Edward hovered above the ruined world, his crimson and silver robe drifting in the winds that still carried the acrid smoke of burning cities.
From this height, he could see the wounds humanity had inflicted upon itself — mushroom clouds still billowing in the far distance, black scars stretching where thriving metropolises once stood. The night sky was drowned by a haze of ash and flame.
For a long time, he said nothing. His white hair stirred faintly in the cold winds, and his golden eyes — so ancient, so weary — scanned the devastation. He had faced countless tragedies before, in countless ages, but this… this felt different.
He opened his hand and let a small object materialize from the Gate of Babylon: a sphere of dull, pulsing light, its surface carved with etchings that whispered of the dawn of magic itself. He turned it in his palm.
"It's been over three thousand one hundred years since then," Edward murmured, voice low, almost like he was speaking only to himself. "Since the last time I dared to use this… the last time I thought humanity needed me."
The orb pulsed faintly, as though recognizing his hesitation. His eyes lingered on it, remembering an earlier world — a time when gods walked among mortals and he tore open the heavens to free mankind from chains. He thought of the promise he had made then: that he would guide them, help them, believe in them even when they strayed.
Yet here he was again, standing above corpses turned to ash, hearing the faint echoes of a child's song cut short by fire.
Edward's chest tightened. His hand closed around the orb. "Even if this is wrong," he whispered, "I'll bear it. I always have."
Then he breathed in, deep and steady, and opened his mouth. not to himself this time, but to the entire world. His voice carried not by air but by something deeper, ancient, threaded into the very soul of mankind.
"Hello, my beloved humanity," Edward said softly. His words echoed into every heart across the Earth. "I never thought I'd speak to you like this again… not after three thousand one hundred years."
People froze where they stood.
In Washington, President Franklin D. Roosevelt sat hunched in his chair, his face already heavy with fatigue from the decisions of war.
At the first sound of that voice, his eyes fluttered shut. He did not know the speaker, and yet… he thought he did. His hands trembled slightly on the armrest, the sound striking him with a sadness that seemed older than nations.
In Tokyo, Emperor Hirohito lifted his weary gaze from the shattered palace chamber around him. The throne room was half-broken, his courtiers huddled in silence, survivors of American firebombs. At that voice, every head turned upward, as though the ruined ceiling itself had spoken.
Hirohito's lips parted but no sound came out, only recognition that he could not explain.
In villages across Asia, children pointed at the smoky skies, clutching the sleeves of their mothers, whispering in awe at the man floating above the heavens.
In London's underground shelters, where survivors clutched one another in the darkness, the voice reached them too — filling the silence with a sorrowful warmth.
And in the ruins of New York, where a few half-burned survivors stumbled like shadows through rubble, they stopped and lifted bloodied faces to the sky, listening.
The voice was everywhere. No one could escape or ignore it. And nobody did.
Edward continued, his tone heavy with a sadness that wrapped itself into every syllable.
"You have known me by many names through history. Some whispered, some forgotten, some cursed. But none of that matters now. I do not speak today to inspire false hope. I do not speak to promise salvation."
His eyes swept across the horizon of smoke.
"I speak because… it is time. Time for me to let you walk alone. Not because you are beyond saving.
But because I cannot keep guiding you when you choose to walk into fire. Perhaps because I tried to steer you in that direction, that you walked the other path so fervently.
From now on, humanity will write its own story. For better or for worse."
Gasps, sobs, murmurs spread across the globe. In homes, in trenches, in bomb shelters. Some clung to each other. Others fell to their knees.
Roosevelt bowed his head into his trembling hands. "God forgive us," he whispered under his breath.
Hirohito's lips trembled as he whispered, "Kamigami wa watashitachi o misuteta no deshō ka?" (Has the gods chosen to forsake us?)
***
"When I freed you long ago from divine tyranny," Edward said, his voice quiet but firm, "I believed in you. I believed you could build a brighter world. I gave you my strength, my knowledge, my guidance. When no god would save you, I chose to stand by you."
He paused, the memories weighing heavy. His heart burned with images of centuries past — empires rising and falling, innocents slaughtered, tyrants overthrown, revolutions for freedom and revolutions for greed.
"I thought, if I stayed by your side, you would learn. That you would see the beauty of life, and choose to protect it."
Edward's jaw tightened. His golden eyes shimmered, but no tears fell. He had shed too many already in lifetimes gone.
"But I was wrong." His voice trembled, just slightly. "I was delusional."
Across the world, people listened in stunned silence. Some broke into tears. Some shouted angrily at the heavens, calling him a coward for abandoning them.
In one underground shelter in London, a man screamed at the ceiling:
"You could have saved my wife! My children! And you say you walk away now?!"
But Edward's voice remained steady, carrying even through the cries.
"I underestimated your hunger for chaos. Your lust for war. And yet… I never lost faith, not truly. For I saw kindness too. I saw men and women lay down their lives for strangers. I saw compassion in places where cruelty reigned. I saw children smile even in the rubble of bombed homes."
His words softened, like a father speaking to his wayward children.
"Good cannot exist without evil. Light cannot shine without shadow. I never blamed all of you for the sins of the few."
The orb in his hand pulsed faintly, casting dim golden light across his face. Edward raised his head, eyes sweeping the sky.
"But today…" His voice grew heavier. "Today I have seen how far you've gone. I have seen New York burn. I have walked through London's ashes. I felt the last breath of children in Tokyo. And I realized… I cannot stop you from destroying yourselves. No matter how much I love you. No matter how much I fight."
All across the globe, silence fell. The sheer weight of his grief seemed to smother every heart at once.
"You have unlocked the power of the atom," Edward continued, voice firm but sorrowful. "And this is how your story will end. Not by alien invasion. Not by natural disaster. But by your own hand, tearing each other apart with the fire you forged.
I cannot fight that for you. I cannot take away your free will even if it's for your own good. Then I would become the same gods I stood up against."
The reactions were raw and fractured.
In America, some prayed in churches and synagogues, believing God Himself had spoken. Others cursed Edward, shouting into the air, "You're no savior! You let us burn!"
In Britain, families wept openly, hugging each other as though his words were the final judgment. In Tokyo, broken families bowed their heads in silence, unable to weep anymore.
In small villages untouched by bombs, peasants clutched their children tighter, terrified that the voice meant the world was truly ending.
And in hidden halls, men of power whispered urgently. Was this a god? A devil? A myth returned? But no matter their speculation, none could escape the chill of truth in his voice.
Edward closed his eyes briefly. He let himself feel their grief, their anger, their despair. He did not flinch. He had borne it for centuries.
"So I will walk away," he said at last. "This is my farewell. But before I go, I will give you one final gift. A miracle."
The world seemed to inhale at once. People clasped hands, fell to their knees, whispered prayers. Survivors in the rubble of New York looked skyward with wide eyes, daring to hope.
"I shall restore your cities," Edward declared, voice firm now, resonating like a vow. "I shall restore the lives lost today. But you will remember this. Every one of you. You will remember the screams, the fire, the despair. You will remember what awaits you if you continue this path."
He raised the orb slightly, its light glowing brighter.
"Help one another. Create, rather than destroy. Protect, rather than hate. The world is dark — but light lies beyond despair. You will fall. You will fail. You will bleed. But do not lose hope."
Edward's gaze softened. "One day, you will find your way. Without me."
The world was silent. Tears streamed down faces across nations.
"Live well, mankind. And remember: this is my final lesson. From this day forward, I will no longer intervene in your wars, in your destruction. You are free. Choose peace, or choose war. Choose life, or choose death. The choice is yours. Forever."
He exhaled deeply, shoulders trembling slightly, as if the words themselves were tearing him apart.
"Now," Edward whispered, his voice lowering to a final, quiet promise, "look to the sky with hope my beloved humanity, and receive my last gift. The Miracle you hoped for."
*****
Edward's words still lingered across the globe, heavy as chains, tender as a farewell embrace. Humanity held its breath, caught between despair and trembling hope.
He floated higher into the ashen skies, the winds stirring around him, his crimson and silver robe billowing like torn banners. Slowly, he extended both hands toward the heavens. The orb of ancient power shimmered in his palm, its runes glowing as though awakening from slumber after millennia.
Inside his mind, another voice stirred — calm, old, resonant.
[Are you certain, Master?] Solomon's voice asked, solemn as a bell. [This Miracle is absolute. Once given, it cannot be undone. You will exhaust my gift.]
Edward smiled faintly, his expression soft despite the storm raging within his heart. "Yes, Solomon. This is my last gift to them. Not because they deserve it… but because they need it. If I leave them with only despair, they will never rise again."
[Then let it be so,] Solomon answered. [I am with you, as always.]
Edward lifted the orb high. Golden rings began to spiral out of it, one after another, like ancient gears grinding back to life. They spun slowly, then faster, creating a luminous halo above him. The skies themselves seemed to bend around the light, as though time and creation waited in reverence.
His voice, once soft, now rang out in ritual cadence:
"The Time of Birth hath come; He is the One who Masters All."
The rings blazed, its light tearing through the veil of smoke and ash above the world. For the first time since the bombs fell, sunlight pierced through the darkness.
"The Time of Crowning hath come; He is the One who Begins All."
The second set of rings spun, locking into place. The glow expanded, a dome of golden radiance spreading over continents. People everywhere looked up, gasping as the broken skies filled with shimmering light. Survivors who had been choking on ash found themselves bathed in warmth, their tears catching the glow like tiny crystals.
Edward lowered his head, his voice quieter now, aching with finality.
"And now… the Time of Parting hath come; He is the One who Lets Go of the World."
All the rings ignited, forming a radiant halo of warm light that encompassed the first two. The orb pulsed like a beating heart, waiting for his final wish.
Edward closed his eyes. He could feel billions of lives, billions of voices, pressing against him. The grief of parents clutching dead children. The hollow silence of lovers torn apart. The despair of nations in ruins. He bore it all, every scream, every broken breath.
Thus he spoke the final prayer.
"I return what You bestowed upon me. Omnipotence is not for me, nor it is for humanity. My work shall be done within the limits of mankind.
But grant me this one final prayer. Undo the destruction of this day. Restore what was lost. Let there be a second chance for mankind…....let there be light."
The orb dissolved into brilliance. The golden rings spun furiously, collapsing inward until they burst in a shockwave of radiance that swept across the entire world.
After releasing the light, they fell down gently into Edward's outstretched palm. Their glow dimmed as the miracle contained within them was released.
****
London
Beneath the ruins of London, survivors had huddled in collapsed shelters, coughing on ash. Mothers held their children tightly, shielding them with frail bodies, waiting for the silence of death.
Then the golden light descended.
Streets blackened by fire reformed, stone and brick pulling themselves together. Crumbled houses rose again, soot vanishing from walls. Big Ben, reduced to rubble, stood whole once more, its clock hands frozen at the moment of destruction before ticking forward anew.
And where bodies had been turned to ash, flesh reformed, breath returned. Children gasped awake in their mothers' arms. Soldiers stumbled to their feet, staring at rifles that had melted hours earlier but now were whole.
A man who had cradled his wife's charred remains suddenly felt warmth in his arms. He opened his eyes — and she was alive, blinking in confusion, whispering his name. He collapsed against her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
Above it all, church bells rang again, restored by the miracle. London was alive.
New York
The smoldering ruins of Manhattan shimmered with golden radiance. Buildings rose like phantoms made real — steel bending, glass fusing, concrete knitting itself together. Bridges reappeared across the rivers, subways reconnected beneath the earth.
On Times Square, where a crater had been, neon lights flickered back into life, glowing brighter than ever. Billboards lit up, their messages suddenly mundane in contrast to the miracle unfolding.
On the sidewalks, where shadows of vaporized citizens had been seared into walls, the shadows vanished — replaced by the very souls who had cast them. Men and women blinked, confused, clutching their children, gasping as if waking from a nightmare.
A boy who had melted into the pavement now sat up, whole, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked around at a city reborn. Firefighters who had died in the initial blast suddenly found themselves standing again, their uniforms intact, sirens echoing in the distance as engines revived.
The Statue of Liberty, blackened and cracked, gleamed anew, torch held proudly aloft against the golden sky.
Tokyo
Tokyo had suffered deep wounds — not just the bomb, but the relentless firebombing that turned whole districts into seas of ash.
Edward had seen it all through Clairvoyance: children clutching empty rice tins, siblings huddled in the ruins, their small bodies eventually going still.
Now the light poured over the land.
Charred wooden homes rebuilt themselves, one plank at a time. Temples reappeared, their bells ringing gently in the breeze. Rivers once choked with bodies cleared, their waters running pure again.
And the children…
A boy who had died clutching his baby sister in a collapsed shelter gasped awake. His sister stirred in his arms, alive. Their bellies no longer ached with hunger. They blinked at each other, then burst into tears, holding each other tight as though they might vanish again.
All across Tokyo, families reunited. The dead lived. The burned were healed. And in the distance, cherry blossoms bloomed unseasonably, their petals drifting in golden light.
Berlin
Even the ruined City of Berlin was restored. The people embracing their loved ones with tears. Among others Hitler himself was there.
But he wasn't the same man who perished.
He gathered his marshals and spoke calmly. "
Ich habe das Licht gesehen und verfluche mich zum ersten Mal dafür, dass ich so blind bin. Geben Sie den Krieg auf und bauen Sie gemeinsam eine bessere Nation auf. Für mich ist dies das Ende meines Weges. Ich verdiene seine Freundlichkeit nach dem, was ich getan habe, nicht." (I have seen the light, and for the first time, I curse myself for being so blind. Give up the war , build a better nation together. As for me, this is the end of my road. I don't deserve his kindness after what I have done.)
He smiled gently at his men, probably for the first time ever, then pointed his gun to his head and pulled the trigger while leaving the parting words that would later be passed down after centuries. "Let my death usher an era of peace."
***
Everywhere, people screamed, wept, prayed, laughed hysterically. A tide of emotion unlike any in history swept across humanity.
In Washington, Roosevelt rose slowly from his chair, tears streaking down his worn face. "So this is… what a god's mercy looks like." His hands shook as he gripped the desk. "And we… we squandered it."
In Tokyo, Emperor Hirohito knelt beside his throne, hands trembling as he bowed his head. "Kami-sama…...Forgive us."
In the slums of India, peasants knelt in the dirt, crying into their hands as their sick and starved were healed by the light. In Europe, villages untouched by war still bowed their heads, feeling the miracle as surely as those who had been destroyed.
Even soldiers on battlefronts froze mid-fire, their rifles falling from numb hands as they stared at the glowing sky. Enemies turned to one another, wide-eyed, unsure if they should embrace or fire again.
For a moment, the world held still. And although nobody spoke it, the same thought rang through their minds, 'Is this our salvation?'.
Edward, high above the Earth, floated amidst the halo of dying golden light. His body trembled. His face was calm, but his heart… his heart was breaking.
He looked down at the restored cities, the millions of lives given back. He saw their tears, their disbelief, their gratitude, their guilt.
And he smiled faintly.
"This is your second chance," he whispered, though his voice still carried to all. "Do not waste it."
His golden eyes dimmed, heavy with grief yet filled with love. "Even though I'll watch over you, I will no longer walk beside you. No more miracles. No more salvation. This… was my farewell. From now on, your story is yours alone . So Write it well, dear humanity."
All across the world, people begged him not to leave. Cries rose into the air:
"Don't abandon us!"
"Please, stay with us!"
"We need you!"
But Edward shook his head gently. "No. You don't need me. Not anymore. You only need each other."
His voice softened, like saying a goodbye to wayward children.
"Remember. Hope lies beyond despair. Never forget this day. Learn this lesson and engrave it deep in your mind. Live a peaceful and happy life. That's all I hope for."
The rings in his palm flickered, dimming, then dissolved into motes of light. Solomon's voice echoed faintly in Edward's mind.
[Well done, Edward. This was truly a grand miracle. Although I don't know if they will remember this long, but I sincerely hope they do, and walk a different path..]
Edward let out a long breath. He closed his eyes. His form shimmered faintly, the heroic aura fading as though the world itself was letting him go.
The last thing the world saw was his silhouette against the golden sky — a lone figure in robes, hands folded in a prayer. Then the light receded, and he was gone.
For a long moment, the Earth was utterly silent. Then sound returned — sobs, laughter, cries of joy, and prayers whispered to the heavens.
But Edward was no longer there to hear them.
He had left.
But before he vanished, he wanted to do a small act of kindness. So he flew down near the riverbank where two siblings were reunited.
Moonlight spilled across the water like liquid silver, its glow brushing over the worn stones of the riverbank. Two children sat there, their silhouettes small and fragile against the vast sweep of the night sky.
Seita's thin frame shook as he clutched his younger sister in his arms, his face buried against her shoulder. His sobs were quiet, restrained, as though even grief itself had learned to be subdued after too many days of hunger and loss.
Setsuko, far too young to fully understand the weight that pressed down on him, smiled faintly. She lifted her tiny hand, calloused and smudged with dirt, and gently patted her brother's head. It was an innocent gesture, but in its tenderness it carried the strength of a lifetime.
At their feet sat a dented metal can, holding only a meager handful of rice. It caught the moonlight, gleaming faintly, a cruel reminder of how little remained for them.
Then, the air shifted.
A soft hum rose in the stillness, like the whisper of a breeze through unseen wings. A figure descended slowly, his boots touching the earth as lightly as falling ash. Edward. His presence was not thunderous, not divine—it was quiet, human, yet carried with it a strange comfort, as if the night itself sighed in relief at his arrival.
The boy reacted instantly. Seita's arms tightened around Setsuko, and he stepped protectively in front of her, his small body shielding hers. His eyes, red from crying, narrowed with wariness.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice trembling but firm, a boy forced too soon into the role of guardian.
Setsuko, however, peeked out from behind him. Her wide, innocent eyes glimmered with hope rather than fear. She stepped forward, tilting her head up at Edward with a child's trust.
"Are you the kami-sama who saved us?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper carried by the river's song.
Edward looked at her for a long moment. The corners of his lips curved into a tender smile, one touched by sorrow. His golden hair caught the moonlight, framing his face like a faint halo, though his eyes—gentle and weary—spoke only of humanity.
"No, little one," he said quietly, kneeling so he could meet her gaze. "I am no kami. I'm just another foolish human with a hopeless dream."
Then, with a subtle flick of his hand, the air shimmered. From the nothingness bloomed abundance—warm, fragrant food appearing on the ground before them. Bowls of steaming rice, freshly baked bread, vibrant fruits that seemed to glow with life.
The sight of it made Setsuko's eyes go round with wonder, her tiny hands clapping together with delight. Even Seita's guarded expression faltered, disbelief and hunger flashing across his face.
Edward chuckled, the sound warm in the cold night. He reached out and ruffled their unkempt hair, his touch gentle.
"Go on, kids. Eat until your hearts are content."
For a moment, both children just stared. Then Seita bowed deeply, his shoulders trembling as he forced words past the lump in his throat.
"Arigatou, onii-san," he said, his voice breaking with gratitude. "I hope you find happiness… like you've given it to others."
Setsuko, giggling softly, threw her little arms around Edward's leg, pressing her cheek against him as though she had known him her whole life.
Edward's smile softened. His hand lingered briefly on their heads, as if giving not only food but the blessing of warmth and protection he could not stay to provide. His eyes glimmered, touched by unspoken emotion, before he straightened.
As he prepared to leave, a female voice—gentle as warm sun brushed against his ear. It was not spoken aloud, yet it echoed clearly within him.
"Thank you, Edward. I am grateful."
He froze for a moment, the whisper carrying with it the resonance of something familiar, ancient, and divine. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"I just did what I should," he murmured softly to the unseen presence. His gaze lingered on the children one last time. "Take care of them, and yourself, Amaterasu."
And with that, his figure shimmered, the night reclaiming him. Within a blink, he was gone—vanishing as if he had never existed.
Only the children remained by the riverbank, bathed in silver moonlight, their laughter and soft voices carrying across the water as they ate.
*****
I finished it within 2 longer chapters rather than stretching it out. It was a little rushed, but hopefully you like it. Atleast this was kinda happy ending-ish 💀
With that, just the epilogue stuff reamains before you guys get what you've been waiting for, cannon timeline. I just finished with the hero origins stuff in Patreon. A lot of things have changed. So pay attention to them.
As always, let me know your thoughts in comments, vote if you love the story.
If you wish to support further and read advance chapters, visit my Patreon. No pressure, not like I'll track down your address and tell Diddy you have baby oils stored there.💀