The golden light lingered, fading like a memory as the realm stilled.
Frazaris stood, wings now hidden, his gaze turned to the heavens.
"I am not permitted to speak of it," he said, voice hushed with divine restraint. "The gods have denied me this truth."
A silence followed — deep and reverent — until the air shifted.
A soft ripple shimmered through the garden.
Jiya appeared.
The crimson mist that once bound her had dissolved. She stepped forward — barefoot, eyes wide — as if awakened from a long dream. Karlos's breath caught.
"Jiya…" he whispered.
She turned, and for a heartbeat, the war, the pain, the betrayals all vanished.
Karlos, her uncle, ran to her and pulled her into his arms. She clutched him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder.
Kell took a single step forward, then stopped. He said nothing. Only looked — heart bare, eyes shining. Jiya met his gaze, and her lips trembled.
The Butler, silent and composed, bowed deeply. "Lady Jiya… you are safe. That is all that matters."
Behind them, Luo emerged slowly, his face aged not by time but by burden. Ru followed, pale and watchful.
Kell turned to them. "Mother… Father."
Luo's jaw tightened. Ru blinked rapidly, then rushed to embrace her son.
Karlos stepped back, taking Kell by the shoulder. "You're stronger than I imagined. What Jacob did… none of it defines you."
The Butler added gently, "And you are not alone anymore."
Frazaris exhaled. The air shimmered. A figure stepped out from the light — robed in flowing silver, with a helm of crystal flame.
"A messenger," Frazaris said. "The gods have sent witness."
The figure offered no words, but the scent of incense and distant stars followed it. As it stood, unmoving, the veils between worlds seemed to shiver.
Luo stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the Butler.
"Old friend," he said, tone half-grave, half-fond. "Still playing the part of the loyal shadow."
The Butler blinked. "Luo… Ghost of the Black Wastes. I never thought it was truly you."
They stood silently, then embraced like warriors reunited after decades.
"We hunted each other through seven nations," Luo said.
"And failed every time," the Butler smiled faintly.
"Until we both got too old to care."
Laughter followed — weary, real. The room softened.
Jacob stepped forward, expression stunned.
"That man… you… were the ghost? I never knew."
"Few do," Luo replied. "Some truths wait decades to be told."
Then Frazaris raised his hand, and the sky shimmered.
"The gods have spoken. A new era must begin. Every living being — animal, man, or plant blessed by spiritual essence — must be taken. Sent to realms where they may evolve, grow, and choose their fates anew."
From his robes, Frazaris drew forth the Heart of Migration — a crystalline orb woven with golden vines, inscribed with celestial runes. It pulsed with soft rhythm, like the heartbeat of creation, and whispered with the language of starlight.
He raised it above his head. The orb spun, releasing threads of starlight that danced across the air. The realm around them became transparent, woven with mirrors of possibility.
Winds sang with the voices of old gods. Like the echo of the Scroll of Nine Dawns.
Beasts howled joyfully in distant forests. The earth beneath them bloomed, golden and green.
One by one, those chosen began to vanish:
— Luo and Ru, hand-in-hand, disappeared into the Dao World, their forms trailing ribbons of ancient wind.
— Jiya, her eyes full of light, ascended in a spiral of violet flame toward the Immortal God Realms.
— Karlos, smiling with tears in his eyes, gave a final nod to Jacob before vanishing into the Mana World, armor gleaming with legacy.
— The Wolves, each bathed in the light of their affinity, stepped into realms shaped by their unique Dao and strengths.
— Jacob, finally, stood alone. He turned once to Frazaris. "If I am granted another chance… I will face the ruin I left behind."
Then he too vanished, drawn into the Dao World.
Only Kell remained.
He looked at his hands. No glow. No light. No realm.
Frazaris turned to him.
"You have no power, Kell. Not yet."
Kell looked up, confused and hurt. "Then why… why didn't I go?"
Frazaris placed a hand over his heart. "Because the gods have not decided where you belong. Not because you are less — but because you are more than anyone knows."
The boy said nothing.
He only looked to the place Jiya had vanished. His breath shivered.
Frazaris stepped beside him. They stood beneath the cherry tree, now stripped bare, petals scattered like memory.
The Messenger of the Gods turned once — helm gleaming — and murmured, "The pivot turns… and the third spiral has begun."
They looked at the empty world together.
And somewhere deep in the cosmos, a voice whispered:
"The true story… begins now."...
"In this world, there is no place that belongs to me. Even if it's just as a laborer, or for the simplest of tasks… please, give me something. I want to see them again," Kell whispered, his face wet with tears. His heart trembled, sensing a fleeting warmth—someone's presence.
Frazaris said nothing. His face was expressionless, cold, and devoid of emotion. Then, without a word, he ascended into the sky, disappearing into the Immortal God Realm. Only his afterimage remained—a silhouette bathed in celestial light, like an angel cloaked in ancient dust, emanating an aura lost to time.
Kell simply stood there, watching. Questions swirled in his heart.
Why is it always like this? Is this my end? I have no powers… No matter how hard I try, I'll never reach that place.
Tears welled in his eyes as the echoes of the past returned—voices that had once tormented him. The cruel words of those who belittled him came flooding back: "You are nothing. Useless. A burden on this world. You don't deserve to live."
In the silence of the abandoned sect, those haunting voices echoed louder than ever. He felt himself sinking into a sea of darkness. And yet, he walked on—each step dragging the weight of memories too old to forget. The deserted halls of the sect became corridors of ghosts. His face was marked with despair.
He wandered without purpose, through the sect's abandoned structures, over cliffs and ravines, through forests once thunderous with war. For three days, without food or rest, he kept walking. His muscles wasted, his eyes sunken and hollow. In this silent world, only the rustle of leaves and the wind's breath reached him. The thunder and lightning crashing above tore at his heart with helpless sorrow.
No one listened. No one understood. He knew—Frazaris had said those comforting words only to offer him peace. "You are special." But even Kell didn't believe them.
And that was the truth.
With each passing moment, he remembered only the people he loved—the ones he feared he would never see again. The rain soaked him to his bones, but even it couldn't silence the storm within. His cries were louder than the mountains, his doubts deeper than the ravines.
Three days passed, and he hadn't spoken a single word.
Finally, standing beneath the rain that had not stopped since Frazaris departed, he whispered:
"Perhaps… this is where I remain, until the end. But please, my Lord… let those I love be happy."
"Maybe I am special, or maybe I'm not… but whatever makes me me, is mine alone. Maybe this was always my fate—to walk alone, to belong only to myself. Maybe that's what destiny wanted. I was useless once… I still am. They were right. I shouldn't have been born in this world. Maybe… this is what fate truly is."
Each word deepened the furrows in his brow. He sank further into sorrow, remembering Frazaris's parting words:
"This is either a new beginning… or the end."
That meant only one thing: some would live… and others would never return.
And amidst it all, a whirl of white and black energy began to spin—a Yin-Yang cycle, formed from the ambient forces around him. During this strange phenomenon, a middle-aged figure appeared—one who seemed to have known the world for centuries, to have seen everything that was, is, and could be.
From behind Kell, a deep yet gentle voice echoed—one that soothed the soul:
"Where have you disappeared to, child? The world is small… but our minds are vast. It's because of this vastness that the world feels so empty. Look at this silence—feel it. Embrace it. This silence… will lead you to yourself."
"Meet yourself. Once you do, this world will no longer feel too big. The cosmos within you is greater than the one around you. Know yourself. Each soul is here for a reason… and you, my friend—my child—are here for something unique. You are not part of the crowd… You are something more."
These words reached Kell's ears like a dream. He wondered if he was hallucinating. Perhaps the loneliness had finally driven him mad. So he said nothing, gave no reaction, and just kept walking.
But then—a hand touched his shoulder.
It was a heavy hand. Calloused, scarred, and rough—hands that had fought countless wars, taken lives, and saved others.
Startled, Kell turned around, as if shaken from a nightmare, the look on his face like someone who had been struck awake by a slap…