Work Text:
Anger
"Why weren't you here?"
Gero stepped forward, watching as His dear friend closed the eyes of His deceased disciple with a bloody hand. His throat grew tight with guilt. In this moment, He felt more human than God; clueless, lost, and devastated. Still, He maintained control of his expression, containing every heartache as He always had to.
Gods were seen as deities, so how could He be any less in this instance? He, Gero, the God of chaos and the Nether, His dimension. The strongest God. A title He had never asked for.
Gero watched the young girl’s face as her gaze scanned His for an answer that He would not, no, could not give. He watched her face, so full of hope, fall.
-
Everyone grieves in different ways. When a God and a human girl lose their closest friend, neither are quite sure how to process it. One blames the other, and one acts in the only way He knows how; anger.
That’s how it is in the Unknown Isles, how it’s always been. Ever since Lady Ismene, the Goddess of Time, reset the world and created the paradox known as the Loop System, the world has never been the same.
The Gods broke the world, or… was it that the world broke the Gods?
-
Silence persisted through the changing surroundings, the empty Overworld plains that sat in the middle of nowhere suddenly blooming vibrant blue flowers as the cloudy sky cleared into beautiful nebulas.
Gero knelt down and picked one from the ground, twirling it between His fingers before offering it to the teary-eyed girl. "Don't cry," He said, placing the flower over the spreading sanguine of Daniel's off-white shirt.
"Why weren't you here?" Blake whispered, closing Daniel's eyes with a shaking hand. It wasn't an accusation or a reprimand, just a genuine question. A final grasp at understanding the friend she's grown to care for in months past. Blake looked up, her gaze holding a need to understand, to justify Gero's absence in some way.
But Gero had no answer. How could He? Was there any good way to tell her that her– that their friend was dead because He’d disappeared after Daniel had refused to comply with His order all but one time? So Gero stayed silent. The God of chaos and the Nether, the strongest God who feared nothing, hardened his composure to stone while cowering from the truth.
Blake's face was an open book filled page to page with heartbreak when faced with the pen writing its passages, writing that she was alone. Completely, utterly alone.
"...I see." she whispered, a joyless smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she bowed her head, her hazel eyes glistening with tears. "So this is it."
And all Gero could do was nod.
A gust of wind swept through the field of flowers and the blood-covered teenager was left to weep over her beloved corpse in solitude. The clouds stole the sky once more, and the field ceded its vibrant hue, returning to a bland plains in the middle of nowhere, with the exception of a patch of forget-me-nots that surrounded them and a single blue wildflower sitting atop Daniel's unmoving chest.
-
"Who was it?" Gero stormed between the infinite halls of bookshelves in the Alternate Library so quickly that the books nearly flew off the shelves for the sole purpose of yielding to the absolute power and fury that was this God.
Gero was seconds away from destroying a bookshelf or ten when Atlas, the God of items and betrayal, appeared from around the corner with a sigh. Agitation painted the head of gray void of any features save for a dark triangle over the left side of Their face. They were painfully oblivious to the landmine They had just placed Themself on top of. Gero grabbed Atlas by the collar of Their coat, taking Them by complete surprise as He pulled Them closer, dissuading any ideas of disappearing. Gero was taller than Atlas, having grown with His anger, and the rage in His voice weighed on the air itself.
"Who did you sign a deal with yesterday?" Gero demanded, His voice an elevated demand much louder than the calm composure He normally exuded, even when upset.
Atlas winced. Gero was mad.
The gray mass of a God displayed both gold-fingered hands in a 'surrender' motion, not wanting to anger Gero more than He already was. "A famous warrior, gone mad with grief. Kingsman." They responded immediately, voice straight and emotionless albeit for the slightest hint of fear. Oh, the perks of lacking human sentiment; the only thing keeping Their legs from buckling under Them.
Gero's grip tightened on Atlas' coat, silently threatening any notion of deception or betrayal from materializing. Atlas' arms stayed raised in a show of resignation as if wanting to prove to Gero or Voyd themself that They were being truthful. The fabric of Their coat crumbled in Gero's hands, but the browns and reds kept reforming under Atlas' command before they could fully disintegrate, leaving it in an unnatural state of in-between material and imaginary.
Gero forgave the muddy fabric, his fists loosening from around the coat holding Atlas up. "Then I'm going to find him." Gero disappeared from the library in a blink, and the entire space seemed to sigh in relief. The books were just books again, and the tension filling the room seemed to dissipate.
Gero reappeared at the same moment in an open field covered in coagulated mud and a patch of small blue flowers. Two trails of dried blood paved the dirt in differing directions, but Gero followed the one with a consistent and twisting path, assuming it to be one made by the sightless lunatic dripping with fresh blood and insanity. Atlas appeared soon after, following behind with nearly as many questions on His mind as items to keep track of and no idea which to ask first.
"Why are you looking for him? What did he do now?" Atlas started, hesitant to close the distance.
Silence.
"Gero? Why are you interested in this soul?" Atlas rephrased Their question, curiosity outweighing survival instinct.
Gero's footsteps were louder than before, but He couldn’t hear them over the spiraling thoughts juggling His emotions and composure. Each movement forward seemed like a new attack against the earth. loud. A warning that Atlas hadn't noticed, not yet. Questions, questions, Who was Atlas to question Him? Rather than dissipating like the tide, Gero's anger only grew like a burning fire on the brink of extinguishing; unpredictable, dangerous.
The trail of blood, which had dwindled down to a meager couple of drops, ended before a lake. A lake Gero knew well, or would have if His last straw hadn't just snapped, burned, and crumpled to ash at His feet. "DAMN IT!" He shouted, His voice echoing in a furious ripple across the serene lake where he spent the previous summer sparring with a beloved friend. He lost the trail.
Gero turned around, the full force of his anger now aimed at His fellow God. "You want to know why I want to find him? Fine! He killed my champion! Daniel Sother, a nomad I took in who settled in East Astral last year. He was fighting monsters, minding his own business trying to survive the night. He was sixteen. That thing that you helped kill him with is a madman who deserves death, and as far as I'm concerned, you killed him too." Gero's voice bit with every word, every step in Atlas' direction shaking the ground like small earthquakes reaching even the deepest depths of hell. Well, that's exactly what they were doing.
Atlas stepped back immediately, trying to regain His balance between Gero and a mysterious headache splitting His head open. But why? He stumbled backwards slightly as a quiet hum caught His attention. A red glow lit the gray mass that made up His face as he realized what was causing the stabbing pain in His head.
Rifts of dizzying red lights and fire flooded the skies and swallowed the terrain. Even the lake, once serene and undisturbed by the God's anger, couldn't withstand His wrath. Lava spilled out of a singular portal in the center of the lake, leaving what water didn't evaporate into stormy clouds in the sky to become a messy, ugly mass of obsidian. The lake overflowed, obsidian forcing the water outside its container and into every divot and cave nearby.
Atlas recognized this portal, though He hadn’t seen one in ages. A portal into Gero’s dimension. A portal into the Nether.
Gero stayed silent between the chaos He had created, it was hard to tell whether He had even noticed what had happened yet. His hands were balled into fists, His stance was rigid, His body was the sort of tense that no one had dared push out of Him after the youngest God had gone rogue in the first Loop, and He seemed ready to start a fight.
And then that tension just... left.
Atlas could tell that the anger was still there, the burning hatred that led to this situation wouldn't snuff out like that. But there was also... something Atlas hadn't yet seen on Gero's face before.
Suddenly, Atlas realized that a voice had spoken from further behind Him only moments ago.
Suddenly, the singularity that was Gero was just a part of the whole.
“Gero..?” A young girl stumbled backwards, dropping an iron axe she had been holding. Had Atlas been so focused on Gero that They truly hadn't noticed an entire mortal spying on the two of Them?
Atlas was still at a loss for words, but now They had the sense to realize that Gero was as well.
Gero turned around, pivoting on one foot with the gentility of His God sibling, Ismene, and for the first time in weeks, the God and girl finally locked eyes. Gero's expression was unreadable, but the girl's was predictable yet strange. Her pause showed reverence for the Gods as she realized who she was standing before, the way she contemplated for a moment before kneeling down displayed the recognition of her place among them. Her hazel eyes, full of emotion yet completely and utterly hollow, reflected the fear she felt... for her life, probably.
Gero's silence seemed deafening now, as if it were a scream of its own, one so loud it made the girl jump out of her own skin.
"I'm sorry," the girl apologized, "I was just on a walk and didn't want to... disturb... you." she explained, her voice smaller than the ball she seemed to have curled herself into. Barely a whisper. The world seemed to listen to it nevertheless.
The girl was withdrawn from Gero’s gaze, no longer searching for something she knew He didn’t hold. What she was looking at in this moment was not a friend. This was a fact she had forgotten time and time again, or maybe she just never wanted to see it. Maybe she was content in covering her own eyes like the bandana she always saw Gero wearing. What she was looking at in this moment was a God. The flame she saw in His ruby eyes were a testimony to all of that, glowing brighter than that thing that He had just summoned over her favourite lake.
Gero’s eyes dimmed like the hesitation of a candle’s tongue before deciding whether to burn out or burn brighter. His rage was no less than before, but seeing His friend kneeling before Him with more distance in her eyes than He had ever seen gave Him pause. His last remaining friend in a world of worship. His last tether to sanity. His last memory of Daniel.
An awkward pause between the two acquaintances lasted far longer than it ever had. Awkward, not peaceful. Painful, in an emotionally devastating way. One wanted to disappear into the floor, and the other wanted to have the first stand up and stop dirtying their clothes, to apologize, to blame Atlas, to somehow undo what He's done.
Neither could do as they wished, however. It was far too late for that, for any of that.
And so Gero took the first step back.
Atlas watched as Gero turned towards the lake, tearing a strip of His clothes and tying it around his eyes before walking without as much as a glance back. The girl finally stood up, her expression contorting into a confusingly regretful plea as she tugged at the hem of her shirt, watching the God of chaos retreat to His realm.
Who was she, and why did Gero seem to recognize her?
The girl turned towards Atlas, straightening up for a moment before slouching into herself. Bowing again as she recognized the floating items revolving around their God.
Atlas had just been... standing there.
Did Gero just hesitate? Gero? For this small human who couldn't so much as look at either of Them properly? Seeing her bow without so much as a word seemed to snap Atlas out of whatever confused trance He was in and he turned to follow Gero, unsure of what would happen if He was left alone to His devices right now.
And so, without a second thought, Atlas disappeared between the floating obsidian, Their image obscured with the dizzying reds of the newly formed Nether portal before disappearing completely behind it.
Upon entry, Atlas became dizzy once more from the sheer amount of Nether portals connecting back into the Overworld. At the center of the chaos stood Gero, looking through each portal with absolute clarity. Where Atlas saw tangled threads of red that made Him almost sick, Gero seemed to look straight into the Overworld. Looking almost obsessively… and Atlas had only somewhat learned why.
Atlas glanced around nervously with the creeping certainty that this amount of portals was not healthy for the Nether nor the Overworld. He had just turned to tell Gero exactly that, only to discover that He stood alone.
Atlas ran up to the last portal He'd seen Gero standing in front of, avoiding the piglins and Nether inhabitants eagerly jumping through the several portals surrounding them, and jumped through with the hope that it was the right one.
Back in the Overworld, a village is peacefully slumbering, unaware of the threat a single portal would soon bring. Atlas looked around to find anything out of the ordinary, any sign to follow. Normally, He wouldn't care as much about what Gero chose to do in His spare time, but this felt different. Wrong, even.
Atlas focused on the items in the surrounding area, sensing every building, breath, and body.
'There.' He thought, recognizing Kingsman’s soul, which He had only recently made a deal with, sitting behind an old building on the outskirts of town.
He followed the worn gravel path to the edge of town to find a disturbing sight: not of the near-lifeless, mangled body of His owned soul, Kingsman, pinned to the ground through the neck with his own sword just as Daniel had been the night before, but of an emotional god— Gero nonetheless— holding the sword and pressing it further down as if the crunch of bones and the solid, unfarmable land beneath him were softened butter to be put to toast. The equal amounts of rage and calm in his stance as all four arms were used to deliberately kill this middle-aged man as agonizingly as possible. That was what disturbed Atlas.
"He's dead now. Call off your Netherlings."
Gero looked up at Atlas, the blood red glow of His eyes showing through the opaque, black cloth, matching the fresh, wet sanguine splattering the rest of His body.
Without another word, Gero let go of the sword and disappeared.
This time? Who knows where.
"What have you caused?" Atlas asked, looking over Kingsman’s lifeless body as He lifted the glowing blue sword, shifting His attention to the newest item for His collection as He, too, vanished from the crime scene. Those were the last words to disappear into the cool night air before screams of terror and death rang out across the entirety of the Overworld.
The Nether Invasion had begun.