The camp was no longer a scattering of survivors huddled in fear—it was evolving.
In the days following Leon's clash with the Herald, the grove had transformed. Using fragments of old-world technology, salvaged materials, and his increasingly refined powers, Leon had helped erect barricades, shelters, and a central tower of observation. The once-wild area now bore the skeletal shape of a fortress-city, a spark of civilization reborn amidst the apocalypse.
And its heart was Leon.
From morning to night, people came to him—not just for protection, but for purpose. Farmers turned into sentries. Mechanics turned into engineers of survival. Children learned how to channel their new abilities in the training rings Leon had built from memory, modeled after celestial arenas from his past life.
He named the haven Caelum's Rise—after the heavens he once ruled and the ascent he would now lead again.
But deep within, Leon knew peace would not last.
His battle had been witnessed not just by mortals, but by other beings awoken by the apocalypse. Whispers spread of a man who had defied a god, who walked with the power to rewrite fate. These whispers carried across the crumbled cities and blackened skies, drawing attention from allies... and enemies.
---
On the fifth day, a stranger arrived.
He wore a tattered cloak, his face obscured by a metallic mask shaped like a wolf. Though he walked with the gait of a vagabond, every step held unnatural grace.
Leon felt it instantly—power, tightly coiled, like a blade drawn but not yet swung.
The man stopped at the edge of the camp.
"Leon," he said. "I have come to test the echo of divinity within you."
Leon stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Another Herald?"
The masked man chuckled. "No. I was once like you—a god in the age before memory. But I fell… and in falling, I found clarity."
He removed his mask.
A face half-burned, eyes glowing like molten silver. Around his neck hung a chain of divine emblems, shattered and scorched.
"My name was Theros," he said. "In the last war, I was your executioner. Now, I am your harbinger."
Without warning, he drew his blade.
Leon summoned his spear.
Their weapons clashed, and the world cracked.
---
The duel was unlike any Leon had faced since his return. Theros fought with a grace that blended ancient martial rhythm and divine intent. Each swing of his blade sang of forgotten realms, of wars that ended eras.
Leon matched him strike for strike, his spear an extension of his reborn soul.
But Theros wasn't trying to kill him.
He was trying to awaken something.
"You sleep still!" Theros roared as they clashed mid-air. "The throne calls you, yet you hesitate! Why!?"
"I won't ascend just to rule again," Leon growled, parrying a horizontal arc of energy. "This time, I rise for them!"
Theros paused.
And smiled.
"Then prove it."
He sheathed his blade.
"You are not yet whole, God-King. Pieces of your power are scattered across the world—bound, sealed, or forgotten. Seek them… or the Triumvirate will consume you before you awaken fully."
Leon lowered his weapon.
"You came to warn me."
"I came to judge you," Theros replied, eyes dimming. "And you passed."
With that, he vanished into the wind, leaving behind only scorched earth and silence.
---
That night, Leon returned to his chamber at the highest point of Caelum's Rise.
He stood before a mirror—though it no longer reflected just the man he once was. He saw fragments of the throne room again. Memories pulsed like heartbeats—celestial armor, armies kneeling, the stars trembling at his command.
But also… her face. Her smile. Her death.
He clenched his fists.
"I will become what I must," he whispered. "But I will not lose myself again."
Behind him, the girl from before—Elyra, now his closest aide—stood silently.
"You should rest," she said gently.
He turned. "I can't. The Triumvirate is coming."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"We're with you, Leon. All of us."
He walked to the balcony, staring out at the darkness beyond the hills. A storm brewed—one not born of weather, but of power. He could feel it.
Three signatures.
Each one radiating divine intent.
The Triumvirate.
---
Far to the east, in the ruins of what was once Tokyo, a woman stood atop a broken tower.
Her body shimmered with plasma, her eyes twin suns. She smiled.
"Leon... you're alive," she whispered. "Then I'll find you."
Behind her, a beast of stone and shadow rose, roaring at the heavens. She raised her hand—and obliterated it with a flick of her wrist.
"I won't let them take you again."
---
The countdown to divine war had begun.
And the world would never be the same.
---