The first divine war lasted a thousand mortal generations.
To the gods, it felt brief.
To Drake, it felt unnecessary.
He watched continents fracture as gods clashed over influence. He watched oceans boil when demons pushed back against imposed order. Angels descended in radiant ranks, enforcing commandments no mortal had asked for.
Every side claimed justification.
Every side believed itself correct.
Drake listened.
And heard nothing new.
When gods spoke his name, it was no longer with reverence—but with assumption. They spoke of "the Creator" as a distant origin, a force that existed only to validate their rule.
Some even claimed he no longer existed.
Others believed that if he did, he would agree with them.
That, more than the war itself, marked the beginning of the end.
Drake stood above a battlefield where a god of flame and a demon lord of ruin tore reality apart. Mortals fled below, their prayers chaotic, desperate, unanswered.
Drake could have ended it.
A single word would have erased both combatants. A thought would have sealed conflict forever.
But he waited.
He wanted to see if they would stop on their own.
They did not.
A god struck down a city to punish disbelief. A demon responded by devouring a kingdom. Angels justified both actions as "necessary."
Drake realized something then.
Power had not corrupted them.
It had revealed them.
Gods were no longer caretakers.
Demons were no longer balance.
They were rulers fighting over a throne that was never theirs.
Drake spoke—not loudly, but clearly.
"Enough."
The word did not echo. It did not shake the heavens.
It rewrote the moment.
The battlefield froze. Fire halted mid-flare. Blades stopped inches from impact. Gods and demons alike felt something press against them—not force, but certainty.
They turned.
And for the first time in eons, they remembered.
Drake was there.
Not furious.
Not disappointed.
Simply present.
None dared speak.
"You were created to guide," Drake said calmly.
"Not to rule."
A god attempted to kneel.
Drake raised a hand.
"Too late."
He did not punish them.
He did something far worse.
He withdrew.
Not power.
Authority.
The connection that anchored gods to something greater vanished. Demons howled as the certainty behind their existence snapped. Angels froze, commands suddenly… unclear.
Drake stepped away from the world.
Not into exile.
Into silence.
"You will continue," he decided.
"Without me."
And for the first time since creation, the universe felt… alone.