A woman's chuckle is heard from behind where Laadan was, now replaced with a strange yet fair pale white woman, more humanoid this time in appearance. On one side of her face was a horned black mask, but on the other, where an ear should be, was the familiar antennae. A halo hovered from the back of her head made of a somewhat solid blue light, and over her face was a cross-like symbol. She was still covered with her robe-like wings, more resembling somewhat large fairy-like wings. Her eyes themselves were human-like in orientation but glowing blue, the third eye remaining closed. She smiles widely. A switch had occurred ever so subtly when they weren't looking. Her body seemed also somewhat translucent but more solid.

"I mean no disrespect, sir Vargas, but seeing as you are like a beacon of hope to these people is well, endearing," Chuza says with another chuckle, pressing her hands to her cheeks. Her voice was soft, only slightly strange compared to the others. "It clearly means a lot to them to have one..."

She gasps, forgetting her manners for a moment, and how awkward this may be. She holds out a black and white hand with four fingers, split down the middle between the hands and down the arm.

"I'm Chuza, a pleasure to meet you all... you've met my sister Laadan. I hope she was not too crass. And since you seem to be a very righteous person, sir Vargas, I'm sure we'll get along splendidly!"

As soon as the quartet and the others enter the pub, a wall of sound threatened to knock them off their feet. A large audience were watching two figures perform what those in Discworld referred to as Music With Rocks In. It was like any other concert the Chosen Few had been too, except without broken teeth and stoned dealers and even more bouldered hippies.
The group were aware that somehow Adam recognised the duo on the stage, because he began to wave his arm at the performers and yelling, "Ey! It's me! Adam! From Skele Manor!" They tried not to look embarassed.
Then there was a sound behind them, one that climbed up their nervous system and straight into their libido, triggering alarms in their heads. It was a chuckle, and, where Laadan used to be, there was now a more humanoid figure. Compared to her more exotic counterpart, the woman was tame in appearance, though she still had few signs that signalled her abnormality, like, for example, the antennae in place of one ear. She still had the effect that dwarfed pheromones.
Of course, Adam hasn't noticed her until Fancy nudged him with an elbow. "Adam," he whispered, his eyes still on the woman, "Laadan's changed."
"What?" the skeleton responded, his attention towards the sisters redirected at Fancy, and then at the woman behind him. Although he wasn't the sexual type of person - his vacant mind simply didn't hold with it - he whistled at the sight before him. The woman introduced herself as Chuza to the Grand Gaian hero. Max would step in front of his colleagues, who were still getting over the shock, and smoothed his nonexistant hair.
"And my name is Max. Max the Robloxian," he would speak smoothly. The sight of him attempting to flirt with the woman was enough to knock the others out of shock, who smoothed themselves out, trying in vain to make themselves more presentable, and smiled foolishly.

Vargas turned around when Jen heard the strange new voice, in place of Laadan a more humanoid figure. She still had some alien features on her but other than that, Vargas thought it was like multiple souls living in a single body. A very rare sight indeed, but something he did see before. "Pleased to meet you as well Chuza! And I am not the one to derserve all the praise, the other heroes derserve just as much. No clue where each of them is but I can guess they are back at their own homelands." He replied before facing the Skeletons and Robloxian as they began to sound more manly. In an attempt to make a good impression with Chuza. In any case he laughed a bit beforehand he turned to face the more energetic of the two sisters Litteraly run right up to him. He knew those two, one of the most widely known bands in Grand Gaia.

"I am so happy to meet you Vargas! Oh wow! Adam! And more people from that Imagiverse place! This is so cool! I wish we could perform more however we are pretty tired...and I botched the last song by panicking when I saw Vargas..." Valfiel excitedly spoke just as her sister appeared. "Hello Vargas, and hello Adam and associates. Welcome to Grand Gaia. It's nice that you all decided to visit." She spoke peering from her sisters back.

Chuza places a hand over her mouth, realizing she was not only among one heroic figure, but five. She casts a glance at each of them, as strangely different as they were in many different ways, then chuckles to herself as they try to play it smooth. She may not have been long in this plane of existence, but she understood the motions all too well. Laadan would have reveled in this, she thought.

"The pleasure is all mine," she responds enthusiastically, clasping her hands together and putting her hingers up to her lips. "I have always wanted to be a hero, to be among heroes. Course, I've yet to do anything noteworthy, so you see, I admire those that have and maybe will find something through them. I admit I'm a bit overwhelmed, really!"

As the two sisters talk so familiarly about not only Vargas, but also of Adam, her eyes get starry for a moment.

"Aww~, it is like you have a little fanclub too," she coos, pointing at the fairy sisters. "Ah, but you two have something special other than such exquisite musical talents, would you happen to be heroes as well?"

"Weeeelll," said Adam, scratching the back of his spinal neck awkwardly. "I wouldn't think of us as very heroic. We just do what we do, y'know, fighting wossnames of vice, that sorta thing."
"Urr, I would clathhify that ath heroic," Jack said. "I mean, it'th not chartered accountanthy."
"C'mon, Adam," said Fancy cheerfully as he nudged him with his thin elbow. "Why wouldn't you call it heroic when you fight gods and demons? I mean, like Jack said, not everybody gets to do that!"
"Yeh, but there's a lot of heroes out there, so it isn't new."
"Well, that doesn't matter! Just because there's hundreds of people doing the same thing, doesn't mean it's not heroism."
The skeleton grunted and shrugged.
When the fairy sisters talk momentarily about Adam, Fancy would look at the bashful skeleton. "You met these girls before, Adam?"
"Oh yeah!" said Adam as-a-matter-of-factly. "Who'd you think I was talking about earlier?"
Light dawned on the group, who looked at the sisters with newly found astonishment.
"Oh, so you're the warrior-musicians?" said the smirking Robloxian, crossing his arms. "So you met John as well? I've known him for a while, since I knew Adam, and I'm confident to say that I've never met a more deranged corpse in my life. In my opinion, his little ghost town needs someone like him."
"Yeah, he's a bit out of it," said Adam admittingly. "But, to be frank, he's a great guy. Reads a lot, mind you, and he knows a lot more about the Imagiverse than I, than we, do."

"Well, we could be classified as heroes. Although we just feel like we are just doing our part. We do fight many demons and monsters but have yet to face an actuall God. Vargas and the over five are the real heroes, they willingly led all of humanity together to fight, refusing to surrender as the held the God armies back and even slaying the Gods themself, even after their fall many others spurred on by their heroic acts ensured everyone got out safely...of curse they paid the ultimate by price....We are just more braver people that's all." Valfiel replied.

Elyzia looked at Chuza when she mentioned fan club. "We are just aquantences, we met in their world after some unlucky or lucky event in our world. Adam and John helped us return home. As for the heroes part, I feel as though we have yet to become actuall heroes, however in our eyes and for the people we save we are heroes. But of course if you are all here at a bar, everyone here can enjoy two rounds on us. A small token of our appreciation." And with Elyzia's proclamation the entire bar cheered.

Chuza watched the skeleton's reaction to being called a hero and placed a hand on her chin. It seemed to her that perhaps somewhere along the lines it became just a set of motions to him, perhaps lost its meaning somewhere down the road. Of course, this was only based on her observations through Laadan, and her only recent first hand experience.

"Perhaps it just feels at this point like there are no stakes, or what you do carries any weight over that of others," she says somewhat quietly when addressing Adam. "Maybe life itself has lost some of its flare, not that it can be blamed given that... well, ahem... but still, look at this world, everyone has suffered so much, reduced perhaps to just small groups like this scattered throughout, and yet here they are cheering and partying like everything is going to be okay in the end. Ehm... I'm probably sounding like some corny Christmas special here... maybe you just need something with more meaning to it."

She then turned to the fairy sisters, hearing about triumph and loss. Inside she felt some shame, that Laadan had proven more heroic than herself, acting on a whim without any notable self gain. For a long time she had considered her sister to be just an Id and nothing more, a beast gluttonous and destructive, but it became clear she had something Chuza lacked: unbridled passion. For the first time she feels that perhaps she was wrong all along.

"I suppose if Laadan were here right now she'd say something along the lines of 'Laadan loves parties' and 'if no-good gods come here Laadan smash them personally, hah! As such if any dare try ruining the moment I'll join in showing them the door."

She then raised her right fist into the air and gave a wide smile.

Listening to Chuza's observation on his position on heroing, Adam thought about how jaded he had become during his time in the Imagiverse. It was just that he had seen things that people would go mad witnessing, malformed abominations that roamed the outer cortex of the Imagiverse, decayed visions of untold suffering and madness, the threat of having everything he knew be reduced to mere threads flapping across the frayed fabric of his reality. It's not that he had gone mad from these revelations - it is practically impossible, his mind is so vacant as to be a vacuum, sucking in any anomalous hysteria and destroying it entirely - it was just that he had gotten rather empty in the process, this being evident, to those who had known him the longest, in his characteristic vacant stare which seems to be directed somewhere thousands of miles away.
"Well, that, and that I've really got nothing to lose," said Adam.
The Chosen Few would receive a pint each of beverage, thanks to the generosity of the sisters. Max, having a liver bigger than his stomach, would down his pint in one go. "So, Vargas," the Robloxian would say, examining his empty pint. "You stood up against some Gods, did ya? By the sounds of them, that must have been demanding, to say the least. I've yet to compare these Gods of yours to the ones we have to deal with. One god, Evil Hand his name is, is the boss of a sort of demon mafia in the Imagiverse. He's, in a way, the godfather of Chaos, taking charge of all the evil in the Imagiverse. Bit of a ponce, though."
"Oh, Evil Hand?" said Fancy. "Yeah, he's-he's an oldie in terms of villains, in fact, he used to be alright, but he found that box, didn't he? The one that held a whole mass of Chaos that would become the Darkness. He opened it, it consumed the central sun of the Imagiverse - after that, they had to make seperate suns for the worlds - and it corrupted him, making him it's leader."
There would be a collective affirmative mutter from the group.

As Max asked Vargas how taxing it was to fight a god, he took a nice cold beverage and took a sip from it. "It's is pretty taxing indeed, when you fight against gods capable of hurling anything from reality destroying magic to even causing stars to fall on you its difficult to fight against. Of course not all Gods have that ability so it honestly depends...but if I have to sum it up I would have to say if I made any tiny mistakes I would have lost an arm or died. Its difficult...but when you are more busy trying to live you hardly have any time to assess the enemies strength fully." He spoke as he took another sip.

"If a God does show up! We will all beat 'em up!" Valfiel also smiled as she raised both her fists in the air and went with a small cup of wine.

Chuza hears the skeleton's response and casts a downcast look. It was clear, teetering on the edge of the emptiness, not too dissimilar to the events that lead to her own fragmentation when a portion of Owru was lost to the emptiness. It is not that hard to do when you are born into it, when time has no meaning, that life and death are empty concepts with little consequence, and time itself is nonexistent. Chuza was the side that decided that there had to be some kind of order to it all, some grander meaning to it all than simply... nothing...

While she was pondering on something to say she was handed a glass by one of the locals. She seats herself in thin air and holds it up looking it over rather curiously with her shiny blue eyes. She knew it was alcohol, but not what that actually... meant. Within mere moments, and several glasses, she had still not figured it out, but reality sure seemed to have become warped. How peculiar. And she didn't remember the pink marmosets hanging from the ceiling! But then she thinks again about what Adam had said, then looks over at everyone.

"Nothink to fight f... y'know, this place sh... is so strange, and ah... I've been thinkin' bout birthdays," she speaks her words in a somewhat slurred manner, but coordinates her thoughts better than most after how much she just downed. "What a peculiar thing, to shell-ebrate that a person exists! There's no such thing where I waz born, in fact there is nothing. Where I was born there was only the shilence er... silence, an intangible void. Nothing has any discernible meaning, to even say it was chaos, it was simply... nothing. I don't even know how when, or even why I was born, yet I remember Owru's... that is me if I were whole... mind breaking... an ocean of images... mirror fragments.. and then... Nod. And now from a place with nothing, void of meaning, to here, where everything has meaning, that even in such dark times people still find something to celebrate. And I have..."

She cuts off mid thought, looking downcast again into her empty glass. She was unable to sort her feelings, she wasn't even sure if she was actually feeling anything and was instead only reflecting the motions. The black mask gives off a faint ghostly light as she digs into her own soul for answers. She was not sure why she was even saying all this, it was like she was under the influence of something.

"I'ave in the most literal sense... nothing, nothing to return to, nothing to my name, nothing but... literally dreams... and I'm not even sure if I'll ever actually fit into anything... or if anythang I do will hold any weight... but... a toast to just existin'!"

With this she raises the glass into the air then... flops over backwards into a heap.

"Ah'm h'okay."

The group of misfits would listen to the lady's intoxicated rambling with a few smirks. Although they couldn't piece together what she was talking about, words like "void" and "mirror fragments" fleeted across their minds. It was evident that whatever this, this thing was, it-she-whatever belonged to somewhere within the edge of the Imagiverse, where emotions and incoherent dreams were more strong, the cortex if you know the brain well. In fact, the Imagiverse is like a brain put back-to-front, with the conscious neo-cortex section of the Imagiverse located in the middle, where the known worlds reside, and the emotional, illogical cortex around the edge.
This, any psycho-astrophysicist knew very well. But the Chosen Ones, who were enjoying themselves as the woman fell backwards on the floor, had no truck with it.
Another enigma, evident when Adam Skelecoot took a jolly swill of his ale, was how skeletons could drink without the necessary equipment, i.e organs. Anima-kinesiologists around the Imagiverse have determined that the said drink, when "consumed" by the corpse, transfers to the spiritual realm, where the undead's soul has all the equipment to actually consume and, and this is the Skelecoots didn't know until too late, get drunk.
So the observers in the pub would see the swig of ale pass down the bottom of the skull, reach the top of the ribcage and vanish, as if going through an invisible pipe. It didn't bother his now-slightly-pissed comrades, who were too busy laughing at the immobilised woman.

Vargas paid close attention to Chuza's speech. He was not drunk...yet, but he was still able to perceive the things around him. He would never know what it was like to be in a void, with silence all around. Chuza then started a toast to just existing. Vargas partook in the toast along with everyone in the room with a roar of approval.

Valfiel was busy drinking a nice ale like the guys while Elyzia was sitting next to her sister with a cup of low alcohol wine. Vargas himself was slowly getting drunk with a nice drink laughing heartily as his face began to become flushed. After a long days work it was nice to rest with a cold cup of ale.

All was lively and the stage had new performers, filling the bar with music. Soon a new figure entered the building, and her very presence seemed to ooze something...threatening about her. Wearing a long dress, long white hair. She seemed confident in the presence of this many people. She soon took a seat, and remained quiet. Vargas quickly noticed her and seemed to remember her...however his drunken state would not allow him to think clearly.

Chuza laid there, between a state of consciousness, staring up blankly upon a swirling ceiling, all the while flooded with thoughts in her stillness. She, that is, the collective Owru, was never a being to just... stop thinking. If she was not awake and actively checking the world around her, she was dreaming and in turn influencing her Land of Nod. Right now much of her thoughts were muddied, but also unfiltered.

"In a sea of shards, neither shadow nor light, cast from the all consuming," she mutters reaching up towards the air. "Losing self before there was a self to lose, a rage filling until there was nothing to hate, crying until there were no more tears to shed... filled with nothing until nothing remained... Zilthai... why do you cover your eyes?"

As she babbled, she somewhat took a groggy notice of the figure that recently came in, the sense of which distorting her vision slightly more than the liquor did. Suddenly sitting up she watches the person from the corner of her eye curiously.

"A warped mirror with edges cracked," she mutters to herself, trying to rationalize a feeling she got from this individual then holds her head and chuckles lightly. "Ah, haha, what spacial anomaly be this that makes me such a clutz? I feel so funny, I am so sorry, I am not normally like this."

As they listened to the alien-woman's drunken ramblings, the Chosen Few would notice a new figure entering the pub, her being emanating a hound-like menace that seemed to fill the entire building. She was beautiful, though, in her long dress and flowing white hair. She seemed like someone important, although it may not be wise to draw her attention yet.
"Hey, Vargas," Fancy said, nudging the armoured hero, nodding towards the newcomer. "You recognise her?"
The rest of the group were pinning their attention towards the incapacitated woman, drinking their ale, attempting in vain to decipher what the hell she was saying. Where-ever this "Nod" was, it was enough to split a being into many personalities like a mirror. That, for some reason, seemed more frightening than the demons they've encountered rolled in one.

"I swear I think I know her...Hey, Valfiel...Elyzia...you guys still sober?"Vargas replied as he turned to face the two sisters. Unfortanantly for him it seems they were drunk and tipsy respectively. He could feel this aura of danger, and he needed to get sober quickly.

Vargas thought for a moment, he did not have anything on him at this moment that would instantly cure his drunken state. However one of the knights from outside the city barged inside the bar. "Everyone! The God Maxwell is in the city! Run for your---Ah! She is already here!" The man pointed at the woman who had just entered the bar. He immediately ran the opposite direction and ran for his life.

Almost as if everyone had a dose of adrenaline, the patrons all scattered as Vargas quickly sobered up as he drew his sword. Valfiel and Elyzia also drew their scythes doing a less impressive job at sobering up. "Even in this state, you all huddle together using simple beverages to ease your pain despite a looming threat. Sometimes we can never understand you mortals." The woman now known as Maxwell stood up from her seat as she commented on what was going on.

Vargas quickly signaled for the others. "That is the fallen God! Get yourself undrunk quickly! She is no simple God, some say she created Grand Gaia! Her power is immense!"

As a sudden ruckus broke out in the bar Chuza was smacked back into the current reality, while unaffected reflexes catches a chair sent falling towards her face by a panicked patron, the strange part being that it was not with her hands, but from her focus upon it. She carefully sat the chair back in place and floated up onto her feet, still holding her head. Then she looked to the source of all these people's fears and squinted her eyes.

"What is so hard to understand," she responds, still somewhat groggy but now standing upright. "It is because of their state that they huddle together, a seeking of affirmation and a reminder that they are not alone, that all is not lost. If you are the creator as they say, I would have thought you of any would be capable to understand."

She finally opens her third eye observing the entirety of the space around her, every flow of energy and fluctuations of the veil. She waits calmly, not ready to assault someone on a whim regardless the reactions of the people who just stormed out, it was a courtesy, a benefit of the doubt.

The sudden realization did the equivalent of several pints of black coffee and a good night's sleep. The Chosen Ones drew their reinvigorated attention towards the Creator of Grand Gaia. Of course there had to be a Creator to create Grand Gaia, only a being of their stature can truly bring a world to existence. But never, in their lives' knowledge of gods, have the Chosen Few heard of a Creator named Maxwell. The awakened heroes unsheathed their weaponry, with one exception pulling out a cream pie.
"Funny thing," Adam said, mainly to the group. "The Creators we know are all glowy and stuff. They don't look exactly... mortal."
"Maybe because that's not her final form," muttered Max, crackling his knuckles, his robotic arm producing a few small clangs.
"Guys," Fancy said, a tad more terrified than his comrades. "When he mentioned a god, he didn't say it was a Creator. This is too much for us, admit it! I'd rather eat my hair!"
"Shut up and get ready for a poundin', then," snapped Max.

Maxwell looked at the group in front of her, they all looked prepared to fight with the sole exception of one. The one that did not look eager to fight gave an explanation as to why mortals would gather together under such circumstances. "Interesting explanation...gathering together to seek comfort with others." She spoke nodding to herself.

"That God may be a creator but all Gods can still die! There's seven of us! All with a good amount of power! Even with her power we will destroy that God!" Witha warcry Vargas charged first sword by his side eager to strike. Maxwell conjured a spear and blocked his strike with the resonating power sending chairs and tables flying. "Either you all are brave or foolish enough to challenge a God...you might just do, if I can't gather the six then you seven will have to do..." Maxwell muttered as she used her power of creation to bend the space around them. The bar began to transform and change as they were all pulled into a void resembling space with stars twinkling around them they they were brought into a new space.

They appeared inside a castle, flags decorating the walls and long hallways jutting all around. Unleashing a blast of power, Maxwell sent Vargas skidding back to the group. "Come then mortals, if you do not defeat me I will destroy everyone and everything that remains in the lands of Agni. If you wish to stop me then use all you have to have a chance at defeating me." She then pointed at the group as she raised her spear and then threw it at them to signal the fight.

What was a moment of silence was suddenly broken as Vargas charged and attacked the one named Maxwell. Chuza just stared at them in their conflict, her eyes wide as they thrash about and then observed the collapse of reality before them. She understood everything that was going on, but not the why, why a creator would destroy something, or why a portion of herself desired it as well. There she stood, trying to understand the reason behind all this, as reality reconstructed itself as an expansive and hollow castle was formed around them.

"Why," she mutters, as Vargas was repelled, putting a hand out and catching him, a power within her just willing him to sudden yet gentle stop then steps in front, with the intent to beg for reason, but before she did, Maxwell had given an ultimatum and tossed her spear towards them, to which she responds to immediately by snapping her arms down evenly, split between the seam between the white and black, her cloak now erect, translucent and glowing with a ghostly blue light as it sways, resembling some blend between fairy and angel wings. She sways her, now four in number, arms in almost a dance as she twirls softly motioning towards the spear letting loose some subtle force in an effort to divert its course.
"What is the point of this, what is there to gain? Your actions... they confuse me, Creator Maxwell!"

With a sigh she completes her active form, her halo lights, orbited by rings of foreign lettering, and holds her white hands to her chest, a somber expression overtaking her face.

"I hate this... in all the fragments of possibility, yours is not the visage of the Hollowed... however... I will not allow you to take what little these people possess."

The Chosen Few watched in horrified fascination as the very fabric of reality bent around them, at one point the bar, then in the middle of deep space, and then within an anonymous castle. Gaining confidence from the Gaian hero's battlecry, their stances become more confident, preparing to either block or dodge whatever the Creator throws at them, or directly assaulting her. Vargas had a point: even if they never knew any being that could kill a Creator, other than a being like the Maelstrom, they would damn well find out for themselves. It was certain, this was the ultimate test of their spunk; they would either win and prove they could withstand anything, or die and.... actually, they don't know what would happen if they die, possibly come back to life or something, but they're willing to find out.
If Chuza is successful in diverting the spear's trajectory - if it was still coming for them, they would duck under it - the group would charge towards Maxwell, Max coming from the left, Fancy coming from the right and Adam Skelecoot, his sword glowing almost blindingly now, in the centre. Jack, still holding the pie, now considering the actual usefulness of said pie, would run into a position between Adam and Fancy's path and lob the pie at Maxwell's face, attempting the time-honoured Toon tradition of stunning his enemy. It wasn't as aggressive as he would have wanted, but then again, Toons weren't made for combat, so his main mode of action was attempting to disorientate his opponent, giving his comrades a chance of landing a strike on said opponent.
As for the others, Adam would attempt a leftward slash around the Creator's abdominal region, Max would attempt a right hook at her head, and Fancy would stab at her side with his giant pencil. Despite its appearance, the pencil is in fact as much as a weapon as a spear, it's carbon tip sharp enough to not just leave a mark on you, but also lacerate the mark as well. It would be pretty useless, and very brief for Fancy, if the pencil wasn't utilised for combat, otherwise it was just a pencil for ogres.

Vargas charged straight at the middle along with Adam, using his power his own energy began to empower everyone giving them a boost in power. Elyzia and Valfiel both split up with their scythes at the ready charging at the Gods flanks, Elyzia at the left and Valfiel at the right. For the spear that was sent, it would fly off course impacting the wall of the castle, imbedding itself into the wall.

Taking stock of the Enemy, Maxwell was hit in the face by a pie. Of course she saw the pie coming but was not interested in wasting time avoiding something that people eat. Of course she began to slowly wipe the pie from her face giving the group enough time to close the distance "Take this! Flare Ride!" Vargas yelled as he soared into the air then brought his sword down at her. Adam went for his leftward slash, Fancy stabbed her with his pencil. Elyzia and Valfiel went right behind her and swung their scythes in a wide arc.

The attacks all hit, Maxwell was hit by the surprisingly strong assault. Each attack made their mark, and with everyones combined assault they managed to injure the God but none did pierce her surprising sturdy form. However being surrounded she warped from her position a few yards away from the group, her dress with many marks and even some blood was dripping from her. However the cuts were not deep enough to cause any significant damage. The spear that she had thrown earlier appeared in her hands once again, however this time she pointed it in the air as the ceiling peeled away and was replaced by the void of space. "Crude but effective...You have power, however let us see if you can withstand my attacks." With that said, suddenly stars appeared in the vast void...but they were coming closer to them...

She stares at the battle unfolding, her jaw agape for a moment, uncertain as to what to say or do. They had began to fight with all they had, throwing everything at her at their disposal, even a... pie. And yet she stood there, mulling over why it all even has to be this way, and if anything she did from here would be of benefit to all. It is fear, that is what it is... fear that either way she acts, she causes irrevocable harm, that if she helps them she takes part in destroying a form of life, possibly dooming them to oblivion, and if not then she risks them a similar fate. She lowers and holds her head in shame of her indecisiveness. Then from inside a voice rings out.

"You are just a coward, so afraid of any wrong that you can't even do something right! I thought you said you were going to show her the door... well, look at you now! If you just do nothing... L...Laadan will never forgive you."

She snaps her head up and with elegant motion suddenly strikes together her black hands in a thunderous clap in front of her chest, then swings out her white arms, the impact sending out ripples in space outwards from her feet, like a drop in a pool of water. She raises her white arms as spacial fabric, amorphous like fluid spirals around her body, molding into a ball of warped space into her black hands then flings upwards like pizza dough, it forming into a barrier over the group of heroes from the coming onslaught of stars.

"Creator Maxwell, I am Chuza, a fragment of the Outsider, Owru! If I am a god or something else it matters not, I am not going to allow you to destroy what little the people of Grand Gaia have left, and I am not going to let you destroy the closest thing I have to friends, either!"

The overall damage done to the Creator was... dissappointing. Despite her appearance, Maxwell seems to be surprisingly endurant, the assault being reduced to small but bleeding cuts. As she deducted the overall attack, the ceiling of the castle began to sag, being replaced by the usual black void, which was filling up with stars. Funny, they seem to be growing...
the Chosen Few panicked briefly, sticking their weaponry up in hopes of blocking the celestial arrows speeding towards them. They then watched as an undefinable ball of space, like a heat-haze in a desert, was flung upwards and formed into a transparent umbrella, blocking the arriving stars.
With the impending doom averted, the Chosen Ones returned their attention to Maxwell. The Robloxian's mechanical arm began to flux, the metal plates expanding, revealing lines of blue light. A hole opened up in its palm, revealing a light, faint at first, then grew into the brightness of a hallway lightbulb. Max held the upper arm with his other hand, preparing to lift up the arm. What made his cyber arm a strong weapon was it's other mode, transforming it into a laser cannon, using it's mini-reactor to generate enough electricity to condense said power into a strong, plasmic beam, proven to melt through several layers of titanium. One would wonder, as pack as the arm was, how Max was able to even lift the damn thing. The simple answer was due to his superhuman strength that made him the muscles of the ragtag group.
Indicating his group to stand to the side, he would lift his arm like a cannon, the palm now glowing like the sun. The glow started to hum, and then a thick beam of incandescant plasma sped towards the Creator with the strength of, well, a large beam of plasma.

Maxwell watched as a massive barrier was formed above and as the stars impacted the barrier they exploded in different colours from red to blue. She then heard the strange figure introduce herself as Chuza, and she would not let her destroy what little the people of Grand Gaia has and the people here that were friends in a sense.

Was it friendship? Or sympathy for the mortals of the world? Regardless everyone has their own reasons to fight, even against all odds. Their bravery was admirable, in a foolish sort of way. Their power seemed to hold against her powers but she needed to know one thing, did they posses the strength to beat a God?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she smelled plasma forming in the air, she looked at the source and saw a cube like person with his arm cannon aimed right at her. She raised her spear in defence as the beam of plasma fired. The beam struck her speak however once she finished gauging she looked as her hand and noticed it had been burned a bit for the plasma residue. "Is this all you have to offer? Especially you Hero of Agni. I hate to inform you that the other five heroes from the war have already long since left this plane of existence during your absence. Perhaps this is all you posses? Maybe you truly were weaker than that father of yours. And to think you wanted to one day surpass him." Maxwell then pointed at the group still unamused.

Vargas looked liked he was fuming with rage, after hearing what that God he was pissed off and angry. "What did you say!? Oh that is it! I am going to end your existance to avenge them then!" Vargas shouted as he began to focus an immense amount of power, a shocking amount of power that saw Maxwell step back a bit, with a small smile on her face.

Of course she was not going to stand idly by and do nothing, she raised her hand forward and unleashed a constant wave of energy which would constantly sap their life force.

Chuza stood there watching this play unfold before her, watching as Maxwell played upon the emotions of Vargas. Whether it was true or not, she did not know, but it was clear she had some plan in inciting his fury. Perhaps it was a ploy to let his emotions make him sloppy, how fiendish if that was the case, but not strategically unsound at the same time. No, she thinks chastising herself, it is still wrong.

Soon she started to feel strange, as if something were being taken from her. She did not possess a life force like any normal creature, but she is composed entirely of some form of it. The spell thus has a far more visual impact as strands of her very being begin to shed off from her, like she were slowly unraveling. She held out her hands, sifting the threads through her fingers, vision blurring as it took her a moment to grasp it. With a gasp she tugs at her ghostly threads and begins to wrap it into a soft blue ball of wispy light, tendrils of thread flowing off from it growing more unstable the longer it went on.

"Stop this, Creator Maxwell, this path will bring nothing good for any of us," she pleads, hugging tightly onto the yarn ball formed of her life threads. She was once again given no other choice than to act, she crouched down, the space below her warping downwards creating a bowl within space itself before letting the built up pressure launching herself at such velocity that her body now resembling a living comet along with the tail. As she grows close, she suddenly stops, a halo-like ring ripples through space from her creating a strange hollow ringing sound in the air, and she thrusts the wisp ball at Maxwell causing it to implode, violently causing a chain reaction that crashes the warped space outward against her creating a loud otherworldly groan as the dimensional fabric was placed under strain.

Chuza would not excape unfazed by this desperate act either, the gateway in her chest cracking at the edges as the threads were violently ripped from her, an ominous light now bleeding from the fissures causing her to wince. She felt for the first time a true physical sensation of pain, but instead of fear, she only smiles.

"Strange, I always imagined I would be hollow inside..."