As the Alpha-Omega Overgods and the ArchDeities regained control of their battered bodies, their gazes turned upward—toward the origin of the golden blast that had shattered firmament itself.
What they saw left even the gods breathless.
The golden seed was gone. In its place hovered a small sky-blue dagger, no longer than fifteen centimeters.
It pulsed with divine radiance—its aura so overwhelming that even the sky trembled under its presence. The air around it shimmered, time itself bending to the weight of its power. None could discern its nature or function, but one truth was undeniable: its power eclipsed everything else on the battlefield.
Every eye glowed with hunger.
In less than a heartbeat, they all lunged toward the dagger—Overgods and ArchDeities alike—burning their divine cores, tearing open the fabric of space as they raced to seize the Alpha-Omega's Natural Inheritance for themselves.
The closest to it were, of course, Zarazel and Urin.
