The air was thick with the scent of ash and blood.
Lucien stood amidst the ruins of the Syndicate Citadel, the weight of his victory pressing heavily on his shoulders. His brother's body—now nothing more than a broken shell—lay at his feet. The gate was gone, its power shattered with Sebastian's final breath. But even with the dust of destruction settling around him, Lucien couldn't shake the feeling that the battle was far from over.
He turned toward Isla, who stood a few feet away, wiping blood from her blade. Her expression was unreadable—just like always. But beneath that calm exterior, Lucien could see the storm of emotions swirling in her eyes.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Isla didn't answer right away. Instead, she glanced at him, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Then, with a small nod, she sheathed her weapon.
"We're alive," she said simply. "For now."
"Yeah," Lucien agreed. "For now."
The silence stretched between them, the weight of everything they had fought for settling in. The war was over, and yet, the world felt emptier than ever. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn apart in the wake of the final battle. The threads of fate had been severed, and now there was nothing left to hold it all together.
Kaelis approached, her armor battered but her eyes resolute. "The last of the Syndicate's forces have scattered. We've won, Lucien."
Lucien nodded but didn't feel the sense of triumph he thought he would. It wasn't enough. There was still something missing, some unfinished business that gnawed at his soul.
"What's next?" Isla asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts.
Lucien turned to face her. "We rebuild," he said, his voice low. "But this time, we do it right."
Kaelis tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"The Syndicate wasn't the end of it. It's just the beginning," Lucien said, his voice hardening. "We've taken down their gate, but the threads they control still exist. The corruption still festers. There are more gates out there—more worlds we haven't even touched yet."
He turned away from them, looking toward the horizon. "This was never just about revenge. It was about taking control of the universe itself."
Isla was quiet for a long time, her eyes fixed on his back. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Lucien, you're talking about becoming a god."
Lucien didn't turn to face her. He didn't need to. He already knew what she would say.
"Yes," he said simply. "I'm talking about becoming a god."
The words hung heavy in the air. And for the first time since his reincarnation, Lucien felt a deep, unsettling truth settle within him. This was what he was meant for. This was what the threads of fate had been leading him toward all along.
But even as the realization settled within him, something else stirred deep inside—a doubt, a flicker of something that whispered that power came at a terrible price. And Lucien was no stranger to paying that price.
"You've become everything they wanted you to be," Isla said softly. "But at what cost?"
The question lingered between them like a specter, and Lucien knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his life.
But for now, there was only one thing left to do. The war was over. The path ahead was uncertain. And yet, Lucien couldn't deny the pull of destiny that urged him forward.
"We move forward," he said finally. "And we prepare for what's next."
With that, he turned and walked away from the ruins of the Syndicate Citadel. The future awaited him. Whether it was a god's path or the shattered remnants of a man's soul, Lucien would find his way. He had no choice.
And neither did the universe.
The gate was gone. But the war was far from over.