By now, Alter had long abandoned any illusion that he was in control.
Sure, he'd slain Demon Gods, survived the Trial of Ascension, and rebuilt nations from ashes. But two babies?
Two babies were undefeated.
It started innocently enough one dawn.
Blazebloom, now acting as a semi-permanent baby pillow (and sometimes stealth walker), had just laid Serenya down after a warm bath. Kaelion, freshly changed, was nestled against Alter's chest, pawing at his collar with the quiet authority of a future tyrant.
"Alright, you two," Alter whispered. "Time for—"
Burp.
Fwoosh.
A tiny flame—barely larger than a candle wick—emerged from Kaelion's mouth. It harmlessly singed the edge of Alter's tunic, which he smothered immediately with one hand.
"…He's teething fire already?"
Blazebloom blinked. "Didn't you do that at like… age twelve?"
"I wasn't a baby!" Alter hissed.
"You were literally a baby dragon."
"That's different—"
Fwoosh.
Another baby belch. Another singe.
"…I'm going to need flameproof bibs," Alter muttered as Kaelion gave a victorious gurgle and kicked his feet like a tiny sun god.
Later that day, the diaper wars resumed.
Selene had gone to rest, and Alter boldly declared, "I'll handle this round."
Blazebloom, now in plush bear mode and swaddled in a baby sling, simply said, "Your funeral."
With precision, Alter unwrapped Serenya from her cocoon blanket. Everything seemed calm.
Until she laughed.
He froze.
That laugh was a trap.
She kicked both legs in glee—
Splurt.
"…By the stars above," he whispered, holding up his hand—coated in something unspeakable. "Why. Does. This. Smell. Like corruption magic!?"
Selene peeked in. Saw him frozen. Then slammed the door shut with a muffled "Good luck!" from outside.
There were sweeter antics, of course.
Serenya had developed the adorable (but chaotic) habit of sneaking into her father's robes while he meditated. Alter, sitting cross-legged under a tree in the courtyard, eyes closed in deep resonance, would suddenly feel a warm giggle against his chest—and look down to find Serenya crawling into his lap, chewing on his aura-threaded belt.
"…I'll need to re-weave that again."
Or the time Kaelion stole Starsever's sheath and tried to wield it like a club. He swung it with surprising force and conked Blazebloom's head, making the bear groan and roll over dramatically. "I've been slain by your heir, Alter. Take the throne, boy."
And then came the dreaded moment.
One morning, Alter awoke to find both twins had climbed onto him. Kaelion on his head. Serenya sprawled across his chest.
He dared not move.
He was sweating.
Selene opened the curtains and gasped.
"Look! The Prime Dragonic Sovereign has been conquered!"
All the female attendants burst into laughter. Mira doubled over. Even Finn had to lean against a doorframe.
"Shut it," Alter said, voice muffled from under Kaelion's squishy weight. "Shut it all."
But the best moment?
That quiet night, when both babies—bathed, fed, and completely clean—fell asleep in his arms, one cradled in each elbow.
Their breathing synchronized. Their fingers twitched slightly, clinging to their father's sleeves.
Selene stepped into the candlelight, a soft towel draped over her arm. Her smile was full of joy and quiet reverence.
"Want me to take one?" she asked gently.
Alter didn't move.
"…No. Just a little longer."
And under the warm golden light of their sanctuary, the Sovereign of Dragons simply sat, holding his legacy.
His most chaotic, beautiful legacy.
The Spiritbloom Tree whispered above him, its petals drifting slowly through the still world's crystalline air. Alter sat still, but his voice trembled faintly—reverberating across realms.
"Seraphina…"
He closed his eyes. "It's good to hear you again."
Her voice arrived like sunlight over a snowfield—gentle, radiant, filled with boundless affection.
"Alter… I've missed you. The Divine Realm has never felt colder without your presence. But… now I can feel you clearly. You're truly alive. You've grown so much."
A pause passed between them.
Alter inhaled softly and replied, "There's something I need to tell you. Everything."
He opened his eyes. And with a gaze cast into the cosmic threads stretching across existence, he began.
He explained the reality of the tether—how its restoration would become a beacon.
Not just for Seraphina. But for the world itself.
A presence like his—housing Creator Authority, having slain a Demon God, having altered divine-demonic balance with impunity—would be sensed.
The world would respond. Rebalance. Not with mercy, but with tragedy.
It would not allow him to remain in the mortal realm much longer.
And thus, he had made his choice.
"I will ascend the Trial once more," Alter said quietly. "I'll climb the steps to the Divine Realm. I'll let the world find me where it already belongs. But before then… I have things I need to do here. Memories I still want to make."
He paused—his breath caught—his voice growing softer.
"I have a family now, Seraphina."
Silence.
Then Seraphina's voice returned, gentle, like a mother holding her child after lifetimes apart.
"…You have a family?"
"Selene… my wife," Alter whispered. "She's everything to me. The calm in all my storms. And our children…"
His voice cracked, even as he tried to hide it.
"A boy and a girl. Twins. Just born. I held them in my arms not long ago. I watched them sleep. I watched them smile. I…"
He lowered his head. "And I'll have to leave them behind."
For the first time… Seraphina said nothing.
Then softly:
"You've become more than even I imagined…"
Her voice quivered with emotion.
"I didn't know. About the world's response. I only wanted to hear your voice again. I didn't realize that calling to you might put everything at risk."
Alter's gaze didn't waver. "It's not your fault. You did what anyone would have done. You reached out for someone you loved."
Another breath passed.
He smiled faintly. "It's alright. I've made peace with it. I'll forge a path, just like always."
But the tremor in his voice didn't lie.
Seraphina replied after a long moment.
"Then I'll do something for you, Alter."
"When you begin your climb to the Divine Realm—when the final step is near—I'll send escorts. Divine ones. I will make sure the gate remains open. You won't wander blind. You won't have to search for me in that endless sky."
Her voice grew firmer, brighter.
"I will find you. I promise."
Alter's chest tightened. His hand unconsciously moved over his heart—over the faint shimmer of the Veil of Origin, the creation that still linked his beloveds together.
"Thank you…" he said softly. "I just need a little more time. A little more time with them. I want to watch them grow, even if only for a short while."
"I understand," Seraphina replied. "I was once a goddess of creation, of beginnings. But even gods must now understand what it means to let go."
They remained there, speaking not as a mortal and a divine—but as kin. As echoes of old promises reforged in a broken world.
The garden of the still world was quiet. Twin streams of crystalwater traced their paths around roots of the great Spiritbloom Tree. Fireflies danced like drifting mana sparks in the warm dusk, while the soft babble of a giggling infant echoed through the courtyard.
Alter sat beneath the wide bloom canopy, his back resting against a moss-wreathed stone bench. One arm gently cradled his son—his tiny fists rising and falling with each breath. On his shoulder rested a sleepy daughter, curled like a bundle of light. Her small fingers, wrapped around his hair, refused to let go.
Selene emerged from the veranda behind him, her footsteps light despite her fatigue. She carried two small blankets in her arms. She paused when she saw him—completely still, his eyes fixed on the branches above as if searching for something far beyond the sky.
"…You're quiet tonight," she said gently.
Alter blinked, pulled from his reverie. "Sorry. Just… listening."
Selene knelt beside him, her eyes soft but searching. She watched the curve of his mouth, the slight tension in his brow. Not fear—but burden. A weight that words had yet to release.
"Alter…" she said. "What's wrong?"
He didn't answer immediately. The babies shifted lightly in his arms, and he gently laid them into the blankets Selene had set beside him. When they were safe and sleeping, he finally turned to her.
His eyes… held pain.
"I spoke with Seraphina," he said.
Selene's breath caught. "Seraphina? The goddess?"
"She reached out again. This time… the tether was almost fully restored. Her voice was clear." He paused. "And I answered."
Selene looked at him, unmoving. Her hands folded tightly in her lap.
He continued. "She didn't know. About the consequences of reconnecting. But I told her. About the world… about the balance. The weight of my presence. The fact that the moment this connection completes, the world itself may seek to strike me down."
Selene's eyes shimmered. "You've known this for a while, haven't you?"
Alter nodded. "Since the moment I heard her voice the first time. I didn't want to believe it. But now… there's no doubt. I've bought us time, but that time is fading."
Selene looked down, her fingers tightening against her robe. "And what did she say?"
"She promised she'd guide me. That when I ascend the Trial again… she'll send divine escorts. She'll make sure I find her."
Silence.
Then Selene whispered, "So you're going to go…"
Alter didn't answer. He didn't need to. The answer was already in his gaze.
"I can't let them find me here. I can't risk them finding you. Or the twins. If I go willingly—if I climb the Trial and re-enter the Divine Realm—then perhaps the world will calm. Perhaps it will rebalance without a tragedy."
He reached out and cupped her cheek. "I want you to understand. I didn't make this choice lightly."
Selene closed her eyes, her breath quivering.
"But why now?" she asked, barely audible. "Why, just when we finally have peace?"
"Because peace is fragile," Alter said softly. "And the moment the world senses me again, it'll shatter."
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "I hate this."
"I know."
"I hate that you always carry the burden alone."
"I know."
Her tears slipped silently down her cheeks, and Alter kissed them away one by one. "But I will return," he said. "Even if I must crawl through broken heavens and walk through shattered time, I will return."
She nodded against his chest. "I'll wait. We'll wait."
They stayed like that under the tree. The twins slept undisturbed beside them. The stars above pulsed in the still world sky—distant, eternal, and watching.
Alter, knowing the time was nearing for his departure to the Divine Realm, quietly left the Still World with Selene's blessing. The weight of goodbye had not fully fallen yet—but he needed to revisit the lands and people who had shaped him. Not as a farewell… but as an honoring of his journey.
He first returned to Newvale—the quiet village where everything began. The air there still smelled of woodsmoke and wet earth. The old trees stood unchanged, but Alter saw them differently now. Once the place of his humble beginning, now the place where the world first set his feet upon the path to divinity.
From there, he traveled north to Newvale, arriving at the Guild Hall, where the tall silver banners still waved over polished stone. Inside, the Guild Master—a sharp-eyed woman who had guided countless adventurers—welcomed him.
They sat in her study, a pot of tea between them, and spoke of old times, of contracts fulfilled and monsters slain. But her gaze eventually turned serious.
"You're returning to your roots," she said, watching his face. "And when a man does that… it's rarely just nostalgia. It's preparation."
Alter didn't respond. He didn't have to. She could read it in his silence.
"I don't know what storm is coming," she continued, "but I hope to see your name in the sky one more time before the heavens claim it."
He left quietly afterward, with her words echoing behind him.
His next stop was the forge.
Brokk, the grizzled dwarf smith, had grown in reputation and skill. His furnace now burned with divine flame—his latest creation, a sky-sunder blade meant for a Seravethian general. Yet when Alter approached, Brokk paused his hammer mid-strike.
"You've got that look, lad," Brokk grunted, pulling off his gloves. "The one a man wears when he's walking into somethin' he may not return from."
Alter gave a quiet chuckle. "You're as blunt as ever."
Brock poured two tankards and passed one over. They sat by the forge, the heat comforting, the air thick with iron and memory.
"Whatever road you're takin'…" Brokk said after a long sip, "...don't stray. It's like forging a blade. You hesitate, you bend wrong, and the whole thing cracks."
Alter nodded, gripping the tankard a little tighter.
That night, he left with a quiet word of thanks. Brokk didn't reply—only nodded and returned to hammering metal, the sparks flying into the stars.
With Newvale and Celestia behind him, Alter turned toward the continent of Terravane, and then finally down to the southern continent of Dratharek.
There, the winds carried dragon song, and the memories were deeper.
His next steps would take him through everything he'd built… before he faced the Divine once more.
The wind over Terravane felt different.
More familiar. More alive.
As Alter descended from the skies atop a veil-cloaked platform—Starsever strapped to his back, wind trailing his coat—he inhaled the sharp bite of salt and pine that defined the western edge of the continent. It was here that so many paths had converged. Here that he had met Finn, Mira, and Blazebloom.
His first destination was the Mythral Dawn fortress, now nestled within a crystalline cliffside facing the sea. The guards, seasoned veterans, didn't question his approach. They merely saluted, opening the gate with reverent silence.
Inside, the halls were warmer than he remembered.
He stepped into the command chamber. There stood Takayoshi, arms crossed, the eternal calm in his eyes broken only by a flicker of instinctual understanding.
"You've returned," Takayoshi said with a nod.
Alter nodded. "I needed to see this place again… before I leave."
Takayoshi studied him. "Is it the connection?"
"Yes."
Takayoshi closed his eyes briefly. "Then it's time."
One by one, the 14 Commanders entered—Finn, sharp-eyed and quiet; Mira, stepping beside him with wind trailing behind her robes. Selene's ring still shimmered on her hand. Each Commander sensed it.
Even Blazebloom, in his regal, divine bear form, nudged Alter's hand with a low growl, then placed a large paw over his chest as if trying to read his pulse.
"It's not a final goodbye," Alter said gently.
Finn's jaw clenched. Mira was the first to speak.
"If you're going… then we'll wait. However long it takes."
He reached forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "You've all grown stronger than I could've ever imagined. And you've made me proud."
"Just don't go ascending into godhood without giving us a rematch first," Finn said with a rare smirk.
"I'll leave a challenge scroll," Alter grinned.
They shared a long moment—no speeches, no ceremonies. Just nods between warriors.
By dusk, Alter had moved outside the fortress. He stood at the overlook, where the wind off the cliffs swept his coat behind him. The sea below glittered like dragon-scale under the light.
He whispered to the wind.
"Thank you."
And with that, he turned toward Dratharek—the southern continent steeped in draconic legacy.
The skies over Dratharek roared with heat as Alter descended.
Dragons soared in the distance, their calls echoing through the volcanic peaks. He landed before the gates of Veyr'Zhalar, the capital carved into the spine of a dormant volcano. It hadn't changed. And yet, it felt… quieter now.
The royal guards recognized him instantly. A horn sounded, echoing through the city.
Within minutes, King Vael'Zarion and Queen Elanra stood in the high courtyard. Prince Kaelen, Prince Ryvar, and Princess Alyxthia soon followed.
"You've returned," the King said, voice calm, though his eyes were searching.
"I had to," Alter replied. "To give thanks. To say goodbye—before the world takes notice of me again."
Alyxthia's face fell. "So… it's happening."
He nodded.
They escorted him inside the Aetherflame Palace. At the hall where he had once forged Dragoon legacy, the king poured him a drink.
"We suspected," Elanra said. "Ever since you gifted us the Dragoons, the forge blueprints, the sacred materials… it was your way of preparing us."
"I only did what I had to. But I couldn't leave without seeing this place… and you."
Draven Stryvalis entered next, nodding respectfully. "If you go, Sovereign… your fire will still remain in Dratharek. The Dragoons stand eternal."
Alter placed a hand on Draven's shoulder. "Make sure they do."
That evening, he sat quietly beneath the lava-bloom trees outside the city. Alyxthia joined him.
"Do you regret it?" she asked. "All of it?"
He smiled faintly. "No. I regret… not having more time."
She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "Then we'll use what's left."
Later that night, Alter visited the Dragoon compound. Though many were away on missions, the elite remained. They gathered upon hearing of his arrival.
Talia, Selin, Rhed, Elira, Vellmar, and Jaris stood in respectful silence.
Alter didn't give a speech. He simply said, "You were never just soldiers. You were my disciples. And I trust you'll lead with that strength."
Jaris stepped forward and saluted. "Even if you're gone… your will stays with us."
Alter placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply in return.
As dawn rose over Dratharek, Alter looked back once more from a cliff's edge, his silhouette bathed in dragonfire light.
His past had been honored. His loved ones visited. His legacy secured.
All that remained… was to face the sky.
At the Mythral Dawn estate, the morning sun cast a gentle light through the dew-laced gardens. The air held a strange stillness, like the pause before a storm.
Aalto stood amidst those he cherished—his comrades, disciples, friends, and family. Each gaze held a different sorrow. Each heart bore its own weight.
He turned first to the twins, who reached for him with tiny, chubby fingers. He knelt, kissing their foreheads with a lingering touch.
"My light... my legacy... always remember me."
They cooed softly, unaware of the moment's gravity.
He hugged them both tightly—one in each arm—and then, with visible reluctance, gently handed them to the waiting maids. The caretakers bowed deeply, cradling the infants with reverent care.
Then came Selene.
She stood quietly, regal yet trembling, a faint shimmer in her eyes. Aalto approached and enveloped her in an embrace that said everything words could not. Time itself seemed to slow.
He leaned close, kissed her deeply, then rested his forehead against hers.
Selene whispered in Elvish, her voice like wind through sacred trees:
"May your path be guided by stars, and may the flame of your soul lead you home to us."
Aalto replied, his own voice low and resolute in the same ancient tongue:
"I will return to you, no matter the storms or stars between us. I swear it."
She clutched his hand one last time… then slowly let go.
And just like that, their warmth separated—physically, not spiritually.
Aalto stepped back. The Mark of Teleportation on his hand pulsed with radiant energy.
One last look. One last breath of the air that smelled of hearth, love, and memory.
Then—
Flash.
He vanished in a shimmer of golden threads, pulled toward destiny.
To the Southern Veil, where the Trial of Ascension stood in eternal silence, awaiting the one who dared to climb its sacred stair once more.
The world held its breath.