The last remnants of the TVA crumbled to dust.
No more stolen lives, no more forced destinies.
Loki, finally free from the loom of his supposed fate.
He was now enjoying his new life with his spouse and two weird friends.
Sullivan looked at Hermione and said. She nodded in agreement. Sullivan was strong enough to face them head on.
"It's finally time to pay back what those bastards had done."
He turned, the air crackling with an immense, barely contained power.
Ruby, Yang, Weiss, and Blake were waiting for him with everyone from Remnant.
Sullivan would bring them to seek justice and revenge against the fraud gods named the god of light and the god of darkness.
Only the mighty Oum that Sullivan accepted to be the god of Remnant.
He extended a hand, and a shimmering portal, the likes of which Remnant had never seen, tore open in the sky.
Not the unstable, chaotic tears of a Grimm portal, but a gateway of pure, controlled energy, pulsing with the vibrant hues of a nascent sun.
They were finally back to Remnant.
The world that was stopped now was walking again.
Sullivan's divine power shattered the power of the god of light and the god of darkness.
They could not manipulate the laws of the universe in front of him again.
With a snap of the finger. He brought Ozpin and Salem to him.
They were killed by the gods they once poured their heart for.
They had done their best to stop the God Of Light and The God Of Darkness from annihilating them when Sullivan was not strong enough yet.
Now it was time to repay them.
A soft glow enveloped Ozpin and Salem, their forms shimmering as the ravages of divine retribution began to recede.
Their eyes, once clouded with millennia of conflict and manipulation, slowly cleared, a spark of their former selves rekindling within.
They looked at each other, not with the weary animosity of their cursed existence, but with a dawning, fragile understanding.
"You fought well," Sullivan's voice resonated, devoid of judgment, filled only with acknowledgement.
"Both of you. For too long, you were puppets in a cosmic play, your will twisted, your efforts undermined. No more."
He snapped his fingers again, and a small, intricate device materialized in his hand—a golden orb humming with delicate, restorative energy. He placed it between Ozpin and Salem.
It pulsed, and the lingering spiritual wounds, the very essence of their ancient curse, dissolved into nothingness.
The cycles of reincarnation, the endless conflict, the manipulative whispers of the gods of light and darkness—all were severed.
They were simply Ozma and Salem, two individuals free from the chains of imposed destiny.
"Live," Sullivan commanded, his voice a gentle thunder. "Live as you were meant to, free from the burdens of their games. Remnants need you, but not as pawns. As its own."
Ozpin and Salem were very graceful. They thought that they had to start over and over again.
But now they were truly free.
Sullivan after setting them free looked toward the sky.
The God Of Light and The God Of Darkness had run away.
They knew they could not stand against the elder god like him.
They were just fraud gods after all.
The twin gods, cloaked in the fading remnants of their ill-gotten power, fled through the cosmic void.
Their grand illusion of omnipotence had shattered before Sullivan's presence.
They were not gods, not truly, but parasites who had fed on the destinies of countless worlds, including Remnant.
Their flight was a desperate scramble, a pathetic attempt to outrun the inevitable.
But Sullivan was not merely pursuing; he was hunting.
His gaze, usually so gentle, hardened like forged steel as he surveyed the sky above Remnant.
The vibrant portal he had opened pulsed, his power, utterly dwarfing the chaotic energies of the gods' escape.
"Run, you frauds," his voice rumbled, echoing not just across Remnant but across the very fabric of existence, "but there's no hiding from me, the elder god."
With a casual flick of his wrist, Sullivan wasn't just following them; he was anticipating their every desperate maneuver.
He didn't need to chase; he merely needed to exist where they were going to be.
The cosmic tapestry rippled around him, not bending to his will, but revealing its innate design, a design he, as an elder god, inherently understood and could manipulate with effortless grace.
The God of Light and the God of Darkness, in their panic, tore through dimensions, seeking refuge in forgotten corners of the multiverse, realms they believed were beyond the reach of any power.
They hurled blasts of divine energy behind them, desperate, chaotic strikes that dissipated into harmless motes of light as they approached Sullivan's ever-approaching aura.
Their powers, once absolute over Remnant, were now nothing more than parlor tricks.
Suddenly, their frantic flight was stopped. The very space around them solidified, trapping them in a crystalline prison of pure energy.
Sullivan stood before them, not having moved an inch from Remnant's sky, his form now magnified to cosmic proportions, dwarfing the terrified deities.
He wore no expression of anger, only one of profound disappointment.
"You call yourselves gods?"
Sullivan's voice resonated, stripping away their remaining pretensions.
"You who steal free will, who revel in suffering, who manipulate and destroy for your own twisted amusement? You are but cosmic tyrants, and your reign ends now."
The prison around the God of Light and the God of Darkness began to contract.
Their terrified screams echoed, unheard by any save Sullivan.
Their essence, the very core of their being, was being unraveled, not violently, but systematically.
They had twisted destinies; now, their own was being untwisted, reduced to the raw, inert energy from which they had originally sprung.
Sullivan was not seeking vengeance in the petty sense. He was seeking justice.
He was restoring balance. The universe had suffered long enough under their fraudulence.
As their forms dissolved into nothingness, not even a whisper of their existence remained.
The cosmic debt was paid. The scales were balanced.
Silence descended, not a deafening void, but a profound, resonant peace.
Remnant bathed in the newfound light of true freedom, its future now its own to forge.
And Sullivan, his mission accomplished, turned his gaze back to the world he had just liberated.
The true work, the rebuilding, was about to begin.
Sullivan was about to tell them that he had dealt with the fraud gods.
Then suddenly he felt cold. Someone was trying to snatch his soul but failed.
He felt like he was meeting death itself.
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