To a casual observer, he appeared to be a man of purpose, as he tread forward into the mountains. However, some might wonder how a man with hair so gray could manage a journey so deep into northern Greece, with no guide to speak of.

But there was no one to wonder, for the man trod upon ground far from the eyes of any civilization. And as he tread forth, the surroundings became less and less recognizable. Surely, no American traveler could find his way home again.

But the man did not waver as he continued, drawing upon some inner direction...some form of confidence in the path he had chosen.

The man ascended the side of a mountain, taking guidance only from the staff in his hand. The climb was long, lasting several hours, but still he pressed on, to whatever his final destination might be.

Upon the top of the mountain, the man finally paused, to catch his breath. Only then he did glance about, to take in his surroundings more fully. Slowly, he rubbed his beard, lost in thought.

Gently, the man unfastened the bandanna from around his neck, and tied it over his eyes. Then, a madness seemed to cover him, as he walked about the top of the mountain, waving his staff all around. Within his mind, the man made certain his steps kept him from going over the side.

After a steady hour of aimless wandering, the man finally undid his blindfold, and once more took in the sun.

But he was not defeated. The man removed his backpack, and prepared a campsite for himself. Occasionally, he would take up a stone, and throw it into the wild. But whatever response he expected, it did not arrive.

Beyond the perception of any normal man, there dwells a city upon the mountains of Greece-- a city populated by a race of immortals, known to people of ancient times as gods.

But they are not godly-- merely Eternal.

At one time, the capital city of Olympia bore over a thousand immortals within its walls.

Today, it bears but two.

Ikaris strode the streets of Olympia alone, but with purpose. With most of the Eternals' number on a journey through the cosmos in the form of a Uni-Mind, the number of Eternals who had chosen to remain in Olympia had dropped, drastically.

In all, less than two dozen Eternals lived in all of the Earth, and of that number, only two remained. Ikaris, because as the ruler of theEternals-- their Prime Eternal-- he was obligated to remain in case of crisis. The other, Argos, a mere technician charged with maintaining the city's electronic systems.

It was to Argos that Ikaris was now striding to meet. He did not employ much alacrity or enthusiasm in his task, for, having lived over 20,000 years, there was little in truth that could excite him. Ikaris was a warrior by nature, and the role of governor to a ghost town was not to his liking. In truth, he would sooner have been in battle, so as to escape the monotony of normal life.

Ikaris arrived at the Chambers of Power, deep below Olympia, where Argos' monitor lay.

"Hail, Argos." He spoke.

Argos stood up from his chair and took upon an attentive stance. "Hail, Sovereign."

"How is our guest?" Ikaris inquired.

"He still lies outside our walls, O Great One. He cannot see us because of our alignment with the Earth's dimension-- but he remains."

"Three days." Ikaris murmured. "For three days, he has lain outside our city. And I suppose," he addressed Argos, "that his routine has not changed?"

"It has not." Argos answered. "Every day, he dons the blindfold, and wanders about the mountaintop. He has not ceased hurling objects at random either."

"He knows we are here." Ikaris said, sadly. "He knows we are here, and is waiting for the proof."

"Perhaps." Argos replied. "But he cannot find us. My scans reveal that he only bears enough provisions to last two weeks. When his resources run dry, he shall depart."

"Two weeks. And suppose his conviction is so strong that he does not regard his own life as worth saving? Suppose he starves himself at our door?" Ikaris asked.

"What does it matter, O Prime One? He is mortal. He cannot last more than a month. And what is a month to us?"

"Indeed." Ikaris replied quietly. "What is a month? Or even a life?" Ikaris was silent for a moment. "Thank you, Argos." he then said, and departed the Chambers.

In all, nine days had now passed since the man had first arrived. Each day, Ikaris asked Argos what the man had done, and each day, Argos made the same reply.

Alone in the Temple of Command, Ikaris fell into melancholy.

"Less than a week. In less than a week, he will run short of supplies, and then he shall surely depart. But what if he returns? Suppose he draws this confrontation out across decades? Suppose he dies? Suppose his children continue this task? How are we to deal with them?"

"Argos is young. He has not lived a tenth as long as I. He is still of the belief that an immortal can outlast his enemies. But I know better. The enemies that pursue you live on even after death! After 5 millennia, I still see the face of Kanak. His bones are dust by now, but he has not disappeared. I see him in the face of every Deviant I battle...in every nightmare...I even saw him in my own cousin, once."

"I...cannot face this crisis alone. But there is only one other I could turn to for support, one older than I. By the Space Gods, I wish I had not claimed the mantle of Prime Eternal. I cannot bear the solitude...I still do not possess the wisdom."

"And yet, great Zuras was far younger than I when he first took this office, and he was the greatest ruler we ever had..."

Ikaris rose from his lonely throne, and stood beside a window. He looked out towards the Hall of Triumph, where statues of fallen Eternals stood, the only remembrance to their passing. With his keen vision, Ikaris could see Zuras' statue among the few others...Tulayn...Virako...Druig...

"How sad to note that men of stone out-number men-of-flesh in this city. But I have already taken steps to change this."

He turned away from the window.

"I must not allow myself to fall prey to the judgement of others. What should I care what they might say about me when I am gone? All that matters is now...I must focus on the present...on the battle that taxes me each day. I cannot win this struggle by brawn, only through stamina. And I shall win. For myself."

Ikaris departed the Temple.

Atop the mountain, the man sat by his camp, and wrote in his journal:

"Day Nine: Still no response. I wonder what they think of me now. Unless I presume too far, and am so far beneath their notice that they are oblivious to my presence, I am certain they have seen me, and ascertained much of what I know. Further, I may also have been mentally scanned, as this is apparently within their power. I have not taken any defense against this action, believing that I should demonstrate my honesty to them. Do they know how far I am willing to go? Will this change their path? My path cannot be altered. I am determined to-"

The man looked up. A tall, blond figure stood before him, garbed in a suit of red and blue armor.

Without a second thought, the man arose, and offered his hand. "Lewis Conrad." he said.

Ikaris took his hand. "Ikaris."

"Ah, yes, I thought so. You also call yourself 'Ike Harris', am I right?" Conrad inquired.

"You know more than most." Ikaris observed. "Why have you come here?"

"Aren't you interested in hearing how I learnt of you?" Conrad asked. "Your people aren't known to the public at large."

"I am not." Ikaris replied. "Answer my question."

"Well, I'm an author, y'see. Ever read, 'Taboo, the Thing in the Murky Swamp'?" He asked.

Ikaris shook his head.

"Too bad. It was my best seller. See, I write adventure stories. My audience is North American, so I like to offer the 'exotic' trappings of other lands. Not an easy field of writing, let me tell you!"

"Why is that?" Ikaris asked.

"The Earth is boring." Conrad answered. "People think they got it all figured out. And even if they don't, they'd never admit to it. Nah, they want fantasy in their stories, like the myths of old. It's always been more interesting to hear a shaman's version of the Earth's creation than that of a scientist."

"So you sought out my people...to write about us?" Ikaris asked.

"Well, I was thinking it'd give me some concepts to work with. This is a pretty fantastic world we live in, what with the super-heroes, aliens, mutants, robots, and all-- but I think I can find an audience for your people-- the Eternals. I mean, the classic struggle between the perfect immortals and horrible monsters...it's classic!"

"Our stories are not for sale." Ikaris replied bitterly.

"You'd sooner people didn't know about you?" Conrad asked.

"We have no qualms with telling others our history. It is they who choose to disbelieve in us." Ikaris answered.

"Ah, the spurned gods. And that, y'see, is why you'd make perfect fiction. They won't take your people as fact? Fine, we'll sell you as fiction. Use different names and stuff-- just like an episode of 'Dragnet'." He paused for a moment. "Uh, that's a television show..."

"I've seen it." Ikaris replied.

"So...what can you share?" Conrad asked.

"My city." Ikaris answered. "Come live in Olympia with my people. When one month has passed, then we shall discuss your stories."

"Wow, that...that's an offer I cannot refuse! I gladly accept! But, uh, why are you being so kind?"

Ikaris did not respond.

Far from the scenic Greek mountains, deep below the Pacific Ocean, lies Lemuria, capital of the Deviant empire. While Olympia's population has ebbed out, Lemuria's has exploded throughout the kingdom. And as the population explodes, so to do armed conflicts.

But Lemuria is not the focus this day. Instead, beneath New York City, lies the underground kingdom of Lyonesse, a Deviant empire that has existed parallel to Lemuria for thousands of centuries.

Lyonesse has recently undergone a disastrous civil war and coup, resulting in massive loss of life. But now, the dust is beginning to settle, and Khult, former vizier to the previous ruler Tantalus, has taken up the pieces.

In his laboratories within Lyonesse, Khult sifted through his city's computer network, updating his security sweeps. Though Khult was a tall man, his dark purple skin tone allowed him to blend into the dark shadows of the room- just as he had hidden his true motives from Tantalus, until, with one strike, he had claimed the throne.

"Lord Khult?" Toxin called. "You have a visitor."

Khult turned from his work towards the misshapen Deviant. "Why was I not informed sooner? Who has been negligent? How came this intruder to our kingdom, toad?"

"We do not know, Lord Khult." Toxin replied. "We are investigating."

"His name?" Khult asked impatiently.

"Lord Ghaur of Lemuria."

Khult laughed. "Well, then there is no mystery to his intrusion. Send him in."

Ghaur strode into Khult's laboratory. Though Khult was always a tall, gaunt figure, Ghaur surpassed him in height. An unsettling item.

"Greetings from Lemuria, Lord Khult." Ghaur rasped.

"Welcome to Lyonesse, Lord Ghaur." Khult replied. "You have not visited these halls for 10 years, when my predecessor was still in power."

"Yes, your predecessor."

"May I presume your business today is the same as it was ten years before?"

"You have a sharp mind." Ghaur answered, "It is most becoming in the midst of the dullards your kingdom produces."

"Aye, not since the Family of Toads has one city been so plagued."

Ghaur laughed. "Since you know my business, what is your answer?"

"These are chaotic times for Lyonesse." Khult replied. "An alliance with Lemuria would go a long way to restoring order. However, there is the matter of religious differences."

"Ah yes, the Dreaming Celestial. Your predecessor did not believe in the worship of any entity, save himself."

Khult nodded. "I am also curious how you intend to divide power in your kingdom. The people of Lemuria were glad to have you as their ruler, after the horrors under Brother Visara. But now, you are subject to complacency, a dangerous foe. How long do you suppose that your subjects will accept a priest as their king?"

"I have taken steps to correct this." Ghaur assured him. "My intent is that our alliance would be more of a pact than an annexation. We aid you, you aid us. I rule Lemuria, you rule Lyonesse."

"You are being too forward." Khult remarked. "You're obviously not telling me the whole truth."

Ghaur grinned. "You know full well that I do not take upon any task, unless what I receive in return far outweighs the effort."

"As do I. What do you have to offer me?"

"You desire a gesture of good will-- to seal our pact?"

"I demand one!"

"The Underground Legion. They have stuck at you and your predecessor for ages. I shall pluck them for you."

Khult shook his head. "Easily said, not easily done."

"It shall be done. All I ask in return is that Lemuria be allowed to take custody of them following their defeat."

Khult was silent for a moment. "I have one condition," he said.

"Which is?"

"My own grandson Lucian is among their number."

"You do not wish him killed?"

"Precisely."

"Is that all?" Ghaur asked.

"The Legion has two of my agents in their custody. If they can be returned, I will be pleased. If not..."

"...Expendable losses."

"Once more, precisely."

"Then we have an agreement."

"We do. I propose we shake."

Khult took Ghaur's hand. The intense heat produced through Ghaur's skin would have made even the strongest Deviant start. But Khult did not.

Ghaur withdrew his hand. "I shall call upon you again in one week."

"One week."

Ghaur departed the laboratory, smiling. The first die was cast.