Ruthless: Path of Conquest

The Spider walked across the gaps between worlds.

His long, supple limbs strode across the void with practiced ease and self-assurance, finding footholds in places where nothing perceptible existed.

Along the way, he grabbed useful items and tucked them away in his old bag. A number of stars from a constellation. As many uninhabited planets as he could find without going out of his way. Several black holes, which he had to place in a separate pocket from everything else.

As the Spider God gathered these improvised weapons, he drew closer to the meeting place that he had set.

As Anansi moved to within sight of the great, flaming orb, he felt the tension of the situation wash over him in full. It probably would not help much, but he removed one of the black holes from his bag and used it as a sort of shield, blocking himself from direct line of sight.

Hiding behind it, he advanced closer to Moloch’s position.

A piercing sound struck him as soon as he got within hearing of Moloch’s orb. The painful noise of tens of thousands of tortured screams. It was not as bad as it once had been—or as bad as Anansi might have feared. Eons ago, when Moloch was young and popular, the Spider had visited the Tyrannical Sun. Back then, the place had echoed with the deafening noise of millions of tortured screams.

As Moloch’s power dwindled, and he burned through the sacrifices for nourishment, the number of those suffering here had diminished.

Behind the mask, the Spider God allowed himself a small smile at the relative quiet. Soon the silence would be complete.

Anansi spent the next hours setting his traps.

Placing his planets and stars in thoughtful, strategic locations, along with his collected black holes and divinely powerful spider threads.

Though he moved cautiously, he recognized that he had been correct in his assumptions about Moloch.

The cruel god was in the midst of a deep slumber, conserving energy through inactivity while he slowly restored his strength. Just a few years ago, if Anansi had gotten this close without an invitation, Moloch would have detected his presence and smote him with great fists of flame before the other gods he had invited even had time to arrive.

It was Moloch’s bad luck over the course of multiple centuries—and most proximately, the actions of Anansi’s Chosen One—that had created this opportunity, this massive vulnerability, in the Tyrannical Sun’s defenses.

As the Spider God completed his preparations, the other gods who he had invited began to appear—or, as was more likely with some of them, began to make themselves known, having waited to see if Anansi set off any alarms from the evil god they were all there to kill.

It was all right with the Spider that they were cautious. Although he had planned and organized this assault and coordinated the various gods, he knew he would not be doing the heavy lifting in this fight.

The first to arrive were, unsurprisingly, two Sun Gods. The force Anansi had assembled was mostly these cousins of Moloch. They stood to gain the most from the Tyrannical Sun’s demise in terms of power and worship.

There was Anpetu Wi, standing tall and proud, armed with a spear, sheathed knives, and a war club—and dressed all in red.

Kisosen the Sun-Bringer appeared next, in his usual form of a giant eagle.

Old man Ra arrived, and Anansi began to sweat. The three Sun Gods that were there were looking at each other with thinly veiled hostility, because even though they were all here for the same reason, they were also rivals. Ra’s falcon head and blazing eyes were intimidating even when he was not already actively on a mission of destruction.

As he was feeling nervous, all three looked silently in his direction, as if demanding answers.

He knew what they were wondering.

Finally, Nyame appeared with a flourish.

Thank you, Anansi thought. Finally.

None of the others were talking—all were trying to avoid Moloch’s attention until their full force arrived, because here in his realm, he would be at his most powerful.

But he knew they had been wondering if the Spider had pulled the wool over their eyes again. Now that Nyame was among them, there was a slight release of tension. Anansi was not expecting the other gods to do all the work. He was not only there himself, but so was the head of his pantheon—which meant a much greater power than the Spider God himself could bring to bear.

Nyame looked at Anansi silently, and the Spider knew what Nyame was wondering.

Is this everyone?

Anansi shook his head, and the other gods simply stood waiting for a short time.

Then Apollo and Surya came racing in, both riding their chariots and looking at each other with thinly veiled dislike. Each of the chariot-racing Sun Gods felt a particular ownership of the chariot symbolism, and Anansi had heard them argue in the past over who was most entitled to it.

Thankfully, today, they were prudently quiet.

Anansi turned, as he felt a cold chill from behind him—a strange sensation when he was so close to Moloch—and he saw pale-skinned Kalma, clad in her thin dress.

He suppressed a shiver at the aura of decay that surrounded her.

He wanted to tell her that it was good to see her—though that would be a lie, Death Goddesses always made him uncomfortable—but it was more important to maintain silence.

Kalma seemed to understand implicitly what Anansi was thinking and why he felt the need to maintain silence, even through his mask. She smiled, revealing yellowed teeth, and then she sauntered past him to join the others, swaying her thin body like a reed in the wind.

Apollo looked pleased to see her—then realized that they were only waiting on his pantheon members now. He frowned, and the radiant light that surrounded him at all time dimmed slightly.

Then, as if in response to his feelings, the three Furies, dressed all in black, appeared out of the darkness between Anansi and the other gods. They had, Anansi was certain, been lying in wait. The three had perhaps been here for longer than Anansi.

But no one fully understood why the Furies did what they did.

The Spider God was simply glad that they had come. The snakes on their heads and hatred dripping from their eyes were powerful weapons. The last time Anansi saw a god die, the Furies had been involved.

Then there was a loud metallic noise, which was swiftly followed by a muffled curse.

All the gods but Kalma turned to witness the approach of the God of Blacksmiths, who had just hit his foot on a weapon that had dropped from the bag he wore.

Anansi breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Hephaestus was the last—dragging his feet, both literally and figuratively. He was at once the clumsiest and the greatest creator of all Zeus’s pantheon, though Apollo would have disputed the latter claim. Concealed behind the god’s back, Anansi saw something metallic glint.

“What kept you, brother?” hissed Apollo, clearly embarrassed.

Anansi put his finger to his lips. Silence!

Apollo looked at him and sneered but stopped talking.

Hephaestus continued his slow approach, then revealed what he had brought with him. In addition to the weapons in his bag, he had forged thick, gleaming chains that Anansi could see were composed of something far stronger than any metal he had seen before. They trailed far off behind him into the distant void, appearing endless in length.

The weapons Hephaestus carried were also freshly made from his forge, and the Spider God could tell at a glance that they were better than a few of the gods present could normally have acquired.

Anansi quickly closed the distance so that he could claim one of the weapons for himself.

Hephaestus gave Anansi the Spear of Heat Death, with a smile and a wink.

The others had received the Star Xiphos, the Zero Era Javelin, the Eternal Shadow Kopis, and other mythically powerful weapons, but the Spider had a feeling that the one in his hands was the best of the lot.

I might actually be able to contribute to this fight beyond organizing it, he thought. It would be a first for the Spider God, to actually be useful in a battle among gods. The feeling of being truly considered by another deity for more than the value of his wits—for his ability to function as a warrior, of all things!—was an unfamiliar one.

“Thank you,” Anansi said quietly.

Hephaestus smiled and opened his mouth to reply.

But it must have been the sound of the Spider God’s voice that alerted Moloch to their presence.

Before the God of Blacksmithing could say anything in response, there was a great flare of power from Moloch’s orb of fire.

All eyes shifted to focus on the god they had come to kill.

Amid a tornado of fire, the form of Moloch appeared. His favorite image, to intimidate and awe all those who groveled before him.

A titanic, nude humanoid figure with the head and horns of a bull and the wings of an eagle, body wreathed in flame, breathing fire in and out of its nostrils.

Moloch’s preferred form was massive, heavily muscled, and of course angry.

It was obvious from the moment that he took physical shape that the god was more wrathful than Anansi had ever seen Moloch—and the Tyrannical Sun was almost an incarnation of wrath.

The flames raged all around him as he faced the forces gathered against him. Anansi distinctly heard some of the souls being tormented suddenly silenced, as Moloch snuffed them out for a last bit of suffering—a last boost to his power before the big fight.

“So it is you who were so bold as to wake me up from my nap,” Moloch said, eyes looking over the assembled gods. Their slight narrowing was the only sign that he was worried.

“The time has come for your sun to set,” rumbled Ra.

“Oh, has it, old one?” Moloch taunted. “Beware of these allies of yours—our brethren of the sun. They covet my power today. When will it be your turn?”

Ra’s feathers visibly bristled at the implication in Moloch’s words.

There is no point in arguing with one we are about to kill, Anansi thought. Moloch wants to draw this out and look for some way he might win or escape.

“I have never seen you so afraid, Moloch,” said Anansi. “Is this what you resort to, when you are too weak to fight?”

“Oh, I thought I smelled the stench of cowardice!” Moloch roared back. “I knew there had to be a brain somewhere in this group! Anansi, so good to see you…”

“Do not try to distract and divide us, weak one,” Nyame said. “Whatever our motives, you only need to know that today is the last day you dishonor the sun with your filthy cult.” Those last words were spat with contempt.

Moloch roared defiantly back, and the surface of his sun began erupting with fire aimed at the gods attacking him.

The time for talk was over.

The gods each began their own attacks, striking from different angles with different methods. Despite the staggered arrival times, they had planned the entire strategy for the battle in advance. One did not simply improvise an attack on a god in his place of strength.

Kisosen beat his wings hard and managed to push some of the flames back from the group.

The rest took advantage of the opening to scatter and begin acting on the plan.

Surya grabbed hold of Hephaestus’s great chain and began riding his chariot to the side, while his female companions shot arrows at Moloch, both his physical body and the fiery orb that was his true core. Anything that weakened or damaged either body weakened both.

Apollo likewise let loose a flurry of his golden arrows from his bow, while dancing around the flames that Moloch continued to blast in his direction. He almost made it look like fun.

Anpetu Wi thrust into the fiery orb with his spear and began pulling away some of Moloch’s power—as a fellow Sun God, the energy was similar to his own—while Ra and Nyame, the only ones powerful enough to trade blows with even a weakened Moloch in his place of power, engaged him in close range combat, using the weapons Hephaestus had provided.

The Furies looked for openings to strike at Moloch’s body with snake fangs and blades wherever Ra and Nyame had adequately diverted his attention.

Kalma walked slowly around the great flaming orb, pulling away the souls that Moloch was tormenting and using for fuel and sending them along to receive rest in her parents’ underworld.

Hephaestus mostly watched and made certain that his chain was still functioning as intended.

And Anansi quickly skittered off behind the black hole he had been using as a shield before and began pulling at the threads he had prepared at the beginning of the battle. Those threads moved the planets, stars, and black holes that Anansi had gathered for the fight. The planets and stars, he threw as projectiles at Moloch’s fiery orb. They could not destroy Moloch, but they could weaken him and draw some of his attention away.

The black holes, once moved into range, pulled away some of the flaming matter of Moloch’s sun. It could not be entirely pulled into any or all of the black holes—it was a god’s divine realm, not a true star—but the presence of the heavy gravitational fields made every attack cost more of Moloch’s energy than it should have.

The battle went on for hours, during which—per the part of the plan that Anansi and Hephaestus had suggested—Surya should have been wrapping Moloch’s sun up further and further in layer after layer of the Olympian’s chains.

Anansi had to hope that was happening, as he slowly used up all of his projectiles but still heard the noises of the battle continuing. He did not see most of the fight, because he was behind his fortification—aware that he would be almost useless against Moloch’s flames, and extremely vulnerable to them. He simply had to trust in his allies.

He finally realized they were nearing the end when Hephaestus let out a low whistle.

Anansi poked his head out and saw that Moloch’s orb had been fully enveloped in the heavy links of Hephaestus’s chain. Ra opened Moloch’s chest with a downward slash of the Eternal Shadow Kopis, then stepped aside as the blood began to flow, clearly offering the killing blow to Nyame.

And Nyame turned his head, looked and saw Anansi, then gestured for the Spider God to take the honor.

It was ridiculous, given how old Anansi was, that he felt his heart beat more quickly at the thought. He did not let himself overthink the reaction, though. It was his moment. There was no time for indecision.

Anansi rushed in and plunged the Spear of Heat Death into Moloch’s heart.

Moloch bared his teeth in a last defiant snarl, and then his body began to disintegrate.

The other Sun Gods wasted no time in beginning to pull away what was left of the energy from his orb—they had each been weakening him through the battle by trying to siphon of chunks of energy from his star, though it was extremely inefficient and would not have worked well if there had not been so many of them.

A bright, fiery, winged figure suddenly appeared in the corner of Anansi’s vision.

No…

Anansi turned his head and saw him. The Morning Star himself. Satan.

His fiery body was at once beautiful and painful to look at, and the Spider God quickly averted his eyes.

Satan floated closer to the star and, without waiting for anyone’s permission, began pulling away something as well.

Anansi looked to old Ra, the only one there who he thought would be powerful enough to tell Satan to leave. But Ra looked tired and drained from the battle—and at his age, with his particular attributes, he was probably ready for a nap.

So the Spider God forced himself to pay attention to Satan instead.

What was the fallen angel pulling from Moloch’s decaying true form?

It looked like—the sacrificial aspect of Moloch.

Some of the air went out of Anansi. Human sacrifice was what he had hated most about Moloch, and he had deliberately selected gods for this attack who would not want to absorb that into their own divine attributes. If he had wanted anti-human beings to participate, he would have had many more options.

If we simply left that aspect of Moloch alone, it would die off in the void without the rest. Why do you want it? You truly want to lean into that aspect of your own power?

“Greetings Anansi.” Satan’s voice came from suddenly beside the Spider God. It echoed unnaturally in the void.

Anansi resisted the urge to check where Nyame was and forced himself to look directly at the Morning Star instead. It might have just been the Spider’s eyes adjusting, but it seemed as if the brightness had dimmed slightly—perhaps out of some consideration for Anansi.

The possibility that Satan was trying to be nice to him made Anansi uneasy. The only thing worse than drawing the fallen angel’s enmity was drawing his positive attention.

“Greetings,” Anansi replied grudgingly. “I did not realize you would be attending the battle.”

“Oh, I would not have missed it for the world,” Satan replied. “I wanted to get my share, yes—but I also wanted to witness your work. Congratulations are in order, I think.”

Anansi parsed the Morning Star’s tone for any hint of mockery and, finding none, decided it would be wise to be polite in return.

“Thank you,” the Spider said simply.

“We trickster types have to stick together, I think,” Satan said, still pulling power from the dying orb. “It pleases me to see you succeed. This was the first time you successfully killed another god, was it not?”

Anansi nodded and made himself smile behind the mask. He could not be certain, but he thought Satan would know what expression his face wore.

Inside, he was roiling.

One day, I will kill you, too, the Spider God thought. You and your father.