Ezmelral and Raiking materialized in the vast emptiness of space, stars swirling around them like distant fireflies in an infinite void. Below, a colossal garden floated serenely above a vibrant planet, its lush greenery defying the vacuum—vines twisting like living art, flowers blooming in ethereal hues. At its heart stood a giant temple, its spires piercing the cosmos like defiant spears, and behind it loomed an even more immense tree, its branches sprawling across the heavens, roots delving into the stars themselves.
"Where... where are we now?" Ezmelral whispered, her voice small against the grandeur, eyes wide as she clutched Raiking's cloak.
"A hundred years after the events we just witnessed," Raiking replied, his tone steady as he gestured downward. "Outside the GodKing's Great Temple, at the universe's core—above Planet Eden, where all Entities dwell. This is the Garden of Eden, home to the GodKing and his Master."
Ezmelral's gaze swept the scene, awe mingling with a spark of judgment. "The GodKing chooses not to live among his kin... but above them. He really is arrogant, huh?"
Not just Raiking, but the GodKing himself—who lounged casually on the temple steps, one leg propped up, a gourd in his hand as he leaned back against the Sacred Tree's massive trunk—let out a very similar small smile beneath his helmet, a subtle curve that hinted at amusement echoing across the void.
Then, just as the GodKing raised the gourd to his lips, lightning marks etched across the stars like fractures in reality's canvas. A burst of electric fury struck between the Great Temple and the Sacred Tree, lingering as a jagged wound in the air, crackling with untamed power.
From the rift stepped a boot—heavy, deliberate—followed by the rest of a towering warrior, his form emerging like thunder given flesh. He was clad in segmented black armor, etched with faint cobalt lines that pulsed like veins of storm. Over it draped a flowing kilt of deep blue and burnished gold, billowing like banners from a forgotten empire. A wide collar of intricate beadwork—patterns of orange, white, and turquoise in geometric precision—adorned his chest, a emblem of heritage and unyielding command. In his grip rested a long, double-tipped spear, its crystalline edges shimmering with a cold, lethal glow. His expression was stern, etched with the scars of battles and burdens, as if he carried not just weapons, but the fate of worlds on his broad shoulders.
"Uncle," Shona said, his voice resonating like distant thunder.
Ezmelral blinked in confusion, her brow furrowing as she glanced between the armored GodKing and the warrior—Shona—who had emerged from the crackling rift. "How can they be related?" she asked Raiking, her voice laced with bewilderment. "That man from the lightning... he's clearly black. And the GodKing is white."
Raiking's gaze remained fixed on the scene, his tone steady and instructive, like a teacher unveiling hidden layers of the world. "Entities aren't born like mortals, child. They're forged from the same primal source—the Cosmic Will."
"The Cosmic Will?" she echoed, the term tugging at a memory. She'd heard the elders in the temple whisper it before, like a sacred invocation.
He nodded, gesturing to the vast starry expanse around them, as if the universe itself were listening.
"The Cosmic Will is the Cosmos—an ever-present, unseeable force that shapes all. When a planet, galaxy, or even the cosmos undergoes a Cosmic Supernova—a cataclysmic rebirth—the souls of the fallen mortals merge to form the Spirit. The shattered debris crafts the flesh, and the supernova's lingering residue hardens into bones."
"And the GodKing..." she murmured, piecing it together, "he's the only one born from a cosmos-scale supernova?"
"Precisely," Raiking confirmed. "That makes him unparalleled—the pinnacle of power."
Ezmelral's eyes lit up with sudden insight. "So that's the scaling for Entities? Planetary, Universal... and Cosmic? It explains how he overpowered those others so easily—like they were nothing."
But before Raiking could respond, a strange drip caught her eye. From the GodKing's gourd, a viscous liquid spilled—not falling to the ground, but splitting mid-air into small, quivering circles that hovered before him like obedient orbs. With a casual flick of his wrist, a shockwave erupted—sending the droplets rocketing toward Shona like liquid bullets, the air humming with unleashed force.
Shona's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with raw anticipation, a warrior's hunger for the clash etched in every line of his face. Then, from his left side—just below his original arm—two more limbs sprouted, sinewy and powerful, unfurling like branches from a storm-hardened tree. To his right, another arm expanded outward, matching the others in lethal grace.
"What the..." Ezmelral stammered, her voice a hushed gasp, eyes wide as she stared at the impossible transformation.
Raiking's tone remained steady, instructive amid the brewing storm. "His name is Shona. A Half-Entity—born from a Universal Entity mother and a mortal father."
Ezmelral blinked, her mind reeling. "Mortals and Entities can... love? Fall in love?"
"They couldn't, at this time," Raiking replied, his gaze fixed on the scene. "It was forbidden—a taboo etched into cosmic law. But the GodKing cared little for such rules. Who else, except those Elders we saw, would dare enforce it in his shadow?"
The pieces clicked in Ezmelral's mind like shards of a shattered mirror reforming—the Elders' furious pleas in the temple, the GodKing's dismissive arrogance. It wasn't just defiance; it was a spark to their feud. "Is that why the Elders and the GodKing fought earlier?" she asked aloud, seeking confirmation.
Raiking nodded once, silent affirmation.
She refocused on the unfolding battle, the air thick with tension. Shona's spear hovered before him, gleaming with crystalline menace, then split seamlessly into five identical weapons—each one humming with latent power. With his five arms moving in perfect sync, he seized them, one per hand, and exploded into motion. The liquid bullets hurtled toward him like a barrage of molten silver, the air vibrating with their unleashed fury.
Shona danced through the assault—spears whirling in a deadly ballet, slicing and dicing the projectiles with surgical precision. Droplets exploded on impact, scattering like shattered stars, his arms a blur of cobalt-traced armor and unerring strikes, turning the GodKing's casual attack into harmless mist that evaporated in the cosmic wind.
Shona's smile sharpened, his eyes alight with battle-forged thrill. With his upper right arm, he hurled his spear forward—it blitzed past the water bullets in a crackling streak, trailing arcs of lightning like a storm's furious bolt unleashed. The weapon hurtled toward the GodKing, who raised two fingers casually, catching it between them with effortless precision. He spun the spear on his fingertip, reversing its momentum in a blur, then tapped its haft lightly. The weapon rocketed back toward Shona with ferocious speed, amplified tenfold, the air howling in its wake.
Shona's expression hardened, sensing the overwhelming power surging back at him. He summoned his four remaining spears, fusing them into one colossal shaft before him. Channeling his Lightning Essence, he imbued the weapon, coating it in a sheath of pure, crackling electricity that danced like living thunder. With all five arms pulling back in unison, he slammed them forward—the Lightning Spear exploded outward, hurtling on a collision course with the returning projectile.
The two spears closed in, the space between them warping as reality frayed—a void splitting open like a wound in the cosmos. From the rift emerged a woman with ten arms, her form radiating unassailable power. In a single, fluid motion, she caught both spears in two of her many hands and crushed them to dust, the remnants scattering like sparks in the wind.
"Mother," Shona said, his voice a mix of respect and restraint, lowering his arms as the energy dissipated.
She fixed him with a stern gaze, her presence quelling the storm's aftermath. "This matter is urgent—enough of your foolish games." Turning to the GodKing, she inclined her head slightly. "We must speak. Now."
Raiking's gaze lingered on the departing figure, his tone heavy with reverence. "She is Ta'Narsha, the Keeper of Balance. When a planet's scales tip too far to one side—be it light or dark—a great disaster must befall it, restoring equilibrium."
Ezmelral's brow furrowed, sensing the gravity in his words, the way they hung like storm clouds ready to burst. "What exactly is... the great disaster?" She could tell by the somber shift in his voice that it was no mere fable, but a force as inevitable as the tides.
He met her eyes, his expression unreadable, the weight of eons pressing down. "The Flood."