Ashura hovered above the city, the faint hum of purple and black lightning dancing along his coat and arms. The world seemed calm, but he knew better. The murder of the continental hunter was only the beginning. Somewhere beyond the veil of reality, the Outer Gods—beings from universes that his mind could barely comprehend—were moving their forces.
Their names carried weight, even across dimensions: Kurotsukami, the God of Obsidian Veins, capable of turning living matter into unbreakable black stone and commanding armies of corrupted titans; Shinraikami, the God of Shattered Storms, who could warp the weather on a continental scale and send sentient lightning to hunt his enemies; and Yamitsukami, the God of Consuming Darkness, who could erase memory, bend shadows into sentient assassins, and corrupt human vessels from within.
They didn't come personally—at least, not yet. Their armies moved instead, vessels that had been bound to humans or other mortals, bodies already hardened and trained to perfection. Ashura could sense them: precise, deliberate, and deadly. Hundreds, then thousands of soldiers spread across dimensions and the planet itself, each one capable of fighting like a demi-god. Some could face armies alone; others moved as units, coordinating strikes with terrifying efficiency.
He narrowed his eyes, scanning the threads of energy that stretched across the world. So this is what it means to be the protector…
Even so, he was not afraid. Not yet. Every vessel, every soldier he could sense paled in comparison to the lessons he had learned in the class-related dungeons, the Frost Domain, or in the battle against the Nameless One's awakened form. Ashura's aura expanded as he drew in energy, a faint hum of power vibrating along the edges of the city. Purple lightning coiled over his body like a living storm.
And yet…
A memory flickered in the back of his mind. It had been long ago, during the early days of his travels when he had not yet ascended to the Frost Domain. A mysterious seer had approached him—an old woman with silver hair and eyes that glimmered like stars. She had whispered a prophecy:
"A storm will come for you, Ashura Bellet… one not born of lightning or fire, nor of mortal hand. It will pierce the heavens, bending the threads of fate. And in its shadow, your life will end… unless you surpass what even the Nameless One foresaw."
He had laughed at it then. Arrogantly, dismissively. But now, as he felt the silent movements of the outergod armies across the planet, a small chill ran down his spine. Not fear… but anticipation.
So the prophecy speaks of me, he thought, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. It doesn't matter. They may come with thousands, tens of thousands, or even gods themselves… but I am the Nameless Apostle. I am Ashura Bellet. And none shall stop me.
He clenched his fists, the black and purple lightning coiling around his arms with a hiss. He could almost feel the soldiers' hearts racing as they spread across the land, unaware of the storm that was already watching them.
"Bring them," he muttered under his breath. "I'll show them what it means to face me… and the price of arrogance."
The city below continued its daily life, completely unaware. But somewhere, across the dimensions, the Outer Gods—Kurotsukami, Shinraikami, and Yamitsukami—watched and whispered to their armies, their intentions deadly and precise. Their vessels would strike. Their soldiers would descend.
And Ashura Bellet? He only smiled, the storm of purple and black lightning dancing violently across his form as he prepared for the inevitable confrontation.
The prophecy lingered at the back of his mind, a distant warning. And for the first time in years, he felt the thrill of a challenge worthy of his fury.
The war was coming. And Ashura would not only survive—it would bend to his will.