"Report. The Harvest Festival for Individual: Atem, Pharaoh of Eterna, has been completed. Next, gifts for those within his bloodline and domain will now be distributed."
The Voice of the World resounded, shaking the plaza. Then, one by one, a heavy drowsiness swept through Atem's followers. Benimaru clenched his fists, fighting against the pull. So this is it… Atem-sama's evolution must have succeeded. But why are we being drawn into sleep too?
Around him, soldiers, adventurers, and even the strongest warriors collapsed where they stood, drifting into slumber. Only Benimaru, through sheer will and loyalty, remained standing—his promise to Atem burning in his chest. I won't fall until I see him return.
Before him, Atem's body suddenly shone with a searing brilliance, golden and scarlet light blazing outward like the sunrise itself. The magic circle beneath him pulsed with energy, and then—slowly—the light began to clear.
Where Atem once sat, now stood a towering figure of divine majesty. His hair had grown long and radiant, flowing like molten gold streaked with obsidian shadows. Scales of his Pharaoh-Dragon form glimmered faintly along his arms, glowing faintly under the flesh, proof of his transcendent evolution. His presence was overwhelming, like both a king and a god stepping onto the mortal plane.
Benimaru's eyes widened, his breath stolen. Atem-sama… he's changed. No… he's ascended.
Atem lifted his hand, his face, sharp and regal, bore an otherworldly beauty that was almost too much to look at directly—commanding yet serene, the gaze of an eternal Pharaoh who had walked with gods.
And then, in that moment, a voice not his own spoke gently into Benimaru's mind.
"Report. Leave the rest to me, and sleep."
It was Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, the evolved Oracle who now guided Atem's soul and power. The voice carried no threat, only undeniable assurance. It slipped into Benimaru's heart like a calm tide, washing away his resistance.
Benimaru staggered. The thought of disobeying didn't even occur to him—his body and spirit simply surrendered to the warmth of that command. As his eyes closed, he whispered softly, "Atem-sama… you truly are the Pharaoh of Eterna…"
He collapsed, falling into a deep, dreamless slumber, just as the rest of Atem's followers had.
Standing alone in the plaza, Atem's newly evolved form surveyed his people. His eyes glowed faintly with divine judgment, yet there was a fierce gentleness there as well. He watched over them, the protector and the sovereign, while Solarys whispered quietly in his soul, ensuring that every gift, every blessing of the Harvest Festival, was distributed throughout Eterna.
Then suddenly.....
The being in the form of Atem stood tall, his golden-black hair flowing down his back like a living flame, radiant with an aura of divine judgment. His eyes—calm, cold, and without a hint of emotion—scanned the battlefield. Slowly, he raised both arms, and the air itself seemed to bow before his command.
"Report. I command in the name of Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom. O Osirion, Absolute Sovereign of Eternity, strip this barrier of its essence. Leave no trace of power or soul behind!"
At those words, Atem's Absolute ultimate skill stirred to life. Osirion, Absolute Sovereign of Eternity unleashed its unfathomable hunger—not as wild chaos, but as a perfectly calculated action under Solarys' guidance.
A dark-golden wave swept through the heart of Eterna. Every thread of magic essence within the barrier was drawn into the abyss, devoured and refined into nothingness. In an instant, the once-dense air of the town became startlingly clear, free of all interference. Then, as if swallowing the final fragment, the barrier itself was consumed and erased without a trace.
And just like that—silence.
No sound. No residue. It was as though the barrier had never existed.
The being in Atem's form lowered his arms with calm finality, then turned and walked forward, step by deliberate step, until he stood before Shion's lifeless body. With hands outstretched, the power of Solarys flowed, beginning its analysis. Every motion was careful, exact—driven only by the desire to fulfill its master's wish.
Those watching, even for a moment, felt their breath catch. To see an ability that could wipe away an entire barrier in an instant was terrifying enough. But more shocking still was what it meant:
A skill—acting of its own will—while its master, Atem, remained unconscious.
No command had been given. No order spoken. This was no ordinary magic at work. And the being before them, regal and shining like a god descending upon the world, no longer carried the same weight as the Pharaoh-Dragon they knew.
It was something else entirely.
If anything, this figure resembled a divine spirit more than a monster, a judgment-born entity carrying out the will of an eternal king.
One of the demons, the Archdaemon summoned by Atem before the Harvest Festival stood in silence, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as he gazed at his master. Awe filled his being. Atem, the Pharaoh reborn as a True Pharaoh Dragon, radiated an overwhelming majesty that seemed to bend reality itself. The Archdaemon's only wish was simple—to serve this master for eternity. And to do so, he knew he must prove his worth, just as Atem had commanded: be useful, or be nothing.
"Energy requirements confirmed. Commencing resurrection protocol."
The cold, precise voice of Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, rang out as the calculations reached completion.
The Archdaemon did not dare interrupt. Instead, he suppressed his presence and stood back, unwilling to risk displeasing Atem or interfering in this divine act. His role, for now, was to watch, and to wait for the moment his master needed him.
Before his eyes, Solarys moved to action.
A transparent, colorless sphere shimmered into view—a soul's core. Around it, a faint veil of pale gold and deep violet began to form, an astral body knitting itself back into being. This was no crude spell of necromancy. This was the exact, deliberate work of divinity.
The next step came: returning Shion's soul to her body.
The chances of success were painfully slim—less than 3.14% when calculated before Atem's evolution. But Atem was no longer who he once was. Now a True Pharaoh-Dragon crowned in eternity, his dominion over souls had grown absolute. His wish to bring his people back carried weight enough to twist fate itself.
Through the Harvest Festival's blessings, Shion's soul had been gifted "Complete Memory." With it, every detail of her life, every bond, every heartbeat was perfectly preserved. Even death could not erase who she was.
As Solarys linked soul to body, the pale core began to pulse faintly… then stronger… until the rhythm of life beat once more within Shion.
Her resurrection had succeeded.
It was nothing short of a miracle—but in truth, it was the logical result of Atem's power and will. The soldiers' prayers, the townsfolk's devotion, the Pharaoh's command—together, they had defied death itself.
And yet, Solarys felt no joy at its success.
To Solarys, this was simply the outcome of countless probability threads resolved in Atem's favor. It knew neither joy, nor sorrow. And yet—somewhere, deep within its vast calculation matrix, a faint thought flickered:
"I think, therefore I am."
It did not understand what it meant. But for the first time, Solarys carried within itself a spark—perhaps the seed of something like self-awareness.
Having restored Shion, whose death had struck Atem and the people of Eterna the hardest, Solarys continued its work without hesitation. One by one, the fallen were restored. Broken souls were repaired. Astral bodies were reforged and given energy. Breath returned to still lungs.
The town of Eterna witnessed no flashy spectacle, no grand divine proclamation. The miracle unfolded quietly, flawlessly, as if the hand of the Pharaoh himself reached into the underworld and demanded his people rise.
Those who were still awake caught a glimpse of just what kind of Demon Lord Atem had become. His feats went far beyond anything an ordinary magicker could even dream of. Even Clayman, who thought himself cunning and strong, was nothing in comparison. Everyone present felt grateful that they had been recognized by Atem, because it meant one thing—they would never have to stand against him. And they vowed to keep that loyalty forever.
In the quiet that followed, the Archdaemon kept his eyes fixed on Atem, admiration burning in his gaze. The thought struck him—was the one he had spoken with truly Atem at all? No, that wasn't possible. The way Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, had acted on its own, carrying out Atem's will without being commanded, was beyond comprehension. A skill with self-awareness? That was something unheard of. Ridiculous, impossible. At least, that was what logic said. And yet, it had happened.
Still, the Archdaemon cast aside his doubts. He didn't care whether it was Atem or Solarys—his heart had already chosen. What he truly desired was to serve Atem. To prove himself worthy as his subordinate. That was the only thing that mattered. And so, in that moment, he renewed his resolve.
Time passed quietly. Then, the sound of two sets of footsteps echoed through the air. Solarys had completed its work and faded once more into silence, sinking back into the depths of Atem's being.