The remnants of the Heavenly Court are no longer calm. Cracks spread across golden floors, and divine light flickers as if Heaven itself has begun to feel fear. The Gods whisper among themselves—Raiyen has killed Judgment, returned from beyond time, and grown stronger.
Yet what frightens them most is not his strength.
It is the fact that he is waiting.
Their gazes fall upon an empty throne—the seat of the God of Light. His continued absence weighs heavily over the court. While others panic, his silence is the most terrifying presence of all.
An ancient deity steps forward: the God of Chains. He declares that the Gods will not confront Raiyen directly—not yet. Instead, they will slow him down. Sealed realms, cursed zones, false enemies—traps designed not to kill, but to exhaust his patience and control.
Raiyen's rage, they believe, is his greatest strength.
And therefore, his weakness.
For the first time, the Gods choose defense.
Far below, in the ruins of a dead city, Raiyen senses the shift immediately. His Soul Flame vibrates faintly, and the Godslayer Sigil issues a warning—interference detected. Reality around him feels tighter, distorted.
Raiyen understands at once.
The Gods have begun to move.
From the shadows, Veyra briefly appears, warning him that sealed zones have been activated—entering them will cause unnecessary drain. Raiyen refuses assistance without hesitation. Korrin offers only a quiet piece of advice: not every trap needs to be broken.
Then the shadows retreat once more.
Raiyen deliberately steps into one of the sealed zones.
The moment he enters, gravity intensifies, Soul Flame resistance activates, and cursed energy rebounds against him. This zone—the Silence Field—suppresses all power output. The Gods intend to make him feel helpless, to shatter his patience.
Raiyen closes his eyes.
No flames.
No rage.
Only body.
Only will.
He walks forward slowly, each step heavy with pain, each breath strained—yet he smiles.
Watching from Heaven, one God claims Raiyen is struggling. The God of Chains corrects him—Raiyen is adapting.
At the center of the Silence Field, Raiyen stops. He does nothing. No energy, no resistance, no response. The trap falters, unable to drain what is not being used. Cracks spread across the sealed zone.
Raiyen speaks calmly.
They cannot tire him.
They can only teach him.
The Silence Field collapses.
With clarity sharpened, Raiyen changes his approach. He realizes the Gods are forcing him into pursuit—so he rewrites the rules. Instead of hunting the Gods themselves, he begins targeting their systems: temples, seals, divine supply points.
Slow.
Calculated.
Irreversible.
Back in the Heavenly Court, alarms ring out as multiple divine anchors begin going offline. The Gods are stunned. This is not brute force—it is war strategy.
At last, the God of Light opens his eyes.
He says nothing.
But one thought crosses his mind as Heaven trembles:
Raiyen has learned patience.