After Alaya awakened Tribal from the silence, he returned to himself.But something in him had changed.
The humans and creatures who once surrounded him stepped back, seized by fear. Only a few spiritualists remained — among them, Niraga. Loyal and serene, he became Alaya's right hand.
It was then that she told Tribal everything that had happened during his absence.She revealed that a stranger had helped her — and that this stranger was precisely the one they had spent so long searching for.She also revealed, with sorrow, that none of the Giants had survived.
The world had already embraced new paths.The tribes had reorganized.The spiritualists guided small groups.The creatures lived at the far edges of the planet.
And Tribal… had learned to tear the fabric of space-time.Alaya taught him. Niraga learned as well.
For decades — or centuries, depending on perspective — the three wandered through the rifts in search of Akasha. They crossed planes where time folded, places where light sang, and corridors where memory itself could not enter.
They never found him.
The search had a price.Niraga, whose life had been extended by the presence of Tribal and Alaya, lived for a little more than a millennium. He aged slowly, like a quiet and gentle sage. Tribal and Alaya cared for him in his final years — washing his feet, feeding him with their hands, watching over his sleep, listening to his last words.
When Niraga departed, Tribal did not cry.But he felt.
He saw Niraga's essence dissolve and return to the All.Return to Adargas.
It was then he understood:Akasha was not hiding — he simply did not wish to be found.His presence was everywhere, like a breath inside every molecule.But his revelation… that would only happen when he chose.
So Tribal and Alaya made a new decision.
They would walk the planet.As mortals.
They traveled without haste.They paused to observe rivers, trails, merchants.They slept under the stars, ate simple meals, traded stories with elders and children.Peace reigned.
But time… time is the enemy of waiting.And everything began repeating itself.
Humans divided once again.Creatures dominated others.Wickedness resurfaced through small choices.
But Tribal saw it differently now.He saw balance.
Just as a wolf hunts to live, conscious beings must also collide to maintain the tension between chaos and order.
Alaya taught him:imperfection is part of harmony.Absolute good does not evolve.
And in simple humans she saw beauty: healers, silent mothers, gentle shepherds, village teachers, kind wanderers.
Both Tribal and Alaya could feel the planet the way one feels one's own body.They knew where every ant was, every drop of dew.Akasha's awareness was constant, but they did not fear it.
One day, their steps led them to the "city."
Sanghanirmāna.
The city of men.
Built only by humans, far from the borders where creatures still lived among the children of Earth. It was a vertical city, rising like a mountain of stone, iron, and dreams. Each floor seemed like a layer of human history carved into the sky.
At its center, a king — strong and imposing — drove his people to work without rest.At his side stood a spiritualist engineer — a rarity.
Tribal and Alaya spoke with him. They learned that after the Great Silence, spiritualists, humans, and creatures began merging their abilities. This one in particular loved to build. With his help, the king raised Sanghanirmāna in only twenty years.
Many lives were lost.But the excuse was always the same:the greater good.
Tribal and Alaya decided to live there as humans.They bought a small house.Opened a restaurant on the edge of the city.Learned about currency, bargaining, and time marked by bells.
Twenty years passed.
The city continued to grow.Soon, their restaurant was no longer on the edge — but in the middle.
Sanghanirmāna expanded outward and upward.It touched the sky.It stood taller than any mountain Tribal had ever seen.
The king was now sixty — but he did not age.He fed on the spiritualist's life force.No one knew how long he might live.
One late afternoon, after closing the restaurant, Tribal and Alaya climbed a hill to watch the sunset. They wished to see how much the city had grown.
The sky was calm. The wind light. They smiled.
Then something changed.
A presence erupted like a silent thunder.
Tribal froze.He knew that presence.
He rose in an instant, tears already forming.
"FATHER!"
Alaya's heart hammered in her chest.
Far below, the city plunged into chaos.People screamed — but no one understood anyone.Each spoke a different tongue.
At the edge of reality, a being approached.With each step, he crossed kilometers.His aura was so beautiful it made time slow.
When he reached them — Adargas stood before them.
"How are you, my son?" he asked.
Tribal said nothing.He ran to him and embraced him.He cried like never before.Adargas wrapped him in his arms, stroking his head as one comforts the universe itself.
"Come," Adargas said softly."Let us talk."
And the world seemed to stop… to listen.