ArchPriest Leon pressed both palms against the monumental door, whispering a string of ancient prayers in a language even Alice could not recognize. One by one, the six sigils carved into the metal ignited with blinding light.
Then the chamber opened.
A blast of pressure exploded outward — like a silent roar made of raw divinity.
Alice gasped, her knees buckling beneath the sheer spiritual weight. She would have collapsed if Jericho hadn't caught her waist in time, pulling her close before the force swallowed her whole.
Even Jericho's breath hitched for a second.
Even him.
The wave clawed at his lungs, pressing on his bones, vibrating through his veins — but within moments, he steadied himself, adjusting to the divine force as naturally as breathing.
ArchPriest Leon, though prepared, still trembled faintly as he finished his prayer. His eyes glimmered with awe.
When the pressure settled, Leon straightened, turning to Jericho with both respect and fear wrapped into one expression.
"Will you be taking the Ore away?" the ArchPriest asked quietly. "Is that why you requested it?"
Jericho shook his head immediately.
"No. I have no intention of removing it." He looked toward the glowing chamber beyond. "The Six Gods told me that if I ever needed their guidance, I could reach them using the Evolgia Ore. Nothing more."
Leon blinked, stunned — and relieved.
Jericho continued, his voice steady and sure.
"Where the Ore rests now… is perfect. Safe. Sacred. This place was chosen by the gods themselves. I will not disturb what they've ordained."
Slowly, with a soft, peaceful breath, the ArchPriest bowed his head.
A lighter bow than before — but one filled with gratitude.
"As you will, my lord."
Jericho inhaled deeply, the divine wind brushing against his skin like warm snow. Then he turned his gaze toward the chamber's interior.
"I'm ready," he said.
Leon nodded. "May their divine light guide you."
Alice stepped closer, still a little breathless but determined, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good luck, Jericho… I'll be waiting."
He gave her a small, reassuring smile — warm enough to melt the trembling in her chest — and then nodded once.
Without hesitating, Jericho stepped through the threshold.
As soon as he crossed, he placed his hands against the inside of the massive door. With a powerful push—
BOOM
—he shut it behind him, sealing himself inside the holy chamber of the Evolgia Ore.
Outside, the light faded, the echoes calmed, and Alice and Leon stood in the vast silence…
…waiting for Jericho as he entered a realm where time itself bowed to the gods.
Jericho advanced toward the ore, each step echoing faintly in the sacred chamber. The closer he drew, the heavier the air became—thick with ancient divinity. He placed both hands upon the ore's cold, shimmering surface, closed his eyes, and let his breath settle.
A radiant glow rippled around his body. Then, in a flash of weightless brilliance, his consciousness was pulled away—drawn upward to Ego Elysium.
When his eyes opened again, he stood before the six gods themselves.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The gods greeted him with warm, familiar ease.
Nea Zoi was the first to speak. "Already? You got in touch faster than I expected," he teased.
Meta shot him an elbow to the side. "Don't ruin the reunion by being a Nea Zoi."
He folded over in mild pain. "What is that supposed to mean…?"
She ignored him completely, turning her bright gaze to Jericho. "It's good to see you again."
Desmos stepped forward next, his tone full of proud amusement. "Jericho, well done. Unlocking Mercury Manipulation… I truly didn't think you'd get that one. Even among us, it's rare. Honestly, I nearly bet you'd awaken gravity instead." He laughed. "Shows what I know."
Nea Zoi raised a brow. "If he leaned toward the rare ability, it's probably because he's a sub-god carrying six divine blessings."
Nous nodded. "Indeed. That has never happened before. No being has ever been deemed worthy of more than two blessings… yet here you stand with six. The first—and perhaps the last—ever to bear such favor. You will one day surpass the strength of an ordinary sub-god. If you haven't already."
Desmos lifted a finger. "Though, let's not forget—one god carries three blessings."
The others paused. He continued with a sigh. "Which is shocking, considering who he is. Two of those blessings were from the supreme gods themselves—the All Father, and the God of the Underworld, his younger brother. He remains the only god in existence with that privilege."
At that, every divine gaze shifted toward the god in question.
Nea Zoi blinked, suddenly alert, and began to panic under their stares. "Whatever you're thinking—I didn't do any of it!"
Jericho couldn't help it. He laughed.
Jericho's laughter faded, and with it came the question that had been tugging at his thoughts since their first reunion. He straightened, offering a respectful bow—careful, measured, making sure he wasn't overstepping.
"If I may," he began, "I have heard all of you speak of the All Father many times… but who is he? And what exactly are the Supreme Gods? Why are their titles different from yours?"
Bios stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Jericho's shoulder.
"You're not crossing any line," he said gently. "You are one of us now. Curiosity is expected."
He drew a breath. "The All Father is the supreme ruler of all gods and all universes—"
Nea Zoi immediately cut in. "He's like a king from your world," he said, waving his hands for emphasis. "Except instead of ruling people, he rules gods. A king of kings."
Bios nodded, amused by the simpler explanation. "In essence, yes. He is our king. The ultimate ruler of creation."
Zoe took over, stepping nearer with an almost teacher-like poise. "Here in Ego Elysium, Jericho, there are five divine titles. Five ranks that decide a god's authority, purpose, and privilege."
Bios lifted a hand and continued the breakdown.
"The first is Sub-God," he said. "Which is where you currently stand. It's the lowest rank, granted when one receives a blessing from a True God. Most never reach even this far."
Jericho bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment.
"The next rank is True God," Bios said, motioning to the six of them. "All of us here. One becomes a True God only after receiving the blessing of the All Father. It grants a god the right—and the burden—to oversee a world. A single world is a responsibility most beings can't fathom."
Jericho's eyes widened subtly. Even now, the weight of his own powers was something he still struggled to comprehend.
"Then," Bios continued, "comes the Elder God."
"To earn that title," Bios added, "a true god must already brought genuine prosperity to the world they govern. Only Elder Gods may join the All Father's council… and if they are fortunate, they may catch a glimpse of him."
Jericho's jaw dropped slightly. "You mean… even you haven't seen him?"
Bios shook his head. "None of us have. And we cannot—not until we reach Elder God or beyond. Even then, it is not promised."
Jericho swallowed, overwhelmed.
"The next rank," Bios went on, "guarantees an audience with the All Father. That's the Greater God. A god personally chosen by the All Father to act as his Right Hand—what your world would call a Viceroy or a Prime Minister. One with the authority to stand in his place, to oversee everything on his behalf. Only one being in all existence can hold that role at a time."
Jericho exhaled a hushed, reverent, "Wow…"
Finally, Desmos stepped in to give the last piece.
"And at the peak," he said, "is the Supreme Gods. They are three, but it's only two we currently recognize—that's the All Father, and his younger brother, the God of the Underworld. Gods of that rank are… beyond comprehension. Omnipotent, all-knowing. Their power shapes life itself. Every blessing we wield originates from them."
He shrugged with a helpless smile. "No one knows how one becomes a Supreme God. Some say they existed before creation… and will outlive its end."
Jericho stood in stunned silence—fascinated, humbled, overwhelmed. He had more questions, especially about why they only recognize two supreme god when they are three, but he didn't want to push it.
Awe shimmered in his eyes as he looked upon the gods before him, realizing just how vast the divine hierarchy truly was.
Jericho bowed his head deeply. "Thank you… all of you. For granting me this knowledge."
Nous stepped forward, arms folded loosely, her voice carrying its usual calm authority.
"It was no trouble," she assured him. "And it was knowledge you needed. There are still many things you must learn—things concerning Pluto… his true intentions, and what pushed him onto the path he now walks."
A faint shadow crossed her expression.
"But that will come when the time is right," she said. "For now, we focus on one thing at a time."
She tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening with curiosity.
"Which brings us to this: what made you seek us out so early, Jericho?"
The other gods turned their attention to him, their welcoming warmth replaced by a focused silence. Even Nea Zoi—usually half-lost in his own thoughts—straightened with interest.
The air around Jericho seemed to settle, inviting his answer.
"Things on Earth…" he began, voice low, "are far worse than I thought."
The gods' expressions sharpened.
"Jace now has willing allies. Entire groups choosing to follow him. And the creatures he commands…" Jericho shook his head. "They don't feel mortal. They don't feel divine. They feel… wrong. They're overrunning forests—territories that should be untouchable. And because of Pluto's chaos four years ago, the nations are fractured. Distrust has turned into hatred. Some of them have already aligned with Jace."
He looked up, meeting each god's eyes one by one.
"Earth is walking a razor's edge. Everyone is in danger. So I need to gather momentum of my own—and I came for your guidance."
The gods remained utterly silent for a moment, exchanging weighty glances that only beings older than creation could share.
They knew what does creatures were, but felt it wasn't the right time to tell Jericho.
Bios was the first to speak.
"As the savior of mankind," he said gently, "tell us—do you have a plan in mind? We guide, Jericho. But the decisions are yours to make."
Jericho nodded instantly. "Yes. I've already felt how soul energy has awakened across the world. Some people radiate enormous potential. Others… nothing at all. I needed to know if that difference was normal, because it determines my next move."
Meta stepped forward, folding her hands.
"It is normal," she said. "Even in the generation destined to wield it, some will never reach it—no matter how much they train. Not because we withheld anything. As you know, all living beings possess soul energy. But in some, it remains too dormant, too buried to ever awaken."
Jericho nodded slowly, thinking.
Desmos asked the question hovering in the air. "So what is your plan?"
Jericho breathed in, steadying himself.
"With the world in chaos, facing Jace alone is impossible. I need help—real allies. I want to train those with the potential to control soul energy. I've met people already who are… extraordinary. Worthy. People I'd be honored to fight beside."
The gods all exchanged quiet, approving smiles.
Nous lifted her chin slightly. "Then you've come because you realized these humans will need a catalyst—a vessel capable of safely channeling soul energy. You wish to know the material best suited to withstand such force."
Jericho beamed and nodded. "Exactly. As expected from the Goddess of Wisdom."
A faint blush touched Nous' cheeks. "Well… it is my domain," she said, proud and flustered all at once. The others chuckled.
Jericho continued, "I was thinking of something like the material used in the Holy Church—the material in the elevator, and the door sealing the Elvogia Ore… Speaking of that, where did it even come from?"
Bios' expression softened with something old and heavy.
"That is… another truth you must know as a sub god. But not now. The story is long. It shaped the world more than you can imagine—and it ties to Pluto, the ruins beneath the church, and many things that are not yet your burden. I promise we will tell you… when the time is right."
Jericho bowed respectfully.
Zoe stepped in. "But as for the material you seek—the catalyst—you sensed correctly. It comes from a star that died long ago: the Luxton Star."
Meta nodded. "Yes. Perfect for binding soul energy. Light, durable, and immensely reactive. Very difficult to forge, but with the advancement in innovation now on the earth, a skilled blacksmith might manage."
Then, of course, Nea Zoi broke the calm.
"Only one problem," he said, lifting a finger. "The only remaining Luxton Star fragment is in a place humans can barely reach—or survive. What do they call it now…? Mist Gate? Mist Garden? Mist-Misty… something. It was once the Island nation of Terys."
Nous sighed at him. "Mist: The Island of Fiery Mountains."
Nea Zoi perked up instantly. "Yes! That one! Humans are so good at naming places." He spun toward Jericho with a mischievous grin. "Unlike someone."
The gods chuckled as Jericho rubbed his face in embarrassment.
"Oh come on," he muttered. "Not you guys too…"
Their laughter echoed across the divine hall, lightening the tension—if only for a heartbeat.
Jericho's brows knitted as old memories surfaced—half-forgotten whispers, the kinds of stories children traded beneath blankets when the lamps went out.
"Terys…" he muttered. "I remember hearing tales about it. But they were always unbelievable—like ghost stories. I thought none of it was real."
Desmos gave a soft, knowing chuckle.
"Oh, it's real," he said. "Very real. It is now one of the most treacherous regions of Earth. A massive island sitting between the ocean borders of the Drakziel continent and the Human continent. That island is the reason the two continents don't collide. It divides them like a wall—both borders begin and end with it."
He folded his arms.
"It's what the mortals now call a no man's land. No human can survive there for long—not even if they begged to. That is why neither the Drakziel nor the humans ever tried to claim it."
Zoe stepped forward, her expression growing grave.
"And there is an even greater reason," she added quietly, "why no one has ever attempted to conquer it."
Jericho looked up, sensing the weight in her voice.
"That island," she continued, "is the home of a Greater Dragon. Teleftaia Mera—the Dragon of Last Days."
Jericho froze.
"What…? Greater dragons? They exist?"
His voice cracked with disbelief.
"I thought they were bedtime stories—mythical beasts parents made up to keep their children from sneaking out at night. They're supposed to be heavenly creatures—and no heavenly beast should exist on Earth, not in the mortal realm."
He rubbed his forehead, exhaling sharply.
"That makes things… complicated. If a Greater Dragon lives there, then how am I supposed to—"
Nea Zoi cut in with a dramatic sigh and a lazy wave of his hand.
"Yes, they exist. Several, actually." He grinned as Jericho's jaw dropped further. "Your Earth currently has four Greater Dragons."
Jericho almost choked.
Nea Zoi lifted a finger.
"But that's a story for another day."
He leaned back, giving Jericho a reassuring—albeit smug—smile.
"And relax. You're a sub god now—not a regular one either. You're a sub god who carries enough divine weight to rival a true god. You'll be fine."
He shrugged.
"And besides… Teleftaia Mera or not, the chances of you running into the Dragon of Last Days are very slim. The island is massive. You'd have to have truly horrible luck to stumble right into her."
He paused, then added under his breath:
"…which, granted, you do sometimes have—"
"Nea Zoi," Meta warned, elbowing him sharply.
"Ow! I'm just being honest!"
Despite everything—despite the danger, the stakes, the impossible quests ahead—Jericho couldn't help smiling as the gods bickered.
Their warmth… their concern… their faith in him…
It steadied his resolve.
Even if his words were meant to comfort Jericho, Nea Zoi spoke with such confidence only because he still believed Mera remained there, in Ego Elysium.
Jericho sighed. "I just hope you didn't jinx me, Lord Nea Zoi…"
Nous stepped forward, calm and reassuring.
"Have faith in your abilities, Jericho. Nea Zoi may be careless in speech, but he is right—you will be fine."
Jericho bowed gratefully. "Thank you, Lady Nous. I understand what my task is now. I should head back to begin preparing."
But before he could take another step, Bios raised a hand.
"One more thing," he said warmly. "Before you go, I have a tip that will help you master your abilities much faster. The memories we granted you only teach you how to summon your power. But if you want to truly flourish with it—to become one with it—then listen carefully."
Jericho straightened immediately, eyes gleaming with full attention.
Bios smiled.
"One word: imagination."
Jericho blinked. "…That's it?"
He wasn't expecting something so simple. It felt almost underwhelming.
Bios chuckled softly.
"You overthink your powers. You force them. But soul abilities aren't meant to be wrestled into shape. Calm yourself. Breathe. Execute. Let your imagination lead your energy. Shape it with intention, not strain."
Jericho considered that—and realized, embarrassed, that he had indeed been forcing it every time.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Thank you, Lord Bios. I'll practice it every day."
Before he could step away, Desmos lifted a finger.
"And another thing," he added. "Meditation. If you meditate more often, you'll connect deeper with your own soul energy. That connection will help you unlock your remaining abilities sooner. But hear this clearly, Jericho—if the ability I gave you begins to manifest… do not use it until you come speak to me first."
Jericho nodded solemnly. "Understood. Thank you."
Zoe's smile softened with a hint of sadness.
"That is all the time we have for now."
Jericho bowed deeply to all six gods.
"Thank you—truly."
His consciousness began to pull away, drifting back toward the mortal world—
"GOOD LUCK WITH THE LADIES, JERICHO! — YOU WILL NEED IT!."
Nea Zoi shouted after him, laughter ringing like silver bells.
Jericho's face flared crimson.
"WHAT!?… WHAT DO YOU MEAN LORD NEA ZOI!?— WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN!!??—!"
But he vanished mid-protest, his voice fading into the ether.
The gods burst into laughter.
As their amusement settled into gentle smiles, Nea Zoi's expression suddenly darkened.
The others turned to him immediately.
"What is it?" Nous asked.
Nea Zoi rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy.
"Uh… I just remembered. Mera… was sent back home around the period we reincarnated Jericho."
Zoe inhaled sharply.
"oh no. You are right. I can feel her presence on Earth again."
Nea Zoi raised both hands defensively.
"Hey—hey—don't worry. Jericho's strong. It's a huge island. The odds of him running into her are extremely slim. And even if he does run into her—he's a beast! No offense to him. He's strong enough to handle her."
Bios nodded slowly.
"You're right about his strength… but now I'm really, really hoping you didn't just jinx him."
Meta sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead.
"It's Nea Zoi. He absolutely just jinxed him."
Nea Zoi threw his hands up.
"For crying out loud—can you all give me a break?!"