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As he wandered the endless halls of the Eternity Pass, the link between dimensions, worlds and universes. He remained silent, letting the cape hang down from his shoulders and the three inscribings on his left shoulder glow, they blazed in light simply because the power of the truth is unmatched by anything else. The reality of conflict is to not be spoken of, instead learned, people whom experienced conflict have learned, and are therefor allowed to bare witness the truth of conflict written on both his body and on the left of his shoulder, the shield arm, the arm of which protects. Millions of deaths spanning his mind at any given time from millions of different universes, one in particular found his interest, however. A fighter pilot, her gift from the allfather had been great, he'd seen her potential like he did himself. It was a surprisingly still time, for minutes he'd walked these halls without any interruption, was it finally time for his peace? The end of his Eternal Crusade?

Conquestus didn't think so highly of mortals, he knows their nature. There will always be war, crossing conflicts. Small arguments escelate into war, war escelates into destruction, the taking away of life. He'd done the process millions, if not trillions of times, he's killed countless numbers of any age group and he's demolished uncountable civilizations, some so advanced that they took to the stars. He's never found justice in doing so, he only finds guilt, forced to do what killed him even in the afterlife, however someone has to bare the burden and it is the sole reason he's still existant, to bare the heaviest burden of all, the death of a million souls every moment of every second.

Souls whisper in his ears of the unjustice of their death, they scream and shout at how they didn't deserve this type of faith, they tell him that it wasn't their fault, they swear of revenge and threaten even himself, Conquestus, a Deity of Conflict. The whispers hold familiairty, he knows the name of every voice which makes itself known in his head. He is like a reaper of sorts, however, he's supposed to be a just angel, an angel of conflict, but the only thing of which is angelic about him is the fact that occationally, he kills the evil-doers. A Dying Angel, A Falling Angel. He feels his body chackled to the white hall, unable to fly or even spread his wings if he wanted. His fate is to be locked to the ground, unable to feel what normal angels feel every day, he looks up to the sky in wishing for salvation but he knows that no one will bring it upon a killer of a million children, and their two million parents.

The chains and chakles keep him to work, ever slaughtering, ever punishing and taking. However, even for a simple minute he's free from such acts, His presence in the Eternity Pass is that of peace, not forced to flay, slaughter, maim or burn anything. It is tranquility, his paradise of which he wished to live forever. Suddenly he felt the watching eyes of the allfather pass through him for a brief moment and he swifly turned around, he knew that he was chosen for this task because he is the only one who truly knows it, thinking about another alternative is not something he is worthy of. ''Excuse me, allfather.'' He spoke out, his words echoed the white dimension which was the Eternity Pass.

As sudden as the gaze of the allfather pierced through him he found himself in a jungle, after a quick review of the environment he decided to wander to the tree, the pressence of the allfather ever with him, almost guiding him between the massive trees around him. Never was he lost, nor was he at peace, when he finally arrived he felt as if he'd been through this a thousand times, the familiarity of the massive tree felt curious, however he didn't think much of it, he was met by a female clad in a glorious robe, he was kindly given a letter, he didn't need this hospitality, he was a killer of millions, all he deserved was the cold glare of any normal person.

Nevertheless he opened the letter, his titanic body towering above the female, with the Vanquisher of Conflict on his back and the Protector against Unjustice in his left hand he was more then prepaired for his normal ordeal. The paper almost opened itself in the hand of Conquestus and he read the letter, from front to end, as perfectly as anyone could read it.

[i]You are here to learn how to take my place when the time comes. 
You may be upset with me now, but my dear you will understand
Everything when the day arrives. You will become a God.
Your own.[/i] 

The rage boiled within him, A God of Conflict? The idea was of complete terror to him. Chackled to the ground, unable to spread to the skies of the world above for eternity? As a demi-god he knew that there would, in the end, be peace for him in death, he knew that Demi-gods are capable of death, no-matter how long they'd live, however a god is omnipotent, omniscient, unable of death. He wanted to smash this world apart, however his senses became clear and his simple stand infront of the woman would be terrifying to witness, suddenly he was located on a platform on the tree, a supposedly self grown one, in the center is the Temple of Thea, he's heard of it, a place of light. Even up here, a mere couple of meters above the ground, he felt his invisible chains pulling him to the ground. However a figure of Conquestus could impossibly enter it's sacred halls uncleansed. He simply stood there, titanic in nature and apearence he stood still, glaring with his blazing eyes the temple of Thea, he felt sick of his very presence this close to it's foundation. He didn't move, simply stood and took notice of the figures around him. 

Demi-gods of all kinds and sizes, even the fighter pilot he'd seen visions of were here, present. He knew that the allfather would pick her for what she was, however he flet jealous of her capabilities, unchained, unchackled to the ground, capable of lifting up, flying as high into the sky as her imagination can bring her. He remained still, not because of uncertainty or unknowingness of the land, but because he was not worthy of enterance. His back body covered by the ripped black cloak, however the wind soon wished to bring it with them, and therefor the cape blew with the wind, stuck to Conquestus shoulders, however, magically the Signatum Conflictus remained unmoved, the three pieces of cloth like paper remained untouched or unaffected by the wind, on these cloths were almost eternal text's written in the language of the allfather himself, not anyone would be able to read it, however those who would, will know the truth of conflict.

So there he stood, before one of the holiest of all temples, unable or unwilling of entering it's sacred halls.