​The sky above the Forest of Lamentation suddenly turned inside out.

​The dawn that had just begun to creep upward was abruptly swallowed by an absolute darkness. It wasn’t Wabil’s black fog, nor was it a dense storm cloud, but rather a pure void—as if someone had just switched off all the light in the universe. Then, in that stifling silence, six points of light appeared. They drifted down slowly—six entities with auras that clashed against one another: white, red, blue, green, brown, and purple.

​They landed before the Maiden’s star-ship, which was already half-shattered and smoking. The ground did not shake. There was no sound of impact. There was only a crushing silence—the same pressure that had made Wabil gasp for her life earlier.

​Nura of Light stepped forward. Her body appeared ephemeral, as if sunlight had been forcibly compressed into a humanoid form. Magnificent transparent wings unfurled from her back. Her eyes were milky white without pupils, yet her gaze felt like it pierced directly through Dayat.

​"We sensed the Maiden. She has fully awakened," Nura said. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

​Dayat stood in front of the smoking ship. Behind him, inside the vessel, Dola lay in a coma—her breaths shallow, her face as pale as parchment. Lunethra stood beside Dayat, her hands trembling, but she refused to look away.

​"Surrender the Maiden to us," Nura demanded. It wasn’t an offer. "This is not a punishment, but a matter of balance. A power of that magnitude should not exist in this world."

​Dayat fell silent. His hands clenched until his knuckles turned white. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva that tasted bitter.

​Narisa of Flame took a step forward, her aura making the surrounding air hiss with heat. "Hmm... you do not understand, Mortal. The Maiden is a threat to every breath taken in this world. We witnessed it thousands of years ago. She will consume everything."

​"She just saved everything," Dayat cut in. His voice was low, but every word held a blade. "Tsk... where were you when Wabil leveled Brassvale? When the Plagueborne slaughtered entire cities without mercy?"

​The Goddesses remained silent. Only the sound of a cold wind blowing through the rubble could be heard.

​"Where were you when Dalgor died? When Kancil drew his last breath? When Loy and Riri fell?" Dayat stared at them one by one, his eyes burning with hatred. "You weren’t there. You only descend now, when everyone is already bleeding, just to take someone who is defenseless."

​Nura looked at him coldly. "This is none of your concern."

​"She is my wife."

​Silence.

​Lunethra stepped forward, standing level with Dayat. She didn’t speak, but her heavy breathing showed her mind was made up. Nura glanced at her. "Lho... you are of the Estes lineage. You should be kneeling on our side."

​"Estes is my ancestor," Lunethra replied. Her voice wavered, but her gaze did not falter. "But you are no longer my gods. You let Verdia fall. You let my brother become a monster. You aren’t protectors; you are merely wardens who are terrified of change."

​Narisa snorted harshly. "You talk too much!"

​Arda of Earth raised her hand. Without warning, the ground beneath Dayat and Lunethra’s feet cracked—Snap!—gaping wide. Sharp stone pillars lunged upward with insane speed. Dayat yanked Lunethra back; the pillar missed their chests by a hair’s breadth. But Arda had already clenched her fist; the pillars exploded into thousands of sharp fragments that shot in every direction.

​Dayat activated his energy shield. The stone shards were held back, but the shield instantly fractured into a thousand cracks. Blood seeped from Dayat’s old wounds as they reopened.

​Arda stomped her foot onto the earth. The ground turned into quicksand—fine grains of stone that sucked them down rapidly. Dayat and Lunethra were trapped up to their knees, unable to move.

​"This is only the beginning," Arda muttered. She raised her hand, preparing to strike with another lethal pillar.

​Suddenly, Lunethra screamed.

​A golden light exploded from her body!

​BOOM!

​The quicksand around her evaporated instantly. Her silver hair transformed into pure gold, billowing wildly despite the lack of wind. Her eyes glowed like a newly born miniature sun. Golden roots snaked out from deep within the earth, shattering Arda’s stone pillars with just a light touch.

​Lunethra stood tall. No longer a cast-off princess or a castle cook, but the pure descendant of Estes, the Hero of Verdia, whose power had lain dormant for eight hundred years.

​Arda stumbled back. "You... you truly carry the blood of Estes."

​Lunethra didn’t answer. She moved her fingers; the golden roots shot out like lightning, binding Arda’s arms and dragging her to the ground. Arda struggled, but the coils tightened, pressing against her bones.

​But Nura moved faster.

​A blinding white light radiated from her palm—aimed directly at Lunethra. It wasn’t a warning; it was a sentence of execution.

​"LUN!" Dayat screamed hoarsely.

​Lunethra turned in a flash. She created a wall of golden roots to hold back the attack. The wall fractured violently. Lunethra was pushed back, her boots carving deep ruts into the soil. Golden-red blood dripped from the corner of her lips, but she still refused to kneel.

​"I... will not... give up!"

​Nura looked at her without pity. "You have chosen your path, Descendant of Estes." She raised her hand higher. Her light expanded, searing the surrounding air. The entire area turned a blind white, erasing reality itself.

​Lunethra looked at Dayat for the last time. No words came out, only a faint smile—the same smile she had worn when they first met in the Forest of Lamentation. Then, she lunged toward Nura with every last bit of her life force.

​Golden and white light collided. BOOM! The sound of the explosion was deafening, creating a shockwave that sent all debris flying within a one-kilometer radius.

​When the light faded, Lunethra was no longer standing.

​Her body lay still on the ground. Golden and red blood mixed as one upon the dead grass. Her eyes were still slightly open, staring at the sky which had returned to grey. There were no more golden roots. No more glow of power. Only a silent vessel.

​Dayat was paralyzed. His breath stopped. The eight-hundred-year journey of the Princess of Verdia ended here. The woman who loved him in silence, who planted seeds in barren soil, was gone.

​Dayat didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. But something inside him—an emotional hinge that had held his sanity together—snapped with a sound only he could hear.

​He stood up slowly.

​There was no silver armor. No energy sword. No explosion of light. Only an absolute silence. Yet the six Goddesses recoiled simultaneously. They felt something alien, something they hadn’t felt since the beginning of creation: fear.

​Nura stopped breathing. Narisa lowered her trembling hand. Even the rigid Arda frowned in unease.

​"What is this?" whispered Maira of Water.

​No one answered. Dayat raised his hand calmly—like someone who had just woken from a long sleep and was stretching his muscles. In the palm of his hand, a speck of light appeared.

​Its color was indefinable. It seemed to contain all the colors of the universe at once, yet it also looked like the void before the world was created.

​"This is for Lunethra."

​Dayat blew on the speck gently.

​And the world collapsed.

​The dead earth around him suddenly turned into a lush green meadow. It wasn’t a magical illusion, but real life forced to grow in seconds. Trees towered from the ground with golden leaves that whispered melodiously.

​Narisa gasped. "What on earth is this?!"

​Dayat looked at her blankly. "Collapse."

​The ground beneath the Goddesses shattered. The cracks spread rapidly throughout the Forest of Lamentation—a million square kilometers of the continent vibrated in unison. Mountains crumbled, valleys inverted. The Goddesses lost their footing. They tried to fly, but the gravity around them shifted crazily; one second they were pulled into the earth’s core, the next they were thrown into space.

​"Reckoning."

​The space around them thickened spiritually. Every Goddess felt an immense weight crushing their chests. Every sin they had committed over thousands of years suddenly manifested as physical pain.

​Nura felt Lunethra’s death. Her blood and final smile pierced her soul. Narisa felt every life scorched by her flames. Arda felt every city she had buried alive. They couldn’t move. They were forced to kneel, pressed down by the weight of their own sins.

​"Judgment."

​A black speck—a black hole—appeared above them. Small, but its gravity devoured everything. Light was sucked in. Narisa’s fire was extinguished. Riha’s wind was inhaled into the darkness. The Goddesses felt their very essence being forcibly pulled.

​"NO!" Nura shrieked hysterically. "STOP IT! WE ARE IMMORTAL!"

​Dayat stared at her. His eyes were now transparent, revealing an endless void behind them. "You will not die. You will only... understand."

​The black hole stopped growing, but its pull continued to press the Goddesses to the ground, forcing them to feel the terror they had inflicted on mortals for so long.

​Dayat stood in the middle of the devastation. His enemies knelt at his feet. But he did not smile. He didn’t even remember why he was fighting. Dola’s face faded from his memory. Kancil’s voice disappeared. Jakarta was merely an alien concept that no longer held meaning. There was only the void.

​His eyes slowly closed. His body began to lean forward. The The Creator mode that had made him nearly equal to the Almighty finally reached its limit.

​And above the fractured sky, a pure light descended.

​Not the light of a Goddess, nor the light of a Maiden. A light that had existed before the world was created, and would remain after this world ended.

​"Enough."

​That single word vibrated through the entire fabric of reality. Dayat’s black hole vanished instantly. The meadow stopped growing. The Goddesses bowed their heads deeper, not daring to look at the entity.

​Dayat was already unconscious. His body lay among the green grass he had created himself. Beside him, Lunethra’s body remained silent.

​And The Creator descended.