Recap of Chapter 15:
Ka'roth shattered the sky with his roar, leaping into the Second Realm—floating continents suspended in the void, home to countless Sky-Born. He tore their armies apart, warped their radiant lands with abyssal mist, and bent their survivors to his will. His horde followed, swarming upward through fractured heavens. Now, Ka'roth has torn open a rift to the final realm: The Throne of the First Makers, where the ancient creator beings dwell.
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Crossing the Rift
Ka'roth's massive frame stepped through the rift, his jagged wings dragging streaks of abyssal-silver light behind him. His horde, thousands strong now—raptors, tusked grazers, winged predators, and abyss-born hybrids—poured in after him like a flood.
The void stretched infinitely, but ahead loomed something immense: a throne so large it dwarfed stars, carved from obsidian and burning with rivers of molten gold. Around it floated dozens of shattered worlds, chained in orbit, their broken fragments glowing faintly.
Upon the throne sat the Makers.
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The First Makers Revealed
They were titanic beyond comprehension, their forms only half-material. Their bodies shifted constantly—sometimes humanoid, sometimes bestial, sometimes shapes that could not be named. Their heads bore countless eyes, and their voices blended into a single rumble that shook the void.
"Ka'roth."
The sound struck like a physical force. The horde behind him flattened instantly, pressed low by pure weight of presence. Even space itself bent under the sound.
Ka'roth's runes flared brighter, abyssal flames crackling along his jagged wings. His glowing white eyes locked on the Makers.
"You created," he growled, his voice rumbling across endless black. "And then you abandoned."
The Makers' many voices answered:
"We birthed worlds to watch them devour themselves. You were to be no more than beast."
Ka'roth's claws tore into the void beneath him. "I was never beast."
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The First Strike
Without warning, the Makers moved. One raised a hand the size of a continent, swinging it downward. It struck Ka'roth like a meteor, hurling him back through drifting fragments of broken worlds.
Ka'roth roared, spinning mid-flight, wings flaring to stabilize. His tail lashed, spiked tips cracking apart floating landmasses as he slowed his momentum.
He surged forward, faster than ever, claws blazing abyssal-white. He slammed into the Maker's colossal arm, biting down hard. His jaws tore through flesh and cosmic bone, ripping out chunks that bled radiant ichor into the void.
Another Maker swung from behind, its fist crashing into Ka'roth's spine. Pain flared white-hot, but Ka'roth twisted mid-strike, his wings slicing across its chest, splitting it open.
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The War of Creation
The void erupted into chaos.
Ka'roth's horde surged forward, climbing across drifting worlds and attacking the Makers' lower forms like swarms of black fire. Raptors sank claws into their tendrils. Winged predators tore at their countless eyes. Abyss-born beasts lunged upward, exploding in clouds of mist that corroded their flesh.
The Makers fought back, tearing apart entire fragments of reality and hurling them like weapons. Each strike annihilated scores of Ka'roth's beasts, but they rose again, bound by his will.
Ka'roth dove low, claws outstretched, and ripped an entire Maker's leg off, hurling it spinning through the black void. Its roar shook shattered worlds apart.
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The Fusion of Abyss and Sky
Ka'roth's runes burned brighter than ever. Abyssal mist boiled outward, now infused with radiant silver light. His wings pulsed with sharp arcs of energy, each beat warping the void.
He slammed into another Maker's chest, piercing straight through it. His claws burst out its back, dripping in silver and black. He ripped free a massive glowing heart, crushing it in his jaws. Energy poured into him.
The Abyss roared in his mind:
"This is your moment. Take the Throne!"
Ka'roth bellowed, his voice breaking stars.
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The Throne Battle
The largest Maker—towering even among its kin—rose fully from the Throne. Its body shimmered like molten metal, and its countless eyes all focused on Ka'roth.
"End."
It lunged forward, hands closing around Ka'roth's chest, squeezing with strength that could crush worlds. Ka'roth roared in pain, but his runes flared violently, abyssal tendrils stabbing out from his body, piercing its arms.
He bit down on its neck, tearing deep, then whipped his spiked tail across its head. One of its countless eyes burst in an eruption of golden fire.
Ka'roth twisted violently, breaking free, and slammed the titan backward into its own throne.
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The Final Kill
Ka'roth climbed its body like a predator scaling prey, claws carving trenches deep into its glowing flesh. The Maker roared, swinging wildly, but Ka'roth clung tighter.
He reached its head, jaws wide, glowing runes scorching its surface.
"Fall," Ka'roth growled.
He bit down, his teeth splitting its skull in one brutal snap. His claws tore its throat open, and with one final wrench, Ka'roth ripped its head free and hurled it into the void.
The Maker's body convulsed once, then collapsed lifeless upon the Throne.
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The Claim
Ka'roth planted one massive clawed foot upon the corpse and roared. His voice carried across the void, shattering smaller realms, echoing louder than any sound before.
The remaining Makers recoiled. Some fled into the depths of creation. Others froze, trembling, their countless eyes dimming.
Ka'roth's abyssal mist surged outward like a storm, engulfing the Throne. The black-silver energy spread across its massive structure, rewriting its glow. The molten rivers running along it darkened to abyssal black edged in white fire.
Ka'roth seated himself upon the Throne.
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The God-Beast Ascends
Power flooded him—Abyss, Sky, and Creation itself. His frame expanded further, wings stretching beyond measure, their edges fracturing reality wherever they moved. His runes flared until they blazed like stars. His eyes burned pure white fire.
The void itself bent around him. The chains that once bound all worlds shattered.
Ka'roth was no longer Sovereign. No longer beast.
He had become the Apex of Creation.
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The New Order
His horde knelt across the fractured realms, their heads low, their bodies trembling. Ka'roth's aura pressed down on them heavier than mountains. Even the Makers that survived lowered their countless heads.
Ka'roth roared once more—a roar that tore through all realms, binding them. Abyssal mist rolled outward endlessly, fusing creation into his dominion.
"Rise," his voice thundered. His horde lifted themselves. His abyss-born hybrids surged taller, warped stronger, transformed by his aura.
"We march higher."
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The End of Chains
The Throne pulsed beneath him, reshaped by his abyssal will. The floating realms connected by black-silver bridges. The void bent, stars spiraled closer, pulled into his gravity.
Ka'roth stood from his throne, wings unfurling so wide they blotted out existence itself.
"This era dies," he growled. "And my age begins."
The Abyss whispered in reverence:
"There are no higher steps left. You are all steps."
Ka'roth's fangs glinted as he gazed into the endless black beyond creation.
"Then I will make more."
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