Silence followed the storm.
The battlefield lay shattered—cracked earth, broken banners, fading magic. Ethan struggled to stand, his body weak, the Fate Mark dim and fractured.
The Emperor recovered first.
"So this is your choice," he said, his voice no longer calm. "To abandon divinity… for love?"
Ethan wiped blood from his lips. "For freedom."
The Emperor raised his hand again—but something was wrong.
His golden aura flickered.
"No…" the Emperor muttered.
The broken Fate Mark had changed the rules. The power he once controlled began to rebel, tearing through his own body. The godhood he chased was devouring him from within.
"You broke the system," he snarled at Ethan. "You broke fate itself!"
Ethan stood tall despite his weakness.
"No," he replied. "I gave people a choice."
Lyria ran to Ethan's side, supporting him.
Across the battlefield, soldiers lowered their weapons. Some fell to their knees. The magic binding them to the Empire was gone.
The Emperor screamed as his power collapsed inward, forming a blinding sphere of light.
Then—nothing.
The Emperor vanished.
The sky cleared.
For the first time in centuries, the world felt… lighter.
Days later, news spread everywhere.
The Empire fractured. Slaves were freed. The Starborn legacy was no longer forbidden.
Ethan didn't become a god.
He became a symbol.
A boy who chose heart over fate—and changed the world.
But deep within Ethan's chest, the cracked Fate Mark pulsed once more.
Not as a curse.
But as a beginning.