High in the sky, something astonishing was falling—a massive object resembling a limb, seemingly from some colossal creature. Its size was staggering, dwarfing even mountains, and hinting at the terrifying power of its owner. Yet this being had been gravely injured or possibly killed.
The limb bore clear signs of tearing and chopping, likely a trophy from a victorious battle. The most plausible victor, of course, would be the Sovereign who ruled this shattered world.
A giant stood gazing at the sky, his expression tinged with disappointment. This was not the change he had been hoping for.
In his understanding, the Sovereign, the savior of the world's remaining humans, wielded the power to reshape everything, to restore the desolate lands beyond this haven. He had waited daily, hoping to see the barren world transformed into one brimming with life.
But natural evolution wasn't a solution—the barren lands beyond the protected zone were vast and hostile. Without the protection of the divine tree, even this haven would have been swallowed by the encroaching desolation.
So, the giant pinned his hopes on the Sovereign. Yet when change finally came, it was far from what he had imagined. Instead of a restorative miracle, the Sovereign had tossed a massive corpse into this broken world.
"Is he treating this ruined world as a trash heap?" the giant muttered bitterly. Turning away, he no longer wished to witness the spectacle of the falling corpse, a scene reminiscent of his own transformation from human to giant not long ago.
However, as he turned, he noticed his horned, tailed son standing nearby, watching the sky with fascination. The dragonkin was clicking his tongue in amazement, occasionally letting out exclamations of awe.
"Come on, let's go home. There's nothing worth seeing here."
"Don't be like that, Dad! This is a once-in-a-lifetime sight! Let me enjoy it a little longer," protested the dragonkin as his father tried to pull him back.
"Fine." The giant shook his head and began heading home, intent on honing his combat skills to become a proper giant.
"Dad, have you seen anything like this before?" the dragonkin called after him.
"Yes."
"Wow, so you've already seen something as awe-inspiring as this? No wonder you're so calm."
"'Purification,' you said?" The giant paused, focusing on the word his son had used. He turned back to the sky, squinting to take another look.
This time, the scene defied his expectations. The colossal corpse, instead of merely plummeting to the desolate earth, was surrounded by an extraordinary phenomenon.
Streams of light stretched endlessly across the sky, emanating from the corpse in all directions like shimmering threads. As more light converged from the heavens to envelop the falling limb, it began to emit a radiance unlike anything the giant had seen.
The giant noticed that portions of the corpse, where the light gathered most densely, were dissolving into glowing motes, integrating into the streams of light. These luminous threads, in turn, cleansed the sky of filth, calming the winds and dispersing the choking dust clouds.
"Purification…"
The giant's eyes widened with renewed hope. This was exactly what he had longed to see. He watched intently, eager to witness what would happen when the colossal limb reached the ground.
It didn't take long. The radiant, disintegrating corpse finally collided with the barren earth.
Boom—
A thunderous impact sent a towering mushroom cloud into the sky, followed shortly by tremors rippling through the land.
"Stay here and don't wander off. I'll be back soon," the giant ordered his son before striding toward the desolation, his curiosity overcoming his caution.
But as he crossed the border into the wasteland, he found himself inexplicably back where he had started. Confused, he tried again, only to appear once more at his original position.
No matter how many times he attempted, the result was the same. Finally, defeated, the giant slumped to the ground, staring forlornly toward where the corpse had landed.
He realized the strange phenomenon was undoubtedly the Sovereign's doing. No one could leave the safety of the haven.
...
Meanwhile, in the void above, Muria stood with growing excitement. He tossed chunks of the Desolate Evil God's remains into his fractured world, marveling at the changes they wrought.
"How does it feel?" Demes asked, grinning as Muria prepared to throw another large piece of the Evil God into his world.
"Amazing," Muria replied, his eyes gleaming. While he had heard of such benefits before, experiencing them firsthand was exhilarating.
"I never imagined that source power could be extracted from an Evil God's remains," Muria said, holding out his palm. A faint wisp of source power flickered there—the first he had acquired in a long time.
This newfound power thrilled him. All the source power he had gained through reincarnation had long been expended.
"Of course! Every epic, even Evil Gods, uses source power. If it can be expended, it can also be reclaimed," Demes explained casually.
"Evil Gods…" Muria's breath quickened. Lightning crackled from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes aglow with stormy brilliance—a reflection of the powers he now commanded.
Although he hated to admit it, he found himself drawn to the process. Just one taste, and he was hooked.
"There's more. It's all yours. Take it. You'll need a stockpile of source power before venturing into the void," Demes said, gesturing toward the sealed remains of the Desolate Evil God.
The pieces, bound by powerful enchantments, occasionally trembled as if seeking to reunite. Though some parts showed signs of evolving into independent entities, the seals quashed each attempt at self-formation.
"All mine…" Muria's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the mountains of flesh. He paused momentarily, then asked a critical question: "Is the Desolate Evil God dead?"
"No, but he's in a state worse than death," Demes replied with a smirk.
Pointing to the remains, the golden Dragon King added, "Most of his true form is here. Only a small part remains, barely sustaining his existence."
"And where is he now?"
"Where else? In the Eternal Sky Citadel, of course," Demes answered.
Muria fell silent for a moment, offering a second of pity for the Desolate Evil God. Then, with renewed enthusiasm, he began tossing the massive chunks into his world.
As he observed the changes within his realm, Demes interrupted.
"Well, you've gathered the Evil God's remains. Now, I've brought you the final piece you need for your void journey."
"Hm?" Muria, having already prepared for a prolonged separation from his family, turned to his grandfather.
A powerful cry pierced the void—a majestic and resonant screech. Muria looked toward the source and saw a radiant white figure breaking through Erathia's world barrier, soaring swiftly toward him.
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