Ezmelral stood in the veil of time, worry etching fine lines between her brows. Below, on L'uminix reborn plain, the GodKing stood beside his disciple and the Keeper of Balance—one arm gone, the wound sealed in a faint constellation of star-lit scars. No severed limb, no spilled star-blood remained—only the quiet weight of a week-old sacrifice.
"Isn't he the strongest in the Cosmos?" she whispered. "Did he really have to give up his arm?"
Raiking's crimson eyes met hers, steady. "The Void Realm isn't the Cosmos."
Her brow furrowed deeper. "Then what is it?"
"Another dimension," he said after a beat. "A prison grown from the Void Emperor's own body—a living cage of its making."
"So… they were inside the Void Emperor?" Disbelief edged her voice.
"Technically," Raiking allowed, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "Think of being swallowed by a leviathan—held within its essence, yet not the beast itself."
Ezmelral followed the logic to its end. If it's his domain, his laws… "In the Void Realm, who would win?"
"I don't know," he said, tone gone solemn. "And neither of them wished to find out."
"I see." She drew a slow breath, then glanced down again. "What was the GodKing's arm worth in that trade?"
"You already grasp that he was born of a cosmic-scale supernova," Raiking replied, voice dropping. "His body was forged from the blast's debris—billions of fragments condensed into a single vessel. Each shard is power. To the Void, that flesh is… exquisite."
"And Entities are their favorite prey," she murmured.
He nodded once.
Her next question came small, almost childlike. "Will it heal?"
"Yes."
The tightness in her shoulders eased. Raiking noticed, and his voice gentled. "As I told you before you saw your lookalike's face: you are you; she is she."
"I know," Ezmelral said, though the words lacked conviction. After a moment: "Can I… feel your hands?"
He extended his arms without hesitation.
She traced from his left shoulder down to his palm—slow, careful—then did the same on his right. Both felt the same: warm, steady, whole.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.
She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the scene below. The Orb of Reincarnation hovered between the GodKing and his disciple, its holy light swelling—pulse by pulse—as it gathered power for what was to come.
The GodKing turned to his disciple, his voice a low rumble that carried across the twilight air. "Do you remember what we spoke of, years ago, on this very ground?"
Her response was measured, her eyes holding the weight of that memory. "You said I would one day have to choose between two souls."
"Mhm," he affirmed. There was a thoughtful pause, a space filled with the ghosts of choices past. "Back then, you chose your parents. Does your choice still hold?"
"No," she replied, her voice firming with a resolve forged in hardship and wisdom. "It does not. Even if our paths never cross again, knowing they will have a chance at resurrection is enough for me now. My choice is for the souls who can best steer this world toward a new dawn."
A rare smile curved beneath the GodKing's helmet, pride radiating from him as he witnessed how far she'd come. Once, her immediate instinct had been her parents—a choice driven by personal longing. But now, a grown woman with years of his disciplined teachings etched into her soul, she understood the true meaning of duty and sacrifice.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, a grounding, weighted touch. "We met in the ashes of Deatheny's cleansing, surrounded by ruin and despair. But today, we stand at the genesis of something new. A beginning of hope." His voice deepened, carrying a finality that made her breath catch. "And I can depart now, knowing you are more than capable of forging this path without me."
Confusion and alarm flickered across her face. "Depart?" she asked, the word tight with sudden worry.
He removed his hand from her shoulder, letting it rest where his severed arm had once been, the stump a silent testament to his sacrifice. "I must enter seclusion. To restore what was lost."
"But—" she began, a protest rising instinctively.
He gently cut her off. "You are the youngest Cosmic Level in recorded history. You are the victor of this tournament. You devised the strategy to save your people." His voice, though soft, was absolute. "You do not need my guidance to walk the rest of this path."
"Master, I—" she began, her voice trembling with a surge of emotion—secrets buried deep, long restrained by duty, now clawing their way toward the surface. Words she had waited years to speak—after victory, after proving she deserved more than anyone else to stand by his side.
The GodKing lifted his hand—not in anger, but in quiet command. The gesture carried a finality that brooked no defiance.
"Save your words," he said. His voice was steady, almost gentle. "Speak them to me after you have accomplished what must be done."
With that, he began to float toward the Orb of Reincarnation, his form rising gracefully as he positioned his hand a few inches from its radiant surface. Essence began to channel from him into the orb, a golden stream of power igniting its core, the air humming with the promise of a ritual about to unfold.
From the veil of time, Ezmelral watched, her heart tightening at the sight of her lookalike's expression—the silent yearning, the love caught between reverence and restraint. She turned to Raiking. "Must the GodKing leave?"
Raiking shook his head slowly. "No." Then, after a measured pause, his tone deepened with quiet weight. "But if she is to prove herself worthy of what he risked—the balance he broke—then she must do this alone. She must show that another path can be forged without his hand to guide it."
Ezmelral's eyes widened in understanding. "So this is a test for mortals?"
"Mhm," he murmured, his gaze reflecting the soft light of the orb below. "Just as she now chooses the greater good of her world over her own desires… how could he choose differently?"
Ezmelral turned back to the scene, her gaze lingering on her lookalike's face—the yearning, the quiet strength beneath the ache. And in that moment, she understood: the path to the solution was no triumph of ease, but one paved in sacrifice.
Her throat tightened. As her reflection stood on the brink of destiny, Ezmelral glanced at Raiking beside her—his presence a calm constant against the storm of her thoughts—and wondered, if the time came… could I be as brave as her?
Then, without warning, the Orb of Reincarnation erupted.
Millions of golden-yellow streams burst outward in all directions—like liquid starlight flung across the sky. They streaked through the air, each one pulsing with a faint heartbeat of light, scattering like divine rain over the reborn world below.
Ezmelral's breath caught. "Are those... the souls?"
Raiking nodded once, his voice calm yet heavy with meaning. "They are."
"But—" she stammered, eyes widening as the sheer number overwhelmed her. "Weren't there supposed to be just two?"
Raiking's gaze remained on the spectacle, the reflected glow painting his crimson eyes in gold. "We don't have much time."
And in that instant, understanding struck her like a flash of lightning. The deal. The sacrifice. The fifteen years.
If the GodKing could not intervene… then he would ensure that no one else could.
Her voice trembled as she whispered the truth aloud, the realization heavy as prophecy.
"This is what it was for."
Below, the golden streams began to descend—softly, gracefully—touching the soil before her lookalike. Wherever they landed, they pooled and twisted, reshaping into solid forms.
Bodies.
From liquid light to ash, from ash to flesh.
The transformation was slow, sacred—each figure reforming with the fragile confusion of new birth. Their skin shimmered faintly as they inhaled their first breaths of air, eyes blinking open to a world they did not recognize.
"H-how can this be…" one murmured, trembling.
"Weren't we…" another began, his voice breaking with disbelief.
"I felt a blade pierce my chest…"
"Where are we?"
"This… this isn't my town…"
Their voices mingled—fear, awe, confusion—a symphony of souls returning to life after death's long silence.
Ezmelral's lookalike stood among them, her white robes stirring in the soft wind, her eyes reflecting both wonder and burden. Across the distance, the GodKing watched her, his form haloed in quiet light.
Their gazes met one last time—an unspoken exchange that carried everything left unsaid: gratitude, duty, trust.
Then, as the winds of rebirth swept across L'uminix, he vanished—his presence dissolving like starlight drawn back into the heavens.
Ezmelral whispered under her breath, her voice breaking with awe.
"He kept his promise."