The wind howled through the open skeleton of what had once been the proud planet of Ruitan.
Where a world had once pulsed with life, only a suffocating expanse of gray ash and crushed stone remained.
The entire planet had been reduced to a fractured skull, bleeding magma and dust.
At the center of that colossal graveyard stood Silver, his body still smoking from his light-speed journey through space.
His arms hung at his sides, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles burned white.
His eyes remained closed.
The air around him smelled of ozone and charred blood, a scent he knew all too well.
"What were you doing here...?" Silver's voice tore through the silence, a whisper laden with the weight of eons.
Looking behind him, he saw only two bodies, and of those two, only one was his student. Suki was completely shattered, on the verge of death at any second.
Silver breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a trace of energy emanating from Suki—weak, but proof that he was still alive.
He walked over to the two of them and kicked Tsukumo, forcing his body onto its back. His energy was still present as well.
"At least there's that," Silver muttered.
Silver's red eyes swept across the vast destruction before he began to float, rising out of the crater.
"There are still survivors," Silver said, sensing the energy of all the slaves miles away.
"But none of it belongs to Laura. What happened here, Suki?" he murmured, looking down at the boy below.
He then closed his eyes and crossed his arms, and the world shuddered.
An inverted aurora, woven from the purest light, erupted from his chest—an absolute command.
The light cut through the planet's atmosphere like an incandescent mantle, forcing reality itself to bend.
"Bloom," he commanded, opening his now-emerald eyes.
The dead earth groaned as thick and microscopic roots alike shattered the crust of charcoal with absurd, vibrant force.
Entire fields of verdant grass sprouted, spreading like wildfire through a dry forest.
Rivers that had been vaporized erupted from underground, tearing through the dust and cleansing the blood-encrusted rocks with translucent waters.
Beasts of pure light began taking shape on the horizon, gaining flesh, bone, and breath one by one.
Entire villages and forests rose from the ground, piecing themselves together as though the hands of time were being turned back.
The world began to breathe once more.
But even as green and blue painted Ruitan back to life, Silver's green eyes narrowed.
At the far edge of the central crater, there was a stain.
It was a faint, distant black aura, yet undeniably alive.
There, the newly formed grass withered the moment it touched the ground; the fabric of reality was rotted.
A wound that even the touch of a Silver God could not mend.
It was unmistakably that man's mark.
Silver stood watching, his chest rising and falling slowly as a storm began to brew inside his mind.
There were too many questions.
And he wouldn't get answers with those two on the brink of death.
Lavinsk.
Divine White Room
The walls of living crystal vibrated at a slow rhythm, casting a soft, sterile light that filled the vast infirmary.
At the center of the room, two parallel beds hovered a few inches above the marble floor.
In one lay Suki.
In the other, Tsukumo.
The two warriors who had nearly torn a planet in half now lay side by side, reduced to shadows of their former selves.
Levelled by the same crushing defeat.
Healers moved around them in tense silence, walking on tiptoe.
Thick tubes of liquid light pulsed, injecting pure energy directly into the darkened veins and torn muscles of both men.
Every breath they took sounded like a bloody battle.
Occasionally, crimson-and-blue sparks of residual energy crackled off Suki's skin, making the healers flinch back instinctively, terrified of the destructive power still simmering within his comatose body.
Suki's face contorted.
He shuddered on the bed, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
The bandaged, stained fingers of his right hand slowly curled, desperately clawing at the empty air.
His cracked lips moved, shaping a soundless word.
"Laura."
On the neighboring bed, Tsukumo lay motionless.
His divine vessel was shredded, but his face seemed to have lost something far greater than blood.
The untouchable arrogance, the god complex, the gaze that judged the world from above... all of it had been erased.
Eyes half-lidded, staring unblinkingly at the glowing ceiling, Tsukumo said nothing. He glanced to his left, where a beautiful flower rested.
"Mother," was the only word he uttered.
Beneath his hollow stare, a single, heavy tear rolled down the corner of his eye, disappearing into the white sheets.
The agony of one who had destroyed everything for absolutely nothing.
Divine Council
The silence reigning over the Council Chamber was no mere absence of sound; it was a physical pressure, heavy as mountains upon the chest, so dense one could taste metal in the air.
The walls of starlight marble absorbed every breath, every heartbeat, echoing back only a sacred, suffocating emptiness.
Kania leaned against the farthest wall, her arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging into her forearms until her fair skin turned pale.
Her eyes, normally soft, were locked onto the center of the solid gold table like twin spearheads.
Seated around that perfect circumference on thrones carved of light and antiquity were the most powerful beings in all realms—the Top 10.
Gods whose words could extinguish stars, whose slumbers shifted galaxies.
And every single one of them had their gaze pinned to the celestial projection floating above the table—a vivid, trembling, blood-soaked record of the final moments of the Battle of Ruitan.
The image flickered, unstable as a dying flame.
Rays of energy tore through the sky in hues that did not exist in nature.
And then came Arthur.
The Morokian appeared in the frame, his hand violently clamped onto Laura's hair, dragging her like an inanimate object, her body limp and motionless.
"Cursed Morokian." The voice thundered before anyone could stop themselves.
The second tallest being in the room slammed his fist onto the table, making the gold vibrate.
He was a colossal god, shoulders broader than portals, muscles carved like living rock, with short red hair and a stubbled beard trembling with fury.
"I said from the beginning: the right thing was to wipe out the entire bloodline. Everyone. Didn't I, Silver?"
Silver didn't answer right away.
He was reclined in his seat, fingers intertwined in front of his face, eyes locked on the image still showing Arthur dragging the girl.
His silver hair fell across his temple, and a rigidity set in his jaw that few had ever seen.
He remained silent, but his silence weighed heavier than any response.
Then the image shifted.
The air within the projection warped.
The sky darkened, as if space itself bent before a presence.
A hooded figure appeared beside Arthur, and the projection shuddered so violently its edges frayed.
That weight... that pressure that made one's bones creak just from looking at it.
"Agnes."
The name escaped Kania's lips in a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a scream.
Instantly, the seated gods recoiled into their thrones, and the air grew colder.
Uttering his name aloud was forbidden.
It was a curse.
A story mothers told children to keep them indoors at nightfall—a name even gods did not dare speak without trembling.
In the projection, Arthur threw Laura to the ground and stepped through the portal torn into the fabric of the world, followed by the red-haired shadow who picked Laura up, and the other figure—Agnes.
The portal sealed shut behind them, leaving the sky to return to normal, but the trace left behind was a wound that would not heal.
"Who is that red-haired boy?" The voice came from the opposite side of the table.
Erina, Goddess of Waters, responsible for weaving and observing images that flowed like living water.
She possessed brown skin that gleamed like polished bronze and hair that waved like deep waters at midnight.
She furrowed her brow in confusion, adjusting the projection's flow.
"Perhaps... a disciple?" ventured Kattan, his voice deep and measured.
The Royal Knight tapped his finger against the edge of the table, where the image froze on Arthur's profile.
"THAT VERMIN IS TRAINING SOMEONE?!" The muscular god slammed both hands onto the table.
The solid gold cracked down the middle, a fissure spreading like a vein.
"That's impossible! That bastard has no heart, no purpose beyond destruction! He wouldn't have the patience, let alone the desire, to train anyone!"
"He does." The word was spoken quietly, yet it silenced everyone.
Silver straightened in his throne, his green eyes gleaming beneath his silver brows.
"He is capable of it."
Kania stepped forward.
The sound of her shoes echoed like a drumbeat in the silence, her posture stiff as though every muscle were locked in combat.
"Whoever he is, whatever the plan," she said, firm as granite, "their presence there was no coincidence. The fact that Agnes revealed himself... this could become a problem of incalculable proportions, something not even we will be able to contain."
"But what did he want with little Laura?" asked a seated figure, green hair cascading down over a long beard that reached his chest.
"Why take her? Of all beings... why her?"
"There is no way to know for sure," Kania replied, a subtle tremor threading through her voice. "Agnes hasn't taken the field since the Great War. If he showed himself now... the plan is further along than we feared."
Before anyone could formulate an answer, the massive Council doors—carved from the wood of dead worlds—were thrown open violently.
Hinges groaned, and the impact against the walls caused stardust to rain from the ceiling.
Riku, the God of Pride, marched inside.
He didn't need to shout to be felt.
Wearing that same reddish-black armor with massive white hair.
His mere existence sucked the air from the room.
His aura was sheer arrogance—posture erect, chin held high, his gaze sweeping over everyone present as if they were insects, until it settled on Kania.
"And what exactly are you doing here, Kania?" His voice dripped with venom, calm and cutting.
"This is the Council of the Top 10. The matters discussed in this room are restricted and strictly confidential. You have no right—"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, RIKU!"
Kania's roar shook the eternal lights around the room.
"I CARED FOR LAURA SINCE SHE WAS A CHILD! I TAUGHT HER TO WALK! I WATCHED HER GROW AS IF SHE WERE MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD! I HAVE EVERY RIGHT IN THE WORLD TO BE HERE!"
The temperature plummeted, and the air turned to ice.
And then Silver moved.
He simply ceased to be on his throne, and in the next instant, he stood between Kania and Riku.
He emanated no fury—he didn't need to.
He merely stood there, the weight of his presence like a falling planet.
His green eyes locked onto Riku's, devoid of shine or anger, possessing a coldness so absolute that the God of Pride froze mid-sentence and instinctively took a step back.
The arrogance within him crumbled beneath Silver's silence.
"I permitted it." Two words. Low. Yet laden with an authority that did not ask, but demanded.
Riku gritted his teeth but did not advance; the silence that followed was suffocating.
No one dared to inhale.
"Enough." Kattan slammed his palm onto the cracked table, the sound echoing like distant thunder.
He turned to Erina.
"Erina. Can you track them? Locate where they were taken?"
Erina nodded firmly, raising both hands as the projection that previously displayed the battle dissolved into a sea of crystal-clear water.
Ribbons of liquid light spiraled, accelerating, hissing and searching, sifting through every star, every planet, every rift between dimensions.
They sought Laura's soul signature, that unique brilliance only she carried.
The humming of the water vibrated louder... and then failed.
The silver glow dulled, and the liquid streams darkened from deep blue to a sickly gray, then to a thick, viscous black.
The crystal water rotted before everyone's astonished eyes, turning into a black sludge that dripped through the air, fuming with the scent of sulfur and decay.
Erina fell to her knees with a muffled scream, hands pressed against her temples, her body arching in pain.
"Her signature... it's blurred..." she gasped, panting, sweat dripping from her skin.
"My waters cannot reach that place... It's as if... as if they are beyond the reach of everything that exists."
"Then they've already arrived," Kattan said, lowering his gaze grimly.
"Yes." Silver scratched his temple, his silver hair tousled between his fingers.
There was exhaustion in his posture—a weariness that went deeper than the physical.
"The Obscure Galaxies."
"THAT VERMIN DARES STEP INTO OUR DOMAIN AND WE CAN DO NOTHING?!" Riku stomped his foot, but no one looked at him.
"It is more than an outrage! It's an insult to everything we are!"
He shook his head as a slow, cruel, arrogant smile spread across his lips.
"But I believe everyone here knows whose fault this is."
His gaze lingered on Silver like a blade.
"A god playing parent, forming bonds with deformed children... if you ask me, that god should have been killed long ago."
The furrow between Silver's brows deepened. He took a step forward, his fist clenched, his aura blazing so intensely it hurt the eyes, but Kattan reached out and placed his hand firmly on Silver's chest.
A silent barrier.
And a voice echoed directly in Silver's mind, soft yet firm.
Don't ruin your life over him. Calm down.
Silver stopped, the glow around him dimming, though it did not disappear.
Riku let out a short laugh.
"Good. The message seems to have been received." He walked toward the open doors, his back turned to everyone, speaking without looking back.
"Don't worry about the girl, she's finished. She's certainly dead by now, or worse."
"Riku."
A single word stopped him.
Silver's voice wasn't loud, but it filled the entire room, rebounding off the walls and rattling everyone's teeth.
"Don't think you could hold me back in a fight." Silver took another step forward, and the air crackled. "Not even if all of you joined forces. Every last one of you would die."
Riku slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting Silver's.
"Is that a threat, God of Order?" he whispered with disdain.
"Who knows, you damned Pride," Silver replied without flinching.
The silence returned, heavier than before.
The tension was so thick the room felt ready to explode at any moment. Riku held his gaze for a second longer, then spun on his heel and walked out, the doors slamming shut behind him.
Silver vanished in the next instant—no sound, no flash, leaving only emptiness where he had stood.
Kania followed immediately after without looking back, her fists still clenched.
Erina let out a long sigh, leaning against the table as her shoulders slumped.
"Phew..." she whispered, the sound of her breath the only thing audible in the room.
Kattan stared at the floor, at the fissure splitting the golden table, and then at the empty doors.
The Council had ended, but not a single soul felt as though they had found answers.
Ruitan — Days Later
The wind still blew, but now it carried the scent of damp earth and freshly cut wood.
The ancient ruins were mere memories beneath the new grass, but the people of Ruitan still bore the scars.
Tents stretched as far as the eye could see.
A former slave, his right arm bandaged and bloody, struggled to lift a heavy log of divine wood recreated by Silver to form a tent pillar.
The weight overcame him; his knees buckled and he collapsed into the mud, panting.
Instantly, two soot-covered women and another former slave rushed over, hoisting the log for him and supporting his shoulders without exchanging a single word.
Dirty children ran between the tents, not playing, but carrying baskets of bread and buckets of water with the grim seriousness of those forced to grow up too quickly.
Atop a hill formed from the rubble of an ancient fortress that nature had failed to fully cover, a young rebel planted a flagpole.
The torn blue-and-white fabric snapped in the icy wind.
The flag of Ruitan.
Around the hill, thousands of eyes watched the banner rise. There was no celebration.
No applause, no songs of glory, no victory shouts.
There was only an ear-splitting, collective, exhausted silence.
"Will they come back?" young Elian asked, looking up at the flag.
"We have to thank them. Those youths saved us," Kael said.
Lavinsk — White Room
Back in the silent sanctuary of Lavinsk.
Suki remained plunged in a deep slumber, his body waging a cellular war to rebuild what he himself had shattered.
The world rested outside, but the wounds carved into the destiny of both men kept bleeding open.