The Last Year
The third year dawned in silence.
Not the quiet of peace—but the terrible stillness of a world holding its breath.
The Uncharted Wilds had become a graveyard of broken realities, where patches of normal earth bordered floating islands of inverted gravity, where rivers ran backward through time, where the air itself carried the metallic tang of dying divinity.
Prophet stood on the edge of what had once been a mountain, now sheared clean by some forgotten clash.
His eyes tracked the battle above ,two figures moving through the ruins of the Divine Kingdom like shadows through a burning cathedral.
The God of Sacrifice was dimming.
His once glorious form had shrunk to a skeletal wraith, his molten gold flesh now pitted and scarred, the screaming faces in his skin reduced to faint impressions. The spires of his kingdom had collapsed into floating debris, their sacred geometries shattered.
But gods do not die easily.
"You cannot kill me, Kane," the god rasped, his voice the sound of a last breath leaving a corpse. "I am sacrifice itself. As long as one being in creation offers pain in exchange for power, I endure."
The Patriarch hovered amid the wreckage of broken space, his cloak now more tattered shadow than fabric. The lightning that wreathed him had darkened to the color of a starless night, flickering weakly at times—but never extinguishing.
He smiled.
"I don't need to kill you."
Space warped around his fist.
"I just need to make you a new addition to the Veydran throne. You'll see why we're feared"
---
The last seven days of the war reached its pinnacle.
The final battle lasted seven days and nights ,though time had long since lost meaning in the broken realm.
On the first day, the God of Sacrifice tore open his remaining veins and unleashed the Last Martyrs,a flood of golden specters, each one a perfected sacrifice from his millennia of worship.
They came screaming through the void, their perfect forms untouched by decay, their devotion absolute.
The Patriarch met them with Black Lightning ,not mere electricity, but the distilled essence of annihilation. Where it struck, the martyrs didn't just die ,they unbecame , their very concept erased from existence showcasing the strength of the Emperor of the strongest Dynasty.
On the third day , the god reshaped the remnants of his Divine kingdom into a Crown of Thorns, a monstrous halo that pulsed with the heartbeat of dying worship. It sought the Patriarch's brow, its spikes whispering promises of divine surrender.
Kael appeared out of nowhere and intervened wanting the fight to end fast so they could finally tend to Prophet.
His Gravity's End twisted the crown into a singularity, compressing eons of devotion into a single, screaming point ,before hurling it into the void.
On the fifth day , the God of Sacrifice did the unthinkable ,he began consuming himself , devouring his own divine flesh in a final, desperate gambit. With each bite, his form grew more monstrous, his power more unstable. He was igniting his divine core and soul , his very foundations as a God.
Lysara's Soul Pyre burned brighter than ever, her flames now tinged with gold as she fought to contain the spreading corruption.
On the seventh day
The Patriarch struck the final blow.
---
The God of Sacrifice lunged, his form now more empty showing him continuousweakening, his remaining arm a jagged spike of distilled sacrifice.
The Patriarch caught the blow in his palm and space screamed.
"Storm Void Seal."
Black lightning erupted from his fingers not striking outward, but inward, wrapping around the god's essence like chains forged from the absence of light.
The God of Sacrifice convulsed as the lightning burrowed into his core, each strand carving divine sigils of binding into his very being. He was bring branded by runes created by Kane , his every being was being sealed. Being sealed a great humiliation for a God but he wasn't the first nor would he be the last.
Space itself contorted, the ruins of the Divine Kingdom folding inward like paper in a giant's fist. The god's form compressed, his screams rising in pitch as he was crushed into a single, shining point of agony.
With a roar that shook the foundations of reality, the Patriarch hurled the compressed divinity downward ,through layers of broken space, through the bleeding sky of the Uncharted Wilds, through the vaulted ceilings of the Veydran throne room...
...And into the Throne of Bones , it might ve called the Throne of Bones but it was jot made from them, it was made by long lost void-gold. It got its name because only the strongest Veydran could seat on it.
The impact sent a shockwave through the dynasty, every Veydran bloodline member gasping as the god's essence bonded with the ancient seat. The throne ,carved from void-gold and having the remains of fallen divinities sealed within. With the additional sealed God of Sacrifice, the throne rejoiced , its surface writhing with new golden veins.
The God of Sacrifice's final scream echoed through the halls, fading into a perpetual, whispering hiss , the sound of a blade being sharpened, ready for the next sacrifice.
---
The aftermath of the battle.
Silence.
The Patriarch slumped onto his throne, the god's essence writhing beneath him like a living carpet. His children knelt before him ,Kael with his head bowed, Lysara with her flames dimmed to embers.
And Prophet?
He stood at the edge of the throne room, he was long rescued, his hands trembling not with fear, but with hunger for strength, he made a vow to get power by all means.
The battle had been a revelation.
He had seen his father break a god not through brute force, but through understanding , by knowing sacrifice and what it meant , he could counter it.
Power wasn't given.
It was taken.
The weak were destined to be devoured by the strong , that was the rule of the universe.
The Patriarch of the Veydran looked at Prophet at the corner and smiled.
"Youngest do grow well"