"Who can stop me?" the GodKing declared, his voice booming through L'uminix like a challenge hurled at the heavens, his armored frame radiating power that warped the very air around him.
Ezmelral's lookalike—now a fierce young woman honed by years of training—instinctively reached for her hilt, but the GodKing raised a hand. A single gesture: firm, protective, final.
Ta'Narsha, the Keeper of Balance, met his gaze unflinching. Ten arms folded across her form in quiet defiance, her presence a steady axis in the storm. "No one can stop you, GodKing," she said evenly, though her tone carried a maternal edge. "But hear me—not as the Keeper of Balance, but as Ta'Narsha. Keep baiting the Cosmic Will, and one day it may answer in ways you will not like."
The GodKing stared back, visor reflecting her like a mirror of his own past scars. Had it been anyone else, their words would have been met with violence. But Ta'Narsha… she was one of the few who had shielded him in his youth, when the cosmos itself branded him a threat. He let her words hang, unanswered, and turned as though to leave.
Then the chamber rippled. A seam of reality split open, and the Keeper of Time and Fate stepped through, her robes flowing like liquid starlight. "I have a solution."
All eyes fixed on her. From her sleeve, she produced a small, pulsing Seed—its dark surface writhing with shadow.
Ezmelral's breath caught. "Is that—?"
Raiking's jaw tightened. "A Seed of Corruption."
The Keeper of Balance arched a brow. "And your proposal?"
"A Tournament," said the Keeper of Time and Fate, her voice like the toll of an eternal clock. "Three years from now. Youth from across every world with Cosmic Awareness. The victor may claim one wish—so long as it breaks no Cosmic Law."
The implication hit like thunder. A proxy war. A chance for the young to settle what their elders could not.
She stepped closer, her gaze settling on the GodKing. "If your disciple wins, L'uminix will govern itself—under the individual Seed of Corruption system."
From the veil, Ezmelral frowned. "Why?"
Raiking's crimson eyes remained fixed on the scene, his tone low and measured. "The Collective Seed of Corruption has a fatal flaw: it only judges a species' fate after a corrupt ruler or belief system has already poisoned the masses, steering them toward ruin. That process can span thousands—even millions—of years."
Ezmelral's mind whirred, piecing together the implications, but she needed clarity. "What makes the individual Seed the solution?"
Raiking's gaze remained steady. "The individual Seed is far more insidious. If ninety percent of any group—travelers, a town, a city—allows their Seeds to grow unchecked, they transform into abominations... much like the Praexers on your world."
She mulled it over, her thoughts aligning like stars in a constellation. To confirm, she posed one final question: "Is the individual Seed... faster than the collective?"
"Yes," Raiking confirmed, his voice a quiet affirmation.
That sealed it—her theory crystallized. "A shorter eyesore versus an eternal one," she said, excitement building in her tone. "The individual system offers at least a sliver of hope—if they root out the corruption in time."
Raiking's faint smile held a glint of approval. "Three birds, one stone."
She nodded, the full picture snapping into focus. "At face value, the Keeper of Time and Fate seems to be favoring her disciple, the GodKing. But in reality, this option works best for all three. First, the GodKing's disciple gets a fighting chance to give her birth planet a second life. Second, the individual Seed of Corruption has a much higher chance of failure—and at a quicker pace—so even if L'uminix is resurrected, it won't last long, naturally restoring Cosmic Balance. Third, if L'uminix overcomes the tribulation, it means the Cosmic Will allowed it—which would feel like another victory for the GodKing in his cold war against fate itself."
In that moment of putting the pieces together, for the first time, Ezmelral truly grasped the Master's genius——beyond the GodKing's gratitude, she was the only one who could temper his boundless ego, guiding him with wisdom that transcended raw power. It made her worthy of the role, despite the chasm in strength, a subtle art of balance in itself.
The GodKing finally nodded. "I agree. My disciple will fight."
"I agree as well," said Ta'Narsha, crossing two arms. "Shona will represent me."
The Keeper of Time and Fate inclined her head, her robes shimmering like threads of destiny. "So be it."
Ezmelral felt Raiking's hand press her shoulder, pulling them forward through time once more. The leap landed them high above the Garden of Eden, one year later. Below, the GodKing and the lookalike clashed—steel and Essence colliding in a storm of speed and precision.
She slashed downward, blade howling like a falling star. He vanished in a ripple, reappearing just out of reach. She blinked forward, reappearing right in his face with another strike. Again, he slipped away. Again, she pursued. The battlefield blurred into a dance of motion and afterimages, each exchange rattling the garden's stillness.
At last, she thrust her palm forward, Air Essence erupting in a gale. The GodKing met it with his bare hand. Their clash detonated a shockwave that twisted the petals from the Sacred Tree into a storm.
"You're faster," the GodKing observed, locked against her.
"Not fast enough," she gritted back, pressing harder.
He added a sliver of strength and sent her sliding backward, feet tearing grooves into the earth. She caught herself on a surge of wind and darted in again.
From the veil, Ezmelral's voice trembled. "She's still just a mortal. He's half-Entity—Commander of the GodKing's armies. Can she really stand against him?"
Raiking's eyes never left the fight. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On who is faster."
Ezmelral's mind flashed with the knowledge she'd studied. Lightning formations—unstoppable once built, but slow to prepare. Speed was the only answer. Outpace the storm, and strike before the thunder fell.
She glanced down again. What she saw was less a fight than a ballet of velocity—vanish, reappear, clash, repeat—every movement a wager on who would blink too late.
"I see…" she whispered, realization dawning like dawn breaking across the battlefield.
---
Ezmelral felt Raiking's hand tighten on her shoulder, the familiar surge dragging them forward through time—eleven months swallowed in a heartbeat.
When the haze lifted, they hovered in a dim chamber thick with incense, the air vibrating faintly with meditative hums. At its center sat the lookalike, cross-legged, her eyes closed, the crimson mark on her brow glowing faintly like a banked ember. Her midnight hair was bound in a tight traditional knot, discipline carved into every line of her posture.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door—steady, purposeful. Her eyes snapped open. Rising in one fluid motion, she slipped to the entrance and pulled it open with a soft creak.
In the corridor stood her grandmaster, the Keeper of Time and Fate, walking beside the Keeper of Balance, Ta'Narsha. Shona trailed close behind, five arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable. When his gaze found hers, he tilted his chin ever so slightly—a silent signal to follow.
She hesitated, bowing with confusion, but the Keeper of Time and Fate's calm voice left no room for doubt.
"Come."
"Yes, Grandmaster," she answered, falling into step.
They phased through the stone into the inner sanctum, Ezmelral and Raiking shadowing them unseen.
The GodKing loomed within, a colossus of star-forged armor, his presence filling the chamber like a second gravity. Overhead, constellations shifted faintly, reacting to the gathering of powers.
"The next Flood Mission," Ta'Narsha said, her ten arms unfurling to gesture at the planets projected in holographic shimmer. "The scales tip faster than expected. Who will we send?"
The GodKing's helm turned, voice rumbling like restrained thunder. "Someone swift. The imbalance festers quickly."
From the threshold, the lookalike stepped forward. Her voice carried across the chamber with a clarity that stilled the air:
"I will go."
All eyes turned.
The GodKing tilted his head slightly. "You?"
She nodded once, steady and unflinching. "I am ready. Let me prove myself, Master."
A rare flicker of warmth softened Ta'Narsha's face, while Shona's lips curved in the faintest smile. The Keeper of Time and Fate's expression was unreadable, her eyes distant, calculating, as if the constellations above shifted at her silent command.
For a moment, the silence brimmed with promise—resolve acknowledged, destiny embraced.
From the veil, Ezmelral's heart surged. The girl's conviction was blazing, unbending, so achingly like her own. For a breath, Ezmelral believed.
Then the moment cracked.
The GodKing's voice cut across the chamber, cold and absolute.
"I refuse."
No thunder, no roar—just finality, sharp as a blade sliding home. The fragile warmth in the room shattered, leaving only silence heavy as iron.