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Yasaka giggled as Kunou tackled her into the soft grass, their laughter echoing through the peaceful landscape of Kealthar's personal dimension. The sky shimmered with tranquil starlight. Trees bearing fruit from forgotten worlds rustled in the breeze, and the air hummed with divine serenity.
Neither of them noticed.
They didn't notice that for a single, impossible second, Kealthar had vanished from reality. That while they played, he had swept across the entire omniverse like a divine storm, purging the filth of Vorath in a cleansing inferno of law and judgment.
Not a second had passed for them.
But for Kealthar, an eternity of war had unfolded.
Now, that war was done—for the moment.
Kealthar sat alone in his private garden, just beyond the horizon of his dimension. It was a space made for silence, growth, and thought. Flowers that bloomed once every cosmic cycle curled at his feet. Streams of glowing water flowed upward and sideways, obeying rules only he understood.
He sat cross-legged, no longer in his towering divine form but in a more grounded vessel, though power still radiated from his core like a star trying to hide inside a mortal flame.
His expression was calm—but behind his still eyes, his mind raced."It's not over."Kealthar knew Vorath. He knew how the Warden of Chaos worked—never rushing, always playing the long game. Even now, fragments of the defiler's will could be hiding in narrative shadows, waiting for the right moment to latch onto something vulnerable. A story left broken. A soul cracked by despair. A dream denied.
He had to destroy the remaining fragments. Before they gathered. Before Vorath could consume them and become whole again.
Because if that happened… the Ancient War would begin anew.
And this time, there would be no siblings left to stand with him.
Kealthar clenched his fist, his divine presence flaring briefly across dimensions before he locked it down.
Then he felt it.
A flicker. A whisper across the deepest fabric of existence. Something was moving. Not chaos—not corruption—but something else entirely.
He extended his will.
And through layers of narrative and multiverse, he saw it.
A universe—badly damaged, its timelines fractured, its core unstable—was being repaired.
Not reset. Not rewritten.
Stabilized.
Kealthar's brow furrowed."Who dares repair a universe tainted by Vorath without cleansing it first?"He projected his presence toward the source, not aggressively, but with authority.
And there… within the fragmented core of that reality… an entity paused.
It turned—though it had no eyes. Its form was formless, constantly shifting between geometries that defied three-dimensional comprehension. An embodiment of higher-dimensional balance. One of the Keepers.
When it sensed Kealthar's will, it did not resist.
It bowed.
The universal fracture around it slowed and calmed. Time bent in acknowledgment."Ancient One," the entity spoke, not through sound, but through concept—thought layered in understanding. "We honor your return. We maintain what remains."Kealthar descended into the broken universe—not with power, but with form. His vessel appeared atop the remains of a dead world, floating amidst shattered moons and stuttering timeframes.
He faced the entity directly. "Why are you here? Why didn't you act before?"
The Keeper's formless shape pulsed. "We are not made for war, Great Lord. We mend, we balance. But the Warden of Chaos… he is beyond us. His cultists do not merely twist reality—they rewrite the laws we follow. We… cannot challenge him."
Kealthar narrowed his eyes. "But you can reshape timelines. You can restore what was lost."
"Yes," the Keeper admitted. "But only when the infection is gone. If we act too soon… our essence is consumed. Changed. Many of our kind have already fallen—devoured and converted into agents of madness."
Kealthar's gaze hardened. "You feared him."
"We still do."
Silence hung in the air for a moment, broken only by the distant cracking of an unstable star in the background. Kealthar stepped forward, his voice firm. "And so you waited. While narratives burned. While multiverses crumbled."
The Keeper pulsed again, now smaller. "We cannot destroy. We are not like you, Ancient One. We were not born of the Prime Flame. We do not hold Divine Authority."
Kealthar stared for a moment. He could sense truth in their words. These entities weren't weak—but they were limited. Designed only to maintain balance, not fight for it.
Still, their power wasn't small. Each Keeper could lift an entire universe, fold its timelines, even rewrite its dimensional constants. But against Vorath and his eldritch legions, their strength was like sand before a flood.
"Then answer me this," Kealthar asked. "How many of you are left?"
The Keeper hesitated. "Only forty-seven across all of existence. The others… gone. Either consumed or erased."
Kealthar's jaw tightened. The Ancient War had cost too much. And even now, the survivors were dwindling.
"Then listen well," he said. "I'm not just cleansing reality. I'm ending the corruption at its root. No more hiding. No more delaying."
The Keeper bowed again, more deeply this time. "We understand, Great Lord. Should you call, we will assist in the restoration once the defiler's touch is purged."
Kealthar nodded slowly. "Good. Prepare yourselves. You'll be needed."
With a motion of his hand, the shattered remnants of the planet below reformed into a crystalline orb, sealed in stasis. He carved a divine sigil into the air—a marker that only he and the Keepers could see. A beacon of cleansing, should Vorath's fragments return.
Then he turned away, vanishing from that narrative in a burst of law-infused light.
Back in his private dimension, Kealthar reappeared silently within the garden.
Yasaka was still laughing, brushing Kunou's fluffy ears. The little girl was dozing now, tail twitching softly, her dreams untouched by cosmic war.
Kealthar smiled faintly.
He knew peace was an illusion. A necessary one. But seeing them happy, safe, and unaware—it gave him the strength to keep going.
Vorath was watching. Plotting. Slowly gathering what remained of his shattered essence.
But Kealthar had no intention of waiting.
There would be no second Ancient War.
This time, the defiler would not get the chance to rise.
This time, Kealthar would end him.
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