The air between them still vibrated with unspoken weight. Leonidas had turned to depart, shadows trailing behind him like wounded banners, his vow to protect — or destroy — Megumi echoing in the silence.
Uranus watched the Demon King vanish into the dark horizon of stars, the faint beat of wings swallowed by night. For a long while, the Titan remained alone, standing against the endless expanse. His form shimmered faintly, robes stirring in an unfelt breeze, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
But he was not at peace.
⸻
The Skyfather's Doubt
Uranus tilted his head upward. The constellations bent and shifted at his will, arranging themselves into patterns only he remembered. There were faces there, memories of children once beloved, now scarred by betrayal and war. Zeus's storm. Cronus's blade. His blood spilled on the soil of the earth when his son's sickle severed what could never be returned.
And yet, through it all, he had not hated them.
He hated himself.
"I was only sky," Uranus murmured, his voice echoing faintly across the astral void. "I was vast. I was eternal. But I was never present. And so they fell."
The stars blinked in reply, like quiet reminders of his absence.
Megumi Valentine. The boy who bore more than any god, Titan, or demon should. A mortal crowned in fire, love, and grief. In him, Uranus had seen both the echo of his sons and something altogether different. A possibility. A chance for redemption — not of himself, but of existence itself.
And yet…
⸻
The Stirring Beneath
A tremor rolled across the void. Subtle, but undeniable. Not the natural shifting of worlds, not the pulse of mortal prayers. Something deeper. Older.
Uranus closed his eyes. He had felt it before — that hollow resonance like the silence after a scream. The King of Erasure. The First Fallen King. The one even the Titans whispered about in the age before creation found its voice.
He had tested Megumi once, forcing pain and doubt against the boy's heart. Megumi had held firm, but only just. For a fleeting moment, Uranus had glimpsed the shadow stirring within — and it had looked back.
Now it stirred again.
The Titan's robes whipped violently as if caught in a storm, though no wind blew. The stars flickered, dimming at their edges.
"He rises," Uranus whispered, his chest tightening. "Too soon."
⸻
Leonidas Returns
Dark wings burst back into the astral expanse, trailing fire and shadow. Leonidas landed hard, his armor glowing faintly as if scorched from within. His eyes glowed red with urgency.
"You feel it too," the Demon King growled.
Uranus didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.
"It's him, isn't it?" Leonidas's fists trembled. "The Erasure King. He's clawing for Megumi again."
Uranus raised a hand, fingers trembling slightly despite his divine composure. "Yes. His essence scratches at the walls of the vessel. If Megumi falters for even a breath — if grief or rage blinds him — the shadow will break through."
Leonidas's jaw clenched. He remembered the last time, the brief moment when Megumi's eyes had gone black with unmaking, when the world itself had seemed to forget its own shape around him. It had lasted only moments, but those moments had been enough to terrify even gods.
"How long?" Leonidas asked. "How long until he takes him completely?"
Uranus did not look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the dimming stars. "I cannot say. A day. A year. A century. The timeline is not his to follow. He is not bound by time. Only by will."
"Then Megumi's will is all that holds him?"
"Yes," Uranus said softly. "And will breaks."
⸻
The Test of Kings
The ground beneath their feet split like glass. Shadows seeped upward, writhing like living chains. The grass that had once seemed eternal wilted and rotted in seconds, leaving the Titan and the Demon King standing on a barren, shifting void.
Leonidas drew his blade instinctively, its edge dripping with molten fire. "He's here, isn't he?"
Uranus extended his hand, palm outward, holding Leonidas back. His eyes burned like collapsing stars. "No. Not yet. This is not his body. Not his voice. Only his hunger."
A hollow laugh rolled across the heavens. Not sound. Not echo. Something deeper, vibrating within bone and blood.
So this is what my vessel surrounds himself with…
Leonidas's eyes widened. The voice wasn't Megumi's. It was heavier, crueler. An absence wearing sound like a mask.
"Show yourself!" the Demon King roared.
The shadows trembled, coiling into a vague shape — a figure tall, cloaked, faceless. Its mere outline caused the stars above to vanish, one by one, swallowed whole.
Uranus's body tensed. He had expected this, but not so soon. "You have no claim here," the Titan said, voice sharp as lightning.
The shadow tilted its head. No claim? My mark has already sunk into him. He is mine. You cannot unmake what I have chosen.
Uranus's fists clenched. "He is not yours. He never will be."
The faceless void leaned closer, its voice dripping with venom. Do you believe that, Skyfather? Or do you merely hope? Mortals break. Gods kneel. Titans rot. I am not life. I am not death. I am the silence between. And your boy will be mine.
Leonidas lunged forward, blade slashing the dark. Fire clashed against void — and vanished. The shadow did not move, did not even flinch. His attack was swallowed as though it had never existed.
The Demon King froze, teeth bared. "What the hell—"
"He erases," Uranus said grimly. "Not destroys. Erases. As though nothing was ever there."
The shadow shifted, turning its faceless head toward Leonidas. You will learn, little king. All your loyalty, all your love — when he is gone, so too will be your memory of him. Even pain will not remain.
⸻
The Breaking Point
Uranus stepped forward, his presence expanding until the stars bent once more. "You will not take him. Not while I breathe."
The void chuckled, though it was less sound and more a sickening ripple through reality. Then suffocate, Skyfather. He is already cracking. His grief festers. His rage fuels me. You cannot hold him forever.
The Titan's jaw tightened. "Then I will not hold him alone."
With a wave of his hand, starlight burst outward, tearing the shadow's form apart. For a brief moment, the heavens blazed with constellations, overpowering the void. Leonidas raised his blade again, wings flaring, ready to strike if even a shred remained.
But the shadow was gone.
Not defeated.
Not destroyed.
Only retreated.
⸻
The Silence After
The grass returned under their feet, though brittle. The stars flickered back into place, dimmer than before. Leonidas lowered his weapon, his breath heavy.
"That wasn't just hunger," he muttered. "That was him. That was the Erasure King."
Uranus nodded slowly, his hands trembling behind his back. "A fragment, yes. A whisper of what lies within. But enough to confirm the truth. The seal weakens. Megumi's resistance falters."
Leonidas's throat tightened. "And you just said his will is all that holds the thing back."
"Exactly."
The Demon King swore under his breath, pacing like a caged beast. "If he slips again… if he loses himself for more than a moment—"
"Then the world will forget it ever was," Uranus finished, his voice quiet, resolute.
⸻
The Titan's Resolve
For the first time, Uranus allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. His hand brushed his temple, and for a fleeting heartbeat, he looked weary — not as the Skyfather, but as an old man burdened by mistakes and inevitability.
Leonidas noticed. His rage faltered, replaced by something softer. "You're scared."
Uranus didn't deny it. "Even I cannot gaze into that void without flinching. But fear is not weakness, Demon King. Fear is a reminder that this fight matters."
Leonidas's grip tightened around his blade, but his voice softened. "Then what do we do?"
Uranus turned, his robes glowing faintly with returning starlight. His eyes burned with new resolve. "We watch him. We guide him. And when he falters, we will not let him fall alone. That shadow feeds on despair, on isolation. If we can deny it that, perhaps… just perhaps… Megumi will hold."
The Demon King exhaled, wings folding behind him. "Then we stand together."
"Together," Uranus agreed.
But even as they spoke, both felt it — the lingering residue of the Erasure King, a promise whispered in silence:
Soon.