An ocean of blood stretched endlessly beneath a dead sky, still and suffocating, swallowing what remained of a once-glorious city.
Ruined towers jutted out like broken ribs from beneath the crimson tide, their reflections trembling faintly across its surface. Weapons lay scattered throughout the sea, half-submerged, their dulled edges whispering of a battle so violent that even the earth itself seemed to recoil. There were no corpses left behind, no survivors crawling through the wreckage.
Nothing lived.
Nothing... except two.
At the heart of the devastation, a young man stood in silence before a crumbling wall, his figure unmoving, as though the world had long since lost its meaning. In front of him, pinned against shattered stone, was a girl.
A massive spear had driven straight through her chest, anchoring her to the wall like a cruel monument. Blood spilled endlessly from the wound, tracing dark paths down her trembling body before vanishing into the ocean below. Her breathing was shallow, uneven, yet her expression remained strangely calm.
The black-haired girl coughed, crimson staining her lips, but even then... she smiled.
Her gaze lifted, meeting his.
"Look at you..." she muttered weakly, her voice laced with faint amusement. "All worried and stuff."
He said nothing.
His face was partially hidden behind a fractured mask, revealing only a single eye glowing a deep, unnatural red. It was cold... yet somewhere within it, something fragile twisted and cracked, as if he had long forgotten how to express what he felt.
She raised her hand slowly, the motion weak but deliberate.
An invitation.
He hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, lowering himself to his knees beside her. The instant he drew close, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a gentle embrace despite the spear lodged through her chest.
"Thank you..." she whispered softly, her voice trembling now. "Thank you... for everything..."
His body stiffened.
Words gathered in his throat, clawing desperately for release, yet none came. In the end, he simply held her back, his grip tightening as though he could anchor her to this world through sheer will alone.
Tears welled in her eyes, though she fought to keep her voice steady.
"If this is the last time we see each other..." she murmured, her breath growing weaker, "just know... you're the best brother I could've ever asked for."
"I..." he began, his voice cracking under the weight of something he could no longer contain. "S-same..."
She let out a faint, breathy laugh.
"You're so hopeless..."
Slowly, she pulled away from the embrace, her hands rising to cup his face. Despite the blood, despite the trembling, her touch was warm. Gentle. Unshaken.
Her eyes locked onto his.
"Make me a promise."
He froze. "A... promise?"
"Yes." Her smile softened, but there was something resolute behind it now, something unyielding. "At your current strength... you'll clear the trial. You'll reach it... the Absolute Wish."
Her fingers brushed lightly through his hair.
"I already know what you're going to ask for," she continued, her tone turning firm, protective. "So listen carefully. If you go back... if you're given another chance... you find me first."
His eyes widened.
"I'll gather everyone again," she said. "I'll rebuild what we had. But you..." her grip tightened slightly, "you stay out of it."
"W-wait—"
She pressed a finger gently against his lips, silencing him before he could protest.
"I know what your life was like before all this," she whispered. "You lost everything. You were miserable. Tell me... do you not have regrets?"
He couldn't answer.
"If you're given a second chance," she continued, her voice softening once more, "then live for yourself this time. I don't care if it's selfish. I don't care if it's right or wrong. Just... be you."
A faint, teasing smile touched her lips.
"Is it so bad... that my dying wish is to see my little brother become a better man?"
"N-no... I just..."
His words crumbled again.
Before he could try to gather them, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against his.
A silent vow.
One that neither time nor death could erase.
"Do you understand?" she asked quietly.
Cornered by her gaze, by her warmth, by the inevitability closing in around them, he gave the smallest nod.
"Good..." she breathed, though a cough interrupted her, more blood spilling past her lips.
Her skin had grown pale. Fragile. Fading.
She knew.
They both did.
"One last thing..." she murmured.
His eyes snapped back to hers, panic barely contained beneath the surface.
She smiled.
"Can you... consume me?"
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
"W-what...?" he whispered, horror seeping into his voice.
"I won't make it out of this," she said gently. "And I refuse to die at their hands... or let this end be meaningless."
Her hand rose weakly, brushing his cheek.
"So take it. My power. My soul. It's not much... but it'll help you, won't it?"
His entire body trembled.
This wasn't a choice. It was a blade pressed against his throat.
Seeing his hesitation, she took his hand and guided it to her chest, just above the wound. Beneath his palm, he felt it.
Her heartbeat.
Faint.
Slowing.
Each beat weaker than the last.
"Please..." she whispered, her voice breaking now. "It hurts... more than you think..."
Something inside him cracked.
The rhythm beneath his hand faltered again.
...and again.
Her eyes, dimming, searched his one last time.
"Please..."
Silence.
Then—
"Beelzebub."
The word tore from his throat like a curse.
A violent surge of energy erupted from his palm, swallowing her whole in a storm of devouring force. Light twisted into darkness, wrapping around her fragile body as it began to break apart.
And yet...
She smiled.
"See you around... kiddo."
Then she was gone.
Not fallen.
Not lifeless.
Gone.
Consumed.
His hand remained outstretched, trembling violently as the last traces of her existence vanished into him. His eyes widened, something primal breaking loose within their crimson depths.
And then—
He screamed.
A roar of anguish and fury tore through the dead world, shaking the blood-soaked sea, rattling the ruins, splitting the suffocating silence that had lingered for far too long.
Power erupted from him in waves, dark and violent, devouring everything in its path. The ocean churned. The sky trembled. The world itself seemed to recoil under the weight of his wrath.
Yet within that storm...
His eyes remained.
Burning.
Unyielding.
A vow carved into the abyss itself.
Revenge.
...
Above the world, beyond storm and sky, where clouds themselves bowed into stillness…
A palace floated.
It did not rest upon anything. It existed, suspended in divine authority, bathed in endless light that poured from no visible source. The structure stretched infinitely, its pillars carved from something that resembled marble yet shimmered like condensed starlight. Each step, each arch, each surface carried an impossible weight… as though reality itself had been sculpted to serve this place.
At its heart lay a grand hall.
Vast enough to swallow empires.
And within it… sat gods.
Thousands of thrones lined the expanse, each one a reflection of its owner's dominion. Some burned like miniature suns, others pulsed with living storms, some were woven from shadows that refused to stay still. Every seat radiated authority, every figure seated upon them carried a presence that could crush mortals with a mere glance.
They were not simply rulers.
They were concepts given form.
Time. War. Moonlight. Oceans. Wind. Flame. Void.
Each god, distinct.
Each god… absolute.
—
Upon a throne shaped like an endless turning mechanism sat Chronoa, the Goddess of Time.
Behind her, a colossal wheel rotated in perfect rhythm, embedded at its core an hourglass that flipped with every cycle. Sand flowed upward as often as it fell, defying direction, defying logic. Each grain shimmered like a fragment of existence itself.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
—
Not far from her stood Pyro, the God of War.
His throne was no seat at all, but a battlefield made manifest. A colossal greatsword was embedded deep into the floor, its blade scarred from countless wars. He stood atop its hilt, arms crossed, his presence burning like restrained violence.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
He was always ready.
—
Reclining lazily upon a crescent-shaped throne, as though carved from a fragment of the night sky itself, was Tsukuyomi, Goddess of the Moon.
Her silver eyes shimmered with quiet amusement, fixed on the figure below, as if watching a play unfold for her entertainment.
—
Nearby, a small figure sat quietly.
Lilly, Goddess of Divine Waters.
Her throne was a gently opened clamshell, pearlescent and radiant, floating atop a thin veil of water that never spilled. Wrapped in an oversized hood, she peeked out shyly, her childlike form at odds with the ancient, oceanic power that rippled beneath her presence.
—
And then…
At the very center of it all…
Above all thrones, above all authority…
Sat Gaia.
The Goddess of Creation.
Her throne was a living world, a blue planet slowly rotating beneath her feet, encircled by a massive dharma wheel that turned with quiet, deliberate motion. Above her head, another wheel hovered… fractured, cracked along its edges, as though time itself had tried to break it.
Or perhaps… something had succeeded.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her hand, her golden eyes glimmering with interest.
Because before her…
Stood a man.
—
He wore white.
A pristine suit, untouched by the chaos of existence itself. His face was hidden behind a mask, simple in design, carved with a curved mouth and an "XD" expression etched like ancient runes.
Mocking.
Playful.
Wrong.
His long black hair was tied neatly behind his neck, held in place by a golden hairpin shaped like a dharma wheel.
And despite standing before thousands of gods…
He did not bow.
He did not kneel.
He simply stood.
Calm.
Untouched.
As if they were the ones on trial.
—
"Are you certain about your decision, young lord?"
Gaia's voice flowed through the hall, smooth as silk, yet carrying a weight that pressed against existence itself. A teasing smile curved along her lips.
"The Phantom Trials are not forgiving… perhaps you'd prefer something simpler?"
Her smile widened, playful… dangerous.
"A battle to the death, perhaps?"
A soft chuckle escaped the masked man.
"No need, Your Highness. I have no interest in such dull entertainments."
He adjusted his gloves, his movements precise, unhurried.
"I'll simply take what I want… using my own skills."
Silence fell.
Then—
It cracked.
"Are you implying we are beneath you?" A blazing voice rang out.
Ra, God of the Sun, rose from his throne of living fire, his presence radiating scorching authority.
Others followed.
"Know your place."
"A fledgling dares speak like this?"
"Arrogance without power is suicide."
The hall trembled with their voices.
But the man…
He smiled beneath the mask.
"Such a disappointing pantheon…" he muttered. "I expected more from beings who call themselves gods."
That did it.
Power surged. Tension snapped. The gods rose as one, ready to crush him where he stood—
"Enough."
One word.
And the universe listened.
Chronoa stood.
The wheel behind her slowed… then stopped.
Her gaze locked onto the man.
"That is enough from you."
Silence returned instantly.
Because when Time speaks…
Everything else obeys.
—
She moved.
No.
She was there.
The moment she stepped forward, the world froze.
The wheel ceased.
The hourglass halted.
Time itself collapsed into stillness.
Only a select few remained untouched.
Chronoa.
Pyro.
Tsukuyomi.
Lilly.
Sylvia, Goddess of Cosmic Winds.
…and Gaia.
Within this frozen world, Chronoa advanced, her blade manifesting in her grasp. A sword shaped like the hand of a clock, its edge thin, precise, absolute.
She closed the distance in an instant.
Her blade descended toward his neck—
"Cute trick."
Her eyes widened.
Above his head, the golden hairpin had risen… expanding, unfolding into a radiant dharma wheel that rivaled Gaia's own authority.
"I like it."
Snap.
The sound echoed.
And everything broke.
Time shattered like glass.
The wheel spun wildly.
The hourglass flipped uncontrollably.
Chronoa's body froze mid-strike.
Completely.
Utterly.
Her power… turned against her.
"What… did you do?!" she demanded, her voice the only thing that could still move.
The hall fell into stunned silence.
This was no longer arrogance.
This was something else.
Something that stood above the laws they governed.
—
He stepped closer.
Calm.
Untouched.
He reached out… and took her blade from her hand as if it had never belonged to her.
Then, without hesitation—
He placed it against her neck.
"Give me a reason," he said softly, his voice now stripped of all playfulness, "not to end you right here."
Clap.
Clap.
Applause echoed through the hall.
Gaia rose from her throne, her smile radiant with amusement.
"Magnificent…"
She descended slowly, each step graceful, inevitable.
"In exchange for her life," she continued, "she will grant you something of value."
She stopped beside Chronoa.
"A tool… to help you catch up in this little game."
The man considered it.
Then—
Snap.
Chronoa was released.
The dharma wheel above him collapsed back into a simple hairpin, resting once more against his tied hair.
She staggered slightly, stunned.
But Gaia's gaze did not waver.
"Chronoa."
A command.
She obeyed.
Raising her hand, she reached toward her throne.
The hourglass embedded within it trembled… then tore free, flying into her grasp.
Without a word…
She offered it to him.
"Take it."
He chuckled.
"I know exactly what it does."
The moment he grasped it—
The hall erupted.
"Wait!"
"Stop this at once!"
"You'll destroy everything we've built!"
Fear.
Real fear.
For the first time.
But the man simply raised the hourglass.
Light exploded.
Time froze once more.
Space twisted.
Reality cracked.
Only the highest remained standing against the distortion.
And at the center of it all…
The hourglass shattered.
Fragments of time scattered like dying stars.
And within the collapsing void—
A single figure stood.
Unmoving.
Unchallenged.
A man in white…
Holding the remnants of eternity in his hand.
...