The Reunion of Gods: A Clash of Verses
The battlefield lay in ruins—a scarred wasteland where the air still crackled with the remnants of divine power. Smoke coiled from the earth like spectral serpents, and the distant echoes of war lingered like a fading storm. Amidst the devastation, Azarel stood, her golden armor dented, her silver hair matted with ash. Her heart, once steeled for loss, now trembled with disbelief.
Before her, descending from the heavens like a fallen star, was Lord Carel—his once-majestic wings now tattered, his divine aura flickering like a dying flame. His face, though weary, bore the faintest smile.
"Azarel…" His voice was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a thousand battles.
Tears welled in Azarel's eyes, shimmering like liquid starlight. "Lord Carel!" she cried, her voice breaking between joy and disbelief. "You're alive!"
Carel landed softly before her, his boots sinking into the ashen earth. He looked down, his expression a mix of relief and sorrow. "Yes, Azarel… I am."
Without another word, he stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace—a rare gesture from a god who had long ruled with cold authority. Azarel clung to him, her fingers digging into his armor as if fearing he might vanish like mist.
"How?" she gasped, pulling back just enough to search his face. "How did you survive? We saw the blast—the explosion that swallowed the sky! It nearly took our lives! And when the light faded… I thought… I thought you were gone!" Her voice cracked. "Yet even then, my heart refused to believe it."
Carel's grip tightened. "I would have perished," he admitted, his tone grave. "If not for the intervention of Lord Nealon, Lord Yoton, and the Supreme Troops—alongside their commander—they arrived late to the battlefield, but not too late to pull us from death's grasp." His gaze darkened. "That blast… it was Lord Yoton's final act. He sacrificed himself to destroy the Chaos God."
Azarel recoiled, her golden eyes widening in shock. "A Ruler… slain by a lesser being?" The implications crashed upon her like a tidal wave. "This… this will ignite war across all the verses! Even now, gods and ancient powers are gathering—forging alliances to rise against the Rulers!"
Carel's expression hardened. "Let them come. They will fall."
Azarel shook her head, her mind racing. "The Universe Gods refuse to join the conflict. The Multiverse Gods have already pledged themselves to the rebellion. The Starverse stirs as well. Only the Domainverse remains unshaken. And we…" She hesitated. "We of the Reveiverse must stand with the Rulers."
"We must," Carel agreed, "but not openly. We have lost too many—warriors, gods, assassins, guardians. If we are attacked now, we will be annihilated. We need time… at least twenty years to rebuild our strength."
Azarel's fingers curled into fists. "Can we not seek aid? The Universe… the Cronoverse—"
"The Cronoverse has already sent reinforcements," Carel interrupted. "But if the Universe openly sends troops to us now, it will provoke the Multiverse and Starverse into immediate action. The Universe is fortified—they can withstand an assault long enough for the Cronoverse to aid them. But we… we are vulnerable."
Azarel exhaled sharply. "You're right. Then we must train. Grow stronger."
Carel nodded. "According to your intelligence, Azarel… how long before the rebellion begins?"
She closed her eyes, calculating. "Fifteen years. The Cronoverse has dispatched their assassins to eliminate rebel leaders across the verses. That should buy us time."
A grim satisfaction flickered in Carel's gaze. "Then we prepare. For now, gather the survivors. Return them to their worlds."
Azarel bowed. "At once, my Lord."
"And Azarel…" Carel's voice softened. "Afterward, come to my chambers."
A flicker of hesitation passed over her face—so brief it might have been imagined. But she nodded. "Y-yes, my Lord."
With that, she turned and strode away, her figure cutting through the smoke like a blade.
The King's Relief
No sooner had Azarel departed than King Saga came rushing forward, his royal robes torn, his face streaked with soot. He skidded to a halt before Carel, panting.
"M-my Lord!" he gasped, clutching his chest. "Forgive my shock, but—by the heavens, you live! When we saw that blast, I feared the worst!"
Carel chuckled—a rare, warm sound. "Saga, my old friend… you should know by now that I am not so easily killed."
King Saga grinned, though his eyes remained shadowed with exhaustion. "Indeed, my Lord. Please, come to my castle. Rest. Eat. Let your troops recover before you depart."
Carel placed a hand on Saga's shoulder. "Your kindness is appreciated. But first, we must ensure every survivor—from every corner of the verse—returns home safely."
Saga bowed deeply. "Of course, my Lord."
"Then issue the command," Carel ordered. "All troops are to escort the survivors. And spread the word—in five years' time, every divine race, dark race, hybrid god, and warrior of power shall gather here, in Saga, for a council of war."
King Saga's expression hardened with resolve. "It shall be done."
As the king hurried away, Carel turned his gaze to the horizon—where the first hints of dawn painted the sky in hues of blood and gold.
The war was far from over.
And the verses would soon burn.
Back on the Coronoverse
The grand hall of the Decision Council hummed.
The Decision Council Meeting Begins
Krelious-Nealon leaned forward, his voice a deep, resonant growl that echoed through the chamber. "Nealon. How did Yoton die? And just how powerful was that demon?"
Zielan nodded in agreement, his piercing gaze locked onto Nealon. "Yes, Nealon. We all want to know."
Nealon exhaled, her expression grim. "Yoton used his Soul Force to amplify his chant against the Chaos God. Even then, the Chaos God stood his ground. That was when Yoton made his decision—he released all his power at once, transforming it into a cataclysmic blast that should have wiped out the other verses."
A heavy pause followed.
Krelious interjected, his tone calm yet commanding. "Yes. I ensured the blast remained contained within the Reveiverse. I reduced its damage significantly."
Nealon's eyes widened slightly—impossible. Krelious was powerful, but to contain and restrict the explosion of another ruler? That was beyond comprehension.
Zielan broke the silence. "Alright. From their battle, how strong was this Chaos God?"
Akermos muttered under his breath, "This being must have been a disciple of the Abyssal King."
Nealon's voice was steady. "To put it plainly—he had power capable of killing a ruler. And reviving one."
Krelious nodded. "Thank you, Nealon. I believe the Meeting of Rulers will provide a more detailed explanation of this being's origins."
Akermos crossed his arms. "So we all agree, then. Nielan and his faction are behind this monstrosity."
Zielan and Nealon affirmed in unison. "Yes."
Krelious's voice darkened. "I want you all prepared for battle at the Meeting of Rulers. I believe they plan to attack me there. And I will be ready."
Zielan frowned. "I don't think the verses can survive a battle between rulers and their armies."
Nealon agreed. "That's true. Except for the Coronoverse—the one made by the Creator. No other verse can withstand such a war."
Krelious's gaze hardened. "Our battle will not destroy the verses. I have strengthened them. Many will die, but the verses will endure. Even if I am sealed away… or killed."
Akermos smirked. "You know, among us rulers, even before you became High Head, you were the only one whose death was nearly impossible."
Zielan sighed. "Even if you hate to admit it, you must acknowledge it yourself—your power is too much."
Krelious exhaled, a rare flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Hmm. I thank you for the praise. But death comes for everyone—even the King of the Dead himself. It is a cycle we cannot break. And that is why I have decided to find and execute the Creator myself. To tip the scales of balance."
Nealon was stunned. "Many rulers—including Itami, the First Father—lost their lives searching for the Creator. Beyond the verses, realities, domains, and dimensions… we do not know what kills those who seek Him."
Akermos added grimly, "And that search is what birthed the Abyssal King and the Void. Two entities whose origins we do not know. We have been at war with them ever since."
Zielan nodded. "We fought them, and by sheer luck, we sealed the Abyssal King and weakened his power. The Void was trapped in the Domain of Hell alongside Death and Lucifer."
Krelious's voice cut through like a blade. "Enough. Every ruler who died in the search was weak. As for the Abyssal King and the Void—I will handle them myself after the Meeting of Rulers."
Akermos bristled. "High Head, it is blasphemy to call those who died—including our Father—weak!"
Zielan stepped in. "High Head, we are not weak. We each have strength according to our class. You… you are the offspring of Itami, the Ruler of War, Chaos, and Destruction… and Zami, the Ruler of Creation, Death, Beauty, and Fate."
Nealon was shocked. "That's impossible. Itami existed 300 billion years ago. But Zami? No one knows if she even lives. She is more myth than reality."
Zielan confirmed. "Krelious was not created. He was birthed."
Akermos blinked. "You mean… they fucked?"
Zielan smirked. "Yes, Akermos. They fucked."
Nealon was still reeling. "We, the last remaining rulers, are only 20 to 150 billion years old. Each of us was created or birthed from the Divine Tree or Destruction. It is a grave sin for rulers to… mate. The abomination it could create—"
Zielan nodded. "It was made a Red Law during the reign of the Second Father, after Itami's passing. The thought of two ultimate beings producing an even greater power was deemed too dangerous."
Akermos narrowed his eyes. "Then you mean to say Krelious is over 200 billion years old… and a purebred."
Zielan confirmed. "Yes."
Akermos turned to Zielan. "And how do you know all this?"
Zielan laughed. "One of my powers allows me to see a ruler's past and dreams—without their knowledge. It also reveals their full strength."
Nealon was stunned. "So you know every ruler's full power?"
Zielan grinned. "All nineteen of us."
Akermos frowned. "What do you mean, nineteen? Are you excluding Yoton because he's dead?"
Zielan chuckled. "No. I see every ruler's power—except Krelious's."
Akermos was baffled. "Why?"
Zielan explained. "When I look at a ruler, I see white and yellow dust around them. Yellow reveals their past and dreams. White shows their full power. If the white engulfs them completely, they are immensely strong. If not, they are weak."
Nealon pressed. "Then why can't you see Krelious's?"
Zielan's smile faded. "When I look at him… I see nothing but endless white and darkness."
Akermos was stunned. "Then how did you know he was Itami and Zami's offspring?"
Zielan sighed. "Another way I see a ruler's past is through their weapon. Unlike others, whose pasts play out like a show, Krelious's dragged me into it. I saw things… that nearly drove me insane."
Nealon whispered, "Is Krelious… the Creator?"
Krelious laughed. "No. As you said—I am a purebred."
Zielan continued. "After seeing every ruler's past, I know who is strongest… and who will die first if war breaks out now."
Nealon tensed. "What are you saying, Zielan?"
Zielan met his gaze. "I'm saying Yoton is not dead. And Krelious is a purebred ruler whose power cannot be measured."
Akermos gasped. "Yoton lives?"
Zielan nodded. "Krelious made sure of it."
Nealon was speechless, tears welling in his eyes. "Where is he?"
Krelious answered. "You will see him again—but not now. I gave him a mission."
Nealon whispered, "I… I don't know what to say."
Akermos shook his head. "How the hell did you save a ruler who sacrificed his soul and turned into an explosion?"
Krelious smirked. "You don't need to know everything. Only that he lives. And this stays between us."
The rulers bowed. "Yes, High Head."
Krelious stood. "Good. This meeting is over. In three months, the Meeting of Rulers begins in the Universe. Be ready."
With that, he vanished.
Nealon slumped back, dazed. "Krelious… a purebred ruler. Older, wiser, stronger than any of us."
Zielan nodded. "It's the truth."
Akermos sighed. "If you can see all, then you've seen my visions."
Zielan's expression darkened. "The war that will end everything… and birth a new era."
Nealon groaned. "More fighting. Less time to rest… and fuck."
Zielan laughed. "If we survive, peace will come. A golden age lasting billions of years."
Nealon managed a weak smile. "Whatever. I'm just glad Yoton is alive."
Akermos stretched. "I've heard enough. I'm heading to the White Room to train."
Zielan stood. "Same. Nealon?"
Nealon sighed. "I'm still recovering from my wounds. I'll rest."
With that, the rulers dispersed—each lost in their thoughts, each preparing for the storm to come.
The Meeting of Rulers Awaits…
The Weight of Power and Desire.
(A Storm Brews in the Realm of Gods and Mortals)
A Summons in the Halls of Power.
The messenger's footsteps echoed through the obsidian corridors of the High Head's sanctum, their rhythm as hurried as the dread pooling in their throat. The air smelled of incense and something darker—burnt ozone, the residue of unchecked divinity.
"My Lord," the messenger bowed, their voice a tremulous whisper.
Nealon did not turn from the window where She watched the cosmos churn. "What do you want now, Messenger?" Her tone was weary, as if She already knew the answer.
The messenger swallowed. "The High Head requests your presence in his bedchamber."
A beat of silence. The stars outside flickered.
"What?" Nealon's spine stiffened. "...Alright. I'm coming."
The messenger retreated, their relief short-lived. "Then I shall take my leave." They vanished into the shadows, leaving Nealon to steel himself against the storm ahead.
The Lion's Den.
Krelious' bedchamber was a cavern of silk and sin. Tapestries depicting wars of annihilation draped the walls, and the bed itself—a monstrosity of carved bone and velvet—dominated the room. The High Head lounged upon it, a goblet of wine in hand, his amber eyes glowing like embers.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in." Krelious' voice was a purr.
Nealon entered, her every muscle taut. "I am here as you requested, High Head."
Krelious smirked. "Yes. Thank you for coming." He swirled the wine, its surface reflecting the torches' dance. "I believe you know why I called you here, Nealon."
Nealon's jaw clenched. "No, my Lord. I do not know."
The goblet slammed onto the bedside table. "You shouldn't act like a human, Nealon." Krelious rose, his shadow swallowing the room. "Must you behave like an ignorant being?"
Nealon's hands trembled. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but we cannot do this. It's a huge sin. You know that."
"Sin?" Krelious laughed, the sound like shattering glass. "Sin unto who? I am the Head of All Rulers—the most powerful of all! I make and destroy rules!" His power pulsed, cracking the marble floor.
Nealon staggered, her breath ragged. "I-I'm sorry, my Lord, but I love another. I cannot possibly have sex with you. I don't even know if I can carry your offspring. You're... too powerful."
Krelious threw back his head and laughed, the walls trembling. "Love? Your love for Yoton doesn't matter to me. I am only interested in making us stronger—and I can only do that with you."
Tears streaked Nealon's face. "Please, High Head, reconsider! I do not want to betray Yoton and his love for me!"
"You fuck other races," Krelious snarled, "and now, to carry my child, you call it betrayal? You're a fool."
Nealon crumpled to her knees, sobbing. "I'm... I'm sorry, my High Head."
Krelious turned away, his voice a whip. "Get out, Nealon. Now."
Nealon fled, her tears scattering like shattered pearls.
Alone, Krelious gripped the bedpost until the wood splintered. "Damn it!" he roared. "Betrayal? When she fucks other races? I am only doing this to secure our very existence!"
He whirled, bellowing into the void: "Messenger! MESSENGER!"
The servant materialized, shaking. "Y-yes, my Lord?"
"Tell Sted to come to my bedchamber. Immediately."
"At once, my Lord." The messenger vanished, grateful to escape the storm.
The Receiver's Gambit.
Far across the Reveiverse, in a palace of liquid gold, Azarel knelt before Carel, her wings folded in reverence.
"My Lord," she murmured, "we have accomplished all your orders."
Carel traced her jawline with a claw. "That is good. Tonight, you will sleep in my chambers."
Azarel's breath hitched. "Yes, my Lord."
"Take off your clothes," Carel commanded, "while I give out a message."
Azarel obeyed, her skin
gleaming in the candlelight as Carel strode into the hall.
"King Saga!" His voice shook the pillars.
The king appeared, bowing low. "My Lord, what do you need?"
"Prepare 10,000 troops—strong, ruthless. I depart with them in two days."
"It will be done."
Carel returned to find Azarel draped across his bed, more radiant than the last moonrise.
"Wow," he murmured, "you're even more beautiful than before."
Azarel smiled. "Thank you, my Lord."
Carel shed his robes, and the night dissolved into heat and hunger.
NEXT CHAPTER ✓
ACT 8: THE BROKEN LAW AND THE MEETING.