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The Rise Of The God Of Death
*Chapter 3: A New Evening*
Eight hundred years had passed since the fall of Daimon. The world had begun to forget. Peace spread across most of the omniverses… but some wounds never healed.
Far away, in the shadowed mountains of *Central Planet, Omniverse 8*, a lone soldier wandered. Faceless. Nameless. Forgotten by war. His armor rusted, body weak, and soul tired. He wasn't searching for anything in particular — just a place to die.
But fate had other plans.
As the sun dipped below the jagged peaks, he stumbled upon a hidden crevice between the rocks. Something called to him from deep within. A strange humming… a pressure unlike anything he'd felt before.
He forced his way through the narrow passage. At the heart of the mountain was a sealed wall — old, cold, and indestructible. The noise came from within it.
Desperation drove him.
He struck the wall. Again. And again.
With bleeding hands and a broken blade.
Until finally — *it cracked*.
A shockwave of cursed energy erupted, knocking him back. The mountain trembled. But inside the wall… nothing stood. Only a broken, ancient *altar*, cracked and aged by time. And on it floated a *ring of dark red aura* — pulsing like a heart.
He stepped forward, entranced.
Something inside whispered:
*"Take it… you deserve power…"*
Without hesitation, he reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the aura — it vanished. The altar *exploded*, and in an instant, the entire mountain *collapsed*, burying him beneath a sea of stone and flame.
He was dead.
But the aura had vanished for a reason.
**
Meanwhile…
In the forbidden wastelands of *Omniverse 7*, a place that had never recovered from the ancient war, the sky remained stained. The winds howled through blackened ruins. This was the very battlefield where *Daimon*, the God of Death, was sealed and defeated.
And in the center of that ruin… something stirred.
A forgotten corpse — *wrapped in black cloth*, untouched for centuries.
Its eyes slowly *opened*.
A crimson glow pierced the dark, and a breath was drawn.
Daimon…
Was not done.
And the world would soon remember the weight of a god's return.