Before Ezmelral could fully process the scene—a haunting tableau that struck too close to her own shattered home, stirring echoes of blood and betrayal—Raiking's hand settled on her shoulder. The world blurred in a familiar rush, time folding forward in a dizzying leap, propelling them a hundred years beyond the current events.
When clarity returned, Ezmelral found herself watching the GodKing kneel before his master in the temple's inner sanctum, the air thick with solemnity. The Keeper of Time and Fate extended a ornate decree, her expression a mask of quiet resolve. He accepted it without a word, rising fluidly and turning to leave, his armored footsteps echoing like distant thunder.
As he departed, the Keeper's gaze shifted—locking onto Raiking with a depth that transcended the veil of time. Sadness hung between them, palpable and heavy, a silent current that Ezmelral felt like a chill wind brushing her skin.
"Are you sure you don't know her?" Ezmelral asked, her voice soft, laced with suspicion.
Raiking offered no reply, his crimson eyes unreadable. Instead, he began heading in the same direction as the GodKing, phasing through the chamber's wall like mist through stone. Ezmelral hesitated, glancing back at the Keeper of Time and Fate. The woman met her eyes and gave a subtle nod—encouraging, almost knowing—before Ezmelral hurried after Raiking, slipping through the barrier into the open air beyond.
When she emerged, shock rooted her in place. Before them stretched an army clad in gleaming armor, ranks upon ranks of warriors standing at rigid attention, their weapons glinting under the cosmic light. At their forefront was Shona, his five arms crossed in salute, his expression a blend of loyalty and fierce determination. They all hailed the GodKing as he descended the temple stairs toward them, his presence commanding the very stars to dim.
Once on equal ground, the GodKing didn't break stride, marching forward without pause. Shona stepped aside seamlessly, falling in behind him, and the rest of the army parted like a sea before a storm, forming a path of unwavering discipline.
At the far end of the Garden of Eden, a massive rift tore open—a swirling vortex of light and shadow, humming with raw power. The GodKing was the first to step inside, vanishing into its depths without hesitation. Shona followed, his form swallowed next, then the army surged forward in orderly waves, disappearing one by one into the maw.
Before Ezmelral could voice the question burning on her lips—"Where are they going?"—she felt Raiking's hand on her shoulder again, the familiar pull yanking them forward through time, teleporting them a few hours later.
The rift deposited them in a strange, cavernous void—vast and echoing, the air thick with a pulsing hum that vibrated through Ezmelral's bones like the heartbeat of the world itself. Before them floated a colossal orb, its surface mottled and dark, veins of shadowy energy threading across it like cracks in a rotten egg, emanating a faint, malevolent glow that made her skin crawl.
"Is... is that a seed?" Ezmelral whispered, her voice barely cutting the oppressive silence, eyes wide with a mix of awe and revulsion.
Raiking's gaze remained fixed on the monolith. "It's the Seed of Corruption."
Ezmelral's fists clenched involuntarily, her mind flashing to her mother's twisted form, the gray pallor that had stolen her away. Grief twisted into anger. "Why is it so... big?"
"We're inside the planet's core," Raiking replied, his tone steady as he began to float forward, gesturing for her to follow. The void around them seemed to stretch infinitely, but he navigated it with ease, circling the massive Seed.
She trailed him, her body feeling unnaturally light in the core's strange gravity, until they reached the far side. There, her breath caught—a thick, ethereal root extended from the Seed, vanishing into the unknown depths, pulsing faintly like a lifeline tethering it to something greater.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing with a trembling finger.
"The Sacred Tree's Root," Raiking said simply.
Ezmelral's mind raced back to the story that hadn't yet unfolded in their timeline—the cosmic war, Entities' blood raining upon the Sacred Tree, its grief birthing the curse that embedded Seeds of Corruption in every mortal's Essence Core. "So this... this is the original system?" she murmured, piecing it together.
Raiking nodded. "Here, it judges an entire planet's injustice—not individuals, like the Seeds on Exar. This is the primal form, weighing the collective soul of a world."
"How does it work?" she pressed, staring at the colossal orb with a mix of fascination and dread.
"Every planet is linked by an invisible root from the Sacred Tree, burrowing straight to its core," he explained, his voice echoing softly in the void. "After eons of watching mortals, we realized it was unjust to condemn individuals alone. So we judge the species by the path they've forged—the direction their world spirals toward."
He gestured to the Seed, its surface rippling faintly. "It balances the scales. If injustice outweighs justice by ninety percent... we deem the remaining ten incapable of course-correcting the tide."
Ezmelral's eyes narrowed, doubt flickering. "How can you be so sure? What if they could turn it around?"
Raiking's expression darkened, shadows playing across his features. "Thousands of years, countless worlds—we've witnessed planets teeter, then fall into oblivion. None have ever reversed the descent."
She fell silent, her thoughts drifting to her own planet—Exar, with its brewing shadows, its fragile balance. Are we heading there too?
"To spare the worthy," Raiking continued, "we created the Reincarnation Pool—a haven where souls of justice and discipline flow after death, awaiting rebirth in a cleansed world."
Ezmelral absorbed his words, the weight of the Reincarnation Pool lingering like a fragile promise amid the vast, echoing core. "And as for the unjust... the evil..." Raiking continued, his voice trailing into a grave hush as he placed his hand on her shoulder once more.
The familiar surge pulled them upward, teleporting from the planet's depths to the surface in a disorienting rush. They emerged inside a room filled with wires and machines—strange devices humming with unseen energy, lights blinking like watchful eyes across panels of gleaming metal.
To Ezmelral, whose planet still clung to stone castles and flickering torches, the sight was a wonder beyond words. She stared in amazement, her gaze darting from the tangled cables snaking across the floor to the glowing screens pulsing with cryptic symbols. Then, her eyes locked on the center of the room: a little girl lying on a hospital-like bed, a sleek helmet strapped to her head, wires trailing from it like lifelines to the surrounding machinery.
She turned to Raiking, her voice a whisper of confusion. "Where... where are we?"
"The crossroads," came the reply—but the voice wasn't Raiking's. It was familiar, one she'd heard in fleeting echoes before. Then, beside them, a woman materialized, her form coalescing from the air like mist given shape.
The Keeper of Time and Fate... the GodKing's Master, closest to the Cosmic Will.
Raiking and the Keeper locked eyes, a profound silence stretching between them—a wordless exchange that spoke volumes, heavy with unspoken history.
Ezmelral, having witnessed their lingering, longing looks time and again, felt a pang of something unfamiliar. She puffed her cheeks unknowingly and stepped between them, planting herself firmly as she demanded, "What is the crossroads?"
The Keeper of Time and Fate smiled slightly at Ezmelral's bold behavior, a gentle warmth softening her ethereal features. "This moment, in this room, on planet Deatheny," The Keeper's words hung heavy in the air—"the true cause that will lead to your parents' death." Ezmelral's heart seized, a sharp ache ripping through her chest like a fresh wound torn open. Her parents—gone, stolen by that gray-skinned nightmare. "If... if we know the cause," she stammered, her voice cracking with desperate hope, "can't we change the effect?"
The Keeper of Time and Fate turned her gaze to Raiking, who stood transfixed by the little girl on the hospital bed, his expression a mask of deep ache, lost in thought as if staring into an abyss of his own making. "He can," the Keeper said softly, her words directed at Ezmelral but weighted with unspoken layers.
Ezmelral whirled to face Raiking, her small hands clutching his clothes in a frantic grip, knuckles whitening as she pulled him closer. "Please," she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes, "change the future. You can—do it for me!"
He met her gaze, his crimson eyes shadowed with regret. "I can't."
"Why?!" she cried, her voice breaking into an emotional wail, fists trembling against his chest. "Why not?!"
The Keeper interjected gently, her ethereal presence a calming anchor amid the storm. "Who do you think taught him to traverse time?"
Ezmelral froze, the pieces snapping into place like a lock tumbler aligning. Time and Fate—it was in her title all along, woven into her very essence.
The Keeper continued, her tone measured but firm. "Since I entrusted him with such power, if he dares tamper with any moment... I will bear the backlash. The threads of time would unravel through me."
For a brief, selfish instant, a dark thought flickered in Ezmelral's mind—fueled by grief and desperation. "But... didn't you say you didn't know her?" she blurted aloud, still clinging to Raiking's clothes. "If that's true, and I'm your disciple... can't you choose me over her?"
The words escaped before she could reel them back, hanging in the air like a poison dart. Horror washed over her face—What did I just say?
The Keeper of Time and Fate didn't flinch, her expression softening with understanding rather than offense. "Raiking does know me... and does not," she said cryptically.
Ezmelral, her grip still tight on Raiking's clothes, frowned through her tears. "How... how can that be?"
"You'll find out," the Keeper replied, her eyes holding a glimmer of foresight, "if Raiking is willing to continue the memory." She turned to him then, her voice gentle but probing. "How many times has it been, Raiking? Reliving these moments... never willing to cross this threshold?"
Raiking remained silent, his stare fixed on the girl in the bed, the weight of eons pressing on him like an invisible chain.
The Keeper answered for him, her tone laced with quiet sorrow. "The exact number: 117,666 times."
When Ezmelral heard the staggering figure, her hands slackened, releasing Raiking's clothes as if burned. She stepped back, eyes wide with dawning realization. He... he wants to change the future too. More than anyone. But something—someone—stops him. The truth hit her like a wave, leaving her breathless amid the humming machines and the Keeper's knowing gaze.
"The GodKing is here." The Keeper's voice rang like a bell tolling the hour of fate. It was not a statement, but a summons—an unspoken command to step forward, to cross the threshold Raiking had sworn never to tread again.
Ezmelral felt the air shift, thick with unseen gravity, her pulse quickening. The Keeper's words gnawed at her, the promise of truth dangling just out of reach. Curiosity burned hotter than fear—more ravenous than caution. She needed to see.
Raiking's jaw tightened, crimson eyes flaring with a storm he kept buried. He knew what lay ahead: only death, only ruin. Yet the Keeper's intent was clear—her method a cruel ploy to drive him onward, to force open the scar he had long sealed shut.
And now, with Ezmelral at his side, the choice was no longer his alone.