Material Realm, Cosmos.
In the pitch-black expanse of space, within a grotesquely deformed galaxy altered by divine power and made drastically unlike before, the war of the gods raged on—driving ever further into the unknown… and into even grander scales.
With the continued influx of filthy divine blood, the power of fleshly matter kept growing throughout the cosmos. The structure of each star and every galaxy had undergone cataclysmic change. The countless stars, which once made up over 99% of the galactic mass, were rapidly shrinking—becoming mere satellites to their former planets. Each galaxy now revolved around a swollen, bloated matter-body as its center, and the light of the stars across the cosmos dimmed, rendering the entire sky murky and dull.
Yet even so, the starlight did not vanish completely. Though faint and barely noticeable against the black curtain of space, the light endured—it had not been extinguished.
At this very moment, as if responding to some silent call, those dim stars began to abandon their eternal positions in the night sky. They became shooting stars, streaking faint lines across the dark canvas.
As time subtly ticked forward, those dim lines brightened and thickened. The streaking meteors that covered the night sky gradually transformed into comets, their luminous heads trailing radiant tails that burst into increasingly dazzling brilliance.
The stars of space were lighting up again. But was this because they had regained their radiance? No—it was because they were drawing closer. The countless stars of the cosmos were all moving toward a single destination: the origin of this galactic distortion.
Responding to the Radiance Lord’s summons, the shrunken stars of each galaxy left their orbits, leaping through space toward that calling point. And in the process, their forms underwent radical changes—from tangible burning stars to streams of pure golden light.
At the origin of this distortion—at the center of the material universe—a vast Flesh Earth, larger than even any sun, hovered serenely in the void. It was locked in conflict with its radiant satellite known as the sun, and the latter was clearly at a disadvantage.
Blood, plague-mist, tentacles, black maws—these tides of filth born of degenerate divinity surged continuously from the land of flesh, sweeping upward to engulf the blazing sun, seeking to drag it down into the putrid mire of flesh and corruption. But the sun radiated purifying light in turn, evaporating and sanctifying the approaching tides of filth, striving to ignite the land of flesh itself. Yet the fire it kindled was quickly smothered by the gushing blood.
The sun could not burn the land of flesh, and the tides of corruption could not yet fully swallow the radiant sun. It was a deadlock—but one that would not last long. For within the filthy tide, new monsters had begun to emerge.
They were crystalline and translucent, like massive, levitating eyeballs. These creatures—the Light-Devouring Eyes—were divine aberrations birthed from the very light of the Flesh Earth. As they shone, they absorbed the sun’s divine brilliance with terrifying efficiency.
These Light-Devouring Eyes, rapidly multiplying within the tides of filth, severely weakened the sun’s purifying power—allowing the corrupted tide to push ever closer to the blazing sun. Soon, it seemed, the sun would be entirely engulfed… smothered… and dragged into the land of flesh.
Just as the sun was being dimmed beneath the furious surge of corruption, the starlight from beyond finally arrived.
From across the galaxies, thick beams of light leapt through space—countless stars turned comets, plunging into the origin point of this cosmic anomaly from all directions.
These stellar beams surged toward the sun, toward the Solar Chariot that soared above the land of flesh. They converged, one after another, merging into it.
Radiance met radiance. Light merged with light. With each inflow of starlight, the Solar Chariot’s glow expanded explosively. The sun formed by its light swelled rapidly, bursting with even more blinding and furious purifying brilliance—scouring away the encroaching tides of filth. Even the Light-Devouring Eyes, newly born from the Flesh Earth, could not withstand this overwhelming blaze and were reduced to ash.
Absorbing the light of other stars from across the cosmos, the sun born of the Solar Chariot swelled to match the land of flesh in size—returning to what a true “sun” should be. Its luminosity far exceeded its former self, casting dazzling rays across not only the galaxy but the far reaches of the universe beyond.
As the sun's power surged, the Flesh Earth could no longer withstand its sacred blaze. Its surface erupted in flames—boiling blood failed to douse the golden-white fire. Amid the blazing fireball’s convulsions, the Flesh Earth let out an agonized, shrill scream that echoed through the cosmos.
From the glorious sunwheel, atop the Solar Chariot, the God of Lantern Phaethon solemnly gazed upon the writhing filth and tightly gripped his radiant spear. In a low murmur, he spoke.
“Solstice… Zenith…”
With that chant, Phaethon cracked his reins. The blazing solar steeds neighed and galloped forward, their hooves stomping through space, drawing the Solar Chariot into a headlong charge.
The solar steeds surged forth, the spear of light aimed ahead—Phaethon drove his chariot straight toward the incarnation of the Mother of Chalice. A grand, resplendent sun plummeted directly toward the massive Flesh Earth.
And then—searing fire consumed the flesh.
The sunwheel engulfed the Flesh Earth and exploded with apocalyptic fury, casting a radiance that defied description into the darkness of space.
This light surpassed the limits of speed, flooding every corner of the cosmos in an instant—immersing all in dazzling daylight. It was the zenith of daylight for the entire material universe.
Even those distant star systems that had long lost their suns were illuminated. Cold, rocky worlds were ignited by the distant brilliance; planets melted, transforming into molten, blazing lava worlds.
The great daylight lasted but a moment—then the blazing light that had filled all space quickly dimmed.
As the overwhelming brilliance faded and darkness returned to the cosmos, the origin point of the explosion—this anomalous galaxy—was now purged of filth.
In the void, the Solar Chariot still remained. Though the sun-steeds it drew had dimmed slightly, they still shone with glorious brilliance. The massive, corrupted land of flesh had vanished entirely. No plague mist, no blood, no tentacles or black maws, no degenerate spawn—nothing remained. All had been wholly obliterated by the purifying light.
“It’s gone… All of it… Can it truly be cleansed so completely…?”
Phaethon murmured in astonishment, gazing at the empty scene before him.
But from afar, Dorothy called out urgently.
“No! It’s far from over! That thing… it’s still here…”
Her voice was grave. And with her words, the world around them began to change once more.
Threads of blood—one after another—manifested in the black void, spreading rapidly in all directions. Space began to ripple and pulse, and from within came rhythmic sounds.
Thump… thump… thump… thump…
That sound—was a heartbeat. Through the thinning veil of space, crimson seeped and pulsed, as if hidden behind the boundaries were countless hearts, beating fiercely… Or perhaps… that was indeed the case.
The rapidly spreading blood threads reached every corner of the universe. Thunderous heartbeats, louder than any storm, resounded throughout the cosmos.
Eyes, noses, mouths, ears—deformed and grotesque sensory organs began to grow and appear, larger than planets, embedded across the material realm. They watched—observing all.
“This is… an invasion from beyond the realms?”
Dorothy’s expression darkened. Phaethon raised his gaze, surveying the cosmos. His divine eyes—those of Lantern—beheld both the universe and what lay beyond. And in that instant, he froze.
“The universe… it has slipped into Her domain… She has rewritten everything…”
Phaethon finally realized: from some unknown point, the Mother of Chalice’s leaking power had not merely flooded the material realm. To accelerate Her emergence, She had—once her power reached a threshold—begun to flow into other realms as well, infusing them with Her essence.
What Phaethon’s earlier strike destroyed was only the portion of Her that had entered this realm.
Now, throughout every realm, all parts of the Blood Chalice’s power were converging—gathering rapidly outside the material realm. The Main God’s expanding divinity granted her immense authority, allowing her once again to alter the cosmic paradigm.
Phaethon looked outward. He saw that the material realm was no longer infinite. It had become a cosmic sphere—contained within a far larger, more illusory space.
Beneath this cosmic sphere was a towering mountain, as tall as a spire. The entire material realm rested atop this mountain peak. The mountain, larger than the universe itself, extended downward to a vast plate. Beneath the plate stood six colossal elephants, even larger than the dish, arranged in a circle with their backs pressed together, lifting the world.
And beneath those six elephants… was a gargantuan turtle, greater than them all, bearing them upon its mighty shell—and beneath the turtle… coiled an immense serpent.
This colossal serpent, even larger than the great turtle, was coiled in a circle, its coiled body bearing the turtle and everything atop it. Its head and tail extended upward from the coil in an arc, rising all the way to the mountain peak. Above the cosmic sphere, the serpent bit its own tail—forming a perfect ring.
“So this is… the new cosmos sculpted by the Blood Chalice? Such a retro concept…”
Gazing upon the scene beyond the material universe, Dorothy couldn’t help but mutter in awe. The Mother of Chalice had once again reshaped the cosmological view—this time on an even grander, more absurd scale. Previously, it had only shifted from a heliocentric to a geocentric model… but now, the concept had diverged completely from stars or galaxies—one that aligned far more closely with Her very nature.
In countless past cycles of reincarnation, the form of the universe varied greatly depending on which god held dominion. Spherical heavens and flat earths… World Trees… Infinite planes… World bubbles… and now, this Tower of Tortoise and Elephant. It was once the cosmic shape presided over by the god of Chalice in a previous cycle—and the Mother of Chalice had now manifested it again.
Currently, the Tortoise-Elephant Tower remained in its normal form—but the divine power that created it had long since fallen. That corruption was swiftly beginning to spread through the entire structure.
Ominous threads of blood appeared, rapidly spreading across the titanic beasts that bore the world. As if struck by a terrible disease, the massive elephants, turtle, and serpent bulged with throbbing veins and festering boils. Amid their howls of agony, crimson strands wrapped over their bodies. When the blood threads dispersed, the beasts that once upheld the world had entirely transformed.
The six great elephants had shrunk and warped—growing sharp fangs and black fur, turning into six enormous, pitch-black direwolves.
Beneath the wolves’ claws, the turtle’s sturdy shell softened, its heavy plates morphing into plump, bloated maggots. These maggots clustered together, forming the grotesque shape of a winged abomination.
And beneath the squirming maggots, the coiled serpent was now soaked in blood—its dark gray hue turning crimson. Its scales vanished, and its body became smooth, now resembling an immense intestinal organ rather than a snake.
Beneath that intestinal serpent, something else appeared—a creature. It bore a body vaguely resembling that of a human woman, plump and entirely crimson, with breast-like growths hanging from all parts of its upper body. It had no hair, no features, and lay belly-up in the void. The intestinal serpent supported everything atop it, coiled around the monster’s swollen abdomen.
Then, the monster’s belly turned swamp-like, birthing countless umbilical cord-like tentacles, coiling upward to entangle the now-corrupted Tortoise-Elephant Tower. As the swampy belly sank downward, the fallen Tower of Beasts was being dragged into the monster’s womb.
At the same time, the void lit up with an increasing number of flickering lights. From within them flew countless cosmic spheres—each one sticking to the mountain and merging with it. More and more kept arriving. These were other realms—other inner realms. Attracted by the corrupted Tortoise-Elephant Tower, they were reshaping themselves to conform, flying in to merge with it—until they became one and were devoured by the Mother of Chalice.
The Blood Chalice longed to return all things to its own belly—to protect them eternally. If possible… She would reach out gently, without inflicting direct harm, and draw everything into Herself… just like now.
“It’s the Blood Chalice… the Mother of Chalice… She’s manifesting outside the material realm—trying to draw the entire world into Her belly…”
“So this… this is the true power of a Main God? It’s so… vast… so utterly invincible…”
Witnessing the Mother of Chalice beyond the material cosmos, Phaethon murmured in a daze. For the first time, despair crept into his expression. Even now, despite standing on the verge of becoming a Main God himself, he could feel an overwhelming helplessness in the presence of a true god’s might.
“This is no time for awe. If we get dragged in, it’s over. We have to do something!”
On the opposite end of the void galaxy, Dorothy’s tone was calm yet firm.
The current situation was that the Mother of Chalice had transformed the Tortoise-Elephant Tower into a fallen form, drawing in all domains and inner realms alike. Then, by swallowing the tower, She aimed to absorb all realms into Her belly. The material realm wasn’t the only one at risk—escaping to other realms would change nothing. There was no running. The only option left was resistance.
“You just repelled Her largest incarnation within the material realm, but you didn’t find my divinity fragment. She retreated with it—into the realms beyond—fusing with Her other incarnations there.
“What’s pulling us in now… is likely the greatest entity She’s manifested—the one closest to Her true form. My divinity fragment is within it… We still have to reclaim it…”
Even in the face of such overwhelming odds, Dorothy’s voice remained calm and composed. Listening to her, Phaethon paused for a moment, then solemnly replied.
“The Blood Chalice has swelled far beyond anything I can hope to purge. Even if we go all in, I doubt we could harm even a single limb…”
“We don’t need to destroy Her—we just need to pierce through Her! However small the hole—if we can penetrate, there’s hope!”
Dorothy’s voice sharpened with resolve. As she spoke, her expression grew more solemn.
“Now, let me take the lead. I’ll strike—support me with everything you’ve got.”
She spoke with seriousness to her blood-bound kin. After a brief pause, Phaethon nodded, agreeing to Dorothy’s plan. With his response, a faint smile curled at the corner of Dorothy’s lips.
“She’s here…”
As Dorothy whispered, the fabric of the material realm rippled. With a violent distortion, a colossal object the size of a planet burst into view.
A brass surface… rivers of molten metal… steel mountains… It was a massive Star of Steel—the Lord of Forge, Core of Order!
“Ah… finally changed locations. I hope that little one can hold out…”
Beverly muttered as she gazed at the dim cosmos around her. Not long ago, she and the newborn Butterfly God had been locked in a brutal fight within its domain, battling against the Gluttonous Wolf and the Abyssal Serpent. During the clash, Beverly cooperated with the young Butterfly God, using a subtle hypnotic influence to briefly confuse the Wolf and Serpent Gods—allowing her to escape the battlefield and rush to the material realm for this far more critical battle.
Back in the divine battlefield realm, the Wolf and Serpent Gods, sensing something amiss, were now in hot pursuit. The young Butterfly God was doing her best to delay them—but couldn’t hold out for long. Dorothy and her allies had to act fast.
“Let’s begin, Miss Neighbor.”
“Sure thing~ I’m all ears.”
With only a few words exchanged, Beverly sprang into action. The massive steel star’s surface began to churn with mechanical whirring. Amidst a series of rhythmic vibrations, the metallic titan began a full transformation.
Unlike before—when it shifted into weapons, turbines, and speakers—this time Beverly’s body was shrinking. The giant steel star was compressing rapidly in defiance of physical laws—becoming smaller and smaller.
“This is it…”
Meanwhile, on the other side, Phaethon too began to change. His armored form flared with light—then dissolved into a stream of radiance, merging into the Solar Chariot. The sun steeds linked to the chariot also transformed into pure light, streaming back along their chains to infuse the chariot.
Bathed in this blinding radiance, the holy chariot began to reshape itself. Its divine mechanisms shifted rapidly, shrinking just like the mechanical star.
At last, when the transformation concluded—
The mechanical star, once a planet, had compressed into a small object no longer than a meter. Upon close inspection, it was a rifle—bronze-colored, adorned with gears and embellishments, exuding a distinct steampunk flair.
And the Solar Chariot? It had transformed into something even smaller—a bullet. A golden bullet, etched with delicate carvings, sharp and tapered, bathed in a soft radiant glow.
Gun and bullet—both completed, they shot toward the same point.
Suspended in the void, Dorothy caught the rifle in her right hand and the bullet in her left. Swiftly, she loaded it—pulled the bolt—chambered the round.
Holding the weapon forged from the Lord of Forge herself, Dorothy aimed the barrel into the dark void—at nothing in particular. Then, purple light filled her eyes. Streaks of violet lightning surged along the bronze rifle—crackling, flashing.
Railgun—that was the skill Dorothy was now preparing to unleash. A power she once acquired from foreign knowledge of an “Academy City” in another world.
She had used it many times in the past to defeat powerful foes—but this time, to face an unprecedented enemy, she had pushed the skill to a whole new level.
Fueled by her own divine Thunder of Revelation, launched by the Lord of Forge’s engineered body as the rail, and firing a bullet made from nearly half the main body of the Lantern deity—three monumental divine forces from three domains had now come together.
All for one single shot. A singular, transcendent strike. A railgun of the gods.
With the support of the three divine powers, the railgun—originally just a standard offensive skill—now transcended its former concept entirely.
After completing her aim, Dorothy took a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.
At the moment of firing, there was no world-shattering shockwave. Only a single golden beam emerged from the muzzle—and in the very next instant, it had already crossed everything.
That ray, that thin beam of golden light fired from Dorothy’s rifle, pierced space and exited the material cosmos. It streaked downward, cutting through the entirety of the Tortoise-Elephant Tower and struck the foundation stone of the great pillar—the monster called "Mother." In the moment of that slender beam’s penetration, massive swathes of flesh vanished. What followed was a howling scream of agony—
“OOOOOHHHHHH!!!”
No trajectory. No path. It was as if space and distance had been utterly disregarded. The golden beam hit its target the very instant it was fired. Everything in between was simply erased.
It was like a sprinter reaching the finish line the moment they took their first step—like a high wall in the middle of the track being shattered through without resistance. Only a beginning and an end—no process in between.
This was the ultimate railgun, elevated by the power of three gods. It was no longer a mere physical technique—it had been sublimated into a concept, a law, a divine authority.
An authority that symbolized "Piercing," "Striking," and "Arrival."
A concept far beyond what a railgun was ever meant to be.
To fire was to hit. To hit was to arrive. Any obstacle between would be obliterated in an instant. Even if the Mother of Chalice had sensed it and tried to reinforce her defenses, she wouldn’t have had the chance. That was the power of the united strike launched by Dorothy and her companions.
The radiant bullet vaporized over half of the Mother of Chalice’s body. Amid her endless wailing and shrieking, it reached its intended target: floating in a patch of void was a crystalline gem—its surface glittering violet. The endless flesh that once surrounded it had been reduced to rising vapors.
At that moment, the golden bullet dissolved into pure light, extending forward to envelop the violet gem.
Now, transformed into the bullet itself, Phaethon had finally reached the divine gem. All that remained was to retrieve it. The Mother of Chalice had just suffered the full force of a triple-divine strike—her divinity in collapse. Though rapidly recovering, she was currently unable to stop Phaethon from taking the crystal away.
“Don’t even think about escaping!”
But just then, within the void surrounding the gem, a dense green plague mist suddenly surged forth—converging at breakneck speed upon the radiant light surrounding the crystal and engulfing it.
Though the Mother of Chalice was in recovery after being struck, her longtime collaborator—the Plague Vulture—had not been directly affected by the railgun. It moved in immediately to interfere with Phaethon's retrieval.
Had Phaethon been at full strength, he could’ve easily handled the Plague Vulture—but now he was completely different. Having become the bullet, he had expended nearly all of his divine power and was in a state of extreme weakness. He couldn’t resist the Vulture’s attack.
Nor were Dorothy or Beverly in any better shape. They too had poured nearly all of their divine strength into that one attack to wound the Mother of Chalice. Now, both were weakened and unable to assist Phaethon.
As the Plague Vulture’s disease spread into the light, the glow that was Phaethon visibly dimmed. His weakened self could not withstand the infection, and his condition worsened rapidly under the assault of the disease.
Entangled by the Plague Vulture’s contagion, even though Phaethon had seized the divine gem, he was unable to return with it. At this rate, once the Mother of Chalice recovered, he and the gem would both be swallowed, rendering everything they had done meaningless.
“This is bad… he’s not coming back…”
Still in her weaponized form, Beverly muttered grimly. Dorothy’s expression grew grave in response.
Just as Dorothy prepared to take action to rescue him, a sudden anomaly occurred.
In the dark and vast cosmos before her, a beam of golden light suddenly flared to life. From within it, Dorothy felt a familiar presence.
“…This is…”
In stunned silence, Dorothy watched as that sudden golden glow began to gather—shifting and reshaping into a human form. When the radiance faded, a figure stood before her.
It was an old man, dressed in a long white robe beneath a black outer garment. A black turban wrapped his head. He wore a long beard, and his eyes were gentle, his expression serene.
His clothing bore clear traits of modern religious attire from northern Ufiga—or, more precisely, the high clergy vestments of the Savior’s Advent Sect.
Yes—this man was a member of the Savior’s Advent Sect.
But what truly stunned Dorothy was not merely that this elder was part of that heretical sect—
—it was that his face was identical to the aged visage of Phaethon, the Pontiff of the Radiance Church.
“You’re…”
Dorothy’s face filled with confusion as she looked at the elder. The man stroked his beard and chuckled softly.
“Merely a trace of longing… and a bit of stubbornness. I never expected it would make a difference now.”
As he spoke, he turned toward the far distance—gazing through the veil between realms at the radiant light still struggling against plague.
“Come now… it’s time. Let us honor our pact. Let us become one again, my other half…
“With me as the core.”
As the elder spoke quietly, the light entangled in the plague mist suddenly dimmed—and then extinguished. Vanished entirely.
But more critically—when that light disappeared, so too did the violet divine gem it had held.
“What?!”
The Plague Vulture was stunned.
Back in the material realm, the elder suddenly radiated a soft golden glow. He turned back toward Dorothy, smiling kindly. Then, slowly, he opened his hand.
Resting peacefully on his palm—was the divine gem.
“Take it, young Arbiter… my blood kin.”
Hearing these words, Dorothy, who had been hesitant, now smiled in understanding. Taking the crystal, she replied.
“Ah… thank you, cousin. Or should I say… the Radiant Interpreter of the Radiance Church.”
That’s right—the elder before her was none other than the Radiant Interpreter, the one and only supreme leader of the Savior’s Advent Sect in all of Ufiga’s long history, regarded as the Great Heretic himself.
And at the same time, he was also… Phaethon. The very same person.
They were one and the same—split from a single origin.
“In the will of Radiance, there lies reverence and worship. These emotions can foster loyalty… but when taken to extremes, they easily breed distortion—opening cracks for corruption to seep in.
“I realized this long ago. That’s why I made this arrangement. I never thought… it would prove useful today.”
The elder—Phaethon’s other self—sighed as he handed the gem to Dorothy. His words revealed the deeper causes behind today’s events.
Since the beginning of the Fourth Epoch, the Radiance Church’s core function had been to serve as jailer to the sealed corruption. In order to more effectively direct faith collected from the world into the seal, Pontiff Phaethon replaced the old single-Savior faith with the Three Saints Doctrine—a model of belief more efficient for sealing purposes.
With the rise of the Three Saints, the original Savior faith was marginalized. Those affected most were the devout original believers—and one other figure: Phaethon himself.
Implementing the Three Saints doctrine did not mean Phaethon agreed with it. On the contrary, he despised the packaging of destructive powers as sacred icons for people to worship—while the one who truly sacrificed himself, his father Heros the Radiant Savior, was forgotten.
As Heros’s son, Phaethon found it hardest to accept the decline of Savior faith. But in light of necessity, he had no choice but to push forward. Yet he knew—this inner conflict, his lingering reverence for the true Savior, would one day become a hidden risk.
To a Lantern deity, when faith becomes distorted, corruption finds its way in. Phaethon had to resolve this internal contradiction.
His solution… was division.
He sought the aid of Mirror Moon, and using the power of the Queen of the Night Sky, reflected and cleaved himself. He cut away the part of himself that revered his father Heros with boundless devotion. The main body remained as the Pontiff, executing the duties of jailer and promoting the Three Saints faith. The severed fragment—his devout half—drifted away, wandering the world, never to meet again.
After being split off, Phaethon’s devout half still could not suppress his faith in the Savior. He went on to establish the Savior’s Advent Sect, proclaiming himself the Radiant Interpreter, and began a small-scale propagation of Savior worship. From early on, the Radiance Church considered the Savior’s Advent Sect a heretical group and repeatedly tried to eliminate it. However, the Holy War Army could never destroy the Radiant Interpreter—because in essence, he was simply the other side of the Pontiff himself. As such, the sect had never been truly eradicated for over a millennium. Though Phaethon knew the truth, he tacitly allowed this situation to continue.
When Phaethon and the Radiant Interpreter had separated long ago, they had already prepared for an eventual reunion. Mirror Moon’s intervention from the start had intentionally left the process reversible. When both sides agreed, they could merge once more—with the choice of which personality would become the dominant core left open.
Just moments ago, the Radiant Interpreter and Phaethon began their reintegration—with the Radiant Interpreter as the anchor. Everything that belonged to Phaethon was instantly reintegrated through this ancient arrangement, including the divine gem he had just recovered. When Phaethon had made contact with the gem, he used permissions granted by Dorothy, a demigod of Revelation, to partially convert the gem’s nature and fuse it into himself—thus bringing it back alongside him.
Now, fully reunited, Phaethon released the conversion on the divine gem and formally handed it to Dorothy. With that, Dorothy had finally gathered all necessary elements—only the final step remained.
“Come! The time has come!”
As the violet gem in her hand vanished in a radiant burst, Dorothy, now possessing complete divinity, looked ahead with unwavering resolve. With a single gesture, countless characters danced into the void, sparking the arrival of a grand spectacle.
In the darkness of space, countless radiant threads of light appeared—thin lines glowing softly. These threads rapidly expanded, intertwining and connecting, sketching outlines, forming structures, raising monuments, temples, and vast avenues.
A city—a magnificent, grand city—was drawn by these threads of light. And in a flash of brilliance, color filled the lines, and illusion became reality.
The Land of Revelation—Heopolis.
The sacred city once sealed away in the depths of history, had finally returned to the world—to the material realm.
Detached from any planet, Heopolis hovered in the cosmos. The city, long prepared, immediately began its mission the moment it emerged into the world.
Atop the tallest pyramid in its center, purple runes began to shine. These mysterious symbols soon flooded the entire pyramid and then cascaded like a torrent through the city streets—filling them with bright violet brilliance. All the glowing streets linked together, forming a grand Revelation ritual array.
This array, after establishing its core, continued expanding—reaching the city’s edge, then breaching it—rapidly extending into the cosmic void beyond. A single galaxy was not enough. It spread even farther, as though it would eventually encompass the entire universe.
The stairway to godhood was rapidly unfolding. Witnessing it, Dorothy’s form flickered—and when she reappeared, she was in another space entirely.
The sea of scripts churned, and the ancient Throne of Fate still stood amidst the tides of time, its inscriptions on the stele-seat as clear as ever.
Without a word, Dorothy descended silently before the heavy, ancient throne. She turned, seated herself, and closed her eyes—quietly attuning herself to something profound.
At the moment Dorothy took her seat, back in the material realm—atop the great central pyramid of Heopolis—a woman knelt, bowing low.
She wore an opulent white robe with golden trim. Her dark skin gleamed under the cosmic light. She stood at the very heart of the ever-expanding spell formation, clutching a golden staff tightly, and began to chant softly.
“The end of time… the binding of fate…
All causes… all effects… all things… all beings… are recorded… and shall be judged…”
With her chant, phantom figures began appearing throughout Heopolis. They took the forms of ordinary people from thousands of years ago—clothed in short robes that matched the city’s ancient style. They knelt devoutly in the streets, echoing her chant with reverence.
These were historical echoes—reflections of those who once lived in Heopolis—now summoned forth for this sacred ritual. But they were not alone.
Beyond Heopolis, on the vast and endlessly expanding divine array, threads of light manifested—twisting together to form countless grand cities, each bearing unique features, spreading outward without end.
A colossal Tree of Life sprouted, surrounded by elegant elven cities rapidly taking shape. Towering mountains erupted from the formation, with magnificent gates built into their slopes—hints of vast subterranean cities within. Amid drifting clouds, ancient-style pavilions floated gracefully, where cranes soared and koi swam. Skyscrapers rose at impossible speeds, forming hyper-dense urban sprawls that expanded outward like wildfire.
Fortresses… towers… cities… citadels…
From the history of this universe—and even prior reincarnations—countless civilizations and landmarks reemerged atop the formation. Elves, dwarves, humans, fishfolk… species that once existed but had long vanished now appeared again in their respective domains—kneeling in devotion at the center of the ritual array, offering praises with the high priestess for the return of the Fate Sovereign.
“Ah… the Throne of Fate has sat empty for too long…
The paths of history have long gone astray…
We call now upon the wise scribe… the great arbiter…”
The Throne of Fate was about to receive its true master. Countless memories from across eons—across cycles of reincarnation—surfaced, assisting and celebrating the birth of a new Arbiter.
For a time, the Mother of Chalice’s power across the cosmos waned. The enormous, malformed sensory organs began to blur.
“At last… it begins…”
In the story world, within a barren desert mirroring North Ufiga, Setut stood atop a sand dune, gazing at the otherworldly battlefield far beyond his reach—and murmured in awe.
“The Fate Sovereign shall return to Their throne… This world must once again welcome its true judge.”
Gazing in the same direction, Shepsuna, beside Setut, closed her eyes and began to pray quietly.
“O great Arbiter of History,
May all crooked fates… return to order…”
…
“This is no longer your era, Arbiter!”
Beyond the material realm, the Plague God—newly freed from Radiance’s suppression—instantly sensed the changes occurring within the cosmos.
With a roar, murky plague mist gathered once more, taking on the form of a decaying bird and diving into the material realm, aiming straight for the ongoing ritual.
As the Plague Vulture soared, the space around it shattered—and from those rifts emerged two equally colossal beings.
A pitch-black direwolf—and a crimson serpent.
The infant Butterfly God had bought Beverly enough time to support the material realm—creating a narrow window of advantage by momentarily delaying the Gluttonous Wolf and Abyssal Serpent. But the Butterfly God had paid dearly for this distraction—suffering serious injuries—and was forced to retreat, releasing the two gods from its control.
The Gluttonous Wolf, the Abyssal Serpent, the Plague Vulture…
At this moment, the Three Gods of the Afterbirth Cult had finally gathered to fulfill their purpose.
Dorothy’s apotheosis ritual had begun—but this ritual could not be completed instantly. If disrupted midway, the consequences would be catastrophic. If she could not finish it before the Mother of Chalice regained full strength—this war would be lost.
Though the Mother of Chalice was still in a collapsed state, her three offspring retained their full power. Together, they could easily sabotage Dorothy’s ascent.
“Tch… another mess to clean up…”
Within the material realm, Beverly—still in her weaponized form—muttered at the sight. To defeat the Mother of Chalice, she, Phaethon, and Dorothy had exhausted much of their strength. Now all were weakened. Dorothy had already entered the ritual and couldn’t take action even if she wanted to. Only Beverly and Phaethon remained able to fight.
In terms of power, they were now two extremely weakened upper-rank subordinate gods. Their opponents: three fully intact, elite subordinate gods.
The disparity… was evident.
But no matter how hopeless it looked… This battle must be fought.
This was the final battle of this great war. The one that would decide everything.