Arlen regained consciousness after hours—perhaps days—of stubborn resistance against death.

  When his eyes finally opened, the first thing he felt was familiarity.

  The faint scent of obsidian incense.

  The quiet warmth of dark silk beneath him.

  Cornea’s room.

  For a heartbeat, his mind was empty.

  Then everything came rushing back.

  Dryas—impaled by the very forest she loved.

  Grom—throwing himself into death without hesitation.

  Chloe—standing before him, eyes filled with worship that had no room for him anymore.

  Chronos—indifferent, untouchable, victorious.

  The grief didn’t wait for permission.

  Tears spilled before he could even breathe.

  “You’re finally awake, Arlen.”

  Aura’s voice reached him as she entered, carrying a tray of light food. Her movements were careful—too careful.

  “Easy,” she said softly, helping him sit up. “Don’t rush.”

  Only then did he notice Nyx.

  She was lying beside the bed, asleep.

  Peaceful. Almost smiling.

  “At least you are alive,” he muttered hoarsely, looking at Nyx.

  Then—something colder gripped his chest.

  “Where’s Cornea?”

  Aura stopped.

  For a moment, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “She… might not be alive for long.” She said, pointing at Nyx.

  His heart slammed against his ribs.

  “What?”

  The word tore itself out of him. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

  Aura sat beside him, her fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes.

  “We performed a taboo to save you,” she said quietly. “Your injuries were beyond lethal. Your heart, your throat—there was no natural way back.”

  She inhaled, steadying herself.

  “Cornea went with Tethys and the goddess of space to confront the gods outside of heaven—to force them into our cause.”

  Arlen’s hands trembled.

  “And us?” he asked. “What did do?”

  Aura swallowed.

  “We formed blood pacts with you. Nyx and I. The same kind you share with Cornea.”

  Arlen’s eyes widened.

  “No one survives more than one,” she continued. “But you did. Three blood pacts—and you’re still breathing. It has to be all the gods’ blood inside you. Your body isn’t… normal anymore.”

  Then her voice broke.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “But Nyx paid the price.”

  Arlen felt something crack inside his chest.

  “For a half-angel,” Aura whispered, “a blood pact heals the bonded one. But saving

  required too much. She kept giving—blood, life force—again and again. Pouring it into you until every wound sealed.”

  Tears welled in Aura’s eyes.

  “She won’t live long. She has exhausted most of her life force. She has maybe five… six months left. At most.”

  The world tilted.

  “Right now she can’t even stand. It’ll take days before she can move again.”

  Arlen stared at Nyx’s sleeping face.

  Peaceful.

  Content.

  Why?

  Why was she smiling?

  Why would someone be to save a failure?

  He lost.

  Chronos crushed him.

  Dryas died because he hesitated.

  Grom sacrificed himself for him.

  Cornea broke his promise to save him.

  And now Nyx was dying because of him.

  His breath came shallow.

  Then the words spilled out—not reason, not logic—just pain searching for somewhere to land.

  “That so-called Primordial Father you respect,” Arlen said hoarsely, his voice shaking, “he should’ve known what gods are.”

  Aura stiffened.

  “He’s supposed to be all-knowing, right?” Arlen continued, eyes burning. “Then why create them? Why create heaven like ? Why build a universe where this kind of cruelty is inevitable?”

  His fists clenched.

  “Why?”

  The question wasn’t meant for Aura.

  Or Nyx.

  Or Cornea.

  It was a scream hurled at existence itself—

  a desperate attempt to blame something, , so the weight inside his chest wouldn’t crush him completely.

  Aura closed her eyes for a long moment before holding his hand gently.

  “You know, Arlen… I don’t like our queen.”

  Arlen didn’t react.

  “She’s stronger than me. She’s the daughter of the previous demon lord. That’s why she became queen.” Aura smiled faintly. “I wanted that position too. I thought life was unfair. I blamed fate. I blamed my weakness.”

  She exhaled slowly.

  “But the truth is… I only to be queen after I saw her. She is my inspiration too.”

  Arlen turned his head slightly.

  “She once told me something,” Aura continued. “A line she borrowed from Lysander.”

  Her voice lowered.

  ‘If you can’t accept the ugliness of Aethel’s creation,

  you don’t deserve to enjoy its beauty either.’

  Aura looked at him.

  “I’m not as intelligent as you. So I won’t tell you whether blaming the creator is right or wrong. That’s for you to decide.”

  She clenched her fists.

  “But I’ll say this—don’t give up on yourself.”

  Her eyes burned with certainty.

  “Grom gave his life for you.

  Nyx almost gave hers.

  And if the time comes… I’ll do the same.”

  She leaned closer.

  “And I know our queen will too.”

  Her voice hardened.

  “So don’t doubt your worth. It’s not who decides that.

  It’s the people who are willing to die for you.”

  Silence fell.

  Arlen let himself drop back onto the bed.

  His thoughts twisted.

  A hollow laugh echoed in his mind.

  Something inside him cracked.

  Then shattered.

  Then reforged itself into something sharp.

  Very well then.

  Primordial creator.

  Lysander.

  Gods.

  I’ll prove you all wrong.

  His emotions didn’t explode.

  They collapsed inward

  Resolve.

  Cold. Absolute. Unforgiving.

  I’ll take all the ugliness inside me.

  Every sin.

  Every hatred.

  Every contradiction.

  And I’ll carve this universe until only beauty remains.

  No matter the cost.

  He sat up.

  “Aura,” he said calmly. “Let Nyx sleep.”

  She froze at the tone.

  “Take me to where Cornea is. Astrea already told you, didn’t she?”

  Aura nodded without question.

  A black teleportation gate opened.

  Arlen stepped through.

  On the other side—

  Hundreds of gods.

  Might be lesser gods.

  Boundaries shattered.

  Astrea pinned to the ground, crushed by gravity.

  Cornea and Tethys standing—exhausted, bloodied, surrounded.

  They were cornered.

  Then Arlen walked forward.

  And everything felt it

  Not rage.

  Not killing intent.

  Something worse.

  A presence so heavy it made divinity recoil.

  Gods stumbled back instinctively.

  Lesser gods felt their knees buckle.

  Even the arena itself seemed to .

  “So,” Arlen said evenly, rolling his shoulders.

  “This is a buffet of parasites.”

  His fingers tightened around Soul EaterRaikiri

  “So many of you.”

  A faint smile curved his lips.

  “Good.”

  “I needed a warm-up.”

  He stopped beside Cornea.

  “Brief me on the situation,” he said calmly.

  The god slayer had returned.

  But the hero was gone.