Ungar sighed: "You're going to hate this but we have to go, we'll be back as soon as possible." Lin-Lin nodded, "Come on dad, you know I'm used to that at this point." Ungar was gone, and shortly after a giant cosmic light like a sword flew into the sky like a pillar extending to the heavens of the Cosmic Ocean the flying sea creatures looked at it in awe. Narcis, Lupus, Hermes and the others stared in shock. The pillar of light that marked Ungar's departure had not yet faded when silence fell like a veil.
The flying leviathans—those massive sea-creatures with wings of coral and eyes like galaxies—circled the column of divine light in reverence. Some sang in subsonic hymns. Others bowed in the air. Even beasts of the Deep knew: a Primordial had moved. The light dimmed, finally fading into a shimmer—like a memory etched into the sea. On the Sea Turtle's shell, Hermes lowered her gaze. "So it's really happening…" Her voice was soft, but it carried across the wind, like a string plucked from the threads of fate itself. Lupus, arms crossed, clicked his tongue. "You saw that, right? He left just when we're at our most vulnerable." Narcis, ever the proud one, frowned. "Don't talk like that, wolf-boy. He didn't run. That wasn't a retreat—it was a calling." Lupus scoffed but said nothing. Behind them, Jellal and Ananda exchanged glances. Kazan tightened the grip on his sword. Even the sea beneath them had grown still—as though the ocean itself waited.
Lin-Lin stood at the edge of the turtle's back, her cape fluttering slightly. She didn't look shaken—but something inside her was shifting. A strange rhythm beat in her chest. Not her heart. Something else. Something familiar. She closed her eyes. And then—she heard it. "Your father seeks to aid the noble Imam…" The voice was not her own, nor was it a voice she could place. It was feminine, old, like silk wrapped in thunder. She opened her eyes—but saw only the sea. "What… are you?" she whispered. No answer. Just the wind. "What's wrong?" said Talus. Lin-Lin held her head its nothing she said. Hermes turned around, "Something's coming." In a flash it was there it was a being that looked like a sort of alien hammerhead shark but with the body of a woman of sorts clearly it was some kind of alien. "Aren't you forgetting something?" said the creature. Everyone starred around, "Secure the timeline," it said. Hermes nodded in angst. She held out her hands and beams of light went around the tower of light that began to secure everything in its place.
Hermes raised her hands—and time obeyed. From her fingertips, ribbons of light unfurled, each one etched with glyphs older than language itself. They spiraled around the Pillar of Light, the towering sword of light still reaching from the ocean's floor to the highest sky. The air shimmered. Reality bent in reverence. Twelve glyphs rotated around Hermes' body in precise synchrony. 𒐄 シ ∷ ₪ ҂ ᓭ ภ גゐ ₭ ۞ ᘂ ₨ The glyphs separated and flew outward—each becoming a seal, a symbol that represented one of the fundamental laws of the terminal void:
Cause and Effect
Memory and Time
Dream and Identity
Matter and Void
Each glyph spun through dimensions, pressing themselves onto the very timeline of the universe—like locks placed upon destiny itself.
And then it appeared—
The Seal of Time-Space. A radiant mandala of shifting stars and dreamlight formed around the tower, its outer rings layered with infinite equations, languages long dead, and thoughts that hadn't yet been born. The ocean roared in silence. The Cosmic Pillar was now anchored—not just to the sea, but to existence itself. Then, a hush fell. The stars dimmed—not in fear, but in attention. From the farthest edge of the Dream Horizon, she stepped forward—floating above the sea as if space bent naturally to her will. Her appearance was alien, yet sublime. A shark-like head, hammer-shaped and smooth as obsidian, but her body radiated an elegant divinity—the shape of a woman adorned in robes made of stardust and folded quantum matter.
Her voice was like light hitting velvet:"You did well, Hermes." Everyone turned—some with awe, others with caution. Talus blinked. "Who… is that?" The being raised her hand—not to threaten, but to command stillness. "I am known by many names. But to your people, I am simply… God." A wave of silence and understanding washed over the group. "I am the first Watcher. And the one who leads them." Her gaze swept over the Sea Turtle's assembly. "The other Watchers have chosen to return… to a realm none of us have visited before. But I have elected to remain." Hermes stepped forward, cautious but steady. "Why?" The being—God Herself—tilted her head. "To see you ascend. To help, yes… but before I do, I must test something." The air tightened. "Your strength. Your heart." Hermes didn't hesitate. "You want to fight me?" God's smile was gentle—predatory. "Only for a moment."
No time to prepare. No time to breathe. God moved first. She vanished—and appeared within Hermes' blindspot, bringing down a clawed hand of psionic force. Hermes met it with her Spirit Blade, already infused with three glyphs. The force of their impact cracked the Sea Turtle's shell, and the ocean spiraled downward in a whirlpool of suspended time. Jellal, blinking: "They're… moving faster than light— I can't keep up with it even using advanced Qadar!" They were. God's strikes came like thunder hidden in the folds of silence, bending light around her arms. Hermes responded with layered glyph techniques: Mirror Spiral, Star-Splitter Slash, and the newly awakened Glyph of Self—a technique that allowed her to split her soul into three phantom afterimages that struck simultaneously from past, present, and future. But God parried them all. "Good," she whispered. "You remember who you are." Hermes leapt into the air, her blade now glowing with the full seal of Dream Memory. "I will protect the Gate, and the ones I love."
She dove, unleashing a Judgment Spiral—a beam of condensed thought that fragmented into seven mirror glyphs mid-strike. God caught it—with one hand. And then… she let go. The shockwave didn't hit the team—God absorbed the force with a flick of her tail, bending the aftermath around a localized gravity seam. She smiled. "That's enough." Hermes stood panting, still in battle form. God hovered just above the surface of the sea, untouched… but smiling—genuinely. "You will do. The world, for now, is safe in your hands." God turned to the others. "Prepare yourselves. The Dream Gate will open soon. When it does… you must choose: ascend into what you were meant to be… or collapse into what you fear you are. You must handle all your affairs within the next few months because you will not have much longer. The very reality of the world is about to change forever." She looked back at Hermes. "And I will be watching." Hermes didn't nod. She just met her gaze. Two divinities. One destiny.
Meanwhile back in the Guild World the Imam began to run towards a hill in the distance several others namely Doctor Amadeus and Xerxes began to run towards what he was running towards, following behind him, following his lead. "What's wrong?" said Xerxes. Before the Imam could speak Ungar and Manu appeared beside him. They eventually reache the top of the hill it was the fake Zaiyal and Zora (or Maria) stood at the top. The sky over the Guild World was pale—like parchment smudged by prophecy.
The Imam, wind flaring through his robes, reached the hilltop first. Behind him followed Doctor Amadeus, huffing but alert, Xerxes, blade drawn, and seconds later—Ungar and Manu, emerging from a collapsing glyph-gate that hissed behind them like a closing eye. At the summit, waiting in stillness, stood Zora (once called Maria), and beside her, the ever-serene Zaiyal—the faker anyways. Zora's eyes glistened—more with bitter amusement than warmth. "You came, Imam. All of you… just as we needed." Ungar's fist clenched, the Dream Core in his chest pulsing low and deep. "Zora… something's wrong with you." The Imam narrowed his eyes. "No," he said slowly. "Something's missing from her. The light." Zora's expression softened, but her tone sharpened.
"Do you know what it's like to be used by the divine? To wake up each day as a vessel, never the author?"
Her skin began to crack, not with damage, but like a shell breaking open. Black glyphs began to crawl from her fingertips up her arms, glowing with inverted color—Void Script. Suddenly, the illusion around Zaiyal collapsed. Her body burst into shadow and reformed—twisted, beautiful, cruel. Gone was the Guild's gentle prophetess. In her rose a girl with pink pig-tails and wide pink eyes with a twisted look on her face.
"Did you miss me boys. Especially your Mr. Tin Can (meaning Ungar). Everyone always missed such a sweetie pie like me."
Ungar snapped back: "I should have known it was you! You god-damned bitch you're betraying the gods of Apollonius for the Void!" Kakia laughed: "Oh silly its a little more complex than that but know this you silly-silly goose, I've been one step ahead of all of you from the very beginning." The ground shattered beneath her as her aura unfurled—an empire of hatred wrapped in elegance. Doctor Amadeus instinctively backed up. "Oh no. That's not a demon. That's a cosmic mind." Before anyone could move—light tore through the sky. And then it landed. A being with white fur, ram-like horns, and teeth far too sharp for a smile. His robe was made of gilded trade documents, old treaties, and sigils of mercantile empires long extinct.
He bowed mockingly. "Malicio," he said, "Chancellor of the Black Ledger. I serve the King of the Guild." Xerxes stepped forward, eyes burning. "Why are you here?" Malicio's voice was calm, mocking. "We have a trade alliance with the Void. We provide them access to timelines. They give us sovereignty over commerce. The Dream Gate threatens to undo that agreement." He gestured to Kakia and Zora. "So we're here to… discourage rebellion. You stand down, and the Guild's status is preserved." The Imam stepped forward, divine wind swirling around him. "You would sell the soul of existence… for profit? You are truly the worst of disbelievers, truly the worst of Creation." Malicio shrugged. "It's a very good margin."
No words. No signal. Zora moved first. She flicked her fingers, and the ground warped into a blasphemous geometry, shattering the hilltop into a floating spiral of dreamsteel shards. Her void-glyphs detonated like mines of unreality—Amadeus and Manu dodged barely in time. Kakia laughed like a lunatic: "Give us the stone! Once we have it we can stabilize the Dream World to the Void and the Guild." Their blades met with a cataclysmic clash, one that shook the timeline.
Ungar's Dream Cleaver flared white, while Kakia's scythes dripped ink of unspoken truths. Meanwhile, Malicio approached the Imam slowly, stretching his fingers, the air around him rippling with contractual bindings and monetized gravity.
"I've always wanted to see what a Divine Scholar bleeds. Is your blood red like the others?"
The Imam summoned his Qadar Seal, a glowing manuscript of layered realities. It spun around him like wings of scripture. He raised one finger, calling down a meteor of recorded memory. "Then come and pay the price." The battle continued for a good time. Amadeus approached Zora, he begged her to stop, pleading that she should stop doing this that she should him again and the others as well. She played dumb and pretended to cry but it was to no avail as soon as she could get in for the kill she tried but Xerxes stopped her at the last second, "Don't listen to her Doctor she's a demon in human form, it's not the Maria you fell in love with!" The battle continued until Xerxes was on the ground beaten and bloody she had gotten in a scuffle with Malicio. He began to stomp his foot on her chest as she cried out in pain. "That's right, grovel, grovel. Just like the worm that you are." Ungar and the Imam were furious, "Damnit, in order to stop them me and Ungar would have to go all out and it would kill everyone here." A voice was heard behind them, "You don't have to worry about it, I'll take care of it." It was Yang Xiao Xei the Ranker, a servant of the king.
The spiral of battle stopped—not because anyone relented, but because someone greater had arrived. The very air adjusted to his presence, like it knew not to misbehave. Reality's thread paused. Glyphs quivered. Even the Void recoiled—slightly. There, standing at the edge of the broken battlefield, his hands in his robe sleeves, stood a man clad in white and deep sapphire. His hair was silver, his eyes golden, and carved across his left arm was the glowing sigil of the High Gate Rankers—an order said to answer only to the King of the Guild himself. Yang Long Xei. The First Ranker. The Scribe-Eater. The Judge of Realms. He didn't walk. He appeared, like the truth becoming visible. Yang looked across the battlefield. Saw Xerxes writhing beneath Malicio's hoof. Saw the Imam, blood on his fingertips. Saw Ungar restraining his full divine weight, fearing destruction. And then, finally, he looked at the villains. His voice was measured, but rang like a divine gavel.
"Kakia, Zora, Malicio…"
He took one step forward. The air folded behind his foot. "You've desecrated the Guild's name. Sold time itself for mere coin. You've aligned with the Void and nearly collapsed a living timeline." His gaze cut through them. "I came here to observe. But now quite honestly, I'm here to judge." Malicio smiled wide, too wide. "You'd dare raise a hand against us, Yang? You work for the same King as I do." Yang's face didn't twitch. "The King entrusted me to maintain balance. You serve profit. I serve Order and Peace through commerce." Kakia spun two of her scythes and smirked. "I always liked you. Pity." Malicio growled, a sharp whine in his throat. "You're a god-damned traitor to the Crown." That… got a reaction. Yang's golden eyes flared with holy fury. Glyphs burned around his wrists. "Don't speak of the Crown. The labor you do for it is simply wasted on such a noble institution. So I insist that you shut your mouth. I'm only going to warn you once, leave."
Malicio roared and leapt, spinning his ledger-ribbons and contract talons, trying to bind Yang in infinite clauses of dimensional debt. Yang raised one finger. "Fuck you! I reject your premise." The scrolls ignited. With a flick of his wrist, Yang shattered the contractual web and drove two fingers into Malicio's chest, sending him flying through three floating glyph-structures with a boom that bent the hilltop's space itself. Zora screamed, unleashing blasphemous glyphs of unmaking, while Kakia danced around Yang with six blades, each forged from malice incarnate. Yang didn't dodge. He walked through it. It was as if he defied matter. Zora: "What kind of freak are you?!" Yang: "I am what happens when judgment stops whispering and starts speaking." Suddenly, Yang's aura condensed. From behind his back, he drew a quill-blade—a sword shaped like a calligraphy brush dipped in starlight. He moved once—a horizontal slash across space. Time skipped. Zora and Kakia stopped mid-air, stunned. Their attacks hung frozen in orbit. Behind Yang, an X-shaped sigil burned into the sky.
Malicio, bruised and snarling, reappeared. He was bleeding silver. His fur matted. His trade-robes burned to shreds. He roared, "You've betrayed everything we built!" Yang stared at him, calm as a mirror. "You built a machine on the bones of the innocent. I built law from the stars." Malicio lunged— Yang appeared behind him. Silence. Then Malicio coughed, fell to one knee, and crumpled—alive, but broken. Blood pooled. His aura flickered. Zora and Kakia stared at Yang, furious. But he had already turned his back. "Try it again, and I'll erase you from this story's ink. No one will even remember you existed. I can do that."
He looked at the others. To Xerxes, still clutching her ribs. To Ungar, who now stepped back in awe. To the Imam, whose eyes shimmered with recognition. Yang spoke softly. "Finish your war, Dreamwalkers. The Guild may yet redeem itself. But if it doesn't…" He turned his golden eyes toward the sky. "Then I will rewrite the heavens myself. With or without you. So don't test my patience." Malicio spat out blood, "It's over…for now we're out of time the Dream World has stabilized. If I ate the Dream Stone we would acquire no advantage. We must wait." Kakia shrugged: "We have to go already, well rats, see you next time sweeties." Malicio and Kakia walked through the gate and Zora looked behind her directly at the doctor, "If you love the girl who I reside in, you would have struck me down doctor." And after that she entered the gate and its iron bars closed and it disappeared into nothingness. Yang ran over to Xerxes; she needed to go to the Guild Tower's hospital immediately. As the smoke cleared and the corrupted gate shimmered shut behind Malicio, Kakia, and Zora and the remnants of what it left behind eventually closed, a heavy quiet fell over the field—the kind of quiet that only comes after reality has been bent and bent again and still hasn't broken. Yang Long Xei caught Xerxes as she began to collapse. Her breathing was shallow, her body still wracked with the brutal trauma of Malicio's earlier assault.
"Get her to Guild Tower—Level 7," Yang commanded the nearby medics. "Use dimensional thread compression. She's cracked atleast four ribs."
Doctor Amadeus, face pale, nodded and followed close behind. As he passed where Zora had last stood, he paused, staring into the void that was no longer there. "Maria… if any part of you is still in there, I'll bring you back." Ungar stood at the edge of a collapsed glyph circle, staring out into the golden sea of residual battle energy. His Cleaver had cooled, humming softly against his back. He turned to leave—but the Imam stepped up beside him. "I will go with you," the Imam said. "Wherever you go next… I believe my path leads there as well." Manu stretched his shark-shoulders and grinned. "You two, turban head and iron dome you're just a couple of kelpies, you'd be fish food without me around. AHAHAHA!"
Ungar simply nodded. Together, the three of them opened a fold in the Dream, a soft shimmer like parting silk. "We go," Ungar said, "to Umi. To reunite with Hermes." In the layered realm of Umi, where the skies shimmered like watercolor and the sea spoke in dreams, the group stood reunited once more. Lin-Lin sprinted to her father, hugging him tight. "You took forever." Ungar—silent and stoic—placed a hand on her shoulder. God hovered silently above the waves, arms folded. Watching. Son Ogong, Event Horizon, and the other gods stood nearby, pensive. "We will stay," said Ogong. "There are loose gates here, and I've got a score to settle with a few Nightmare Kings." God floated forward. "But I will go. Hermes will need me. And there is… something I wish to see." "The road beyond Helios," she whispered, almost to herself.
As the groups split, Lupus stepped forward. "I've made my decision," he declared to the team. "I will return to my Empire. To reclaim the throne stolen from my father. And after that…" He clenched his fist, stars flickering in his eyes. "…I will rule this galaxy and eventually this universe. All of it. Hehehe." Everyone was silent for a moment. Then: "Not if I conquer it first," Jellal muttered with a smirk. "So I'll go my own way. I'm returning to the Demon World. There are techniques I left unfinished. My trial's not over yet. And when I do I will conquer this world and lay you low wolf." Lupus raised a brow. "I'd like to see you try."
The two anti-heroes nodded. Jellal opened a portal of fire to the Demon or the Underworld and opened it; the portal disappeared after he entered it. As Lupus turned to leave, a sudden rush of motion from behind—Hermes darted forward and threw her arms around him from behind. "Wha—!?" His eyes widened. Everyone stared. Hermes whispered: "Don't die out there, dumbass. And if you do… I'll resurrect you just to yell at you. And don't say another word, we're coming with you if we have to serve you as minions of your empire so be it. I won't play good-guy anymore, you're family just like Ungar and Talus, Uncle Lupus." Lupus tried to scoff, tried to speak—but his mouth just twitched into something dangerously close to a smile. After an incredibly long pause Lupus finally spoke "…Fine," he muttered. "You can come." She let go, smirking. "That's all I needed to hear." Lupus, Crown Prince of the Fallen Empire. Hermes, Glyph-Bearer and Dream Architect. Ungar, Cosmic Sentinel. Lin-Lin, Dreamdaughter and Ascendant Mage. Narcis, Martreya Buddha and Blade of the Hidden Gods. Talus, member of the Mozaku (Demon Tribe). God, the Watcher of Threads and the others. This team would go to Helios, their home world and then a few of them would go to reclaim Lupus' empire. But one voice rose in protest. Some others like Kanji and God would follow them. "Father, take me with you!" cried Kazan, eyes fierce. Lupus turned, visibly pained. But his voice was firm. "No." Kazan flinched. "You're not ready. The throne was taken by monsters. I won't risk you. Not yet." Her fists clenched—but she didn't argue. She nodded. "…Then I'll train. And when you need me, I'll be stronger than all of them." They said goodbye to all the friends they made, the younger Ebisu, Yadala and Mamara, the Gods and others farewell. Kanji had thought it weird that the Jinn and their noblemen and women had not appeared in some time.
Our heroes finally returned to Planet Helios quickly with the help of God closing that area of the past for good. God noted: "You will have to go to Umi in the present many more times Prophet (meaning Hermes) for many of the artifacts to destroy the void, "the Weapons of the Gate-Keepers or the Seals," are located in that world. Hermes nodded. They all entered Nova's Compound. Nova, the resident scientist, adjusted his visor. He waved a finger and summoned the schematics of a multi-realm traversal ship. "It'll be ready (meaning the ship) in three days," he announced. "We'll hit the edge of the solar cluster G-77 in a day and a half. But when we do, we won't be alone. The warlord who stole your empire is currently on Alpha-10, a planet two light-years and so will many of your former colleagues." Lupus smiled: "Finally I can kill each of those traitors myself… slow." The Imam replied to Nova: "I'm sensing a great evil in that direction of space so I must ask who is this warlord that ousted Lupus from his throne. Nova continued to type on his computer: "Apparently, it's someone that goes by, wow what a bizarre name must not be from birth,... the Coyote Wolf…" Sir Rhyme for his part clenched his teeth in shock and ran over to the computer, "No, it can't be." The Imam replied with great interest, "Who is this being?" Sir Rhyme continued to stammer: "It can't be I thought we killed him, he should be nothing but dust." This startled Hermes: "Sir Rhyme, tell us now who this Coyote Wolf is?" Sir Rhyme replied: "He was a terrible warlock, he was a native of Lupus and Sarai's home planet, Izador. He was an Izadoran by race himself, a wolf with black fur, I know nothing of his origins or very little at least. I was friends with two warriors 'a father and his son,' who along with myself and they had long before I arrived fought him many times but every time he was killed he kept coming back. The last time he was dealt with his very essence was destroyed meaning his soul, the man and his son unleashed the finishing blow. Those two sadly have long since passed but apparently not this monster and now he's returned." Ungar said in response: "I remember those two. I think I met them briefly several times." Sir Rhyme nodded, "You never faced this monster, you could destroy him easily but the power required by you to control would probably kill billions in the process, then again it's unclear how powerful this monster could have gotten. Damn him. He couldn't have just stayed dead," said Sir Rhyme. The atmosphere thickened like cooling metal.
Sir Rhyme stood before Nova's holographic screen, jaw tight, hand trembling. The name "Coyote Wolf" glared in bold, blood-red script across floating hexagonal files. His usually poetic demeanor had fractured into cold dread. "Coyote Wolf… that bastard should not exist." Nova stepped back, clearly unsettled. Even the God known as the Watcher had gone quiet, her arms folded more tightly than before. "If this is true," she said, "then death itself has failed." Hermes approached slowly, glyphs flickering around her wrists like fireflies pulled by unease. "You said… he kept coming back? Even after his soul was destroyed?" Sir Rhyme nodded. "He was dismantled. Turned into anti-energy. His memory devoured by his own dark magic turned against him. The two warriors who did it—gave everything for that. And now… They lived and went on to die of natural causes, but it was all in vain all that work to destroy him for nothing."
He turned toward the screen. A flickering satellite image showed the black silhouette of a wolf-headed figure seated on a jagged obsidian throne atop Alpha-10, surrounded by fallen palaces and dread pylons carved from bone. "He's not just alive," Sir Rhyme said. "He's thriving, he hopes to achieve his plan to conquer everything." Lupus growled: "How dare he, that's my dream!" After he shouted this Lupus didn't speak for several seconds. His hands were clenched behind his back, his wolf tail low. Not from shame—but rage barely contained. Then, with voice tight: "He called himself our teacher, once. Before the wars. Before we knew what he really was." Talus raised a brow. "A warlock… teaching?" Lin-Lin murmured, "No. Something older. The way he returns… that's no spell. That's a cosmic recursion." God nodded. "He may be a fixed point. One of those who Refuse Closure." Everyone turned to her. "What do you mean?" asked Hermes. The Watcher's voice was soft but absolute. "There are entities that cannot be resolved. Not by death. Not by judgment. They slip through the folds of causality and rebuild themselves like a virus in time. They are known by many names but the most common term they are known by is Irregulars." "Coyote Wolf," she said, "is one of them." Lupus for his part said: "He's been alive for some time I guess to answer the bear's question, but I knew nothing of his history he never talked about it. He worked for my father about 20 years before my empire was stolen and then one day he disappeared he was something of a Vizier for my father he even taught me some magic," said Lupus. The Imam nodded: "It all makes sense. Only an irregular would be capable of this kind of Qadar. But the energy is purely demonic. I would assume he found access to the demon world and one of his demonic servants from the unseen revived him into this world meaning of course his soul was never destroyed." Before the existential dread could sink in, Nelly rushed through the doors and hugged Hermes. "Look at what Hermes and I just got." They pulled the sleeves on their shirts down and on Hermes' wrist was the word Nelly written in small ink and on the other Hermes' name was on Nellys' wrist." Nova turned off the computer, "That's enough for now, look Hermes you need to unwind it won't be for three days that the space shuttle will be ready so have fun for now," said Nova. Hermes hesitated but then smiled, "Come on Nelly we should go to the mall, it's been too long." Scott, Talus why don't you two go with them. Ungar stepped in indicating he would as well. Nova said: "I insist that Hermes, Ungar, Talus and Sir Rhyme will go with Lupus. The ship I'm designing can only support five people, Sir Rhyme will be invaluable as he's faced this fiend before," said Nova.
ARC II: KING LUPUS ARRIVES ON ALPHA-10 and PALADIN 12:
Nova replied to the previous statement: "Take the ship, it's waiting in the front yard, just type in the coordinates to the mall, everything is good to go." All five of them entered the ship Talus stated, "I'll fly." The ship gleamed silver-blue, shaped like a harpoon aimed at the stars. Its interior pulsed with soft neon lines of shifting glyphs, runes embedded in the walls like veins of living code. As it shot past the stratosphere, cutting across layers of folded dimensions like butter, the hum of the engines became a soothing presence.
Talus, at the controls, chewed a carrot casually, kicking his foot up on the dashboard as he flicked the phase-drive to interstitial warp. Scott Greer sat to the right of Hermes and Nelly with arms crossed. "Hey about those tattoos, I don't think that's a very good idea." Hermes was intrigued: "Really how come?" Scott replied: "Getting tattoos isn't really highly respected or proper behavior. A man once said: 'For a man to defile his body is spiritual rebellion." Nelly snorted. "Was that man your uncle or some deranged gym teacher?" Scott's eyes narrowed. "That man was my fraternity big-brother. His name was Russell Truthbearer. He founded the Greerhead Pledge. We lived by it: no tattoos, no vaping, no non-college football, no superhero movies, no crop tops on Sundays. We wore polos, ate hard-boiled eggs for protein, and never ever missed leg day." Hermes blinked slowly, as though trying to decide if this was real. "You're… literally from a colony in a war-torn galactic empire and this is your hill to die on?" "Tattoos are permanent," Scott retorted. "Like poorly-thought-out political beliefs or naming your child after a gemstone or something else that is not keyed."
The Food Court wasn't just any ordinary mall court—it floated atop a massive hovering lotus made of translucent energy, rotating gently above the main atrium. Around it bustled beings of every shape and species—mechanoids, demi-gods, dreamy-eyed high schoolers from alternate timelines, and cursed wanderers in trench coats with coupons older than the concept of months.
But in the center of it all, sat two girls: Hermes, the glyph-wielder, the Prophet of the Dream Thread, and Nelly, wild-haired ink-witch and sketcher of the infinite.
Their table was a glowing disc made of stardust-glass, cluttered with trays from across realities:
A steaming bowl of Chrono-Ramen, with noodles that aged in reverse time.
A plate of Fire Phoenix Gyoza that screamed "OW" when bitten.
A tower of Dream-Boba Floats, topped with floating constellation bubbles.
Hermes poked her ramen with a chopstick.
"Is it... normal for food to de-age while you eat it?"
Nelly, mouth full of gyoza, grinned.
"Only on Tuesdays."
Hermes laughed—a rare, honest burst.
She leaned back, letting the energy of the moment settle.
"You know," she said, gazing up at the illusion of falling cherry blossoms conjured overhead, "We haven't had a moment like this in a while. Just the two of us."
Nelly nodded, slurping her noodles.
"Ever since we fought that nightmare moon deity, it's been non-stop."
Hermes chuckled.
"Which one? There were like… three of those."
Nelly raised her hand, counting on her fingers.
"Right—the one with the screaming eyes, the one that was a baby for some reason, and the one that kept reciting bad poetry."
"The poetry one was the worst," Hermes said flatly. "It rhymed 'obliteration' with 'gentrification.'"
They both burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the food court.
Hermes and Nelly trying on battle dresses enchanted with elemental resistance, only for Nelly's to start floating uncontrollably due to an anti-gravity charm gone wrong. The two of them dueling with souvenir foam swords, reenacting one of their old fights as kids, giggling and yelling out exaggerated attacks. Nelly secretly drawing Hermes mid-laugh, capturing her older friend not as a Prophet—but as a girl who could still smile, wide and unburdened. Sharing a Cursed Sundae that randomly changes flavor every time it's mentioned. "This tastes like burnt marshmallows."
"Now it tastes like… regret."
Hermes stared at Nelly for a moment—really looked. "You've grown up a lot, you know that? Nelly blinked, taken off-guard. "Me? You're the one glowing with ancient glyphs and getting flirted with by primordial Watchers." Hermes blushed slightly. "Shut up." "No seriously," Nelly grinned. "Back when we were in training together, you were all 'I'm not ready, I'm just a student.' Now look at you. Commander of a multiversal task force, basically a demigoddess." Hermes smiled, soft and a little sad.
"Yeah. But I miss… us. The times when we could talk about dumb stuff. Eat weird mall food. Laugh." Nelly raised her soda. "To dumb stuff. May we always find time for it." Hermes raised hers in return. "To friendship." Hermes
After Hermes and Nelly and the others walked outside she declared, "I want to show you all something I think I can do now. I've been trying to do it for a while but I think I can do it now that I've synced with the Spirit Blade." Nelly replied: "What is it Hermes?" Hermes replied: "Just watch." Hermes began to concentrate and the wind began to rustle around her and then it began to pick under her feet eventually a cloud formed and Hermes jumped on it. She began to soar through the clouds like the Taoist monks of old and Sun Wukong as well. She (meaning Hermes) had learned the art of cloud surfing. Hermes zooming past koi clouds, grinning wide as she shifts weight to bank turns.
She sweeps across the mall's curved spires, leaving behind a trail of rainbow vapor.
She loops into a spiral, blade drawn as she slices through a mock storm conjured by the system's weather grid.
The sun flares behind her silhouette—a Prophet turned sky-dancer.
Back on the ground: "No freaking way…" Talus muttered, mouth open. "She's flying like—like Sun Wukong!" Ungar nodded slowly, arms crossed. "No. She's flying like Hermes. The real her." Nelly's eyes sparkled as she smiled. "I always knew she'd do something this cool." Hermes shouted over the wind: "I call it—Cloudstep Ascension! It's a combination of ancient Taoist glyph flight, Wukong's movement scrolls… and my own Spirit Seal!" She banked again, creating a cyclone swirl and writing her name in the clouds. "This isn't just movement—it's pure freedom! It's as pure as the blue sky! This is what it means to ride your own path!" A ripple of divine energy surged from her, and for just a second, the glyphs in the sky aligned, forming the kanji for: 夢 — Dream.
She dove downward in a spiral, flipping gracefully before landing on the edge of the platform in front of her friends—her cloud dissolving gently beneath her feet. The others stood in stunned silence for a beat… then burst into applause and cheers. "Holy hell," said Scott, eyes wide. "That breaks every Greerhead pledge I've ever written—and even still, I love it." "Hermes…" Nelly whispered, eyes full of pride. "You're flying without wings." Hermes grinned, tucking a lock of wind-blown hair behind her ear. "We're going to need that kind of movement for what's coming next." A lone figure with a cracked porcelain fox mask floated on a broken comet. Watching. Recording. "Cloudstep Ascension..." The masked agent vanished.
Meanwhile back in the Compound Lupus and his daughter Kazan were approached by Lupus' human wife Ashley and his son Junior. Ashley began to flirt with Lupus. "Lupus I heard you are leaving in three days so why don't we have a romantic night together, come on it's been over a year." The son ignored it, "Hello father mother has told me much about you, I must say your description fits expectations." Lupus was proud: "I can tell you're already powerful, of course any son of mine with my royal blood pumping through their veins. It's no wonder you're this strong." The boy hugged his father. But Ashley butted in, "Come on Lupus." Lupus said back: "Fine for one day and one night, and then the next two days are for me to train." Ashley laughed: "One day is all I'll need." Kazan their daughter rolled her eyes: "Here we go again."
The stars outside had begun their quiet turn above the glass-domed war room, where God hovered inches above the polished floor. With arms crossed and wings of ethereal glyphs fluttering behind her, her golden eyes scanned a holographic map of Umi's fractured temporal nodes. The others stood in various postures—Talus leaning on the railing, Hermes sitting on a bench, Lin-Lin with her fingers glowing faintly as she toyed with a floating mini-constellation.
Nova was busy typing furiously into a glowing slate. But it was God who broke the silence. "I've located a lead," she said calmly, yet with a tone that sharpened the room's attention. "It's unconventional… but potentially invaluable." Everyone turned. "A new MMORPG was released in this galaxy quadrant," God continued. "Paladin 12. It was designed by a interplanetary and multiversal dev team. Anonymous. Its core content centers around ancient relics, the worship of gods and idols, fallen dimensions… and most intriguingly: a system of seals known only to the Watchers." Hermes narrowed her eyes. "You're saying someone put our secrets… into a video game?"
"Not the artifacts themselves," God clarified. "But information about them. Clues. Coordinates. Possibly even blueprints. It was hidden within high-level raids, secret boss fights, and lore fragments. This data was not procedurally generated. Someone embedded it—on purpose." Zaiyal raised an eyebrow. "So what… we log in, slay some pixelated dragons, and hope for divine breadcrumbs?" God was slightly annoyed. "You jest. But this is not an ordinary game. The neural dive tech is deeply immersive—bordering on hyper-real. Mind and soul could be at risk. Whoever placed that data inside knew we'd find it." Lin-Lin stood up. "Then I'm in. Someone wanted us to see this. I want to know who—and why." "Same,"said Sarai. "If this really leads to one of the Gatekeeper weapons [the Artifacts]… we can't ignore it." Nova typed again, pulling up a massive floating HUD. "The game's server uses quantum shard encryption. But I've got access to the beta servers. I can get five of you in. Full dive. Full sensory simulation. You'll wake up where the in-game 'Worldfall' arc begins." "Perfect," said God. "Then I'll choose who goes."
[Team Entering Paladin 12]:
Xerxes – Primary Investigator, Glyph-Bearer, blade techniques may convert to spell-form inside the game engine.
Narcis– White mage, powerful mana.
Zaiyal – Unpredictable wild card, unknown Dream resonance patterns—ideal for anomaly detection.
Qayyim – Tank class transferability; ability to handle lapses in time.
"Your objective is to reach the Temple of Resonant Flame," God instructed. "It's buried in the level-90 dungeon arc called The Rift Choir. But be warned. PvP and corrupt AI bosses will try to stop you. This won't be just code—it will be a trial of memory, emotion, and trust."
As this plan was forming, Lupus had already been dragged off by Ashley. She grinned, wine in one hand, lace wrapping her limbs like ivy. "I know you're planning a revolution, sweetie. But tonight… you're mine." In the candlelit suite, Junior meditated, hovering midair while Kazan practiced with her dual sabers in the adjacent training room. Despite the softness of music and light, the tension of war loomed on all their shoulders. Ashley took Lupus into their bedroom, and I'm sure you can guess what happened next. Meanwhile, Talus decided to take the ship back following the others. Hermes was surfing on the cloud with her BFF Nelly holding onto her back, standing on the cloud. Ungar and Scott Greer flew through the air without clouds like birds beside them. "Ready guys! Let's go!"
Nova insisted to God, Ungar has to return to the Guild World when he returns to get Xerxes. The Imam nodded, "I'll go back for now too, I understand there isn't enough room on the ship so I can't go with Ungar who I honestly believe to be one of the keys to stopping the Void. I'll continue to train there until Lupus and the others return from Alpha-10." God nodded. As Ungar, Scott Greer, Talus, Hermes, and Nelly disembarked onto the main deck of the Celestial Bridge, the atmosphere shifted. God stood at the center of the hall, radiating more like an architect than a deity. Lines of light danced behind Him like code reconfiguring reality. "You've returned just in time," God said, voice deep and resonant. "The simulation is ready." Hermes hopped off her cloud, landing beside Nelly. "Simulation? Like… a game?" "Not just a game," Nova interjected from the raised command terminal. "Paladin 12. MMO, closed-beta, barely known outside dark forums. Full neural dive. The devs? No one's been able to track them. It just appeared." God's eyes narrowed. "And yet, within this synthetic world lies knowledge that predates even Me. The architects buried information inside—the kind that leads to the Artifacts. The kind that shouldn't exist in code." Scott folded his arms. "So... some coder stashed ancient cosmic weapon secrets inside a video game?" "Not some coder," said God. "Someone who knew the prophecies of the age of Dreams. And they hid the clues where no one would question them. Among pixels. Among fantasy."
Talus looked over to Xerxes, who now stood quietly beside the others. The light from the HUD reflected in her eyes. He hadn't said a word since come to this world with Ungar. God continued. "The group is set. Xerxes, you'll lead. Your blade techniques may not translate perfectly, but the Glyph Engine will adapt. Zaiyal, your Dream resonance makes you unpredictable—which is exactly what we need. Qayyim… the dungeon's time folds will collapse most minds. But yours can endure. Narcis—your mana capacity will allow healing and decoding encrypted lore fragments." Nova zoomed into the world map on the HUD. A fiery continent appeared—fractured by glowing fault lines, castles built atop lava flows, broken towers floating in the sky. "You'll enter here—Worldfall, where the last war in-game began. Your destination: the Temple of Resonant Flame. Somewhere inside, beneath the boss mechanics and endgame loot, is a vault of real-world data."
God turned to the others. "Anyone else would get lost. But you four? You're tuned to survive the crossover." Narcis Martreya held up a single finger, shimmering with pre-sync resonance. "Then let's sync." Xerxes cracked her knuckles. "Guess we're going dungeon crawling." "PvP's active," Nova warned. "Expect rogue players. But the real threat? Corrupt AI. Some of the bosses evolved beyond their design. They've been feeding off player memory—rebuilding themselves with emotion and fear." Zaiyal smirked. "So they feel what they kill. I like it." "Just be careful," Talus said. "If your minds fracture inside, you might not come back."
Nova pointed to the dive pads forming from the ground. "Get in. Full sensory sync in 30 seconds. I've rewritten your loadouts based on your real-world traits. You won't be just players. You'll be catalysts." Hermes saluted from her cloud. "Good luck, guys. Slay something epic." Xerxes smiled back at her devilishly, "Don't forget you need to get stronger Hermes, we still need to have our battle." Hermes gave a peace sign in return and closed her eyes with a smile. Ungar turned toward God. "You said I have to return to Guild World?"
"Yes," God said. "Xerxes will need you when she returns. Nova can't keep the portal open long. Once she's out of Paladin 12, you'll need to move quickly. And get her back. As many warriors as possible need to be in the Guild World for its currently the closest point of entry to the Dream World, if the Dream World falls into chaos everything at that point is theoretical." Scott slapped Ungar on the back. "Keep your head down, tin-man. Or don't. You've got real spunk."
As the four chosen ones stepped onto the pads, the chamber dimmed. Their bodies stiffened as the neural dive engaged—code flooding through them like starlight through veins. Then: INITIATING FULL IMMERSION – PALADIN 12 ONLINE Four lights blinked out. And in their place, inside the burning world of Worldfall, the mission began. WORLDFALL – ENTRY SEQUENCE // PALADIN 12 ONLINE As the last layer of code crystallized around their minds, the four avatars blinked into existence—not as digital projections, but as incarnations. Paladin 12 didn't render its world. It rebuilt it from memory. The team materialized on a jagged dark gray cliff overlooking a shattered battlefield. Magma pulsed in the cracks of the land like veins, casting a blood-orange glow against the storm-dark sky. In the far distance, black towers twisted skyward, defying architecture, some floating midair—anchored only by massive, rune-bound chains.
A crescent moon of fractured glass hung in the sky, orbiting too fast, splintering light into shimmering auroras that flickered with whispers—half-sentences, maybe lore fragments… or memories. This was Worldfall—once the capital of the in-game empire, now a burning continent torn open by war, betrayal, and time anomalies. The air was hot but breathable. The sensation was fully real—down to the weight of weapons, heartbeat patterns, and even the simulated scent of burnt iron. This wasn't VR. This was an alternate world. Every breath. Every blink. Felt real.
"Pull up your HUDs," Xerxes said instinctively. Each of them made the gesture with their fingers—two fingers, swipe down diagonally—and the interface snapped into view with satisfying responsiveness. But this wasn't a normal MMO menu. This was… alive. Narcis's HUD appeared in pale lavender runes, scrolling with real-time mana flux. His skill tree pulsed like a living vein map, branching into "Eidolon Channels," "Soul Stitching," and "Divine Logic Decryption." A glowing glyph hovered beside her portrait—a pulse beacon detecting lore anomalies in the area. Zaiyal's UI was chaotic. Buttons reconfigured mid-float. His "Dreamstate Meter" fluctuated wildly. One tab read "Possibility Infinite" with a glitchy animation of her warping between character models—half-joke, half-horror. Under the Anomaly Detection module, the words "WELCOME BACK" blinked and disappeared before she could react. Qayyim's interface was solid, anchored. Bronze and iron tones. Her abilities were categorized by "Endurance Threshold," "Chrono-Anchor," and "Sentinel Break." One unique mechanic lit up on entry: Temporal Lag Buffer (TLB), allowing her to store time in combat and release it in devastating bursts. She could literally pause moments to absorb or redirect reality pressure.
Xerxes's HUD looked clean, elegant, glowing with blue-white light. Her blade stats weren't static. They morphed depending on her stance, emotion, and glyph patterning. The "Spellform Conversion" tab showed a translucent overlay: sword techniques being recoded into light-based sigils—stored like living scripts, ready to deploy. At the bottom: one locked ability called "GATEGLYPH: ???" Party Chat, Map Fragmentation, Server Entropy Warnings, and Instability Readouts hovered like AR tags. The world itself occasionally pixelated and re-rendered—but it wasn't a bug. It was the game recalibrating around their Dream Resonance. A golden waypoint shimmered on the horizon—its path fragmented. It blinked:
OBJECTIVE: Reach the Temple of Resonant Flame (Level 90+)
DANGER: PvP Enabled | Corrupted AI Zones Active | Temporal Instability Detected
REWARD: Artifact Data Vault (1/7 Fragment Chain)
"Should we move?" Qayyim asked, eyes scanning the volcanic valley below them. Muted sounds echoed from the canyons—sword clashes, spell detonations, and an unmistakable mechanical growl. "No," said Xerxes, her eyes narrowing. "We're being watched." Zaiyal tapped a finger to his HUD and opened the "Sky Eye" ability. A flock of shadowy shapes swooped overhead—players? No, they moved too uniformly. Too clean. Bots, maybe. Or worse—Corrupted AI Raiders. "This isn't a tutorial zone," Narcis muttered. "They dropped us in mid-endgame. No hand-holding." Suddenly, a deep thrum echoed beneath them. The ground vibrated—and a rupture tore open fifty meters ahead, spraying code like sparks. A boss emerged. A Towering, insectoid, crowned in molten chrome, and trailing a cloak made of corrupted memory shards. Its name appeared above in broken runes:
[???: Choir of the Rift | AI Host Class – Singularity Lv. 87]
"Welcome to Paladin 12," Zaiyal said, grinning as his daggers lit up. "Now I'm all fired up," he said.
The Imam had returned to the Guild World at least for now he needed to do something right away. He needed to apologize to Doctor Amadeus. The Imam's blue cape fluttered behind him and he eventually found the doctor in a courtyard. He explained the entire situation up to this point. He approached the Doctor. He took his blue turban off of his head and placed it in front of his chest exposing his spiky blue hair as it blew in the wind. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know that the girl I had partnered with for practical reasons a while back was someone you actually knew and you had a history with. I was never more than a casual friend of hers. She never told me she was in love. We didn't talk about our personal lives. So I'm sorry Doctor, I'm sorry for assuming that you were in the wrong," said the Imam. The Doctor slowly turned away, "That's fine. It's all water under the bridge… but I can't get over that I didn't keep my promise… she told me if she ever became something horrible I would have to destroy her. But I didn't do it. I'm so weak…" the Doctor began to cry.
The courtyard was quiet except for the soft rustle of dry leaves and the distant hum of astral engines docking at the outer spires of the Guild World. A faint golden light from twin suns refracted through the crystalline architecture, bathing the stone tiles in soft warmth. The Imam took a step forward. He did not interrupt the Doctor's grief. He waited. When the Doctor's sobs grew silent and his back hunched beneath invisible weight, the Imam finally spoke.
"You are not weak, Amadeus. You are human. And more than that—you are aware."
The Doctor wiped his eyes on his sleeve but didn't look back. "You had the strength not to kill her," the Imam continued. "But also the clarity to question whether you should have. This—this tension between justice and mercy—is where the soul sharpens itself." He knelt beside the Doctor.
"In our tradition," he said softly, "we speak of ta'wil—interpretation, unveiling. There is always an outer form, and an inner reality. A literal moment, and its symbolic truth. You see failure. But beneath it, perhaps... there is a vow not yet complete. A return yet to occur."
Doctor Amadeus exhaled slowly. "Even if I wanted to believe that, I don't know where to go from here." The Imam smiled gently.
"In the teachings of the Ahl al-Bayt (the family of the Prophet Muhammad), we learn: the path is not linear. The friend of God may descend into shadow, not as punishment, but as necessity. The light does not abandon the cave—it waits for the eyes to adjust."
He paused, choosing his words like placing stones in a river.
"The Maturidi tell us: reason is trust. Imam Ash'ari reminds us: beyond reason, there is will. The balance is neither surrender nor control—it is trusting in order, even when order breaks down."
The wind passed between them again, and a white blossom fell onto the Imam's hand.
"In the Isma'ili cosmology," he continued, "there are cycles—daur—epochs of concealment and revelation. What you did… or did not do… may not be understood in this daur. But the soul transcends time, Doctor. You will have another chance."
Amadeus turned toward him now, face worn and red-eyed. "And if I fail again?"
The Imam's expression didn't change. It simply deepened.
"Then fail with love. The mystics of Tasawwuf say: 'the lover's path is paved in longing, not in success.' And from the Buddha we learn: compassion without attachment. If your heart moves with sincerity, the Divine knows. Even when you don't."
He stood, placing his turban back over his blue hair, retightening it as the wind slowed.
"You will go forward, Doctor Amadeus. Into a future full of ruins and riddles. But remember: the soul is not a machine to be calibrated. It is a flame to be guarded."
He began to walk away but turned for one last word.
"And when you see her again—whatever form she's taken—don't think of whether you must destroy her. Ask whether your presence might still reach her. That, too, is power. That, too, is jihad."
He spoke again: "And one more thing don't get lost in all this philosophy." This shocked Amaedus. "But you just gave me a bunch of philosophy?" The Imam: "I regret it. Perhaps it was to humor myself. But it's simple really… just do the right thing. I can tell you always know what the right is to do. You are that kind of person, Doctor."
The courtyard fell still again.The Doctor sat alone under the fading light. But something inside him—something fragile and shivering—had stopped dying. It listened. It stirred. And quietly, it stood back up.
Three days had gone by and our heroes: Hermes, Ungar, Talus, Sir Rhyme and Lupus got into the space-ship of five that Nova designed. Nova spoke through the intercom after they all got on the ship. "Remember the ship will be on Alpha-10, the home-planet of the Arcturian people. Within a day and a half or approx. 36 hours. I would recommend you use the training simulation room I installed on the ship as much as possible." After this everything turned on and the ship entered the atmosphere leaving Helios' orbit it was bound for a single small back-water planet, Alpha-10.
Back in the Guild World the Imam was meditating reading a book on philosophy and teological matters. He read over and over the statements of Imam Ali and the Shia Imams and a particular quote by the Sunni Imam Abu Hanifa: "Faith does not increase, nor does it decrease; because a diminution in it would be unbelief." The Imam thought "from the perspective of this tradition or rather adjacent traditions would the good Doctor be an unbeliever in his view of himself, i.e. as a good person?" He thought for a moment and then began to meditate on it. And then he thought of something else, "Hmmmm… I noticed something horrible in the direction that Hermes and the others are headed off to, lets see if I can sense it even now." The Imam concentrated and then he saw an image in his mind's eye of a black furred wolf sitting on an iron throne dressed in black robes, the creature looked towards him and the terror was too great. The Imam began to gasp for air falling on his hands and knees and began to pant. "This creature is too horrible, he clearly has access to incredibly powerful dark magic," he thought as he gritted his teeth in frustration. The Imam looked up, "I only hope to remain safe." Farabius called the Imam over apparently Ranker Xiao was going to announce another trial.
Back in outer space, the ship traveled at hyper-speed. Talus was training in the training anti-gravity simulation room. Hermes sat with her eyes closed until Niffy appeared which seemed to only happen when she was about to complete an internal trial. "It's time." Hermes opened her eyes and saw a text box in front of her. She clicked yes. Suddenly everything disappeared. She was on another planet similar to Helios but a man in green armor was blowing up the city around him killing millions of innocent civilians. There was a group of what looked like super heroes but they had no hope in stopping him. A hero dressed in red was about to approach him but Hermes beat him to the evil-doer. Hermes recognized the uniform immediately, it was her friend the Green Wisp. "Why are you doing this?!" The Green Wisp showed his face he was a human with a black beard, "Because this is just a video game, I've had a stressful day and I just want to unwind." Hermes clapped back: "That would be fine if what you said were true, but this is real, you're really hurting people."
[Game-like interface briefly flashes: "▶ TRIAL INITIATED – ENEMY: GREEN WISP – LEVEL: UNKNOWN"]
[Hermes lunged forward, air pressure cracking behind her like thunder. She threw a rapid combo—three struck with her sheathed sword followed by a roundhouse kick.] Green Wisp blocked the first two, but the third knocked him back. He recovers mid-air, stabilizing with his green flame-like aura.] Green Wisp (snarling):
"This is some boss-fight. You want real?! I'll show you REAL!" [He extended his arms—two massive Green Circuit Chains erupted from his armor, slamming into the ground and dragging explosive pulses across the battlefield.]
[Hermes dashed between the chains, flickers through a teleport dodge, and came up behind him midair, whispering: Hermes:
"Third Wind Style: Crescent Drive." [She unsheathes her sword in a flash—one glowing arc. Green Wisp is knocked down into a building, breaking through multiple floors in a green explosion.]
The Green Wisp rises from the rubble, now shirtless, armor cracked, screaming in rage. His aura darkens—glowing binary digits swirl around him. Green Wisp: "YOU THINK YOU'RE A HERO?! THEN TAKE THIS!" He fires a digital energy beam—reality pixels distort as it curves like a snake toward Hermes. She counters by slicing the beam with a flash technique, scattering code into sparks. They both dashed at hyper-speed through collapsing skyscrapers, parrying and clashing like meteors. Every punch launches shockwaves that flatten the city below. The Green Wisp began to overload. His body glitches—too much raw emotion.]
The Green Wisp was trembling:
"NO! This is impossible. How are you beating me? Are you some kind of monster!" Hermes replied coldly: "The only monster here is you."I didn't want to be this way... but everything's fake! We're just numbers!" Hermes said softly: "That might be true... but our choices are real. That's why I fight. That's why I don't run." [Her aura ignited: soft blue, shaped like wings and constellations. She sheathes her sword—and walks through his final attack, unharmed.] Hermes:
"Forgive yourself. That's the hardest battle of all." TASK ¼ Completed: Defeat the Green Wisp! Her vision went white again, this time she was before a large Chinese temple, a group of Chinese deities including Erlang Shen were sweating on one side holding off this monster before the Buddha could arrive.
It was Sun Wukong the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the Handsome Monkey King. "Hehehehe…. I will tear the Jade Emperor off of his throne and then I will rule heaven as its sovereign."
QUEST 2/4 INITIATED: DEFEAT SUN WUKONG
[Hermes blinked as the simulation shifts violently. Her ears ring. She steadies herself in front of a titanic celestial temple—pillars of dragonstone rising into golden clouds. Explosions echo from the distance. She sprints toward the temple courtyard. There, a horde of Chinese immortals—Erlang Shen included—stand in formation, bloodied and barely holding back a force of nature. Erlang Shen (panting): "Hermes… you're here. But it's too late… he's broken the seals." Suddenly—BOOM. A flash of golden lightning. A shadow flickers overhead. The clouds tore open. He landed with a thunderous crash. His fur glowed gold. His staff, Ruyi Jingu Bang, expanded with a sonic boom and slammed the ground, shaking the heavens. Wukong grinned, spinning the staff with one hand like a martial arts master who's toying with his opponent. Sun Wukong said cockily:
"Heheheh… another challenger? No gods left to stop me? Then I'll crush the stars out of your spine instead!" Hermes steps forward. Her sword is already sheathed, her aura sparking—still residual from the Green Wisp fight, wings of starlight cracking the sky behind her. Hermes (stern): "If you want the throne of Heaven, then prove you're worthy of more than chaos."
[Wukong teleported with a thunderclap, appearing behind Hermes and swinging his staff. She blocked with the flat of her sheathed sword—sparks and pressure tore the ground around them. Sun Wukong grinned: "Not bad! But I'm still holding back!" He lept into the sky, split into four clones—all wielding staves—and they descended like comets. Hermes spun in place, deflecting each one with timed sheathed slashes, every movement bursting with air pressure. Hermes: "Third Wind Style: Petal Storm Form!" A barrage of wind petals slashed through the illusions—one Wukong remains and barreled through the attack with a feral smile.
Wukong powered up—his fur flared to solar gold, the ground beneath him scorched with divine fire. Celestial rings spin behind him like halos twisted from rebellion. Sun Wukong screamed:
"I was born from stone! I defied Heaven's registry! I don't lose!" He slammed his staff down—summoning a divine mountain-shaped energy wave. Hermes flipped through it, her feet barely touching debris as she raced up the blast, then teleported in front of him mid-air. Hermes: "Fourth Wind Style: Azure Dragon Pulse!" She unleashed a sheathed sword blast—dragon-shaped wind energy pierces through the smoke and drove Wukong into a cliff face, cracking it like divine glass.
Wukong rose slowly. His body burns with pain. But… he was laughing. Sun Wukong: "Heh… you know... I wasn't always this mad. I tried to work for the Jade Emperor and his inferior but they treated me like a monster." His eyes glowed fiercely now—not just with rage, but with heartbreak. Sun Wukong: "Tell me, warrior... if they never see you as more than your form—why not become the monster they expect?" Hermes sheathed her blade. Her aura faded. She walked toward him. Hermes: "I know that pain. But you're more than what they feared. You're the Monkey King—the one who will fight for heaven, not against it. Hermes: "You don't have to prove your strength. Prove your peace." Wukong's staff trembled in his grip… then dissolved into golden vapor.
[Golden aura surrounds them both. The battlefield resets. Mission Complete.]
TASK 2/4 COMPLETED: DEFUSE SUN WUKONG'S WRATH
"BOND FORMED: SUN WUKONG (RELUCTANT ALLY)"]
TASK ¾: DEFEAT LOKI, THE GOD OF TRICKSTERS!
It was Ragnarok the destruction of the entire Norse pantheon and Hermes stood like a mountain before the white haired god of tricksters Loki. Thor, Odin and the others were powerless to stop Loki and his army of Frost Giants. Hermes unsheathed her sword to challenge Loki.
Ragnarok – Trial 3/4: The Trickster's End
The gods had fallen. Hermes had not. The sky was burning. Ash and frost mixed into a choking storm above the wreckage of Asgard. The Bifrost bridge lay shattered in a thousand aurora shards. Odin's spear lay broken, Thor's hammer cracked in half. The corpses of gods and giants littered the field in silence. Only two figures remained standing. Hermes, sword in hand, robes torn and scorched, aura flickering like fading starlight. And across from her stood Loki, white-haired and wild-eyed, dressed in midnight silk and frostfire armor. His smirk was carved in pain, and his golden eyes glinted with venomous joy.
Behind him, a colossal army of Frost Giants waited like statues—frozen in reverence, or fear. Ragnarok had come. But something had gone wrong. Hermes still stood. Loki tilted his head. "You're not from this world. You're not even in their myths." He stepped forward, boots crunching frozen blood. "And yet you're the last one standing in their final tale." Hermes said nothing. She unsheathed her sword, the motion echoing like thunder. The sound rippled across the battlefield like a command. Frost Giants flinched. Loki's grin widened. "So be it. One last act before the curtains fall."
Loki vanished first. He didn't attack—he unraveled. His body twisted into dozens of raven-colored serpents of light, each hissing with divine malice. Hermes dashed forward, reading the pattern, slicing three of the illusions in a fluid motion. But none were real. The real Loki reappeared behind her, whispering into her ear like a curse: "Do you know how many times I've been betrayed by those I loved? Of course you don't. You're still pure. You still believe in order." Hermes responded with a silent backward stab, her sword glowing with a soft blue crescent—Fourth Wind Style: Horizon Fang. Loki's body turned to frost and shattered. She paused. Then felt it: a distortion in her own shadow. "Got you," Loki whispered from the darkness beneath her feet. Dozens of mirror-clones exploded out of her silhouette—grinning, manic versions of Hermes herself, each wielding a twisted parody of her sword.
They struck as one. Hermes's eyes flashed. "Sixth Wind Style: Spiral Blossom." She spun in place, slicing through the clones with centrifugal grace. The copies burst into aurora glass. Loki tumbled out of the darkness, arms crossed, laughing mid-air as he flipped into a safe landing. Loki (mocking): "You fight like a dream that refuses to wake up. But this is the end, Hermes. Don't you get it? This is the last story." Hermes stepped forward. Her blade hummed. "Then I'll write the ending myself." Loki screamed and raised both hands skyward. The sky fractured. From the void above, he summoned a World Serpent-shaped spell—runes older than language swirled around his body. His form expanded, becoming divine—horned, six-armed, skin flickering between Loki's face and a thousand others.
He screamed: "I AM ALL THE TRICKERY THAT SURVIVED THE GODS!" The spell descended like a spiral of frozen suns. A single impact would have ended Hermes. But she wasn't afraid. She sheathed her blade. And walked forward. Every step unraveled the spell. The blade never moved—but the aura did. Her footsteps wrote kanji into the air, ancient sigils of wind and meaning, which tore through Loki's divine form—not in body, but in belief. Loki fell. Crawling, bleeding starlight, back in his original form. No illusions. No tricks. Just a man with god-blood and too many regrets. Hermes stood over him. Loki whispered to himself: "It's not fair. I just… wanted the gods to see me." Hermes nodded. "They did. But they were too small to understand you." She raised her sword. And then… let it fall behind her. She spared him. Loki was stunned and looked up. Hermes smiled and said: "But I understand you, promise."
TRIAL 3/4 COMPLETE: "Break the Cycle of Destruction"
Text flickered in her vision:
[Loki has become your Pact Ally.]
[Trial Complete. Exit Gate Unlocked.]
TRIAL 4/4: Hermes vs. Kakia - the God of Malice:
Hermes stood alone in a world that breathed nightmares. The ground beneath her feet wasn't earth, but memories—shattered, inverted, and whispered in voices not her own. The sky boiled with crying faces, and the air dripped with the scent of rust and perfume. Across from her, standing atop a twisted carousel of broken dolls and infant laughter, was Kakia. She looked like the young girl she always did—the embodiment of innocence gone wrong. Two tight pink pigtails framed her round face. Her dress was sugar white, bloodstained at the hem, and her glowing pink eyes shimmered like stars dipped in arsenic.
She tilted her head, smiling with all her teeth. "How's it going, girly girl?" she chirped. "Can you bear the weight of your responsibility?" Hermes remained silent. "Aww, come on, don't be shy!" Kakia twirled. The dolls beneath her feet wept. "I'm so sorry, but I'll end your suffering today, don't you worry, cutie-coo." Kakia snapped her fingers, and the realm exploded. Thousands of illusions—versions of Hermes, each twisted by guilt—materialized and began attacking her all at once. Some were crying. Others are screaming. All carried real swords. Hermes moved fast—too fast for thought—weaving between clones and carving through unreality. "These are not me," she whispered. "These are the burdens I've already carried." But the illusions began talking back. "You let them die in that horrid realm." "You told Alex you'd protect her." "You could've walked away."
Kakia danced through the chaos untouched, giggling. "They're not lies, Hermes. They're just... memories you've polished." Hermes stopped. Closed her eyes. Felt her heartbeat. The air shifted. Her aura ignited—not bright, not violent—just resolute. Soft blue light wrapped around her form like wind made visible. "I'm not afraid of guilt. I've walked with it long enough for it to be dealt with." With one strike—a single step—she shattered every illusion around her. Kakia's smile cracked, if only slightly. She dropped the act. Her form twisted—legs lengthening, her arms turning to jagged thorns, her voice echoing in tongues. "So that's how you want to play," Kakia growled, now a silhouette made of spite and broken promises. "Let's see how much your little morality means when your own soul wants to rip you apart."
Kakia dove toward her, moving faster than light should allow. Her claws tore open space, forming black-ringed portals of hate—each one casting future tragedies into the battlefield. Hermes fought through them all. In one portal, she saw herself murdering Farabius. In another, she abandoned her team. In another still—she stood atop a throne of corpses, smiling. But she kept walking. With every step, she whispered names. "Lupus. Talus. Sir Rhyme. Niffy. Ungar." Each name pushed back the darkness. Her aura flared—not with anger, but with remembrance. Kakia screamed. Her form swelled—the Nightmare Absolute—a thousand arms and ten thousand mouths chanting old languages of resentment. She lunged with one final shriek: "EVERYTHING YOU DO WILL BE FORGOTTEN. EVERYONE YOU SAVE WILL STILL DIE. EVEN YOU WILL TURN TO ASH. YOU'RE EXISTENCE WILL BE DESTROYED, IT'LL BE LIKE YOU NEVER LIVED! THE COSMOS WILL FORGET YOU!"
Hermes did not flinch. She sheathed her sword. And with a quiet voice, not yelling, not raging—just firm— "Then let it be remembered that I stood here." She unsheathed her blade one final time. "Seventh Wind Style: The Silent Dawn." The strike didn't glow. It didn't scream. It silenced. Kakia tried to drive back the day but Hermes was having an easier time driving back the night. An incredible beam struggle began Hermes slowly began to push Kakia in her monstrous form back. "No it's impossible! I can't lose to an insect like you!!" Hermes smirked: "It's over bitch!" And with that Kakia exploded into light.
TRIAL 4/4 COMPLETE: Transcend Malice (Reached Level 400,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000[continues]...Hermes stood in silence. The world dissolved around her like ink in water. A final whisper from Kakia echoed behind her: "…You win, sweetie-pie. But winning isn't the end, you know." Then came the light. And Hermes opened her eyes aboard the ship. She exhaled, hand still resting on her sword. A system voice whispered. [TRIALS COMPLETED.]
[SYSTEM UNLOCKED: TRUE ENTRY PERMISSION GRANTED.] When she opened her eyes her aura exploded with energy. Lupus was finishing up in the training room when he felt it, "Again! She powered up again!" He ran out the witness along with Ungar, Sir Rhyme and Talus, Hermes' unlocking a new incredible power. Lupus though he began to soften on Hermes thought to himself, "Damnit everytime I'm about to ascend to the Throne of God this mere child always stands in my way."
Hermes stood in the center of the deck, her chest rising and falling in silence. The air around her shimmered with heat and spirit—a radiant pulse of unlocked potential that bent the room's artificial gravity. Standing in front of her with the three others, Lupus staggered back, shielding his eyes as her aura detonated into cascading white-blue rings of light. Sir Rhyme's was blown away for his part. Ungar's armored body tensed instinctively. Even Talus—cool and emotionless—blinked. Niffy hovered nearby, quietly recording the waveform levels. None of them said anything for a moment. The room felt like prayer. Then: Lupus growled under his breath. "Again…? Again, she ascends first." His fingers clenched. His tail flicked once behind him. "Every time I'm close… she pulls away. She's not even trying to take the throne. So why do the gods favor her?" Sir Rhyme, leaning against the doorway, and spoke softly: "Because she doesn't seek it. She just moves forward." Hermes exhaled and finally lowered her hand. The glow faded—but not completely. The system tattoo over her shoulder now burned with a permanent celestial sigil—mark of the True Entry Gate.
A voice buzzed over the ship's intercom— It was Nova's. "Attention crew. We've completed 48% of the travel window to Alpha-10. But... we've run into a minor issue." A pause. "Fuel compression cells took a hit during the last spacefold. I recommend an emergency stop at the nearest inhabitable body—one showing up now as 'Delta-7-B Minor.' Should be small though registered. Probably safe. It has a nice local civilization to boot." Hermes turned toward the others as the ship gently veered off-course. Sir Rhyme smirked. "Something tells me it won't be safe." Ungar nodded. "Nothing is, these days." As the ship passed a veil of space clouds, Delta-7-B came into view—a bizarre orb wrapped in vaporous rings, with an emerald jungle lattice visible between veils of fog. The planet seemed half-awake, pulsing as if breathing. They entered the space of a city, it was beautiful and crystalline. Nova's voice returned: "Strange... the planet's data signature keeps rewriting itself. Be careful when disembarking. This world isn't in any records from the Galactic Cartograph." Inside the cockpit, Hermes stared down at the world, calm but alert. "Let's refuel," she said.
The moment they stepped onto Delta-7-B, they felt it:
The pulse. This planet was alive—not in the usual way. The buildings breathed. Trees leaned closer than physics allowed. Time itself seemed to lag, as if the world was deciding whether to welcome them or devour them. The city around them glittered with crystalline structures and hovering stone roads. Its architecture resembled sculptures of thought, grown rather than built—half-art, half-tech. The team fanned out. Hermes walked ahead, flanked by Lupus and Sir Rhyme, while Talus silently scanned the area for residual warps. Ungar's heavy footfalls left quiet dents in the polished glass street. Niffy whirred overhead, slowly spinning. Then—a gunshot split the air. Not a bullet. A compression round. It burst in the sky above their heads in a flare of purple fire, scattering a shockwave of radiant energy. From a rooftop, a figure dropped. Not hostile. Not fleeing. Law. He landed with one knee bent and his weapon—an eight-chambered energy coil revolver—pointed straight down in ceremonial salute. The alien stood at nearly eight feet tall, lean and long-limbed. His skin shimmered in shifting gradients of green and cobalt. A badge pulsed at his chest: the sigil of the Intergalactic Patrol.
His voice was clipped, formal—yet distant, like someone who'd been hunting too long without rest. "State your business, travelers." Hermes stepped forward, calm as starlight. "Fuel. Nothing more." The Patrolman's golden eyes narrowed. Then— He holstered his weapon. "Then perhaps we are allies. You are headed to Alpha-10, yes?" Ungar's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?" The lawman folded his arms behind his back. "Well you seem to be good blokes. I for my part am re-fueling as well, I'm off to neutralize this tyrant called the "Coyote Wolf (the specifics of this goal are classified)." That name cut the air like a blade. Lupus's eyes lit. Sir Rhyme looked up from his notepad. Hermes exhaled. Slowly. The Patrolman introduced himself. "I am Agent Zero of the Seventh Seal Division. My mission is classified, but I can confirm this: the Coyote Wolf has destabilized three federated sectors, killed over 700 documented entities, and stolen an entire codex from the Ashur Data Vault. If he reaches Alpha-10's core... the planetary command relay will fall to him."
Hermes met his gaze evenly."Then we'll stop him." Zero gave a respectful bow of the head. "I'm no fool its clear you're capable of taking him on. But still. You'll have help. But first..." His eyes turned west, toward a ring of shouts and sirens echoing down the street. "Some of Delta-7-B's local cartel enforcers have taken advantage of the Patrol's weakened hold. I've been trying to apprehend them all day. If you help me clean up this last chase, I'll give you the fuel you need." Hermes smiled.
"Let's run."
The squad took off, dashing through the city's upper tiers. Jetboards screamed past. The targets—three rogue technocrats in sleek cloaks and cybermasks—ran vertically across building sides, using magnetic boosters and cloak-fractals. Each carried what looked like a reactor core on their back, wired with stolen data. Sero fired warning shots—clean, precise. His revolver sounded like thunder wrapped in a hymn. Hermes zipped across a light bridge, leaping between towers, using her Wind Step technique to outpace gravity. She vanished, reappearing midair to cut off the lead runner. Lupus rocketed up from below, his claws glowing. "Let me take the loud one!" Ungar body-checked a pursuing drone out of the air and turned it into a weapon—hurling it at one of the fleeing cartel runners, pinning him to a neon wall.
Sir Rhyme whistled softly as the data core burst in a digital wave. "How rude," he said, tapping a rune on his wrist and reversing the wave into harmless dust. By the end of the chase, the local enforcers lay cuffed in Sero's magnetic binders, unconscious. Sero dusted himself off. "You're faster than most patrol units I've worked with." Lupus scoffed, panting slightly. "You're lucky we were bored." Back at the ship, Sero opened a containment case. Inside were three cubes of raw quantum fuel, glowing softly. "This should get you to Alpha-10—and back if needed." He offered it to Hermes, and she took it with a nod. He turned away, adjusting his comms visor. But before vanishing into the fog beyond the crystalline district, he looked over his shoulder. "I'll meet you there. Alpha-10. Whether I arrive before or after you—together, we bring down the Coyote Wolf." Hermes stood there, the cube still glowing in her hands. "Then we'll be waiting."