She remembered the sky that bled over their final stand, and for a moment, she wondered if she'd died there—if everything since was just her soul refusing to collapse.
—PLANET XEUNUS—
One Month Ago.
The sky was wrong.
Above the broken peaks of Xeunus, a cracked, blood-washed moon hung like a dying eye—casting a crimson veil across the remnants of a war camp that had forgotten what peace felt like. Fires smoldered in the dust. Ash fell like snow.
Steel clicked in trembling hands.
Only 150 Sunphan warriors remained—wounded, hollow, carved from the ashes of a genocide. They stood in a half-circle beneath the ghostlight, clutching rusted blades and the last scraps of conviction.
There was no hope.
Only defiance.
Xenos stood near the front, arms crossed, flames coiling slightly beneath his skin like serpents waiting to strike. His gaze was forward. Focused. Unshaken.
Beside him, Union scanned the forest where the stars no longer shined. Her eyes narrowed—not with fear, but calculation.
They did not speak.
But their silence spoke for them.
This was the end.
And still—no one knew of the power they wielded.
Then…
A voice broke the stillness.
Worn. Sharp. Unyielding.
"We number three hundred. Half of you can still fight. There are no reinforcements. No escape. The Moonkin will strike again—soon. Likely tonight."
The old general's words echoed across the shattered plaza.
No one cried out.
No one begged.
Because clarity had replaced fear.
They all understood what this was.
Their final stand.
Union's voice cut low—calm, clipped.
"Xenos… do you see that?"
Across the scorched valley, past the dead forest's skeletons—
A silhouette stood still.
It wasn't Moonkin. It wasn't demon. And yet—it was watching.
Not as a participant… but as a witness. As if it had seen this extinction before.
No aura. No movement. Just presence.
And pure divinity.
Its head tilted slightly, as if regarding them from some unknowable place between time and judgment.
Xenos stepped forward, instinct flaring.
"That's not one of us…"
Then they came.
The Swarm.
Thousands of demonic entities exploded from behind the figure—spider-limbed horrors, winged monstrosities, giants made of bone and hate. Their shrieks split the sky, and their momentum cracked the earth. These weren't the demonic creatures we know in history today. These were demons capable of killing even a god on the level of Xenos and Union.
And still—the divine silhouette did nothing.
It simply faded into smoke.
The wave hit.
The Sunphan line shattered. Screams tore through the air. Fire bloomed. Bodies fell like stars cast from heaven.
It wasn't a battle.
It was execution.
"THEY'RE HERE!"
The commander roared.
And the Sunphan charged.
But these weren't ordinary soldiers.
These were the Cindervow—the scorched fists of Xeunus.
Trained in godfire. Tempered by extinction. Feared even by the Moonkin's supernatural elite—the Choirs Eclipse.
—
Long ago, when Xenos and Union were only mere children, the Cindervow had caught the attention of two ancient gods:
Ukrus, God of Flame.
Varos, God of Space.
Both had seen the fury in the Sunphan people—and saw two souls burn brighter than the rest.
Xenos and Union Holgata.
Now, standing in the wreckage of the old world, Union clenched her fists beside her brother.
A presence approached behind them—
Xerciies Holgata, their father. Third in command. His eyes like worn steel, his longblade sheathed across his back.
"The others don't see it," Xerciies said. "They think this is still the Moonkin's doing. But it's not. I don't know what's coming… but it's not of this world."
Xenos's jaw tensed. His flames twitched, restless beneath the skin.
"Then say it, Father. Say what this really is."
Xerciies didn't respond.
He simply turned to the doorway—paused—and looked over his shoulder.
"Stay out of this one. I've lived long enough to know when death is speaking. And this… this might be our last dance."
Union's breath hitched.
But Xenos took a step forward.
"Wait—"
Xerciies turned back one last time—his gaze locking with his son's.
"If I don't return… protect your sister. No matter the cause."
And then—he vanished into the inferno.
And when the sky bled and the ground burned, when the air was filled with screams, fire, and the smell of melted iron—every Sunphan knew:
This wasn't war.
It was extinction.
—DEEP WITHIN THE LABYRINTH OF PYRAETH | THE CITADEL OF FAILURE—
Union's eyes shot open.
Darkness. Cold stone. Echoes of blood.
She sat up, disoriented. Xenos's words rang through her skull like ash on wind.
"If you can't handle the chaos, then go back to Xeunus."
She lowered her head. Her fists clenched.
"Xenos…"
Her voice was bitter. But quiet.
"After everything we survived—after what we lost—you still talk to me like I lack any potential. Just like father…"
She closed her eyes. A single memory of their father rose—his hand on Xenos shoulder in the distance. The two completely oblivious to Union.
"I thought… maybe we found each other again. After you left for the war—Xenos grew distant and vowed to slaughter the remaining Moonkin. And then… the only thread still connecting us—our mother—died slowly. And after that…
…I faded from the world you two shared."
Union exhaled, hard.
But there was no time for grief.
The Labyrinth pulsed.
She stood.
Alone.
Surrounded by flickering stone and crawling heat. And somewhere, not far off—something had started to awaken.
The air grew heavier.
From the far end of the corridor, a sound broke the stillness—not a roar, not a hiss, but a low, wet scraping. Flesh against stone. Claws carving history into walls that no longer remembered mercy.
Union turned slowly.
There, rising from the gloom, was not a beast
—but a hunger given form.
Towering, leaner than the beast Xenos is up against, it moved like it had no bones, only instinct. Its skin was strung with sinew and voidthread, stitched together by the echoes of tortured souls. No eyes. No mouth. Just a mask of warped obsidian with glowing cracks that pulsed like a dying star—focused entirely on her.
Unions body slightly retreated. But she remembered Xenos… their father.
A lasting image of Xenos following him to the battlefield and leaving her behind.
"No—this time… I won't coware away. I'll show him. I'll show every last god—what I'm capable of."
The creature lunged, faster than thought, its movements rabid and unhinged—as if the concept of patience had been ripped from its being. Clawed limbs shattered the floor behind it. Each motion tore the very air apart.
Unions body slightly took a deep breath.
"Varos."
Union's arm raised on instinct.
The powerful aura from the old god of space returned.
And Union became focused on one thing only.
Domination.
Stone split.
Flames flickered.
The Labyrinth watched.
And in that moment—
Using the remnants of Varos's godhood, Union stripped herself from her inner doubts.
She met the creature half way—center of the citadel, her eyes shimmering with the cosmos. A power inside that is not fully hers.
SINGULARITY DRIFT.
Instead of dodging traditionally, Union collapsed the space between two points—stepping across the citadel and past the beast instantly while appearing to barely move.
Unlike teleportation, this doesn't require portals—it's space folding around her.
An elegant escape tool and perfect for baiting overcommitment.
The beast sent a powerful slashing-strike to where Union once was. The wind from the slash cutting through the ground. Union, from behind landed a spinning roundhouse kick to the beast neck—increasing the gravity behind the attack.
The beast took a few steps back then smirked.
GRAVITY LASH.
The creature suddenly formed tendrils from the voidthread in its skin, each one condensing localized gravity around a limb or object—causing weapons to bend, air to collapse, and movement to slow unnaturally.
The beast summoned a black spear from celestial flame with a tip so dense it glowed violet. It floated above the creatures hand as the properties of Gravity Lash, infused itself within it.
The beast chuckled then…
It spoke.
A dark, ancient, sadistic tone that held the voice of not just those who doubted her, but her own voice that doubted herself.
"Now… let's start your death properly."
Varos's words rung through Unions brain.
"MOVE!"
ECHO FRAME.
A luminous "after-image" of Union stepped forward while the real one pivoted around the spear. Her afterimage disoriented the beast, letting her re-approach from blind angles.
She reappeared behind the beast and went for a devastating palm strike.
One more blow. One more inch closer to proving she belonged.
SHHK—THNK!
The beast moved at impossible speeds.
Dodging her strike and countering by thrusting the spear right through her side. Sending condense gravity into a needlepoint that pierces through even the armor of a god and folds the mightiest of shields inward. The further the target, the greater the pull toward the tip.
And so—there was no escape…
Her breath caught.
The spear hummed inside her—both a chorus of pain and collapsing weight, like a black hole gnawing at her ribs.
"It's always the cocky ones that die first," the creature whispered, its voice closer now, right behind her ear—though its body hadn't moved.
The Labyrinth groaned.
The very walls trembled, watching her fall.
Union's knees buckled, but her eyes… they didn't close.
Her hand twitched.
"Not yet."
She rotated her shoulder—agonizing inches—forcing the spear to shift inside her wound.
The beast smiled, expecting surrender.
But space shimmered again.
Not folding. Not fleeing. But fighting.
A ripple.
"You shouldn't have stood so close."
With her hand trembling, Union ignited a micro-gravitational fold inside the spear wound. Not to escape, but to invert the space around the spearhead. The weapon didn't exit but instead teleported backward, violently inside the beast own chest.
GRAVITATIONAL REVERSAL: EVENT FOLD.
The beast was blasted across the ground but recovered quickly. Letting off a low monotone growl.
But Union was relentless.
Approaching with a speed amplified by the gravity around her—Union changed angles quickly and struck the beast in every blind spot given.
Koken Uchi. Shuto Uchi. Tai Chi blended with Wing Chun.
She flowed with her strikes.
Showing no signs of sloppiness and finishing the chain with a powerful Ippon Nukite to the core of the beast. Sending a gravitational signal that sunk deep into the beast biology.
It was sent skidding across the ground. Its feet dragging through the ground of the citadel. The beast prepared for a follow up but it didn't come.
"As expected." It said with a malevolent grin.
Union remained in her position—her stance glued to the ground.
"Patience. If I can remain still and let it come to me—I can use its strength against it.
The beast rose and lifted its finger lazily. Union felt uneasy as she could feel the aura wrapped around the tip of the beast finger.
"What is it planning…"
CHHK—SSSHHHHRRRM.
SINGE-POINT CATACLYSM.
A beam of concentrated gravitational collapse, shot from the beast finger so narrow that it carved through layers of matter like divine surgery.
Moving faster than anything Union could have anticipated. She used Singularity Drift, to dodge the attack but the moment she appeared, the beast was just mere feet away.
It summoned two short, bone-hilted daggers infused with time-dilated gravity.
Union did her best to defend but it was no use. Each strike sent delayed shockwaves—so even missed slashes erupt in gravitational bursts seconds later.
CHT-CHT-CHT…THHHHHHHHMMM!
Her body began to slow.
The mere feeling of taking a breath felt like a dagger in the side.
And she went from a lively lit candle, to a fading flame.
The beast quickly switched to two twin-curved blades maid from voidthread—being able to cut gravitational anchors and remove Union's spatial reference points and making her techniques fail or misfire. Along with the ability to sever part of a folded space mid-technique, making her teleport to where IT desired.
With that being straight into its attacks.
The blades edges rippling like black oil with flickers of dying stars.
The beast outmaneuvered, Union, and performed an inside trip followed by a slash that cut through her chest plate.
Her back hit the ground heavy.
The blade arced down—not with fury, but with the certainty of history being fulfilled. It was not a killing blow. It was a correction…
SHHHHHHK-KRAAAAM—CHINGGG!!
Space collapsed inward, any existing light within the labyrinth bled backward, and time itself flinched. The blade, once seen as the executioner of Unions life—made contact.
But not with her.
It connected with the shoulder of something much… much more powerful than anything within the labyrinth.
It didn't stop.
It shattered.
The beast's smirk froze.
Takagi Akuma.
The one capable of leveling the entire labyrinth with a mere breath.
He stood between them, head tilted slightly, silver eyes unreadable.
"Touch her again—"
His aura flared, folding the world inward.
"—and I'll fold your existence so many times, even death won't recognize you."
—THE THRONE OF VEILED DIVINITY—
The great, colossal doors did not open.
They parted.
As if the throne itself had known he was coming.
Ishiro, The God Of Destiny.
He stepped inside, slow and measured. Not because he feared what waited, but because the weight of what he carried made haste feel blasphemous. His boots echoed against the obsidian floor, each step tracing a line between rage and restraint.
The room was enormous, yet quiet.
Silent in the way that made sound feel unwelcome.
The room looked different from the time Xenos and Union arrived. This is because the palace will sometimes undergo restructuring if the previous was thought to be too useless against *other* entities.
Above Ishiro stretched a ceiling of cracked constellations—false stars woven into the marble like stitched memories. The air shimmered with divine heat, not warmth, but pressure. As if creation itself held its breath here.
The only similarity was the throne. It sat far at the end, raised high upon a spiraling stair of broken light.
It wasn't carved from gold or stone. It looked sculpted from memory—shifting, flickering, like the past rewriting itself to keep the present comfortable. A mirage crowned in brilliance. Beautiful. Hollow.
Suzuro sat upon it like he always had.
Unmoved.
Untouched.
Unbothered by the fires he commanded others to walk through.
The scent of blood still clung to Ishiro. Not his own. Not divine.
Mortal. Innocent.
He'd scrubbed his hands a dozen times, but the stains weren't on his skin—they were etched into his soul.
Etched by the order of Ariel & Theo—the very gods of the order.
"By decree of Ariel and Theo, the Twin Gods of Order, let it be known to into creation:
"No god shall raise their hand against mortal blood,
unless that mortal stands as a harbinger of galactic ruin.
For the power of the divine is bound to balance,
and to strike beneath that balance is to fracture eternity.
He who breaks this law shall be judged in crimson light,
and branded with the Mark of Reckoning,
forever named among the fallen."
Even questioning a being like Suzuro wasn't rebellion.
It was prophecy begging to be unwritten.
"You lied."
Ishiro stopped before the first step.
Eyes sharp. Voice colder.
Suzuro didn't look surprised. Not even disappointed. As if guilt had long since been traded for control.
Ishiro stepped closer, his voice quieter now, laced with venom.
"You sit above judgment… but I've buried gods more righteous than you."
A pause.
"Tell me, Suzuro… when did you stop pretending your throne wasn't built on bones?"
At that line, Suzuro smirked—but not with joy. It was a smirk of a god who feels something stir beneath his restraint.
He doesn't move…
But something to that lies calmly on the side of the throne shimmers. A great-sword.
The Eternal Blade.
A sword capable of cutting right through his Godhood. Shifting slightly—its hilt twitching as if it heard its name.
Ishiros lip quivered—his words held back as his aura banged against his body like a caged animal.
But he already knew the consequences.
He was the god of destiny.
"Why did you make me do it?"
Suzuro stood and began to walk towards Ishiro.
His presence ever so menacing yet calm with each stride,
"And why do you think I should tell you? Am i obligated to cite you in on the information you tell me? No. What I do—what I plan, is to be only grasps by my knowledge."
Suzuro then stopped just a few feet away from Ishiro—
—then released a fraction of his aura.
It came like a breath.
Not a roar, not a flash.
Just a quiet shift in the air—so slight it could have been a heartbeat skipping.
But Ishiro felt it.
A pull behind the lungs.
A tightness in the spine.
He staggered back—only a step, but it felt like miles.
The floor beneath his boots didn't crack.
It begged.
Pressure filled the throne room, but not like weight—it was sheer command.
The kind of presence that didn't ask to be acknowledged.
It reminded you that you were made of lesser things.
Bones, time, memory.
All of those could be rewritten at a whim.
The air should've smelled like death. Like smoke. Like the children he couldn't save. But here it was clean.
Too clean.
As if Suzuro had erased even the memory of the massacre.
Ishiro clenched his fists, nails digging into flesh.
It didn't help.
His Godhood winced.
His soul wanted to kneel.
And he hated that it did.
Suzuro didn't move.
Didn't speak.
But his gaze shifted—
and that was enough.
Time staggered.
A crack appeared along one of the constellations above.
Not the stone—
the memory of the star it represented.
Ishiro's breath hitched.
His eyes watered—not from fear, but from truth.
This is what it means to rule.
Not power.
Not brutality.
But presence so vast the Omniverse rewrites its posture around you.
He swallowed hard, voice dry.
"…That's not your full aura."
Suzuro's smile was faint.
Patient.
Dangerous.
"No, Ishiro. That was a warning."
And the room, once still, suddenly felt too small for a god like him.
That's when he saw it.
For half a second, his body broken beneath the throne. His name erased from every timeline but one.
Suzuro turned. Slowly. Without another word. He ascended the spiral of broken light, each step echoing like time itself resetting. When he sat, the room felt colder. Quieter. Not empty—expectant.
Ishiro stood in the center, as if on trial before a memory too vast to argue with.
"I have another task for you."
The words made the god of destiny's heart sink.
"Takagi Akuma…"
A spark flickered in Ishiro's chest, something shamefully close to relief.
Maybe Suzuro had changed his mind. Maybe this was mercy disguised as command.
Maybe destiny could still be kind.
"…I need you to face him."
And in that moment, Ishiro understood—he would not walk away from this as a servant of destiny, but as its executioner. Whatever fate Suzuro had in mind,
It would not be written in prophecy…
To Be Continued…