Alarms erupt across Heaven simultaneously.
Sacred temples flicker. Prayer streams fracture mid-flow. Divine energy circulation destabilizes as if the system itself is bleeding. The Gods panic—Divine Anchors are collapsing, structures believed to be eternal. For the first time, the word impossible is spoken aloud in the Heavenly Court.
The God of Chains understands the truth immediately. Eternity only exists until someone learns the rules beneath it.
Far from the court, Raiyen stands alone on a floating island—the Anchor of Continuance, the core structure responsible for divine regeneration, energy recycling, and the conversion of mortal prayers into power. There are no guards. No traps. No resistance. Raiyen recognizes it instantly: absolute confidence—the Gods' favorite weakness.
This time, he does not ignite his Soul Flame.
Instead, he leaves the Godslayer Sigil in a passive state. Through it, the anchor's internal pattern reveals itself—not as power, but as dependency. Raiyen speaks calmly, almost thoughtfully. The Gods take power, but they never understand it.
He draws a single drop of his cursed blood and places it upon the anchor's core.
There is no explosion.
No destruction.
Only decay.
The Anchor of Continuance begins to rot from within, silently unraveling. Heaven erupts into chaos. Divine regeneration rates collapse. Lower gods lose nearly half their power instantly. No one understands the method—until the God of Chains names it.
Raiyen is not attacking Heaven.
He is starving it.
The realization spreads like poison. This is not the work of a Godkiller chasing revenge—but a war architect dismantling supply chains. Strategy replaces panic. Fear replaces arrogance.
Then, the first consequence manifests.
A lower deity—the God of Mercy—begins to destabilize. His existence was dependent on the anchors. With the system already decaying, his divine form fractures without warning. He screams—not in battle, but in confusion.
He never even faced Raiyen.
His existence fades completely.
No fight.
No execution.
Only consequence.
Raiyen senses the fall from afar. He notes it calmly—his hands remain clean. The method is perfect.
From the shadows, the observers react. Veyra admits the truth aloud—this is worse than slaughter. Raiyen is teaching Heaven fear. Korrin agrees; the Gods no longer control the war. They are merely reacting to it. Both understand that this stage cannot be undone.
Deep within Heaven's most ancient chamber, the light sharpens.
The God of Light finally speaks.
Only one sentence.
Chains will not hold him.
The God of Chains freezes as the implication sinks in. The God of Light continues—this war is no longer about victory.
It is about survival.
At the ruins of a broken anchor, Raiyen stands beneath a darkening sky. Reality trembles faintly around him. He looks upward and makes his declaration—not with anger, but certainty.
He did not come to burn Heaven.
He came to starve it.
The Godslayer Sigil glows brighter.
Somewhere above, Heaven shakes once more.