"A boy becomes a man when duty calls, whether he is still a child or already a young warrior.
When the spear lands in thy hand, dost thou pause?
When the wolf claws at thy chest, dost thou cry out in angst?
When the hunt is ruined by one mistake, dost thou abandon the day?
No. A man has a duty, no matter his age."
— Tyr the Savior, to Athena the Seer
As recorded by the Recorder
Scene 1
"You'll be fine, son."
Mother's hand moved gently over the living weapon resting across my lap.
Shadow had taken its crow form today, black feathers folded tight against its body while its eyes followed every small movement in the room. My weapon. My companion. A living blade meant to grow with me until I was worthy of stepping fully into Lord Thanatos's Reaper ranks.
Mother stroked its head like it was harmless.
That alone would have made most warriors question her sanity if they did not already know better.
"You are the most respected tribe leader among our tribes," she continued. "Blessed by Lord Thanatos in person. You met Lady Eris before becoming a Demi-God. Two of the Five Kings of Lord Pluto have already acknowledged you."
She said it like that should settle everything.
It did not.
The room around us was warm, quiet, and carved into the old black stone of the Black Sun Tribe's highest dwelling. Not a palace. I had refused that word for a million years no matter how often the younger generations tried to sneak it into ceremony. It was a hunter's hall made too large by history. Polished bones from Divine Beasts hung along the walls beside old spears, cracked shields, and the first broken bow I had used when Lord Ten was still small enough to be mistaken for a mortal child.
Incense burned in a clay bowl near the shrine, thick with the scent of dark earth, dried herbs, and fruit offerings left for Lord Ten. Outside, I could hear the distant sound of warriors training below the cliffside settlement—feet striking packed earth, weapons colliding, beast cries echoing from the lower pens where the younger Hounds proved whether they had more courage than sense.
Mother was here in her vessel form.
Even like this, even with most of her attention split elsewhere, she carried more pressure than the room should have been able to hold. Not crushing. Not threatening. Just heavy in the way deep soil was heavy after rain. Her true body remained within her duties as Earth Mother of the NetherRealms, but this vessel had answered my summons with the same ease she used to answer when I was still a boy.
She had come from Lord Hades's palace, where she studied and helped care for Princess Yin, the newest child under Lord Hades's protection.
And somehow, she still found time to scold me.
"Mother," I said carefully, raising both hands before her dark-skinned hand could come down on my head, "that is different from being summoned by Lord Hades himself. Lord Thanatos only communicates through divine messages from his Star Realm of Death. At best, he sends a Head Reaper to guide me toward the next step."
Her eyes narrowed.
I immediately regretted speaking.
"You had better be grateful I cannot beat sense into you before you appear in Lord Pluto's court," she said. "Otherwise, you would bring shame to our tribe as the First Tribe under the Underworld."
Shadow gave a soft caw from my lap.
Traitor.
Mother ignored it and stepped closer.
"You have already been given more trust than many gods can claim. You led our Black Sun Tribe into prosperity for these last million years. You advanced into the Minor God ranks. And yes, even with that foolish sense of hopelessness you carry because you have not found your way past Mid Minor God."
I looked away.
She caught it immediately.
"The men who train like mad dogs to be accepted into Lord Ten's Blessed Warriors of the Hounds are led by you," she continued. "You tamed the Divine Beasts that wreaked havoc across our world. You trained Lord Ten's Fairy Angel of Darkness, Ayin, and Eli, the Demonic Elf. Two leading figures of their sister tribes."
Her voice softened slightly.
"And you were entrusted with Xer, the Half-Divine Child of Death."
I tried not to smile.
Failed.
Mother's mouth curved.
"Do I need to continue? You are already smiling, son."
"I am not."
"You are."
Shadow hopped from my lap to her arm, wings fluttering as if even my own weapon had decided to side against me.
Mother stood taller, flexing her arms with exaggerated pride.
"My Little Spear," she said, "who swore he would protect me after his father died over 1.2 million years ago. Slayer of the Fire Hound of Fire River Mountain."
Despite myself, the smile widened.
She laughed, and for a moment the weight of the NetherRealms around her softened into something older.
Something from before gods, courts, and summons.
"Undefeated Warrior of the Black Suns. Founder of the Hounds. Bale Sun, the quietest hunter."
Then her hand settled on my head.
This time, I did not dodge.
"My son," she said, voice lower now, "who will make me proud."
She leaned down and kissed my forehead.
For a moment, I was not a Minor God.
Not a tribe leader.
Not founder of an order every young warrior across three sister tribes dreamed of joining.
Not a hunter summoned by the Lord of the Underworld.
I was just her son again.
That somehow made the summons feel heavier.
I exhaled slowly and rose from my seat.
"Then I have much to prepare for if I am to answer Lord Hades's summons."
Shadow returned to my shoulder, feathers brushing against my cheek.
Mother smiled and tapped the crow's beak lightly.
"Come along, Shadow. I have duties to attend elsewhere."
Before she turned away, I stepped forward and kissed her forehead.
The mark there no longer resembled the old animal-blood symbol of the Dark Sun from our earliest days. It had transformed into a true Divine Mark, similar in shape to Lord Ten's, though softened by the authority she now carried as Earth Mother of the NetherRealms.
Abi had left her mortal role behind.
The closest priestess of Lord Ten had become something greater.
That duty had passed to Ayin now.
Mother had become the earth beneath the NetherRealms themselves.
And I—
I had been summoned by Death's King.
So I straightened my back, steadied my breath, and prepared to answer.
"We are warriors. We do not go to Hell or Heaven. Our fate is ours to command as men of war — not the Astral Gods, nor the so-called Enlightened Ones.
We know the stakes when we step forward. My brothers and my enemy-brothers all know the honors at risk.
Do not delude us from our call in this life or the next. I can only pray there is a land of warriors waiting in the afterlife."
— Thor, the Blood Demon of Odin the Butcher
As recorded by the Recorder
Scene 2
Ayin POV
"Why did he summon all the Hounds today? This hasn't happened in nearly twenty thousand years."
The question drifted up from the field below, swallowed almost immediately by the greater noise of the gathering.
The Hound Cliff had not been this full in ages.
From where I stood near the upper ridge, I could see hundreds of thousands gathered beneath us—Humans, Elves, and Fairies packed across the training fields, cliff paths, and outer terraces. Every one of them had reached at least Demi-God rank, the barest requirement Lord Juris had carved into law when the Hounds first began expanding beyond the Black Sun Tribe.
The field below looked less like an army and more like a living storm held in place by discipline.
Human warriors stood in dense formations, wearing beast-hide mantles, bone plates, dark leather, and iron marked with the Black Sun. Elven groups gathered in cleaner lines, their armor shaped from blackened wood, pale metal, and living vinework that shifted gently around their shoulders. The Fairies hovered in layered ranks above the ground, wings glowing in soft bands of silver, violet, and black-green light, each formation arranged like constellations waiting for command.
Below them all, the cliff face carried Lord Juris's rules.
They were carved deep into the black stone, each line large enough to be read from the far end of the field.
To step back is to be defeated for a lifetime.
To run in defeat is to know Death of the Spirit.
A Hound guards first, hunts second, and dies before abandoning the pack.
Old laws.
Hard laws.
Laws Lord Bale had accepted without softening because the Hounds were never meant to be gentle.
Usually, gatherings of this scale only happened during wars between units over tribal resources or rankings. Even then, the numbers were never like this. Never every branch. Never every unit. Never with the old beast pens emptied and the upper terraces opened.
"Who knows," another Hound answered below. "Could be another tournament for leading spots among Lord Bale's personal units. Or yours and Lady Eli's. It's been a while since this generation fought it out properly."
A rough laugh followed.
"The young ones haven't even taken part in a Demi-God War yet. They'll finally see what dying feels like."
The response earned laughter from some and nervous silence from others.
I understood both.
Among the Hounds, death during training was not always permanent, but it was never treated like a game. Dying taught the body fear. Coming back taught the spirit whether it had learned anything.
Then the mood shifted.
Not fully.
Just enough for attention to turn.
"Look," someone muttered. "That bastard is here too."
"Looks like he's in a bad mood as usual."
"When isn't he?"
"One of the priestesses must have woken him up. They're the only ones he won't attack outright for disturbing him."
The disgust in their voices came laced with envy they thought they were hiding.
They were not.
A black horse entered the field from the northern path.
Its hooves struck the stone without sound, leaving faint traces of grey mist where each step landed. The rider kept his hood up despite the sunlight, his posture loose in a way that made the tension around him worse. A long weapon rested against his back, wrapped in cloth marked by Death Laws too heavy for most Demi-Gods to stare at for long.
Xer.
The latest child to train under Lord Bale.
The Horseman placed here instead of in Hell with his brother, who was already waging war among Devils and Demons as Young Lord Juris's general. That alone soured Xer's mood more than he was willing to admit out loud, especially to Lord Ten.
He had been personally placed among the Hounds by Lord Ten and given the same treatment any of us close to him received.
Training by Bale.
That training had become the most sought-after reward among the Hounds, regardless of race. Warriors competed, bled, died, and rose again just for a chance to be corrected by Lord Bale directly.
Xer had been handed that privilege.
So he became the focal point for envy.
The Hounds would only say so much, though. No one here was foolish enough to openly disrespect Lord Ten's decision. Instead, they iced Xer out carefully. Even within his own unit, he remained poorly received. He went on solitary hunts more often than not, refusing to force his warriors under his command the way a proper unit leader should.
That part bothered me more than his temper.
A leader who isolated himself made his unit weaker.
But Xer was still young, no matter what his domain suggested.
"Hounds of the Sun!"
Every mouth on the field shut.
Even Xer straightened his back on his horse.
Eli stepped forward first.
Her Minor God aura descended across the cliff like a sudden tide. Heavy. Dark. Layered with water laws deep enough to make the nearest Demi-Gods stiffen where they stood. For one breath, the field felt submerged beneath a black river.
Then she stepped back, withdrawing the pressure before it could become punishment.
Silence remained.
Lord Bale stepped forward.
He still wore the animal-hide clothing he had refused to give up after all these years, patched and reinforced so many times that no one could tell what pieces were original anymore. A cloak of dark beast fur hung across his shoulders. Bone charms, old tooth trophies, and strips of divine hide were tied along his belt. His hair had silvered in places, though his body still carried the compact strength of a hunter who had never allowed age, godhood, or praise to soften his hands.
His silver eyes moved over the field with pride.
Then he glanced upward.
Lord Ten floated above the cliff on an inky black cloud, Hecate sitting beside him with one hand tangled lazily in his hair. She wore the same teasing look she always wore when she wanted someone to know she was enjoying their discomfort.
Her gaze locked with mine.
I narrowed my eyes.
She smiled wider.
Annoying woman.
The Hounds below did not need to look up twice. The moment they realized Lord Ten was present, their faces paled. Every slouch vanished. Every whisper died. Even those who had mocked Xer stood straighter than their bodies should have allowed.
Lord Bale bowed toward Lord Ten.
Not deeply enough to become worship.
Enough to acknowledge the one who gave the Hounds their first name.
Then he turned back to the field.
"My sons and daughters of the Hound."
His voice rolled across the cliff, carrying Death Laws in every word. Not enough to harm. Enough to make the air listen.
"It is a blessing to see each of you in good health and filled with warrior spirit."
The field remained silent.
Bale straightened his back, and his usual nervousness faded the moment he began speaking to those he had raised. This was where he was most himself. Not before courts. Not before gods. Before the Hounds who had taken his laws, bled under his training, and learned to stand because he refused to let them crawl.
"Today is a joyous day for the Hounds," he continued, "for I have brought news from the palace of Lord Pluto."
The name alone changed the field.
Lord Hades was known.
Lord Pluto was heavier.
Even Demi-Gods who did not understand the full difference felt it in their bones.
"For the first time in our million-year history, one of us has been summoned to the Court we shall guard in Death. The Court of the elders we aspire to join. The Court of the Reapers."
A ripple passed through the Hounds.
Awe.
Fear.
Hunger.
The kind that made warriors grip weapons tighter without realizing it.
Bale's grin stretched wider.
The last of his nervousness vanished.
"A summons has come for me to take on a quest in the name of Lord Tenebris, Lord CuelJuris, and Lord Hades."
He paused.
"The details are not known to me. But the rule I set at our creation remains."
His Death energy began to rise.
The grass below his feet withered first. Then the packed earth darkened, cracks spreading outward in thin black veins. Lord Ten lifted one hand from above and formed a barrier before the decay could reach the outer tribes. Orange fire appeared first, then deepened as divine flame layered through it, sealing the field within controlled pressure.
Bale's voice grew.
"To step back is to be defeated for a lifetime."
The field answered with silence so complete it felt like held breath.
"To run in defeat is to know Death of the Spirit."
His aura climbed higher.
"Do we step back as Hounds of the Sun?"
The ground shook.
"NO!"
The answer struck the cliff hard enough to send loose stones tumbling from the upper paths.
Bale's eyes shone silver.
"To run from duty is to be a failure in Life and Death. To shy away in the face of danger is to become the fool who eats his young to survive."
Clouds darkened around Lord Ten as Bale's laws infected the sky above the barrier. A rare display. Bale almost never showed the laws he cultivated in solitude. He preferred patience. Precision. Quiet.
Today, he let the Hounds feel what stood behind his teachings.
"Did I raise such bastards?"
"NO!"
Their divinity surged with the answer.
The barrier trembled.
Lord Ten's flame replaced the orange fire entirely now, white-black and dense enough to devour the excess pressure before it could spill outward. Hecate stopped teasing for once and looked down with genuine interest.
The Hounds roared as one.
"WE ARE HOUNDS OF THE SUN! WE DON'T RUN, AND WE DON'T COWER IN THE FACE OF DANGER!"
Their voices rolled across the cliffs, through the forest, and into the lower settlements. Beasts howled in answer from the pens. Fairies beat their wings in rhythm. Elves struck spear-butts against the ground. Human Hounds slammed fists to chest until the field sounded like a war drum made from living bodies.
Bale lifted one hand.
Silence returned by force of loyalty, not pressure.
"I thought so."
His smile softened.
"Then I raised some good children."
That line hit the field harder than the shouting.
Even Xer looked away for a breath beneath his hood.
"No matter what we go through next, know this," Bale said. "I am the spear who goes first."
He turned slightly, looking toward me and Eli.
"While I am away, Ayin will serve as Commander. Eli will serve as Field Commander."
I accepted the weight without moving.
Eli gave one sharp nod.
Then Bale's gaze shifted toward the northern formation.
"Come along, Xer. You have been summoned as well to meet Lord Hades as the Horseman."
The field went still in a different way.
Xer looked up toward Lord Ten.
For a moment, whatever bitterness he carried flashed through his posture.
Then he scoffed, turned his horse, and rode toward the forest path leading to Bale's abode.
Bale followed soon after, animal-hide cloak shifting behind him.
Above us, Lord Ten's cloud drifted slowly after them.
The Hounds remained standing in silence long after their founder left.
Not because they lacked orders.
Because all of us understood the same thing.
For the first time in our history, the Hounds were not being called to guard a tribe, hunt a beast, or die in training.
Their founder had been summoned toward Death itself.
And the pack would have to learn how to stand without its first spear.