A shockwave erupted where the GodKing and his disciple had plummeted, the smoke clearing in a frenzied rush like a curtain torn aside by unseen hands. There they stood—unscathed, a pillar of defiance amid the chaos—the GodKing releasing his grip from her waist as Ezmelral's lookalike joined him, their gazes lifting to the towering beast dominating the void sky.
The Void Realm rumbled then, as if the darkness itself spoke—a deep, resonant vibration that shook the obsidian ground beneath their feet.
"GodKing," the voice intoned, a sound that seemed to claw its way from the abyss.
The GodKing narrowed his brows, his helmeted face tilting slightly as he muttered under his breath, "Void Emperor..."
Above, a colossal eye unfurled in the void's sky—a vast, golden orb that pulsed with ancient malice, its pupil dilating like a predator sizing its prey. Ezmelral's lookalike stared into the abyss, her mind and eyes churning in a disorienting triangular rhythm, vertigo threatening to overwhelm her senses. In response, her Bloodline mark pulsed faintly, its crimson glow stabilizing her focus like a lifeline pulled taut, anchoring her back to clarity.
"W-what was that?" she gasped, her voice trembling as she steadied herself.
"The Void Emperor's gaze," the GodKing replied, his tone low and grave. "Mortals were not forged to stare into the abyss—it unravels the mind."
High above, the Void Emperor's voice boomed once more, its words dripping with mockery. "Why do you trespass in my domain, GodKing? Shouldn't the legendary conqueror be soaring the Cosmos, battling for the Cosmic Will's fleeting recognition?"
The GodKing ignored the taunt, his stance unwavering as he raised his voice, cutting through the void's oppressive weight. "I am here to make a deal with you."
"Oh?" the Void Emperor purred, its tone laced with intrigue and disdain. "What could I possess that the mighty GodKing lacks?"
The GodKing's voice cut through the oppressive void, steady and unyielding. "Sever your ties to the Cosmic Realm... for fifteen years."
As those words echoed, Ezmelral's lookalike felt her heart flutter—stirring a memory from a year ago that surged to the forefront of her mind like a tidal wave breaking through a dam.
---
The Past
She had rushed through the Great Temple, her footsteps echoing off ancient stone as she searched high and low for the GodKing. He was nowhere to be found within its hallowed halls, so she darted outside, her breath quickening with urgency. There he stood, conversing with the Sacred Tree—its massive branches swaying gently, leaves whispering secrets to the wind.
She yelled out, her voice carrying across the temple grounds as she sprinted toward them. "I've found a method!"
The GodKing turned to face her, his helmeted gaze locking onto her as she skidded to a halt before him, breathless but alight with determination. She declared, "I've composed a strategy to overcome the Seed of Corruption," and thrust a bundle of papers into his hands—her research, meticulously scribbled notes from her planet's history and her own insights, trembling slightly as she offered them up.
He read through her work with deliberate care, his armored fingers turning each page. She watched, hope and anxiety warring in her eyes. Finally, he looked up, his helmeted gaze meeting hers.
"Flawed," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "But it has merit. It could work, within the right framework."
Her face lit up with incandescent relief. In a burst of impulsive joy, she reached out and grasped his hands, her fingers wrapping around the cold, star-forged metal that held her future. "Really?" she breathed.
The hope in her eyes was palpable, a beacon born from countless non-practice hours spent poring over methods and systems—blending the GodKing's disciplined tutelage with her own mortal awareness, a fusion of divine and human ingenuity.
But her joy faltered, a slight frown eclipsing her bright smile. "But..." she added, her voice softening, "it requires at least fifteen years. Will my people have that much time?"
The GodKing held her pleading gaze, the silence stretching between them, heavy with the fate of worlds. Then came a rare, human sound—a soft exhale, a sigh of commitment.
"I will figure out a solution," he promised.
---
The Present
The memory shattered, dissolving back into the chilling darkness of the Void Realm. But the echo of that promise remained, now given form and action. There he stood, before the Void Emperor, upholding the vow he had made to her a year ago.
"A deal goes both ways, does it not, GodKing?" the Void Emperor's voice boomed, its tone dripping with sardonic amusement, the colossal eye above pulsing with a mocking golden gleam that illuminated the void's depths.
Outside the Void Realm, Ezmelral watched through the projection, her breath catching as the scene unfolded. With a decisive chop of his right arm, the GodKing severed his own limb—a loud thud resounding as it struck the obsidian ground, sending a shockwave of gasps and murmurs rippling through the arena. The crowd's faces paled, eyes wide with disbelief at the sacrifice laid bare before them.
The GodKing, his stance unwavering despite the loss, declared with iron resolve, "Do with it what you will." The entire Void Realm rumbled in response, the air thickening with a primal hunger as the scent of his divine blood—rich with cosmic essence—permeated the darkness, stirring the voidlings into a frenzied whisper.
The Void Emperor let out another mocking laugh, its voice a grating echo that shook the realm. "How is whatever you seek to accomplish worth this?" it taunted, the golden eye narrowing with derision.
"It is worth it," the GodKing replied, his tone unyielding, a quiet certainty that brooked no argument.
Ezmelral's lookalike stood beside him, her sorrowful expression barely concealed as she fought the urge to rush to his side and check his injury—her hands trembling with the instinct to heal. But she knew better; displaying sentiment before an enemy was a fatal misstep. With disciplined restraint, she held herself steady, her gaze fixed ahead, masking the ache in her chest.
Another laugh spilled from the Void Emperor, this one tinged with grudging acceptance, as it agreed to the conditions. "So be it." The Void Commander—Vorrath, the Devouring Apex—retreated into the nothingness, its wraith-heads dissolving into shadow, while the Void Emperor's massive eye lingered, watching them with an unblinking stare as they prepared to leave through the portal, its golden gaze a silent promise of future reckoning.
Once outside the Void Realm, Ezmelral's lookalike released her hold.
The crushing gravitational field unraveled, dissipating like a lifted veil; the air, long pressed under unseen weight, sighed back into balance.
Solomon slumped forward, his body trembling, consciousness clawing its way back through ragged, gasping breaths. The pact was sealed. Across the boundless cosmos, every tether that linked the Void-wielding Entities to that dark dimension snapped in unison—threads of corruption severed in a single, echoing instant.
His portals collapsed one by one with a deep, resonant whump, their edges folding inward until only silence remained.
The Eldest Elder was at his side in moments, his face carved from fury and disbelief as his gaze locked on the GodKing. Yet beneath that rage lay an immutable truth—one that chained his defiance before it could ignite. Even united, their strength had proven insufficient. With a guttural growl of resentment, he shouldered his son's limp form and leapt from the arena, vanishing toward the healing sanctums of the capital.
The aftermath rippled like a stormfront. His followers—Void-touched loyalists and newly disempowered enemies alike—dispersed in silent, seething retreat, a dark migration of bitterness streaking across the skies toward the city.
But from those who remained, a thunderous cheer rose, rolling through the coliseum like a living wave. Relief mingled with disbelief—voices crying out not just in triumph, but in deliverance. The Void Realm had long been more than myth: it was terror itself, a shadow told to frighten children, a wound in the fabric of existence. Now, it was sealed—banished from reach for fifteen years.
For the first time in eons, the cosmos exhaled.
Then, through that jubilation, Caeruleus stepped forward. Her feet barely touched the fractured stone, her luminescent wings shedding ripples of calm light as she approached the arena's heart. The crowd's roar softened to reverent hush.
She raised her head, eyes shimmering with the quiet resolve of an ocean before a storm. Her voice, cool and resonant, cut clean through the stillness:
"I forfeit."