The sky tore open like paper ignited from within.
Five divine figures streaked across the heavens, each trailing a different aura—light, void, flame, time, and rebirth. Together, they weren't just gods. They were the blades of judgment, the final hand of the divine.
Rael stood motionless on the shattered battleground of Arcallis—the floating ruins of an ancient war once hidden from mortal eyes. Stone pillars levitated like frozen lightning bolts, and shattered relics of past empires drifted in weightless silence.
Then the first to descend was Zaruth, the War God, his body clad in crimson iron, wielding a colossal hammer forged from dying suns.
> "Rael," he growled, landing with the force of a meteor, "I'll give you no sermon. Just a grave."
Rael didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
> "Good," he said. "I'm tired of sermons."
Zaruth didn't wait. With a deafening roar, he charged.
His hammer came down like the wrath of all creation—turning the air into plasma and shattering the floating stones into dust. But the instant it would have touched Rael's head—
Nullfire bent space.
Rael sidestepped without moving, time flickering around him like a dying candle. He raised his hand—and grasped the head of Zaruth's hammer mid-swing.
It cracked.
> "You fight for a heaven that built its throne on sacrifice," Rael whispered.
"I fight for something heaven forgot."
Zaruth swung again, and again—each blow faster, more ferocious. His war cry echoed with memories of a thousand victories. But each time, Rael dodged without effort, like reality was bending around him.
> "You used to be mortal!" Zaruth shouted, voice laced with disbelief.
"What are you now?"
Rael's eyes gleamed.
> "The answer to your worst fear."
With a flash, Nullfire surged—spreading through the stone, the hammer, and even the air itself.
Zaruth blinked—
And in the next moment, his arm was gone.
> "Wha—?"
Rael appeared behind him.
> "You won't need that where you're going."
He drove a blade of condensed null-energy through the war god's spine.
Zaruth roared, divine blood exploding from his mouth. He turned, swung one last time—
And Rael caught the blow barehanded.
> "Fall."
Rael unleashed a pulse of pure erasure—and Zaruth's form shattered, dissolving into fragments of light and armor.
The first god was dead.
---
Above, the other four gods hesitated.
Mythra clenched her fists.
> "He didn't just kill Zaruth… He unmade him."
Ilaen adjusted the gears of his time-forged staff.
> "We must be precise. Any mistake could fracture the timeline or worse…"
Veyrn whispered in a voice colder than space itself:
> "Then let's not make any."
They began their descent.
---
Below, Rael turned his gaze upward.
His voice, soft as dusk, carried across the battlefield.
> "Next."
The battlefield trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of what was approaching.
Two gods descended side by side, their presence folding space and thought.
Mythra, Goddess of Light and Memory—her radiant wings shimmered with every memory ever lived. She wore no armor, only a flowing white veil, her eyes glowing like twin suns.
Ilaen, God of Time—drifting beside her, cloaked in broken gears and flowing timelines, his face hidden behind a silver mask that ticked with every passing second.
Rael stepped back, his breath cold and sharp. The air rippled—not from heat, but from the unraveling of cause and effect.
> "Ilaen," Rael muttered. "You manipulate time like a toy."
"And Mythra… you twist memories to control truth."
Ilaen raised his staff.
> "You've caused too many fractures already, mortal."
"This ends now."
Mythra spoke next, her voice both beautiful and terrible:
> "Your heart is soaked in sorrow, Rael. Let me take it from you. Let me give you peace."
Rael's expression flickered—just for a moment. But then it hardened.
> "Peace?" he said.
"I buried peace the day you erased her."
A scream of light ripped across the battlefield as Mythra struck first.
She didn't attack his body—she struck his mind.
Rael froze as visions flooded his eyes:
A burning village.
A crying child.
Her voice, begging.
Her death… again… and again…
Mythra forced his soul to relive every failure. Every heartbreak. Every regret.
> "Let the pain overwhelm you," she whispered. "Lay down your vengeance."
But Rael smiled.
> "You think I forgot the pain?"
A wave of black flame surged from within him—burning through the illusions like fire through paper. His memories returned—but he welcomed them.
> "Every scar made me who I am. You cannot break what's already shattered."
He launched forward—but time froze.
Ilaen pointed his staff, and Rael was trapped in a bubble of distorted time.
> "He's frozen in a fragment-loop," Ilaen said. "He'll relive this second until eternity breaks."
Mythra exhaled.
> "Then it's over."
But in the silence—
A crack appeared in the time-loop.
Ilaen's eyes widened.
> "Impossible…"
Rael moved inside the freeze.
> "I've already seen this moment."
Nullfire burned through time.
Rael tore through the bubble like ripping silk. In one move, he launched forward—straight at Mythra.
Mythra raised her hands, flooding the air with golden chains of memory—
But Rael didn't dodge.
He let the chains pierce him.
> "You want my memories? Then take them."
He surged forward, impaling himself to get close—and drove Nullfire through her chest.
Mythra gasped—not from pain, but from the sheer weight of his memories pouring into her.
She saw everything.
His life.
His love.
The promise.
The moment she died.
> "You… you loved her more than life itself…"
Rael whispered, cold and steady:
> "I still do."
He stepped back.
Mythra collapsed, her divine form flickering, overwhelmed by human love too raw, too real, too infinite.
Light shattered. She was gone.
Ilaen stood alone.
He looked at Rael—and for the first time in millennia, Time hesitated.
> "I should rewind this," Ilaen said. "I could stop this from ever beginning."
Rael lifted his blade.
> "Try."
Time surged—countless futures splintered, timelines collapsed, paradoxes spawned—
But none of them worked.
Every thread Rael touched, he severed.
He no longer followed the timeline.
He rewrote it.
> "Even time obeys me now," Rael said.
He raised his hand—and Ilaen began to age.
Not physically. Cosmically.
Ilaen screamed as millennia collapsed into seconds. He saw his future—his death—his legacy reduced to dust.
> "This… This is blasphemy…"
Rael whispered one word:
> "No. This is a promise."
With a final pulse, time shattered. Ilaen's staff broke, and with it, the god of time vanished.
Rael exhaled—his breath trembling.
Three down.
Two left.
The sky dimmed—not from clouds or nightfall, but from the overwhelming presence of something far beyond mortal comprehension.
Aetherion descended.
He was neither man nor god in appearance—but something caught between starfire and storm. His body shimmered with galaxies, veins pulsing with nebulae. Each step echoed like a supernova collapsing.
Rael, standing amidst the corpses of gods and silence of time, did not flinch.
> "Aetherion..." he muttered. "The so-called First Light."
Aetherion did not speak at first. He hovered above the battlefield, divine energy bleeding from his form like an endless aurora.
Then, a voice—soft but containing infinite weight—reverberated through every atom:
> "You were a mistake… but not your power."
"Give it back, Rael. Return what was never meant to be yours."
Rael looked up, unfazed.
> "A mistake…?"
"Then maybe it's time your creation paid for it."
Aetherion extended his hand—and the stars screamed.
Thousands of celestial swords materialized in the sky. Each was forged from collapsed stars, named after virtues the gods once claimed to uphold.
They rained down.
Rael sprinted—not away, but forward, weaving through the onslaught.
The air shimmered. One blade sliced past his cheek, leaving a thin trail of starlight instead of blood.
> "You're not here to punish me," Rael shouted. "You're here because you're afraid."
Aetherion descended at last, landing silently. The grass beneath his feet burned into cosmic ash.
> "I am here," he said, "to restore the balance your love shattered."
Rael's eyes narrowed. That word. That lie again.
Love. Shattered.
He raised Nullfire, and it pulsed—this time, with not just vengeance… but grief barely held back.
They clashed.
One was the embodiment of order and stars. The other, chaos birthed from pain.
Every strike Rael made rewrote physical laws. Every strike Aetherion made tried to restore them.
Explosions ruptured reality.
Mountains split. Oceans boiled. Space bent.
Rael finally feinted left—then spun and struck Aetherion's chest.
The blade struck—but only fractured the divine skin.
Aetherion retaliated, hurling Rael backward with a nova-burst. Rael crashed through a ridge, buried under stone.
But as the dust settled, he stood again.
Breathing. Bleeding. Laughing.
> "You call yourself a god," Rael said, limping forward. "But I've bled more than you ever dared to feel."
Aetherion's body flickered—his celestial form rippling with the first signs of strain.
> "You will fall," he whispered, voice no longer proud—just tired. "And no one will remember why you fought."
Rael looked up at him, and said simply:
> "I don't need them to remember me…"
He raised Nullfire one last time for the day.
> "I just need you to never forget her."
And then he charged—
Rael surged forward, each stride tearing the ground beneath his feet.
Nullfire gleamed—not with hatred, but with the ache of remembrance.
Aetherion raised his hand again, forming a halo of blades, the sky shuddering under divine command. They spun, orbiting him like judgment incarnate.
> "This is your final chance, Rael."
"Kneel, and I will erase your pain."
Rael didn't slow.
> "If you could erase it," he growled, "it never mattered in the first place."
He leapt.
Blades crashed against him—one tore into his shoulder, another grazed his ribs—but he kept moving. Bleeding, breaking, burning… but never stopping.
He reached Aetherion.
Nullfire clashed with starlight.
The shockwave that followed flattened forests miles away. Space warped. Reality hiccupped.
But amidst the blinding light, Rael saw something—just for a second.
A flicker in Aetherion's eyes. Regret.
> "You… remember her too, don't you?" Rael whispered, voice shaking.
Aetherion faltered.
> "I remember… the way you wept when she died."
"But you weren't the only one who loved her."
Silence.
And then—
> "What… did you say?"
Aetherion stepped back. For the first time, his form shimmered—not from power, but instability.
> "She wasn't yours alone, Rael."
"She was part of the divine plan. Her death… was the spark we needed to keep the world in balance."
Rael's expression collapsed. Fury was replaced with something far more dangerous.
Despair.
> "So you let her die… because your 'balance' demanded it?"
Aetherion said nothing.
Rael lowered Nullfire slightly, his voice suddenly hollow.
> "You gods… you never loved her. You used her."
Then, he laughed—slowly, bitterly.
> "And I killed every last one of you… thinking it was just my grief."
He raised Nullfire once more, a silent vow trembling in his grip.
> "Now it's no longer about grief. It's justice."
He lunged again—this time faster, more precise, with the kind of focus that only comes from truth and heartbreak intertwined.
Aetherion responded—but slower.
Rael wasn't just fighting now.
He was executing judgment.
Blow after blow pushed Aetherion back. Cosmic shields cracked. Divine blood spilled.
And with each strike, memories flashed—of her laugh, her warmth, her final breath.
He struck again—
> "She believed in peace," Aetherion pleaded. "Not vengeance."
> "She believed in me," Rael snarled, "and you stole her for your cause."
Nullfire pierced Aetherion's side, and he screamed—not in pain, but in sorrow.
> "You were never the villain, Rael…" Aetherion whispered as he dropped to one knee.
"We made you into one."
Aetherion fell to one knee, golden ichor spilling across the scorched earth like a dying constellation.
Above them, the skies no longer shimmered with divine order. The stars flickered… as if uncertain of which side to illuminate.
Rael stood over him, chest heaving, Nullfire trembling in his hand—no longer from exhaustion, but from the weight of realization.
> "You made me a monster," Rael muttered. "And now you ask me to show mercy?"
Aetherion raised his head, divine form fading with every breath. His voice, once the chorus of galaxies, now barely a whisper.
> "Not for me... for her."
That name—that memory—pierced deeper than any blade.
Rael's fingers clenched.
> "Don't speak her name," he growled. "You lost that right the day you let her die for your design."
Aetherion coughed, stardust escaping his lips.
> "She chose it… Rael. We all did. We believed in sacrifice."
Rael's silence cracked like glass.
> "Then you all deserved to die."
He raised Nullfire one last time.
Aetherion closed his eyes—not in fear, but in understanding.
And with a final cry of rage and sorrow tangled together, Rael drove the blade down.
The sky shattered.
Light exploded from Aetherion's chest, racing across the heavens. Every divine seal broke. Every law etched in the stars unraveled.
The last god had fallen.
For a moment, all was still.
Then… the sky turned black—not with death, but with freedom. The chains of divine control had broken. The world was no longer ruled from the stars.
Rael stood amidst the crumbling ruins of gods.
Alone.
Victorious.
Empty.
The wind whispered her name. A memory… a promise made long ago beneath a mortal moon.
> "When she died… I promised myself… I'd make a world where she exists."
He looked at the horizon.
There was no throne for him.
Only a world to build.
A world no god would ever touch again.