Alan’s entire body set aflame from the inside. Not from the pain of a gothic broadsword sticking through him, but by the level of subterfuge Jaeger was able to attain by misdirection.

  The Unlikely Guds failed, thinking subduing the god-ender would be enough to defend against an army twenty times their size. Now they were all bunched up—three gods huddling outside their home realms, gaping at the giant face descending from the sky.

  They’d been tricked into thinking their entire army funneled to Hutten Fie to attack the alliance’s ranks head on…

  Of course it was a trick. Even knowing he’d face his father, Alan thought he could overcome whatever trial the Red Pact threw at him. How wrong he was…

  “Alan, what do we do?” Gosfor quivered. “Token. Your fine citizens.”

  “Ayee. We all stepped off our home turf chasing the wrong chicken.” Mujungo scratched his headdress.

  “Go to your realm, Alan. Fly.” Lady Orevella called from the front of her ranks, but even her desperate tone told it was too late.

  Terrible prompts flooded his vision.

  Warning: East tower down.

  Warning: Mountain cove buried.

  Warning: Town square overrun.

  Each one struck Alan like a punch to the gut. His Saro was too far depleted from Hyndole to fast travel.

  The alliance was bested.

  He was bested.

  “Bravo, Alan.”

  The circle of Dreamcatchers jangled the bells on their nets to echo Jaeger’s applause.

  “Bravo. You have achieved the unthinkable. A universe-altering feat by connecting realms in defense of our inevitable takeover? God,” Jaeger said, “the frogs did not lie about you.”

  Alan boiled at the arrogance as endless blood spilled across the realm.

  “War, however, has a very unfortunate price tag. You would understand that better than anyone, wouldn’t you, Merchant?”

  All of the gods turned to Alan.

  “What? No plea? No desperate attempt to negotiate your way out of certain annihilation?”

  Out of all the decisions. All of the hope and despair he’d experienced up to this point… this was the worst of it.

  Each warrior dying on his soil stabbed at his heart. With every passing second, the collective Token Saro grew a little dimmer.

  “Well, let me make it simple for you. Two more armies sit in Ojin awaiting my signal to storm Strangey Town and the Royal Horde,” Jaeger went on. “Bend the knee and submit to the Red Pact, so at the very least you can watch the universe flourish from your chains.”

  “Alan. I’m scared,” Gosfor admitted. “But I know standing against them was the right decision.”

  “What the chubby man said.” Mujungo flared his nostrils. “My frogs always promised you’d lead us to catharsis. Just didn’t know that meant the apocalypse.”

  Alan narrowed his eyes. “Maybe that’s it. We’re meant to be the martyrs for the rest of the universe.” He faced Jaeger, puffing his chest as best he could. “There will always be others after you trample us! There will always be those who resist!”

  “Poor, poor Alan. That’s where you’re so very wrong.” Jaeger’s face tilted to face him. “All of those who would’ve opposed are already gone. We have taken hundreds of realms that dared try. It is only you who is left, as foretold. And soon there will be none.”

  “Impossible.” Alan shook his head.

  “It was a swift takeover. We had more realms join the Red Pact than you can imagine. The beginning of war was declared on ten fronts simultaneously. So many gods have already fallen. So many hands. The universe is vast, newcomer. Now you will feel its might.”

  This can’t be it…

  Alan clenched his teeth.

  Orevella turned from the front lines. “We are with you ’til the end, great Alan.”

  Endless Knights in orange armor seeped from the resuming portal, showing the wrath of yet another realm of the Red Pact. Death, doom, apocalypse… it was all imminent.

  No…

  That’s when it hit him. All of the frogs’ visions, all of them, were destined to come true. Except, the meaning behind them was yet to be written.

  Back in those comic strips, I witnessed the evil version of myself here, in this moment.

  And again in another I watched myself crush a realm in my fingertips.

  I’m not evil now…

  And I won’t be evil then…

  Alan shut his eyes and pooled whatever remaining Saro he had into his mind, disappearing into ultimate consciousness. The drain of the god-ender tugged on his ethereal form through transcendence, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop him. Using the warnings of Sar’fidius’ forces trampling through Token as fuel, he opened his eyes again in his ethereal form within the vast cosmos of realms. Facing the black cloudy sphere of Ojin, he soared away from his merged alliance and toward his enemies.

  They glimmered in the distance, huddled together. They’d conspired in this plane as well. But it was here Alan realized the extent of his godly powers. He was meant to thrive here.

  Filtering instinctive Red and dreadful Black into his body changed his form, darkening it.

  New Godly Title Forming:

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Destroyer of Realms

  Note: The Destroyer of Realm Title overwhelms all others in Ultimate Consciousness and can be unlocked only after experiencing a conqueror’s wrath. An eye for an eye.

  Do you accept this fate?

  Alan mentally accepted the Title, still feeling the pang of his warriors dropping like flies in Token.

  It can’t end like this…

  He balled his fists and pushed harder, soaring past beaten realms with a comet tail behind him. Green lands were tarnished black and orange with flames. Pocks from spell explosions lingered all throughout the spheres. Jaeger wasn’t bluffing about his march. If Alan didn’t act, this would be known as the flash war.

  Over before it even started.

  I won’t let it…

  He pushed as hard as he could to match the frogs’ vision. A sphere of Beige-cracked earth was his target. He’d crush it in his fingertips. He’d break their ranks.

  His conscience slowed him, however. Knowing he possessed the power to implode realms like dying stars, he couldn’t just crush an entire people. Then he’d be no better than the Red Pact.

  Even if misguided, innocent life must exist in Hozzod, and definitely existed in the Red Pact realms. It was their leaders who decided to join. Thinking of Junos in Hightower Brack was the strongest example.

  Alan would be evil if he went that route.

  Which was why the frogs decided to show him Sar’fidius—the skull-faced god—who did nothing but scout the Cerrain warriors into the afterlife. There were no civilians there. Just foolish militarized warriors training underground who were called to march and kill every innocent person on Token.

  Fury returned.

  Alan rushed so fast, his form melted into a shapeless mess of Crimson-Black Saro that reformed as he approached the line of variant realms that resembled one of Orevella’s ranks. Gods’ faces began to form on each of them, scowling at Alan.

  He could tell they were preoccupied outside of Ultimate Consciousness, but they’d been alerted of an intruder here, which meant he had to move fast.

  Sifting around their orbits, he happened upon Sar’fidius’ ugly realm and expanded his form until his hands were large enough to palm the realm. This was it… the prophecy.

  He squeezed hard, concentrating on all of the anger of his past and present. Jaeger’s nonchalance about destroying entire ways of life, Trish’s betrayal, his father’s possessed state. The universe was dark… and Alan was the last glimmer of light.

  The realm was hot on the outskirts as his hands worked to crush it. Like a grainy ball of hardened sand, he squeezed to break it to dust.

  “You are not worthy to walk among us, conqueror,” Alan’s voice grew deep and dark.

  Fshhnk!

  Skeletal spikes shot out of the realm, jarring Alan and reducing his crushing hands to mist.

  “Who dares upon the Crimson warlord?” Sar’fidius’ face emerged, white glowing dots in the depths of his skeletal eye sockets bored into Alan’s soul.

  “The Merchant who refuses to kneel.” Alan reformed his hands and clapped them again around the sphere, hearing cracking sounds.

  Sar’fidius’ eyes turned red and shot Red Saro beams straight into Alan’s face, but he exhaled a cool mist and wrapped his palms again around the realm.

  “You might have the upper hand in reality. But here? I reign supreme.” Alan dug his fingers deeper into the sphere, cracking it like an egg. “Tell him. Tell Jaeger what I’ve done here.” He clawed harder, watching the Orange Saro epicenter shine through the breaking world.

  Judging by Jaeger’s reaction to the merged realms, he never thought of this plane as anything but moving chess pieces on a board. And if the frogs hadn’t showed him, he might’ve thought the same.

  That was the answer.

  The upper hand he’d been begging for.

  David beat Goliath right here, right now.

  He flexed his ethereal muscles, condensing more power into his hands as the skeletal god writhed to get free. Sar’fidius’ Saro pooled into uncontrolled attacks. Red-bladed bone projectiles hurled at Alan, but his form just adapted to absorb them.

  Ability: Destructive Force—absorb enemy realm Saro to empower your assault.

  Alan smiled wickedly at the prompt. It was as if the universe itself was on his side in all this. So he leaned into it.

  “You’ve been goading the people of Cerrain.” Alan bared his teeth as he grew larger with every one of the god’s attacks.

  “I’ve instigated entire wars with my scouts… all to build a perfect army to crush you with—Arh.”

  Alan twisted his wrists to crack the realm further. “If Jaeger is your kingdom, your realm is one of its barracks. Farewell.”

  With a mighty squeeze, Alan crushed the realm to cosmic dust. Skeletal fragments burst all around him.

  Warning: Fel Wrath realm destroyed.

  Alan felt the screams of fallen souls disbanding by his hand. It felt dangerously powerful and wicked. A part of him hoped the entire army was already on the attack elsewhere, but apparently not. Did he just commit genocide on Cerrain?

  All of the lined-up faces on Red Pact realms stared directly at Alan now. They were no longer fading consciences but well-formed faces taking stock in their lost barracks realm.

  Despite Alan’s fears, he took time to stare them down, to let them know that this war could be ended on a whim. A part of him wanted to right now, while he held the advantage… but the good in him wouldn’t let him.

  If what Jaeger said was true—and it very well seemed to be—then there would be no universe left if Alan went around crushing all of the remaining Red Pact realms. It would be a lonely, barren existence.

  He had to rely on one hope—that these destructive powers were awarded only to him, as designated by the prompt. Then perhaps he could strike fear in Jaeger and keep them in check.

  After a vicious stare down, Alan syphoned his Saro out of ultimate consciousness and blinked open his eyes back on Hutten Fie.

  All of Orevella’s remaining warriors still stood, as did Mujungo and Gosfor, gaping at Alan. Hyndole’s gothic-sword-fragmented soul still stuck out of Alan’s chest. It seemed the whole world was gaping at him.

  Jaeger stood fifty feet above him, stunned into silence.

  He knew what had just taken place. Prompts must’ve been overwhelming his vision, whereas Alan’s destructive prompts in Token had ceased.

  “That’s right, Jaeger. The universe has wagered against you,” Alan shouted, rising off his feet into the air. “And I am its broker.”

  Saro bloomed within him since his grand act in ultimate consciousness, teeming with wind under his feet that carried him up to Jaeger’s circle of Dreamcatchers.

  “Pull back. Rethink your faulty vision, and surrender the cause,” Alan demanded. “Or all of the Red Pact will be crushed one by one.”

  It was a bluff. A mighty one, considering he just destroyed a realm.

  Jaeger’s expression lost all its smugness as Alan raised to be eye level.

  He didn’t have to say anything—both of them knew—because Alan had total control. All of the other gods knew it too. They must’ve seen it, or at least been notified.

  “If I see you again. If you try to disband your Red Pact to the far reaches of the universe, if you try to invade… I’ll know,” Alan threatened. “This was is over.”

  “This war will never be over, Merchant.” Jaeger bared his teeth. “It’s as you said—there will always be those who resist.”

  With the tightening of Alan’s fist, he froze the row of Dreamcatchers into tombs and let the platform fall uselessly to the ground far below.

  Jaeger’s manifested face fizzled out of the air, and cheers rang throughout the realm.

  Alan, however, wasn’t feeling so joyous. He still had his father to deal with, now shackled in Mujungo’s grasp, and a realm of mayhem he had to fly back to.

  A sense of urgency flooded his body as he rushed down to yank Rick alongside him and head to Token. Needing a release of the chaotic energy he absorbed from Sar’fidius, he used his own Saro to fly through Hutten Fie. He winced from the pressure of the gigantic sword stuck in his chest, and spat at the clouds breaking on his face as he carried his catatonic father back toward Token. Endless patterns snaked beneath him—all of the cities the Red Pact could’ve trampled.

  He did good here.

  Prevented the end of days, perhaps. He just wished he’d gotten to Jaeger sooner, before so many realms lay in ruins.

  It irked him that he didn’t receive any “end of war” prompts. He wondered if he would have even if Jaeger did surrender. Or would Alan eventually have to eradicate the high council gods in order to achieve peace again?

  One thing at a time.

  As he crossed the threshold to Token, he was surprised to see the sun peeking from the clouds. A sense of hope among his people? The prospect sent an extra burst of White Saro teeming beneath his feet.

  Neesha had stayed among the Token citizens as their prime Healer defense.

  Is she alright?

  Alan’s main town began to reveal itself on the horizon. The towers he constructed to defend it were slashed and toppled. An outline of Green Saro pulsed throughout the streets, making Alan think the worst.

  One thing was odd though. There was no shouting or clashing.

  He dipped toward land when he saw Cerrain soldiers kneeling. Were they… praying?

  Alan touched down and dug his father halfway into the ground with a flick of his wrist. The Cerrain soldiers didn’t even blink at the descent of a realm’s god.

  Hymns swelled in the air, making Alan worry of some collective Doomsayer curse. But these were Knights and Bladesmen.

  What had he come home to?