Hello everyone! I'm so very very sorry for not updating my story sooner. I flew all the way to China for a couple of weeks, and Google isn't available there (VPN didn't seem to work either). I've been through a really difficult time lately and I might as well divulge what's going on with me to you.

My father happens to have cancer, and so my life has been really stressful as I have to take care of him and the family. It's really killed me and I'm so frickin' exhausted, so… Yea, please understand why I updated this so late.

Anyway, I have a request to make. I encourage all kinds of reviews, even negative ones. But if you are going to post a negative review, please remember to add suggestions and say SPECIFICALLY what exactly you are unhappy with. Otherwise that review is pointless to you and me since I won't be able to improve.

Thank you to the following people who reviewed my story in my absence… So many new names! Here goes: THExPOTxHEAD, Clytuis, A happy reader, DeathDrayanD, BryceSyce, NoahTheOverlander, Thatoneguy25, Dragons boy, BlackWolfUnder, pyro159, phantom1299, Reader, TH3 EL3TR1C, HumanicHedgeHog, koipbuiop(welcome!), Footballstar24(welcome!), brandoncreel16(welcome!), ImBlu(welcome!) and Randonfire.

This chapter is written from Gregor's perspective.


Chapter 19: Surrendering to Regalia

The gasps of incredulity were quickly peppered by fierce arguments erupting within atomised sections in the crowd. Within minutes, the aggression became contagious and everybody was embroiled in fierce discussions over Gregor's fate. The Council members looked disconcerted and slightly shaken themselves, almost as if they're own words haunted them. The dilemma facing the city was turning it against each other.

Gregor just stared ahead blankly, trying to process the revelation on a Biblical scale. But no matter how much he tried to keep calm and think rationally, he still couldn't organize the messy whirlwind that spun about in his head. He was fundamentally being asked to walk like the messianic lamb to a slaughter. There were just too many implications to consider, too many possible scenarios he could end up in, too many…

Gregor inhaled and exhaled the way Lizzie did when she was nervous, trying to maintain a sense of balance as his mind precariously dangled over the dark hole of insanity. Everything around him seemed so distant, so insignificant, so irrelevant- everything seemed to be a complete blur to him.

Familiar faces greeted his narrowed vision, but he only had eyes for one person in the Council hall, and she was staring right back at him. Luxa's cold and indifferent demeanour when speaking to him earlier appeared to remain, but while her body language told him one story, her eyes told him another.

She was just as frightened as he was.

That hardly provided any kind of soothing comfort in the pandemonium swirling around him, but it did give him a glimmer of hope. At least he knew that she still cared for him in some capacity, whether it was just slight affection or more.

"SILENCE!" Daedalus boomed once more. "Warrior, do you have any comments to add?"

Gregor silently pondered over the predicament he was in and realised how massive the eventual decision would be. Mathematically, it made sense for Regalia to toss him out to the wolves, or in this case the gnawers, in exchange for over a hundred innocent lives.

For a couple of seconds, Gregor felt angry at how the Council was attempting to approach this dilemma. To them, people were consumable objects with stipulated values on them. To them, it was an economic trade to see whether there was profit gain or loss. They were essentially dehumanising Gregor and the hostages, something which Gregor absolutely hated. Back in the Overland, people were milked for profit and were discarded once they lost their value. And while this wasn't exactly the same scenario in Regalia, the approach to treating the people was identical.

But Gregor realised the burden didn't just rest on his shoulders, but on the Council's shoulders too. Even Luxa seemed to scream quietly of how despondent she was feeling, which was incredibly rare considering how she often walled up her emotions in the public eye. This decision would change the future of Regalia, for better or worse.

"Warrior?" Daedalus prompted, startling Gregor out of his anxiety.

He stood up, shaking a little nervously, and said, "Perhaps we should let the people decide."

Daedalus nodded in approval, before turning to the people. "How many among you would exchange the Warrior for the hostages?"

The crowd seemed to shudder collectively- the thought of having to choose between sacrificing an iconic legend or their own brethren was clearly revolting to them. Confused and pained glances were exchanged. Impassioned pleas and foul profanities somehow complemented each other in this thriving turmoil. The rats quickly huddled together closely, trying to avoid meeting the hateful stares aimed straight at them.

"All who wish for the Warrior to be sacrificed," Daedalus said impatiently, clearly irked by the unusual indecisiveness of the fickle crowd, "please say 'aye'."

A slightly muted but decisive 'aye' echoed around the hall, causing Gregor's already grieving heart to ache even more. Every noise made in favour of his sacrifice was a dagger thudding right into the core of his heart. Even though he understood this was their decision to make, even though he understood this city belonged to the people who built it, he still felt betrayed. For all the times he wept and spilled his own blood, for every last ounce of strength he had devoted to this city even when he had close to nothing left to give…

It still wasn't enough for these people. Every 'aye' that resounded through this hall denied the real sacrifices he had made for Regalia. He had relinquished his own freedom in exchange for being rejected by the people he had come to call his own.

But he understood. He understood that to them, he was still an alien, or an immigrant, or a fallen angel who didn't belong with them. He was a commodity to be spent in order to buy this city a little more time to exist, and now that his value was gone he was to be tossed aside. To them, he was merely a fruit peel now that the flesh of the fruit was consumed.

And yet he didn't feel angry. He was more heartbroken than furious, because the soul-crushing despair of having been abandoned by the city he loved pretty much wiped out all hope he had left. He stared up at the Council, waiting for their verdict.

Daedalus didn't seem entirely convinced by the response. "Now all those in favour of keeping the Warrior in Regalia," he boomed, "say 'aye'."

To Gregor's pleasant surprise, a similarly decisive 'aye' answered Daedalus' question. There was a period of stunned silence from the dissenters, before intense discussions burst out in the hall.

The whole hall was now buzzing with confusion and frustration. In Gregor's last couple of years living as an Underlander, no decision had ever been met with such polarising opinions from the people. This was set to be easily the most divisive verdict in recent history.

And of course, it had to revolve around the Underland's most popular hero.

Stellovet's ostensible remarks about Gregor's relationship with her and his own personal duel with Ripred might have undermined some trust, but the thunderous noise in the arena suggested that deep down, the people were still fiercely loyal to him. They saw him as a deity, the greatest individual since Sandwich, a God who had come to be their Saviour and Redeemer.

Gregor found that mildly amusing, because back in the Overland he was just another living and breathing human, who followed through the well-traversed course of life. In the Overland, no one would remember him twenty or thirty years after he was placed six feet under.

Gregor turned his attention back to the Council, who looked deeply disturbed and bewildered by the turn of events. Finally, after a moment of deliberation, Heronian looked up and said, "It appears that the proposed system of… democracy, has failed us. Perhaps we, as the Council, should make this decision on behalf of the people. And as usual, the Queen will have the final say."

"I would advise against that."

Everybody in the hall froze, including Gregor. He slowly turned towards the doorway into the Council hall, dreading the moment he would have to look the old rat in the eyes.

Ripred limped forward, nodding politely at a couple of friends and generals in the crowd, before bowing towards the Council. The whole time he walked at an angle, so part of his face was obscured from Gregor's sight. A couple of people gasped but quickly shut up when Ripred glanced at them. The fraught silence stiffened the already palpable tension that entwined itself around every member in the hall.

"Ripred, I-" Gregor began.

Ripred turned to face Gregor, and the sight of his face made Gregor take an involuntary step back.

The old rat's face was covered in scars from his battle with Gregor. His snout looked slightly crooked, and his lip had a deep gash. He was clearly nursing a number of broken bones, and the rest of his body clearly fared no better. Numerous cuts and bruises were visible even from a mile away. But there was one detail that sent a shiver down his spine and chilled his blood.

Ripred stared at Gregor with only one eye. The other eye just stared in his general direction, lifeless and without the familiar edge Gregor usually saw in it.

Gregor expected to see hatred and bitterness in Ripred's one living eye, but he was surprised to see that it screamed of curiosity more than any other emotion. The regret that now gripped him was now unbearably awful.

"Ripred," Gregor croaked out loud so that most people in the hall could hear him, "I'm sorry."

"All is forgiven," Ripred said bluntly. His laconic response suggested his own discomfort with discussing the topic, especially in the public eye.

The old rat turned to face the Council again. "You cannot make this decision for him. No man's life deserves to lie in the hands of a few who consider themselves superior."

"Every man's life has been placed in the hands of the Council since the inception of Regalia," one Council member replied dismissively. "Why should we make an exception for the Warrior? Besides, Lord Ripred, you should be the last one to school us on such matters, considering your decorated history."

"Empires and great kingdoms have fallen because they followed the rules of the past," Ripred argued. "I've made my mistakes and learned them. The question, dear Council, is have you?"

"Careful, Lord Ripred," Daedalus cautioned him. "You may want to watch what you are suggesting."

"I suggest nothing," Ripred replied, appearing to be abnormally quiet and reserved, "except that the Warrior isn't an item for you to exchange at your own will."

"You have no right to tell us what to do with the Warrior!" Heronian hissed. "You have manipulated him since he was a child, Lord Ripred. Your hypocrisy is astounding even when considering your usual standards of irreverence to this Council."

Gregor saw a flicker of burning anger light up for a split second on Ripred's eyes, but his shoulders sagged and he backed off respectfully. "So be it," he mumbled softly.

"Lord Ripred's right!" a flier yelled at the Council. "You have no right to dictate what happens to the Warrior!"

Similar sentiments followed suit and were echoed across the hallowed hall in yet another blur of frenzied voices. One man even stood up, grabbed another man by his throat and began to throttle him out of anger. The neutral tone in everybody's voices suddenly ascended into aggressiveness, as small scuffles began to break out across the hall.

The Council began hollering at the Regalians, but unbridled chaos was already flowing freely throughout the hall, and words from the Council couldn't halt its continual rise. Luxa tried desperately to gain their attention, but to her despair, her voice was drowned out by the deafening roars of angry men, women and children. Ripred merely stared at the scene solemnly, his grim expression failing to hide the disappointment scribbled across his scarred face.

The rats quickly huddled together, trying to avoid meeting the cold, resentful stares that bore right through them. Gregor's heart broke even more as he saw a couple of baby rats glancing around them in fear. They didn't deserve to be treated like this- they'd done nothing. And yet the black sheep in the herd had turned everyone else into a wolf, waiting to sink their fangs into the innocent.

One human drew his sword and swung it at a rat, forcing the rat to dash towards the huddle and squeeze himself amongst his brethren. "NEVER TRUST A GNAWER!" the man bellowed, as a group of humans unsheathed their weapons and surrounded the rats…

"ENOUGH!" Gregor roared, his voice thundering above everybody else's. The hall seemed to rumble, as if the very walls themselves were aware they were in the presence of the god of Regalia. Everybody turned to look at him, shocked by his sudden intrusion into the orderly pandemonium.

"I'll go," Gregor told the Council. "None of you will have to make a choice. Give my life to them for the life of the hostages."

"Don't do this, you fool," Ripred snarled at him. "Do you-"

"It's not your decision to make," Gregor shut Ripred down. "I've made my decision… and I'll stand by it."

Shock registered on close to everyone's face, which emanated from Gregor's controversial decision. Their god had decided to give up his life for one hundred meaningless, insignificant humans… Of course they'd be shocked.

It was a little ironic, considering how willing they were to sacrifice him in the past. They'd left him a victim to a prophecy and a victim to public opinion so that they could delay their imminent destruction. Perhaps they were shocked because his sacrifice wasn't a decision they made this time.

All empires fall eventually, but this city would endure for years to come, thanks to the son of the sun.

"Take him into custody," Daedalus mumbled softly. He didn't have to speak up for every corner of the vast hall to hear every word escaping his lips or every inflection in his despondent tone. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that engulfed the hall.

Two guards came up and gripped Gregor's arms firmly but gently, before leading him out of the hall, which could have been mistaken for a graveyard to a blind man. Every step echoed momentously throughout the hall, as if these steps meant more than the millions of others Gregor had taken in his life.

The moment he stepped out of the hall, the guards came to an abrupt halt. "Are you guys not taking me to the prison?" Gregor asked them casually.

"You're not going to stay there," one guard informed him. "And before we lead you anywhere else, it has come to our attention that someone would like to speak to you."

"Who?" Gregor asked instantly, intrigued by their evasive answers.

"Me," Luxa answered, stepping into view. She nodded at the guards, who immediately let go off Gregor and backed off. They stood in the vicinity, but made sure they were out of earshot so that the power couple of Regalia could speak privately.

Ex-couple, that is.

She turned to him and stared right at him.

He stared right back at her.

It was uncomfortable and unnerving to look someone straight in the eye. It made Gregor feel especially vulnerable because he knew he was exposing his rawest emotions to her- she could see right through any masquerade he was putting up by staring into his eyes. It was always the eyes which betrayed a person's genuine emotion. But he stared back, because as uncomfortable as it was, he wanted to let her in.

He wanted her to see he still loved her.

After what felt like millennia of looking into her eyes, he decided to break the intensity of the moment.

"I had to do it."

"Why?" she asked, still not breaking her stare.

Gregor gazed into those purple irises of hers and realised how lucky he was when he was together with her. In the last two years, it was Luxa who became his pillar of support when the very foundation of his morality was under threat.

When he began to doubt himself and the faith of the people around him, she convinced him to retain hope in Regalia and himself. She managed to fool him into believing he could redeem his own soul, even when deep down he knew each murder he committed was a mortal sin which could never be justified or forgiven.

She had single-handedly given a man damned to hell a false ideal of the goodness he thought he still had. But he wasn't upset that she had given him hope where there was none… In fact, he was grateful. Because when he nearly let go of his whole world in those dark, merciless nights, she was the guiding light who helped him stay true to the path he had set foot on.

She had illuminated his world with her light.

Luxa.

"I did it for you," he told her bluntly, "and Regalia. Those people are innocent. They don't deserve to suffer for what I've done."

"What do you mean?" Luxa pressed on, appearing emotionless and indifferent. Gregor knew better, though. This was her front, the facade she invented to hide her weakness by displaying her iron will in public.

"I invaded the Fount," he confessed. "I did it… I did it…"

Gregor couldn't look into her eyes anymore. He bowed his head in utter shame, furious and embarrassed that his recklessness and thrown so many people into harm's way.

"I did it cos' I wanted to prove that I'd been faithful to you, Luxa. I… I wanted to find out why Stellovet had broken us up. I didn't consider that they'd come back here for revenge."

He finally tilted his head upwards to face her once more. Her expression was just as stoic as just now, but her eyes were brimming with tears. "Gregor…" she began, and they began to fall.

They rained down and hit the ground softly, leaving their mark on the stone floor. Her face remained as tight and unfeeling as before. She didn't bother to hide the little droplets that began to assault the floor beneath their feet.

They had the whole world in front of them and they stared at it as it bowed to them. But when the ground beneath their feet shook, the whole world disappeared and crumbled before them. Stellovet had destroyed the last bond that kept them going as leaders and pioneers of the new age that dawned on the Underland.

"You don't have to do this," she told him. "We still need you. This city needs you."

"I don't want to answer to it anymore," he replied. "There's only one reason I still did so all these years, and I lost that reason a couple of days ago."

It was Luxa's turn to bow her head.

"I need you, Gregor."

Of all the responses Gregor had anticipated, this was the last one on his list. Stunned by that line, he shifted a little to his right and began to look around him, using the sights and sounds of Regalia to keep him grounded in reality.

I need you, Gregor.

"Don't surrender to the Fount, Gregor," she continued. "That's exactly what they want you to we give in to their demands-"

"I'm not surrendering to the Fount," Gregor corrected her. "I'm surrendering to Regalia. This city wants me to sacrifice myself, because the hostages are their friends and family. I'm just an Overlander to them."

"They worship you like a god," Luxa responded. "They wouldn't give up their god."

"Maybe they should," Gregor replied glumly, "because I can't be a god to them."

Luxa nodded slowly in understanding. "Do you have a plan?"

"I don't need one. I'm prepared to face the consequences. I don't care what punishment is meted out by York, as long as it appeases him. The answer to a threat shouldn't be a counter-threat. It should be peace."

"An eye for an eye makes the world go blind," Luxa recalled. "You taught me that phrase."

"Gandhi. It applies to the Underland more than ever before," Gregor replied.

"It's quite profound," Luxa said with a little hint of a smile on her lips, "which is unusual coming from you."

"Hey!" Gregor protested, "I have brains too, thank you very much."

For a moment, the two of them just chuckled. But the momentary light-heartedness gave way as a grave memory resurfaced. Gregor began to reminisce about his time with Luxa, and amongst the collection of images he had collected in his memory scrapbook, one in particular seemed to stand out, especially given the situation he was in.

A museum. A camera. A couple of smiles. A glimpse of sadness in the eyes. And yet her temple resting against his cheek, a reminder of the emotional intimacy they had achieved. A reminder of every brutal obstacle they had plowed through at the ripe old age of twelve.

A reminder of love.

"We can rely on Howard to handle the diplomacy," she suggested. "Don't throw your life away for this city or me."

"Howard can't stand up against his family," Gregor argued. "It'd be… awkward, especially for him to side with me against them."

"Then leave it to no one," Luxa pleaded.

"I can't," Gregor shook his head, before beckoning for the guards to come and escort him away. "Luxa… I don't… I don't know what will happen to me. But… if this is the last time…"

His voice broke and he couldn't put forward a coherent sentence. He was too shaken by fear and despair to organise his thoughts and his words. He could be making the long walk towards his death very soon, but that wasn't what he was frightened of. He was frightened of saying goodbye to Luxa.

A pale hand rested on his cheek and caressed it tenderly. Gregor gazed at Luxa's tear-stained face and felt his heart swell from love and sadness. "Fly you high, Gregor," she whispered.

"I love you," he whispered back, the words leaving his lips just as effortlessly as they did over a decade ago, when he thought he would never see her again. There was a sense of poetry about this moment, like fate had softened and become sentimental.

As the guards gripped his arms and led him away, Gregor could have sworn he heard Luxa whisper back,

"I love you."


"Why are we here?" Gregor asked uneasily as he stepped into the chilly air of the dark prison. The echoes that reverberated around the corridors were like a haunted choir, singing a final hymn to those who entered the forbidding, imposing monstrosity.

"The Council did not reveal this information to the public," one of the guards answered, "but you weren't the only one involved in this deal. I'm not so sure the queen knows about this either."

"What the hell is going on?" Gregor asked agitatedly as the cold air ran its fingers down the goosebumps that covered his skin.

They brought him wordlessly down the winding corridors, appearing afraid to reveal what it was that they concealed deep in the darkest reserves of their mind. Gregor thought he heard hysterical screaming coming from one of the prison cells, but knew that could just have been his imagination. But then again, who knew what unearthly souls languished in the darkest corners of this hell below earth.

And then they rounded another corner and Gregor found himself in front of a lift.

"No," Gregor said, panic starting to rise in his chest as he realised what was going on. "What the hell was the Council thinking?"

A dozen heavily armed guards stood in front of him, all looking sturdy and brave enough to tackle the evil which they were about to face head on. One look at their body language told another story, one which was a polar opposite to their own physical build. They shifted from foot to foot, glancing about nervously as if they expected the very shadows of this dungeon to spring forward and devour them.

"Let's pay him a visit," the guard to Gregor's right said calmly.

All of them got onto the lift, which barely sustained their combined weight, and yet the air around them felt heavier than it had ever been before. One of the guards pulled a lever, and the lift seemed to groan as it slowly made its way down with a series of creaking noises ensuing.

The moment they reached the bottom, about half of the heavily armed men jogged forward and drew out their weapons. The began to undo the intricate locks that bound the heavy doors in place, and quickly heaved it open to reveal the room's sole inhabitant. Gregor nearly took a step back from the blinding white which felt so striking compared to the dark, dull colours of the rest of the prison. Then his eyes rested on the figure lying prone on the floor.

Gorger's dark, malevolent eyes shifted upwards, and almost everybody reared back in fear when they saw the malice in his eyes. A cruel grin spread across his face like the bubonic plague, devouring every corner until it proudly displayed the sheer twistedness of the monster which wore it.

"Well," he said, his eerie rasp clearly underlying the excitement in his voice, "this day came faster than I expected."

"Gorger," Gregor spat, unable and unwilling to keep the disgust out of his voice.

"Warrior," Gorger sneered, "I see you've been abandoned by these… ingrates."

"Give us five minutes," Gregor requested. The other guards nodded politely and began to leave the room one by one. The last one to leave handed Gregor a sword and said, "For your protection, Warrior."

Gregor nodded gratefully and patiently waited for the heavy doors to close ominously behind him. The moment the doors came to their place with a thud, he turned back to look at Gorger.

"I chose to make this sacrifice myself," Gregor retorted. "Something which you would never do for your own kind."

"Of course not!" Gorger guffawed, as if the idea Gregor had put forth was a ridiculous punchline. "Why on earth would I do that?"

When Gregor failed to provide a response, Gorger went on, "You know what's your greatest weakness, Warrior? You're a… a walking contradiction. You're a natural killer, yet you still believe in honour and valour and goodness and all the sappy shit that comes along with it. You only kill when you think it's justified. It limits your potential and makes you… one of them."

Gorger cocked his head and seemed to gesture behind Gregor, probably at the soldiers outside the cell. "They're just pawns in a game of chess," Gorger explained. "You're the… Queen? Rook? I don't know. But you've got a chance to make a big difference, except you choose not to, because of those… beliefs of yours."

"Those beliefs set me apart from scumbags like you," Gregor snarled.

"No," Gorger shook his head in disappointment, "No, they don't. They make you an idiot. Your greatest strength is your rager abilities, but you choose not to harness them because… Because you think it's wrong? You kill anyway, so why choose to hold back from killing Regalians?"

"They're my people," Gregor replied defiantly.

"So is Ripred," Gorger scoffed. "Do you see me giving a shit about that bastard's life? I'd kill him given the right opportunity to. And that's without even blinking, by the way."

"Are you trying to get me to kill you?" Gregor asked, genuinely confused by the point Gorger was trying to make.

"Maybe," Gorger replied with a savage smile. "If that's what it takes to help you become who you are meant to be, then yes. Please go ahead and kill me. It won't be any different from what you've done in the past. At least this time you're not killing someone's brother or father or mother."

Gregor felt his head throb as blood surged upwards within seconds. He felt a familiar pounding against his temple and his veins began to stand out as the blood coursed through his veins faster and faster and faster.

Gorger was really pissing him off.

Without any warning, Gregor hurled himself forward and slammed into Gorger, pinning the dishevelled rat against the wall. A split second later, Gregor placed his sword against the rat's jugular vein.

"You really want to die?" Gregor hissed, with his fury sizzling and boiling deep down in his gut.

"Oh yes," Gorger said, giggling away like a schoolkid. "PLEASE go ahead and do it. Become who you're meant to be. Become a real RAGER."

Gregor's flaming anger was quickly met with a blizzard of ice as a chill ran through his body. It wasn't because of what Gorger said, but what Gregor saw in his eyes. Even when he was facing death, the rat still mocked it and taunted it, as if he welcomed his own death. To Gregor's utter surprise, when he looked deep into the rat's black, beady eyes, he couldn't see a single trace of fear.

Gorger didn't fear death, even when it was staring right at him.

If you want to kill me, it really doesn't matter. That's the problem with you pups. All of you subconsciously believe that you are immortal and infallible, when in reality you are just as vulnerable as the rest of us. I've already accepted that my death is inevitable, whether by your hand or another. I know that one day, my name will just be a faint whisper in a light breeze floating through the Dead Lands, but it will never be anything more than that.

So kill me, because I truly do not care.

"Even with all those rager abilities," Gorger smirked, "you still can't do anything to frighten me."

And that frightened Gregor. The greatest strength Gregor had as a person was arguably his rager abilities, and even in a straight fight with Gorger it was irrelevant. Because even if he killed Gorger, the rat would die with a smile on his face.

The rat would still have won.

And if one argued that Gregor's greatest strength was his compassion… Well, Gorger had torn that entire idea down within a span of minutes. Somehow, even with all of Gregor's determination to make himself a better person, Gorger had found a way to crush the sense of morality he thought he had established.

Gregor would always be a murderer, no matter what he chose to do with his future.

"Kill me," Gorger almost seemed to be begging. "Let the guards outside see you for who you truly are."

Gregor lifted his blade up and stepped away from Gorger, trying hard not to gag at the stench that seemed to swirl around the rat. He smelled like he had gone for a swim in shit-infested sewers.

"We're going to go through with this deal," Gregor said firmly. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't intend to kill you."

"We'll see about that after I kill your friends," Gorger said with his trademark fiendish grin. "We'll push you to the very limit."

Gregor just glared down at the rat, who seemed so inferior to Gregor physically, when in truth one held a huge advantage over the other. Gorger had nullified his greatest strength, and probably knew Gregor's emotional Achilles heel too. Even as Gregor stood over him, he knew he was at the mercy of the most diabolical, nefarious individual in the whole of Regalia.

Gorger staggered to his feet and eyed Gregor from head to toe. "You and I made a leap together all those years ago," Gorger recalled somewhat fondly. "It's time for us to make a leap of faith again."

"I leaped," Gregor replied coldly. "You fell."

Gorger just chuckled, before saying,

"Let's see who makes it this time."


Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I used it to paint the emotional relationship between Gregor and Luxa, as well as the dark, twisted side of Gorger. Also, hope my non-Christian readers don't mind the occasional Biblical imagery. I just thought it'd be an interesting parallel to see Gregor sacrifice himself for Regalia, just as Jesus did in the New Testament. This is NOT me trying to impose my personal beliefs on you.

Question: Do you think Gregor and Luxa properly reconciled in this chapter? Or do you think their relationship is still up in the air?

And rank your top 5 most evil villains in the story for me to see what you guys think of the enemies Gregor and Calvin have faced! The choices are: Flavius, Brutus, The Bane (only appears in Gregor's imagination), Snake, Dr Schmidt, Gorger, Conrad… Or anyone else you can think of!