The fragments of the chief god's body shattered into countless motes of light, scattering across the collapsing divine palace.
Kyle lowered his blade, his chest heaving as he finally exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Relief coursed through him; after everything—the battles, the endless trials, Crystal's sacrifice—the nightmare seemed finished at last.
But his reprieve lasted no more than a heartbeat.
The divine palace pulsed violently, its walls flashing with golden radiance, and a voice—familiar, cold, and filled with authority—echoed across the realm.
"You made a mistake, mortal."
Kyle froze. It was the chief god's voice, carried not by flesh but by the lingering system itself. The broken fragments of Arkenas's divinity glimmered like dying embers, yet his will refused to vanish completely.
