The Breaking of Chains – Ascension of the Creator Architect
Within the quiet, rune-etched sanctum of the simulation core, Alter stood in the center of a formation of glowing crystalline plates—monitoring training parameters and harmonization fields for the Dragoons. Outside, the world remained quiet.
Until it wasn't.
A single, blaring system prompt appeared mid-air in front of his eyes.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
You have gained experience.
You have leveled up.
Alter blinked. "What?"
He hadn't moved. He wasn't in combat. He had been standing perfectly still for the last five minutes, doing calibration work.
Then—
You have leveled up.
A second.
His golden pupils sharpened. "No… No way…"
His mind spun. There was only one explanation.
"Takayoshi… or Soryn… maybe both?" he whispered.
They were fighting something massive. Something that was giving him enough experience to level again and again.
You have leveled up.
Level: 992 → 993 → 994 → 995…
The system prompts began flashing in rapid succession.
996.
997.
998.
Alter's breath caught.
"This… can't be… what are they fighting?" he murmured.
He reached inward—toward his spiritual link with them—but was met with static, distortion, voided silence.
"I can't reach them… I can't reach them?!"
Then—
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
You have leveled up.
Level: 999.
The world detonated.
A shockwave of divine energy erupted from Alter's body. The crystalline panels shattered around him like glass. The air twisted in waves of pressure. The entire Dragoon training valley quaked. Winds howled. Trees bowed. The ground fissured in radiant rings beneath his feet.
Alter screamed.
Not in pain—but in transcendence.
The runes seared into his very soul—the ancient Creator's Chains that had sealed his true power—began to uncoil from within. Threads of light, gold and abyssal, spiraled from his arms, chest, spine, and forehead—tearing through his divine bloodline seal.
KR-CHRRK.
One after another, the seals shattered.
He dropped to one knee, gasping for air. His chest heaved. His vision swam.
But then—it happened.
The world shifted around him. Not spatially—but cosmically.
From within, a new surge began to stir.
His divine draconic essence did not resist the change. It embraced it.
Golden light, once a flame, turned into a stellar galaxy.
His draconic crown flared into existence. His aura exploded like a solar supernova collapsing into a newborn star.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Creator Authority: Unsealed
Class: Creator Architect – The One Who Writes Existence
New Skills Unlocked: [Reality Edit], [Worldscripter], [Dominion Command], [Chrono Core Access], [Divine Pulse Rewrite]…
Alter's scream transformed into a draconic roar.
It echoed not just through the Dragoon valley—but across continents, skies, and realms.
Every dragon, every beast with blood tied to the old gods, looked skyward in shock.
The galaxy above him, once a serene swirl of deep azure, turned into an endless golden constellation—the stars forming into arcane rings of shifting symbols.
On Alter's body, his former blue tattoos reappeared—not as azure—but as prism-toned, shifting with color depending on angle and aura resonance. His golden skin shimmered with new layers of silver-blue crystal—divine alloy formed by the integration of both Prime Dragonic Sovereignty and Creator Authority.
He stood slowly.
The world bent slightly around him—time paused for a heartbeat to acknowledge the birth of a new sovereign class.
Alter exhaled.
"…They're in trouble," he said softly, his voice rippling with layered divine resonance.
With a single gesture, he activated his internal Dragoon summoning mark.
Across every simulation chamber, a blinding pulse triggered. The personal disciples—Rhed, Talia, Vellmar, Elira, Selin, Jaris—were forcibly pulled from their rooms and deposited before him, instinctively bracing for combat.
Their eyes widened the moment they saw him.
No words were spoken.
Because what stood before them was no longer just their master.
It was something far beyond what they knew—a divine architect in the flesh.
Rhed's jaw dropped.
Talia actually took a step back.
Selin—silent as always—fell to one knee.
Elira whispered, "He's… not mortal anymore…"
Alter's voice cut cleanly through the trembling air.
"Into the shadows."
They obeyed without hesitation.
With a sweep of his hand, each Dragoon was absorbed into his draconic shadow field—safely tucked in stasis, ready to be unleashed upon command.
He looked toward the eastern sky.
"Celestia…"
He raised his hand.
And vanished.
Only a golden streak of light remained in the air—a comet-shaped rift marking the trail of the one who would now rewrite the fate of the battle.
The Descent of the Creator Architect
The sky above Celestia had turned a bruised crimson. The sun itself dimmed beneath a veil of distortion. The air was thick with dread. Buildings quivered. Towers shook. Streets buckled from beneath. Screams rang out across the capital.
Cracks had appeared not just in the stone—but in reality itself.
Tremors surged through the land, waves of force rippling outward like the aftershocks of a divine calamity. Celestial wards flickered. Sealing circles malfunctioned. Not even the holy bell of the Grand Spire could remain upright—it toppled from its perch, crashing onto the temple roof with a metallic wail.
And then—
A thunderous snap tore through the sky.
A golden light streaked down from the clouds like a celestial blade. It cut across the horizon and halted midair, hovering over the heart of Celestia.
There, glowing brighter than the sun, stood a lone figure—his long crimson-and-silver hair dancing with the divine wind. His armor shimmered like molten crystal and starlight, laced in white and royal blue scaled plates that coiled like a dragon wrapped in human form. Behind him, golden rings etched with creation runes rotated slowly.
Alter had arrived.
He hovered in silence.
Then raised a single hand.
A pulse of power surged from his palm—silent, invisible, absolute.
In an instant, the entire continent stilled.
The quakes ceased. The rumbling air grew silent. Cracked stone repaired itself with divine threads of starlight. The distortion blanketing the heavens withdrew.
Even the red sky dimmed to a hushed amber.
Below, silence. Utter, awestruck silence.
Every pair of eyes looked skyward.
And what they saw brought countless to their knees.
A god hovered above them. Or something that made gods seem lesser.
Murmurs spread like wildfire, then turned to unified cries of devotion.
"It's a god… a god has descended…"
"He silenced the sky…"
"Look at his armor—it's a dragon! He's the god of dragons!"
"Praise the heavens—we are saved!"
Men and women dropped to the ground. Paladins of the temple fell to their knees. Priests wept openly, clutching their divine relics. Mages lost their chants as their staves began glowing in resonance.
A child whispered, "Mom… is that the god from the old stories?"
And above them all, Alter said nothing.
He stood in the air like a sovereign watching over his kingdom, golden draconic eyes sweeping over the continent's trembling cities. Then his gaze shifted—
—toward the east.
His pupils narrowed. He had sensed it.
A rift.
A force that did not belong to this world.
The battlefield.
Soryn. Takayoshi.
Without a word, Alter vanished in a blur of gold and silver light, leaving behind a deafening sonic boom that shattered clouds and swept through every cathedral bell like a divine gong.
The people watched the trail with breathless reverence.
The age of mortals had ended.
The age of the Creator Architect had begun.
The Grand Entrance – Alter's Return to the Battlefield
Moments before the skies split…
The battlefield at Wyrmgate Hollow was collapsing under the weight of despair.
Blood soaked the stone. Ash fell like gray snow. The expedition team was barely holding their ground.
Takayoshi fought with half a lung and a punctured chest. His breath came in ragged gasps, his limbs trembling as he lashed out with divine palm strikes—one after another. The Demon God Killing Martial Arts roared from his every blow, killing a dozen with each wave, but the enemy was endless.
His voice cracked through gritted teeth. "They just—keep—coming—!"
Beside him, Soryn surged forward with a brutal roar, only to stagger as his right arm was severed by a demon's axe. Blood sprayed like a crimson arc across the shattered ground. His divine forging hand—gone.
But he didn't stop.
Even with one arm, he fought to reach the others.
Salvatore laughed from his throne of rising bone and flame, towering over the battlefield. "Struggle, insects. Entertain me with your dying gasps."
With a single gesture, he raised his massive voidforged greatsword, its blade covered in cursed runes that shimmered with Creator Authority. Takayoshi dashed toward him in a final act of defiance—
—only to be swarmed.
Demons leapt onto him from all sides. Claws sank into his flesh. He was pulled down before he could even raise his blade. He tried to scream, but only blood came out.
"TAKAYOSHI!!" Soryn shouted and leapt with all his remaining strength—
—Too late.
Salvatore opened his monstrous jaws.
A beam of voidlight charged in his maw. The sky twisted as the beam roared out like the end of creation.
It struck.
Takayoshi vanished—along with a legion of demons—vaporized into blinding nothingness.
A crater opened where he stood, cracked earth screaming in silence.
Soryn hit the ground, the force of the blast slamming him back. Before he could recover, Salvatore flashed forward, too fast for a being that massive.
A blade of void-cleaving steel sank into Soryn's chest.
He gasped.
He spun into the air. Thrown back towards the expedition group.
Blood poured from the massive gash across his torso. And then—
He fell.
Alyxthia screamed, rushing past the others who shouted for her to stop. But they were too late.
She dropped to her knees as Soryn's broken body slid to a halt before her.
"S-Soryn!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his limp frame. "No—don't you dare—!"
Soryn coughed as blood laced his lips. He smiled at her.
His remaining hand lifted. He touched her cheek with trembling fingers. "It'll be… fi—"
His eyes widened suddenly and his hand fell.
His body crumbled into motes of golden light, dissolving in her arms like warm snow.
The Alyxthia's scream shattered the silence.
Tears fell freely. She collapsed over where he once lay, sobbing, face pressed into the soil still warm from his fading soul.
Then—
BOOM.
The ground shook again. But this time—not from Soryn.
From Salvatore.
The Demon God loomed over Alyxthia. He raised the greatsword high, lips pulled into a sneer. "Puny ants. Enough of this drama."
He swung his greatsword at Alyxthia.
A blade meant to end all.
And then—
CLANG.
The sound of gods colliding echoed far into the distance.
A blade caught the voidgreatsword mid-swing.
The force rippled across the plains, kicking up a storm of ash and divine particles. The sky cracked from the clash. The earth fractured beneath them.
Salvatore's blade didn't move an inch further.
Because a figure now stood between him and Alyxthia.
Tall. Radiant. Clad in white and silver draconic armor that glowed with divine runes. A dragon's crest crowned his helmet. His long crimson mantle fluttered behind his back like a banner of war.
His blade—Starsever—rested casually between his right shoulder and neck, catching the full weight of Salvatore's swing with just a loose grip.
The edge of Starsever sparked and hissed, but held.
Salvatore's eyes widened.
The figure spoke, calm and firm. "Are you alright?"
The Alyxthia looked up—eyes wide, mouth open, voice stolen. She could only stare.
Not just her.
Every soul on the battlefield froze. Time seemed to stop.
The massive void greatsword trembled—against one hand.
Salvatore growled, forcing more weight into the swing.
Nothing.
The figure gripped Starsever tighter.
The void greatsword shifted.
It lifted.
Then—flipped aside with a single, effortless redirect.
And in the same motion, the figure turned his wrist, reversed the momentum—
SLASH.
Starsever cleaved upward across Salvatore's weapon, transferring all the torque into a divine backlash that blasted the demon god hundreds of meters away. His body skidded and shattered trees before slamming into a cliff face.
Silence gripped the battlefield.
On the distant ridge, the 14 Commanders stood motionless—frozen in collective disbelief. Finn narrowed his eyes, lips parting ever so slightly as he exhaled. Mira, beside him, clutched her staff with both hands, her breath caught in her throat. Selene's gaze never left the figure, but her hands had unconsciously curled into fists at her sides, knuckles pale beneath her gloves.
Darius shifted his weight with slow reverence, lowering his shield without a word. Revyn watched through narrowed eyes, calculating, as if trying to understand how such force could be compressed into a single blow. Even Thorne, known for his bombastic demeanor, stood in rigid silence, his usual bravado hollowed out by sheer awe.
Alyxthia stared into the projection crystal, lips slightly parted, her chest rising with shallow breaths. There was no trace of jest or youthful excitement in her gaze—only quiet reverence, as if she were witnessing a moment pulled from a forgotten prophecy.
The foreign envoys—ambassadors from the north and east—stood behind the royal platform. One slowly dipped his quill, forgetting to write. Another muttered something in his native tongue—a phrase denoting a god descending among mortals.
None of them spoke.
None dared break the stillness that followed.
All eyes were locked on the one who stood at the center of the shattered battlefield. Flames curled at his feet. Golden wind rippled behind his silhouette. The Prime Dragonic Sovereign had returned.
And the world would never look at the battlefield the same again.
Dust swirled around Alyxthia.
Then the figure—still resting his sword lazily on his shoulder—turned back to her.
"You didn't answer," he said softly. "Are you hurt?"
And from the high ridge where the Commanders stood, Selene inhaled sharply.
The sound of his voice.
The weight of that sword.
She knew that stance. That presence. That rhythm.
Her hand rose to her lips without thinking. Her heart trembled against her chest.
"…Starsever," she whispered.
It wasn't the armor—his had changed. More radiant. More divine. But the sword… that sword never left him. And the way he spoke, the way he turned his back to danger just to ask again if someone else was safe—
It had to be him.
"Wh…who… are you?" Alyxthia whispered.
But her question went unanswered.
Because across the battlefield—
Salvatore's scream tore through the clouds.
"ALTER!!!"
The very name cracked the sky.
Alter half-turned to look back over his shoulder, clicking his tongue in irritation. He raised his left hand, casually pointing a single finger at the demon god.
His voice was cold. Annoyed.
"Shut up, Salvatore."
Power coiled at his fingertip like a compressed star.
"You damn cursed demon god," he muttered. "Do you have nothing better to do than ruin my grand entrance?"
Creator vs Cursed Demon God – The Beginning of Judgment
The battlefield remained suspended in silence for a beat after Salvatore's scream echoed through the air, his guttural cry of "ALTER!!!" still ringing like a curse carved into reality.
But that silence shattered.
"Master!" Mira's voice burst out, trembling with both awe and tears, her hands clenched to her chest.
Selene stood motionless, her lips parted, her voice catching in her throat. Her entire body trembled—eyes wide, then moist, then gleaming with warmth.
"...Alter…" she whispered.
A tear escaped, trailing down her cheek—not of sorrow, but of sheer relief. Her knees nearly buckled.
Around them, the entire expedition team stared in stunned disbelief.
Even the ever-composed Caelum let out a breathless, "He's here…"
But one man didn't share the awe.
Lucian, the so-called Hero of Light, narrowed his eyes. His jaw clenched. And with a low grunt of simmering discontent, he spat, "Alter…"
His tone dripped not with reverence—but resentment.
Across the ravaged field, Salvatore erupted with wrath. His eyes bulged with bloodshot fury, veins surging along his twisted neck.
"You damn insect!" he roared. "The curse I placed upon you, the day I shattered your soul—it should have ended you!"
Alter slowly turned his body to face him fully, lowering his hand. His grip tightened around Starsever.
With a flick, he slashed the blade to his right side. The wind howled in response.
"Your mouth," Alter said, voice like thunder over a still lake, "still stinks to the high heavens."
He leveled the blade forward—pointing it directly at Salvatore.
"Come."
His next words burned like celestial fire:
"Last time we clashed, I was still a fledgling. And even then, I was able to seal you."
He took a slow, confident step forward, his gaze never leaving the demon god.
"But now…" he said, his voice deepening, surging with Creator Authority, "I will destroy your core and wipe that grotesque face out of existence."
Salvatore howled in rage, and at his command, the entire army of demons surged forward.
Alter didn't move.
Instead, his left hand lowered again.
"Dragoons."
Six golden figures exploded from his shadow in formation—each clad in silver-blue sovereign armor, matching Alter's own. Their helmets gleamed. Their presence surged with sovereign authority.
"Bring her to safety," Alter commanded without turning. "And guard the others."
"As you command, Master!" they answered in perfect sync, then vanished.
A blink later—
Alyxthia was lifted gently into the air. She didn't even feel the wind shift. The world around her blurred, and then—she was on solid ground again.
Before she could even blink, the six Dragoons stood in a defensive semicircle, protecting her and the expedition team from the advancing horde. Their coordinated speed, grace, and pressure stunned everyone.
Alyxthia blinked, dazed. "What… what just…?"
She hadn't even registered movement. Just warmth—then safety.
One of the Dragoons gave a simple nod. "Remain calm. You are under His protection."
Meanwhile, across the field—
Alter's gaze swept across the dozens of rift gates, each spewing demons in waves.
"Let's deal with those annoying tears first," he muttered.
He raised his left hand and clawed the air. Dimensional energy spiraled at his fingertips. Then—he punched forward and closed his fist.
The world trembled.
The rifts didn't just collapse—they shattered like glass, leaving behind trails of fractured sky. Reality itself had been sealed.
Salvatore's eyes widened. "What!? You have—Creator Authority!?"
Alter didn't respond with words.
He raised Starsever.
Then, with a sweeping horizontal motion, he executed Divine Heavenly Sword Style: Helix Sever.
A wide golden energy spiral burst from his blade, shearing across the land. The wave of divine force struck the oncoming army.
Demons screamed—then evaporated.
The wave surged toward Salvatore himself. He gritted his jagged teeth and raised his greatsword vertically to block it.
The clash was instant. Sparks, shockwaves, and mana detonations filled the battlefield.
Salvatore strained.
"Ngghhh…!"
But it was too much.
His body was thrown back, sliding hundreds of meters. Craters formed beneath his heels until he crashed into his own crumbling altar.
Behind him—the rest of the demon army was wiped clean.
He rose, howling in disbelief.
"THIS CANNOT BE!!"
Alter snickered, resting Starsever on his shoulder again like it was no more than a wooden cane.
"Why not?" he said. "You're a stinking demon god with a measly 38% Creator Authority."
He cracked his neck.
"I'm at 42%. What's wrong with me kicking your crusty ass back to the void?"
Salvatore snarled, face contorted. "No… that's impossible!"
Alter cocked his head with mock pity. "Oh, Salvatore… I can't tell if you're angrier about the numbers, or just jealous of the armor."
Salvatore's wings spread wide, his voice a guttural snarl that warped the very space around him. His massive form lunged forward, cleaving the sky with a dark blade wreathed in abyssal fire.
But Alter was already gone.
A streak of gold—no, lightning—threaded through the assault. Alter weaved between Salvatore's strikes like a phantom, his form flickering with divine acceleration. Each step he took was deliberate. Each motion—a blur of precision.
He danced.
Salvatore's claws slashed where he had been. His black wing swept to crush him mid-spin. His tail lashed to impale him from behind.
But Alter flowed through every motion with maddening grace, pivoting inches beyond each strike. His feet whispered across the air. His mantle shimmered with radiant edges. And all the while—his hands moved.
A palm across the elbow—Wind Marker.
A subtle kick against the shin—Lightning Marker.
A shoulder brush past the neck—Fire Marker.
In the span of seconds, he had tapped Salvatore's entire body with elemental runes, each one invisible to the untrained eye. But they burned quietly in another spectrum—waiting. Building.
Salvatore's patience snapped. "STOP MOVING!" he bellowed, summoning a crushing wave of corrupted void to consume the air around them. But Alter had already disengaged, flipping backward into open sky, hand outstretched.
"—Enough dancing," he murmured.
A snap of his fingers.
The runic sigils ignited all at once.
A thunderous detonation erupted from Salvatore's body—winds screaming, fire cascading from his shoulders, lightning erupting from his gut. The sky lit with a kaleidoscope of elemental wrath as the cursed god roared in pain, his body flung back in spiraling agony. Segments of his armor cracked, his black wings torn apart by the combustion. One of his majestic horns shattered with a jagged burst of shrapnel.
Dust and fire engulfed the sky.
Silence, for a moment.
Then—a shape moved.
From within the swirling ash, Salvatore emerged, staggering forward. His wings were scorched and uneven. One of his horns hung half-snapped. Smoke bled from his ribcage. But his eyes burned hotter than ever.
Alter stood across from him, golden sparks still crackling at his fingertips. And then—he laughed.
A cold, amused, biting laugh.
"Well," Alter called out, voice echoing across the ruined clouds, "You used to be prettier."
Salvatore's eye twitched.
"Careful," Alter added, twirling Starsever behind his back once. "You've only got one horn left."
The air cracked.
Salvatore's eye—still glowing with abyssal fire—twitched once, then locked onto Alter with a fury that could fracture mountains.
"You dare…" His voice came low. Broken. Unstable. "You dare mock me… with that filthy tone—after what you did to my wings?!"
His hands clenched. The corrupted divine metal along his arms began to warp, ripple—melt. The very essence of his body distorted as raw cursed energy surged outward like a pulse of hatred given form.
"Alter…" he growled, stepping forward, his voice no longer echoing—it was howling, like the abyss had torn open inside his throat. "I will unmake you."
Alter's smirk deepened, arms folding lazily across his chest. "Then stop limping and come try."
Something snapped.
The skies dimmed—not from clouds, but from light being devoured. The battlefield shifted violently as gravity twisted around Salvatore's form. Cracks opened in the air behind him, black veins spreading like spiderwebs of ruin.
And then—he roared.
The kind of roar that didn't just shake the heavens—it shattered balance itself.
Dark flame exploded from his body. His broken wing regrew, but no longer with feathers or structure—now it was a gnarled, jagged construct of blackened bone and cursed lightning. His shattered horn elongated grotesquely, splitting into three branching points, each one dripping with abyssal blood. His size doubled—then tripled, until he stood like a titan cloaked in ruin, with six skeletal limbs erupting from his back like spider legs.
A new voice emerged from his mouth—not entirely his own. A chorus of the damned, ancient, wrathful, chanting behind every word:
"RAGE STATE: ABYSSAL BLOODFIRE ASCENSION."
The wind died.
The divine realm above recoiled.
Even distant gods flinched.
Salvatore lifted his now-blackened greatsword, its edge twisted like a jagged fissure in the cosmos. With a single motion, he dragged it across the sky, splitting the clouds open into a bleeding wound of darkness.
Alter's smile faded slightly, his golden eyes narrowing.
"...Ah," he muttered.
"So you finally remembered who you are."
Salvatore didn't answer. He didn't need to.
He lunged—faster than before, harder than before—with a speed that warped space behind him. The rage had made him monstrous.
But it had also made him unfocused.
Salvatore lunged, his newly enlarged frame hurtling forward like a meteor birthed from fury. Each step ruptured the sky beneath his feet, each motion tearing through air like the crack of worlds splitting open.
But he missed.
By leagues.
Alter had already vanished.
Whshht!
A golden streak flickered to his left—then right—then behind him. Salvatore twisted, black blade cleaving through a shockwave of wind—but nothing met its edge.
Then came the pain.
A lightning slash carved across his right shoulder, then another—directly behind his left knee.
"Too slow," Alter's voice whispered by his ear.
Salvatore roared, spinning midair with his monstrous arms lashing out like jagged scythes.
Nothing.
A blade kissed his jaw from beneath—clean, sharp, graceful.
He turned. Nothing there.
Then—three more slashes across his ribs in rapid succession. Sparks of light. Dimensional lines. Footsteps echoing in a spiral around his towering form.
Salvatore shrieked in frustration, slamming a cursed fist into the earth—only for it to strike a crater left behind seconds earlier.
"Come down and fight me like a god!" he bellowed.
A gust of wind behind his horned crown.
Then—a boot landed on his skull.
"Correction," Alter said calmly, crouching atop Salvatore's massive head as though perching on a hill, sword resting across his shoulder, voice utterly unhurried.
"Come down and fall like a boulder."
Salvatore's entire body convulsed. He swung wildly—but Alter had already disappeared again, a golden blur descending from above, cutting dozens of intersecting lines across Salvatore's back with ruthless elegance.
"You know, I probably would like you better when you were human-sized," Alter called out. "You can hit harder."
Salvatore roared, flames erupting from his mouth in a cone of cursed fire.
Alter dropped to the ground behind him, untouched. "...And now you've got aim like a blind wyvern."
Whshhft!
Another cut. This time to the left thigh—severing a tendon of black muscle.
Salvatore buckled.
"Oops," Alter said, voice mockingly sincere. "Did I do that? My bad."
Whhssht!
More slashes, too quick to count. Precision lines scoring across cursed plating, exploiting gaps left wide by Salvatore's bloated rage-fueled form. His newfound bulk had made him powerful, yes—but lumbering. And Alter was no longer bound by mortal limits.
"Honestly…" Alter said, now hovering just above Salvatore's chest, flicking blood from Starsever with a casual spin, "...you ever heard the phrase—"
He blurred behind the cursed god's back again, sword already arcing.
"—The bigger they are—"
A devastating thrust drove straight into the exposed joint between wing and spine. Salvatore howled, wings spasming in ruin.
Alter appeared again—on the opposite side.
"—The harder they fall."
With a brutal kick to Salvatore's lower back, he forced the giant forward—and the massive form collapsed to one knee, the ground quaking beneath the blow.
Alter stood alone before him, surrounded by swirling sparks and drifting dust, sword lowered, eyes unblinking.
"Now get up," he said coolly. "We're just getting started."
The ground was cracked and scorched, bearing the weight of Salvatore's collapse. The once-towering cursed god now knelt, smoke curling from his wounds, blood dripping from the fractures in his armor. One of his wings had fully disintegrated. The triple-jagged horn was cleaved at the middle. His breaths came ragged, low and heavy—less from exhaustion, more from what churned inside him.
Alter remained still, golden light flickering across his shoulders. He made no move to follow up.
He didn't need to.
Everyone watching—from the distant ledges, the high scrying platforms, the ridges where the 14 Commanders and envoys stood—held their breath.
All except Lucian.
His eyes narrowed with knowing interest, arms folded. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to hear a whisper only he could detect.
And then—he smiled.
Just barely.
Selene sensed it first.
She stepped forward with a subtle intake of breath. "Something's wrong…"
Rhed muttered, "Why's he still… kneeling like that?"
Even Mira reached for Finn's arm. "His aura—it's… changing."
Alter's gaze didn't flicker. He remained facing Salvatore, but even he hadn't moved since the blow.
Below, Salvatore exhaled long and low. And when he finally stirred, it was not with rage.
But with silence.
The air dimmed—not darker, but hollowed. Like the battlefield itself was retreating from him. A slow, unnerving pulse began to emanate from his chest—steady, deliberate, like a war drum heard beneath water.
Then came the glow.
A yellow-green light began to rise, like sickly divinity coiling upward from his skin. It wrapped around his broken body, not healing—but sealing. Spiraling upward in threads of muted luminance, the aura wove into a strange cocoon around him. It shimmered, not with power, but with intention.
His eyes no longer glowed with fury. They glowed with something deeper.
Something ancient.
Then—his body began to shrink.
His monstrous limbs pulled inward.
His wings folded into the light.
His form—bit by bit—receded into the cocoon of radiance, tightening, condensing, reshaping.
And Alter still did not move.
He simply watched.
The demon god shook with fury—then suddenly fell silent.
A new aura surged from his body.
Yellow-green light enveloped him, wrapping his monstrous frame like a cocoon.
Then—his body began to shrink.
His form compressed, muscles reformed, bones snapped into sleeker alignment.
When the light faded, a humanoid demon stood in his place—two draconic wings unfurled behind him, his long silver-black hair whipping wildly in the winds. His eyes were glowing emerald, and his blade still hummed with void energy.
This was his true combat form.
Salvatore said nothing.
He simply pointed his blade forward, eyes never leaving Alter.
He knew now—reality-warping would be undone by Alter instantly. Only combat remained.
Alter grinned.
"Oh, you can do that, huh?"
He spun Starsever once in his grip and set his feet in a loose stance.
"Doesn't matter."
His gaze sharpened.
"I'm going to beat you into the void and back."
Both warriors faced off—divine and demonic energy surging through the field.
And for the first time—
Alter stood ready to fight as a God.
Celestial Apex – The Stomp That Shook the World
The wind split as they moved—two streaks of divine and demonic force colliding mid-air like clashing stars.
CLANG!!
The sky exploded.
Starsever and the Voidblade of Salvatore met with bone-rattling resonance, the pressure alone causing the clouds to part and the heavens above to ripple. For a breathless second, they strained—locked in a deadlock.
Then—they vanished.
Only streaks of afterimages traced across the horizon as their battle carried them across the sky, each exchange detonating in a burst of power.
BOOM! CLANG!
Shockwaves rumbled across the shattered field. The sky cracked. Boulders the size of houses were launched into the air—some straight toward the expedition.
But the Dragoons moved like lightning.
Their sovereign armor shimmered, matching Alter's to the finest detail—only their sizes separated them from the one who had trained them.
With blinding speed and ruthless precision, they intercepted and sliced through every incoming boulder, defending the team as the earth trembled beneath them.
Selene gasped, watching the six.
"They're just like him…"
Mira nodded, eyes wide. "Exact copies…"
"Disciples," whispered Mira, in awe. "Perfected."
Above them, the true battle unfolded in brutal splendor.
CLANG! BOOM!—a punch to the jaw.
CLANG! BOOM!—a kick to the thigh.
CLANG! BOOM!—a palm to the throat.
Sword met sword—but Alter was no longer using just a blade.
He was merging the Demon God Killing Martial Arts into every strike.
Each clash of steel was followed by a devastating martial blow—an elbow strike, a shin hook, a rising knee that cracked ribs, then back to blade.
A dual path—sword and fist—becoming one.
Salvatore grunted, blood trailing from his lips. His armored skin cracked and bruised with each blow. He parried, slashed, retaliated—but Alter slipped through his rhythm like water dancing through fire.
Salvatore knelt—broken, smoldering, his monstrous form battered by precision strikes and relentless mockery. His breath came heavy, but the fire behind his eyes was not extinguished. It shifted—from rage… to calculation.
Then, his gaze tilted upward.
To the cliffs beyond.
To the gathering of them.
The 14 Commanders.
The Dragoons.
The Princess.
The foreign envoys.
All watching. All vulnerable.
A twisted grin spread across his cracked face.
So that was the edge Alter had gained—people worth shielding.
Without warning, Salvatore's head snapped back. A deep hum resonated through the battlefield, low and dreadful. His throat swelled with coalescing cursed energy, forming a pulsating vortex of green fire and abyssal pressure between his fangs.
"No—" Selene breathed from the ridge. "He's targeting us—!"
The cursed god's mouth split wide, and from it erupted a titanic beam of concentrated destruction—twisting green and yellow plasma mixed with black void threadlines. It carved across the battlefield in a deafening roar, aimed straight at the high ridge where the observers stood.
The world trembled.
Mira braced herself with a flickering barrier of wind. Finn stepped in front of her, blades drawn. Darius shoved one of the envoys behind a rock formation. Several screamed. Others ran.
But the Dragoons—
They moved as one.
Selin Varrow knelt with her blade set to absorb shock. Rhed threw his arms wide, roaring at the incoming beam. Vellmar anchored himself in front, arms like bulwarks. Elira vanished into the shadows behind their formation. Talia hovered above the line, wings extended, teeth clenched.
Even in the face of certain death—they stood.
But the beam drew closer.
Closer.
Seconds from annihilation.
Then—
A golden flash.
A wind that moved faster than sound.
And Alter stood before them.
Not charging.
Not roaring.
Just standing—between the group and destruction.
One hand lifted lazily.
Starsever in his grip.
His voice came low—soft, almost bored.
"Dimensional Slash—Omni Wave."
He swung.
A single vertical cut.
A pulse of light surged outward, silent but absolute. The cursed beam froze midair—then split down the center, severed perfectly in two. The twin halves veered away into the mountains, detonating in massive green fireballs miles away from the ridge.
But the slash didn't stop.
The golden wave from Starsever continued forward—unstoppable.
Salvatore, still recovering from his shot, had no time to react. His eyes widened in alarm—
Then agony.
SHRRK!
The dimensional wave cut straight through his left arm at the shoulder. Time bent at the impact, sound sucked inward as if the world gasped.
His arm fell away like a severed branch.
Green blood sprayed into the sky in a grotesque arc. The cursed god howled—stumbling backward, hand clenching the ragged stump. His wings faltered. His gaze burned with disbelief.
Alter exhaled, lowering his sword.
"Try that again," he said coldly, "and next time I cut off your head."
Salvatore bared his teeth in fury—but staggered back, body shaking.
Then—Alter's stance changed.
He lowered his center of gravity, drawing a tight circle with Starsever before thrusting it forward at a strange angle.
"Divine Heavenly Sword Style – Fourth Form: Graviton Cleave."
Salvatore's sword was redirected off its axis, his posture thrown off. He tried to recover—but Alter was already inside his guard.
A celestial punch slammed into his chest.
BOOOOM!!
Salvatore wheezed—air and blood erupting from his mouth.
Then, before he could stabilize, Alter roared and tore through his defenses.
Alter threw Starsever up. Starsever spun upward, leaving his hand, twirling into the sky as if ascending to the heavens.
Then—the storm began.
"Demon God Killing Martial Arts – Eighteen Heavenly Slaughter Strikes!"
Time slowed.
The air warped.
Alter moved in blinding arcs, executing each of the 18 god-slaying techniques in perfect succession.
Fist of Ruin—Salvatore's jaw cracked.
Heaven-Piercer Step—his ribs shattered.
Void Fang Rend—spatial slashes tore his essence.
Bloodlash Howl—shockwaves ejected blood through his armor.
Soulbreaker Dive—struck the core of his soul.
Graviton Sever, Hellpulse Eruption, Demon's Jaw Crush—
Each technique ripped through layers of Salvatore's defenses. His body twisted. His wings tore. His sword dropped. He couldn't react—only endure.
The final trio:
Abysswalker's Brand—a cursed seal that dimmed his healing.
Sovereign Fang Collapse—a meteor-strike leap that cratered the field.
And the last—🜏 Creator's Banishment—which shattered the fabric around Salvatore, silencing his voice and erasing his divine aura momentarily.
The world flickered.
Salvatore's broken form crashed into the earth, creating a chasm beneath him. Debris and light exploded upward in a geyser of ruin.
He groaned—barely conscious, but still breathing.
Alter reappeared high above.
He caught Starsever mid-fall, the blade singing as it returned to its master.
And then—
He descended.
His left foot landed on Salvatore's bloodied chest. His right leg lifted—mana, Creator Authority, and elemental dragon energy converging like a supernova into his heel.
The air crackled.
The world tensed.
Then—
"Elephant God Stomp."
The impact shattered the land.
A colossal shockwave erupted outward, flattening mountains in the distance. The sky rippled. The ground cracked in veins stretching miles. It felt as if the world itself had quaked.
A silence followed.
Only wind howled softly, carrying dust and light across the battlefield.
From the dust—Alter stood alone, his mantle fluttering, Starsever resting on his shoulder.
His golden and silver-blue armor shimmered with celestial heat, and his aura—a blend of Prime Dragonic Sovereign and Creator Architect—radiated like a newly risen star.
He stared forward, watching the smoldering crater.
Waiting for the aftermath to settle.
Waiting to see if Salvatore still moved.
Starsever's Judgment – End of a Cursed God
The silence that followed was not peace.
It was the hush before a final breath.
As the choking dust began to settle over the battlefield, the massive crater smoldered at its center—broken earth curling upward in molten veins.
And then…
A figure moved.
Salvatore.
He rose slowly—if such a thing could be called rising. His once-majestic form was unrecognizable, reduced to a dirt-caked, blood-drenched husk. Chunks of his armor were missing, his right chest has a gaping open with a hollow void where organs and divinity once resided. Each movement made him stumble. Blood poured freely down his chin.
Still, his eyes glinted with hateful pride as he looked up.
Alter stood unmoving above the rim of the crater, wind sweeping around his silver-blue dragonic armor.
He raised an eyebrow, faintly impressed.
"So you actually survived that?" he said dryly.
Salvatore gritted his teeth. With trembling fingers, he raised his hand—summoning the threads of his Creator Authority, drawing them toward his broken body to begin repair.
But Alter's golden eyes shimmered.
"No," he whispered. His voice was calm—but reality itself obeyed him.
A wave of distortion shattered the healing spell mid-formation, ripping through the air with an echoing crack.
The world trembled as if scorning Salvatore's defiance.
His body seized. Blood gushed anew. He coughed hard, the sound wet and ragged.
Alter's voice carried across the wind, mocking.
"Still clinging to your pathetic existence? You're nothing now. A footnote. Why don't you crawl back into the Void where you belong? Retire. Die. Fade."
Salvatore's coughs deepened, each breath a struggle. Yet he didn't speak—only stared in disbelief.
Alter's tone darkened.
"Let's end this."
He brought Starsever up—vertical, its flat side flush with his chest. His fingers curled tightly around the hilt. His eyes closed—a moment of silence. Of focus.
Then—
They opened, blazing golden.
"Life Sprinkler."
Three identical clones emerged instantly in the cardinal directions around him.
And then—they all vanished.
In a blink, they reappeared—surrounding Salvatore from multiple vectors, floating in the sky like judgment made flesh.
Salvatore's bloodied eyes widened.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't even scream.
In that instant, the four Alters—the original and three golden afterimages—began to move in harmony. Blades slashed from every direction with inhuman precision and speed.
"Starfall Sword Style."
The sky detonated.
Golden streaks of light flickered and flurried, striking in waves like a celestial storm. Each cut sent divine sparks flying. The air warped with heat and energy.
Eight seconds.
Just as the clones reached their limit, each of them split again, multiplying into three more.
Twelve now.
Twelve golden warriors, in synchronized fury, launched into another coordinated Starfall. Their blades danced like falling stars, crashing down in brilliant arcs of light.
Salvatore screamed—a broken, hollow, inhuman sound. His body was torn, again and again, as the bombardment continued.
He couldn't escape.
He couldn't react.
Then—Alter moved.
From a distant point on the battlefield, he entered a stance. Low. Grounded. A single step forward.
"Divine Heavenly Sword Style…"
Lightning began to swirl around Starsever's edge.
"…First Form…"
The blade crackled violently, white-gold bolts dancing along its edge. Wind churned, twisting the atmosphere around him.
"…Sky Piercer."
At the same moment, the twelve clones prepared their final barrage—each one about to split again.
And they did.
Thirty-six golden figures now encircled Salvatore, a ring of celestial retribution. They all slashed in unison—Starfall exploding like a divine blizzard.
Salvatore's roars of agony filled the sky.
And then—
Alter moved.
He vanished from his position with a thunderous boom. A sonic spear of light shot through the air.
The real Sky Piercer.
Alter reappeared point-blank, Starsever roaring with lightning and Creator Authority. Salvatore's broken eyes flicked upward—just in time to see the blade pierce his chest.
Straight through.
Directly into his god core.
The impact collapsed the sky around them. A massive sphere of light burst outward. Time distorted. Space bent.
Salvatore shrieked—his voice howling like a dying universe. His body convulsed violently, the god core fracturing, then imploding from within.
Then silence.
His eyes went wide, unseeing.
His mouth hung open, voiceless.
Then—his form cracked, and his body began to break apart into dust, disintegrating into glowing motes of light.
Piece by piece, the demon god known as Salvatore was erased from existence, atom by atom—his hatred, his ego, his power, reduced to ash on the wind.
The battlefield quieted.
Above it all, Alter hovered alone, lightning fading from Starsever. His cape billowed in the void left behind.
He didn't speak.
He didn't gloat.
He simply exhaled—a calm, resolute breath.
Ding—
A soft chime echoed before Alter as the system prompt shimmered to life.
[System Prompt]
🜏 Creator Authority has increased to 54%.
He blinked. Then a slow grin spread across his face—not of arrogance, but of earned satisfaction. His eyes shimmered gold as the notification faded.
"Fifty-four percent," he murmured under his breath. "Not bad at all."
The power coursing through his form was different now. Fuller. Real. Absolute. Each breath carried sovereignty. The winds bent around him. Time felt as if it respected him.
Then—he turned.
Behind him, a field of scattered stone and scorched land, the aftershocks of godhood still vibrating through the atmosphere. And beyond that—his people. His family.
The Dragoons stood in perfect formation, guarding the war-worn heroes.
The team looked stunned. Faces he had not seen in years. Some had grown older. Others hadn't changed at all. But they were here.
Selene stood apart, her face pale with restraint, trembling, staring. But she did not move.
Not yet.
But two did.
"Master!" Mira cried.
"Master…!" Finn breathed.
The two rushed forward, nearly tripping over themselves, and collided into him.
They embraced him without hesitation. Mira's hands clenched his back. Finn's head dipped forward, relief crashing into his shoulders.
"You really came back," Mira whispered, voice cracked.
Alter's divine draconic helmet opened and pulled back. It reformed into a dragon shape that rested behind his upper back. His hair flew out and waved with the wind. He smiled.
"I always return," Alter replied softly, arms wrapping them in a divine warmth.
Behind them, the 12 Commanders stood frozen. Some cheered. Others shouted with joy. A few cried openly—like warriors who had seen a miracle but lost a brother.
But beneath the cheers, a voice broke the joy.
"…Soryn is gone… He's really gone…"
It was Alyxthia. Her delicate voice cracked as she sank to her knees.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands clutched her chest as the finality of her heartbreak emerged.
The cheers dulled. A heavy weight settled across the field.
"…Takayoshi and Soryn… they sacrificed themselves," one commander said bitterly.
Another whispered, "Solien once told us… only someone with 100% Creator Authority could resurrect the dead. Otherwise…"
"…the backlash is fatal."
All eyes turned to Alter. Expecting grief. Expecting fury.
But he stood confused.
"…Why are you all crying?" he asked.
A commander looked up, eyes hollow. "…Because Takayoshi and Soryn are dead."
Alter blinked. "Wait. Takayoshi and Soryn died?"
Everyone nodded.
"…Well, that's not… entirely accurate," Alter said with a crooked grin.
The team paused. Blinked. Mira and Finn looked at each other.
"…What do you mean?" Selene asked carefully.
Alter pointed behind them.
A shimmer of light rippled across the field.
Takayoshi reformed in full form—stretching, rubbing the back of his head with an awkward smile.
"Yooo… hey everyone. Uh, surprise?"
The crowd went silent. Jaws dropped.
"…TAKAYOSHI?!" several voices exploded.
"What does this mean?!"
Takayoshi chuckled nervously. "So… uh, yeah. Funny story. I'm not really dead."
"…WHAT?!"
"I mean technically, I'm not alive either. See, I'm actually Alter's clone."
A void of silence followed that statement.
"Come again?" Mira said flatly.
Takayoshi grinned. "Yep. Clone. Permanent clone. Long story. Skill fusion. Divinity. Yadda yadda. Alter pulled it off. Has all the memories, all the style, but still… a clone."
Alter stood behind him with arms crossed, trying not to laugh.
The team's brains broke simultaneously. Comprehension eluded them.
Then—
"…So what about… Soryn?" Alyxthia asked softly, barely able to raise her voice.
Alter turned to her. Smiled.
The air shimmered again.
Soryn reformed beside him—grinning wide, hair tied, arms wide like a stage performer at curtain call.
"Ta-da~! Did you miss me?"
"…Wha—what…?"
"I'm also a clone," he said with zero hesitation. "Same setup. Made from the original. Embedded with all the charm and smiles."
Alyxthia stared, speechless. Then her legs gave out as she sat frozen on the ground.
"…I fell in love with a clone?"
Soryn rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Still me though?"
Selene's expression finally broke. Her hand clenched over her mouth.
She stepped forward.
Alter locked eyes with her. His smile gentled. He moved slowly—stopping exactly two meters away.
Then he extended his hand.
"…So," he said quietly, "Now that you know Soryn was just me all along… What do you think about the marriage proposal?"
Selene's breath hitched.
Her mind raced back—the days in the capital, the stolen conversations, the training field banters, the shared silences.
Every glance from Soryn.
Every smile.
It had always been him.
Tears brimmed. Her lips trembled. Then—
She smiled.
And stepped forward.
Selene reached for his hand, and as their fingers touched, she fell into his arms, burying her face into his chest.
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Cries of joy. Whoops. Whistles. Finn yelling, "Took you long enough!" Mira laughing through tears.
But they didn't hear them.
Not the noise.
Not the world.
Just each other.
Selene pulled back, just enough to look at him.
Her eyes were shimmering. Alter's gaze never left hers.
His hand rose to gently lift her chin.
Then, he leaned in—
Their lips met.
The world roared behind them.
But within their embrace, time stopped.
The Sovereign had returned.
The love long paused had finally awakened.
And the world—
watched in silence.
Takayoshi and Soryn stood side by side near the shattered altar, facing the endless shimmer of the sea as it sparkled beneath the fractured twilight. The distant cries of gulls echoed through the wind, carrying a calmness that clashed with the chaos they had just survived.
Then suddenly—
"Yay! Finally!" Soryn shouted, throwing both arms into the air like a triumphant child. "Operation: Sweep Selene Off Her Feet and Send Her to the Heavens has officially been completed!"
A long silence followed.
Everyone turned slowly to look at him.
"…Wait," Finn blinked. "You gave it a name?"
"An operation name?" Mira asked, half-choking a laugh.
Even the Dragoons tilted their heads in mild disbelief.
Selene froze mid-kiss, her lips just having parted from Alter's. Her brows knit.
She looked at Soryn. Then back at Alter.
Then the realization dawned.
"…Wait… all of this… was a prank?!"
Before he could speak, SLAP.
Her palm struck Alter's face.
The sound echoed.
Everyone flinched.
Except Alter.
He didn't move an inch. Not even a blink. The slap hadn't even left a mark.
But Selene's hand? Red. Trembling slightly from the impact.
"…Oww."
Alter reached up and gently cupped her injured hand, the warmth of his healing aura flowing into her fingers.
"…Sorry for the prank," he said softly. "But this moment here… right now… isn't."
He pulled her into a gentle embrace again. Her breath caught.
And after a pause, she smiled.
Selene leaned into his chest, resting her forehead there. "You're an idiot," she whispered.
"True," he replied with a smirk.
But the moment was interrupted by Takayoshi clapping his hands loudly. "Alright, lovebirds. Plenty of time for romance back home."
Alter raised a brow. "Home..."
"Long story. Later," Takayoshi shrugged. "But first—what's next?"
Selene slowly stepped out of Alter's arms, and he turned toward the team. His expression hardened, serious once again.
"Alright," Alter said. "Fill me in. Why were you all at Wyrmgate Hollow to begin with?"
Takayoshi answered with a casual shrug. "Treasure. Expedition reports said there might've been a sealed vault here."
Alter narrowed his eyes. "Treasure? Who gave you that lead?"
Takayoshi blinked. "Uh… some historian back in Celestia. Why?"
Alter exhaled. "Because ten years ago, I fought Salvatore here. I sealed him under the altar myself and personally reported it to the guild."
The entire expedition team froze.
"…Wait. Ten years ago?" one of the commanders stammered. "That was before any of us met…"
"That's right," Alter said grimly. "And the record should've marked this place as a Forbidden Catastrophe-ranked dungeon."
There was a collective gasp. Selene's eyes widened. Mira mouthed the words to herself. Even the Dragoons stiffened.
Then Alter turned his head, eyes locking onto the one figure who stood isolated at the edge of the group—Lucian.
"You…" Alter said, voice flat.
Lucian flinched. "W-what?"
Alter stepped forward slowly, golden eyes shifting into swirling galaxies—Universe Eyes.
"So you're the Hero of Light, huh?"
Without another word, Alter vanished.
He reappeared in front of Lucian, arm extended.
SHLKT.
His hand stabbed straight into Lucian's chest—but not into flesh. His fingers entered a rift embedded deep within Lucian's body, beyond what others could see.
"Wha—?!"
Everyone cried out.
Lucian screamed as Alter's arm pulsed with golden light. With a sudden pull, two radiant orbs of light were ripped from within.
"AAARGH!"
Lucian dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, veins darkening.
Alter stared at the two glowing orbs in his hand.
"So that's why your Light affinity was so unnatural."
The orbs flickered—one gleamed like sunfire, the other shimmered with a mirror-like gleam.
He lifted them for all to see. "You carried the blessings of two demon gods—Illusion and Illumination."
The crowd exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"Demon blessings?!"
"That's impossible!"
Lucian roared. "MY BLESSINGS! GIVE THEM BACK!"
But his voice… was different now.
His face twisted, losing its ethereal beauty. His form flickered, contorted. His once-golden hair dulled. His skin cracked. His eyes turned black at the edges.
"…You're not the Hero of Light," Alter said coldly. "You're the Host of Deceit."
Lucian lunged—only to be slammed down by golden chains that erupted from the ground.
CLANG! SHKT! THWACK!
They coiled around his limbs, neck, and torso, forcing him down.
"These are Divine Chains," Alter said. "Used to bind lesser demon gods. You're not going anywhere."
The two orbs trembled violently in his palm.
He lifted two fingers on his left hand and began a divine chant. Ancient syllables rolled off his tongue, echoing across the ruins.
Golden runes materialized in the air above the orbs, glowing like suns. Then—SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!—they smashed into the orbs, sealing them.
They pulsed once. Then quieted.
Alter tossed the sealed orbs into his dimensional storage.
He turned to the group. "For now—rest. We return to Celestia soon."
The field slowly relaxed. Tension released. Commanders whispered among themselves. The Dragoons exhaled. Lucian groaned under the bindings, ignored.
At a nearby boulder, Alter and Selene sat together, side by side, not speaking, just existing.
Meanwhile, the six Dragoons stood surrounded by the Twelve Commanders.
Finn stepped up, arms crossed. "So… you six. You're…?"
"Master's personal disciples," said Vellmar Dreadmoor, nodding.
There was a pause. Then—
"...Wait," Darius said. "Disciples? Like… 15th to 20th?"
Elira Mistshade shrugged. "Sounds about right."
Finn's eyes narrowed. "We were trained directly by Takayoshi and Alter… does that make them the junior batch?"
Jaris Tenvahl leaned in. "More like… the 'trauma batch.'"
Mira's eyes sparkled. "What training did you go through?"
The Dragoons looked at each other.
Then they shivered. Simultaneously.
Talia whispered, "...Ghost Step in the Valley of Wind…"
Vellmar muttered, "...Zero Distance into an active crater…"
Rhed stared into the void. "...The clone field… thirty-six of him… all using Starfall…"
Selin simply said, "...No talking."
Even the hardened commanders gulped.
"Wait," Mira said. "Are you telling me… you trained so hard… that you're all traumatized?"
The Dragoons nodded in solemn, haunted unity.
Talia added with a grin, "It's why we're this strong."
"…I see," Finn whispered. "So that's the level we're competing with now."
In the background, Alter and Selene watched the group with quiet amusement.
The battle was over.
But the legacy had only just begun.
The group stood silently before Alter, gathered in the aftermath of battle. Lucian, still bound in divine chains, writhed at the edge of the group—his screams having long turned into hoarse, pitiful groans. The air was calm, too calm, but heavy with divine tension.
Then Alter raised his hand.
The world warped.
Space twisted, light folded inward, and the earth beneath their feet shattered into light. In the blink of an eye, the burned ruins of Wyrmgate Hollow vanished—
—replaced by the pristine marble flooring and towering crystalline pillars of Celestia's Royal Audience Hall.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Guards at the gate dropped their weapons in panic. Ministers stumbled back. The king and queen, seated upon their twin thrones, rose in stunned disbelief. The royal family and entire court were present, as if mid-session.
"W-What is the meaning of this?" the king called out. "Who dares—?!"
Then they saw him.
Soryn stepped forward, his princely aura calm and unshaken. His draconic robes fluttered slightly in the divine residual wind still clinging to the group.
"Your Majesty," he said firmly, bowing slightly, "We have returned from the ruins of Wyrmgate Hollow. The Demon God Salvatore has been defeated."
A collective wave of relief passed through the ministers like wind through leaves.
But before anyone could speak—
THUMP.
A body was hurled forward across the polished floor.
Lucian's chained form crashed to the base of the throne dais.
The king's eyes widened. "Who is this? Why is he bound?!"
Soryn did not hesitate. "This… is the Hero of Light. Lucian."
Shock overtook the court.
"That's impossible!" barked the High Chancellor, stepping forward with fury. "The Hero of Light, bound like a criminal? Are you mocking the sanctity of Celestia?! This must be a lie—a Drakareth sabotage! How dare you accuse our own Hero—!"
"SILENCE!"
The voice wasn't Soryn's.
It was deeper. Thunderous. It cracked across the marble like a falling star.
The air vibrated.
The walls groaned.
All eyes turned.
And there—hovering slightly above the ground in silver-blue celestial dragon armor—was Alter.
His presence radiated not pressure, but sovereignty. A storm of divinity cloaked him, silent and unchallenged.
The chancellor's voice died in his throat.
Then—"KNEEL."
It wasn't a request. It was an order from the cosmos.
The chancellor dropped to his knees immediately, his forehead sweating rivers, heart pounding from a fear he could not explain.
The ministers followed. Even the guards, weapons trembling in their hands, collapsed on their knees. Their instincts screamed worship, and they obeyed.
Only the royal family remained standing—but barely. Their legs trembled.
Alter stepped forward, eyes glowing like twin supernovas.
"You dare accuse him?" he said, voice echoing like judgment from the firmament. "You dare question his word? I haven't even begun to pick a bone with all of you."
A ripple of terror passed through the room.
The king forced himself to speak. "P-Please, divine one… if we have wronged you… tell us. What have we done?"
Alter's gaze fell on him, and the king nearly collapsed.
"You want to know?" Alter said. "Fine."
His voice dropped lower—colder.
"Ten years ago, I fought and sealed the Demon God Salvatore in the Wyrmgate Hollows. I personally reported it to your guild. It should have been classified as a Catastrophe-tier forbidden zone. Any proper investigation would have made this clear."
He pointed at the chained Lucian.
"Instead… you sent in an expedition. You allowed a Hero to lead others into the sealed site of a Demon God, without oversight, without records, without any understanding of what slumbered there."
His aura flared. A deep rumble echoed through the hall. The chandeliers shook. A hairline crack crawled across a pillar. Even the sky beyond the stained-glass windows seemed to dim.
"You nearly got my disciples killed. You endangered my comrades. And worst of all… you nearly killed her."
He looked at Selene.
Selene stepped forward, clutching Alter's arm tightly.
"Alter, please," she said gently. "Even if they were careless… they still treated us well during your absence. Forgive them this once."
The raging aura stilled.
He closed his eyes… then sighed.
"…Fine," he said. "Because you spoke for them."
He turned back to the throne.
"But hear me, Celestia. There will not be a next time. Ever."
The king and queen bowed deeply. "We understand. You have our sincerest apologies."
Alter gave a final nod.
Then his gaze shifted to Lucian, still writhing on the floor like a worm.
He raised one hand.
Lucian's body lifted from the ground like a puppet, suspended by invisible force. His head tilted back as Alter extended his fingers toward him.
A chant echoed from Alter's lips—old, divine, and absolute.
From Lucian's skull, an opaque stream of energy poured out—his life's impressions, his secrets, his past.
It twisted and coalesced into a floating, prism-like diamond that sparkled with light and shadows—a Memory Crystal.
Alter caught it.
He looked into the memory for a moment and then he tossed it toward a nearby celestial soldier.
"Those are Lucian's memories," Alter said coldly. "Use them."
He stepped back.
"There are dark forces moving beneath your cities. Cultists plotting. Demon gods waiting to be summoned again. If you have any hope of surviving what's to come—start by hunting the cult. Cull them before they cull you."
Silence.
Then—
"...Cultists? Demon gods walking the mortal realm?" one minister muttered in horror.
Alter's golden eyes glinted. "This was never just about Salvatore. This… is only the beginning."
With that, he waved his hand.
A burst of light consumed the room.
When it faded—
Alter, Selene, the Dragoons, the commanders, and Lucian were gone.
Only the royal family and officials remained, pale and shaking.
The king collapsed to his knees.
"…That presence… That was truly… a god."
The queen trembled beside him.
He turned toward the soldier holding the Memory Crystal.
"Get it to the Grand Arcanum. I want every mage and seer decoding that thing."
Then he stood, voice rising with command and dread.
"Send the decree. Search every province. Hunt every cult. From this moment on, Celestia wages silent war on the worshippers of the abyss."
The royal guards saluted.
Orders flew. Bells rang. The war had quietly begun.