Weaver had been aware of Morpheus's existence from the very beginning. He had watched him from the very first moment he was born from the fire of the Forgotten One, realizing that he was unlike all other possibilities. Among the countless threads of fate, Morpheus's path resembled no other. Wherever he went, he did not create new possibilities; on the contrary, he severed old ones and disrupted the order. It did not take long for him to realize that such a being would either save everything or end everything. That was why he placed him at the center of his plan; yet he never wanted Morpheus to know this.
Throughout the years he watched him, he found countless opportunities to intervene. He was there when Morpheus's first family was slaughtered before his eyes, and in the wars where his friends died one by one... He saw every moment he held the lifeless bodies of those he loved in his arms. He could have stopped all of it if He wanted to. But hhe didn't. Because he knew that just as an unforged steel breaks in battle, a weapon meant to face such a great enemy could not be shaped without enduring pain. Every loss Morpheus suffered was a hammer blow to his soul; every betrayal was a new forging process that hardened him just a bit more.
However, as time progressed, Weaver's plan began to veer in an unexpected direction. Morpheus was not only growing stronger; the hatred inside him was growing as well. Initially, this hatred was directed solely at the gods. Later, it turned toward fate, the world, and eventually existence itself. When Weaver examined the potential flows of the future, he hesitated for the first time. In the vast majority of the possibilities he saw, Morpheus did indeed kill the gods; but the moment he achieved victory, he did not stop. His fire continued to devour everything in its path—first burning the world, then the Spirit World, the Astral World, and ultimately turning even the void itself into ashes. The boundary between existence and nonexistence was completely erased, leaving behind nothing but an eternal silence. This was the only possibility that even the Forgotten One feared.
That was why the Forgotten One began meddling with Morpheus's memories. At the end of each of his lives, he plucked away the pain he endured and the memories that fed it, one by one from his mind. He did not do this out of pity for him. On the contrary, it was the only way to save him. Because Morpheus's rage grew a little larger with every loss he suffered; and when all his memories accumulated together, it turned into an uncontrollable catastrophe. When his memories were erased, his hatred weakened as well, allowing him to start his new life almost from scratch. The same cycle repeated countless times. Morpheus built a life anew each time, formed bonds with people anew, lost them anew, and in the end, found himself alone once more. The only constant was that at the end of every story, the last person left alive was always himself.
After centuries of this cycle, Forgotten finally felt he had reached the moment he was waiting for. Morpheus had now grown as strong as desired; there was no longer any point in leaving him inside further suffering. But there was still one final obstacle left to overcome. If he regained all of his memories, the hatred inside him would grow large enough to burn everything down. Therefore, this time, instead of erasing his memories, he made a much heavier choice. He took away Morpheus's free will. He left behind only a single emotion: an unquenchable hatred for the gods. And a single purpose... To kill them.
This was also the reason why the gods attempted to eliminate Morpheus in every single one of his lives. Prophecies proclaimed that the person who would bring about their end was already born. They all knew who he was and shared the same fear. From the very first day he drew breath, Morpheus had become a target for the divine beings. Yet, there was a truth that even they did not know. If Weaver had not intervened at all, only half of the prophecy would have come to pass. Morpheus would kill the gods first, and then, because his hatred remained unquenched, he would turn his fire upon all of existence. Nothing in his way would be able to stop him, and in the end, even the stars would go out and the void would begin to burn.
To change this fate, Weaver made a secret pact with Will, who hailed from a world outside his own existence. When Will's authority over fate merged with Weaver's power to weave possibilities, a single way out emerged. In the deepest part of Morpheus's soul, they placed small anchors that even his hatred could not erase. These anchors—consisting not of his past lives, but of the people he truly cared about in his last life, the bonds he forged, and the memories that would remind him of his humanity—would save him from complete destruction when the time came. Furthermore, thanks to the authority of the Wheel of Fortune Pathway, the plan would not depend on a single attempt. Even if they failed, fate would turn once more and grant them a second chance.
First, the sky cracked. Then, an invisible pressure enveloped his entire body. This was not the authority of any god. The world itself was rejecting him. He was no longer a being that the material world could withstand. He had become the god of his Pathway. Reality was slowly pushing him toward the Spirit World; the dimension he was in was trying to cast him out to maintain its own balance. Morpheus took a deep breath. He knew he could not withstand this pressure for long.
"So the time has come..."
Yet, before leaving, there were final matters he needed to complete.
As he took a step, space distorted. The next moment, he found himself in Will's house.
The items in the room were vibrating softly. Invisible lines of fate drifted around him, as the divine authority he was inheriting from his divine self gradually merged with him. His ascension was not yet complete, but very little remained of the old Will.
Will looked at Morpheus for a brief moment and smiled faintly.
"It seems I've done my part of the agreement."
His voice carried his usual relaxed demeanor, but in the depths of his eyes lay a fatigue he couldn't hide. Shouldering such a fate was no easy task.
"You must leave now," he said calmly. "As long as you remain here, my ascension cannot be completed. Leave the rest to me."
Morpheus listened to him in silence.
"The difficulty hasn't changed," Will continued. "The Forgotten One still exists. The road ahead of us is still nearly impossible. But..." A small smile appeared at the edge of his lips. "...now we have one more chance. That is enough for me."
An expression of softness, unseen for a long time, formed on Morpheus's face.
"I will go," he said.
He headed toward the door, then paused.
"But before I go..." he said, waiting for a moment.
Morpheus stepped up to face him without answering. He silently placed his hand on his chest. In the next instant, all the lines of fate inside the room began to tremble at once. Countless golden threads rose from Morpheus's body; the divine authority ingrained in his soul was slowly flowing outward. This was not a power being taken by force. It was being willingly surrendered by its owner.
Will's expression changed for the first time.
"...What are you doing?"
"I don't need this as much as you do."
As the golden lights flowed slowly between the two gods, Morpheus's voice was remarkably calm.
"You need this authority more than I do."
The moment the authority of fate was completely transferred into Will's body, the invisible pressure inside the room shifted. It was as if the universe acknowledged that the final missing piece had fallen into place. Will let out a deep breath. The golden rings within his eyes slowly settled down.
Morpheus nodded lightly.
"I have a favor to ask of you."
Will continued to listen without speaking.
"Restore Backlund to how it was."
A brief silence followed.
"Not just Backlund, but my world as well."
Morpheus nodded.
"Rewind fate to restore everything damaged by the war to its former state. Those people shouldn't have paid the price for my war."
Will closed his eyes. The lines of fate spinning around him began to spill outside the room. Invisible threads first spread over Backlund. Destroyed buildings rose once more. Cracked roads joined together. The traces of fires were erased. The memories of the survivors did not change, but the destruction left behind by the war vanished as if it had never happened.
At the same time, in a very distant corner of another world, time began to flow backward in the quiet corridors of the Academy. Melted glass returned to its former place. Burned laboratories were rebuilt. The cracks covering the corridors disappeared. Scattered books inside the classrooms returned to their shelves. People who had perished in flames returned to life once more.
Will slowly opened his eyes.
"It is done as you wished," Will said, and entered the Astral World. He had now become the Wheel of Fortune.
Morpheus let out a deep breath.
"Thank you."
This time, it was truly time to leave.
Reality warped silently, and Morpheus appeared where Klein was. Klein brought them both to his sefirah for the conversation.
When Klein raised his head and looked at him, neither of them spoke. This silence was enough for them to realize that the farewell had begun. There was much to say, but no words could adequately convey what they had experienced together over the years.
Morpheus slowly extended his hand.
Black particles began to rise from the void. The Extraordinary Sword had long been destroyed. Only the essence of its existence remained. At Morpheus's call, that essence began to reshape. The pieces scattered like broken memories slowly coalesced, and the silhouette of the old sword began to emerge once more.
However...
Morpheus closed his eyes.
From the exact center of his chest, black and golden flames began to rise. It was the essence of the hatred he had carried throughout his life. The accumulated rage, loneliness, losses, and desire for revenge from countless lives... All of these turned into flames and slowly began to flow into the sword.
The metal darkened.
Fine golden veins formed on its surface.
Dark red patterns that were not there before appeared on the hilt.
The sword vibrated lightly, as if it were breathing.
Morpheus grasped it with both hands. For a brief moment, the sword and his body became a single entity once again. It was as if he were leaving the final piece of his soul within it.
Then he held the sword out to Klein.
"I must go home now. But I cannot bring myself to leave you here alone and powerless my firend. I give you this sword. The one with which I killed my first god, and which can now burn all. You are not me. You will not succumb to this hatred."
Klein silently held the hilt.
"Its name is Morpheus. Use it well and save the world."
The moment Klein took the sword into his hand, he felt an indescribable weight. This was not merely the pressure of a powerful sealed artifact. Within it lay the last trace left of Morpheus's will, the fire of hatred that bore witness to his entire journey, and a fragment of a soul that had briefly merged with it. Thus, it was no longer just a weapon.
It was a legacy.
Morpheus raised his hand once more.
Dozens of sealed boxes appeared around them.
The lid of the first box opened on its own. It was filled entirely with gold. Then another... Then another... The Beyonder materials, potion formulas, sealed artifacts, mystical metals, rare ritual materials, and valuable items he had collected throughout his travels in this world began to appear one after another.
In a short time, half the room was filled with treasures.
Morpheus spoke without looking around.
"Everything I collected during my travels is here. Distribute this to everyone in the Tarot Club. Everyone urgently needs to grow stronger and help you. A burden like this should not be carried alone."
Klein looked at him in silence, but a faint hint of happiness could be seen in his eyes. Moprheus knew his friend very well.
"You don't have to be alone. Go tell your siblings everything, tell them you are alive, reveal yourself to the Tarot Club, and do your best to develop. If anyone stands against you on this path, whoever it may be, draw your sword and they will step back. You can pray to Will, he will be in our side."
Silence reigned over the room once more.
Klein looked at Morpheus's eyes with gratitude, but at the same time, he did not want his friend to leave.
"Goodbye, Morpheus. Thank you."
Morpheus smiled faintly.
"Goodbye, Klein."
He walked the stairs of Sefirah Castle for the final time.
On every step, the life he was leaving behind passed before his eyes. The conversations he had with Klein... The enjoyable time spent in the Tarot Club... The day he boarded a ship for the first time... The day he went hunting pirates for the first time... The day he fought an Angel for the first time...
The door standing at the end of the stairs was quietly open.
He stopped and looked back one last time.
He felt relief. After dealing with corruption very long time.
There was only the peace felt at the end of a long journey.
He took a deep breath.
Then he took a single step.
The light behind the door swallowed his entire body.
As Sefirah Castle sank back into silence, the only things left behind from Morpheus were the legacy he left to his friends, the sword bearing his name,
and a legend known to no one.