The sky was dim, the kind of darkness that breathed between worlds — neither night nor dawn. Winds slithered through the trees like whispers of ancient gods, and the air smelled faintly of lightning and wet earth. Deep within a forest untouched by civilization, a boy stood alone, his golden eyes gleaming faintly beneath a veil of black hair.
Aizen Arcime had returned.
He looked down at his own hands — small, delicate, and childlike. Yet beneath the surface, he could feel the storm that once shattered kingdoms stirring in his blood. His heart beat like distant thunder, calm but immense.
> "So this is my second time as Aizen Arcime," he murmured, his voice quiet, layered with the weight of countless memories. "If fate wishes to test me again… I'll rewrite it myself."
He remembered the words of the Great Destroyer Goddess — how she claimed that her clone had slain him in the last cycle. Yet Aizen didn't know what that truly meant, or why her reincarnation — Shizuoka Aurelisse — felt so strangely familiar.
> "Shizuoka… The Destroyer God. Reincarnated as the daughter of her own sister. It makes no sense, and yet…"
"No, focus, Aizen. The past will come back on its own."
He clenched his fists, feeling power ripple through his veins. He had no intention of repeating the same mistakes. If nineteen years was what it took to surpass his past self, then so be it. He was only nine years old now, a child again — but one with the soul of a warrior who had lived and died through worlds.
> "I'll find her again… Lyra."
Her name slipped through his lips like a prayer. Somewhere in this vast, reborn world, the woman who was once his light — the Great Creator God reborn as Lyra Subaru — was alive. He didn't know when or where they would meet again, but he could feel it deep inside, an invisible thread tugging his soul toward hers.
Until then, he would prepare. He would grow stronger — stronger than the Black Lion of legend, stronger than the beast who wounded a goddess.
---
The forest was cruel but alive. The earth groaned beneath the weight of old magic, roots pulsing faintly with mana. Aizen moved silently, every step steady and precise. His golden eyes scanned the shadows, spotting the faintest flicker of movement — a monster slithering between trees. It leapt at him, claws outstretched.
A single step.
A single strike.
The creature's body split in two before it even made a sound.
> "Pathetic."
He took what was edible, storing it in a small leather pouch he'd crafted from earlier kills. For days, he roamed the forest, his mind locked between thought and memory. When night fell, he sat near the embers of a dying fire and looked up at the fractured stars.
> "Even the constellations changed…" he whispered. "Did the gods rebuild the heavens too?"
After a week, Aizen found a secluded clearing surrounded by ancient trees. It was quiet — unnaturally quiet — and perfect for building shelter. The knowledge his uncle once taught him came back easily, guiding his hands. Wood split, vines tightened, and stone was shaped by force alone.
Three days later, a small hut stood beneath the eternal canopy. It wasn't beautiful — it was simple, crude, but strong. The walls were reinforced with monster scales, the roof patched with fur. The scent of iron and wood filled the air.
> "Not bad." He brushed dust off his arm. "It'll hold."
But as he gazed upon the humble home, memories from his other lives surfaced. Raizen Hayashi — the human youth who once trained in martial arts and fought for love. The first Aizen Arcime — the beastman who waged war against dragons. Then Raizen again, and once more, the second Aizen.
Four lives. Four stories.
And yet… one soul.
> "Why… do they all remain?" he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. "Even power should fade after rebirth. So why do I still carry it?"
The forest answered with silence. Only the wind stirred, whispering through the branches. Aizen sighed and stepped inside, lying on the cold floor. He hadn't hunted any monster sheep yet, so there was no bed — only a patch of earth and scattered leaves.
Sleep came slow.
---
A loud crack split the silence.
Aizen jolted awake. The moonlight poured through the cracks of his hut as he stood up, muscles tensed. Outside, something pulsed — a faint, bluish glow flickering among the trees. He approached cautiously, the air humming with mana.
There, hovering just above the ground, was a small blue ring with a crimson gem at its center. It shimmered like a living eye, watching him. The nearby monsters, drawn by its energy, lunged toward it — and vanished the moment they touched the light, reduced to ash in less than a heartbeat.
Aizen blinked once.
> "Interesting."
He reached out and caught the ring. The moment it touched his skin, a pulse of ancient energy ran up his arm — familiar, wild, and divine. He slipped it onto his index finger.
> "You're not cursed… are you?"
The ring glowed faintly, as if acknowledging him. Aizen smiled a little — for the first time in this new life.
Days passed again. He hunted, trained, and meditated, shaping mana through his veins until his body vibrated with restrained power. He moved mountains of fallen logs with his bare hands, carved runes into stone, and created a training field beside his hut.
Occasionally, he'd stop and stare at the forest canopy, lost in thought.
> "Lyra… Mikaela, Theodore, Lina, Amethyst, Crystal…"
"If this world truly reset, where are you all now?"
He never said it aloud, but deep inside, he missed them — their laughter, their arguments, their warmth. Even the way Lyra would scold him when he pushed too hard. That warmth felt distant now, like a dream slipping away.
---
Two weeks later.
Aizen stood on a cliff overlooking a vast expanse of mountains. One in particular caught his eye — an enormous peak, carved by time, its side hollowed into a gaping cave. He could sense magic from within, but exhaustion was already clawing at him.
> "I'll check it later."
He returned to his hut, placed a mana barrier around the perimeter, and lay down on his bed of wool and monster fur. His eyelids grew heavy. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the faint shimmer of the blue ring on his finger.
---
Elsewhere — far beyond the dark forest — the world trembled beneath a distant roar.
A young girl, barely older than ten, sprinted through the rain-soaked streets of the Draconis Kingdom. Her breath came sharp, her heart pounding against broken ribs. Blood trickled down from torn wings that once glimmered like crystal.
Lyra Subaru — the reincarnation of the Great Creator God — was running for her life.
In her trembling hands, she held a small, glowing relic: a Royal Magic Stone, pulsing faintly with stored divine mana. The same artifact she once stole long ago to survive with Aizen during their first journey together.
> "I just need… to make it out of here…"
Her voice cracked. She stumbled, catching herself on a shattered pillar. The Dragon Guards were relentless, their roars echoing behind her. They wanted the relic back — but more than that, they wanted her dead.
Her mana reserves were nearly gone, her wings half-shredded, her tail dragging limply behind her. Every step was agony. But she couldn't stop. Not when she felt it — the faint, familiar pull of a soul that once held her heart.
> "Aizen… is that you?" she whispered, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Please, let it be you."
Flashes of memory burned through her mind: a different world, a gentle hand, a boy's warm smile beneath stormlight. Miyako — that was her name once, back when she was human. When they watched movies, went on clumsy dates, and shared laughter that felt eternal.
But now, she was Lyra again — and she was losing consciousness.
Her legs gave out. She crashed into the wet ground, panting. The forest ahead loomed like a wall of darkness.
> "It's dark… they'll find me soon…"
"But that presence… I know it… it's him…"
Her vision blurred as she crawled forward, every movement tearing her wounds open. The scent of earth and rain filled her lungs. Then — through the fog — she saw it.
A small hut. Hidden between roots and moss. Silent. Shielded by a faint golden barrier.
Lyra smiled weakly. "Found you…"
She dragged herself toward the doorless hut, pushed aside the curtain of vines, and saw him — sleeping peacefully, his black hair messy, his golden eyes closed. Aizen looked so young again, yet so achingly familiar that she couldn't stop the tears from falling.
> "I found you, Aizen…" she whispered, trembling. "After everything… I finally found you again."
She knelt beside him, brushing away strands of hair from his face. His warmth calmed her — it felt like home after a thousand years of wandering through cold, merciless time.
Her body gave in. She curled up beside him on the bed he made, her small hands clutching his arm.
> "Please… don't disappear again…"
A faint hum rippled through the barrier outside, as if the forest itself recognized the reunion of two ancient souls. And for the first time since their world's rebirth, the night was peaceful.
The storm quieted. The monsters vanished from the perimeter. The moonlight broke through the clouds, bathing their small hut in silver light.
Aizen stirred slightly, but didn't wake. His expression softened — as if somewhere deep in his dreaming mind, he knew she was there.
And beside him, Lyra Subaru — the Creator God reborn — smiled through her tears and fell into gentle sleep.
After nineteen years of pain, separation, and rebirth…
the cycle of gods had begun anew.
(End of chapter 77)