Saki strode through the long, dimly lit corridors of the castle, her footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls. Behind her, as usual, followed Meliae, her presence both comforting and slightly irritating at the same time. Saki, though accustomed to Meliae’s quiet company, sometimes felt the weight of it, like an unspoken obligation. Without turning back, she muttered, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance.
“Why do you keep following me, Meliae? Haven’t you got something better to do?”
Meliae, a step behind, blinked, seemingly confused. “I’m not following you on purpose,” she replied softly, her voice almost apologetic. “It’s just… besides Typhon, you’re the only person I can talk to.”
Saki knew this well. Meliae was like a foreign fish, thrown into a vast and unfamiliar ocean. Still, it didn't stop the occasional irritation from surfacing, though she kept it mostly to herself. She could sense Meliae’s struggle to adapt—an outsider tossed into the complexities of the Demon Lord’s realm.
The silence stretched between them for a moment before Meliae’s curiosity got the better of her, her mind still stuck on the meeting they had just left. “Saki… what is this *Northern Castle* that Lilith mentioned?”
Saki didn’t answer at first. Her eyes flickered with a flash of sarcasm. “ were you not paying attention to that rant?” she scoffed, referring to Lilith with obvious disdain.
Meliae shook her head, embarrassed. “I could barely keep up with everything going on…”
Saki stole a glance at her, almost imperceptibly. There was something innocent about Meliae’s confusion. After a sigh, Saki gave in. “The Northern Castle, *Tartesso*, was once part of the Great Empire of this land. It was conquered by the Demon Lord upon his awakening and entrusted to Circe.”
Meliae listened intently, absorbing every word, though her curiosity hadn’t been fully satisfied yet. She hesitated before asking, “What was the name of the land before it was taken by the Demon Lord?”
Saki went silent, her steps slowing slightly as if processing the question. Meliae immediately regretted asking, her heart tightening with the sudden tension. Had she overstepped her bounds? But then, Saki finally spoke, her tone softer, almost distant.
“Heian-kyo.”
Meliae’s eyes widened in shock as the name left Saki’s lips. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the land, though not because she had set foot there. No, the memory of *Heian-kyo* was embedded deep within her, connected to something ancient and vast within her soul.
Saki noticed her reaction, giving a quiet smirk. “It’s not surprising you’d recognize it. The *—the Sacred Tree—has roots that stretch far beyond this realm. Its influence… let’s just say, it breaks through barriers even apostles themselves couldn’t hold.”
“Yggdrasil knows every realm, even those that exist outside of our so-called ‘fictional’ reality.”
The weight of Saki’s words pressed down on Meliae, her mind spinning once again, struggling to grasp the full meaning. Saki glanced at her, seeing her lost expression. “You’re just a newborn receptacle. In time, you’ll come to understand your true self.”
The last part was almost whispered, as if Saki were speaking more to herself than to Meliae. There was an undercurrent of something personal, something unspoken, but it passed as quickly as it came.
As they walked, they reached a vast room filled with ancient books and mysterious artifacts, the castle’s the research department. Scholars in deep blue robes moved between the shelves, their attention focused on the arcane objects they studied. The scent of parchment and magic filled the air, the atmosphere heavy with scholarly dedication.
Meliae’s eyes widened at the sight of the scholars, the room bustling with knowledge seekers of various origins. “Were they… saved by the Demon King as well?” she asked, her tone curious.
“Saved?” Saki muttered under her breath, her tone doubtful. “*Iie*. They weren’t saved. They were crafted by the Demon Lord and brought to life.”
“Crafted?” Meliae’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Saki nodded, her voice calm but firm. “Except for Apostles and a few elite warriors, the rest were created by the Demon Lord according to his whims and preferences. They don’t have souls like you or me.”
“Oh…,” Meliae whispered, just as her stomach let out a loud growl, the sound echoing awkwardly in the quiet library. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she tried to cover it, but it was too late.
Saki raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Looks like you need to eat. You’ve used too much energy these past few days.”
Without much thought, Saki picked up a nearby sheet of parchment from a table and began sketching a crude map. After some hasty lines and a few squares representing different rooms, she handed it to Meliae. “Here. That’s the kitchen. You should find something to calm your *beast* there.”
Meliae blinked in surprise. “*Beast*?” The word caught her off guard, making her wonder what Saki meant.
“Don’t worry,” Saki added with a smirk. “Just get something to eat.”
As Meliae took the map, she hesitated before asking, “Aren’t you going to eat too? I haven’t seen you drink or eat anything… except for those cigarettes you’re always smoking.”
Saki’s expression shifted, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “I’m an Apostle. We don’t need to eat or drink. Our bodies fuel themselves on —our magical energy.”
Somehow, Meliae understood. It reminded her of the time she had been sent to the boundaries of the universe, her body sustained only by her connection to the Sacred Tree. Without further questioning, she turned away, walking slowly down the corridor, her eyes focused on the map Saki had drawn.
As she walked, Saki’s words lingered in her mind—words that hinted at something deeper, something she had yet to fully understand about herself.Meliae stumbled through the castle’s twisting corridors, her focus on the map in her hands, only to realize she was no closer to the kitchen. She sighed, her hunger gnawing at her. Her feet took her outside, into the castle's vast yard. Confused, she looked around at the greenery and the towering stone walls. "*How did I get here?*" she thought, frowning.
Determined, Meliae retraced her steps back to what she thought was the starting point. Yet, again, she found herself lost, standing in a completely different part of the courtyard. Each turn felt like it led her in a circle, and after multiple failed attempts, her energy was completely drained. She was practically crawling across the ground, her vision blurring as her stomach let out another growl. It felt as though she was on the verge of collapse.
Just as her eyelids started to flutter, she noticed something in front of her—a flowing white dress, long and elegant. Meliae slowly lifted her head and saw a woman crouched before her, her face framed by golden locks and soft blue eyes.
"*Are you lost?*" the woman asked in a gentle, almost musical tone.
Meliae, too exhausted to speak, merely nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment. The woman glanced at the map in Meliae’s trembling hand and quickly understood the problem. "*No wonder you're lost,*" she said with a soft chuckle. "*This map is drawn in such a way that you'll always end up going in circles.*"
The woman’s observation made Meliae feel even more foolish. Before she could respond, her stomach growled loudly again, making the sound of her hunger impossible to hide. The woman’s cheeks reddened slightly, feeling second-hand embarrassment, while Meliae’s face turned a deep shade of red. She wanted to disappear into the floor.
"*You're looking for the kitchen, right?*" the woman asked with a kind smile. "*I can take you there.*"
Meliae’s eyes lit up with gratitude. "*Thanks you*" she said, her voice full of admiration as she finally felt a glimmer of hope. The woman stood up, gracefully extending her hand to help Meliae to her feet.
"*By the way, my name is Cecilia,*" the woman introduced herself. Meliae noticed a slight foreign accent in her Japanese, which intrigued her. Cecilia had striking blonde hair that shimmered in the light and clear blue eyes that felt like they could see straight through you. Her maid outfit was pristine and tailored perfectly to her slender figure.
Meliae recalled from Yggdrasil's sea of knowledge that such an outfit must be a *—a maid uniform. Despite her situation, Meliae couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly elegant Cecilia seemed in it.
As they walked side by side, exchanging casual words, Meliae felt an unexpected warmth in their conversation. Each word they shared felt vivid, real, and full of emotion. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Cecilia wasn’t like the soulless creations Saki had described. How could she be? The connection Meliae felt while speaking with her was genuine.
"*Saki mentioned that most of the people here—those without fighting skills—were crafted by the Demon King,*" Meliae thought to herself. "*But there's no way someone as lively as Cecilia is just an empty shell… right?*"
"*Here we are,*" Cecilia said with a bright smile, pointing toward the large wooden doors of the kitchen.
Meliae, lost in her own thoughts, almost missed her words. She blinked, surprised, and looked up. "*Ah, I’m sorry! Thank you so much for helping me!*" she said, bowing deeply in appreciation.
Cecilia waved her hand dismissively. "*It’s no big deal,*" she said, her tone light and playful as she motioned a casual goodbye. "*Take care, Meliae-chan.*"
Meliae watched as Cecilia disappeared back into the halls, her mind buzzing with questions. "*Cecilia... could she really be just a creation of the Demon Lord?*" she wondered. But for now, her hunger took precedence, and she stepped into the kitchen, her stomach reminding her loudly of the task at hand.Meliae gently pushed open the large wooden door of the kitchen, which creaked slightly as it swung inward. The room was lit by the warm glow of chandelier torches that hung from the ceiling, their flames flickering against the rough medieval stone walls. The space had a rustic charm, with wooden counters and shelves lined with various goods. Fruits and vegetables were piled high, while bundles of dried meats hung from hooks near the ceiling, their smoky scent filling the air.
In one corner of the kitchen, however, something completely out of place caught her eye—a sleek, modern refrigerator. Meliae’s eyes widened at the contrast. She quickly made her way over to it, curious about what it contained. Opening the fridge, she found it stocked with more familiar Japanese foods: pre-packaged instant noodles, drinks, and convenience-store-style meals. "*How did the Demon King get all this in such a broken world?*" she wondered, her mind spinning at the odd combination of medieval and modern.
After a moment of hesitation, her eyes landed on two options—*yakisoba* and *ramen*. She studied the packages, each equally tempting, but finally chose the *yakisoba*. Its packaging boasted a glossy image of stir-fried noodles coated in a rich, savoury sauce with vegetables and meat. The ramen, though appealing, couldn’t compete with the allure of the smoky and sweet-savoury flavour she craved.
---
Back in the research room, Saki sat at a large oak table in the corner, surrounded by stacks of old, dusty books. One particular volume lay open before her, its pages filled with strange patterns resembling summoning circles. The diagrams were intricate, lines spiralling into one another, like ancient witchcraft inscribed on parchment.
Suddenly, a soft thud sounded nearby—a hand gently slapped the floor, catching Saki’s attention. She looked up and smiled. "*Ah, Cecilia,*" she greeted, her tone playful. But Cecilia didn’t respond immediately, her blue eyes narrowing in mild disapproval. "*It was mean of you to play that prank on the kid,*" she said, referring to Meliae.
Saki glanced back at her book, trying to suppress a smile, though her gaze flickered to Cecilia’s chest. "*It was just a joke,*" Saki replied casually, poking at Cecilia's ample bosom with her feather quill. "*They’ve grown quite a bit since last time. Are you pregnant?*" she teased, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.
Cecilia instantly took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced at the book Saki had been reading. "*What are you researching this time?*" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"*Oh, just something about an ancient tree,*" Saki said nonchalantly, though her eyes remained on the pages. The designs seemed to pulse with energy, their meaning elusive yet profound.
Cecilia raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "*You’re hungry, aren’t you? Maybe you’re hoping I’ll cook something for you,*" she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, as if Saki were a spoiled child asking for more sweets.
"*I’m not your servant,*" Cecilia added with a playful huff.
"*Of course not, but you’re so good at it,*" Saki responded, her voice laced with irony as she flipped to the next page.
On the open page was a myth—a tree created by the gods, its roots spreading not just through the world but through all worlds, through dimensions beyond comprehension. "*The sacred tree encompasses all things, spiralling through worlds within worlds, diving into realms that break the very concept of the fourth wall, folding and unfolding reality itself in an infinite loop of metafiction and narrative collapse,*" Saki read aloud, her tone almost whimsical.
Beneath the illustration, the title was written: "*Sacred Tree of Life.*"
Cecilia, who had been reading over her shoulder, was speechless for a moment. "*What is this?*" she asked, her voice slightly shaken. "*Why are you looking into something so... convoluted?*"
Saki shrugged, closing the book with a thud. "*Curiosity, I suppose,*" she answered vaguely, stretching her arms as though she were dispelling the dizziness brought on by the book’s dense information.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small cigarette box, preparing to light one up. Cecilia sighed, her brows knitting together. "*You really should quit smoking already,*" she scolded, though her voice was softer this time, almost as if she understood why Saki needed the crutch.
"*It helps with the stress,*" Saki replied, her cigarette already lit, smoke curling from the tip. "*Besides, it’s not like I’ll die from it.*"
Cecilia frowned but said nothing more, the silent warning in her eyes speaking volumes.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"*Are you ready for tomorrow’s departure?*" Cecilia asked, changing the subject.
Saki shot her an annoyed glance. "*Not that I have a choice,*" she muttered under her breath.
Cecilia chuckled lightly, knowing Saki well enough to sense her irritation. "*A request from the Demon Lord, after all. You really don’t have a choice.*"
"*No choice, my ass,*" Saki grumbled as she stood up, tossing her cigarette aside. "*I’m going to kill all those heroes, and that damn angel, too. I’ll make sure to experiment on their bodies afterwards,*" she said with a dark, irritated tone as she stormed out, leaving Cecilia behind with a bemused expression.
Once Saki was out of sight, Cecilia’s curiosity got the better of her. She glanced back at the book on the table, her fingers brushing the cover lightly. Looking around to ensure no one was watching, she quietly slipped the book under her arm and left the room, her mind buzzing with questions about what she had just read.Typhon, after being dismissed from the meeting, wandered aimlessly through the castle corridors. At least, that’s what he told himself. But deep down, he knew he was looking for Meliae. He paced through almost every hall of the sprawling castle, yet there was no sign of her.
Just when frustration was beginning to creep in, he spotted Saki from afar, emerging from the research department. Typhon raised his hand, intending to catch her attention. However, Saki, who had clearly noticed him, turned around, pretending as though she hadn’t seen him at all.
"*Oi! There’s no way you’re getting away from me and dumping all the tasks on my shoulders,*" Typhon called out, his long strides quickly closing the distance between them. Saki’s expression twisted into one of annoyance, her lips curling as if the mere sight of him grated her nerves.
"*Tch, how annoying,*" she muttered under her breath, but before she could slip away, Typhon cut her off.
"*Have you seen Meliae anywhere?*" His tone was calm, but there was a trace of impatience lurking beneath it.
Saki raised an eyebrow at the question, her face shifting into a mischievous grin. "*Oh? Are you missing her already?*" Her voice dripped with sarcasm, clearly trying to provoke him.
Typhon didn’t miss a beat, his counter as sharp as her jab. "*I don’t have time for your games,*" he replied flatly, refusing to rise to her bait.
Saki grinned wider, clearly enjoying his irritation. "*The last I heard, she was in the kitchen,*" she finally answered, though she made no effort to sound helpful.
Typhon stood silently for a moment, absorbing the information. Then, almost hesitantly, he asked, "*What do you think Meliae really is?*"
Saki's expression shifted subtly, her eyes narrowing. "*What do you mean?*" she asked, though her voice hinted that she knew exactly what he was getting at.
"*The Demon Lord isn’t the kind to take care of someone on a whim,*" Typhon continued, his tone more contemplative now. "*He travelled across worlds to save her. There must be something about her that he saw.*"
Saki sighed, leaning her weight to one side. "*I didn’t think you were the type to dig into such complicated things, Typhon,*" she said, rolling her eyes.
Then, with a sly smile, she added, "*You’ve gone soft since meeting her.*"
Her words hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. Typhon’s expression remained unreadable, though his silence spoke volumes.Typhon already knew part of the truth—that Meliae was a will of the Sacred Tree, Yggdrana. But what he couldn't fathom was the Demon Lord's true plan for her. Saki waved her hand dismissively, her voice tinged with indifference.
"*Who knows? The Demon Lord isn’t someone we can easily comprehend,*" she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "*He tries to imitate human emotions, but when you look into his eyes, there’s only an endless void.*"
Her tone darkened as she continued. "*They’re not pure emotions, not like ours. They have no roots, no depth, just... crafted feelings.*"
Typhon frowned as he listened, tension creeping into his posture.
"*Ever since he discovered Heaven's implications, he’s changed,*" Saki added, her voice thoughtful. "*My theory? He’s planning to use Meliae to corrupt Yggdrana.*"
Typhon's breath hitched slightly, cold sweat forming on his brow. "*If that happens... what...?*" he asked, his voice trailing off as the weight of her words sank in.
Saki raised her hand, pointing her fingers at him in a mock gun gesture. "*Bang.*" She smirked, her tone light despite the gravity of her words. "*The end of all things, I guess.*"
---
Somewhere deep within the castle, in a massive chamber that pulsed with chaotic energy, the Demon Lord stood, his body levitating inches above the ground. The room was filled with cosmic fluctuations, intricate patterns woven through space like threads of fate. He raised his hand toward the empty sky above, and with a fluid motion, began writing in the void with a quill. Each stroke left glowing lines in its wake, ancient symbols that represented words of power, the very fabric of his will.
A slow smile crept across his lips. "*The light... how cunning it is,*" he mused aloud, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. "*It has interfered once again in my plans. I had altered the events once, ensuring the heroes’ defeat by Dagon’s wrath. The words I inscribed in the 'God's Outlaw' were meant to be the one and only truth, the ultimate reality.*"
His quill danced through the air, carving new lines into the fabric of existence.
"*Yet you, too, have transcended even that. You altered events in your own way, and instead, gained Dagon's demise,*" he said, his tone dripping with both amusement and disdain. "*You enjoy this game as much as I do, don’t you?*"
The Demon Lord's eyes glowed with an eerie black light, his gaze distant, as if peering beyond the dimensions of reality itself.
"*The worlds we once created...*," he continued, his voice soft but heavy with meaning, "*...are now mere machinery, tools to shape at our will.*"
His quill continued its relentless path, crafting letters that shaped the next arc of the grand design. But what the Demon Lord truly saw wasn’t the empty void before him; it was something else—a perspective of himself, standing beyond the frame of reality. And then, there was me—the narrator, the one who had been giving these instructions, my hands bound by the words etched into existence.
As the narrator, the story no longer belonged to me. I was nothing more than a puppet in their game, a game where the gods and the Demon Lord constantly rewrote the script, altering it to suit their whims, heedless of the damage they caused to the structure of reality itself.
They were gods, and I... I was just a normal human, living in a cramped room in **Nakano**, a district of Tokyo. I’d thought about giving up countless times, but every time, I was threatened. If I quit, they would erase me and my world—*the real world*—plunging it into oblivion.
I had no choice. Any inconsistencies, any divergences from the story, weren’t my doing. I was a slave to the quill. *I’ve had enough...*
Suddenly, the Demon Lord’s quill halted mid-air. The words stopped flowing, and the air around him grew still. He had finished crafting the next stage of the storyline, molding it to fit his dark desires.
"*Let's play the game,*" he whispered, his voice carrying a sinister edge as he closed the vast chamber, the room flickering with the light of stars and distant galaxies.
His long, dark robe billowed in the air, an eerie black void that seemed to absorb the very light around him. With one final glance at the fabric of reality he had just reshaped, he vanished into the darkness, ready to execute the next phase of his plan.
Far away, beyond the world of men, beyond even the realms of demons or the amalgam of worlds, there exists a realm of light known as **Caelum**. Within this holy plane, beings of pure light and others in human form gathered to discuss the cosmic threat known as the *Primordial Void*, a being who had escaped from *Elyon*—where it had slumbered with the Primordial Light. The disturbance had occurred when the human, *Yami Saito*, disrupted the rift between dimensions.
The meeting was tense, filled with heated exchanges. One of the elder gods spoke, "*We should send the legion of angels and begin an all-out war. Gabriel’s revelation was not part of the events crafted by the Light!*"
Another voice chimed in with a grim tone. "*Gabriel’s appearance wasn’t according to the Light’s design. The Demon Lord must have used his influence to manipulate even the Creator Himself.*"
"*How powerful has that demon lord become?!*" cursed a god from the far end of the table, his form pulsating with light.
The table they gathered around was vast and circular, with a large pentagram at its center. The pentagram had five branches, each stretching to one corner of the table. At the tip of each branch was inscribed the name of a god, and beneath each name stood the deity themselves, their forms shimmering with celestial energy. The purpose of their meeting was singular: to stop the Void before it could destroy them.
"*Without the intervention of the Light,*" one elder said gravely, "*the last rampage would have obliterated us.*"
Amidst the divine beings stood a girl—or rather, a goddess. She had been absent during the first rampage and seemed indifferent to the elder gods' bickering. Her attention was focused not on the grave matters before her but on a small rectangular device glowing in her hand—a phone she had taken from the world she was assigned to. Earbuds streamed soft sounds from the human world, and her star-shaped pupils gleamed as she fixated on the light emanating from the screen.
She didn't seem to participate in the meeting, but she was quietly listening, absorbing their words. After hearing enough, she suddenly stood, breaking the tension-filled atmosphere of the room. One of the elder gods, a being of light with four beast-shaped legs resembling a deer, turned to her, his voice resonating with authority.
"*What do you think you're doing?*" he asked, his light flickering as his attention shifted to her.
The goddess, with her short hair cut in a sharp square style, had half of her hair golden and the other half a fiery red. She glanced at him, eyes full of defiance. "*I'm going to end that Demon Lord,*" she declared, her voice calm but filled with unshakable resolve.
The elder gods fell silent, shock rippling across their divine forms. Those in human guise blinked, disbelief washing over their faces.
"*Do you even understand what you're saying?*" asked one of the gods, his expression grave. "*Michael himself was utterly annihilated by the Demon Lord.*"
Her boldness didn’t waver, not even for a moment. She replied with her usual overconfidence, "*Michael was just an angel. He is not like us.*"
The elders’ eyes narrowed at her arrogance. Fear, deep and unspoken, flickered in their hearts. They had all witnessed what *true terror* looked like—and knew that no one, not even the gods themselves, was immune to it when faced with that *thing*—the Demon Lord.
One of the elders spoke up, his voice cold and sharp. "*Your arrogance blinds you. It is always arrogance that is shattered by the truth.*"
"*We gods are not invincible,*" another elder added. "*We are mere -conceptions created to govern the weaves of reality. If you are destroyed by the Void, there will be no repentance, no resurrection, and no hope of reincarnation. Oblivion awaits even us.*"
The goddess, unfazed by their warnings, slammed the door of the council chamber behind her as she left. As she walked away, she muttered something under her breath, a final remark filled with pride and scorn, aimed at the council.
After she was gone, the conversation amongst the gods shifted. No longer did they talk about the Demon Lord—at least not for the moment. Their attention, now tinged with concern, turned to the goddess who had just stormed out.
"*She’s ranked third in Caelum due to her strength,*" one muttered, shaking his head. "*How does she expect to destroy the Void when Michael, ranked second, couldn’t even stand a chance?*"
"*Who does she think she is?*" cursed another god, frustration evident in his tone.
Though they cursed and muttered under their breath, deep down, they knew that she wasn’t entirely wrong. The truth, though buried beneath layers of fear and hesitation, gnawed at them. They had spent millennia discussing, debating, and bickering amongst themselves, yet they had achieved nothing. Their fear of annihilation had made them stagnant.
The Void’s destruction of Michael had proven one thing: death was no longer a concept reserved for lesser beings. Even gods could be annihilated.
---
The council chamber was as grand and imposing as the gods themselves. High vaulted ceilings made of translucent, ethereal material stretched far above them, reflecting the light of distant stars. The walls were adorned with shifting, glowing runes, constantly weaving and reweaving themselves into patterns of sacred geometry. The pentagram etched into the floor of the chamber pulsed with divine energy, its branches stretching to the very edges of the room. Each god had their place, their essence tied to the structure of this celestial space.
The atmosphere, once bright and filled with light, now felt heavy with doubt and fear.After closing the door behind her, Istar began walking down the hallway. Her gaze was distant, fixated on the endless expanse of the celestial realm above. Far off in the distance, she could sense subtle cracks in the sky, almost invisible to others, but her keen sight detected the ominous leakage—void seeping through like droplets of impending disaster. She sighed quietly, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the path ahead. The heavens, once a place of peace, now showed signs of vulnerability.
The halls she walked were vast, stretching towards another exit, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Her expression shifted—there was a heaviness in her heart, an indescribable sadness that lingered in her eyes. She was not like the others, born from the light to rule over the lesser worlds. She was Istar, the goddess of both love and war. But when, she wondered, did the gods begin to fear death? The very notion seemed absurd to beings who were once beyond the concept of mortality.
She had never thought of herself as truly alive, not in the way mortals were. She was a tool—crafted by the light for a grand design. But now, standing on the edge of this conflict, her resolve wavered. Opening the second gate, she stepped into the vast expanse of civilization—a world teeming with humans who had found redemption. The Four Great Cities of the heavens stretched before her, filled with those who had lived noble lives, those who had sacrificed everything, and even those who had suffered under the weight of slavery and injustice. From every race, every world, they had come together in this sacred place.
Standing on the balcony, she could hear the echoes of their joy, their love, and their happiness deep within her soul. But just as clearly, she could also hear the cries of the living—their suffering, their endless pleas for salvation from the broken world below. Her hand instinctively reached forward, ready to create a gate to the mortal realm when she was interrupted.
"You truly intend to face the Lord of the Void?" a voice asked.
She didn't respond immediately. The silence between them hung heavy for several precious moments. Then, her voice broke the stillness, filled with a quiet yet firm resolution. "I can no longer bear to hear the lamentations of the living."
She continued, her tone soft but resolute, "It is my duty to spread love equally among all souls. But it is also my duty to end the war that ravages humanity." Her words hung in the air, a whisper filled with determination. "Better to die as a god, standing for something, than to cower and die for the unfaithful hearts of humans who have abandoned their own."
The one who had interrupted her was a young man, appearing no older than sixteen—two years her senior, if she were to count age by the form she currently inhabited. He sighed, his voice laced with concern. "You do realise, don't you? This could mean true annihilation. Not the false death that governs the mortal plane."
Istar turned to face him, her bicolored star-shaped pupils locking onto his gaze. "For a god," she began, her voice steady but with an edge of melancholy, "losing the respect and faith of humans is a fate worse than death itself."
The young man couldn't help but be captivated by her presence, his heart swayed by her unwavering confidence and grace. He took her hand impulsively, his grip firm. "What kind of man would let his woman face that alone?"
Istar smiled faintly, the gesture small but genuine. "Thank you, *Dumuzi*," she replied, acknowledging him by his divine name. The two of them, now united in their resolve, leapt from the balcony of the celestial castle., the holiest structure in all of the heavens.
Their feet touched down in the flowered garden below, the impact gentle enough not to disturb even a single petal. Hand in hand, they stood together, their fingers tightly interlocked as though they were a newly bonded couple. But not far from them, a figure was watching—naked and unashamed, a man eating a green apple with casual indifference. After swallowing the first bite, he greeted them casually.
Istar's gaze shifted toward the voice. She knew who it was immediately. "Adam," she said, her tone as unfazed as ever, showing no sign of discomfort at his lack of clothing. It was a custom among the gods, after all.
Adam smiled at her, his deep blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he glanced at the device in her hand—the phone he had gifted her. "I see you're enjoying my little gift," he said aloud, catching a momentary glance from Dumuzi.
Istar's expression remained indifferent. "Don't mind him," she muttered, brushing it off. "He's just a goofy bastard."
Adam waved his hand, unfazed by her dismissive attitude. "Gods shouldn't use such language, you know."
But when Istar gave him no further reaction, he dropped the playful facade, his tone becoming more serious. "I'm coming with you—to the mortal realm."
At first, Istar seemed to refute the idea, but Adam persisted. "It's partly my fault. Greed, corruption, it all began with me. As a father to humanity, I cannot stand by and watch them suffer any longer. This is my repentance, my chance to end the evil that bewitched them."
Istar paused, looking at him with a mixture of indifference and curiosity. From Adam's perspective, he couldn’t tell if she was listening to him or simply lost in the music playing through her device. Finally, she spoke again, her voice cutting through his worries. "You do understand, don't you? This is no game. If you die, truly die... not even the Creator Himself could bring you back."
Adam waved her concern away with a casual motion. "Watching my children suffer is worse than any death you could imagine."
For the first time, a small grin tugged at Istar's lips as she walked past him. Adam caught a glimpse of her expression, a fleeting moment of satisfaction. But Dumuzi, cutting through the heavy atmosphere, quickly remarked, "You should at least cover up, Adam."
Adam chuckled, plucking a large leaf from the garden to fashion a makeshift covering.
As the heroes’ party made their way through the northern icy path, snow gently fell around them, blanketing the terrain in pure white. The crunch of snow beneath their boots was the only sound that echoed through the otherwise quiet wilderness. Gabriel led the group, his sharp eyes scanning the path ahead, though he maintained a relaxed pace. Behind him, Selena trudged along, her arms folded tightly against the cold, her breath visible in the frigid air.
"Ugh, this is unbearable," Selena whined, pulling her fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Why is it always freezing wherever we go?"
Kaelus, walking just behind her, chuckled lightly. "Perhaps it's because you're not blessed anymore, Selena. You're feeling the cold like a regular human now." He tapped his own armoured shoulder with a smirk.
Before she could retort, Gabriel cut in with a knowing smile. "A blessing isn't just a shield, you know. It resonates with the soul. Give it time, and you'll feel it again."
Selena shot a half-hearted glare at Kaelus but huffed, appreciating Gabriel's reassurance. "Easy for you to say. You still have your blessing. Some of us aren’t used to feeling like we’ve been frozen solid."
Gabriel gave her a teasing grin. "You'll manage. Besides, you look adorable when you're grumpy."
Selena turned away, cheeks flushed, muttering, "Don't push your luck."
Elias, wrapped tightly in his hooded black cloak, stayed at the back of the group, walking silently, his face hidden beneath the shadows of his hood. He hadn’t said a word since they began their journey, but Gabriel, ever perceptive, was fully aware of Elias's unease. He could sense the subtle tension that weighed on his friend. Despite this, Gabriel didn’t press him. He knew Elias would speak when he was ready.
The idle chatter between them lightened the mood. Kaelus, ever the joker, pointed toward the distant snow-covered hills. "You know, back in the day, I'd take a dip in the freezing rivers of Valkyr every winter. It’s good for the skin—so I’ve heard."
Selena scoffed. "Is that why your face looks like it's been through a thousand battles?"
Kaelus held his chest in mock offense. "Wounded. Deeply wounded."
Gabriel chuckled, and even Elias, though he stayed silent, seemed to walk with slightly less tension in his steps.
They continued onward, the frosty air nipping at their faces, but the warmth of their camaraderie kept the cold at bay. Despite the chilling wind, the banter between the group made the icy path to Tartesso Castle feel less daunting. Though their journey was fraught with danger, in moments like these, they could enjoy the simple pleasure of each other's company.
The northern path stretched on, but with the conversation flowing naturally, it almost felt like a leisurely stroll instead of a march toward the unknown.