Chapter 281: "Finale" — Grey, Let's Go Home
Threshold of Seraphim.
This was the space between the planet and the starry deep cosmos—a dimension that adhered to the Material Plane yet existed independently of the present world, known as the so-called "Outer Side of the World."
In the eyes of many legends, however, the term Threshold of Seraphim, which originated from the ancient Elven tongue, carried yet another layer of meaning—
"A realm walkable only by the gods."
Now, in an era where the tide of the Age of Gods had long receded—where beings such as Ancient Dragons, High Elves, Demon Wolves, and Phoenixes had already vanished from the stage of history, leaving behind only a few frail bloodlines—the Threshold of Seraphim had become the final remnant of the divine era, the last romantic echo of an age where gods once walked the earth.
Those ancient gods unwilling to perish alongside the ebb of the divine age had hidden themselves within this threshold, relying on slumber and self-sealing to resist the erosion of time, awaiting a shift in the laws of the world—a chance to return to the present.
“Even war has fallen silent… this is the third deity to fall in this era alone.”
“Slumber and self-sealing can never fully prevent the loss of power—if we do not find a way to return to the present world, we may soon follow in Their footsteps.”
As a domain that only angels could step into, the Threshold of Seraphim was, by nature, extraordinarily unique.
The concept of three-dimensional space held no meaning here—there was no up, down, left, right, nor any cardinal directions. Gods could seem infinitely distant, yet exchange thoughts as if side by side… Even the ever-constant flow of time in the present world became exceedingly slow within the threshold.
That was precisely why this place was chosen by the ancient gods as a refuge.
But since the flow of time here was only slow and not frozen, it meant that the Threshold of Seraphim was not an eternal Ideal Land.
Seven entire eras had passed since the end of the Age of Gods. Even with self-sealing and the threshold’s protection, half of the gods who had once fled here had already perished with the passage of time; the remainder were merely surviving on borrowed breath.
Yet, this proposal from one such ancient god failed to gain consensus from the others.
“Return to the present world? That’s easier said than done.”
“We were born bearing the Star Grails within us. Born as angels... Such overwhelming innate power originates from Gaia’s will—what the humans now call ‘the Order of the World.’”
“However, with the rise of humanity, the will of the world… the balance has been broken.”
“The rules of the present world no longer allow for the existence of mythic beings like us. If we were to leave the protection of the Threshold of Seraphim, our erosion and decay would accelerate a thousandfold in an instant.”
The voice of the ancient god who had spoken paused for a moment.
“Of course, if that were the only concern… it wouldn't be truly terrifying.”
They were, after all, gods who had lived for millions of years.
Even if now they were little more than half-crippled forms hiding in the Threshold of Seraphim, they would not simply sit and wait to die.
Over ages of research, the gods had discovered a few means... Methods of projecting their power into the present world through the world’s boundary from within the threshold.
Those cult groups that lurked in the shadows of the Western Continent were the handiwork of these gods—through worshippers, faith, prayer, and Descent Ceremonies, they could influence the world while preserving their existence.
The culprit that had blasphemed the Order and broken the world’s balance, bringing an end to the Age of Gods—was the species known as humanity.
And so, under the manipulation of the ancient gods, the cult groups became extremely proactive in undermining human civilization. Nearly every ending of an era saw the meddling of evil gods.
If allowed to continue, perhaps just a few more eras of sabotage would be enough to bring about the end of humanity’s age entirely.
Then the rules of the world would once again be reshaped—the age of humans would close, and the divine age would return.
By then, the gods would no longer need to hide in the threshold, but instead walk freely once more as they did before the First Era, reviving the glory of the mythic age.
But their long-running scheme, nurtured over multiple eras, had now run into a cataclysm.
“An angel wielding the Authority of Judgment; the inheritor of the Fool’s Library; and the Holy Sword Wielder of the Stars…”
“In past eras, a human becoming an angel has happened before… but this time, there are three.”
“Moreover, I sensed the presence of a human breaking past the realm of legends in the Astral Realm... And with the Death God’s Star Grail still lost in the present world, in the worst-case scenario, the present world may birth five angels.”
“With their presence, everything we’ve laid out in the Material Plane will be annihilated—perhaps they may even survive this era’s Final Catastrophe.”
“Had we known, we would never have allowed the tiger to grow.”
“Allowed the tiger to grow? When that Holy Sword Wielder ascended the throne, that was our final chance…”
“We allied with the Gravekeeper and used multiple Descent Ceremonies. That was the extent of our trump cards, but what did it change?”
At those words, a long silence fell over the Threshold of Seraphim.
It was an undeniable truth.
Though all were angels, those on the opposing side were newly ascended, wielding the Holy Sword and the Fool’s Library... Full of limitless potential.
On their side, however, were a group of feeble elders who had dragged on for several eras, most of their power already lost to self-sealing and slumber.
Their only remaining advantage was numbers—more gods. The joint operation with the Gravekeeper had been intended to play the numbers game.
In the end, they were wiped out in one clean sweep by Shiltina and Last. And who could they even complain to?
They couldn’t win head-on. Sabotage tactics had also failed. After that battle, the cult groups across the Western Continent had been completely purged—only a few minnows remained, unable to stir even a ripple.
Now it seemed, besides lying flat and doing nothing, the gods had no other path left...
No—even that may not be safe. The evil god of Deep Blue Port hadn’t forgotten: Last had once made a threat, saying he’d hunt the true bodies of the gods here in the Threshold.
“Continuing like this is just waiting for death… As long as that Shoreguard and the Holy Sword Wielder live, the human age shall go on forever.”
“In that case, we might as well make one final gamble.”
“In terms of current strength and condition, we may not match the two of them.”
“But… in the River of Time, where only angels may tread, we are the ancients upstream, while they are but newborns.”
“You mean—?”
“Exactly.”
That divine thought rippled slowly through the sluggish flow of time in the Threshold of Seraphim.
“The leader of the Gravekeepers has contacted me.”
“We have decided to pour forth all our strength, regardless of means, to reverse time—”
“To sever the roots of causality, to erase those two before they ever descended into the world.”
This proposal brought about an even longer silence among the gods.
Compared to legends, the greatest trait of angels—or gods—was their Temporal Uniqueness: their ability to exist independently in the River of Time and to perceive its flow.
An angel exists simultaneously in every moment they have ever walked through. Unless, like Grey, they fall from the Throne of Angels and lose their rank, they have no vulnerable moments.
However, that did not mean reversing time and severing causality was easy for an angel.
The inertia of the River of Time, the Corrective Force of History, the Order of the World’s drive to preserve historical momentum… these were enough to make even gods wary.
Let alone now, when the gods were already crippled, hiding in the Threshold of Seraphim.
To go back in time, flip cause and effect, and erase Last and Shiltina by killing their ancestors—this would provoke a historical backlash so intense that some gods might perish from it.
But in the end, these ancient gods, who had lived through countless ages, had long since discarded excess emotion. Only the obsession with survival remained.
No more words were needed.
After a brief analysis and weighing of the cost, the gods quickly reached their decision.
Rather than await doom in the threshold and be hunted once Last and Shiltina grew stronger, they would reverse time and erase them before birth. The cost would be immense—but it was their only option.
Boom—
In the distorted timeline, it sounded as if a roaring tide had surged forward.
The combined divine power of the gods within the Threshold of Seraphim caused the illusory flow of time to begin reversing—slowly but unmistakably, winding back from the lowest reaches of the current timeline.
The phantom currents churned and surged, stirring up vortex after vortex of time, and within each whirlpool flickered indistinct and hazy reflections of the past—
Shiltina ascended as an angel, grasped the Holy Sword, and, hand in hand with Last, announced her coronation before the masses in the Royal City’s plaza—along with her chosen fiancé…
Last, transformed into an undying vegetable, lay in a hospital bed in the outskirts of the Imperial Capital. Every sunlit afternoon, Shiltina took time from her duties to visit him at his bedside...
…
On the night when the Granwell Empire held an engagement banquet for its imperial princess, a black-haired youth hovered in the sky. Behind him, a demonic shadow like Sataniel unfurled its pitch-black wings — and fired that all-consuming spear.
…
Late at night in Starfall University, accompanied by Last, Shiltina received a final gift from her dearest friend Flan — a rapier as gentle as the night sky.
…
On the train to the Academy, Last and the newly acquainted Dean Silver gazed out at the boundless golden fields.
…
In the Town of Canaan, not yet destroyed by the Temporal Collapse, Emis looked up timidly at the boy proudly perched in the treehouse, worried he might accidentally fall.
…
A mountain road cut off by floodwaters; in a cold, damp cave, a half-grown Little Boy and Little Girl huddled close to keep warm, swearing to protect each other forever.
…
Scene after scene of hazy light and shadow appeared in the twisted River of Time.
They were all memories of Last — traces he left in the ages… now replaying in reverse.
The river continued to flow backward — and its speed only increased.
Before long, it rewound to the Sixth Era, to Deep Blue Port, the earliest trace of Last recorded in history.
“No… not far back enough yet.”
“This Shoreguard named Last, inheritor of the Fool’s Library, has terrifying potential… though he only recently became an angel, he already spans a long stretch of the River of Time.”
As time reversed, within the Threshold of Seraphim, one of the Ancient Gods visibly dimmed.
And yet the reversal did not stop — still flowing upstream.
Crossing countless intersecting and entangled time tributaries, swimming upstream toward the unchanging source of the river.
Sixth Era…
Fifth Era…
Boom—
An earth-shaking boom echoed in the Threshold of Seraphim. Myriad starlights burst apart, leaving behind only a crystalline Star Grail drifting in place.
It was a sign of a god’s fall.
Perhaps already too weakened after eons, this Ancient God could no longer bear the burden of time reversal — and perished entirely.
Yet the backward flow of the River of Time did not stop.
Every god present knew — this was a war to the death.
If they could not utterly erase the other, their fate was already sealed.
Only by returning to the oldest origin point could they erase Last at the root and end all possibility of his existence.
Boom—
Another godly shadow collapsed. A Star Grail appeared.
The illusory tide of time began accelerating once more.
Fourth Era.
Third Era.
Second Era.
…
By this point, nearly the entirety of history and the River of Time had been traversed.
Countless tributaries of time — intertwined, overlapping — flowed with distorted time.
This was the overwhelming weight known as “History,” which had flowed from the dawn of time until now, bearing innumerable Eras, billions of lives, and tens of millions of years.
Each branch of time was a turning point: a node of human history spanning millions of years, divergence points in the worldlines…
Behind each thread of twisted time was a saga of heroes, the rise and fall of nations, the brilliance and final notes of civilizations.
And these tens of thousands of interwoven channels, these trillion forks in history—
All led to one singular origin.
The source of the River of Time. The beginning of human history. The prologue to a million-year epic.
The first, and also the last — the Age of Gods.
Having paid the price of nearly half the Ancient Gods perishing, they finally arrived at the highest point of the River — a section belonging to mythic beings alone, utterly unreachable to any living human.
But in the next instant—
The deity leading this effort froze in place.
For at the end of it all — at the starting point of the River of Time no human could ever reach—
There stood a figure.
Black hair, black eyes.
He stood calmly at the river’s source, blocking the gods’ path.
“Hoh… Who’d have thought you’d come to me yourselves, sparing me the trouble of going to the Threshold of Seraphim?”
Gazing at the Ancient Gods who had emerged from the reversal of time, the youth smiled slightly.
“Since I was about to pick up Little Grey, I’ll use a line fitting her Fate Sequence charlatan-style.”
Looking down at the stunned expressions of the gods, he raised a hand and snapped his fingers lightly.
“You and I were fated to meet.”
In the warped time vortex devouring the gods…
Only the youth’s voice still echoed, eternal and unchanging.
“Even with ten thousand paths, none can escape our destined encounter.”
…
Vast and endless — the starry deep cosmos.
This was the deepest part of the Starry Sea, and also the origin of Fate.
Grey drifted here, submerged in the Star Abyss, letting herself float with the tides.
This was the exchange called Fate — the price she had to pay after making such a grand vow.
From the beginning, Grey had known the weight of what she intended — and had long resolved to bear the price.
To fall from the rank of an angel, to wander eternally in the depths of the Starry Sea.
No living being left footprints in the Astral Realm. Even when Star Realm creatures or Legendary explorers approached, they were blocked by the karmic tribulation of Fate — unable to step foot into this silent deep cosmos.
Time here had lost meaning. Each twinkle of a star might signal the passing of centuries.
Only in rare moments did starlight bring altered currents of destiny, rewritten by others. Through those flashes, Grey could glimpse a sliver of light from the material plane.
Nations rose, flourished, and fell into ruin amid war.
Heroes and kings bathed in glory, only to fade into legend — sung by bards as epic ballads.
Civilizations shifted through eras: the towering Mage Towers of wizardry, the skyrunning magitech civilization of war mechas, and the Beastmaster Era where taming reigned supreme…
No matter the form of civilization, no matter how culture changed — at each Era’s end came a repeating Final Catastrophe, burning all to wasteland, from which new seeds of civilization would sprout.
This cycle had repeated six times already — and seemed destined to continue endlessly.
Until a tiny variable appeared.
A black-haired, black-eyed youth.
At first, within the vast, seemingly infinite flood of history, this small variable seemed insignificant.
But with his emergence—
The Steam Age, the Age of Technology, the Age of Deep Space, where even ordinary people could traverse the starry cosmos…
Because of his appearance, the course of civilization was steered toward an unprecedented, brand-new future.
And at the same time—
Grey finally waited long enough for the tiny miracle she had hoped for.
Crack—
The veil of starlight shattered, along with the seal called Fate.
Amid the broken glow, Grey finally heard that voice — the one seared deepest into her soul.
The name she would never forget, even if she drifted forever in the abyss.
They had met in the fog of Frozenwater Town.
Connected on the long streets of the Watchtower.
They came to understand each other amid betrayal on a rainy cliff, and cherished one another in a farewell at the Fractured Coastline.
They embraced — with tears in smiles — in the burning ruins of Canaan.
And now, at last, after a millennium apart—
They fell in love upon this long-awaited reunion.
"Grey, let’s go home."
……
(The End)