Chapter 152: The Blood Moon Descends, and the Underworld Kisses Back
Above him stretched the vast Sea of Stars, endlessly brilliant.
Behind him churned the surging lava of Tartarus, or perhaps it was more accurate to call it the Primordial Highest Heaven, the space hidden inside the dimensional interstice, unseen by ordinary people.
There was no doubt about it.
This was where Rowe had been before he encountered the Void Spirit.
Above the ground, at the outermost edge of the atmosphere.
One step away from the universe.
"So… how did I fail again?" Rowe fell into deep thought.
He had calculated everything. He had measured the process. Yet this result, this final factor, was the one thing he could not foresee.
Yahweh, or rather, the Void Spirit, had been ready to kill him.
For Him, killing Rowe should have been as casual as brushing away a speck of dust.
He was an existence at least stronger than a fully powered Chaos. Three percent of stellar scale Chaos could destroy a primordial grade Zeus with a single glance. Killing Rowe, who was still half a step away from primordial, should have been effortless.
But He had not killed him directly.
Instead, He chose a process.
A test.
A thousand lifetimes.
Ten thousand lifetimes.
Rowe sought death again and again, and failed again and again.
Then, at the end, he somehow passed.
"I X & % ¥ # @ …"
Feeling the even vaster power inside him, Rowe was equal parts amused and exasperated.
There was no doubt.
He really had become Yahweh.
The Void Spirit had bestowed upon him the name of the One God. The fusion of countless Spirit Origins across immeasurable lifetimes allowed him to glimpse the primordial scenery.
His strongest Machine God state advanced another half step on its existing foundation, truly reaching a primordial, star level specification.
Even his slightly weaker human form now carried the power of a primordial prototype.
A true planetary lifeform.
Equivalent to Tiamat, the Sea of Chaos in Mesopotamia.
Equivalent to the omnipotent god Zeus.
Compared to them, what Rowe lacked was not strength, but familiarity. Mastery. The ability to wield something too large for the hand that holds it.
For anyone else, for any other god, such an ascension would be enough to make them laugh until the heavens split.
For Rowe, it was still not as satisfying as death.
Fortunately, primordial did not mean truly immortal.
The path of seeking death still had room.
Still had a chance.
"Void Spirit, I will remember you," Rowe muttered, shaking out his hand as if the new power were an inconvenient weight.
His great cloak fluttered.
The returning Lord of a Myriad Armies, God of All Machines, still wore the same attire as before.
He removed the iron mask.
Golden red eyes looked down toward the earth below.
He gathered the changes of the world into his gaze.
His consciousness had experienced countless ages. To the void sea, it had been an instant.
How much time had passed in the present world?
Rowe did not know.
But the Nordic land visible from here was no longer the world immediately after Ragnarok, where old gods faded and new gods rose.
The perpetual snow and ice on the sea had melted. The layered snow mountains kept only their white caps.
Human settlements flourished.
Cities stood tall.
A gentle breeze drifted across the land. The Storm Pantheon patrolled between heaven and earth, no longer manifesting their bodies, but operating the rules of the stars through natural mechanisms alone.
The Star Gods were different from the gods of the Age of Gods.
Their foundation was the spark within their chests. They did not need faith to maintain their personalities, did not need humanity as fuel to remain themselves.
They existed.
Yet it was as if they did not.
Only occasionally would someone slip into a dream, meet a god, form a connection, and give birth to demigod offspring.
That was the proof that the Storm Pantheon still existed.
Rowe did not disturb them.
He only looked toward the Arctic.
There, the aurora shone brilliantly, and invisible ripples spread outward in layers.
The new rules, pinned by the Holy Spear, had taken root.
They were still expanding, swallowing the places where the Age of Gods had already receded. It was early, but the trend was obvious.
Someday, it would cover the entire globe.
All was well.
Everything was progressing exactly as Rowe had intended when he left.
The god who created rules for the planetary surface was, in a sense, unique.
And the name Yahweh, by a cruel twist of fate, had become deserved.
Rowe withdrew his sight with no intention of interfering.
He only searched for one shadow.
Skaði.
The goddess who had helped him.
"Sleeping… has she entered a metamorphosis?" Rowe saw her in the Land of Shadows.
She slept in the deepest part, under Scáthach's protection.
The Snow Mountain Goddess was undergoing a transformation of growth.
Rowe still did not disturb her.
He only shook his head, turned, and walked toward the Primordial Highest Heaven behind him.
Hm?
In the depths of the Land of Shadows, Scáthach suddenly opened her eyes.
She stood at once, her graceful, lithe figure tightening beneath her fitted clothes. Surprise flickered across her face beneath her long hair.
The aura had been fleeting.
Yet she had felt it.
"Hundreds of years have passed. Has that guy returned?"
"If he has returned, we will meet sooner or later."
"This time, in pure martial arts, I will not lose."
Scáthach looked eager to try.
In the Arctic, the place that would later be called Avalon, beneath the aurora, a pair of eyes slowly opened.
"Oh my. Such a familiar aura. Has the original owner of this place come?"
A beautiful figure, young and graceful, swayed among flowers that filled the space established and expanded by the Holy Spear.
White hair flowed.
Ruby like eyes held a hint of triumph as she stood atop a tower as white as ivory.
"But it seems He does not care about this place."
"That Storm God King. That One God. Yahweh."
"But that is good too. I drifted for hundreds of years and finally found a place to parasitize. I do not want to lose it."
"And it seems the world to come will become very exciting, will it not?"
"Quite a few monsters have been stirred."
"What do you say, Fou?"
"Fou!"
The small white beast shook, cowering at her feet, its terror unmistakable.
Fear of the returning existence.
Fear of the other existences that had reacted.
Deep beneath Avalon, massive antlers shifted.
The supreme god of Celtic myth, the Horned God Cernunnos, opened his eyes.
Outside the planet, on the moon, crisp electronic sounds rang out, and a gigantic cube appeared in faint outline.
It was the lunar computer that had once blocked the main body of the Star Hunter.
"Detecting the emergence of a new planetary lifeform on the surface. Detecting, detecting…"
"Mercury's sole lifeform. The will proxy of Mercury. The King of Mercury. Ultimate One."
"Correction. Oort Cloud Ultimate One approaching."
Buzzing followed.
A meteor fell, cutting across the vast expanse between worlds.
Far to the East, above a misty pavilion veiled by rain, nine golden fluffy tails swept the air.
Someone looked up at the moon and stars, voice frivolous and charming.
"Ara. It seems something very interesting has arrived."
The wavering voice lingered.
In the land where the Buddha descended, someone sat beneath a Bodhi tree with hands clasped, meditating.
Countless people.
Countless gods and demons.
All looked up at this moment.
Rowe's return was different from before.
Rowe, stepping into the Primordial Highest Heaven, sensed it all at once.
He quietly noted those existences.
Not out of fear.
Because they all possessed the ability to kill him.
Which meant they were potential targets for his next attempt at death seeking.
No matter how many times he failed, Rowe would not give up.
Yet he smiled anyway.
Because at this moment, the person beside him mattered more than all of them.
Within the lava covered world, a hazy mist that had not existed before began to spread.
It was caused by the gradual solidification of the lava.
The Tartarus of lava absorbed the primordial fire and the wish power from the surface. Just as the primordial world stabilized from chaos to order, this place also began an evolution from chaos into a celestial body.
The lava beneath his feet felt slightly firmer.
Rowe walked forward in human form.
"Aaaaaa!"
A crisp sound rose from the depths.
It was the voice of the Mother Goddess Tiamat, still learning to speak.
Then another voice followed, panicked.
"Eh, eh, eh. Do not come closer."
Golden hair swept through the air.
A figure dodged and fled like a hamster cornered by fate itself.
Ereshkigal was terrified of the one chasing her from behind.
In her impression, Mother Goddess Tiamat was an existence that destroyed gods.
Mesopotamia's gods had long since dispersed. Those who remained hid within the Sea of Stars.
But impressions like that did not vanish.
Fear like that did not fade.
Even if Ereshkigal had once tried desperately to catch up, even if she had prepared to fight, that had been for Rowe.
For the one beloved by the goddess who had given her warmth.
Now, meeting the other again, she no longer had that purpose.
Nor that courage.
Fear was natural.
Avoidance was natural.
Under the primordial suppression of the Mother Goddess who had given birth to the gods, Ereshkigal did not even think to question why Tiamat was here, even though this was clearly Rowe's world.
In a blink, Ereshkigal saw Rowe approaching.
"Rowe, save me, uwah!"
She threw herself at him, shrinking into his embrace, trembling as she clung to him.
Rowe froze.
He had not expected that after so many years, Ereshkigal would still be this afraid of Tiamat.
Then he met Tiamat's eyes.
Pink, star like.
Full of confusion as she chased after them.
Rowe could not help it.
He laughed.
It started low, then grew louder, as if it refused to be contained.
Tiamat tilted her head.
Her eyes asked a simple question.
What is wrong with you?
"Damn it. How dare you laugh at me."
Cowering in Rowe's arms, Ereshkigal felt his warmth, his presence. Her fear eased. Realization dawned.
If Tiamat were truly hostile, Rowe would not be laughing.
Her cheeks puffed slightly.
A blush spread across her beautiful face.
Even without understanding everything, the laughter annoyed her.
"No, nothing," Rowe said, waving a hand as if dismissing the entire absurdity of the scene.
Tiamat's expression softened.
A faint smile appeared.
Ereshkigal peeked up at once and saw it.
She froze in surprise.
It was right to be surprised.
The primordial Mother Goddess carried resentment toward all things. Without the concept of life and death, she should not have emotions like this.
Then a gentle touch landed on Ereshkigal's head.
Tiamat bent down, looking at her with eyes that were gentle and loving.
Be good too.
Ereshkigal stared blankly.
Then her blush deepened to near crimson.
The Mother Goddess is stroking me.
Did she forgive me?
Forgive me, who was once among the gods who betrayed her?
"Wake up. Mother Goddess Tiamat has already left."
Rowe shook Ereshkigal lightly.
The Goddess of the Underworld blinked, still dazed, still stunned.
"Eh?"
Only then did she realize she had been staring for a long time.
Tiamat had already drifted away.
The Mother Goddess, hair like seawater, resonated with this Primordial Highest Heaven. Her graceful dragon scaled body swayed and bloomed.
Sometimes she bent down, shifting her perky rear back, revealing the butterfly wing curve of her back.
Sometimes she stretched lazily, slender waist twisting, showing a beauty that looked almost indecent under lava light.
Like a curious child.
Innocent.
Pure.
The Mother Goddess had found her home.
Ereshkigal smiled.
Because she knew.
Was she not the same?
"Rowe."
Still curled in his embrace, her red shawl swaying, her slender waist resting against him, she lifted her head.
"What…"
Rowe's unspoken question died.
Ereshkigal suddenly leaned up and kissed him.
Vermilion lips.
Moist and soft.
Her eyelashes trembled close enough to be felt.
Her face was flushed.
Yet there was no retreat.
She had wanted to do this for a long time.
She had hoped to do this for a long time.
Ereshkigal repeated it in her heart.
In the thousand years after leaving Mesopotamia, in constant longing and wandering.
She once thought she had obtained the sun.
She believed she could become the sun of the Underworld.
But it was not until she left Rowe that she understood.
The sun in her heart was his shadow.
He was her light and her shadow.
She liked him.
A love like the world embracing the sun.
"Aaaaa."
Tiamat looked over again, head tilted, delicate face confused.
The lava Tartarus, now threaded with condensed fiery currents, undulated between mud that still surged and firelight that still breathed.
Crimson light and shadow spread across the present world, draping the sky like an unseen veil.
People could not see it.
But they could feel it.
A crimson shadow covering the heavens.
"A blood moon hangs across the sky, the Greedy Wolf star is in the north. Great ill omen, suitable for war."
"Great Qin shall march eastward, sweeping away the six states."
Above a majestic palace, someone looked up at the blood moon.
"Long live Great Qin!" someone cheered beside him. "Heaven's mandate has been revealed. The world shall belong to Great Qin."
"Nonsense," the one in black Xuan robes replied, "and yet also the truth."
A Xuan bird spread its wings behind him. A beaded crown swayed upon his head as his gaze lowered.
"Tonight's moonlight is excellent."
"This humble one once heard there were immortals in the world. Immortal, ageless, eternal. Yet now they have all disappeared."
"Li Si."
"Do you know where the immortals have gone now?"
Note to Readers
Rowe's journey is about to shift into a Chinese mythology and Chinese historical arc.
Before we go there, I want to be crystal clear: I'll be cutting any "China number one" lines, along with nationalism, bias, or propaganda. This arc is about myth, history, and worldbuilding, not agendas.
I also understand some readers strongly dislike China based settings. I respect that. If this next direction isn't for you, it's completely okay to stop here with no hard feelings. If you want a clean stopping point, you can treat this moment as the ending: Rowe has reached a primordial level of existence, and he lives peacefully ever after.
But if your only concern is the setting, I'm asking for a little patience.
This isn't "China forever." The Chinese arc is only one stretch of Rowe's long journey. If you hang on until Chapter 193, the story pivots again and Rowe's next major journey moves into Roman mythology, leaving the China focused setting behind.
And I'll be honest I've explained this a lot more than I expected. I don't really get why the word "China" instantly turns some people off, especially when the arc is being written clean and myth centered. Still, your reading experience matters, so I'd rather be upfront than bait anyone into something they won't enjoy.
Either way, thank you for reading and supporting my work. Whether you continue into the next arc or step away here, I appreciate you.
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