"Our lord awakened not at the time he had chosen. That... is a disaster—for the astral realm, and for the world of men," whispered Gilancia. Her voice carried like autumn wind, bearing an omen of the end. She gazed at Maxcen, nearly consumed by his own intent.
"You already know why, don't you? Why he woke now?"
Huria shook her head slowly, her gaze falling like leaves bowing under a cursed rain.
"Your power faded the moment you chose to become human. When you left the sacred behind for fleeting memories," Gilancia continued. "I knew the moment you first stepped foot here. The moment they stole you from your fate."
Her eyes narrowed. "And... you married a human."
The words struck Huria like a hammer from hell. Her duty to Maxcen now nothing more than scattered memories drifting among ruins.
"That was the beginning. But the true cause… was the human who worshipped him. He came without fear, without hesitation. He lit a flame that should never have been born."
"Zephyr," Huria whispered—like a rejected prayer.
"When a human worships the King of the Void, chaos becomes his inheritance. He inherits a power that was never meant to be passed down. And the world will be torn apart."
Silence fell like the dust of death. Even the Batel Cutter, still gripped by Huria's body, stopped moving.
The Elf Elder murmured, "If that human becomes the devil's mirror, their shadow will destroy both worlds."
"That won't happen," said Huria, though her blood still flowed from open wounds. "Because from the human world, a redeemer has also risen. He'll stop the collapse before it drowns us all."
—
In Prufen, Zephyr walked toward the throne. Each step echoed with the death he left behind. When he sat, the past swallowed him—bodies of Hellseher, the corpses of his parents, and a voice that had never spoken his name with love.
He stared out over the balcony, where once the Seers guided souls. But the gap between realms had closed. No more worship. No more illusion. His body began to fade, piece by piece—like dust surrendering to the wind.
—
Elsewhere, Enver stood before Maxcen.
"Thank you for your blood," said Maxcen. "We are not so different. I grew from the tree of curses. You, from bamboo that listens to prayer."
He offered a pact.
"Judge the one who worships me. If not, I will cleanse them all myself. Including the humans you've yet to purify."
The sky cracked open. Hundreds of astral beings burst forth like wounds reopened.
"You've slept for fifteen hundred years, King of the Void," Enver said coldly. "Why rise now?"
"Because I am worshipped," Maxcen grinned. "And the one who worshipped me… is your brother. Zephyr."
Old memories surged forth—Zephyr before the altar of eternal flame, buying ritual supplies. Silent. Desperate. Full of the wrong faith.
"You must end this. Only you. Because only you carry the truth that can unseal him."
—
Zephyr stood upon Prufen's throne, showing Jassel's body to the people. Thadric looked on, tears nearly falling.
"This throne—none of you will ever touch it!" Zephyr shouted. His voice cracked, his wounds bleeding into every word.
Gilancia pulled the Batel Cutter from Huria and the Elf Elder. "He's coming. We must go."
"Where?" Huria asked, her skin peeling under Roland's spell.
"Out. Before the old man ends everything."
Roland emerged. More Dark erupted from his body like a grudge spanning millennia. The Batel Cutter danced again, cutting down witnesses like puppets with severed strings. Until finally, Roland became something else—a Nephalem, a curse that failed to be purified.
—
Zephyr laughed and burned the world. The Hellseher turned on one another. Corpses rose, killed, and died again in a cycle of horror.
Maxcen showed everything to Enver. The world inverted. Humans slaughtered humans. Astral beings devoured the remnants.
"How do I stop this?" Enver asked, his voice cracked.
"Make a pact. Handle them—Zephyr and Huria. I will release the world from this cycle."
Moren appeared, silently weeping. "Don't kill Zephyr. Tell him… I loved him. More than anything."
Maxcen pierced her head. Once. Quiet. Gone.
Enver trembled. "This is the second time I've watched a death that didn't need to happen."
—
Enver arrived in Prufen. Before the throne. Zephyr sat. The dead still danced in the silence of death.
The Red Kunti appeared, coiling around the corpses before vanishing into the crack in the sky.
"I will stop you," Enver said. His voice shattered. Zephyr trembled. Jassel's curse rose in his blood.
"Do you realize? You killed Jassel with your own will. Our parents… died because of you."
Zephyr cried. Not for the world. But for himself.
He drank Enver's blood. But the blood rejected him. It boiled in his veins, rejecting the brother who betrayed it.
Zephyr's body dried. Silent. Eyes unblinking.
"I won't kill you," Enver said. "I'll carry you. We will atone. Together."
Thadric, having lost almost everything, traded his lifespan for Gilancia. The Elf Elder helped. They fought not with power, but with love.
—
In the skies of Prufen, Huria and Roland clashed. Fire and ice. Curse and prayer. Burning the heavens. The Red Kunti and Enver's blood ended it all.
Maxcen watched from afar. "This is your doing, Enver. But I will take what is mine."
He appeared in Enver's sanctuary. With one breath, he erased Zephyr and Huria.
"Now... tell me your wish."
"Bring them back. Those who live, and those who died."
And Maxcen—for the first time—kept his promise.
—
In a quiet backyard, Enver sat with Zephyr and their parents. Huria came carrying food. The world seemed whole again—or at least, whole for a moment.
In fragile silence, they relived what had once been lost.
The End.