The Empty City is the name which modern humanity has given to the sprawling metropolis which fills its own sentient pocket universe. It is an ever changing landscape of silent towers and maze like alleys, drawing unwary travelers into its streets where they become lost for all time.

The Fears had gathered in the City, atop one of its towers, in preparation for their war. Some had come to face the death which they had foreseen. Others, to fight against it.

Not all Fears were in attendance. EAT, the Archangel, the Convocation, the Slender Man, and the Manufactured Newborn were absent, pursuing their own agendas. And those which had sided with Grendel would be arriving later.

The death of the Grotesque was felt by all in attendance. It was a sign that the end had come, and all eyes looked upwards in expectation. A hole larger than one of the City’s blocks ripped open in the sky, and an army of monsters poured out. They struck the Fears like a wave, dying by the hundreds, but driving the Fears way from the skyscraper.

Grendel descended into the City, the Burning Bride at his side. He plunged his burning sword into the top of one of the City’s towers, and the skyscraper collapsed. The ground underneath the building opened up, crumbling away into a pit that descended into darkness. With the Fears occupied, Grendel and the Bride floated into down into the pit, into the heart of the Empty City. Human measurements couldn’t describe how far down they went. The closest approximation would be to say that the pit was simultaneously hundreds of miles down, but also only ten feet deep.

At the bottom was a smoky cell, filled with chains dangling in the air. With a single swing, Grendel severed the chains. As they fell to the ground, the smoke in the room came together, forming into a shape. It became a huge man, twice as tall as Grendel, with broad muscular shoulders from which broken chains still hung. Its face was covered by a grey hood, but ember eyes could be seen peering out. Below its waist, its body became a vortex of smoke that hovered above the ground.

The Burning Bride slowly took steps forward. The man of smoke opened its arms, and the two embraced. The Brute and the Burning Bride; smoke and fire, together once again. The God of war and destruction had been made whole.

They flew out of that prison, into the battlefield, hatred driving their revenge. The Brute’s fists were like mountain, leveling buildings with each strike. And the Bride’s fire spread across the city, consuming everything it touched, whether friend or foe. And so the Empty City seemed turned into a hell.

Grendel laughed as he leapt through the flames, chasing after the gods he hunted. He saw the Blind Man, and pounced toward the Fear. The old man opened its book and started to write in it, but Grendel swung his sword, and the Blind Man’s head came off. Black tentacles burst from Grendel’s back, and enveloped the Fear, consuming its body in seconds.

But the cavalry was soon to arrive. Following the path made by Grendel, I-330 fell from the hole in the sky into the burning city. She found Grendel amongst the fires, still savoring the aftertaste of his meal. She pointed her sword at him and said, “I’m here to stop you, Grendel. It’s over.”

“Over? Au contraire, my dear. This is only step two. We still have much to do.”

I-330 shouted a battle cry and charged at him, clumsily swinging her sword like a club. Grendel bounced back from the first few swings, then brought his own sword up to block. The impact of the two burning swords sent out a shockwave that extinguished the fires around them.

Another I-330 appeared to attack Grendel, but he teleported away onto a building. I-330 followed him, and their swords clashed again. I-330 pressed on, swinging again and again as she tried to hit him, but Grendel kept moving away, blocking and teleporting to always stay just out of reach. Their fight continued until it took them to the edge of the pit where the Brute had been imprisoned.

That was where Grendel made his strike. His sword lashed out, cutting I-330’s right arm. The wound was minor, but the sword’s touch had burnt like molten metal. I-330 dropped her sword and screamed. But that screamed turned into a growl, and she lunged to pick up her sword. Grendel crushed her right hand under his foot before she could reach it, then caught her left arm when she tried hitting him.

“You’re acting particularly violent today.” He said. “You should calm down, and find someplace to wait this out. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt in all this fighting.”

I-330 spat in his face. “I’ll kill you! I will tear off your leg and knock your own head off with it! Then I’m going to kick your head into a garbage dump while I use the rest of your body for target practice with artillery shells!”

“See, that is exactly the attitude I am talking about.” Grendel sighed. “Spare the rod….”

Grendel brought his sword down on I-330’s left arm, cutting just beneath the elbow. It passed through easily, not even being slowed by the bone. For a fraction of a moment, shock numbed I-330. Then the pain engulfed her, and she screamed as she clutched the limb’s stump. Grendel held on to the severed arm, looking over it with hunger. He held it up so the blood flowed from the veins into his open mouth. Then he bit into it, and moaned as he savored the flesh’s taste.

His teeth tore into the arm, blood dripping down his chin, moaning and gasping between each bite. When he finished, he looked at I-330, eyes roaming her body.

“I can’t wait to have the rest of you.” He said. “But the feast will taste all the better for the wait.” He grabbed I-330 by her tie and lifted her up. “Stay put here until I come back for you.” Then he threw her into the pit.

Grendel watched as I-330 fell, then turned and slashed across the air with his sword. It left a floating gash, through which the city of Cairo could be seen. Grendel stepped through the gash, followed by innumerable beasts. The revolution was coming to Earth.

***

Impossibly far away, past the border of the universe, an older I-330 followed the paths of time, using the charts of the ancient plaque to guide her. Past all the stars and worlds, all the way to the Center of the Multiverse. The point where all timelines originate from, branching into infinite universes. It was an eldritch place, lacking any real physical form. But I-330’s mind was still human enough that it tried crafting its own image of the impossible place. She saw it as a whirlpool of darkness, from which time streamed out.

I-330 took a step forward, and then jumped into it.