The God-King materialized above Planet Eden's capital, his unarmored form a silent sentinel overlooking the judgment he had wrought. The Red Sea below churned with the hues of retribution, the air itself vibrating with a quiet, seething fury. His crimson eyes were twin coals, absorbing the carnage without a flicker of emotion.
Before him, Eidolon stirred. With a single, vast thought, it tore a wound in the fabric of reality. A portal yawned open, its edges shimmering with the dark, oily sheen of the Void Realm.
The God-King floated inside, his cloak a ripple of living shadow. Above him, in the non-sky of that abyssal place, a giant eye slowly peeled open. The Void Emperor's gaze fell upon him—ancient, cold, and utterly devoid of feeling.
"Most Entities scurry from the Void's embrace," the Voice Emperor began, its voice a slimy mockery that seemed to coat the very air, dripping with disdain. "Yet here you are. Twice now, in the fleeting span of a mortal breath." Its eye scanned him, a deliberate, predatory appraisal. "And I see you've come alone—"
Its words were cut short as two forms materialized on the ground below: Osculi Iudæ and the Eldest Entity. Their bodies were slumped, soulless husks, all life and essence drained away.
"They killed my disciple," the God-King stated, his voice a low growl of tectonic fury.
"Oh?" The Void Emperor's reply was a slick, disinterested drawl, the single syllable stretching into a mocking hum.
"With a Void Dagger."
The silence that followed was heavier than any stone. The Void Emperor's eye narrowed, calculating the immense implication of those three words.
"I see," it resumed, its voice resuming its oily cadence. "Well, since our little... arrangement... the Void Realm has sealed itself from the Cosmic Realm's meddling. A tidy state of affairs, wouldn't you agree?"
"I know you have not broken our pact," the God-King's tone was absolute, a glacier of finality. "It is the only reason you still exist."
"Then if not for some pedestrian revenge," the Void Emperor retorted, its giant eye glinting with perverse curiosity, "why, pray tell, have you graced my domain?"
In response, Ezmelral's lookalike's coffin slowly slid through the portal from which GodKing Raiking had emerged, its crystalline surface shimmering faintly as it drifted into the Void Realm, a silent testament to the sacrifice it held.
With a single thought, Eidolon acted. The Void Emperor, which had been staring downward with its mocking gaze, was slammed to the ground with an unseen force, its massive eye prying open in shock as it locked onto the GodKing Raiking and the coffin above. It thrashed, attempting to fight back, but failed—held fast by an invisible grip that pinned it helplessly to the abyssal floor.
"GodKing!" the Void Emperor hissed, its voice a slimy snarl laced with indignation. "What is the meaning of this?"
GodKing Raiking extended his right arm outward to the side, his gaze unwavering. From Eden City below, the blood of the fallen Entities began to converge, rising like a reverse waterfall—crimson streams defying gravity as they flowed upward through the Void Portal, drawn by his will.
The blood coalesced into a small, pulsating orb, hovering before him, its surface rippling with a dark, potent energy.
In response to the Void Emperor's outrage, the Commander of the Void Realm stirred from the depths of the abyss. A colossal, winged titan emerged—Vorrath, the Devouring Apex, its black, jagged scales pulsing with molten light, seven golden eyes blazing down its chest like a predatory constellation. Its roar didn't echo; it unmade sound itself, a void-shaking force that reduced the air to silence. Even the lesser voidlings bowed, their forms trembling in reverence before their sovereign—a being reclaimed from the Void's own hunger, its twin wraith-heads orbiting like carrion moons around a dying god.
Several Eden's Roots erupted upward from the ground, their gnarled forms wrapping tightly around Vorrath's four wings and tails. The titan let out an animalistic screech of agony, its scales cracking under the restraints as they pressed with unrelenting force.
"The Peak of God-King Level..." the Void Emperor muttered, its voice trembling with a mix of awe and dread as it witnessed GodKing Raiking's strength—a power far beyond the man who had first barged into this darkness years ago, now elevated to a realm where even the Void trembled before him.
"Sacred Tree," the God-King's voice resonated through the Void. In answer, the ancient tree materialized within the abyssal expanse, its life-giving presence a stark defiance of the surrounding darkness. "Are you with me?"
The Sacred Tree did not answer with words, but with a memory.
---
A young Raiking stood before a cluster of sprouts, the Keeper of Time and Space at his side.
"Pick one," she instructed.
"Why?"
"The one you choose will govern the mortals' Planetary Scale Seeds of Corruption."
"What is a Seed of Corruption?"
"You will understand when you are older."
His crimson eyes scanned the vibrant, healthy sprouts. His gaze fell upon the one that was different—frail, muted, an outcast. He saw himself in its struggle; both were beings whose very existence defied the natural order, marked for death by their own kind.
He pointed. "This one."
The Keeper arched a brow. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"Pour your blood into it."
Without hesitation, he drew a knife, slit his finger, and let his crimson life fall upon the withering sprout.
From that day, the sprout became his silent confidant. He nurtured it with his blood and his stories, and it grew into the mighty Sacred Tree, a testament to their bond.
Years later, a new light entered his life—his disciple. She, too, found solace in the Tree's branches. One day, her voice was shy but determined:
"What type of woman does the God-King like?"
The Tree swayed gently. "The strongest Entity requires an equal—not in power, but in the fortitude to share his burdens."
"I see," she murmured, her resolve hardening. A root shot from the ground; she laughed and dodged, their training a dance of trust and growth.
---
The memory faded. Back in the oppressive silence of the Void, the Sacred Tree's response was simple and profound.
"I am with you."
For the first time since his disciple's death, a genuine smile—small, warm, and fleeting—touched the God-King's lips. "Thank you, my oldest friend."
"No," the Tree replied, its voice a rustle of timeless gratitude. "I should be the one to thank you, brother."
With a heart steeled by this unbreakable bond, the God-King raised his voice. An incantation rolled forth, its power vibrating through the very foundations of the Void Realm:
"God-King Bloodline—Eternal Sacred Tree of the Divine Realm."