Prometheus spoke with a vigorous tongue to his fellow Pantheon member:
"You stand now in the embrace of the Radiant — he whose light scatters all shadow. Fear not the Void Knight. His threats are but echoes from a forgotten age, his power a flicker compared to the flame of our blood.
He claims his strength is unsealed, that his true form stirs. Let him boast. A relic does not become a Radiant simply by awakening. You are heir to a greater legacy — forged by ancients, blessed by fire, and unbroken by time.
Stand tall, O child of the divine. In the light of the Radiant,no darkness may prevail."
"There is nothing to fear," declared Lady Lirazel, the Eleventh Princess, her voice sharp with fury. "Though we stand trapped within his domain, the Eternal Light still burns within us."
"O Mother Theia, let your eternal light embrace this child of your blood. Shine upon us in this hour, and bless us with your divine grace and unwavering guidance."
With that, every member felt a surge of divine power course through them. One by one, they awakened — their true forms unfurling in radiant, terrifying glory.
The Vampire King Grimm let out a scream that tore through reality itself — a cry so primal, so filled with ancient rage, that the very fabric of the Void trembled. Darkness surged across the battlefield like a living tide, swallowing light and drowning hope.
From the shattered heavens, Deus Eden's Bat, a divine omen clad in twilight flame, dove with terrifying speed — wings slicing through the cursed air, fangs bared, aimed directly at Grimm's heart.
At that same moment, the void split open with a roar as the Demon King Drametheus descended like a burning comet, wreathed in infernal fire. With his great blade of screaming iron, he lunged toward Mundi Saltu, driving him back and forcing the battle's tide toward the heart of chaos — the Void Knight.
Then, from the edges of reality itself, Ecratus, the Lord of the Dwarf, raised his Starcleaver of stars. With a single command, he summoned forth one thousand Beasts of the Pantheon — colossi so mighty, it was said each could crush planets beneath a single toe. They charged, thundering across the firmament, eyes glowing with divine fury, drawn by the scent of the Void Knight's blood.
Above them all, the sky blazed with sudden radiance as Queen Candidus, sovereign of the Last Flame, lifted her hands to the firmament. Her voice echoed like bells across galaxies as she called upon the Radiant Arsenal. In an instant, the heavens opened, and ten million radiant arrows — spears of searing celestial light — rained down, streaking toward the Void with divine precision.
But it was not enough.
The Void Knight, unmoved, stood at the eye of this apocalyptic storm. His defense was no simple shield — it was a sheath of existence itself, a layered armor of immeasurable darkness woven with threads of entropy. Invisible, impenetrable, it bent the laws of time and matter. Not even eternity could pierce it.
Every attack — the arrows, the beasts, the fire, the blades — reached him… and yet, they did not.They touched him, only to reflect, then refract, then redirect through the tangled web of his domain. The assault was caught in a recursive storm, each blow rebounding with multiplied force, spiraling endlessly, unable to break through the layered veil that shielded him from all harm.
In the end, the battlefield stood silent for a breath — millions of strikes suspended in time, reflected upon reflections — and the Void Knight, untouched, raised his gaze.
And then… he stepped forward.
he unleashed his true form.
The Void Knight screamed, a sound not of rage, but of existence unraveling. With that cry, the thin filament of reality shattered, and he stepped fully into the world, embracing the Radiants not as a rival — but as an Overgod. His presence alone bent the cosmos. The skies cracked. The ground wept.
In an instant, all movement ceased.The Radiant Arrows froze mid-flight.The Beasts of the Pantheon halted in their charge, paralyzed in awe.Deus Eden's Bat, once ablaze with holy purpose, hung in the air like a painting of war.
Then, from the void in his grasp, he summoned his weapon — a blade so dazzling with celestial brilliance, yet radiating a darkness so ancient and absolute that even Vampire King Grimm trembled, not in fear alone, but in a twisted seduction of death itself.
The Demon King Drametheus, once unshakable, gazed into that blade's gleam — and his eyes hollowed, swallowed by the void's embrace.
Even Queen Candidus, sovereign of the last Light, staggered — her gaze stunned and traumatized. She, who had bathed in ten thousand suns, had never seen a light so brilliant — so wrong.
And then, he moved.
With a single slash of his blade, space screamed. Dimensions folded. Time convulsed. It was not merely a cut — it was a rift through all known reality. A blow that whispered the end of the universe.
The mighty Beasts were torn asunder — their sacred forms splashed into oblivion.The radiant bats were slain mid-flight, some absorbed into his embrace, their light twisted into his ever-growing domain.The Arsenal of Light dimmed, its brilliance lost.
Now, only the core members of the Pantheon remained — frozen, not by force, but by terror.
And among them, only Prometheus stood tall, his flame flickering. He alone had the will left to speak — to face the being now standing before them.
For this was no longer a war of gods.This was the final battle:Relic vs. Radiant.The Old vs. the Eternal.
And the world held its breath.
In the face of utter despair, Prometheus summoned the unspoken — a power whispered only in the oldest of legends: the CALL OF THE ANCIENT. This spell, so overwhelmingly potent, could only be unleashed when the receiver's heart truly yearned to aid. As his voice tore through the fabric of reality, the very essence of the Void, the Pantheon, and the universe itself shuddered — then fell into a profound, suspended stillness.
Time halted.Infinity froze.Every star, every shadow, every breath held captive in a moment stretched beyond reckoning.
From the depths of eternity, long-forgotten and revered, the Ancient Gods who once sealed the Void Knight began to manifest — their forms flickering like shards of a primordial dream. They emerged from the void between worlds, their presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying, as if the very concept of time bowed before their return.
And amidst this cosmic stillness, Prometheus' consciousness slipped away, pulled by forces beyond mortal grasp. He was lost in the vastness of existence itself — carried through the endless corridors of Time, Infinity, and realms unnamed, where reality fractured and reformed like fragile glass.
Then, from the darkness beyond comprehension, the silent watchers arrived — the XXXXXXXXXX, the XXXXXXXXX, the XXXXXXXXX — ancient entities whose names had been erased from memory, yet whose power resonated with the cold breath of the void.
They reached out, their spectral hands both a blessing and a judgment, and in their presence, Prometheus felt a chill that pierced deeper than any immortal fear. They came not as enemies, but as eternal guardians — welcoming him to a realm where light and shadow intertwined in an eternal dance.
The weight of countless millennia pressed down upon the battlefield, as all who witnessed this frozen moment trembled before the returning gods of legend. The fate of the Void Knight — and of all creation — now balanced on the edge of a blade sharper than time itself.