When Arthur and the others vanished into the portals, silence finally returned to the domain. Leo remained still for a moment, before allowing himself to return fully to the real world. The weight of exhaustion crashed down on him all at once. His confrontation with the Mad God had pushed him closer to his limits than he wanted to admit.
Still, his mana was already recovering. Being S rank meant his body refused to stay empty for long.
When Leo opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the soft glow of the room. The second was Elna.
She sat beside him on a simple chair, her posture tense, hands folded tightly on her lap as if she had been holding herself still for a long time. The moment she saw his eyes open, relief washed over her face.
"Is it done?" she asked quietly.
Leo let out a slow breath and nodded. "Yes."
Her shoulders relaxed, but then her brows knitted together as she studied him more closely. His face was pale, his expression heavy in a way she rarely saw.
"Why do you look so tired?" she asked.
Leo hesitated, then began to explain. He told her about the Mad God's descent, about Rosie being targeted, about Alad's intervention. But he cut an small part.
"You saw your family?" she said when he finished, her voice warm despite the tension.
Leo nodded, a faint smile forming. "I did."
For a moment, that smile lingered, small, quiet, but genuine.
"The enemy already knows who I am," he continued. "There's no point in hiding anymore."
Elna's expression darkened. "But won't the Mad God attack them again? You can't always be there, Leo."
"I know," he said calmly. "That's why Alad will protect them for now. He's far stronger than I am at the moment."
She exhaled slowly, accepting the answer even if it didn't fully ease her worries.
After a brief silence, Leo straightened. "Are we ready to go?"
Elna nodded without hesitation. "Everything is prepared."
Leo rose to his feet. "Then let's go."
They stepped outside the castle together. Alina, Paul and the others were already waiting.
"Is it time already?" Orane asked softly. There was a faint tremor in her voice. Years spent together in the Maze had forged bonds deeper than words, and though she never said it aloud, her feelings were clear.
Leo met her gaze and nodded. "Yes. I'm leaving the Shadowland in your hands."
One by one, they exchanged goodbyes. Some were brief, others lingering. When Leo finally reached Paul, the two stood facing each other in silence for a moment.
"Protect everyone," Leo said at last.
"I will," Paul replied, smiling warmly, his voice steady with resolve.
Leo lifted his hand. Mana flowed effortlessly, shaping itself into form, and a floating carpet appeared before them.
"Let's go," Leo said as he stepped onto it.
Elna blinked in surprise but quickly followed, gripping the edge just as the carpet lifted from the ground.
In the next instant, it surged forward, rising sharply into the sky.
"Ah—!" Elna let out a small scream, instinctively grabbing onto Leo as the world dropped away beneath them.
Leo laughed softly, the sound carried away by the rushing air, as they flew toward what awaited them next.
…
After a few moment, once Elna finally overcame her fear, she loosened her grip and began to look around, a wide smile spreading across her face. She had flown before, but almost always during battle, amid chaos, fear, and urgency. This time was different. The wind brushed gently against her cheeks, cool and clean, carrying the faint scent of shadowland. It felt freeing, almost playful.
For the first time in a long while, she simply enjoyed the moment.
Then a subtle unease crept into her thoughts.
She focused on the path ahead and frowned slightly. Even within the Shadowland, directions mattered, and years of living there had etched its flow into her instincts. The route they were taking was wrong.
"Where are we going?" she asked, turning to Leo.
"We're going somewhere else first," Leo replied, his voice light, a small smile on his lips.
Elna tilted her head. "Where?"
"You'll see soon."
She studied him for a second, searching his expression, but then turned her gaze forward again. The air slowly began to change. The darkness of the Shadowland softened, shadows thinning, as a warm glow appeared in the distance.
At first it was only a shimmer.
Then, gradually, the outline of something vast emerged from the gloom, a towering presence that seemed to exist half in light, half in reverence.
A massive tree rose before them, its crown stretching far beyond sight. Its leaves were a deep, radiant gold, each one catching and reflecting light like a living flame. The closer they came, the more the air shimmered, heavy with life and quiet power.
Elna's breath caught.
"Why are we here?" she asked softly.
Leo slowed the carpet. "I thought it would be nice to see it up close before we leave," he said. "It's beautiful."
They drifted higher, moving along the upper reaches of the tree. Branches as wide as towers stretched outward, supporting entire canopies of glowing leaves. Streams of golden light flowed gently through the bark, pulsing like a heartbeat, and faint motes of mana drifted lazily through the air like fireflies.
The carpet descended and settled gently onto a massive branch near the top, so high that the rest of the Shadowland lay far below them, muted and distant.
Elna stepped off slowly, her eyes wide with awe.
From this height, the tree illuminated everything, its light spilling outward, pushing back darkness, bathing the world in a warm, golden glow. The leaves whispered softly, not with sound, but with presence, as if the tree itself was alive and watching over all beneath it.
Elna stood in silence, her heart strangely full.
For a brief moment, with the wind stirring the golden leaves and light dancing across the endless sky, it felt like the world was at peace.
And before the journey ahead, that was enough. But it wasn't over.
…
In a realm forged of light itself, Vergil Sylvian sat patiently upon a throne of gold. Radiance flowed through the air like a living sea, bending around his presence in silent reverence. Time held no meaning here. He had already waited ages; a few more months were insignificant.
Soon, the seals would break. When they did, he would release the Destroyer.
With its awakening, the remaining gods would fall, one by one, and together they would challenge the Void itself. Even that endless nothingness would be forced to yield.
And when it was over, when gods and chaos alike were erased, they would stand alone.
From the ashes of the old, a new world would be created. A world shaped by their will alone. A world without conflict, without betrayal.
A world of peace.
And Vergil knew, as all gods must, that no true peace was born without sacrifice.
…
High among the branches, where golden leaves whispered softly in the eternal light, Leo walked beside Elna in silence. The vast tree stretched around them like a living cathedral, its glow warm and steady, as if bearing witness.
He stopped and turned to her.
"I don't know what the future holds," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight behind the words. "The path ahead is dangerous, and nothing is certain. But I know this, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
He reached out and took Elna's hand. The warmth of her fingers grounded him more than any magic ever had.
"In the world I came from," he continued, "we give a diamond ring to the one we love. It's a promise. Not of safety or ease, but of staying together no matter what comes."
Leo lowered himself onto one knee. Light gathered in his palm, shaping itself into a simple diamond ring, clear and flawless, reflecting the golden glow of the tree.
"Elna Arryn," he said, meeting her eyes, "will you marry me?"
For a heartbeat, she only stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. Then her expression softened, emotion shining through as a radiant smile spread across her face.
"Yes," she said, her voice trembling with joy. "I will."
Leo slipped the ring onto her finger, his own smile mirroring hers as he stood. They stepped closer, the world around them fading into quiet light, and shared a kiss beneath the golden canopy, an unspoken vow sealed not by magic, but by choice.
…
In a place that was filled with fire and ash, the land itself seemed to be in the throes of a slow, eternal combustion. Rivers of molten fire crawled through the ground like glowing veins, illuminating a wasteland of blackened stone and jagged spires. The sky hung low and heavy, choked with ash and smoke, its clouds stained crimson by the reflected glow of the inferno below. Heat distorted the air, bending the horizon into a wavering mirage, while distant eruptions pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying world. Everywhere, the earth rose in cruel, organic shapes, spines, ridges, and towers of rock that looked less formed than grown, as if the land itself had been sculpted by suffering.
From this burning expanse rose a colossal skeleton, half-buried and half-born from the lava seas. Its skull dominated the landscape, vast beyond reason, its eye sockets glowing like furnaces and its gaping mouth frozen in a silent scream. The bone was not pale, but charred and darkened, veined with cracks that leaked molten light, as though fire burned within it still. Spires and battlements erupted from the skull's crown and jawline, transforming the remains into something more than a corpse, a fortress grown from death itself.
Within the skull, beyond the molten-lit teeth, lay a cavernous hall. The interior walls curved like the inside of a ribcage, carved smooth by ages of heat and smoke, their surfaces etched with ancient symbols and scorched reliefs. Lava flowed in channels along the floor, casting a restless orange glow that replaced torchlight. At the far end of this hall, elevated above the rivers of fire, stood a throne carved from obsidian and bone, and upon it sat a man.
He sat upon the throne as if it had been shaped for no other purpose than to bear his weight. His form was vast and imposing, a presence that seemed to press outward against the air itself. Skin like molten stone stretched over a frame carved with power, glowing fissures running through his chest and arms like living veins of fire. Each breath caused those cracks to flare brighter, as though the furnace within him stirred with patient, restrained fury.
A crown of jagged horns rose from his head, curving and branching like blackened iron pulled from the heart of a volcano. Beneath them burned a face of living flame, no simple fire, but a controlled, deliberate blaze that gave shape to his features. His eyes were infernos given focus, twin cores of heat and awareness that watched without haste, without doubt. They did not search the world; they waited for it to come to them.
His armor was fused to him rather than worn, dark metal bound with runes and scorched filigree, wrapped around his limbs like the remnants of some ancient war. Chains of fire coiled loosely around his arms, not restraining him, but answering his will. Even at rest, his strength was unmistakable, an impression that this throne room, this castle, this burning world existed only because he allowed it to endure.
Flames gathered behind him like wings half-formed, rising and falling in slow, rhythmic waves. The throne beneath him glowed at the edges, stone softening under his presence, yet never daring to break. He did not move, did not need to. Time itself seemed to slow in deference, each moment stretching long and heavy beneath his gaze.
He was waiting, not in impatience, but in certainty. And then, slowly, deliberately, his burning mouth turned into a smile.
End of Volume 3: Rise Of The Creator