The capital city of Xaatinia trembled beneath the weight of its silence. The sky above the castle was pale and cloudless, yet a faint shimmer of divine flame lingered in the air—residue from the goddess who sat upon the throne within.
Xuhuna's eyes were half-closed, her expression calm yet sharp as a blade hidden beneath silk. The throne room was vast and dimly lit, the walls carved from a stone that absorbed light rather than reflected it.
The heavy doors creaked open, and soft, cautious footsteps echoed across the marble floor. The pop of Xaatinia, a man whose loyalty bordered on worship, entered with his head bowed low. He knelt before the goddess, voice trembling with the weight of what he carried.
"My lord," he began, "something… big has happened."
Xuhuna's eyes opened, twin embers of cold blue flame staring down at him. "Speak."
The pop took a sharp breath. "Plea and Aliana have merged together. They've declared the formation of a new power… calling themselves the Yani."
For a long moment, the room fell silent. The only sound was the soft hum of divine energy radiating from the goddess herself. Xuhuna did not look surprised—if anything, she seemed faintly amused.
"So," she murmured, resting her chin upon her hand. "He finally decided to do it."
She had been expecting this. The unification of Plea and Aliana was inevitable the moment Zigeyr revealed his presence. Still, it puzzled her. "What took him so long?" she whispered to herself.
The pop hesitated, unsure if she was expecting a reply. Then, cautiously, he continued. "My lord, the situation is… strange. Plea was far stronger than Aliana, and their governments were enemies. Yet they've merged without resistance. Even their laws mirror our own—except that no citizen of their new nation may migrate to other lands. It feels… unnatural."
"There is a god behind it," Xuhuna said, her tone cold and absolute.
The pop's face paled. He lowered his gaze, pressing his forehead against the floor. "A god… then this is beyond mortal politics."
"You could say that."
Xuhuna leaned back in her throne. For a fleeting second, her smile was almost human. "Leave. And send word to the generals—tell them to annex the last country separating us from Yani. No negotiations."
The pop bowed until his forehead struck the marble. "Yes, my lord." He turned and left, his steps fading quickly down the endless corridor.
When the doors closed again, Xuhuna exhaled softly. Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling, as if peering through the sky itself to where Zigeyr watched from afar.
"So, you've begun your little crusade…" she said under her breath. "Let's see how long you can hold your throne, Primordial."
Two months passed.
The world watched as Xaatinia crushed its final obstacle. The last border nation, once considered powerful, fell within weeks. Smoke rose from its cities, and its rulers were executed before dawn. Now, only a single stretch of land separated Xaatinia and the newborn nation of Yani.
Diplomats fled. Journalists speculated. Economists screamed about collapse. None of it mattered. Every eye turned to the border, waiting to see which country would strike first.
No one knew that this war would not be fought by armies. No mortal would decide its outcome.
Only gods would.
In Aliana—once a free land, now consumed by the Yani Religion—a girl stood in a quiet garden. The world outside was drowning in worship, but here, among the stone paths and pale flowers, it was almost peaceful.
Kiara breathed slowly, her eyes fixed on a stone slab twice her height. She clenched her fist, whispered something beneath her breath, and struck.
The air cracked. The stone exploded into dust.
For a moment, she simply stood there, trembling. "That… that was me?" she whispered.
She looked down at her hands. No pain. No blood. Her power was real. The system had not lied.
She had finally reached the First Level of Mortality—Stage 1. A small beginning, yet already she could shatter stone with her bare fists. If this was her strength now, how devastating would she become at Stage 10, when mortals could level continents with a thought?
It had taken her more than two months to reach this point, and the path ahead only grew steeper. But she didn't care. Power was all that mattered now.
She thought of Idom—his face, his arrogance, his betrayal. Hatred rippled through her chest like fire.Her first wish had been wasted, granted in ignorance. If she had known she could ascend, if she had known that godhood was within reach… she would have chosen differently. Only one last wish remained, that she had decided to store until something relevant come.
"If only," she whispered, "I could wish for more wishes."
But the system, cold and calculating, had made sure that loophole would never exist.
Her thoughts were broken by a sound—a deep, grating hum that pierced the air. Kiara screamed, clutching her ears and crouched as an unbearable vibration rolled across the land. It wasn't sound. It was power.
At that same moment, in the capital of Plea, the world ended.
A blinding light erupted from the city center, expanding faster than human thought. Every building, every life, every trace of civilization was erased in a single, absolute moment. When the light faded, only dust and silence remained.
Above the wasteland, two figures hovered in the air.
One burned with divine radiance. The other was shadow made flesh.
"You think you can defeat me?" Zigeyr's voice was smooth and venomous, carrying through the dead wind. "A Primordial?"
Xuhuna's lips curved. "You may be a Primordial Supreme, but you are not above the law of the universe. Pride suits you poorly."
Before her words faded, Zigeyr vanished—appearing beside her in an instant. His fist struck like thunder, but Xuhuna moved faster, twisting aside. Her counterpunch connected with his chest, and the air split with a shockwave that carved trenches in the ruins below. Zigeyr flew backward, crashing through the remnants of a shattered tower.
Xuhuna's laughter echoed through the gray sky. "So this is your strength now? You've fallen so low that even I can wound you. How pitiful."
Before the Calamity, she would never have dared defy him. Zigeyr, one of the three Primordials—Goodness, Evilness, and Chaos—was a being beyond the comprehension of most gods. But now, all divine power was fractured, sealed, bound to mortal vessels. And for the first time in eons, the battlefield was even.
Zigeyr rose from the dust, silent. He raised his hand, and the world darkened.
An illusion spread like a fog, and a thousand visions crashed into Xuhuna's mind. Her past, her failures, the countless screams she had buried—each memory tore at her sanity. Her breath faltered, but her will held firm.
"You'll have to do better than that," she hissed, forcing the illusions away.
Zigeyr's expression did not change. Another gesture—and a sphere of black energy began to form in his palm. It pulsed, devouring the light around it. The air shivered with annihilation.
"A destruction orb?" Xuhuna muttered, smirking. "I can do that too."
She raised her hand, summoning a sphere of her own—blue and radiant, burning with divine flame. The two orbs collided.
The explosion was beyond comprehension. The land itself folded and tore. A column of light reached the heavens, and when it faded, nothing remained of the city below—only ashes floating in the silent void.
Both gods still stood, suspended in the air. Xuhuna's breath was unsteady, but her eyes burned with triumph. "Seems we're equals after all."
Zigeyr said nothing. Slowly, he lifted his hand again. Another orb began to form—but this one was different. The air grew colder. Even time seemed to hesitate.
And for the first time, Xuhuna felt something unfamiliar.
Fear.