The Forgotten Hell – Trials of Ascension
Darkness swirled beyond the edge of sanity.
Time had lost meaning.
The screams… had not.
Beneath a shattered sky, the world cracked with crimson light.
Chains of divine steel held him suspended in the air—arms stretched wide, feet dangling just above scorched ground that bled molten energy. Each link pulsed with sigils of punishment, flaring whenever he moved.
And above… it descended.
CRACK!!
A bolt of red lightning tore through the clouds and slammed into his chest, splitting the air with a deafening boom. Flesh ruptured. Bone cracked. The smell of burnt blood filled the air.
"GAHHH—!!"
Alter's scream echoed through the trial realm, raw and broken, throat ragged from hours—days—months of unrelenting agony.
His eyes, once clear, now wept blood.
The veins across his arms pulsed violently, a map of suffering traced by crimson sparks. His body twitched uncontrollably as another bolt struck—then another. And another.
The red lightning wasn't natural. It was heavenly judgment incarnate—Tribulation Lightning, but far worse than what mortals faced.
This wasn't just pain.
This was divine rejection.
Every bolt screamed:
You are not worthy.
And still he endured.
His skin peeled in layers. His muscles spasmed beyond control. His mind... cracked and stitched itself back together, only to crack again. Each cycle more violent than the last.
He had spent nine months in the Labyrinth of Isolation before this.
Nine months of silence, hallucinations, and despair.
And now?
This was the second trial.
One of seven.
Each bolt of red lightning was heavier than the last. Each surge was calculated to annihilate the very concept of existence. Yet Alter—not a god, not even ascended—took them. Screamed. Shook. And lived.
His system was silent.
No help. No Seraphina. No healing prompts.
Only pain. And the growing whisper of something else…
"...Endure, and the heavens shall tremble…"
"SHUT… UP!!"
He roared at the sky, throat shredding open again. Blood poured down his jaw, fangs bared in defiance.
The lightning answered with fury.
CRRRAAAACK!!!
A final bolt slammed down, sending shockwaves that flattened the ground in every direction. The chains snapped. Alter's body hit the earth hard—burning, broken, still alive.
Smoke rose from his back.
His limbs twitched.
His mouth opened in a voiceless gasp.
Yet his fingers curled into the dirt.
He hadn't died.
He hadn't given up.
He couldn't.
Because beyond this pain—beyond this hell—was something more.
The lightning had ended.
But there was no peace.
Only a new torment.
A low rumble cracked through the horizon as the sky split apart once more. This time, it wasn't thunder. It was groaning weight—as if the heavens themselves were being crushed.
Above Alter… it emerged.
An ice glacier.
Not a mountain.
Not a continent.
A glacier the size of a planet, suspended in the sky by divine intent. Its surface glittered with jagged crystal towers, frozen storms swirling across its ridged peaks. It hung above him like a dying moon.
And then—
It fell.
A fraction.
An inch.
Enough to make the world scream.
BOOOOMM—!!
The air compressed in an instant, flattening the trees into splinters, cratering the land, and shattering mountains in the distance.
And Alter—
His knees bent.
His back cracked.
And blood exploded from his mouth.
"Ghk—!!"
He hit the ground on all fours as the gravity slammed into him like an ocean turned solid. **Not physical weight—**it was divine pressure, simulated to represent the glacier's unimaginable mass. A force calculated to erase.
Every bone groaned under the pressure.
Every joint screamed for relief.
His organs were shifting—crushing—his lungs couldn't expand.
"One breath," he told himself. "Just one…"
His eyes were wild, blood trailing from the corners.
He forced one knee upward.
Then another.
And tried—
—to stand.
The glacier dropped another inch.
KRAK—!!
His left leg shattered at the femur. He dropped again with a hoarse scream, teeth gritted, forehead slamming into the ground hard enough to split it open. Blood smeared the stone. His vision blurred.
But still…
His fingers twitched.
"One… breath…"
He dragged his chest up with one arm, wheezing like a dying beast.
The pressure pulsed—his skin cracked open. Muscles frayed. **His heart stopped—**for a second—then pounded again.
A shadow loomed above him.
No, not a person.
Just the glacier.
Closer now.
He was beneath it.
Not metaphorically—literally.
As if the sky itself wanted him to yield.
"You will break," it seemed to whisper.
But Alter growled low. Bloody foam spilled from his lips.
"Then I'll break. And break again. Until you run out of me to crush."
With a roar that echoed across the broken realm, he forced his arm up again.
His back arched.
He stood.
Broken leg. Shattered ribs. Internal bleeding. Hair wild with frost and lightning scars.
But he stood.
His body trembled. His arms barely raised. But he had endured Red Tribulation Lightning, and now—
He stared into the frozen mass above him.
And he screamed.
A guttural cry that echoed with rage, pain, and defiance.
The glacier paused.
As if uncertain.
There was no warning.
No tremor.
No voice.
No sign.
One breath he was beneath the glacier…
The next—
—silence.
The crushing weight vanished.
The world faded.
The pain, the blood, the lightning—
Gone.
And Alter stood alone in blackness.
An infinite void.
No sound.
No light.
No direction.
Just… him.
A heartbeat pulsed.
Then another.
Slower.
Louder.
thump…
He turned.
Nothing.
He tried to move.
No sensation.
Then—
A voice. His own voice.
"You survived the pain. But you won't survive me."
A figure emerged from the dark.
Himself.
But untouched by battle. No blood. No scars.
Golden eyes glowing. Calm, cold, cruel.
"You're not supposed to exist," the clone said.
"You're just a broken echo left behind by a man who lost everything."
Alter grit his teeth.
"This again," he growled.
The figure didn't move. Only smiled.
"You killed your family. Or did you forget? The real you died in that car. This world is your punishment."
SLAM.
Visions burst open around him—memories.
A woman's soft voice.
Two laughing children.
The shattering of glass.
Screams.
And then—flames.
He fell to his knees.
Chest heaving.
Arms trembling.
The black space was now a mirror, surrounding him with the people he loved.
Their images flickered, standing silently.
Staring at him.
Judging.
"It's not real," he whispered.
"They're gone… I let them go."
The other him stepped forward, blade in hand. Vastbane, but darker—twisted by sorrow.
"Then why do you keep seeing them every time you close your eyes?"
He slashed.
The strike didn't land on Alter's body.
It tore into his memories.
A child's laugh was erased.
A touch forgotten.
A kiss stolen by oblivion.
Alter screamed—not from pain. From the loss.
"Stop… please…"
"You begged the gods for another chance. But deep down, you know this world is built on lies. You have power, you have followers—but you will never be whole."
The clone raised the blade again.
"So why keep fighting?"
Alter looked up.
Broken. Shaking. Eyes red.
And then—
A whisper in his mind.
Lira.
Kaela.
Selene.
Finn. Mira.
Mythral Dawn.
Their smiles.
Their loyalty.
Their love.
And in that moment, the despair—
Broke.
Alter stood.
"Because if I don't fight… then all of their sacrifices mean nothing."
He reached forward—
—and grasped the blade of the shadow's weapon with his bare hand.
Blood dripped from his palm.
But he held it tight.
"I'll carry the weight. All of it."
"The pain, the guilt, the love."
His other self stared wide-eyed.
"I will be the shield. I will be the sword. And when I fall…"
His eyes burned with cosmic fire.
"…I'll rise again."
With a roar, he pulled the blade in and punched through the clone's chest with his free hand.
CRACK—!!
The entire void shattered like glass.
He opened his eyes.
Alone again.
The glacier… gone.
The trial… passed.
But his breath was steady now.
His steps firm.
His soul… unbroken.
The shattering void dissolved into a spiral of drifting crystal fragments, twinkling in the nothingness like forgotten stars. For a moment, there was tranquility—no pressure, no weight, no torment. Only Alter, breathing in the dark.
Then—
A pulse.
It resonated within his chest.
Another.
Stronger.
Like a heart not his own had awakened.
From the remnants of his fractured mindscape, something stirred. A voice—not like Seraphina's, not divine, not foreign.
It was his.
"You have not yet reached the end."
And suddenly—
The next trial began.
The quiet collapsed.
Heat.
Cold.
Pressure.
Lightning.
All at once.
Alter was launched into the sky—or so it seemed—and then flung into a churning maelstrom of elemental chaos. His body slammed into water, only for it to freeze mid-impact. Fire surged through his limbs as the ice shattered. Then wind blades cut his flesh as stone spikes rose to impale him from below.
He screamed—but the sound was swallowed.
This was not a battle.
It was purification.
Every cell in his body was being unmade and remade by raw elemental fury.
His flesh peeled and regenerated.
His bones cracked and reknit.
His mana circuits shattered and reconstructed.
He could feel each agonizing second.
Then—
Above him appeared an ethereal figure.
A celestial being with no face, only swirling runes. It raised a hand, and a thousand spears of light rained down.
Alter's arms flung wide.
He let them hit him.
BOOM—!
The explosion tore through his spirit, threatening to collapse his consciousness again.
But in the chaos—a revelation.
The lightning no longer tore his mana. It surged with it.
The water cooled his blood.
The fire forged his bones.
The wind whispered paths of movement.
The earth carved stability into his stance.
He was no longer resisting the elements.
He was accepting them.
Adapting.
Evolving.
Alter rose slowly, surrounded by crackling arcs of energy and shifting elemental auras swirling around him like tame spirits.
His body was scorched. Bloodied. Ragged.
But in his eyes—was clarity.
And a faint smile.
"Come on… What's next?"
He looked upward.
High above, the final trial chamber loomed.
Its entrance: a gate of golden flame and spiraling stardust.
Inscribed upon it in divine script were four words:
"Face the Forgotten Truth."
Alter inhaled.
And took the first step toward it.
Just as Alter prepared to ascend the final stair—
Blackness.
It swallowed him.
Sound vanished.
Even pain.
Then—
Streaks of light.
Prismatic, streaking across a tunnel of infinite shadow.
Like someone had taken the code of reality and torn it into threads, each color humming with unknown frequencies.
Then came the sound.
BEEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP.
A machine alarm, high-pitched and urgent, slicing through the nothingness.
A faint white glow emerged. A blurred shape—no, a room.
"His vitals are unstable. Condition is critical."
A voice. Male. Tired. Medical.
Then—
"What do you mean we can't remove him yet?!"
A woman's voice. Agitated. Frantic. Familiar?
"His body's too weak. If we pull the neural dive now, he'll flatline."
Another woman. Firmer. Sharper.
But her voice trembled ever so slightly.
"What about the nanomachine injection?! That should rebuild him, right?"
"That hasn't even passed trials! We don't even know if—"
"I don't care!!" she shouted, sobbing through grit teeth.
Suddenly, another voice cut through it all.
Calm. Cold. Commanding.
"Inject the nanomachines. Reboot the stabilizer. Let him dive. His body will repair while inside. Monitor him—twenty-four-seven."
"Y-yes, ma'am."
Then—
A gentle hand.
Smooth. Warm.
Rested against his forehead.
Her voice cracked with tears.
"Please… come back to us. No matter how long it takes. Just rest for now, okay?"
His mind couldn't comprehend it.
He wanted to speak—but couldn't move.
Wanted to see—but the light dimmed.
Darkness again.
The streaks returned—like falling into a sea of dying stars.
And then—
PAIN.
Blinding. Unrelenting.
Lightning.
Fire.
Wind.
Stone.
They came back all at once.
Alter's back arched as the elemental crucible resumed.
His flesh charred, reformed. Muscles torn, regrown. Blood spilled, then boiled and flowed again.
But through it all…
That scene.
That room.
Those voices.
That hand.
That one whisper through the agony.
"We will get you back."
His scream pierced the air again—but this time…
Not of defeat.
It was defiance.
He didn't know what that vision meant—whether dream, glitch, memory, or something more.
But for the first time in ages, he remembered something real.
A tether.
A thread.
A promise.
"I won't fall here."
"Not while they're waiting."
The air shifted.
One moment, he was beneath thunderclouds and a glacier's weight—
The next—
Fire.
Lava.
A landscape of crumbling cliffs, rivers of molten rock, and skies veiled in black smoke. The heat clawed at his skin. The ground throbbed like a living heart, each pulse shaking the air like a war drum.
Alter stood on the edge of a jagged cliff.
Beneath him, a volcanic pit boiled like the breath of some ancient beast.
Then—
A tremor.
The stone at his back cracked.
He turned.
And his eyes widened in disbelief.
A demon.
Twenty meters tall.
A grotesque titan of obsidian flesh, horns coiled backward like charred crowns, and fire bleeding from its eyes. Its claws scraped the sky as it rose over the cliff's edge, standing upright like a god of ruin.
Its presence was suffocating.
Alter could barely breathe.
But then—
Another hand.
Massive. Feminine. Clawed.
Another demon—sleeker, but no less terrifying—emerged beside the first.
Her six wings of lava beat slowly, each flap igniting waves of flame across the sky.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
An entire legion.
Dozens of grand demons, all over ten meters tall. Their eyes glowed with infernal intelligence, their auras pressing against Alter like a wall of collapsing stars.
The cliff behind him sealed shut.
There would be no escape.
His legs felt heavy. His heart pounded like a drumbeat of dread.
But still—
He raised his hand.
Shhhhkkk.
A flash of divine light seared through the ash-choked sky.
Starsever—
Forged from astral threads and Creator's flame—appeared in his hand.
His other hand clenched as light coalesced into a familiar form.
Celestial armor took shape across his body, plating him in radiant white and deep gold, swirling with fading constellations.
His lips parted, breath ragged, voice hollow:
"So this is the next trial..."
The demons stepped forward in unison, their footsteps shaking the earth, their roars folding the sky.
"I have to fight… all of them."
The heat surged.
So did his resolve.
The battle began in fire.
The first demon lunged with a roar that cracked mountains—
Its fist descended like a meteor.
Alter moved.
[Dimensional Slash – Cross Rend]
A flicker of silver light split the sky.
The demon's arm cleaved in half, black blood hissing as it sprayed across molten stone.
But another charged him before the first could fall.
Too fast. Too strong.
Alter spun, switching stances mid-motion.
"Divine Heaven – Second Style."
Sky Piercer.
Lightning lanced from his blade, striking the demon's head—
But it didn't flinch.
A claw the size of a cart smashed down.
CRACK.
Alter was slammed into the earth, a crater forming where his body impacted.
Pain screamed through his ribs.
But he moved again—
He always moved again.
He gritted his teeth, blood running down the side of his face, eyes still glowing.
"Again."
[Demon God Killing Martial Arts – Fourth Strike: Shatter Pulse Palm]
He thrust his palm forward. A blast of internal force shattered the oncoming demon's chest.
But more came.
Five, six, ten at once.
A dance of death.
Starsever spun in his hand like a dying star.
Every breath hurt.
Every movement drew blood.
He alternated between forms:
Divine Heaven Sword Style for precision and divine cuts.
Demon God Killing Arts for disruption and bone-breaking force.
Days passed in fire.
Then weeks.
Then months.
Each breath became a war cry.
Each heartbeat, a countdown toward death or transcendence.
Now—
The landscape was scorched, cratered, and choked in ash.
The corpses of grand demons—massive, gnarled, burned—littered the battlefield like fallen mountains.
Alter stood among them.
Bloodied.
His celestial armor was fractured, shards hanging from his frame like broken feathers.
Yet he stood.
His blade was chipped. His body broken. But his eyes—
Still burned.
From the horizon, more shadows emerged.
Dozens more.
He didn't flinch.
He tightened his grip on the hilt of Starsever.
Then—he dashed forward, through blood and fire, toward the next wave.
The sky burned red. The ground bled fire.
The final Grand Demon—twice the size of the others, crowned in horns like obsidian towers—let out a deafening roar that shattered the distant cliffs.
Alter's feet dragged through ash and cracked stone. His breaths were shallow. His vision blurred.
He had nothing left.
But one strike remained.
"Eighteenth Strike..."
"…Demon God Killing Martial Arts—Final Form."
He planted one foot forward, and the earth quaked beneath him.
[Form XVIII – Heaven-Draining Annihilation]
His fist ignited.
The force of countless collapsed realms gathered into a single blow.
He launched upward—faster than light, faster than thought—
and struck the Grand Demon dead in the chest.
BOOM.
The world detonated in a blast of inverted color and soundless pressure.
The Grand Demon froze—
then split apart from the inside.
A crater of silence swallowed everything.
Its massive form collapsed, sending a rolling shockwave across the ruined wasteland.
Rubble flew. The air snapped.
Alter fell like a tattered feather in a dying storm.
His body hit the ground—limp, twitching.
Cracked. Bloodied. Barely breathing.
He could not lift a finger.
Everything… was gone.
Silence.
Then…
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
You have leveled up!
+1 Level Gained
His eyes barely fluttered open.
"...What?"
His voice was hoarse. His lips dry and bleeding.
"I… thought… the system was… locked…"
His consciousness faltered.
Then the world around him—
Warped.
The scorched hell faded into mist—
—replaced by a tranquil, sunlit meadow.
Endless green grass swayed in a warm breeze.
Wildflowers bloomed in radiant, soft colors.
Clouds floated lazily above.
Alter lay on a bed of flowers, unable to move a single muscle.
His body refused.
His breathing slowed.
He stared at the sky, the warm sun spilling down on him.
"Ah…"
"So this… is heaven."
"I finally… died…"
A quiet wind blew through the meadow.
His eyes closed.
The meadow swayed gently. The skies were clear, calm—too calm.
Alter lay motionless in the flower bed, chest barely rising, his mind numb. His thoughts drifted between peace and confusion.
And then…
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
You have leveled up!
You have leveled up!
You have leveled up!
You have leveled up!
The chime echoed again. And again.
You have leveled up!
You have leveled up!
Ten straight minutes.
Nonstop.
His fingers twitched. His eyes fluttered open again.
"It's still going…?"
Finally—
You have leveled up!
You are now Level 908.
—Level progression halted—
The notifications stopped.
And then came the avalanche.
A full cascade of data flooded his vision.
Voidstep Mirage – Allows instant evasion with up to three afterimages.
Heaven's Reprisal – Counterattack passive; reflects a portion of melee damage.
Soulshard Fortitude – Grants temporary immunity to fatal blows once every 12 hours.
Astral Sigil Forge – Allows inscription of astral runes for buffs or seals.
Starsever Ascension (Weapon Trait Upgrade) – All Divine Heaven techniques now apply celestial burn on contact.
Lines of golden script scrolled endlessly down his screen.
Alter's hand gripped the grass beside him.
"What… is happening?"
He forced himself up.
Sitting. Then kneeling. Then standing.
He stared at the dazzling, ethereal panel of golden light before him. His eyes traced every word.
Then—
a voice.
Smooth. Calm. Ancient.
"Congratulations, Alter."
"You have passed the Trial."
Alter's gaze snapped up.
"Who—?"
But no figure appeared.
Only wind. Sunlight. Peace.
He blinked.
His fingers clenched.
Suddenly—
He began to phase.
His form shimmered—fractals of light folding around him.
A pulse of energy coursed through his veins.
His wounds vanished.
His breath returned.
Strength flowed back into his limbs like a dam breaking free.
His body fully restored.
A flash of radiant light engulfed him—
—and when it faded, Alter stood tall, clad once more in his full celestial armor, every plate gleaming with divine polish.
In his right hand—
Starsever.
Reforged. Complete. The blade pulsed with cosmic rhythm.
"Was it… all an illusion?"
The voice returned—
not mocking, not warm, just truth.
"No."
"Everything you endured was real."
The meadow fell silent.
✦ Ascension Trial — Echoes Beyond the Trial
The winds of the flower field had stilled.
Alter stood in silence, his restored form outlined by the glimmering threads of starlight that floated through the air like fragile embers. But his brows were furrowed. His gaze wasn't on the horizon—but inward, fixed on a memory that refused to fade.
He spoke aloud.
"…If this trial was real… then what about that vision I had?"
His voice carried, flat yet trembled slightly. His words hung in the tranquil air like a dropped stone rippling across still waters.
"I saw… lights. Lines of color streaking past. Voices. A woman crying. Someone said my condition was critical. That if they removed something, I would die. Then—another woman. She said she'd do anything to bring me back. One of them touched my forehead."
He stared down at his palm, as if expecting to feel the warmth of that hand again.
"She said… 'We'll get you back. Please… just rest for now.'"
Silence.
Longer than before. The field seemed to dim—its peace tainted by an answer that would not come.
Finally, the voice returned.
"...There was no such sequence within the Trial of Ascension."
Alter's heart stilled.
No such sequence.
Then what was it?
A memory? A dream? Or something worse—something real?
He clenched his fists, jaw tight, as his thoughts churned with a disquiet far deeper than pain.
But he pushed it aside.
Regaining his composure, he asked the question that had been lingering like a storm on the edge of his mind.
"…What's next? Am I a god now?"
The system interface shimmered in response.
[Creator Authority: Still Sealed]
[Class: Primordial Architect – Status: LOCKED]
[Title: Godhood Pending – Insufficient System Override Rights]
Then came the voice again.
This time, quieter. Regretful.
"There is… unfortunate news."
"The seal upon your Creator Authority has overridden the Ascension Trial's final reward. It has blocked the unlocking of godhood."
"You are not a god, Alter. Not yet."
A sharp wind swept through the flower field, disturbing the petals as if even the realm mourned the truth.
Alter stood motionless.
No rage. No outburst.
Just silence.
His Creator Authority… was still locked.
✦ Ascension Trial – Chains Upon Divinity
The breeze grew colder.
The tranquil field of flowers—so calm just moments ago—now felt like a mockery. A stage for shackled gods. Alter stood in the middle of it all, no longer basking in triumph, but staring into the void above with eyes that narrowed to burning embers.
The voice resumed, quiet but deliberate.
"To claim godhood… you must shatter the seal yourself. This system cannot assist you. The only path forward… is through fulfilling the conditions of the Creator Seal."
Alter clenched his jaw, but his mind was already racing.
"You must reach maximum level. Only then… will the seal begin to crack."
And in that instant—
A memory surged forward.
Faint, buried beneath the years, now echoing as if spoken in the very present.
"To break the seal... reach the highest point of mortal strength. When your soul can no longer be contained by the world—only then will your authority return to you."
The voice of Seraphina.
Years ago.
Before she was silenced.
Before the void.
His entire body went still.
Realization hit like a thunderclap.
"…Level 999," Alter muttered.
And then—
His face twisted.
He looked up at the sky.
And roared.
"SOOOOOLIEEEEN!!!"
The heavens trembled with his fury.
Birds scattered across the illusory field. The flowers bent backward from the force of his voice. Somewhere, in some realm far beyond the veil, a radiant War God might have felt an inexplicable shiver crawl down his divine spine.
"YOU OVERSIZED WINGED PEACOCK! I KNEW THIS WAS YOUR FAULT!"
He wasn't done.
"YOU COULD'VE TOLD ME THE WHOLE DAMN REQUIREMENT INSTEAD OF SPEAKING IN RHYTHMIC, MYSTERIOUS NONSENSE LIKE A PHILOSOPHICAL TAVERN DRUNKARD!"
The voice of the system remained silent.
It knew better.
Alter ran both hands through his blood-matted white hair, his fury flickering into exasperated disbelief.
"…Level 999… You've got to be kidding me."
He stared up at the false sky again—eyes ablaze with equal parts rage and resolve.
"…Fine. If that's the only way… I'll burn my way there."
🌌 Divine Realm – The Sovereign's Sinus Catastrophe
(Cause: Absolutely Unknown)
The Grand Celestial War Hall echoed with the rumble of debate.
Twelve war gods—each a blazing pillar of power—stood around a floating divine table made of astral steel and molten stardust, projecting countless maps and frontline reports. Voices clashed like swords.
"The demon tide is spilling into the northern rift!"
"We should deploy the Sixth Seraph Host!"
"No, we summon the Titanbound from the Eternal Vault—"
Suddenly—
"AAAHHH—CHHOOOO!!!"
A concussive divine shockwave detonated from the head of the table.
Scrolls exploded midair. Battle reports turned to divine confetti. Maps of the lower realms were atomized into glitter. One lesser god was flung across the chamber and crash-landed into a stained-glass mural of himself.
Silence.
Every war god turned slowly toward the source. Their blazing eyes wide.
"…Did the Sovereign of Order just sneeze?"
Solien Astridane—the most majestic, radiant, gold-aura-blazing deity in the room—lowered his shimmering sleeve. His expression was a mix of confusion, fury, and horrified denial.
"…That wasn't a sneeze. That was… atmospheric correction."
"Your face convulsed," muttered one war god, still hovering upside down. "That was a sneeze."
"Sovereigns do not sneeze," growled Solien. "Our noses are transcendent."
Then—
"AAHHHH-CHHOOOO!!"
BOOM.
This time, the pillars trembled. Holy braziers went out. Lightning cracked the ceiling. A celestial warhorn blew itself off its mount.
Somewhere, a star imploded out of sheer embarrassment.
Attendants swarmed in. Winged scribes. Halo-bearing recorders. One cherub was duct-taping sacred scrolls back together.
And at the front, materializing in a calm shimmer of golden mist—
Seraphina.
Her heels clicked softly on the cracked marble floor. She looked left. She looked right. She looked at the war gods piled like a bad card trick.
And finally—at Solien. Who was glowing with static divine charge. And sniffling.
"…Sovereign," she said with serene finality, "you're sneezing."
"I am not! There must be an imbalance in the multiversal winds—perhaps a ripple from the astral ley-lines—or... or…"
"Achoo."
A gentle puff this time.
A divine scribe was still launched like a cannonball into a tapestry.
The war gods all started murmuring like paranoid scholars.
"Can gods get sick?"
"I thought we transcended mortal biology!"
"Does this mean death can catch a cold?!"
"IS THE VOID CONTAGIOUS?!"
Solien stood, arms crossed, lip trembling in divine indignation.
"I AM PERFECT. I DO NOT—"
"AHHH—CHHOOOOOO!!!"
The entire hall rotated 90 degrees.
Seraphina summoned a radiant barrier with a flick of her hand, pinning the remaining architecture in place. Her expression remained calm.
"…Well then," she said. "I suggest we all evacuate the War Hall. The Sovereign may be… experiencing spontaneous divine resonance discharge."
"You mean he's got a cold," whispered a war god.
"Say it again and I'll have you reassigned to mortals," Solien snapped, reaching for another blessed handkerchief.
🌌 Divine Realm – The Sovereign's Sinus Catastrophe, Part II
—Theories, Panic, and a Physician's Summons—
The War Hall had been evacuated—mostly. The ceiling was cracked. Gravity occasionally flipped. A divine pegasus was stuck in the chandelier, pretending to be part of the décor.
Inside the secondary chamber, the war gods gathered again. Their once-unshakable composure had devolved into frantic whispering and cosmically absurd hypotheses.
Solien sat on a levitating throne wrapped in seven glowing blankets and two floating halos of warmth. His nose—still golden and radiant—flickered ominously every few seconds.
"Achoo."
A teacup exploded.
🌀 Wild Theory Roundtable Begins
"I'm telling you," rumbled Arch-God Braxius, hammer slung over one shoulder, "it's a curse from the Ancient Sneeze Dragon. I read about it once in the Forbidden Cough Codex."
"That scroll was a parody!" shouted Valkoros, the spear deity. "We sealed it in the Vault of Satirical Scriptures for a reason!"
"No no no," murmured Yezuriel, god of space logistics, eyes darting like stars. "It's clearly divine spore-pollen from a Realm-Tree in seasonal bloom. They release allergy waves once every five millennia. Perfectly logical."
Another god gasped. "What if the sneeze is a prophecy? Like—a sneeze for every fallen plane!"
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. "So... you think the Sovereign is sneeze-counting calamities?"
"Exactly!"
Solien—wrapped in radiance and sniffles—just growled, "If one more of you suggests I'm sick, I will collapse your pantheon into a fruit bowl."
🌟 Seraphina's Solution
At last, Seraphina stepped forward, luminous and composed, speaking over the nonsense with the force of a calm typhoon.
"Enough."
The gods silenced.
She conjured a golden sigil in the air—its center pulsing with the symbol of a coiled serpent around a radiant staff.
"I am summoning Atheron, God of Medicine and Balance. He will determine the cause… logically. Without panic."
A hush fell. Even Solien blinked.
"…You're calling the healer?" he asked, suspicious. "Not the Exorcist? Or the Calamity Inspector?"
"Healer," Seraphina repeated.
Solien pouted like a deified child.
"Fine. But if he tries to give me mortal remedies, I swear I'll turn him into a prescription pad."
💠 Arrival of Atheron – God of Medicine
In a quiet shimmer of mint-green light and sterilized incense, a tall figure materialized. He wore flowing white robes with silver lining, a stethoscope made of starlight, and a book titled "So You've Sneezed in the Divine Realm."
Atheron adjusted his monocle.
"I heard someone forgot they're not immune to biology."
All eyes turned to Solien.
Solien straightened his back, adjusted his glowing shawl, and declared:
"I am a Sovereign! My body is made of cosmic order and radiant logic! I am NOT—"
"Achoo."
Atheron was already taking notes.
🌌 Divine Realm – The Sovereign's Sinus Catastrophe, Part III
—The Check-Up of Cosmic Concern—
Solien sat on a levitating obsidian slab, arms crossed, wearing a scowl that could vaporize planets. Around him, a swirling circle of radiant healers, attendants, and nervous war gods formed a wide perimeter—just in case another sneeze detonated the architecture.
Atheron, God of Medicine and Balance, floated gracefully into the center, holding a clipboard of glowing runes and a long staff crowned with a caduceus of breathing light.
"Let's begin the examination," Atheron said calmly, conjuring a Divine Thermometer—a crystal rod the size of a longsword that shimmered with shifting reality readings.
Solien eyed it. "That's not going near my mouth."
"It's spiritual," Atheron said, pressing it gently against Solien's forehead. "It scans your divine frequency and body-state."
The crystal hummed, pulsed gold—then stuttered.
It turned pink.
Then neon purple.
Then emitted a small party horn noise.
"…That's… new," Atheron muttered.
The surrounding gods started murmuring.
"He's glowing pink?"
"Is that bad?"
"Is it contagious??"
"Oh gods, are we glowing pink too?!"
"QUIET," snapped Seraphina, folding her arms.
Atheron summoned a starlight auscultation array—a ring of floating sigils spinning around Solien's chest.
"Deep breath, please."
Solien glared. "I breathe entire galaxies. You want shallow or thunderstorm mode?"
"Normal is fine."
The glyphs lit up, twinkling in harmonic patterns—until they hiccuped and projected a tiny sneeze emoji in golden light.
Atheron sighed, muttering, "Okay. That's definitely abnormal."
🩺 The Diagnosis
Finally, Atheron turned, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"…Well?" Seraphina asked.
The gods leaned in.
Atheron cleared his throat.
"Sovereign Solien is exhibiting signs of… Acute Celestial Irritation Syndrome."
A beat.
"…What?" Solien asked flatly.
"It's a very rare condition," Atheron continued. "Typically dormant. Often caused by overexposure to fluctuating divine energies, conflicting planes, or anomalous resonance loops. Sometimes triggered by poorly aligned shrine offerings or proximity to forbidden duck statues."
One god fainted.
Another shouted, "THE SHRINE FLOWERS WERE OFF AFTER ALL!"
Solien's jaw dropped. "Are you telling me… I'm allergic to divine power fluctuations?! I am divine power fluctuations!!"
"Ironic, yes," Atheron nodded. "But your body is currently misfiring its own aura. Your resonance rhythm is out of sync with your Creator Signature. Hence the sneezing."
A stunned silence followed.
Then—
"SO HE IS SICK!" yelled Braxius, pointing accusatorially.
"NO!" Solien barked. "It's not sickness, it's—it's divine dissonance!"
Seraphina blinked slowly. "With mucus."
"I AM STILL PERFECT!"
"Perfectly congested," muttered a war god in the back.
✨ The Treatment
Atheron conjured a small vial of glowing teal elixir.
"This should harmonize your resonance. Side effects include temporary humility and loss of floating voice echo."
Solien narrowed his eyes. "I like my echo."
Seraphina raised a brow. "Would you prefer another sneezequake?"
"…Give me the vial."
He chugged it.
A warm light pulsed from his chest. His glow dimmed slightly—less blinding, more stable. His nose stopped twitching.
The gods held their breath.
Solien inhaled deeply…
…paused…
…no sneeze.
Cheers erupted. Harps played. One war god popped a divine champagne bottle and got smited for violating silence protocols.
Solien sighed. "Tell no one about this."
Atheron was already handing Seraphina a clipboard. "Here's his prescription. Two elixirs a day and no realm destabilization for a week."
Solien grumbled. "I hate medicine."
Seraphina smiled serenely. "And yet, it works wonders."
✦ Celestial Field – The Fork Before Ascension
The radiant field was calm now.
Petals danced in the eternal wind. The light had softened, golden and warm. Alter stood at the foot of an endless staircase—its first steps carved from moonlight, the rest disappearing into the heavens beyond mortal comprehension.
He looked up toward it, but the steps did not respond.
The system's voice, that calm and unseen presence, echoed again—solemn and clear.
"You cannot ascend."
A pause.
"The path to the Divine Realm is sealed. Until your Creator Authority is unbound, the staircase will remain beyond reach."
Alter's fists clenched at his sides.
"...So even after all of this... it's not enough," he muttered bitterly. His eyes flickered, the reflection of stars and pain hidden in their depths.
But after a moment, he exhaled slowly. The anger didn't vanish—but it focused.
"…Then I'll earn it."
He raised his head.
"Please send me back."
There was a brief silence—then the voice replied, almost gently:
"Acknowledged. Preparing transference."
The air around Alter began to ripple like disturbed water. The petals scattered into the sky. The winds grew still. One final soft chime echoed from the divine staircase—as if to say: not yet, but one day.
Then—
flash.