Dark clouds loomed thickly over the gloomy sky. Beneath this shroud, the earth was barren and lifeless—a desolate wasteland of pitch-black rock stretching all the way to the dim horizon. Jagged cracks ran rampant across the blackened land, from which scorching fumes ceaselessly rose.
At the heart of this vast, black wasteland rose a solitary mountain. Its steep slopes, the same obsidian hue as the ground, towered skyward. At its peak, thick black smoke spewed as blazing flames flickered beneath. At the mountain’s base, thunderous cries of battle echoed without end.
From the distant edge of the wasteland surged a “tide” of bodies—a massive army, vast and overwhelming, advancing like waves. Towering in stature, clad in crude armor and wielding primitive weapons, red-skinned beastfolk let out wild howls as they charged fearlessly under the roar of war drums. Their target: the looming Black Mountain at the center of the wasteland.
Awaiting them at the foot of the mountain stood a fully armed human army clad in standard heavy armor. Though flying different banners, these elite troops had formed tight formations around the Black Mountain, holding their ground against the beastfolk swarm attacking from all directions.
Amid the clashing of swords and the explosion of spells, the battlefield turned into a brutal harvest of lives. The warriors at the mountain’s base stood like a wall of flesh and steel against the unending tide. Each life lost was like a grain of sand swept away by a violent current. War beasts trampled over soldiers’ bodies, pressing forward step by step, while every remaining defender fought desperately to hold the line.
As the ferocious battle raged below, a different scene was unfolding atop the Black Mountain, near the mouth of the volcano that belched smoke and flame.
Perched on a jagged cliff at the edge of the crater stood a small girl. She had gray hair and wore a strange dress marked with arcane runes. Standing at the precipice, she gazed resolutely into the churning magma below—clearly having made up her mind.
“Salitya... girl of destiny... are you sure you want to offer everything for a prophecy so elusive and vague? There’s still time to turn back,” spoke an old cat, its fur gray-yellow, sitting calmly behind her. It used human language to voice this final warning.
But the girl’s heart had already been made up.
“No matter how uncertain the Sage’s prophecy may be... right now, we have only one path to follow. The fate of the entire kingdom—no, the entire world—rests on my shoulders. So many have sacrificed themselves just to escort me here. I can’t let those heroes down!”
With determination, the girl spread her arms wide, facing the surging fire below and cried out loudly.
“O Dragon of Legend! In accordance with the ancient prophecy, the descendant of Alessia now stands here! Accept this offering! Awaken once more!”
With her shout, the girl leapt from the edge, diving into the fiery maw of the volcano. Her small figure swiftly vanished into the molten brilliance, disappearing in an instant.
Her daring leap was met with silence. Aside from the overwhelming sounds of war echoing below, no other noise followed. It was as if the girl consumed by lava was insignificant and forgotten. The old cat on the cliff sighed deeply at the sight.
But not long after, the ground began to tremble. The mighty Black Mountain started to quake, making it difficult for those below to keep their footing. The lava within the crater began to churn violently, and the old cat, startled, quickly lifted itself into the air and flew away from the crater’s edge.
“What is this…”
BOOM!!
Before the airborne cat could finish its exclamation, the volcano erupted with a deafening roar. Lava burst out in all directions, forming flaming orbs that rained down like fireballs upon the beastfolk army, burning countless lives to ashes. Amid the explosive force, the mountain cracked open, and from the smoke and flame, a deep, resonant roar echoed outward.
From the shattered mountaintop burst forth a massive figure. It soared into the heavens and spread wings that blotted out the sky. Its long cry resounded across heaven and earth.
Covered in glowing, molten rock-like scales and bearing enormous wings inscribed with arcane runes, the blazing dragon swooped from the sky. It skimmed low over the beastfolk lines, bringing with it a scorching, gale-force wind.
Beneath the shadow of its wings, that searing wind tore through the beastfolk ranks. Flesh burned away in an instant, leaving behind only charred, crumbling corpses.
At the base of the Black Mountain, where the lines had nearly collapsed, the remaining soldiers raised their bloodied weapons high in a surge of hope and emotion, shouting:
“Long live! Long live!
“Long live the Dragon of Legend! Long live the Dragon Saintess! Long live the Dragon Saintess!”
Their cries echoed across the brutal battlefield as the surviving warriors gazed upon the mighty dragon that heralded destruction—gazing as if they were seeing the hope of the world itself.
…
Winds howled across the turbulent sea beneath a dark and overcast sky.
This was a world of water. No ship could sail the wild waves of this ocean. Amid the churning tides, there existed only one solid piece of land.
It had once been a mountain. But after the ocean’s fury, most of it had sunk, leaving only the peak exposed as a lone island. Upon this island stood a city—its silhouette locked in defiance against the raging sea.
Iron walls encircled the former mountaintop city. Atop the walls, uniformed soldiers stood with rifles in hand, firing into the waves at monstrous fish-men with humanoid bodies and piscine heads that leapt from the sea.
A dense hail of gunfire formed a deadly curtain, cutting down the invading sea monsters. Yet there were too many. Even as heaps of corpses fell, others swarmed in, scaling the iron walls.
But for those that slipped through, they were swiftly met with razor-sharp blades. Automaton soldiers armed with rotating gear blades darted along rails embedded in the walls, slashing down any intruders.
The cannons installed on the city walls thundered continuously, blasting apart enormous sea monsters as they surfaced, turning the surrounding waters red with blood. But still more came—an endless tide of fishfolk and sea creatures attacking without fear of death.
“…This is never going to end…”
On a section of the steel wall, a young officer with slightly dark skin, clad in a military uniform, muttered grimly as he shot down a fishman that had just climbed over. As he holstered his pistol and turned to survey the worsening battlefield, a nearby soldier cried out in alarm.
“Commander Hardy! Look over there!”
Hardy turned toward the distant sea. What he saw made his expression darken—a towering wave was rushing toward them. A tsunami, over a hundred meters tall.
Staring down this overwhelming force of nature, Hardy gave no orders for evacuation. Instead, he calmly walked to a platform on the inner edge of the wall, picked up a wire-connected receiver, and spoke in a steady voice.
“Level Seven Sea Devourer incoming… We’ve exhausted our strength. Are you ready on your side, Odysseus?”
His message traveled through intricate mechanical relays into the heart of the city, to an underground control room filled with gears and levers. There, an elderly man listened while working.
“Perfect timing. Adjustments are complete.”
Wearing magnifying lenses strapped to his head, the old man—Odysseus—finished tuning the final gear’s speed. He turned toward a large lever, gripped it tightly, took a deep breath, and said:
“Now… it’s time to escape this sea of death once and for all.”
With those words, Odysseus yanked the lever down. Immediately, the surrounding machinery buzzed to life. Chain drives and gears spun wildly, and the hum spread across the entire city.
That hum turned into a tremor. Massive gears embedded throughout the city began to rotate. The entire city began to shake, then slowly started to rise.
It was visible to the naked eye—the besieged city was lifting off from the island, floating into the air, faster and faster.
“Take to the skies, Vicktell! Fly to where the greedy sea cannot reach! Let your roar be the rallying cry for all land-dwellers to take back what’s ours!”
With Odysseus’s declaration, the mechanical city soared skyward under the power of mighty engines, leaving behind the sea, the endless monsters, and the drowning island. As the massive tsunami crashed down, it consumed only the barren rock. The city had become a skyborne island, heading toward a broader horizon.
Within the city, civilians who had lived in dread and soldiers who had fought desperately on the walls erupted into cheers. Hardy, observing the scene, let out a small breath of relief. Looking down at the raging ocean below and the sea monsters writhing beneath, he said coldly:
“Just wait… One day, we’ll take back everything that belongs to us.”
…
Under the pitch-black night sky, lights gleamed brilliantly.
In the bustling metropolis, skyscrapers towered from the ground, and the dense architecture was adorned with dazzling neon lights, casting the entire city into a radiant display of color.
Countless holographic advertisements floated above in the dark heavens, while people on the ground indulged themselves in the decadent, dreamlike chaos of the night market. Although it was already deep into the night, the city's energy and passion showed no sign of waning.
This sleepless city was filled with many high-rise buildings, some of which were owned by the ruling elites of the metropolis. As key territories, these buildings never lacked for entertainment. One such example was unfolding now in the headquarters of "LifeTech Corporation."
On one of the dimly lit upper floors of the LifeTech headquarters, a group of shadowy figures was currently lurking. These unidentified individuals, masked and armed with firearms, were spread throughout the entire floor, keeping vigilant watch over all movements.
At the center of this dark floor was a server room packed with countless servers and tangled cables. Several figures were gathered here. One of them had a cable connected from the data port on his forehead into a server, and was also linked to a laptop he was rapidly operating. His fingers danced across the keyboard, eyes scanning the dense stream of data on the screen.
“Almost there… almost there…
“Very soon… the people of this city… will awaken to the truth of Mother…”
Muttering with a trace of madness, the hacker from the Blood Mosquito Gang intensified his efforts. At this moment, he was actively hacking into LifeTech’s servers, inserting a virus that would be propagated through LifeTech’s network into the medical chips implanted in every resident of the city.
This virus would disable several critical functions of the medical chips, rendering the immune enhancement systems implanted in tens of millions of people non-functional. Once that happened, the newly developed plague would spread freely and uncontrollably throughout the city.
The extremist gang members executed their plan with calculated precision—the hacker group handled the infiltration, while the security group maintained surveillance across the floor. So far, they had encountered nothing unusual.
“Hm? What’s that sound?”
At that moment, on one side of the floor, a gang member on patrol suddenly froze as if sensing something. He stepped up to a floor-to-ceiling window and looked down—only to witness a scene that left him stunned.
Below their active floor, something was racing up the sleek glass surface of the LifeTech skyscraper.
Upon closer inspection, he saw it was—shockingly—a motorcycle. A motorcycle speeding straight up the 90-degree vertical face of the skyscraper! It was using the building’s reinforced glass windows as a roadway, accelerating directly toward their floor.
“Alert! Something’s—AARGH!!”
As he turned to warn his comrades, two massive black tires appeared against the window behind him. With a thunderous crash, the reinforced glass shattered. A heavy motorcycle burst through, crushing the gang member beneath its wheels as it tore into the floor.
“Who’s there!?”
Startled by the noise, the other patrolling gang members quickly aimed their weapons at the intruder—but before they could open fire, gunshots rang out from the motorcycle first. In a flurry of muzzle flashes and explosions, the gang members collapsed one after another before they could react.
While unleashing a hail of bullets, the motorcycle roared forward through the high-rise interior, barreling through a door and smashing into the wide server room. It collided hard with the hacker at the terminal, sending him flying. The data cable was torn from his forehead, and he spun twice through the air before crashing to the floor, vomiting blood.
“Good evening, scum of the Blood Mosquito Gang. What’s this? Trying to spice up the corpse lottery tonight?”
Amid the haze of pain and confusion, the dying hacker heard a crisp female voice. Using the last of his strength, he lifted his head to catch a glimpse of the intruder.
She was a striking, tall woman clad in a form-fitting black leather suit that accentuated her alluring figure. The zipper at her chest was slightly undone, revealing a hint of pale fullness. One foot braced her humming motorcycle, one hand gripped the handlebar, and the other held a smoking pistol. Her long, softly curled hair flowed behind her, and behind her glowing image-reflective shades were smiling, seductive red lips.
“B-Bounty Hunter… Knight… Vlera…”
Matching the figure before him to the data in his memory, the hacker's final thoughts faded into unconsciousness. Darkness overtook him, and his senses slipped away from the world.
Just like the rest of his companions, on this otherwise ordinary night, he was hunted down by one of the predators that stalked the city’s underworld.
…
Countless worlds… countless strands of fate… countless stories…
In the clash between two divine forces, nearly all of existence was swept into the conflict. Incalculable domains took form as countless worlds, each infused with the power of these two vast forces—giving rise to endless war.
How long had this war gone on? How vast was it? No one could say for sure. New worlds continued to be created as battlegrounds where the two powers clashed. Each of these simultaneously existing worlds had lived through hundreds of thousands—millions—of years.
Some of these worlds were real, others simulated. But all alike, the fated servants of these powers became pawns of their grand masters, cycling through reincarnation after reincarnation, experiencing turbulent lives in countless realms—fighting for gods whose very existence remained uncertain, all in the name of eradicating the other side.
At long last, after uncountable ages and ceaseless chaos, this seemingly eternal war was finally approaching its end.
…
Gregorian Year 2057, twenty-one years after the Cataclysm.
Through the tireless efforts of nations around the world, and under the leadership of the Sisters of Salvation, the global outbreak of the biochemical virus had finally been brought under control. With the deployment of powerful, specialized weapons developed by the Sisters, legions of zombies and monstrous mutants were rapidly eradicated, and humanity began reclaiming the lands it had lost.
In the former capital of the Southern Union—Dolon City, the site of the original outbreak—victory had been achieved. Overgrown and desolate for years, the city was now being reclaimed, and countless displaced people excitedly returned to their old homes.
In the city center, the liberating army was now assembling for a ceremonial parade. Citizens gathered in celebration around the victorious soldiers. For the first time in years, the city—once silenced by the undead—was filled with joy and life.
Festive music played through the streets, cheers echoed under showers of falling flowers, and the triumphant warriors marched in proud formation. On the side of one such celebratory street, a tall building stood with a wooden window flung open. A figure stood there, looking down at the jubilant scene.
It was a man—a young man in his early twenties. He wore a yellow trench coat, had messy black curls, and skin so pale it looked sickly. His heavy expression was tinged with melancholy.
Watching the parade below, his gaze was conflicted. He seemed as though he wanted to say something, or perhaps act—but ultimately held back. With a quiet sigh, he withdrew his gaze and turned back into the room.
In stark contrast to the long-desolate city outside, the scene within the window was entirely different. Inside the steel-and-concrete high-rise was a warm and refined wooden study. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, cluttered scrolls piled atop the desk, and delicate ornaments decorated the room. It was clearly a private, personal space.
In one corner stood a ticking clock. Below it, a small tea table. On one side sat a silver-haired girl quietly sipping tea; on the other, slightly farther away on the floor, an old woman lay in a recliner, dressed in simple white robes, eyes closed in peaceful rest. Two children—no older than ten—played near her.
“Woof woof! I’m gonna bite you!”
“Hiss hiss… Haha! I caught you!”
One child wielded a black wolf plushie, the other a red snake toy. They clashed and played without restraint. The elderly woman made no effort to stop them—just like any grandmother dozing by her grandchildren.
Seeing this scene, the young man sighed again and returned to the room, walking over to the tea table.
“This round… looks like I’ve won again.”
Sitting calmly behind the tea table beneath the clock, the silver-haired girl smiled and said as she took another sip of tea. The young man responded plainly.
“Yeah. As always… just as expected.”
As they spoke, he turned his gaze to the chessboard on the table—an unconventional set, where the pieces were not black and white, but red and purple.
At this moment, the chessboard had reached its endgame. The red side was in full retreat, most of its pieces had been captured, and even the king was in a state of check—clearly a dire situation.
“Well then, it’s your move next. Please~” said the silver-haired girl with a smile as she set her teacup back onto the table, inviting the young man to make his next move.
The young man stepped up to the chessboard and picked up his king, currently in check, then looked across the board for a suitable square to place it on.
However, faced with the shattered state of the board, his expression darkened once again. After careful consideration, he still couldn’t find a satisfactory solution. Finally, with a silent sigh, he set the king back in its original position, making no move at all.
“What’s this… giving up already? There should still be a sliver of opportunity,” the silver-haired girl asked curiously.
The situation was check, not checkmate—so she questioned why he refused to continue. The young man, hands behind his back, answered with a sigh.
“There is room… but so what? It would just be dragging things out. You’ve already taken control of nearly ninety percent of the realms and laws. The overall situation is set in stone—there’s no longer any point in playing this game.”
The young man… or rather, the Plague Vulture, answered thus. Hearing this, Dorothy calmly responded with a faint question.
“You mean… you’re acknowledging that I’ve won?”
“Or perhaps, from the very start of this so-called game, you’d already won. O Fate Sovereign, you’ve had too many advantages and resources. Our match only held meaning before you ascended to godhood. Once you ascended, every contest became meaningless…”
So spoke the Plague Vulture to Dorothy. The meaning was clear: although both Dorothy and the Mother of Chalice were main gods, the resources they controlled were vastly different, and their powers were not equal. Dorothy had a clear advantage.
In order to act as an Arbiter of History, the Lord of Revelation had not split into subordinate gods to distribute its power. Thus, although both were main gods, Dorothy’s divine strength remained relatively whole and more formidable. In contrast, the Mother of Chalice lacked the support of her Desire Path subordinate gods, and naturally had a weaker divine force than Dorothy.
Moreover, Dorothy was aided by many other divine powers—the descendants of the Lord of Lantern, of Shadow, the God of Machinery, the God of Dreams, the God of Redemption, and even the Dark Gold divinity. With access to all these resources, the power gap between her and the Mother of the Chalice had become enormous—insurmountable even.
As the Plague Vulture said, the true game was already over once Dorothy became a god. Everything since then, across countless ages and worlds, had been little more than garbage time. The outcome was already decided.
“This war—we have lost.”
With those final words, the Plague Vulture tipped the red king on its side and then silently turned away, walking toward the recliner. Kneeling beside the elderly woman seated there, he spoke gently.
“Mother… let’s go.”
Hearing this, the old woman slowly opened her cloudy eyes, nodded slightly, and allowed the Plague Vulture to lift her up with great care.
“You’ve won… young Arbiter. We’ve no regrets in our loss. But I must warn you—this doesn’t mean everything is over. You know better than anyone who your true enemy is. That one will not disappear from the universe just because we’ve fallen…”
Supporting the elderly woman, the Plague Vulture gave this final warning with his back to Dorothy. In response, Dorothy simply lowered her hat and said calmly.
“Thank you for the reminder. I’m well aware of that.”
The Plague Vulture said no more. Guiding the old woman and leading the two noisy children, he walked toward the door of the room. As they opened the ordinary door, they passed one after another into the vague, misty void beyond.
Just before stepping through, the old woman suddenly paused, turned back slightly, and looked toward Dorothy still seated at the chessboard. Her lips moved softly, and she spoke her first words.
“…Thank you.”
With that, she too stepped through the door with her child, disappearing into the haze. The door gently shut behind them. The study fell silent. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall echoed through the room.
“Uwaaah…”
Amid the quiet, Dorothy couldn’t help but yawn and stretch with a long, lazy motion. She slowly stood up from her chair, looked around at the now-empty study, and murmured softly.
“It’s finally over… Well then… time to go home…”
Still speaking to herself, Dorothy walked over to another door at the edge of the room. She opened it and stepped into the void beyond.
As she stepped into the emptiness… what appeared before Dorothy’s eyes was a vast, murky expanse filled with countless floating world bubbles. At her will, the timelines of the worlds created during the divine war began to accelerate, letting each live out countless peaceful years, reaching the end of their own history.
Then, Dorothy began to issue rulings on history itself, returning the world bubbles to their original domains—causing the entire universe to regress toward the form she desired.
By now, the Mother of Chalice had fallen. No other main god remained to contend with her for control over the universe and its laws.
Stars passed. Time shimmered…
In a single thought, in the blink of an eye, the scenery around Dorothy changed dramatically. The hazy void vanished, replaced by the darkness of space. The infinite world bubbles that symbolized countless realms disappeared, returning to their respective inner realms. The cosmos now showed only stars, as it once had.
Countless stars… countless galaxies returned to their original forms, glittering like scattered jewels across the distant firmament. The blazing sun returned in full glory, surrounded by planets spinning in orderly orbits—including that blue planet with its faithful moon.
Dorothy now hovered in space above the blue planet, silently gazing down at everything below.
At this moment, she had restored the universe to its state before the Mother of Chalice had tampered with it—before the great divine war began. The universe of the material realm reappeared, and the inner realm within it, "Nation of Night," was once again whole. The broken timeline resumed its course.
…
In the center of the main continent, atop the sacred peak of Holy Mount, within the solemn and grand Holy Cathedral, the six Radiance cardinals stood in silence. Suddenly, each of them came back to themselves from a strange stupor, visibly disoriented, like waking from a deep dream.
“Oof… my head hurts… what just happened? Why does everything feel so hazy…”
Holding her head, the Secrets Cardinal Artcheli frowned and spoke seriously. She felt as if she’d forgotten something important—many things, even.
She wasn’t alone. The other bewildered cardinals turned to one another in confusion, and just as they were about to speak, they saw the figure seated on the central throne—and all of them froze, then bowed deeply in unison.
“We greet Your Eminence…”
Seated before the Radiance altar was Phaethon, still in his elderly form. He wore an expression of profound relief, gazing into the distance—where his eyes fell, no one knew.
“…We did not fail you. We won… Father…”
…
In the southern part of the continent, on a stormy coast, the young nun Vania stood facing the sea. The howling wind rustled her white robes. Joy lit up her face as she prayed devoutly.
“Praise the Lord… Thanks be to the Lord… for saving this world… for saving all worlds…
“I shall follow You always… my Lord…”
…
In the heart of the Western continent of Starfall, at the sacred grounds of the Shamanic Faith—the Ancestral Valley—the True Spirit Shaman sat atop a tall totem. Together with countless bewildered shamans, he stared at the now-ordinary sky and sighed.
“Did everything truly end well in the end? That’s good… I hope the Soulburier played a part in it too, in whatever form…”
…
In the depths of the shadowy Nether Realm, the once-fierce battle had turned into a one-sided chase. The Ice Dragon Emperor was now relentlessly hunting his enemies.
“Ha! Running now that the tide’s turned? You coward! Eternal disgrace is the only end you deserve!”
In his massive dragon form, Inut roared with laughter and mockery as he pursued his longtime nemesis. And that Evil Spirit King, facing this reversal of fate, had no choice left but to flee with everything he had.
In the depths of the Busalet Desert, in North Ufiga, the grand divine site of Heopolis once again emerged from hidden history, standing tall upon this ancient land.
At the center of Heopolis, atop the towering pyramid altar, the Sage Kings of the First Dynasty—Setut and Shepsuna—stood side by side, gazing at the clear sky with undisguised delight.
“It seems all has been settled. The successor—no, the great Arbiter—has passed every trial! We… now have a new god!”
Setut could barely contain his excitement, while Shepsuna simply smiled and replied calmly.
“Of course. After all, she was chosen by the Divine Mentor…”
The ancient descendants now looked forward to the revival of their long-lost civilization. Behind them, at the top of the great pyramid altar, Nephthys lay fast asleep in her ceremonial priestess robes, sprawled out peacefully, even mumbling in her dreams.
“ Snore… snore… hehe… how dare those fools challenge me in this city… they must be tired of living… snore…”
Far from Heopolis, on the endless grasslands of Ufiga, Adele knelt alone in a red dress. Now the vessel for Astarte, her expression bore quiet sorrow. Holding a delicate bouquet in her hands, she prayed silently.
“May you rest in peace… my Queen…”
…
In the desolate temple beneath the Nation of Night, Mirror Moon, having successfully suppressed the Egg of Chaos, was also looking far into the distance. Though she perceived everything, she remained silent and spoke no words.
…
On the northern shore of the Conquest Sea, in a coastal commercial town, Beverly—who had once more taken on her humanoid form—sat back in a nearby chair with a relieved smile tugging at her lips. After settling down, she spoke contentedly.
“Finally~ it’s over~
“Whew… after all that trouble, everything’s wrapped up… though there were way more twists than expected, things turned out alright…”
While speaking, Beverly stretched lazily, her joints cracking audibly. After a bit of relaxed joint-twisting, she focused her mind and sent a message to the presence still high in the firmament.
“Hey, hey… can you hear me? How’re you feeling now, my dearest little Fate Sovereign?”
“…Hmm… not bad, overall. I’d say I feel pretty good.”
Dorothy’s voice echoed in Beverly’s mind, and she chuckled in response.
“Heh, only you could describe becoming a Lord God so casually…”
“Feelings and such… honestly, I already got used to most of this while waging long-term war against the Mother of Chalice. Reflecting now doesn’t leave me with much to say.”
“If you’re not up for emotional talk, then how about we discuss something else—like how we’re celebrating, the Lantern inheritance, or plans for the next cycle. Anyway, just come down first. Let’s pick a more relaxed place to talk.”
Beverly continued, already thinking about how she and Dorothy, along with Phaethon, would coordinate the handling of the remaining time and history for this cycle. What she didn’t expect… was that Dorothy would refuse.
“No… I won’t be coming down just yet. And I don’t think now is the time to discuss any of that…”
“…Now that the Mother of Chalice has fallen, and our greatest enemy is gone, what else is there to talk about?”
Beverly frowned, clearly puzzled, and asked in return.
But Dorothy answered calmly.
“No… our war isn’t over. Our enemy still remains. Have you forgotten? You were the one who once told me what the root of all crisis in this universe was… what the origin of all calamity is…”
Dorothy’s voice was composed, even serene—but Beverly, hearing it, suddenly froze. Her expression grew heavier all at once.
“…What are you trying to do!? I told you before—anything about the Fall, about the Egg of Chaos, we’d leave for the next cycle! This one’s already too fragile. Let it naturally play out to its End and face judgment. No more reckless risks!”
Beverly’s voice was sharp and urgent. She seemed to realize what Dorothy was planning, and was doing her best to stop it.
“Reckless risk? No… I don’t see it that way. You know, Beverly… I now stand at the same height as Osiris. I can perceive this entire universe from a higher-dimensional perspective. I see all fate… and all history…
“And from the depths of the river of fate, I’ve reached a conclusion. The same one, perhaps, that Osiris… and Hyperion once reached…”
Suspended in cosmic space, Dorothy looked down upon the beautiful blue planet below. Her half-squinting eyes shimmered with a strange glint.
“I’m certain: the re-fusion of opposing divine natures, the rebirth of primordial divinity—that is the key to breaking the prison of Chaos. That is how we escape the constraints of the Egg of Chaos… and reach a new universe.
“This is my conclusion. A conclusion drawn from everything I’ve seen from this height. I believe it was Osiris’s conclusion as well…”
Countless dense symbols and streams of data flickered in her eyes as Dorothy murmured to herself. Her tone carried an eerie emptiness, as if stripped of emotion. Hearing her words, Beverly shouted anxiously.
“Give it up, Dorothy! Hyperion already tried that dangerous experiment! You saw the consequences!”
“Hyperion failed—because he wasn’t a transmigrator! He wasn’t an outsider to this universe. Even with the ritual, he couldn’t truly transcend. But I’m different. I am an outsider. A transmigrator through these cycles!
“Do you understand, Beverly? From my perspective now, there is nothing wrong with the information and ritual Osiris left behind. The mistake was that it was meant for me—not Hyperion. That third of divinity, the divinity of Revelation, and the details of the Eclipse Ritual… all of it was meant for me from the beginning. Hyperion… somehow intercepted it.”
Dorothy’s eyes shimmered with countless characters as she conveyed her conclusion. Beverly stood there, dumbfounded, frozen in disbelief.
“…What? Hyperion said that in the ‘Revelation’ ruins, he saw the information Osiris left behind, along with the divine nature contained within… and that it was originally intended for you…”
“Exactly! That’s why it’s clear why Hyperion fell. As a native deity, he carried out a ritual meant only for an outsider like me—and that error brewed catastrophe.
“But now… the error has been corrected. I’ve reached the place I was always meant to be. And now, I must do what was always mine to do…
“This is my will… and Osiris’s as well. Even so—do you still doubt it?”
Dorothy’s voice dropped low as she spoke solemnly. Beverly hesitated, visibly stunned, as if truly beginning to waver.
However, Beverly’s hesitation did not last long. Her expression quickly regained its resolve as she spoke again, her tone serious.
“I still don’t agree with you taking that risk! It’s far too dangerous. We’ve already been through this once! Even if this idea was truly left behind by Osiris, everything got scrambled after Hyper messed with it. It’s best we don’t attempt it. Let’s wait for the next cycle, the next transmigrator—let this universe rest for a round… alright?”
Beverly’s words were solemn and firm. Upon hearing them, Dorothy fell silent for a moment in the cosmic void, then replied in a hollow, quiet voice.
“So this is what the so-called God of Innovation has become? How unexpectedly… stubborn.”
“Innovation means adapting to change and evolution… reforming only when it’s certain to bring something new—not gambling like a madwoman.”
Beverly retorted sharply to Dorothy’s bitter words. In her eyes, no matter what Dorothy said, the risk of performing another Eclipse Ritual was simply too great. The consequences were completely uncontrollable. There was no need to take such a reckless risk in an era that had finally achieved stability. She was the God of Innovation, not the God of Gambling. Innovation was meant to be rational, not insane.
“…Is that so…? That’s… disappointing.”
Suspended in the vastness of space, Dorothy sighed as she spoke. At the same time, she slowly raised her hand. In that moment, her already-cold expression gained a further touch of frost.
“In that case… I’ll just have to ask you to rest for a while.”
Dorothy’s voice was soft.
The moment she finished speaking, a multitude of floating, arcane glyphs appeared around Beverly. These symbols began rapidly shifting, linking together into chains of pure void. Though the chains did not touch her directly, merely weaving through the space around her, Beverly was instantly crushed by a tremendous formless pressure. The divine power she had just begun to summon was forcefully suppressed and sealed away.
“…What?”
Beverly’s expression turned to shock. Not only was her humanoid avatar suppressed—her divine self within the inner realm had also been completely sealed in an instant. In her current state, she couldn’t release even a fraction of her divine power against Dorothy.
After defeating the Mother of Chalice, Dorothy—now the Fate Sovereign—had reached a transcendent state of power. Within this universe, there was nearly no one left who could stop the Lord God of Revelation.
She could do whatever she wished.
“Calm down! Dorothy! Don’t do anything foolish! Don’t turn into another Hyperion!”
Now suppressed and powerless to stop Dorothy, Beverly could only shout in desperation, trying to dissuade her from whatever she was about to do. But for the current Dorothy, such pleading held almost no weight.
“I am calm… I’ve never been this calm. Don’t worry. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Expressionless and floating in space, Dorothy’s voice was hollow. She lifted her foot, took a single step into the air—and vanished from sight.
In the next instant, Dorothy reappeared in another space.
This place was filled with endless gloom and void. Within that emptiness, a massive and majestic presence existed.
It was a "sun"—a gigantic, cold, white-glowing “sun,” far larger than any ordinary star. It resided in the freezing dark, its frigid “sunlight” shining coldly across all directions.
But upon closer inspection, it became clear that this icy solar image was only a façade. Within that piercing radiance was an intricate structure: a massive crystalline polyhedron of translucent white. It looked both like crystal and bone, constantly shifting into various geometric patterns—some logical, some illogical—like an ever-changing snowflake, or a spinning kaleidoscope.
Looking even more closely, one would realize that this crystalline entity was not glowing of its own accord. Its light came from afar—from the convergence of countless thin rays streaming in from all directions. Each of those rays was a river of souls, surging with billions of spirits.
This “light” did not emanate from within—it was the aggregation of these soul-rivers converging upon it. As they gathered onto the ever-changing crystal body, each soul left behind a name… the name they bore in life.
In this way, the immense polyhedron became a monument—a collection of gravestones. A graveyard. The final cemetery.
This… was the deepest part of the Nether Realm. The vast and magnificent entity that resided here was the origin and terminus of all souls. The supreme deity of the Shamanic Faith—the Lord of Silence, the Great Soul.
In a single leap across all dimensional barriers, Dorothy—herself now a being of equal greatness—stood before the Great Soul, this god of Silence who had long since lost all self-awareness.
Faced with this immense, divine structure, the indifference in Dorothy’s eyes only deepened. And within her indescribable divine body, a violet crystal now began to turn murky.