“The time has come,” a gargantuan figure hovering in space announced, his six eyes trained on the Earthen Union.

  The Weave, shrouding the world, flickered in iridescent colors. It pulsated irregularly and swelled with every movement, only to shrink back moments later.

  “About time. This took way too long in the first place.” Another voice resounded, but there was no source to it. The voice rang out beside the gargantuan figure, only to disperse as if it were part of the surrounding void.

  “Did it really? The Awakening took a lot longer in the last Cycles. Compared to the centuries we wasted in the first few Cycles, this is a breeze.”

  “Too long,” the voice in the void rasped. “I’ve been waiting way too long for this moment. I’m tired of going through this nonsense over and over again!”

  The gargantuan figure shrugged and watched as the Aether density of the Earthen Union increased. No matter how often he experienced the Earthen Union’s final Awakening, it was magnificent. This time, however, it felt even more glorious. This was going to be the last Awakening. It was the final fight—the beginning of the end.

  And as far as the gargantuan figure was concerned, they were at the advantage. The Origin had sacrificed a lot since the End resurfaced, but they had played their cards well. Not everything had been great—it was impossible to create the perfect situation with close to a hundred age-old gods scheming against each other—but the Earthen Union had been purified. In all the Cycles he had seen, the gargantuan figure couldn’t remember a single time the Earthen Union was this clean when it fully awakened. It was a first, and the timing couldn’t have been any better.

  A shockwave tore the gargantuan figure from his contemplation, and he turned back to the Earthen Union. The Weave’s dome surrounding the world erupted. It shattered in a deafening explosion and released Might in every direction, forcefully injecting the Earthen Union and the empty space surrounding it. Several gods jumped into action and absorbed as much Might as the Weave allowed, but the gargantuan figure and others remained unmoving. The Awakening of a world empowered all lifeforms within its reach. However, that was of no concern to most Major Gods, let alone Ancient Gods and Old Ones. They had experienced the Awakening of thousands of worlds, which included dozens of Awakenings of the Earthen Union.

  Rather than stealing the younger gods’ Might, they inspected the Earthen Union in satisfaction. The world absorbed the Weave’s Might greedily, but that was only the beginning. It desired more, and the Weave conceded. Contrary to the first Cycle, the Weave was fully prepared for it this time around. It poured into the Earthen Union and fused a portion of its existence with the world, elevating it to a higher level once again.

  That was an anomaly, but it was a necessity, or the Earthen Union would collapse in the following decades, maybe centuries—because of the End’s influence. The Earthen Union was the only awakened planet in the same solar system as the Fissure connecting the Origin and the End; it was the frontline in the fight, and it was the closest to the Weave. The world was connected to both sides, constantly tempered to survive the strain of the final clash, and it was what everyone sought.

  I’m leaving. one of the youngest gods, an elf with fiery red skin, informed the gargantuan figure telepathically.

  Do you think that’s a good decision?

  The elf was only a Minor God, barely ascended to godhood a few centuries ago, and he had yet to call a world his own. He was not weak, but the danger of the Earthen Union was not worth it. Not when the Weave restrained the power of gods until the first native of the Earthen Union ascended to godhood either.

  I can always bypass the Weave’s restriction if something goes wrong. A few Beast Gods and a cohort of Ascendants have already departed! the elf shouted in the gargantuan figure’s mind.

  It was possible to use Might to loosen the restrictions ever so slightly, but it was expensive, and the Weave did not tolerate it easily. Ancients and Old Ones could use the Weave freely. However, even they were conscious of their actions when it concerned the Weave’s rules. For others, it might not be enough of a warning, but most gods were old enough to understand what it meant when Old Ones and Ancients behaved around something—or someone—with utmost care.

  Be careful.

  He watched as the first gods departed. World Gates sprung into existence, and both Ascendants and their subjects emerged from them, invading the seas and lands of the Earthen Union. Some emerged underground, others appeared high in the sky. Then there were elementals that merged with the surrounding land, and countless other creatures—be they powerful Ascendants or Iron Classers—that sought power and Might. The Earthen Union offered both… and more—a lot more.

  A lot more beings left the space, but just as many remained. There were more than enough gods left to take care of the Fissure, to buy more time while the young ones fought for strength. Hopefully, at last, the competition would result in the creation of enough powerhouses—powerful creatures that could put a stop to the End.

  “Can you manage, Zachariah?” the gargantuan figure muttered, as flashes of stars—Ascendants and gods—descended upon the world. “Can you be as strong as the gods without being one? Can you stop it all like you promised?”

  A sigh resounded, and he turned back, releasing his power upon the Fissure to keep it in place, buying more time. Everything would be fine. He was confident in the Sword God, and in Bereth all the more. The Guard, Asmodeus, and the others were prepared for the final Cycle. They had sacrificed so much in the other Cycles for this very moment, and the gargantuan figure was certain they would succeed and protect the Origin.

  His eyes fixated on the Fissure. As long as he and the others—

  You are distracted. The voice in the void rang in his ears, this time louder—colder—than it had ever been in the millennia they had been around one another.

  You should have listened to your own advice. You should have been more careful.

  Searing pain ripped through his lower back, surged through his abdomen, and… poured out of the gargantuan figure’s chest. He coughed up golden blood and looked down at his body to see a massive, pitch-black blade jutting from his chest.

  His massive palm pressed firmly against the blade instantly, and he willed the Law of Destruction to do what it did best. Cracks formed on the blade and it crumbled to countless tiny pieces right before the gargantuan figure unleashed the Lesser Law of Life. But as the Law of Life worked its wonders, the gargantuan figure realized it was failing.

  The Law was active and ought to heal him, yet the fountain of golden blood pouring out of him did not cease. He was forced to seal the wound using his Divinity and a mountain of Might—just as much Might as he had needed when he first fought one of the Monarchs of the Void.

  His danger sense flared and his eyes flicked in all directions to find the one who had just attacked him. And he found him, along with the pitch-black tentacles tipped with large, double-edged blades.

  “How could you betray us, Sheragh?” His voice hollered through space. “Why are you doing this?!”

  But just as the words escaped his lips, the gargantuan figure noticed something else: he was not the only one under attack. Several beings, gods he had known for millennia, were shrouded in the all-consuming darkness of the End, laughing and cackling as they struck their allies. Blades and projectiles of Nihilum tore through the Guardians of the Fissure, who had spent centuries stalling the expansion of the Fissure.

  They had sacrificed everything for the greater good, to ensure the Origin’s survival, and now they had to pay with their lives.

  Uncontrollable rage blossomed in the gargantuan figure’s chest, but he did not suppress the emotions he had buried for eons. Not this time. He reached into the depths of the Weave and clutched the Primordial Seed of the Law of Destruction. He shattered the seals etched on his lifeforce and on the Might he had naturally accumulated over the lifetime of thousands of lives, and his form expanded rapidly.

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  His hand, the size of meteorites, shot toward Sheragh. The Major God of Mist and Illusion was concealed in the very network of the Weave, but the gargantuan figure tore through the Weave, his fingers coiling around the Major God. Sheragh unraveled his true form and expanded as the seals of his power unraveled, but the Major God of Illusion was still nowhere near the gargantuan figure’s size. Nor was he strong enough to escape his clutch.

  “Your time has come, Godfather!” Sheragh roared at the top of his lungs. “The End has arrived!”

  Godfather stared coldly at Sheragh for a moment. Then the power of Destruction rolled through his arms and tore into the Major God, ending his life. His cursed power annihilated the traitor instantaneously, yet it tore through Godfather and the Weave at the same time. Every bit of Destruction pushed the Origin closer to annihilation. It destabilized the Weave and created more opportunities for the End.

  It was all Destruction’s fault… his fault. The Fissure leading to the End—it was all his doing, and it was his responsibility to destroy it. But he couldn’t. No True God could enter the other side. If not for that, Godfather and the Titans of the Origin would have stepped into the Fissure to eradicate the End a long time ago.

  Now he had to rely on the Cycles and fledglings to fix his mistakes.

  “I should have interfered a long time ago,” he growled as the power of Nihilum tore through him.

  The traitors, shrouded in the End’s all-consuming darkness, had turned on him and attacked, pouring more and more Nihilum into his veins. It was nowhere near killing him—not for thousands upon thousands of lives—but did that really matter if the Origin was no more?

  Power poured from him in massive surges. It tore through his lifeforce and Might, and blasted his enemies, decimating the traitorous gods who had accepted the powers of Monarchs. Still, it was to no avail.

  Most Guardians of the Fissure had been attacked and killed; their corpses were thrown into the Fissure to feed and expand it.

  “I failed.”

  Godfather stared at the Fissure as it slowly expanded. Fingers coated in eternal darkness clawed their way to the surface and emerged, their faces as hideous as they had been in all Cycles. Void Fragments, the Voidre, and their Monarchs poured out of the Fissure and burst toward the living—whether Godfather or the nearest planet.

  “You were right, Sheragh,” he noted, and a sudden sense of calm flowed through his icy veins. “My time has come.

  “But that is fine. I lived long enough,” Godfather muttered, crossing dozens of kilometers with a single step to block the strongest of the Voidlings from escaping his grasp. “It is time for the next generation to step up.”

  The situation was bleak; the tides had shifted once more. But the Godfather stared death straight in the eyes. His worries faded, and he focused on the one thing he could do to improve the Origin’s chances of survival: tear through his enemies and kill as many Monarchs as possible—until his very last breath.

  ***

  “Hold still!” the Chief Healer’s hoarse voice rang through the hospital just as Maja stepped inside.

  The smell of blood and corruption intertwined with pained groans and stifled screams, filling the air with gloom. Hundreds of spells performed to preserve the lives of those poor souls on the brink of death—and to heal the wounded—tried to disperse the tension sweeping through the hospital. However, they failed miserably.

  Maja would have loved to ease the tension, but she was wounded, exhausted, and at the end of her strength. Months had passed since a System notification informed them that the Earthen Union had fully awakened, and… a lot had changed.

  The center of Kamia was still under their control, but most of the Portal Hub had been rendered useless. Either the Rifts they had painstakingly nurtured and protected to harvest for resources had been destroyed, or they had been claimed by other forces. At the same time, they were constantly in peril, fighting with their lives on the line.

  If not for Electra and the Guardian Idols, they would have long since succumbed to the otherworldly forces invading their territory. Kamia, as magnificent as its isolated location was, had been claimed by other parties. No fewer than four Ascendants had descended on Kamia, each claiming a small piece of land and spending the last few months expanding their influence. World Gates appeared within the first two months, and their armies followed shortly after. Since then, the tides had changed.

  The Ascendants’ territories grew relentlessly until they bordered one another—or David’s territory. From that day onward, lethal combat had been increasingly difficult to avoid. Not only were the Ascendants’ armies powerful, but their Sworn were cunning. Then there was the sheer prowess of the Ascendants themselves. Orhain had been fortunate to avoid direct confrontation, but that was mostly due to the stalemate between them.

  The Ascendants tried to attack each other, as well as Orhain, several times. But they eyed one another like hawks and struck the instant their opponents’ strongest forces left their Sanctuaries. Therefore, the Ascendants were forced either to move in the shadows or to remain behind to command their forces.

  Or, more often than Maja liked, they used their Arcana and overwhelming power to intervene in the battles. As far as she could tell, their actions cost them a lot of Might, but that did little to improve her mood. In the last battle, two Ascendants accessed the Weave, draining a considerable amount of Might to severely wound Lukas, crack one of the Guardian Idols, and suppress Electra.

  Surely, they were dissatisfied with the results of their actions, but it had nearly cost Orhain dearly.

  If not for Electra… Maja shuddered.

  “Will they make it?” she asked the Chief Healer, who didn’t even turn to her.

  “If not, I will personally wring their necks once I follow them into the pits of hell,” she growled, using another healing ability. The blood drained from her face and beads of sweat poured down her temples. Her legs trembled and threatened to give in, but she pressed her golden, shimmering hand on the lethal wound of one of the severely wounded Unitas siblings anyway.

  “Do you have any Vitae left? A third of the wounded have been mortally inflicted.”

  Maja winced. “No, I had to use it yesterday. I’ll ask Electra to come by later. She can force her way into that idiot’s—” She went silent, her lips pressed together.

  “You still don’t like talking about it?” The Chief Healer turned to glimpse at her for a moment, disapproval in her eyes. “Your lover is an idiot. A fool! Why would he consume a serum that’s been made for gods without examining it first? He’s a brute, a—”

  “Stop it!” Maja snarled, ignoring the heads flicking her way. “His presence is the sole reason Orhain is still standing. In the first place, without him, you as well as every single one of Orhain’s denizens wouldn’t be here. We’d be dead, if fortune were on our side, or we would be struggling against the Ascendants and those damn otherworldly beings.”

  The Ascendants were a grave problem, but they were busy dealing with each other. No one was willing to surrender, yet they were too weak to force their opponents into submission. Then, there was the real problem: the issue that bothered not only Orhain but the Ascendants as well—the Voidlings in Kamia.

  As far as the Seekers’ and Scouts’ reports went, three Voidre and thousands of Voidlings had settled in the region that had been the land of the dead up until a few months ago. David hadn’t managed to restore the land of the dead just yet, which was probably for the best, as it had transformed into a massive wasteland now that the Voidre and Voidlings had taken control of it.

  Roughly half of Kamia was under the control of the Voidlings, which would have been a lot worse if not for Maja, the other Champions, and Electra wreaking havoc, using Vitae Nihilum to protect Orhain and the parts of Kamia that the isolated country hadn’t claimed. Of course, the Ascendants and their Champions fought the Voidlings too, but their feats were lackluster. Electra could fight Voidre head-on—only one at a time, but that didn’t matter. Not when the Ascendants struggled to fight them.

  Ordinary Voidlings couldn’t harm the Ascendants, since the potency of Might pushed their defenses to new heights, granting them just enough resilience to block the Nihilum of dozens of Void Fragments. However, that was not the case with a Voidre’s Nihilum. They could not block it properly, not yet, forcing the Ascendants to put their greed for expansion aside whenever the Voidre attacked the southern part of Kamia. Two Ascendants battled one Voidre each, whereas Electra and the Guardian Idols fought the third, forcing it into retreat.

  “Are you sure he will return?” The weak voice of an Awakened resounded through the hospital’s emergency room. Though weak and quiet, the voice still rang in Maja’s ears. Her lips parted, but she didn’t get an answer out before someone else spoke for her.

  “He will return.” Maja spun toward a familiar elven figure. It was Melach, but he was nothing like he had been eight months ago.

  “David will return. Just give him some time, and he will be back,” he said, his voice overflowing with confidence.

  It was still unclear what had happened to Melach. However, the elf had changed. He was nothing like he used to be. His body was riddled with scars, his power pushed to the limits of a mortal being.

  Even though he had been given the option to return to his family, to join their very own fight against the End, Melach stayed behind, fought for Orhain and himself, eyeing David levitating above the Sanctuary every night.

  “If you say so,” the Chief Healer said, turning back to tend to her patients.

  Maja, meanwhile, was deep in thought.

  Give him more time? She sighed. How much longer do we have to give him, exactly?

  Several weeks later, a pulse of raw power shook the entire country. There was a movement, minuscule and inconspicuous to the uneducated sense, but it reached Maja. It stirred something in the deepest parts of her very being.

  Electra trembled, her form fluctuating wildly. A deafening roar escaped her lips, and she transformed into a crimson flash that shot high into the sky.

  Then, the moment they had been waiting for—for eight months—finally arrived. A finger twitched, and tears streaked down Maja’s face.

  “Finally… T-That took you long enough, you idiot.”

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