Millions of battle-crazed warriors screamed as one as they sprinted across the field. Finally feeling like some semblance of himself, Zeke rolled his shoulders and stepped forward to meet them. The sound of so many feet slapping against the ground was deafening – like a stampede of warriors – and when they finally clashed, Zeke was rewarded with a surprise.

  The first blow came predictably from Ragnar, whose giant axe glowed with power before he cut into Zeke’s hastily raised arm. The blade hit with enough force to send him skidding backward. More distressingly, it had cut him down to the bone, sending a shower of blood arcing onto the green grass.

  Clearly, whatever restrictions had shackled the men and women of Valhalla had been lifted, and they came at him with the full weight of their accumulated stats and skills. Zeke didn’t mind, though. If that hadn’t been the case, it would be too easy.

  He embraced [Shifting Sands], stomping his foot on the ground. His momentum halted in an instant as divine energy billowed all around him. That simple stomp sent a ripple of reality-bending power arcing through the crowd of warriors. Half of them exploded from the shockwave of power, and even the strongest among them were sent flying backward.

  Ragnar maintained his footing, though he did skid back almost ten feet. Zeke took another step, shaking the entire world as time slowed to a crawl. He took another, and cracks spread across the ground. When he reached Ragnar, he slammed his hand into the man’s chest. The warrior did not explode, but his ribcage couldn’t protect him from the power Zeke could bring to bear.

  “I’m sorry,” Zeke muttered, his voice echoing across the battlefield like the herald of an earthquake. Then, he ripped Ragnar’s heart out. The momentum of it pulled the man’s spine free as well. By the time reality caught up to Zeke’s skill, the face of the battle had changed.

  Zeke healed himself with [Hand of Divinity], then sprinted toward the other fighters. Even before he’d regained his power, Zeke had established himself as one of the best warriors in Valhalla. He’d won countless battles – more than he could count – so even with the odds stacked against him, he felt confident in his abilities.

  It was even more dramatic when he could factor his incredible stats into the mix. Certainly, the others’ shackles had been removed as well, but Zeke had long been among the most powerful people in the Eternal Realm, and from what he could tell, he’d grown stronger during his time in Hell. How that was possible when he could no longer level, he had no idea. Nor had he noticed it so far because everything seemed to have been tailored to push him to his limits.

  But now, fighting the warriors of Valhalla, it was absolutely undeniable.

  Zeke tore through them without issue. Even lacking divine energy flowing through him, he still crushed men and women with every blow. They tried to swarm him, hacking away at him with various weapons. Some drew blood, but none of those blades went nearly as deep as Ragnar’s attack. He shrugged them off, not even bothering to use [Hand of Divinity] to heal. Instead, he took the wounds without letting them affect him.

  Hours wore on, and the sun never moved.

  But no matter how many people Zeke slaughtered – and he killed so, so many – there always seemed to be more to take their place. Killing millions of people – even if none of them took long – was a laborious endeavor, no matter how he sliced it. On top of that, they just kept coming over the horizon.

  Every now and again, Zeke saw one of the men or women who’d fallen to apathy and disappeared. Of all the opponents, those fought the hardest, making it easy to believe that they had endured something to which they did not want to return.

  Not surprising.

  As much as they all wanted to see Valhalla as a glorious reward for a life of violence, it was still Hell. And Hell was meant to punish.

  In any case, Zeke continued on, slaughtering men and women by the thousands. Then, the hundreds of thousands. After a while, he came to realize that he needed no real skill. He was so far above these small people that he could kill them with a flick of his wrist.

  It was less about difficulty and more about having the will to keep going.

  And if there was one thing Zeke possessed in abundance, it was the ability to endure. He had survived the Tempest. He had fought through the Circles of Gluttony, Greed, and Wrath. And he had endured being tortured to death for what felt like an eternity.

  He could handle whatever the Circle of Violence threw at him, for if he was anything, he was a creature who counted violence as his natural environment.

  So, he fought. He killed. He took plenty of wounds along the way, and on occasion, he healed himself via [Hand of Divinity]. But in the end, it was more monotonous than thrilling. That was how he knew he’d escaped the Circle’s grip. If he’d still been within its clutches, he would have reveled in it and lost himself to the bloodlust. But now? He just wanted to get through it.

  And eventually, after what felt like years of fighting, Zeke finally felled the last man by crushing his skill and tossing him aside.

  When no more attacks came his way, he looked around, and he was absolutely appalled by the carpet of bodies he’d left in his wake. They were stacked multiple corpses thick, and in places, they were piled high. All were dead. None had survived his onslaught.

  “You resist us,” came a croaking voice.

  Another came on its heels, “Impertinent.”

  “Presumptuous,” said another.

  “You must submit.”

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  Zeke turned slowly to face four old crones. Each one was hooded, holding tall staves of twisted wood in their gnarled hands. Beneath their cloaks were painfully thin bodies. Zeke saw a hint of their features, even shaded as they were, and he was unsurprised to see that they looked even aged than he’d suspected. Jagged noses jutted from their faces, and deep-set eyes stared at him with pure malevolence.

  “You think I’m impertinent and need to die? I’m right here. Make your move,” Zeke growled, already embracing the divine energy within. It cycled through his body, burning through his flesh and soul even as he repaired it with [Hand of Divinity].

  “Fool,” the said as one, raising their staves. A second later, Zeke felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. His divine energy went wild while his body seized. Pain arced through his body and mind as he doubled over. “You think –”

  Zeke started laughing.

  “What?!”

  He forced himself upright. “Do you think a little pain is going to stop me?” he asked.

  Then, he once again embraced [Shifting Sands]. Since it had been freed from the cage, the skill had changed dramatically. So much so that if he could access his status, he felt certain that it would have a different name, grade, and description. Zeke didn’t care so much about any of that. What he did care about was its effect.

  He stepped forward with absolute authority, and the ground shook. The crones tried to react. They clearly wanted to flee. Zeke caught sight of wide eyes and gaping mouths before he reached them. His hand darted out, closing around a thin neck.

  It snapped like a brittle twig.

  He tossed that crone aside, noting that she hadn’t burst into a cloud of blood as most others had. Nor had the crones been thrown aside by the shockwave. They had power – likely divine – but they clearly didn’t have enough.

  He grabbed the second. She raised her hand to stop him, but with a twitch, he broke her arm. Then, he broke her neck, just as he had with the first crone.

  Suddenly, the effect of [Shifting Sands] dissipated, and the world returned to normalcy – at least inasmuch as Valhalla could be normal. In the aftermath, the roiling clouds thundered ineffectually. Angrily. Impotently.

  Zeke ignored it.

  The crones screamed, scrambling away. Zeke let out a sigh, then chased them. They were old women, but they were also divine – at least to some extent – so catching them and killing them actually took quite some time. The crafty witches evaded him for hours until, at last, he slew the final crone.

  Silence stretched out across the rolling hills.

  He’d long since left the piles of bodies behind, so for a while, he could convince himself that the peace might last. But then, thunder once again rolled over him, and a man’s voice echoed in his mind.

  “You are a troublesome one,” a feminine voice intoned. Zeke glanced back to see a woman wearing a simple, white robe. On her feet were glittering sandals, and hair of gold cascaded past her shoulders. To say she was beautiful would have been an understatement of epic proportions. She was the most perfect creature Zeke had ever beheld, and he had no issues with immediately labeling her a god.

  Not that such a classification mattered to him.

  If she wished to kill him, she probably could, and there was nothing he could do about it. But he was banking on the fact that Hell had rules. Twisted and torturous, but rules nonetheless.

  “What do you want?” he croaked.

  “He speaks? Good. I had worried you might have lost your mind,” she said with a small smile that banished the clouds from the sky.

  “I asked a question,” Zeke said, unaffected by her power.

  “Right to the point, I see. No bother,” she said cheerily. It was quite a departure, given the savagery of his recent actions. The fact that he was naked and covered in blood probably affected that as well. “Do you feel any remorse for what you’ve done?”

  “Not really,” Zeke admitted. “They tried to kill me, so I killed them back.”

  “You don’t care that they were manipulated into it? Some would say they were forced.”

  Zeke shrugged. “Not really my problem. I want to survive. They were standing in my way. It’s not that complicated.”

  “But you put yourself into this situation, didn’t you? You prompted this whole situation. You are responsible, whether you want to hold yourself accountable or not. Millions are dead because of you.”

  “I would argue that it’s the fault of whoever created the situation in the first place,” Zeke pointed out. “I share some blame. I killed them when I could have simply given in and died. But don’t act as if I’m the only person responsible. I’m not, and we both know it.”

  She sighed. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for,” she said, reaching down to pluck a flower from the ground. Zeke couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t think it had been there only a few seconds before. Not that he paid much attention to flowers, of course. “You have caused quite a few problems. Did you know that?”

  Again, Zeke shrugged. “I guess it’s inevitable. I tend to upset the balance wherever I go,” he agreed.

  “Upset the balance. That is a mild way of putting it. You have not been playing by the rules, and all of Hell is on the precipice of collapse. Do you know what you were meant to do to pass through this circle?”

  “Kill everything?”

  “No!” she responded, exasperated. “It is the Circle of Violence. To pass it, you were supposed to have taken a pacifistic view. You had to give up. To let them all kill you.”

  “I did. Multiple times.”

  “You have to do it the same number of times you fought,” she said. Glancing back toward where Zeke had left the mountains of bodies, she added, “You had a long way to go yet.”

  Zeke rolled his shoulders. “What is your point?” he asked.

  “That you should not be here.”

  “So? I’m here. I’m going to get through it.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “You don’t even ask for me to pass you through,” she said. “I could do it, you know. Just snap my fingers and send you to the Ethereal Realm. Do you want me to do that?”

  Zeke frowned. He had two more circles left to overcome. Fraud and Treachery, according to Eveline. Then, presumably, there was some final challenge. At least there would be if he was the one designing the system. Clearly, he was unqualified to do so, because he never would have created anything as diabolical as the Circles of Hell.

  Regardless, the question still remained. Did he want to move on? Of course he did. More than just about anything, he wanted to wake up in the Ethereal Realm, reenter the tower, and see everyone he’d left behind. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he knew it was a significant span.

  He needed it.

  But he couldn’t cut corners. During his time in Hell, Zeke had grown stronger. He felt that down to his core. Divine energy coursed through him with every breath, and he knew that if he wanted to accomplish his goals, he would need that power.

  Hell wasn’t a punishment.

  It was training.

  And he wasn’t finished yet.

  So, Zeke shook his head, saying, “I can’t leave this unfinished.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I had a feeling you would say that,” she admitted. “You are correct, though. Once you’re here, I can’t do anything to you. One of the many rules enforced upon me. I can only hope that Hell is still standing when you’re done.” She waved a hand, and a door suddenly appeared to Zeke’s right. He glanced at it, seeing that it was a perfectly normal door.

  “Why is Hell here?” he asked. “It’s cruel. Wouldn’t the world be better without it?”

  “When you’re prepared to know the answer to that, you won’t need to ask the question,” she said. “Now go. I can’t reset this until you’re gone.”

  Zeke had other questions, but he knew she wouldn’t answer them. Still, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  “I don’t have one. Not anymore,” she replied sadly. “Go.”

  Zeke felt a tug on his mind, and without further delay, he stepped close to the door, opened it, and went through. And just like that, he’d left Valhalla behind.