The silence after battle was always the loudest.
Darak Varn's body had crumbled into dust, scattered like broken chains into the void. The crimson fog that once dominated the Domain of Constraint dissolved into silver ash, leaving only cracked stones and burned sigils behind.
Ren Zian exhaled slowly, letting the last traces of Chaos settle inside him. On his chest, the newest mark—Memory Seal: Clarity—glowed faintly, still adjusting to his body. The power resisted manipulation, mental illusions, and lies. But more than that, it stirred something within him—a sharpened awareness. Not just of his enemies… but of the women by his side.
He turned to Ilyra, who lay beside him on the stone floor. Her skin glistened with sweat, strands of moon-silver hair sticking to her cheek. Her breath was calm now, her body no longer trembling from the intense intimacy they'd just shared.
She stared at him—not as a goddess, not even as a warrior—but as a woman who had seen him at his most vulnerable.
"You're different now," she said, her voice low.
Ren looked up at the cracked ceiling above them. "The mark… It didn't just give me resistance. It gave me clarity."
"Clarity?" she echoed, her voice unreadable.
He turned his gaze to her. "About who I am. About why I fight."
She smiled faintly, but her eyes betrayed something deeper—regret, perhaps. Or fear. "That clarity doesn't come free, Zian. It always costs someone something."
He knew who she meant.
Return to the Palace Core
Ren and Ilyra crossed back into the central realm of the Palace, the Celestial Garden Core, a sprawling sanctuary of golden leaves and ancient marble, restored by the fall of Darak's domain.
But the warmth didn't greet them.
Waiting at the garden's arch stood Lyra.
The first heroine. The one who had stood with him when no one else did. The one who claimed him the moment he stepped into the Palace. The one whose roots intertwined with his soul.
Lyra didn't move.
Her eyes, once soft with mischief and confidence, now held a still, quiet storm. The flowers braided into her green-gold hair had stopped blooming. Her vines, usually playful and coiling around Ren's presence, now curled inward—as if guarding something broken.
"I see you return," she said evenly.
Ren paused. "Lyra…"
Her gaze moved past him—to Ilyra.
"You took her with you into the Domain of Constraint."
"It was necessary," he answered.
Lyra's voice was soft. But sharp. "I'm sure many things were necessary."
Ilyra raised an eyebrow. "Is this what possessiveness looks like in a flower goddess?"
"I am not just a flower goddess," Lyra said. Her voice tightened. "I'm the one who risked my power to mark Ren Zian before any of you."
"Funny," Ilyra said, smiling coolly, "because you're also the one who stayed behind."
Ren stepped forward, raising a hand. "Enough. Don't turn this into a contest."
Lyra looked at him now—not with accusation, but pain. "Then what is this, Ren? Another step in your path to gather goddesses like trophies? Another domain conquered, another woman claimed?"
His expression darkened. "That's not fair."
"No," Lyra whispered. "What's not fair is that I believed I was different."
Ilyra tensed, as if ready to respond, but Ren held up a hand to silence both of them.
He walked closer to Lyra.
"I didn't forget you," he said, gently. "I couldn't. You're part of me. You anchored me when I first arrived. When I had nothing—no memories, no allies—you were the first to see me. And you're still here. That matters."
She stared at him. Her lips trembled. But she said nothing.
The Palace Responds
Suddenly, the Chaos mark on Ren's hand flared to life.
The Palace trembled.
A new staircase unfurled before them—obsidian and slick with violet mist. It rose into a shattered archway, its pillars inscribed with shifting runes.
A new realm was unlocking.
From the mist came a deep, mocking voice. Calm. Too familiar.
"Well, well, Ren Zian. You've made it farther than I expected. But I suppose it was only a matter of time before we met again."
Ren stiffened.
That voice.
Lyra's face paled. "No…"
The mist parted—and down the staircase walked a man cloaked in gold-black armor, a jagged crown on his brow. His eyes gleamed with cold amusement. He moved like someone who once fought beside Ren—not against him.
"Do you remember me?" the man said. "Or did your little resurrection erase your sins?"
Ren clenched his fists.
This wasn't a god.
This was a former hero.
A brother-in-arms.
Now turned enemy.
"His name," Lyra said softly, "is Kael Veylor. Once the 'Beacon of Realms.' Now… the Betrayer of Vows."
Kael grinned. "Still bitter, are we, flower girl? He was mine before he was yours."
Ren's voice cut through the air like steel. "You don't get to speak to her. Not anymore."
Kael smirked. "Touching. But if you want to keep her… you'll have to fight me for her trust. Again."