Nanahuatzin then touched Epona’s face, an act that repulsed her because his hand was covered in sores and warts. However, with this, the god healed the equine goddess’s injured eye. In exchange, even more sores emanated from the body of the god of diseases.
“I can heal someone from grave wounds in exchange for my own health,” Nanahuatzin said.
Epona then grew somber.
“It isn’t fair that you have to suffer for us,” she replied.
But she immediately fell silent when she saw the god scream in pleasure as his new wounds emerged. His cries sounded as if he were having an orgasm.
“Thank meow for healing Epona’s eye. Her purretty face would’ve lost its beauty if she stayed one-eyed,” Freyja said to Nanahuatzin.
“Bah, don’t worry,” Epona replied. “Either way, I already have to carry a huge scar.”
“Think about Rodrigo, meow,” Freyja said, fortunately beginning to recover thanks to her ichor reserve.
Epona blushed and shook her head.
“That doesn’t worry him,” she said, embarrassed.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I must go finish off the rest of Mayáhuel’s clones,” Nanahuatzin said as he extended his hand to them in farewell.
“I… thank you,” Epona replied.
“Thank Xólotl, my lord,” the Chichimeca god replied. Then he departed, floating into the sky.
Epona, who had indeed lost all her ichor in the fight, felt an enormous exhaustion and almost fell backward, but Freyja held her up.
“You can’t give up yet, Epona. The fight’s only just started,” the Norse goddess said.
“That’s true. We don’t even know the whereabouts of the other three gods who were protecting the enclosure,” Epona replied, ashamed.
Freyja then made a jar of chocolatl appear and gave it to the equine goddess to drink. Epona immediately recovered her energy.
“How much of that do we have left?” Epona asked.
“Two jars total, just enough to heal everyone, meow,” the Norse goddess said, embarrassed.
“And that was the third one, the one Loki partially consumed in the Trial of the Thirteen Heavens, right?” the Celtic goddess asked.
Freyja nodded.
“The fight has barely begun, and we already have a shortage of medicine,” Epona said gloomily.
“Don’t think about that,” Freyja said. “Besides, we still have Tul’s meowdicine.”
At that moment, Epona quickly rose from Freyja’s arms.
“What’s wrong, meow?” the Norse goddess asked, confused.
“Freyja, give medicine to everyone. I’m going to look for Tul,” the equine goddess said, startled.
“All right, meow,” Freyja replied.
Epona then made an enormous leap and flew toward where Susanoo had gone with the rabbit goddess.
“I felt pressure in my chest. I feel like someone died,” Epona thought. “Was it my contract with the Beyond that allowed me to feel this hunch?”
Meanwhile, Nanahuatzin invoked his plague of locusts, which decimated the Mayáhuel clones attacking Susanoo and Tul. However, they had been protected by a kind of room made of smoke that Mixcóatl had invoked. Even so, both gods had been knocked unconscious.
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Mixcóatl was gravely wounded from protecting the two gods from the attacks of Mayáhuel’s clones, but he was still standing.
“Mixcóatl, I did not expect to see you here,” Nanahuatzin said as he approached the god of Xicallanca.
“Nor I you, Nanahuatzin. I thought you had withdrawn to the northern regions of Anáhuac, together with Xólotl,” Mixcóatl replied.
“My lord Xólotl has come to support these kids because of his connection to the green-eyed young man,” the god of pestilence said.
Mixcóatl fell silent with a pained expression, but quickly regained himself.
“I wanted to see him too, but it seems he is not here,” he said.
But just as the locusts had disappeared, a sword covered in spikes pierced Nanahuatzin’s chest. He lost consciousness immediately, filling his mask with blood from within.
“Damn it, you killed all my clones, you sick son of a bitch,” a woman’s voice was heard behind Nanahuatzin.
It was Mayáhuel, the real one, who had pierced the god’s chest with her saw-like hand.
The goddess’s arm began filling with sores and warts, but she quickly tore it off and grew another one, avoiding infection from the Chichimeca god’s plague.
“Good. Without that idiot conscious, you will not be able to stop me again,” Mayáhuel said to Mixcóatl, who was preparing to face her.
“I already told you, old man. Your era is over. Retire,” the Chichimeca goddess said as she made seeds appear from her body and float in the air.
Mixcóatl then pointed at Mayáhuel with the silver serpent coiled around his right arm.
“Is that a Xiuhcóatl?” Mayáhuel asked.
“Indeed, and you know how powerful this serpent is,” the Xicallanca god said.
Mayáhuel began to laugh.
“Our lord, Huitzilopochtli, possesses one just like it, and I can feel that his is thousands of times more powerful than yours,” the goddess replied. “In fact, I see that yours is only a poor imitation of my lord’s weapon.”
But without warning, Mixcóatl fired a ball of smoke that took the shape of a serpent. It coiled around Mayáhuel and began crushing her.
“This is my technique: Popokoatl,” Mixcóatl said. “This smoke serpent will not release you until it crushes every bone in your body.”
But then Mayáhuel began laughing, and immediately afterward, making agave leaves appear from her body, she tore the serpent apart. It dispersed again like vapor.
“Is that all, old man?” the Chichimeca goddess asked triumphantly.
Then Mayáhuel raised her hand toward the sky, and the seeds began dispersing into the air again when, suddenly, Epona appeared behind the goddess and struck her back with an extremely powerful kick. Mayáhuel’s spine cracked like a dry branch, and the goddess, completely folded like paper, fell to the ground.
Mixcóatl quickly caught the seeds in his smoke cloud and crushed them, destroying the threat.
“I thank you, miss,” the Xicallanca god said to the equine goddess.
“Who are you?” Epona asked in surprise.
“I am an ally. Look,” Mixcóatl said.
Then he opened the smoke box where he had been protecting Susanoo and Tul, both of whom had been knocked unconscious.
“They rescued us together with Ixchel, your friend’s teacher,” Mixcóatl said.
Epona thanked him, then quickly took Tul and began shaking her to wake her up, but the goddess had been badly wounded by Mayáhuel’s attacks.
“I apologize. I do not have healing abilities,” Mixcóatl said. “I could only protect their bodies from more attacks by that goddess.”
“And I only have abilities to heal humans and animals,” Epona said, disappointed. “She is really our healer.”
But right at that moment, Epona realized that Mayáhuel had regained consciousness and was about to throw seeds onto the ground, which was covered in sap and looked greenish.
Like a comet, Epona fell upon Mayáhuel, pinning her to the ground with a very powerful kick.
“It is useless, foreign goddess,” Mayáhuel said, still badly wounded, yet rising after the impact of Epona’s blow. “When my seeds bloom, all of you will die.”
“No,” Epona said. “Every flower needs a root to live… and you are the root.”
Hundreds of agaves grew around Epona, and more Mayáhuel clones emanated from within them. But the Celtic goddess remained still and confident.
“You say you’ll kill me? Do not make me laugh!” Mayáhuel shouted furiously as she tried to hide among the clones she had created.
Epona then took the form of a reaper and made her great scythe appear, just as dozens of Mayáhuels threw themselves at her with bodies full of spikes, trying to wound the goddess. But Epona hurled her scythe at full speed, slicing through several clones as it moved.
The scythe finished its path by embedding itself in the chest of one Mayáhuel. She vomited blood and froze in place.
“I hit the mark, didn’t I?” Epona asked with a wicked smile.
Mayáhuel’s clones melted as if they were green slime, while Mayáhuel fell backward and began losing consciousness.
“How… were you able to find me… among my clones?” the goddess asked, bewildered.
“I have very good eyesight,” Epona said. “After all, we horses tend to be very focused when we move.”
Mayáhuel fell to the ground and lost consciousness. Epona then pulled her scythe from the goddess’s chest.
“You said that man’s time had already passed, right?” Epona asked as she took her scythe and turned her back to the goddess. “Then yours never existed.”