. And thank you. Let it not be said that the Blood of Dragons is ever ungrateful."

One by one, they all thank me, leaving me without much to say.

Once they're done and I've thanked them back, I only have one question.

"What now?"

"Now," Asterion replies, "we keep studying. And then, as we grow stronger, we hunt down the rest of the Cultists until we kill a God."

"Sounds good to me," I say, then feeling my stomach grumble. "Do you guys mind if we have lunch first, though?"

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