The sky boiled red like an inflamed wound. That was the hardest thing to get used to, for Võ. There was very little light, despite it being roughly "daytime", the sole points of fire that shone through the smog a pale imitation of Earth's sun. Võ's feet ached with each drag over gristle-specked sand. Breathing in stung with a thousand tiny pieces of grit.
"Move," rumbled the voice like scraping metal from the behemoth walking ten feet ahead. A burning, cyclopic eye glowered over its shoulder; Võ struggled not to flinch. "Or be left behind."
It had been three days since the angel plucked Võ from their mortal plane to begin their training. However, no training had occurred, only travel — a brutal trudge through the hellish osseous that made up most of Purgatory's wasteland, at least according to the angel, who showed little patience for Võ's need to eat and sleep.
"Mortal bodies," it had hissed. "So deeply weak."
The words sent a rush of hot shame through Võ's nerves. Because it was true; their mortal body was weak. It was the reason they sought out the angel to begin with, the reason they'd begged, scraping their forehead bloody against stone, for their guidance.
Please, have mercy on us...
Over the horizon a small campsite rolled into sight. Võ could see a fire pit, a blanket, a ragged set of bedrolls. Something foul-smelling boiled in a pot above the meager flame. In the air lingered the stench of burnt fat.
Silhouetted against the glow sits — Võ squinted, blinked through the sand — a figure. Another human. About the same age as themselves, give or take a few years, but that was about all they had in common. Sun-scorched skin stretched thin over brittle bones, a shock of white shorn hair.
They blinked at Võ with bloodshot eyes, tiny white lights reflecting off their pupils. A wide, thin smile split their round, freckled face. Their lips glistened with a strange sheen that Võ could not identify. Võ didn't know what to make of it.
The angel reached to its side and unhooked a carcass of some animal it had hunted on the journey. It had puzzled Võ, who knew angels had no need for food nor drink, but they'd thought better of asking questions.
It tossed the carcass to the other child's feet, and the child wasted no time pouncing upon it. They tore into raw flesh with yellow canines, crunching ravenously through bones, breaking what they couldn't with teeth with their hands. Their eyes shone with burning, frenzied hunger.
The angel lowered itself onto the blanket with an annoyed sigh. The flame before its forehead flared with light— the campfire immediately jumped to a roaring height. Võ quickly began to sweat in the sweltering heat.
"We rest for tonight," rumbled the angel. "Tomorrow, at red dawn." It pulled out a saber more than double Võ's height and began to clean the blade. "We train."
It glared at Võ and ordered, "sleep."
The bedrolls were almost unbearably sandy, but Võ curled up on top of one anyway. The deafening crackle of the fire drowned out all sound. Though Võ did not feel tired, exhaustion set in quickly.
Before sleep took them, Võ caught a glimpse of the other child across the fire. They were licking the grease off their fingers, mouth smeared with blood and animal fat. Their smile, canines gleaming in the dark, as content and warm as a sleeping babe's.
—
Beware the stalking tiger, Võ's mother once said. It tells sweet lies to fatten your heart. And then it will devour you whole.
—
"Again."
Võ groaned, slowly pushing off the ground and feeling their whole body pulse with pain. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe; every muscle ached with tender bruises.
The nameless child smirked as she watched Võ struggle. Võ scowled back in turn. They had expected a little bit of camaraderie between themselves and the only other human they'd seen since arriving on this hellish plane, but no. The other child was impish, brutish, arrogant. Leaping upon Võ at the angel's first word, pulling no punches when engaging in so-called mock fights. Always with that sick smile.
Võ finally got to their feet, assuming the grappling stance they'd been drilling for the morning. The other child mirrored them. The smirk had not left their face.
It was their third time sparring, the nameless child's third victory. Võ had lots of complaints — that the other had had more training with the angel by far, that it was unfair that they had to grapple with one arm while the other faced no such handicap, that they were aching and exhausted from the days of endless travel.
But there was no point in giving them voice; the angel would only take it as a challenge to add more obstacles to the pile. A hundred more drills, two hundred more laps. More weight heaped upon Võ's back.
The nameless child kicked off the ground. Võ did the same, half a heartbeat later. They clashed before the crackling fire, grappling with sweaty fists. Võ had long since learned that the other's wiry frame was deceiving— there was in fact a terrible strength in the other child's bones, something almost inhuman.
Võ got the other child into a chokehold with great difficulty. They pawed their filthy fingers at Võ's eyes, because they had no sense of honor or restraint. A bony elbow dug into Võ's ribs and they were forced to capitulate.
The other child lunged and knocked her skull into Võ's forehead, sending stars shooting down Võ's optic nerves. Before Võ could recover, they were pinned to the ground, all the air leaving their lungs in a pathetic wheeze, limbs scrabbling but finding no purchase on the red sand.
"Stop."
Võ spat dirt as the other child released them, only after a couple more seconds of watching Võ struggle like a pinned butterfly. They slumped back on the sand as the nameless child trotted happily over to receive their reward, smug off the back of yet another victory.
The angel looked on without a word. The only implicit approval came in its outstretched fingers. When the other child pressed their open hand to the center, the angel pressed a molten thumb to their palm, burning a white hot stigmata into the flesh. The white flame remained for a few seconds, then dissipated, leaving a faint, charred mark.
There were no words of approval or congratulation. The angel turned away. The other child retracted their palm and grinned like it was the best gift they could ever receive.
Võ's stomach tightened. Not just with pain, with envy. They wanted to know the feeling of that flame. They wanted to know if it burned, if it hurt.
"Training is over," said the angel over its shoulder. It was staring at the red sun. "Eat."
Food was more a means to refuel their broken bodies than any sort of real respite. Today, it was a pot of sticky rice gruel cut with water and lumpy root vegetables. Võ gingerly poured themselves a bowl and went to sit, sullen, in defeat.
They were granted only a few moments of respite before interrupted by a wiry arm snaking over their shoulder, hand grasping, hot rancid breath blowing in their ear.
"I won again."
"I noticed," Võ grumbled.
"Gonna finish that?"
Võ slapped her hand away. "Yes."
They pursed their lips. "Boo."
She was always hungry, no matter how much of the terrible food she gorged. Always reaching for Võ's leftovers before they had even finished eating. Võ hadn't even seen the other child finish her own.
"It's my fourth time winning." Võ wondered if the other child ever thought about what came out of her mouth before she said it. Probably not. "Angel's not gonna be happy with you."
Võ did not dignify that with a response, shoveling down a mouthful of porridge as they fumed instead.
The other child hummed thoughtfully. "I hope you don't get kicked out. I like training with you. You're fun."
"I didn't want to lose," Võ spat.
The other child merely giggled. Võ's skin simmered with annoyance.
"Where would you even go if you left...?" The other mused aloud. "You're from Earth, right?"
"Yeah." Võ wanted to explain the village they hailed from, the mountains, the long-fanned shadows cast by overhead leaves, the river water so crisp it shone silver in the sun. But they didn't.
"Is that where you lost your arm?"
"No."
"What happened to it then?"
"Nothing happened." Võ brought the watery porridge to their lips. "I was born without it."
The other child considered the possibility silently, like it was the first time they'd ever fathomed such a thing. They tapped their lip with a fingernail.
"How did you survive then? When you were a baby?"
The audacity of the question had Võ reeling before they could think to really deflect it. "I survived cause my family helped me." They paused. "The same way anyone survives."
The other child fixed them in a strange, unblinking stare.
Then, all of a sudden, one of those dizzying bursts of movement. Võ's bowl was knocked to the floor. The other child planted a foot on their chest, one hand in vice grip around Võ's wrist.
"What if I tore this off, huh?" asked the other child. There was a hungry gleam in their eyes that set Võ's hair on end. "Who would help you then?"
Võ struggled to break free. Still exhausted, however, they were helplessly pinned. There was a pressure in their joint as the other child tugged experimentally, as if testing how much force it'd take to yank from the socket.
Then, as suddenly as they'd started, the nameless child released them and stepped away. Võ wheezed for breath, still on their back.
The nameless child smiled down at them widely.
"I do like you, Võ," they said, which sent a sliver of ice down Võ's spine worse than their earlier threat.
With that, they walked off with their slow, lumbering steps. Võ lay on the sand and stared at the sky.
—
The child would starve to death within the day. It lay in the fetal position, spindly limbs curled to its sore-covered torso, strawlike white hair plastered to the side of its face. Its skeletal face contorted with each rattling breath, gaping mouth like a beached fish slowly sucking breath in and out. It very likely lacked the energy to even move.
The angel watched. It did not move to save the child. God was in its heaven, and it put the child there. In a hundred million years, the spot where the child once sat would be a black mark, and the angel would remain.
A hundred million years ago, that same patch of topsoil might have been part of Eden, trod upon by men and animals in ecstatic perfection. But time had passed. It had never come to be. It was nothing more than a gravesite now. The angel remained regardless, purpose long eroded.
The child opened its eyes. They rolled in their sockets in the angel's direction. Rattling inhale. Sour breath. They held each other's gazes in silence, dust howling faraway. The child is dead, dead yet moving, which is the macabre paradox of all mortal beings.
The child broke eye contact abruptly, snapping over instead to a diseased, scrawny rat. It was attracted to the child's sores. Whiskers twitching, it wriggled closer to the scent of blood.
The child waited. Kept still until the rat was within arm's reach, sniffing at the dried blood and pus. One spindly arm lifted and cradled the vermin to its chest. Then, with a speed and force the angel did not forsee, it grabbed the rat between its teeth and bit deeply into its neck. The vermin's pained squeal was cut short by the sharp crack of vertabrae. Its little limbs spasmed as yellow teeth, dull but persistent, gnawed at its belly until the guts spilled open.
It was alive — surely dead yet moving, the paradox of all mortal things — but slowly, surely, it was being consumed. There was a strange light in the child's eyes. A gleeful fervor. The primal delight of one organism overtaking another.
It was then that the angel decided that this child was fit to be trained. This one was fit for it. It would suit the cause well. God was in its heaven.
—
The sun was high when Võ lifted the boulder to its final position, wiping the sweat from their brow.
Time moved slower in Purgatory. The line between day and night was much more blurred and liquid. Võ had long since learned that what looked like tiny suns and moons were in fact the burning eyes of a titanic demon and angel, engrossed in battle hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.
Võ observed the mountainscape. The ground was dull scarlet and resembled the flesh of a soft palette. Small, bristly nerves poked up from the surface, snaking blue and red veins faintly visible under the skin. The macabre sight was familiar now, almost comforting. This was a good place to go to be alone. A good place to get stronger.
A low bell rang through the clearing, nearby nerves reverberating with the frequency. Võ sighed. They braced against flesh briefly and leapt forward, sailing off the ledge. Hot wind whipped through their hair and singed their face.
They landed on a spongy mass of lung tissue, easily balancing atop on one foot. The campsite was around half a kilometer eastward. Võ could make it there in less than a minute. They chose to hang back. The scenery was ever-shifting and unending. The angel could wait. Everything could wait.
The training grounds hadn't improved much from their original standing, in many ways they had in fact deteriorated. Years of unrestrained battle left the earth torn and the sparse equipment ragged and half-broken. Still, it was home. The closest thing to home Võ would get in this world, and one day they'd be able to leave it behind forever. They wouldn't miss it.
The angel, untouched by time as it so liked to remind Võ, glowered as they finally arrived in the clearing. "You are late."
"Wasting what daylight?" Võ retorted. "We're going to do the same thing we do every time. A few minutes won't kill you."
"Will they not kill you? Will they not kill your family, faraway, for whom you train to fight?"
After a tense silence, Võ stepped to the grounds with a defiant huff.
The child, now called Saint, proudly christened upon discovery of a dilapidated statue of her namesake, already stood at the edge of the field. She was taller than Võ now, and broader. All those stolen nutrients must have accumulated eventually. Their already monstrous appetite only grew as time passed — they ate an obscene amount every day, anything they could get their hands on; a permanent sheen of glistening fat and leftover gristle adorned her lips.
Before their forehead floated a tiny white wisp of flame, a mirror of the angel's. The holes in their palms bore all the way through to the backs of their hands.
They smiled at Võ with their horrible, jagged teeth. They were expecting to win again. Võ narrowed their eyes.
"Stand forth."
Both assumed their fighting stances automatically, shaped by months of the same ringing bell. Saint's eyes oozed with smug confidence. Dull glassy pink like the inside of a cochlea.
"Begin."
The first impact always hit like a thunderclap, rippling through Võ's body like water. Teeth gritted, they braced against it, managing to not get blown off their feet. They blocked Saint's next strike and grabbed their arm, using the momentum to slam them into the ground.
Saint, unfazed, kicked up and dug their heel into Võ's gut with enough force to lift them off the ground. Acid bubbled in Võ's throat which they quickly swallowed. Saint only ever aimed for more and more vulnerable spots to direct their hits towards. The eyes, the neck, the gullet. Võ couldn't focus all their energy on blocking the relentless push for long. Sooner or later they'd have to strike back.
They exchanged blows for some time, Võ remaining on the defensive. But eventually a fault in Saint's strategy came to pass. Their endless attacking, little by little, whittled down their stamina. Sweat beaded down their temple as their strikes slowly began to space out. They could no longer crush Võ in a single blow; as such, they had to contend with Võ's moves of retaliation.
Võ wasn't so easily overtaken anymore. They had practiced redirection, balancing their uneven defense and turning it to unpredictability. Saint didn't expect they could still hit with the stump. They choked on the impact, teeth clicking together, and Võ pounced on the opportunity.
They couldn't leave it at pushing her down. They had to well and truly incapacitate her. They saw an opportunity in her unbalanced gait, her unsteady stance. There was no time to think. They lunged.
Saint's strength lay in raw power. But they were still human, and human bodies were weak. Võ leapt onto her back and knocked her to the ground, locking her arms behind her. It took their entire weight to keep her down, as she writhed and snarled like a wild animal. She bucked once, twice, but Võ held strong.
A piercing pain shot up Võ's arm as Saint sank the jagged points of their teeth into the flesh above their elbow. They tried to jerk away, but her jaws were like a bear trap. The more they moved, the deeper the serrated edge gouged into the muscle.
Panic began to well in Võ's throat. If Saint got back up, there would be no victory. Victory might never be within reach again.
In almost complete instinct, Võ slammed their forearm down onto Saint's skull, wrenching their arm free as the impact stunned Saint into going slack. They quickly rose and struck Saint again, and again, with their fist, with heels of their feet, bludgeoning until they stopped trying to fight back in favor of curling up defensively.
"Stop."
Võ's heart hammered like thunder, blood rushing in their ears. Even at their mentor's word they hesitated, frozen in fear of Saint attacking the moment they let their guard down — only when they felt the heat of the angel moving close did they relent. Saint lay sprawled on the floor. Her chest heaved with breath; twin streams of blood streaked from her nostrils and reddened her bared teeth.
When she met Võ's eyes, the glare she flashed— wide-eyed, tiny white irises shining with fury— was like a long, thin needle being bored into Võ's bone marrow.
"Come here," rumbled the angel. Saint remained where she lay. Võ quickly obeyed.
The hand was surprisingly cold when Võ touched it— they had come to associate the angel and its metal body with constant, searing heat. Instead it was frigid, numbing to the touch. Five fingers of interlocking plates, much like a knight's gauntlets, the ends as sharp as knives. Joints scraping as its thumb hovered slowly over the center of Võ's palm.
There was a sharp, burning smell. All of a sudden, Võ couldn't bear to watch. They squeezed their eyes and held their breath.
A split second of pain—
—then there was nothing.
Võ looked down to see a charred mark on their palm, the same place as Saint's was.
"Good."
The angel withdrew its hand.
"We are done for today."
Võ watched the behemoth leave. They couldn't stop worrying their fingers over the mark, like the hole left by a loose tooth. It should have hurt more. Or maybe it shouldn't have hurt at all. Võ didn't know what to think. They didn't feel any stronger for having done it. They felt nothing for the angel's approval. Their insides felt cold and hollow.
Their hand was covered with blood. Võ felt sick.
—
"Please, have mercy on us..."
"God doth not dole out mercy," hissed the angel.
It was a pitiful sight; a one-armed child in an ill-fitting dress, smeared with mud and twigs and the refuse of the mountains, prostrating itself at the angel's feet as if it could make itself any more pathetic than it already was. This was supposed to be one of God's sacred children? Perhaps a runt of its litter.
"P-please. My village," muttered the runt. "There's a— a monster. A demon. It's eating everyone, demanding tribute."
Humans were so disgustingly weak. "Fight it yourself."
"We can't!"
In a million years, every mortal being that populated this village would be ash and dust. "A machine of God has no time for such trifles."
"Please!" It was crying now, tiny frame shaking with insipid, infantile hiccups. The angel was unmoved. Long had the passage of time beyond time grated on its patience for folly. The will of God itself was a farce, if this is what its holy war was all for — protecting a pale imitation of Eden's grove, and its fragile spawn.
The child sniffled and stood shakily to its feet. The angel noticed then the crooked black blade it held at its side. It lifted the blade aloft and pointed it at the angel, visibly struggling to balance with the weight of it.
For the first time in many years, the angel felt something like amusement. "What are you doing?"
The child swallowed hard. "K-killing you!"
"You defy a servant of God?"
"If— if you refuse to help us... if you just watch us die... you're no better than the tiger!" cried the whelp defiantly. They stepped forward despite their blatant terror and brandished their sword. "J—just die, then!"
The angel easily caught the blade as it sang towards it, mostly from gravity more than the force of the swing. It regarded the child for a while.
"We wander, we wonder, we observe the world; humanity blossoms, but no seed may take purchase here, scorched is the soil. God's love for thine plane is... misplaced."
It pushed the blade aside, where it fell to the dirt.
"God is dead. Or perhaps, merely impotent. The difference is the same. Long has its voice faded from the ears of its loyal servants. Now its mighty army is puppeted only by the ghosts of its commands, ever since the death of the great War.
"The broken and bitter of us know the truth. It is time for a new God, one that might lead the world anew. But it first must be tempered with blood. That blood will be spilt by the finest of souls. You were born too weak. But you can be made better, with our help."
It extended a clawed hand. "Come with me to the bowels of Hell. Learn what it is to be strong."
The child's eyes swam with wariness and fear. But through that something else coalesced. The first flickering embers of fire. Grim determination.
They extended their hand. "Show me."
—
Time moved slower in Purgatory.
Võ observed the landscape below with a squinted eye, bracing the massive arm they carried against their shoulder. The thing was inconvenient to lug around, but it was occasionally good for shade when one of the suns were high. Like a parasol. Võ chuckled darkly to themselves.
They leapt from point to point, enjoying the blasts of wind against their face as they did. The fleshy environs of Purgatory had its perks. It was easy to navigate if you knew what you were doing, and quick. The rolling plains meant that landmarks jumped out more easily, such as the dilapidated campsite on the horizon.
Võ approached at a leisurely pace. There was an obvious degree of scuffle and destruction. Torn scraps of fabric lay across the floor, broken pieces of scaffolding. A plume of smoke slowly wafted to the sky. A fire must be going.
The first thing they noticed upon getting close was the smell; the singed, sour stench of burning flesh. The source became evident when they passed the fire pit. Above the flame roasted the charred remains of a torso impaled on a skewer. Black blood dried in spots on the sand.
"Nearer, my God, to Thee... Oh, nearer to Thee... E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me..."
The crooning voice emerged from the tent, cracking on the longer notes. Võ stood by, not announcing their own presence.
Eventually the figure inside emerged. A clawed, metal hand snaked out from underneath the flap, followed by an arm covered in intricate, interlocking spikes.
"Is that who I think it is?" Pale, cold eyes shone from the dark.
It took several seconds for Saint to stand to her full height. If she stood next to any normal human she'd surely dwarf them. She moved slowly, deliberately, as if she knew she had all the time in the world. It was hard to fault her logic— her body was entirely encased in pale, searing armor, bona fide angel metal. Nothing short of an angel's spear would ever pierce her skin again.
Her face, silvery with crisscrossing scars, split into a lazy grin. "I thought something out there would have killed you by now."
"You and me both," Võ replied.
"I was in the middle of eating." Saint licked their lips.
Inside the tent Võ could make out the outline of a bubbling pot, and inside that pot three spherical lumps bobbing in water, each roughly the size of a human cranium. There were more bodies in there. The stench was stronger. Võ knew Saint's preference for meat— the rawer the better, chewed off the braying animal if they could help it— thus the torso outside came off more like a taunt than anything else. Threat display.
"Want a piece?"
"No."
"Skinny little Võ. You never did eat enough. Maybe that's why you're so... small? Haha." They suddenly quirked their brows. "So? What then? What is it?"
"What?"
"What now?" She gestured. "Come on. Strutting around this place with that thing on your back. You think that isn't a challenge?"
Võ looked at them blankly. "It's nothing."
Saint scoffed. "An angel's arm— 'nothing'. Don't kid. Creatures like us have no room to be humble." She leans forward, wide-eyed, menacing. "You took it away from me, you know. The chance to pick apart its bones. You couldn't even leave the body for me? Every student's great ambition is to taste the blood of its master. You know!! You know."
She paused. "Actually. What happened on Earth, huh?"
That got Võ to grit their teeth. "I'm not talking about that."
Saint laughed, always one to stick their fingers into open wounds. "I guess that means you didn't kill that demon."
"Shut up."
"You know how many demons I've killed?" The bodies stacked inside the tent, the one outside, the family three hundred yards west strung up on brachial trees, the ruined nest. All deliberately placed out, lined up in a trail for Võ to follow. "It's easy. But you couldn't do it? How sad. They must be all dead. Then what was it all for, Võ? All the training, all the fighting?"
Võ struck Saint in the jaw hard enough to crack teeth. Her head snapped back. She grinned wide.
Võ let out a tense breath. "I didn't have the chance to kill it. I would have. But the angel lied." They squeezed their eye shut briefly. "It lied about everything."
"Not everything." Saint's eyes glimmered with putrid promise. "The new God is real, Võ."
"I don't want God," Võ snapped. "I don't want a new God, I don't want this place. I don't want this world— but Earth is done now, it's done. Nothing here matters." They smear their hand across their face, feeling a throbbing pressure behind their eye. "I don't want any of it."
Saint was uncharacteristically silent. Even when Võ lifted their gaze, their grotesque smile didn't reappear.
"Sounds like..." They tilted their head very slightly, eyes wide and glassy like marbles. "There's nothing for you here, then."
Võ was silent in turn.
"Why did you come here, Võ Tien Phuong?"
"There's a future yet to be made from this place," replied Võ. "Surviving humans. People who know the Earth I knew. If I find them, teach them what I know, we can live. For ourselves. For the first time in our existence.
"That's what I'm here for." Their fist tightened. "A future we can fucking control."
"I don't care about that," snapped Saint. Their face twisted into something sour and furious. "I asked, why are you here? Why come if you're not going to fight?"
There was a desperate, unasked question buried deep within the words, an unsated hunger. Võ did not rise to meet it. They turned away instead.
"If I just wanted to see you, would that be enough?"
They did not turn around to see Saint's reaction, nor draw their sword. Facing the false sun, Võ began to walk.
Before them stretched an endless landscape of cursed earth from which no seed would take root. The sky boiled without purpose.