Chapter 321. The Hunt for the Eternals
"Let us set everything else aside for the moment. First, you must find the strongest among your kin," Noah suggested, his voice calm but carrying an edge of pragmatic steel.
He leaned against the weathered stone of the sanctuary, his eyes tracking the horizon. "That one called Ikaris... he was ready to butcher you in the name of your Celestial. He failed this time, but a man like that does not simply tuck tail and vanish. He will return, and he will be hungry for blood."
Noah had no intention of tethering himself to Ajak indefinitely, playing the part of a perpetual shadow or a tireless bodyguard. His plan was simpler, more efficient: help Ajak rally a cadre of her most formidable allies and then leave her in their capable, immortal hands.
Ajak lowered her gaze, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the fabric of her robes. She understood the unspoken truth in his words. Ikaris was a zealot, and zealots were defined by their persistence. If he sensed Noah's absence, he would strike again, swifter and more ruthless than before.
"We could start with Sersi and Sprite," Ajak murmured after a long, contemplative silence. "They are not far, still within the borders of this country."
"The two you speak of are no longer in America," Noah interjected, his tone flat. "They've departed for London."
He had intended to track those two Eternals down himself earlier that day, only to find the trail cold. It was only after he'd tasked Lissandra with a more thorough investigation that the truth surfaced: they had crossed the Atlantic, seeking refuge in the fog of England.
"Oh?" Ajak's brow furrowed, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing her ancient features. She had tried to maintain a respectful distance from the lives of her fellow Eternals, acting more as a distant matriarch than a hovering warden. Only when Ikaris had abruptly abandoned Sersi did Ajak's resolve waver; worried that Sersi would spiral into a dark melancholy, she had sent Sprite—who had lived with Sersi for centuries—to provide whatever comfort an immortal could offer.
"You have met Sersi and Sprite before?" Ajak asked, her voice laced with a hint of suspicion.
"I encountered them once, though I didn't know their names at the time," Noah explained, his expression unreadable. "But when you described two Eternals residing in America, it wasn't hard to connect the dots."
Ajak closed her eyes, drawing a deep, steadying breath. Within the core of her being, the golden sphere—the Sigil of the Prime Eternal—began to pulse with a soft, rhythmic light. In the theater of her mind, the silhouettes of her scattered family flickered into existence.
This sphere was more than a mere badge of office; it was a cosmic bridge. It allowed her not only to commune with the unfathomable Arishem but to sense the very heartbeat of every Eternal bound to this world. ** It was the same artifact that Phastos, the great tinkerer of their race, would eventually use to forge the Uni-Mind—the device that would allow Sersi to turn a gestating god into unfeeling stone.
"Sersi and Sprite are indeed gone from these shores," Ajak confirmed, her eyes still shut. The golden maps of her mind shifted, scanning the globe. She searched for the familiar, searing radiance of Ikaris, but found only a cold void. It seemed he had left the atmosphere entirely, drifting beyond the reach of her terrestrial senses.
She shifted her focus, her mental gaze sweeping across the southern hemisphere. "Gilgamesh and Thena," she said, her voice strengthening. "They are among the mightiest warriors we have. And, fortunately, they are together. We should find them first."
"Gilgamesh? Thena?" Noah repeated the names, the gears of his memory grinding as he reached back for the half-forgotten details of the cinematic world he had once known.
The names were a bit hazy, but the powers—those remained vivid. As Ajak spoke, the images solidified in his mind. The Palm-Slapper and The Valkyrie.
One was a titan of raw, physical devastation; the other was a combat savant who mirrored the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj, weaving the golden threads of cosmic energy into a deadly arsenal of spears and shields.
Noah recalled that in terms of sheer, earth-shaking strength, Gilgamesh surpassed even Ikaris. However, the heavy-hitter lacked the gift of flight and the versatility of ranged attacks. In a duel to the death, the outcome against Ikaris would be a toss-up. And then there was Thena—a whirlwind of blades, but one haunted by a fracturing mind. He remembered the stories of her "Mahd Wy'ry," a sickness that turned her into a mindless engine of destruction, striking at friend and foe alike.
"Fine," Noah conceded. "They will do. Where are they hiding?"
"Australia," Ajak replied.
"Hmph. Of course it's Australia."
--- The Australian Outback ---
Australia: the smallest continent, a vast, sun-bleached expanse cradled between the Pacific and Indian Oceans. It was a land defined by its isolation, a world unto itself, much like the frozen wastes of Antarctica.
Across its seven million square kilometers of red dust and scrubland, there was only one nation that claimed the entire continent as its own. It was into this wilderness that Noah's current quarry had vanished.
Noah streaked across the sky, a blur of motion against the brilliant blue. Beside him, Ajak glided through the air, though not by her own power. Noah held her aloft with a constant tether of telekinetic force, shielding her from the brutal drag of the wind as they hunted for their kin.
"Is it here? Ajak, give me the heading again," Noah commanded. Below them, the world was a monotonous tapestry of parched earth and shifting dunes.
The sun hung like a vengeful eye in the zenith, its rays baking the sand until the very air shimmered with a dizzying haze. The heat rose from the ground in thick, suffocating waves, turning the landscape into a terrestrial kiln. The air was bone-dry and searing, a localized hell that made every breath a chore. Only the occasional, hardy bird circling in the thermals broke the oppressive stillness.
Even with winter approaching, the proximity to the equator kept the Outback in a state of permanent fever. It was a place where only the most resilient could survive—a perfect sanctuary for Eternals.
"There," Ajak pointed toward the northwest, her finger steady.
Following her lead, Noah narrowed his eyes. He channeled a sliver of mana into his optic nerves, the world snapping into sharp, telescopic focus. Through the dancing heat-shimmer, a speck of civilization emerged from the wasteland: a humble mud-brick house, flanked by a rusted water tower and a skeletal structure that looked like a cross between a radio mast and a makeshift windmill.
"Found them," Noah said, a thin smile touching his lips. He banked sharply, accelerating until the air thundered behind them.
Cocooned within Noah's protective magical field, Ajak felt none of the crushing G-forces. Within seconds, the distant shack transformed into a solid structure.
It was a lonely, desolate spot—precisely what they needed. Gilgamesh had chosen this emptiness for a reason: to ensure that when Thena's mind inevitably broke, there would be no innocents nearby to suffer her wrath. As they descended, Ajak began to speak, her voice heavy with worry as she detailed the tragic progression of Thena's mental decay.
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