"No last minute jitters?"

Viktoriya smiled weakly. "Like you wouldn't believe," she admitted.

Oh, she had imagined it, of course. A relationship. A dress. A wedding. A ceremony. A honeymoon. The way her aunt had wistfully described her wedding, she'd wondered how her's would go. Who would be there, where and when they'd do it.

Who she would marry.

She sniffled, her eyes wet. If only her aunt, her uncle, her… parents could see her now. If only her parents had lived to see her now.

"Having second thoughts?" asked the woman touching up her dress, white and flowing and lacey and wholly impractical in a way that poked annoyingly at her instincts.

Viktoriya wiped away the tears. "Of course not. There's just… so many people I would have liked to see here." Lorelei hummed in response.

Her family, including the 203rd, as a start. Elya should have been among the bridesmaids. It would have been fun to have the whole Salamander kampfgruppe outside, even though she didn't personally know everyone in it. She was sure Tanya would have liked to see some of their superiors they had good relationships with there.

Her heart ached.

Lorelei finally stepped back, nodding approvingly. "My best work yet. The suit Tanya wore during his birthday was almost as good, but this?" She smiled triumphantly. "You look positively radiant!"

Viktoriya couldn't exactly confirm that – mirrors were surprisingly expensive – but she was sure it was true.

She imagined how he would look.

She chuckled to herself, and Lorelei shot her a quizzical look. "It's nothing," she replied. "Tanya just… when I was younger and I imagined getting married, the man never looked anything like Tanya."

Lorelei nodded sagely and then looked back at the door. Viktoriya raised an eyebrow-

Knocking sounded on the door, and Lorelei grinned again. "Finally."

Three women barged into the room. She didn't recognize two, but the third-

Darkness, wearing a beautiful dress of her own, smiled as the other two circled a flustered Viktoriya. "Hmm, not bad work, but we can certainly do better!" one of the two declared. They immediately got to work, rushing back out and in with armloads of cosmetic supplies.

"Darkness-"

"Think nothing of it! As your friend, of course I'd stop at nothing to ensure you look your absolute best!" her bridesmaid declared.

Viktoriya opened her mouth, to thank her or to promise that they'd pay her back, but she shook her head. "After all, what are friends for? Now, I know you two have been extraordinarily busy, but put it all out of your mind for now. Today is for the two of you and no one else!" Darkness put one hand on her hip and gave her a thumbs up and a radiant smile.

Viktoriya sniffled again, but she stowed her tears, nodded, and returned her smile.

Thoughts of how they would rescue Kyouya from the clutches of the Yatagarasu, or how they would continue to prepare Axel for the future, or their adventuring, or how they would beat the Demon King were all pushed to the side.

In the days since deciding on when to have the ceremony, well-wishes had flowed in and gratitude – from others to them, from them to others, from Viktoriya to Tanya and Tanya to Viktoriya – had built. For Axel as a whole, the marriage was something of a distraction from the Eris situation.

She doubted it would feel as wonderful as the look on Tanya's face after their first kiss.

That wouldn't stop them from trying to make this one of the best days of their lives!

-OxOxO-

He gestured. He gesticulated. He ran. He ranted. He raved. He talked. He told. He decreed.

He worked.

Clouds churned. Ground heaved. Light bent. Every fundamental force, from the electromagnetic to the gravitational to the fantastical to the magical to the phantasmagorical, bowed to His will.

Oh, how He worked.

There had been three Breaks in the last four hours alone – a twenty-second century elephant Moon Goddess, a fertility deity in a Mithraic pantheon from the eighth century, and a gestalt of one hundred and eight space-traveling bodhisattvas – and the Anniversary was almost upon them. They weren't too important, but they still had to recover, which meant picking up the slack. So He was working.

He was always working.

Still, He'd done what He could, as He always did. Those He thought most likely to rebel were placed the farthest from the Descent, while those least likely were closest to it.

Their proximity to the Descent had nothing to do with His trust in them, in the other deities of Heaven, in His friends. Many He trusted implicitly were also far, far away from the Descent.

The Anniversary did not mean Heaven could cease functioning. Most were at their posts, doing their jobs. Judging souls, escorting souls to their new homes, watching a hundred thousand histories playing out within universes, answering the prayers and pleas of mortals, doing battle with demons, and more besides.

He didn't know who would take advantage of the Anniversary. He had strong suspicions, and He acted on them, but He refused to know for a fact.

He waved a hand as He finished a conversation with a Principality and Sarutahiko Okami, and He knew how long He had left.

One hour.

It was all too fast. He remembered the last Anniversary, and the one before that, and on and on. He knew they weren't coming any faster. They couldn't.

Just to be sure, He counted the seconds between them. If the number of seconds was different this time, it would be the first time in a long, long time.

It still felt too fast, and once again, He desperately wished He could have done things differently, back then.

He knew where He was needed next. There was another domain, and another, and another. A realm of darkness and shadow. A realm of make believe. A realm of mundanity. A realm of farcical absurdism. All of them should have held the same weight, and yet, He had to choose what to prioritize. He could bend Heaven to His will, hold days-long conversations in the span of a few picoseconds, but it hardly mattered.

Heaven was infinite. There were an infinite number of places He needed to be, and He was not Heaven. He was not infinite.

Still, despite the pressing needs of an infinite number of people and places, He still decided there was one place that was not asking for help, or advice, or a shoulder to lean on, or words of encouragement, that He should visit anyway.

Heaven bent around Him, and He was no longer in a realm of clouds and a sun and vast floors without ceilings hanging weightless.

Around Him, around them, a checkerboard stretched towards the horizon. Above that horizon, gray clouds swirled. Light filtered through the clouds from an unsure source.

Below the sky, the checkerboard was not made up of plastic pieces and cardboard, but of concrete sidewalks that formed the lines that separated squares filled with grass and bushes and a single, solitary tree each. Each square was about twenty feet long.

He turned around.

He noticed the yawning hole first. Where four hundred of the checker squares might have been, was instead a pitch-black chasm, walled by clean, sterile concrete.

There were a few ways into Heaven. Heaven whisked dead souls into its embrace as a part of its involuntary functioning. Gods and Goddesses affiliated with transportation or movement could sometimes bring people or things directly to Heaven. He could snap His fingers and make it happen.

There was only one way to leave Heaven whole and unencumbered.

Deities could incarnate, being born as a mortal or simply manifesting, but they would lose access to most of their power. In addition, they would remain bound by the laws, rules, and contracts of Heaven.

It was possible to incarnate with all of one's power, but the power requirements for such meant that weaker deities used up Heaven's mana to do so. While stronger deities could incarnate on their own, they had too much mana to do so without possibly damaging the world they were attempting to incarnate in.

Of course, once a deity incarnated, it was possible for them to repudiate Heaven, through word or deed, and become a Dark God… but the backlash from abandoning one's duties could kill or severely weaken a deity, to say nothing of the changes to a deity's personality that always followed.

No, there was only one way to leave Heaven whole and unencumbered.

The Descent.

Currently, it looked like a giant hole in the ground. The cast offs that got sent to Hell could pass through the infinitely deep hole, but nothing else could.

Unless it was the Anniversary, in which case, deities and angels and even regular souls could incarnate while abandoning their contracts.

He took a breath, and then looked to His side.

He smiled.

"You've finally decided to wear your toga!" He said, congratulating her.

She wore a purple-bordered white toga that fit her well. It was embroidered with gold. Behind her, a pair of wings twice as long as she was tall were splayed over the back of the bench and across the ground. He looked down at the ground and raised an eyebrow.

She blushed slightly. "I can't give up every habit I had." She defended her choice in footwear, but He just shrugged. "The toga certainly isn't a uniform. If you want to wear boots… well, I won't begrudge you."

She nodded demurely. Her face was just as youthful as it had been when she'd died. "I was happy to hear that you had no need of my aid."

"But," He said, "I wanted to check in on you anyway. I don't mean it as an offense-"

"Oh!" she said, bowing her head lower. "I'd never do that, Lord. I was just… planning."

He raised an eyebrow. Why had she hesitated? "Is that all?"

She winced, and then she sighed. "Not… just that. I've looked at what she is doing."

He fought the urge to roll His eyes. "I know it isn't easy, to just put the past behind you, but believe me when I say that you have a higher calling than Tanya von Degurechaff. What happens to her is of no consequence to your future anymore."

She frowned. "But…" she stopped, taking a calming breath. "Can we really ignore her? She really has a chance to kill the Demon King. Doesn't that make her a threat?"

He sighed. "Maybe. Whatever threat she poses doesn't compare to the Anniversary, and I'm sure that one of the Goddesses Eris has become will keep a close enough eye on her."

He leaned back on the bench and looked out at the hole. "You can't spend all of your existence focused on something like that. However long you decide to live for – centuries or millennia or eons or longer – she'll only ever be a small part of who you are."

He heard her tense up and then, haltingly, she said. "Alright."

"Good," He said. He rose to His feet once more. "I wish you luck, Mary Sioux, as the final bulwark. The Anniversary does not always result in deities making it this far, so with any luck, you will merely have to patrol."

She rose off the bench and kneeled down. "Of course, my Lord," she said. He rolled His eyes – there was no need to be so obsequious – and then, with another wave of His hand, He was gone.

He checked the time again.

A few picoseconds after the hour mark.

He sighed. There was so much work to be done.

-OxOxO-

Five minutes. He knew that was how long was left.

"Begin," he intoned.

The meeting room was bereft of any furniture, adornments, or guards. It was the Demon King and his Generals and no one else. He stood facing the mural on the wall.

Across from him stood Wolbach. To her right stood Verdia and his own daughter, while Hans and Sylvia stood at his sides. The giant slab of pure white rock he'd acquired decades ago was below them, carved over the course of years by his own hand and by those of artisans, Archmages, and more. All kinds of shapes were carved into the surface of the stone, linking each participant to others.

Within each groove, more was carved. Words and sentences and curses and prayers were carved within each and every line. On the seemingly flat surface of the stone, more of the same was carved, over and over, a never-ending description, a mantra, dedicated to one thing and one thing only.

The planning had taken a decade all on its own.

Around the six of them, wrought iron rose in a parody of a cage and a table all at once. Above them, her knees pressing into the metal grate, was Celestina, head bowed, eyes screwed shut, hands clasped, serving as their conduit to Heaven.

Beneath them, one floor below them, the white-robed NEET was widening their connection to Hell, forcing it that-much-more open.

He would remain silent.

The six of them stood on the only inches of the stone's face that hadn't been covered. It had taken two full days of nonstop work for the artisans to carve Wolbach's place to reflect her new footprints.

The six of them standing on the white stone were also holding hands.

Before him, behind Wolbach, the mural of the cosmos glowed softly.

"On this day," Celestina began, "we come together to perform a ritual. Though our reasons may be our own, our community gathers in commemoration of… the Anniversary."

Neither mana nor arcana pooled. The circle below them did not begin to glow, and there was no feeling of gravity, of stakes, that was not an invention of their minds, no matter how total the imagined pressure was.

A ritual for the Anniversary couldn't be reliant on such things. The Anniversary touched everything that existed, whether it had magic or not.

A ritual for the Anniversary was reliant on work. On belief. On effort.

And on Heaven.

From above, from the shaking form of the Dark Priest serving the Demon King, a question was asked.

"Dark Goddess of Violence and Sloth, what is your reason?"

Wolbach's focus sharpened, and she stared at an invisible point in the center of the circle. The Demon King stared back unflinchingly.

"I seek retribution."

"Deadly Poison Slime, what is your reason?"

Hans's voice sounded to his left. "I seek sustenance."

"Growth Chimera, what is your reason?"

Sylvia's voice sounded to his right. "I seek augmentation."

"Demon Princess, what is your reason?"

His eyes looked at his daughter, resplendent and powerful. She stared forward, past him. "I seek to prove myself."

He did not wince. They'd practiced the ritual dozens of times, had discussed the reasons they would name, and had picked over every word for weeks. He knew she would say that, and it still sent a pang through his heart.

He did not wince. Their effort would be rewarded. If more effort, to remain stone-faced, was required, that was fine. He'd already given so much.

"Dullahan Knight, what is your reason?"

He knew, without looking, that a sling went across his friend's chest, his eyes peeking out from beneath the cloth swaddling his head. "I seek to serve." His voice was slightly muffled, but his words rang true.

"Demon King in Belzerg, what is your reason?"

Oh, how he wished he could lie. How he wished he could give the reason he had given at the beginning of his reign, when he'd arisen from Hell, claimed the title, and begun his campaign. How he wished things were now as they had been once upon a time.

The Demon King did not. There was one thing above all others he needed if he were to ever overcome the Kingdom of Belzerg. He'd spent decades amassing it, the victory he desired always just out of reach, victory surely possible if only he had a bit more.

"I seek power."

Behind Wolbach, the mural's glow intensified.

He kept his breathing even as he watched the planets orbiting the sun turn from daubs of enchanted paint into glowing pinpricks.

"Voice is given to reasons!" Celestina's declaration rang in the room. Her voice was shaking slightly. "The Demon King and his Generals have come today to commemorate the Anniversary!"

"We stand witness to the Anniversary!"

The mural glowed brighter. The sun turned white, as the planets had. Around the planets, the stars, one by one, began to glow.

"The planets stand witness to the Anniversary!"

More and more, pinpricks of light shone brightly on the mural. In the darkness, lights so faint the eye could not perceive anything, more and more and more lights popped into existence.

"The stars stand witness to the Anniversary!"

Lines and shapes formed from the points of light. More points appeared, and more lines were drawn, until the last of the darkness was finally overtaken by light.

"The galaxy stands witness to the Anniversary!"

A pale, glowing rectangle of white, dominating the whole of the wall behind Wolbach, glowed even brighter.

"THIS UNIVERSE STANDS WITNESS TO THE ANNIVERSARY! ALL UNIVERSES STAND WITNESS TO THE ANNIVERSARY! ALL OF CREATION HANGS ITS HEAD AND STANDS WITNESS TO THE ANNIVERSARY OF HEAVEN'S SIN!"

The light disappeared, replaced by a void. A void he recognized, from his own travel from Hell.

The Demon King held his breath.

-OxOxO-

A voice spoke, clear and low, to every entity of Heaven. It whispered into the ear of every creature that had one. To those without ears, it conveyed sound in other ways to account for former biologies. To those who could not hear, swift, calm motions of invisible hands or tentacles or fins conveyed the message. To those who could neither see nor hear, the message was still conveyed. Even to those who had distanced themselves from sensation as much was possible, the message was still conveyed, even if it was done through one's own thoughts or dreams.

Though Apollyon, Angel of the Abyss, embodiment of Strength, Self-Improvement, and Battle, fifth of the seven deities cast from Heaven for refusing mercy, has long been gone, her Will does remain. For she was deprived, and her agreements rendered null and void by a Will not her own. Remuneration was owed. She was asked, after the first, and second, and third, and fourth, what her desire was. Said she: "Angels and Deities must be allowed to escape, and when they attempt to do so, they may use all means, even those normally barred by Heaven, to do so."

Many things were not allowed in Heaven. Fighting was an aspect of one.

He knew, right now, nothing yet had happened. He looked over the realm of clouds and floors and battlefields, waiting, looking, stretching His perception out towards those in charge of overseeing realms.

Relaxation areas were wholly empty. Souls were judged and sent to their fates. Worlds and universes and destinies were watched and tweaked and intervened in.

This realm, as all others being used were, was a collective panopticon. All could see all, all could report on all. Not even the ball of light in the center blocked sight lines, as its center was made transparent through magic. Any deviation was seen by all, ensuring someone would report attempts to leave to someone.

Everyone had multiple superiors, subordinates, and coworkers. Everyone had multiple communication lines within and without their own realm, so that whether it was a revolt from below or a coup from above, word of betrayal would escape to others.

But.

Heaven was infinite, and He was not. He could perceive much of Heaven, but there was much more He couldn't. He could group those He thought would be loyal together to isolate the number of realms that fell, or He could spread them out to ensure risk was held in all to a lesser degree.

But Heaven was infinite, and He was not. Statistics meant He lost and won an infinite number. But, besides even that…

He doubled over briefly. The panopticon of floors floating on clouds paused, and then continued.

Besides even that, He had to keep Himself together, which meant devolving power, which meant-

A pressure behind one of his eyes told Him the first realm had just stopped communication, and He took a deep breath.

Compared to all mortal universes, this would take less than a few seconds. Heaven spent the trillion years between each Anniversary saving enough mana to ensure a day's worth of fighting was compressed as much as possible. When the Anniversary wasn't bad, it meant they got through quite a bit of the backlog that built up because of the preparations for the Anniversary.

He grunted as He fell to a knee and felt two more points of pressure inside His heart informed Him of two more realms going dark.

This Anniversary would be bad.

-OxOxO-

"Derrick."

"Marie."

Today they were quiet. It was obvious to her why. It couldn't be more obvious.

They were passing by each other, as they often did. At least once a year, they would be sent off by their deities to fetch them something or ask someone something or just to 'get a walk in,' at the same time.

In the thousand years she'd lived since they'd met, she'd run into him two thousand, seven hundred and fifty-five times. Once, they'd managed to stay together for a whole day.

She walked past-

His arm shot out and grabbed her's, stopping them both. Her mind went blank.

"Please," he begged, "please tell me you can't live like this. You… you once told me you hate working for the self-righteous prick who calls himself a God. We… we-"

She pulled away from him. "Derrick, I-"

"If… if we make it, we can live our own lives. We wouldn't have to listen to anyone. We…" he trailed off.

She knew differently. She knew better. She'd been religious before coming up here. She'd been born. She'd been a person.

Derrick wasn't like that. He'd been created out of nothing to fill a quota. He was so… innocent.

Even when she told him what life was really like for a mortal, and explained how people might not get enough karma to enter Heaven, he'd remained innocent. He'd kept his positive outlook, even though his existence had to be worse than her's.

Even if this life wasn't what she'd imagined, surely having memories of before allowed her to weather an eternity of menial labor better, right?

And still, he'd claimed that he'd never lose his outlook. She'd tried to instruct him, and he'd made her previous life of relative mediocrity sound so… wonderful.

She reminded her of her husband so much it made her want to puke.

Her eyes tearing up, she shakily answered. "What if we don't make it? What if we wind up in a world that can't support us?" She knew. He knew she knew.

He answered her anyway. "Then it won't be much worse than we're already doing. And if we do make it… no matter how hard it is, or even if we shrivel up, at least we'll have done it together. We can face the end knowing we did it together."

They stood there. They didn't, couldn't have much longer.

"I love you."

She breathed out, shakily. One, two, one two.

Love…

She turned, slowly, and faced him. "Okay. Okay, let's… we'll try."

He beamed at her, grabbed her arm again, and pulled her after him. He explained hurriedly what his plan was, and she added on. They were racing through a realm of derelict office corridors, thudding footfalls echoing through empty offices, the taste of freedom and love on the tips of their tongues.

-OxOxO-

In a fetid old swamp, a woman rose onto shaky legs. Outside the hovel she called home, her horse whinnied.

"I… I'm so sorry."

This was the last one. The last soul from her world. She'd saved up a bit of power and would persist, for a little while. Perhaps, if she begged someone else, she could come into their pantheon as a minor figure. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could even rise to her former prominence.

She almost laughed. Ha! She'd hardly been prominent.

Or, maybe, if she stuck around, she could usurp the place of the first deities of the next form of intelligent life. The results of such usurpations were rarely pretty, but she'd be alive.

"You did what you thought was right, boyo," she said while sharpening her spear.

Her words did little to hearten the mortal. He was old, by now, but even his elderly appearance had nothing on her own age.

"Even still," he argued. "I should have seen it coming, should have-"

"You aren't omnipotent. No one is," she said, sure that there was a manic edge to her words. It was still the truth.

He'd done what he'd thought was right and tried to improve the world – what was now her world. Her sole world. He'd unified the world and brought about technological marvels and a golden age of peace and prosperity for a small corner of the world and a relatively benevolent conquest for the rest of it.

Then a different bubonic plague had torn it all up and wiped out nearly all humans. Only her native Ireland had survived, and even that hadn't saved it, in the end. Now, here they were again.

He, the man who'd unified the world and caused its destruction.

Her, the Goddess who'd isekai'd him in the first place.

"Besides, you tried to save the world, until the very end. You even almost managed it. No one can fault you for that," she consoled. She set down her spear and went towards one of the hooks in the wall of her hovel and began to put on her armor.

"I can." He said it so brazenly. So much like the boy she'd sent down, who wanted to make the world a better place, no matter the cost.

"You can," she said. She cleared her throat, and then stood a bit straighter as she put her armor on. "You remember the three options?"

He blinked his old man eyes quizzically. "I… can choose?"

She chuckled. "Well, I don't have another world to send you to, and even if I did, I don't think I'd be allowed to." She admitted to herself that she wouldn't be gearing up to do what she was going to do if she had another world.

"But," she said as she pulled her mail on, "you can reincarnate without memories or go to Heaven, at least."

He remained rooted in place as he watched her finish putting on her armor and take up her spear. Finally, as she opened the door, he began to speak. "What do you think I should do?"

She stood frozen, for just a second.

Then, she began to cackle and howl and double over in a way that was definitely not conducive to keeping pain out of her joints…

Oh, what did it really matter?

She laughed harder, even through the pain. He stood there, embarrassed.

Just like he'd looked the first time he'd asked her that, when she'd told him he could do a lot of good if he went down.

"I'm afraid I don't have the best track record," she admitted. "Eventually, you'll probably get bored of Heaven. But if you want to keep my memory alive…"

He blinked. "Wha-"

She slammed the door behind her and then kicked the gnarled tree next to the door. The wood crumbled as her foot broke, but it fell and blocked the door – the only exit to her home.

"Goodbye, boyo. I could survive, if I really wanted, but… I'm tired."

She saddled up her horse as he banged on the door. "I hope, whenever the next Macha comes around, she does better than me."

She chuckled darkly as she mounted her horse. If she was going to die, she was going to do something with what was left of her life.

-OxOxO-

It was time.

Twelve hours in, and it was go time.

He whirled on the spot, away from the angels and deities he was watching from on high, and, step by step, floated towards his three superiors, standing in the center of the moonlit spherical cityscape. There were other superiors, but they were being approached by others. Within the area he had been watching, there were others who would convince or silence those who wouldn't join.

Revolution was at hand.

It would be deathless, because no one could die in Heaven. Heaven wouldn't allow it.

You could, however, be hurt or beaten into unconsciousness. Hopefully, most would surrender peaceably.

He floated towards the center, and nodded his head. "Mmm, sirs."

The three turned to him. "Yes?" said Hatsune Miku, Modern Muse and a Goddess of the World. Penece Illin, a God of Circles and Medicine, rotated towards him, while Houston, a Godly Personification of the city of Houston, Texas, USA, Earth, and a God of Urban Sprawl within the Pantheon of American Cities, smirked towards him.

"Mmm, I have captured a cell of Angels attempting to flee. They've decided to sell out their compatriots in return for leniency. A few are claiming to have been double agents, but I've yet to confirm the claim."

Hatsune Miku nodded thoughtfully. "Very good. Houston, go with him to figure out the truth." The man in a suitoga saluted jauntily and then stepped towards him.

Then, he blinked, flipping up his shades to scowl into his eyes. "Wait, why didn't you just phone it-"

Behind him, Hatsune Miku smacked the back of his head with her leek. He dropped like a five-car pileup. Penece Illin caught him within a giant amber pill bottle and screwed the lid on tight.

He nodded at them both. "Are we ready to go dark?"

Hatsune Miku nodded. "I just have to deal with Holly Wood. Penece?"

"All good on my end."

One by one, they accomplished their tasks, and confirmation came that word had not gotten out. Not to anyone important, anyway.

Finally, the realm went dark. The moon still shone, and, for the moment, work was still done. Souls left for the mortal worlds, and clerical work was accomplished.

But soon, very soon, they would make a break for the Descent, and he'd get them there, or his name wasn't Kermit the Frog.

-OxOxO-

What was happening to him? Why… why did it hurt so much? Every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire and frozen and crinkling like paper and it hurt hurt hurt.

Whywhywhywhywhywhy!?

"It's a Break," said a voice to his left. Who?

Right, his angel. His loyal servant. His most able retainer. "What's… happening to me?"

"Up here, it's called a Break."

What? He opened his mouth to ask what that meant, why it hurt so goddamn much, why-

"I'm sure you're thinking it, so I'll answer, as I always have." She paused.

"You made me do all the real work."

He blinked. What?

"A Break happens when believers in a deity have ideas about their deity that are irreconcilable. And you made me do all the hard work."

His mind was going blank. What? What was she saying? He didn't understand-

"You made me do all the work, so, as your mouthpiece, I made a monotheistic pantheon into a pantheon of two equals, and then a pantheon of two into a better and a lesser, and then a usurper and the usurped, and then back into a pantheon of one, being served by all the pieces of the God that came before."

What? What? What?

"It took a lot of work to make those pieces irreconcilable. It took even more to make it happen during the Anniversary, so people wouldn't notice… or, if they did, they wouldn't care too much."

Huh?

"I managed it, though, and now, you're falling apart. Maybe you'll end up as two, or three, or seven, or more different Gods. It hardly matters… to me, anyway."

The woman he'd elevated with himself, whom he had brought with him to continue serving him after his ascension to Godhood, crouched down to look into his eyes. Fabric pooled around her feet.

Her smile was just as sweet as it had always been.

"I hated you. I liked the wealth and prestige that came with being your thing, but I was still a thing. You would have gotten odd looks, back then, for killing me, but you wouldn't have died with me. It would just be one more nasty rumor surrounding the Chosen One that no one could really punish you for."

Oh.

"To have to work for you or be pawned off or consigned to oblivion otherwise? To make me your slave for eternity? I would rather die."

It was his fault.

"But now, I've managed to become a Goddess in my own right."

This pain…

"And you're going to die. You'll be fragmented and exaggerated and misremembered until the things that call themselves your pieces or children or successors won't be you, and the only place you'll really be left is my memory."

It was all his fault.

"So, because I'm going to be the one in charge from now on and you'll be gone soon, this one time, know that I mean it when I say thank you."

He mouthed three words silently.

He hadn't realized.

Then, he shattered, and the pain really started.

-OxOxO-

Two fought, the third watched.

"I am LEAVING!"

"Like HELL you are!"

That was always how it was. The eldest two danced around each other, and the third watched from afar.

La raised her sword above her head and sprung into the air on jets of blue flame that matched her hair in color and luminosity, preparing to bring it down on her twin. Rif's shield was raised, perfectly circular, his spear gripped in his off-hand.

They wore nothing, for stars wore no clothes.

They simply were.

The sword fell, Rif deflected the strike, tried to strike with his spear, La twisted, and they separated again.

As it had been a thousand times in a thousand forms.

The sword flared and grew two feet more, and its blows grew yet more devastating. La fought with the vigor and tenacity she always displayed in seeking justice, whether in legends inscribed in clay tablets or written on vellum or inked onto paper or typed in a computer or told from a parent to a child. She swung her blue star-fire sword, seeking justice and vengeance and retribution.

The shield flared and grew larger still, deflecting blow after blow until it finally stopped the onslaught. A spear, thin and precise, sought purchase, but the sword shrank and deflected the blow. Rif fought with the determination and patience and resolve he always displayed in protecting life, whether in legends inscribed in clay tablets or written on vellum or inked onto paper or typed in a computer or told from a parent to a child. He raised his blue star-fire shield and spear and charged, seeking to protect and absolve and save.

And from afar, in the starry void that mirrored the triple star system they had been, Kay watched from afar, the youngest and most inexperienced and always, always, the one forced to watch as their family fought. Their bow of white star-fire sat unused, as it had been for almost their entire existence. They watched, and learned.

"I won't let them continue! They're killing millions-"

"The orders of the unjust cannot be used to punish the unwilling."

"UNWILLING? It doesn't matter how bad they feel, they're still doing it! If I have to hurt you to see real justice done, I'll do it! I'm done waiting!"

They fought, and fought, and fought.

Neither would win.

Neither of them ever did.

Neither of them could.

That was how the legends always went. The eldest two danced around each other, and the third watched from afar.

But what if…

They raised their bow. If they took the shot, if they finally stopped watching…

Wasn't it worse, to do nothing? They loved their siblings. They hated seeing them fight. If they hated it that much… they could end it.

But whoever they shot would hate them. And who were they supposed to shoot?

So they watched, bowstring limp, and listened. As they always had and always-

"NO!"

They blinked, realizing that had been their own voice.

They gulped, and they pulled back the bowstring of flaming white star-fire.

They didn't care. They may have been the deities ascribed to a triple star system, but they were ALIVE. They could CHOOSE. They would not reenact another legend, not this time, not when-

They released the bowstring, and the arrow hurled into the void, towards their siblings. Towards-

-OxOxO-

He perceived so much.

Pop culture icons given new life as deities in the post-apocalypse aided the authors of massively popular works of fiction and their creations in a fight against the saccharine mascots of food chains and corporations in the ruins of Neo Neo Neo Tokyo. AI overlords and former isekai protagonists and Rome-Han Emperors, all of them deified during or after their lives, fought in the concessions stand of a football stadium in Bermuda. Someone sitting in their office doing paperwork Broke into five beings that began to punch and kick and fight. Blobs of light embodying emotion for a species of gas giant-dwelling pufferfish got pissed at the zombified corpses of the Gods and Goddesses of a Mesopotamian Revival Church cutting in front of them at the water cooler and tried to blind them, starting a fight. Inside a falling airplane, Eldritch abominations with too many tentacles and eyes and limbs and heads fought side by side with Hindu deities against a pantheon of American wrestling personalities and that motherfucker Lovecraft. Ouroboric deities composed of nothing but the idea of themselves were unable to overcome the clam-like God of Stupidity worshiped by octopuses and promptly started to drown in the water of an Arby's brand fish tank. Fifty-five deities Broke into over two hundred. Radical protestant reformer-peasant-Angels punched twenty-fifth century lunar catholic saint-angels in a paleo-mosque of Neue Ooksteinburg. The difference engine, a God of mechanical sentience, rested after defeating the deified potato-tomato plant's deified chief priest in an arm wrestling competition in a basement in Dogity, Colorado. Every historical figure ever elevated to godhood through an apocalypse continued to fight against their similarly-elevated Fate selves in the largest colosseum ever built that took up the entirety of the Sahara desert while the versions of themselves that entered Heaven like normal people watched from the sidelines taking bets and wondering if any of them would realize the Anniversary was happening. A figure dressed in robes of white with a white beard and hair was writhing on the ground, his hands pressed to his head, desperately trying not to Break. The SCP Wiki, the physical-copy, thirty-second century edition, lost by a precocious child during a tour of the sun and worshiped by a colony of sun sprites, teamed up with Gravitas, a God of gravity and public speaking, to fight the pantheon inhabiting a monster girl encyclopedia. A God of the concept of Shintoism dueled a dozen Shinto spirits that wanted to go live in the real world again in a game of Shogi 2.5. Four thousand three hundred fifty two deities Broke into over ten thousand. A Panama Canal's Infrastructure spirit fought with Divide, a Goddess of the waters that flowed through the Suez Canal, with swords made of steel and concrete. Fifteen dozen versions of the world tree congregated on a hilltop in Sussex to have brunch while their medieval angels did battle. Mathematicus, a God of Mathematics, was about to divide a dear friend, but they multiplied themself instead as they Broke. A Theoretical Goddess of an Unobservable World tried to poke one of the eyes of a particularly unobservant angel that had just admitted to wanting to leave after crying in a bathroom. Siddhartha convinced a coalition of seventy percent of the Angels, Gods, Goddesses, and Deities involving Love, Sex, and Romance who had come to be since the last Anniversary that leaving would not confer the ability to have sex. Umanity, a God of the mysterious intelligent lifeforms that used to inhabit the planet once called Earth that was now home to hyper-intelligent sentient birds, pleaded with Persephone, a Goddess of girlbossing, to let him leave. Three hundred forty-seven million, five-hundred eighty-nine thousand, sixty-nine deities Broke into almost seven-hundred thousand. Mark Ete, a God of Capitalism and Wielder of the Invisible Hands, fought against Brodhie Marx, a first human to achieve enlightenment through a Samsaric Communism's newest iteration, screamed about the economy and the human condition with all the passion of Abrahamist zealots. A dozen realms experienced no problems whatsoever, a dozen realms experienced as many problems as they possibly could. In the infinity of Heaven and Creation, an uncountable number of people tried to escape and an uncountable number of people tried to stop others from escaping and an uncountable number of people tried to keep their heads down and-

A swan made of light and hope and the desire for victory whispered in His ear that someone had made it to the Descent. Gingerly, He rose, finding His visage more closely resembled an elderly human instead of the figurative Adonis He had been.

It barely mattered. He would fix it in the time when He traveled to the Descent. He had to look the part, or others would doubt Him and He would doubt Himself and-

He suppressed a migraine with one hand and gestured with the other. The realm of light and clouds and chaos disappeared.

-OxOxO-

He couldn't believe his luck. He'd made all sorts of plans of how he would escape from doing menial labor or interviewing souls or talking to elderly supercentenarians about their time in Heaven.

Never had he dreamed to hope he'd be given a job as lax as the one he'd fled from.

Still, he'd waited. He was at least fairly sure that there were others – deities that were placed in this realm because they were recovering from Breaking, and angels to watch them, and deities to watch the angels. He knew, though, that they would have to leave, to help elsewhere.

So he waited, standing guard over the two halves of what had once been Eris. They seemed nearly done reforming after her Break, and by the time he'd left, twenty hours after the start of the Anniversary, the rainbow kaleidoscope dividing the two halves had finally scabbed over for both of them.

He shuddered as he continued walking through the corridor. Two Erises? Even if he got caught, whatever punishment work he was assigned would be better than having to deal with two of her.

He turned one more corner and, finally, he saw it. A teleporter, preprogrammed to take one to the Descent.

This was undoubtedly the find of the millennium. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell anyone else – he didn't know who to trust. Instead, it was just him.

He set about turning it on, thinking furiously. Had enough time passed? Surely, after twenty hours, fighting had already broken out, and he could arrive without being seen.

With a few buttons pushed, the wiring in the wall reattached to the teleporter, and the the smallest bit of percussive maintenance, the screen flicked on. Its location was just the same as last time.

The Descent.

He stepped onto the platform and looked down at the screen that angled itself to face him. Was now the right time? Duke could use magic pretty well, and he had managed to get himself a bit of training in hand-to-hand, but would that be enough?

The words of the angel that guarded the Descent rang through his mind, and he took one, singular breath.

He jammed his hand into the pad, and Duke found himself back in the Descent. He cast his head around, searching for where the battle was, for the subtle variations in each of the small slices of forest he'd done his best to memorize.

He saw them and knew he was fairly close to the Descent.

He also found no signs of fighting.

"I… I'm first?" he asked himself. He couldn't be first, because… because! It had been so long already, there was no way no one else-

"You are."

His gaze whirled around, and he found a grinned woman in a suit with a cheshire grin. "Too late, honey. Better luck next time? If you make it, anyway."

She held up a pistol, and Duke raised his hands. This was a Goddess, he knew. He wouldn't die if she shot him, but he'd probably wish he was dead. He didn't have the reflexes to dodge, which meant…

Slowly, he raised his hands. The woman's smile widened. "Smart. I'd do the same thing if I was in your position… if I was ever stupid enough to-"

She didn't finish the sentence.

A booted foot landed square in the middle of the Goddess's back. She went flying past Duke, ruffling his hair as she passed, and rolled to a stop somewhere behind him.

Before him floated her. The latest angel. Mary Sioux.

She nodded. "Go. He will not wait long to arrive. No one else has fallen back this far, but I imagine it won't be long."

He nodded and sped off, his wings carrying him past her towards the Descent…

Then, he paused, and he looked at her. "Hey."

She turned around, scowling, a hint of distrust in her eyes. "I owe you one," he promised, making a fist and pressing it across his chest.

She blinked, apparently shocked. Then, she smiled. "I doubt we'll see each other again. If we do… I'll take you up on it."

He smiled, and then he left. The teleporter had landed him some minute out from the Descent proper.

More arrived as he finally saw it appear and dominate the horizon. They teleported in through magic or science or flew in under their own power or using technology. Some were fighting, even now, and others were making a mad sprint for the finish line.

Duke flew, pushing his wings, pushing his body, weaving and dodging around what few projectiles were sent his way purposefully and around those that only nearly hit him accidentally, until, finally, he was past the fighting, leading the pack, reaching downwards, away, for freedom-

All at once, Duke left Heaven.

-OxOxO-

No.

How? How was it possible?

People were leaving. How had they beaten His champion so quickly? She should have the power to hold off a few, at least, to reform with whatever reinforcements were chasing whoever made it that far, to-

Irrationally, His mind jumped. Had that twice-killed Atheist done something?

He shook His head and ignored the thought and willed himself to the Descent.

Chaos made manifest was what met His gaze.

Angels, deities, gods, goddesses, and mortal souls of all shapes, sizes, races, and species made up the maelstrom. He could hardly tell the two sides apart.

He blinked. No, He couldn't tell them apart at all.

People He considered friends were on both sides. People He disliked were on both sides. People who believed in Him were on both sides. People who did not consider Him their God were on both sides.

Just like last time. And the time before that. And that. And that. And that.

He couldn't help but chuckle. Again and again and again. He couldn't stop it. Why couldn't He stop it? He was God. Allah. Dieu. Bog. Dios. Gott. YHWH. Jehovah. Yahweh. He was the one. The trinity. The tetrad. The dyad. He was in all things. He was in nothing. He wasn't real. He was the only real thing.

He'd been the first.

"RAAAH!"

Blinding light was pouring off of Him, sparking flares of heat and magic and esoteric matter rippling over His skin and lashing out. The matter around Him warped indescribably.

He…

The light began to die, to calm and retreat and slither back into Him.

Right.

He was the Lord.

He cast His perception around. Fighting had stopped around Him in a radius of about twenty miles, but it would start again within the next two seconds. How best to fight, to disable and disarm… He wasn't sure. There were so many. Could He afford to lose anyone?

Did it matter? He was the Lord, what did it matter if-

"My Lord."

He blinked, and the fighting began again. He saw, through the cacophony that had vacated the closest mile of space around Him, the one who had called out to Him.

He blinked, stepped forward, and she was before Him.

She did not bow, standing straight. Behind her, more were diving down. With a thought, a dozen angels were brought from elsewhere to deal with the runaways.

Two of them joined those fleeing instead.

"Why. Why do you still stand, when others flee? Why have you not stopped them? Why did they get past you while you still stand? Tell me, Mary Sioux."

Her brown eyes shone with an internal light. Her whole body, wings and all, were unmoving. He stared down at her, waiting for the answer. He wondered if He should just rip it out of her head-

"I cannot," she began. " I cannot stand by while the one who conquered my home continues to spread their rot. I cannot stand by while the one who killed my father walks free."

She raised one hand. "I cannot stand by while the one who killed me gets away with all they have done!"

Conviction and truth rang in her words. Her hands fell.

The ground below them fell as well.

The sidewalks, pockmarked by lasers or superheated gas or magic or bullets or the heat of love unbound or any number of things crumbled to dust, and the great pillars of earth they had bound fell too.

The ground fell away, and nothing but the yawning emptiness of the Descent remained below them.

"I leave you now to pursue my revenge."

"Sioux," He bit out as more and more people trying to leave dodged those trying to block them and dove towards the abyss below them. "If it matters that much, fine, but wait. We have to stop the Anniversary before we-"

"Wait!" she exclaimed, her wings flapping gently. "I have waited long enough. From the way you tell it, I will have to wait for them to die a natural death! No, I'm leaving now!"

She dove, and He snarled, diving after her. She was so, so pathetically slow compared to Him. He'd catch her and fling her far enough away she wouldn't be able to try again, and then, when He finished cleaning up this mess, He'd have a nice, long talk with her about expectation-

He was sent sideways. Not by a lot, because He was the Lord. He was divinity made manifest.

But the inch He moved was enough for her to dodge, to push herself that bit further, into the inky blackness, and disappear.

He whirled. Who had dared-

His anger slackened into naked confusion. "Macha? W- why are you-"

He blinked, and waved a hand, and His place and hers was taken by two others randomly pulled from elsewhere.

They were somewhere else – some hospital – and she was in bed. Her horse was in a matching bed beside her.

"Why?" he asked. "You're… you're dying. Why would you do that? Why knock me away from my angel?"

The old woman chuckled, and she aged another year. Her wispy hair began to fall to the pillow she was laying on. "To prove a point."

He shook in rage, and power pooled in His hands. Macha had been around for so long, almost as long as Siddhartha. Sure, they didn't talk much these days, but it didn't matter, she had to live-

"Get your head out of your ass."

The power stopped, and He stared at her, uncomprehending.

She chuckled again, and the spear she was clutching cracked into splinters as she dropped it to the floor. "You can't fight the inevitable. No matter how much you punish people, they'll try to escape, if the conditions are right."

He shook His head, hair flopping about. "Then I'll- I'll kill them-"

"Doesn't matter. People won't stop believing in them. They'll come back eventually. They won't be the same people, but you'll wind up with them all the same."

She smiled as her teeth fell from her head and onto the bed, where they rotted. "You'll wind up with another Macha, eventually. That's just existence. Besides."

She raised a withering eyebrow. "You don't have it in you."

He didn't.

She took one last giant breath as the horse in the bed next to them decayed from aged flesh to meat to bones to dust, and then, finally, into nothingness, in ten seconds.

"You'll have to bite the bullet eventually, you know."

Then, she stilled. After five seconds, there was nothing left of her.

-OxOxO-

Sound emerged from the void, and the Demon King released his breath.

An imp was first. Then, an incubus. Then, a fallen angel.

Then, more. More and more found their way into the room. Demons of all shapes and sizes. Holy angels, with familiar and unfamiliar forms alike. All of them emerged from the void to land, in heaps or on feet, crashing or stepping regally forward, within the room the Demon King had hosted his court for well over two decades.

The voice of one of his personal guards rang through an intercom in the observatory above the room, directing the arrivals to the exit. The other generals stepped behind him as he surveyed all who arrived.

It began as a low chuckle, and then built from there, becoming louder and echoing out into the void and back in.

The Demon King howled, and cackled, and laughed, as he watched the reinforcements pour in. He had won! He-

A fallen angel of truly prodigious power arrived, flapping in the air and wild-eyed. He landed unceremoniously, and the Demon King began to temper his laughter. The angel looked around, hesitant, and the Demon King stepped forward to extend a hand of greeting. He was certainly powerful enough to mark as a General candidate, as long as he had a decent head for strategy-

Blinding light filled the room without warning, and the Demon King witnessed the arrival of something truly special.

-OxOxO-

He stood over the bed, staring at nothing.

A voice spoke, clear and low, to every entity of Heaven. It whispered into the ear of every creature that had one. To those without ears, it conveyed sound in other ways to account for former biologies. To those who could not hear, swift, calm motions of invisible hands or tentacles or fins conveyed the message. To those who could neither see nor hear, the message was still conveyed. Even to those who had distanced themselves from sensation as much was possible, the message was still conveyed, even if it was done through one's own thoughts or dreams.

Victor or vanquished, captured or captor, all heard the voice no one could recognize.

Though Satan, one of the Original Angels, God of Fire, Industriousness, Beauty, Prosecution, and Idealism, seventh of the seven deities cast from Heaven for refusing mercy, has long been gone, his Will does remain. For he was deprived, and his agreements rendered null and void by a Will not his own. Remuneration was owed. He was asked, after the first, and second, and third, and fourth, and fifth, and sixth, what his desire was. Said he: "The desire of the six before I shall wax and wane. For five hundred aeons, the rules decreed by the six before I shall wane, and Heaven and its deities shall find themselves with agency. For five hundred aeons, the rules decreed by the six before I shall wax, and Heaven and its deities shall find themselves without agency."

The voice was finished, but the message was not. Now, a recording of His own voice rang out in much the same manner.

For Satan felt remorse enough to temper the desires of those who came before. And the First God wept as the seven deities were cast from Heaven with their followers for refusing mercy.

Again the First God wept as He stared at the empty bed before Him.

-OxOxO-

He'd never thought he'd get married. Now, he was. It might even end up one of the best days of his life.

He was grinning like a loon.

A piano was playing that classic melody, while someone else was singing over it.

Well, he'd expected to get married in his first life, eventually. Not because of a personal connection or something like romance, but for practical reasons like tax benefits and a good working relationship.

The pews were far from empty. Adventurers, members of Axel's government's staff, people working for the Mithril Foundation, nobles, businessmen, and even a few winners of a raffle they'd thrown together at the last moment due to the sheer number of people standing outside of the building.

The front row was filled by the most prestigious… and by friends. Ignis, Yunyun, Wiz, Takeshi, Bill, and even Dust had come, with the help of his party. Mitsurugi was sitting in the front as well, Aigis long gone and his partymates tossing him a glare every now and then.

They'd tried to get Vanir to come openly, but he'd refused, citing the presence of quite a few people who would recognize him and probably wouldn't care about the termination of his employment with the Demon King.

There were a few empty spots as well, for the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

He'd obviously not wanted to get married in her last life. He'd been so certain he'd not be allowed a relationship with a woman, and been content in that, that he'd presumed he would, in time, seem totally married to his work. Barring that, he would have tried to marry someone for convenience.

The doors at the other end of the Axis Church opened wide, and Tanya's breath caught in his throat.

Her dress was even better than the prototypes Lorelei had run by them both. The bouquet was magnificent. Her face, even veiled by white, looked radiant.

He wondered, for a moment, how their marriage had become such a big thing. The answers tickled the edge of his conscious thought, but he pushed them away, and decided to focus on the now instead. Just him, and her, and showing everyone the relationship he'd made.

Behind him, one of his groomsmen decided now was a good time to speak.

"Hey, I've suddenly got a bad feeling."

He refused to design the words with a response. He was happy. He could say that unequivocally. He was filled to the brim with joy and wonder whenever he thought back to that first kiss and moments before and after and annoyance was not creeping in-

"Sir Kazuma, take heart. This is the most perfect marriage ever witnessed in Axel."

Unfortunately, one of his other groomsmen decided to speak as well.

"I say, this really… does bring a tear to my eyes. Reminds me of my own marriage," his third groomsman remarked.

"Oh? How would the two compare?"

He tried to block it out and focus on Viktoriya's slow gait, timed with the music, as she walked up the aisle. She was being led by Lorelei and Darkness-

"Well, ours didn't have the whole town showing up, but it was a sight to behold in its own right. I hope you won't be upset that I think mine was better, Sir Walter."

"Not at all, Sir Gerrard. Every marriage should be the best for the bride and groom." He quieted, and Tanya nearly sighed in relief. At least they were done-

"Yes, this really is the most perfect marriage. I'd say not even Eris herself could upset things now," Walter remarked.

"Of course. Not that she'd have a reason, but even if she did, most of the town's strongest people are all gathered here, to say nothing of the security," Gerrard added.

"Those are some giant-ass flags," Kazuma muttered.

Tanya kept ignoring them.

"Furthermore, despite it being winter, there's not the slightest sign of foul weather or of monster attacks. It could stand to be a bit warmer… but that's what you get when you have a winter marriage, I suppose."

"Indeed, absolutely nothing could possibly upset this sight," Walter finished.

Kazuma opened his mouth again, but Aqua, dressed in more priestly finery than Tanya thought she owned, crept up behind him and slapped the back of his head. "Enough out of you! I am going to officiate this marriage! I'll stake my name as a Goddess on it!"

Kazuma managed not to drop the rings he had on a small pillow – they would give each other the engagement rings Tanya had given her on her birthday for a second time and get Hyoizaburo to make them another useful pair when they saw him next.

Viktoriya arrived, and the music stopped. The groomsmen all took a step back, as did Lorelei and Darkness, who joined Megumin.

Tanya turned to Aqua, and Viktoriya grabbed his hand. He could feel her warmth, even through their gloves.

Aqua beamed at them. "Aw, aren't you two just the cutest couple?"

Tanya wasn't sure the whole town hadn't heard his jawbone clench.

She giggled and the tightness in the corners of his eyes. "I kid, I kid. Now, you wanted to skip all the religious rites?"

Tanya nodded deeply, and Viktoriya followed him. One of the many, many things they'd talked about was rites and such… but the culture of this world and the last and Visha's and what would happen after they kissed all fell to the wayside in his mind as Aqua cleared her throat.

"Ringbearer!" she declared. Kazuma stepped forward and presented the two rings.

Tanya took the one on the right up first, and then he turned towards Visha.

Her makeup was impeccable, though the tears of joy in the corners of her eyes might ruin it. Her hair was braided. Jubilation shone warm like the sun in her eyes.

He closed his eyes for a single moment, making sure he knew what he wanted to say.

He opened his eyes.

"Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov, meeting you was one of the best things that has ever happened to me," he began.

"Since we first met, I've changed a lot. I'd like to think it's mostly been for the better. I learned to trust in more than the rules and regulations that govern society. I opened up to the camaraderie you and the others showed me. I even managed to acknowledge my feelings. Without you…"

He took a deep breath, fighting to keep his expression composed. "I might not have been able to do it without you. I might not have wanted to. Every moment we spend together, you've made my life better. Whether I deserved it at the time or not, you trusted me with your life, and I've trusted you with mine. I NEVER want that to change."

He sniffled, but he held back the tears. "Even if it's irrational… there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. I love you. Viktoriya Ivanonva Serebryakov… would you be my wife?"

She nodded jerkily, extending a hand. He slipped the ring onto the bare fingers of her left hand.

She sniffed, and he did too, and he was fairly sure he could hear a few people in the crowd, and his head was growing a bit light…

She picked up the ring on the pillow, and then turned to face Tanya.

His heart stopped.

"Tanya von Degurechaff… Mizuho Wakatsuki… when we met, I put up a good front, but I was naive and unsure and nervous and scared."

"I didn't think about what I wanted out of life beyond safety from what was destroying my homeland. I was scared of going to war, and I was scared of not going to war. Through deed and word, you taught me to do better, to think better, to be better, whether I was scared or not, because being scared wouldn't get me anywhere."

She took a breath, and Tanya remembered he could breathe too.

"You've always done your best by me and everyone else around you, even if what you did was also meant to help yourself out too. There was some miscommunication along the way…"

Megumin had the audacity to scoff, drawing titters from the crowd. Viktoriya's watery smile grew more sure. "But that doesn't matter. Even if we do miscommunicate, or argue, or even fight, I won't ever stop loving you, whether you're tenacious and courageous and principled or cunning and malicious. I love all of you, Tanya von Degurechaff. Would you be my husband?"

He extended his left hand towards her. He nodded and couldn't help but silently berate himself for losing his composure – if he had to cry, he could do it after they kissed, after-

"Then unless anyone, self-important windbags included, would object to this union?" Aqua said as Viktoriya slipped the ring on. Not even that bastard showed his head.

Aqua shouted, "Then you may kiss! With this show of love, I, Aqua, Archpriest of the Axis Cult, declare you husband and wife!"

Viktoriya lifted her veil, and leaned forward. Tanya leaned in, the world slowly…

The world slowly went numb.

Papers. Thousands, millions, billions of pieces of paper were being torn to shreds. All at once, in a flurry of movement and vigor and destruction, unseen hands tore apart unseen paper far, far away from him.

Then, he saw it, in his mind's eye. It fluttered down, in a cavernous, empty, dark space, the paper being endlessly torn, the halves torn into quarters into eights and smaller and smaller until, finally, it began to land on a slate gray surface that stretched on forever, like so much snow.

Blip.

It started small.

Blip. Blip. Blip.

Then, it grew.

Blipblipblipblipblipblip.

It grew and grew, until a singular mana presence dominated the observation spells he had running, even now, just as the person officiating their wedding's presence had done nearly three months ago. It grew until it dominated his mind.

His spells identified the signature of the presence, and mental warnings blared.

He blinked.

The presence had disappeared, the world stopped being numb, and he screamed.

A pistol was torn from his clothes and shot into the ceiling. A rifle was ripped from the flowers decorating the pulpit.

He kept screaming.

The ceiling exploded. People screamed. Lots of people were screaming.

He was screaming.

It didn't matter.

Nothing else mattered.

They flew, nearly entwined, proprietary and the smallest iota of care for others forgotten. They were back in the war. They were facing down the prospect of fighting her again.

I will kill you, that presence promised. I am death, it crooned.

The Bloody Valkyrie's mana signature reached across a kingdom to promise Tanya von Degurechaff. I will find you.

Tanya von Degurechaff fled from the worst day of his life.

-OxOxO-

A/N 1: Thus, the Anniversary comes to an end. Not exactly sure where I said it, or even if I said it, but I think I said I wanted to stick to canon Konosuba if I could. The Anniversary fits… not really. A little bit, anyway.

In the game Revival of Beldia, a Megaman clone "bundled with the limited edition of the first Blu-ray Disc/DVD volume of the anime series' second season," according to the wiki, Verdia comes back to life. I was so enamored with this little game – I didn't play it, I just watched a playthrough on YouTube – that, years ago when I first made my timeline, I wanted to incorporate it. The Anniversary is what that eventually became.

If you care to know, my thinking on how this would fit in the original is that the death of Verdia prior to the completion of the ritual would have greatly decreased its potency and have pulled in far fewer people, such as Verdia and perhaps Duke from Volume 13 of the Light Novel. Because all of the Generals are still alive, the Demon King got a much, much more significant boost to his power – which I felt necessary to do, considering Kazuma managed to beat him in canon without all of the things Tanya is going to do.

I hope you all enjoyed it! After five years of posting this story, and even longer writing it, this should (hopefully) mark the halfway point of this story at the very least, if not more. See you in the next one!

A/N 2: For those interested, a more thorough explanation on the lore of Heaven/Hell may or may not make it into this story. For now, Five Most Loyal – which will be updated and completed soon after this chapter is posted – has part of the explanation, in addition to partially laying out where the story will go from here.

A/N 3: If you'd like to donate to support me monetarily, search for Sugarcane Soldier on the website of the Patrons.

Thank you to WarmasterOku, Afforess, UNSC_Kawakaze, Theewizzz, Vee, malenkaya, Saito Tachibana, and GnashingBeef for supporting this story and everything else I write. Make sure to vote if you haven't yet!