High above the reaches of mortal sight, where galaxies swirled like dust motes in the air, stood the Eternal Hall — the sanctum of the gods. A thousand stars floated in silence beyond its crystal windows, but inside the chamber, silence was broken by anger.
"The laws are unraveling!" thundered a god draped in fire, his form shifting like a living sun. "Since the beginning of all cycles, only one Monarch has ever been born each billion years. It is written. It is sacred!"
Across the table of constellations, another god leaned forward, his cloak woven from nebulae. His voice cut sharp through the hall. "And yet, in this single age, we count six. Six Monarchs walking under one sky, when there should be only one. Such a thing defies the rhythm of creation itself."
The fire god's flames flickered with agitation. "Six is already intolerable, but now…" His voice faltered, and even his light dimmed. "Now they speak of a thirteenth."
Murmurs rose like a storm. A thirteenth Monarch. The words themselves felt forbidden.
At the far end of the table, an elder god whose beard was woven of starlight raised his hand for silence. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, carrying the weight of countless eons.
"The Proface — the first script carved at the dawn of existence — names twelve. Twelve Monarchs, no more, no less. That is the balance, the foundation on which the Omniverse rests. If a thirteenth has appeared…" His gaze swept across the hall, cold and heavy. "Then we face a violation not only of prophecy, but of reality itself."
Another god, his body like fractured stone, growled. "The Omni King is behind this. Who else could twist fate so brazenly? His children already walk paths of impossible strength. And now a child without mana, born beneath his roof, suddenly bears the power of a Monarch? Convenient."
Whispers of agreement rippled.
"Perhaps it is not fate that crowned this thirteenth," sneered a goddess cloaked in serpents of silver. "Perhaps it is manipulation. Perhaps the Omni King intends to raise his spawn above the gods themselves."
The elder god's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Selith. Even the walls of this hall are not deaf. But…" He leaned forward, voice colder than the void. "…you are not wrong. The Omni King and Queen have ever stood at the summit of creation. If their child is the Thirteenth Monarch, then the scales are no longer merely tipped — they are shattered."
A heavy silence fell, each god lost in thought, each tasting the bitter edge of fear. For if the Proface was broken, then what else might fall apart?
Finally, the god of stone spoke again, his words like grinding mountains. "If the thirteenth truly exists, then the gods cannot remain idle. The Omni King must be… restrained."
The hall darkened, as if the stars outside had dimmed in fear of what had been spoken. One by one, the gods lowered their eyes, not daring to speak openly of rebellion, yet not rejecting the thought either.
For in their hearts, a truth had settled like a poison:
The Thirteenth Monarch was not a blessing.
He was a threat.