I feel empty."
The voice came from beside Aeren.
It was Aman, standing just outside the palace.
Aeren looked at him and understood immediately what he meant. Aman had left behind the world he had spent countless years nurturing—shaping it, protecting it, making it prosperous. The regret was visible in his eyes, heavy and unspoken. And yet, Aeren could also see the truth Aman himself had already accepted: there was nothing he could do about it now. It was necessary. For his own good.
Aeren placed a hand on Aman's shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. "We'll return," he said with a small smile. "And we'll take it back later."
Behind Aeren, Dipti turned to look at Aman. She felt it too. A hollow ache stirred within her chest, as if something precious had been left behind. Instinctively, she pressed a hand against her heart, memories of her own world surfacing—faces, warmth, a sense of belonging she hadn't realized she would miss this much.
Her mood dipped for a moment. Then she clenched her fist. Straightening her back, Dipti lifted her head and gazed into the nothingness ahead—an eternal emptiness, vast and silent, yet strangely warm.
Whatever they had left behind… they would move forward. Together.
As the emptiness from leaving her world lingered, a sudden thought struck Dipti. I don't know anything about Aarav's world… And he doesn't know anything about mine. How did I forget something so important?
The realization made her heart flutter with both embarrassment and excitement. She turned toward Aeren immediately.
"Hey, Aarav," she said, grabbing his arm suddenly. Her face lit up with a bright, genuine smile, her voice full of anticipation. "Do you know about my world?" She wasn't really expecting an answer. She just wanted to hear him speak. To see if—somehow—he already knew.
Aeren blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"Ahh…" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as if searching for the right words. She's asking this now? he thought. When she's never told me anything about it… Aman had explained his world in detail. But Dipti? She had only recently acknowledged him—yet she spoke as if they had known each other for centuries. Aeren sighed inwardly.
"No," he said honestly. "I don't." She paused. "You never told me anything about your world," he continued calmly. "Or how many times I may—or may not—have destroyed it."
The words were blunt. Too blunt. But they were true.
What he didn't say—what he chose not to do—was that he could see her world if he wanted to. He could reach into it without her consent, understand it instantly. But that would be too easy. And for once—Aeren didn't want easy.
In the world of gods and demons, there was no scent—no fragrance to follow, no lingering trace in the air.
Aeren, Aman, and Dipti walked forward together, their footsteps steady as the City of God slowly faded behind them. The noise dulled, growing distant, until only their voices remained.
"Hm. Well, I expected that much from you," Dipti said lightly. "I'll tell you about my world first. Then you have to tell me about yours in return."
She walked with her hands clasped behind her back, glancing sideways at Aeren as she spoke, already gathering her thoughts about how to describe the intricate tapestry of her divine realm. But then she noticed something.
A flash of white.
Her steps slowed. Wait… Her eyes widened slightly as she looked more closely. The fox. When did it get there? How long has it been with him? Did I really miss something…?
The white fox was perched calmly, almost blending into Aeren's presence, so seamlessly integrated that Dipti felt a sudden surge of something—surprise mixed with something sharper, something that made her chest tighten unexpectedly. She looked up. Aeren was watching her with quiet anticipation, clearly waiting for her to continue.
"Of course," he said with a gentle smile. "I'll share mine as well. Go ahead."
Even Aman's ears twitched faintly at his words, curiosity piqued. Dipti hesitated, then nodded, preparing to begin her story. But something nagged at her attention. "Hm… hey, Aarav," she asked, unable to stop herself, "when did your fox come back to you?"
She hadn't planned to ask. But curiosity had won.
"Oh," Aeren replied casually. "It's been here from the start. I brought it with me in the beginning." He lifted a hand toward his hair slightly. "It was hiding there. That's why you didn't notice."
Aeren said it without much thought.
But Dipti—Dipti felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest.
Something tight and unpleasant stirred inside her, followed by a flash of frustration so strong it startled her. For a brief moment, a faint killing intent almost leaked from her—directed not at Aeren…
But at the fox.
She clenched her fist, forcing the feeling down, walking on as if nothing had happened. Yet the irritation lingered. Silent. Unspoken. And growing.
Aeren noticed her gaze lingering—fixed too long on his head. "Dipti…" he called her name. She jolted, looking at him with stunned surprise, as if waking from a trance. Her own killing intent had startled her.
"What are you staring at?" Aeren asked lightly. "Don't you want to tell me about your world?"
His words pulled her back completely. Dipti snapped her eyes open and met his gaze. What is happening to me? Why am I reacting like this? Why do I feel… possessive?
She paused for a few moments, her thoughts tangled and uneasy. Even as she tried to calm herself, the killing intent toward the fox still lingered faintly in her heart. She knew it. She was crossing a line. And yet—she couldn't fully control it.
Dipti looked at Aeren again and forced herself to steady her breathing. She drew cosmic energy around herself, letting it flow through her like a familiar ritual, each breath an attempt to stabilize the storm building inside her chest.
"Oh—yes," she said, her tone returning to normal. "I was just… distracted by the fox." She lowered her gaze to the ground and continued drawing in the surrounding cosmic energy, using it to calm her emotions and stabilize herself.
"I didn't know about that fox either, Aarav."
The voice came from the side. Dipti turned and saw Aman speaking, his expression oddly similar to hers—uneasy, faintly disturbed. His shoulders were tense, and there was something searching in his eyes as he studied the white creature.
She realized then that he was reacting the same way she was. It's too white, she thought unconsciously. Too clean… too noticeable to hide in him all this time.
The fox sat quietly, unmoving. And yet—something about its presence was beginning to unsettle everyone except Aeren. There was something fundamentally wrong about a creature that didn't tremor, didn't fidget, didn't show any sign of the natural anxiety that came with proximity to such immense divine power.
"You two are thinking too much about this fox," Aeren said, looking at both of them with mild confusion. He slipped the fox into his hair, cradling it carefully—as if holding a sleeping child. His hand moved gently, patting its soft fur with an almost tender protectiveness.
The fox no longer trembled like it had a week ago. The fear that once clung to it was gone. Now it rested quietly at his side, calm and obedient.
"See?" Aeren said lightly. "It's fine. You can see it now."
Dipti and Aman exchanged a glance. Neither of them spoke immediately. Something about his words felt… wrong.
Dipti finally stepped forward. "That's not what we meant, Aarav," she said carefully. She paused, then continued, her expression serious.
"We're not saying we need to see the fox. We're saying this fox might be dangerous. It could harm you in the future." Her eyes lingered on the fox, studying it with an intensity that spoke volumes. The possessiveness she had felt earlier was gone—suppressed and buried. What remained was something colder. Something more thoughtful.
Concern.
Aeren looked at Dipti, almost smiling, then shifted his gaze to Aman. Aman's expression mirrored hers. That was when Aeren understood.
In this world, no god accepted slavery.
That was why hierarchy barely existed. Why freedom was absolute. Even nobles and the King of Gods had no authority to control others. Their role was protection—nothing more. They safeguarded civilization, but they did not interfere.
Control was forbidden by nature itself.
So if a fox was willingly accepting obedience—submission—then something was wrong. Either the fox was not what it seemed. Or it was waiting.
And that thought lingered, unspoken, as they continued walking forward—three gods, one silent fox, and a question none of them were ready to answer yet.
Aeren lifted the fox and settled her gently into his hair. Then he looked at both of them, his expression calm and assured. "Don't worry," he said evenly. "I'm stronger. And she's following me by her own choice."
He stopped walking and faced them fully.
"I'm about to break through," Aeren continued, a faint grin showing his teeth. "From Initial Breath to Mid-Breath. I just need a little more experience."
He spoke as if it were nothing extraordinary. And he didn't bother addressing the fox again. Aeren knew it clearly—she had no power to threaten him. Without even trying, he had already gained one of the noises he needed.
Aman and Dipti stared at him. Disbelief. Awe.
"Whoa… Aarav," Aman said at last, his mouth slightly open. "You're really going to break through…"
Shock colored his face. Only now did he realize how strong Aeren truly was—and the realization made him feel a little ashamed for never noticing it before. All this time, he had been walking beside a god on the precipice of ascension, and he had been too caught up in his own emptiness to see it.
Dipti, however, looked at Aeren differently. Suspicion flickered in her eyes.
"Even so," she said seriously, "that fox could still be dangerous to you, Aarav. Breaking through doesn't mean you can ignore it." Her concern was genuine, written clearly across her face—even as she understood how significant his progress was. The contradiction of his strength and his potential blindness to danger gnawed at her.
Aeren waved his hand dismissively and reached out, patting her head gently. "I know," he said softly. "You're worried. But I can handle a small child fox like this. Just trust me, Dipti."
She glared at him for a moment—but the warmth of his touch eased her tension. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she looked up at him, her expression softening despite herself.
Aman shifted awkwardly beside them. Watching this happen—again and again—made him feel like he was standing somewhere he didn't belong, caught between something unspoken, something quietly tightening around the two of them as they moved forward together.