The War Faction – A Clash of Oaths and Power
The grand hall of the Judgment Council trembled with tension, its towering obsidian pillars reflecting the dim glow of celestial torches. The air was thick with the weight of betrayal, pride, and the unspoken threat of war.
Tavis, his voice a thunderous growl, shattered the silence first. "The War Faction has indeed broken our oaths! They bring mockery to our name!" His words echoed like a blade unsheathed, sharp and unyielding.
Nielan, standing tall with an aura of cold authority, swept his gaze across the assembled rulers. "I see. You all now wish to stand against us." His voice was smooth, yet laced with venom. "You know I speak the truth and nothing more. We are rulers—meant to dominate, to subdue all that exists. We create, and we destroy. This is the cycle that must never be broken… or there will be consequences to pay."
A murmur rippled through the gathered beings, but none dared interrupt.
Then Krelious, the High Head, rose from his throne of fractured starlight. His presence alone commanded absolute silence. "I have decided," he declared, his voice resonating with finality. "We will take action against the Unknown Chaos. And once that is done… we will put our house in order." His piercing eyes locked onto each ruler in turn. "Do you all understand?"
The rulers bowed as one, their voices a unified whisper. "Yes, High Head."
Krelious gave a slow nod. "Good. Then this meeting of peace… is officially over."
As if bound by an unseen force, every being in the hall immediately stood and lowered their heads—a gesture of deference to Krelious and his judgment. One by one, they departed, leaving only the echoes of their footsteps behind.
When the hall was empty save for Nielan, Krelious turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Nielan," he began, his voice quieter now but no less commanding, "I hereby proclaim you and your faction guilty of the accusations leveled against you."
Nielan's eyes flashed with disbelief. "You would believe the words of another over your own house?"
Krelious did not waver. "Yes. Because he speaks the truth… and you lie. Not just to yourself—but to me as well."
Nielan's composure shattered. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO ERASE HIM!" he roared, his voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. "A warning to others who dare point fingers at us! We are rulers! And that lowly god just insulted us—this great Verse!"
Tavis, who had lingered near the exit, stepped forward, his expression grim. "As much as I hate to say it, High Head… I agree with Nielan. That was an insult—not just to us, but to this entire realm."
Dainen, his presence like a gathering storm, added, "Because of that insult alone, we cannot let him live much longer."
Krelious's fury erupted like a supernova. "NO ONE WILL TOUCH CAREL!" he thundered, his voice shaking the cosmos. "And if any of you dare challenge my decision… the consequences will be catastrophic."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating.
Then, with a final glare, the War Faction turned and stormed out, their anger a tangible force in their wake.
Alone once more, Krelious exhaled, the weight of leadership pressing upon him. "Hmm… Zion. Nealon. What are your thoughts on this?"
Zion, ever the voice of reason, hesitated before speaking. "To be honest, High Head… our house stands divided. I fear a battle may soon erupt within our own ranks."
Nealon, her face lined with weariness, sighed deeply. "He speaks the truth. The future… does not look bright for any of us."
Krelious closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "All I have ever wanted… was peace."
With that, Zion and his faction departed, leaving Krelious alone with his thoughts.
After a long moment, he called out, "Yoton."
The warrior materialized from the shadows. "Yes, High Head?"
"Prepare 300,000 Supreme Troops," Krelious ordered, his voice steel. "For the battle at the Cronoverse."
Yoton bowed. "Yes, my lord."
Outside the Judgment Council Halls
The cosmic winds howled as Carel, his divine armor gleaming under the light of distant stars, clenched his fists in fury. Beside him stood Azarel, his most trusted strategist.
"These rulers have no dignity," Carel spat. "To disrespect their own High Head's council like this…"
Azarel nodded grimly. "Indeed, my lord. But we must leave now. Lord Tavis and his faction have already sent assassins after us. If we linger, we risk igniting a war here."
Carel's eyes darkened. "So the factions have already begun to act… What a pity." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I fear the future holds only death and destruction if anything should happen to the High Head himself."
Azarel placed a hand on his blade. "Then we must act swiftly. My lord, give the order."
Carel nodded. "Ready the troops. We leave now."
Azarel turned to the assembled warriors—elite soldiers who had sworn their lives to their lord. "All troops, move with haste! Protect our lord with your lives, as you have always done!"
The soldiers roared in unison, their voices shaking the heavens. "YES, MA! OUR LIVES BELONG TO OUR LORD! WE SHALL DIE FOR OUR LORD AND HIS HOUSE—FOR THAT IS OUR ROLE, AND WHAT WE LIVE FOR!"
With their oath still ringing in the air, the troops surged forward, vanishing into the cosmic expanse—leaving behind only the echoes of their loyalty and the shadow of impending war.
The Cronoverse Army Command Station
A heavy silence draped the vast command station, broken only by the hum of ancient machinery and the distant echoes of marching troops. The air crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. War was coming—swift, merciless, and inevitable.
At the heart of the station stood Yoton, his presence alone enough to bend reality around him. His voice, deep and commanding, cut through the stillness like a blade.
"Zerich," he called, his words resonating with authority. "Prepare 300,000 Supreme Troops immediately. We depart for war soon—on the Reveiverse."
Zerich, the indomitable Commander of the Supreme Troops, bowed his head in acknowledgment. His armor gleamed under the dim light, each plate forged from the remnants of fallen gods.
"Yes, my Lord," he responded, his voice unwavering. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Only duty.
Tavis' Home
Elsewhere, in the shadowed halls of his private sanctum, Tavis, the Head of the Appointment Faction, paced restlessly. His thoughts were a storm of fury and betrayal.
"This war cannot be avoided, Krelious," he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with venom. "You have no respect for this House. You don't deserve to remain our High Head anymore."
His fingers clenched into fists, knuckles white with suppressed rage.
"When we are done with the Reveiverse—and that bastard god, Carel—you will be next, Krelious." A cruel smile twisted his lips. "Let's pray you can avoid a war and the division of your House all at the same time."
The threat hung in the air, a promise of blood and retribution.
The Creation Faction Meeting Ground
Under the towering arches of the Creation Faction's sacred meeting grounds, Zion, the faction's Head, stood before his assembled members. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.
"I do not have any problem with the decision of our High Head," he began, his voice measured. "But the disrespect and disgrace given to him by Nielan will not go unpunished."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered gods.
Leyen, the Second Member, stepped forward, his voice sharp as a blade. "Do not worry, my Lord. The War Faction will not escape our hands. Once we settle this chaos dispute, they will pay—for nullifying our oaths as rulers and for the disgrace they have shown our Head."
The air hummed with vengeance, a silent oath sworn in blood.
The War Faction Meeting Ground
In the darkened war chamber of the War Faction, Nielan, their furious leader, slammed his fist against the obsidian table. The sound echoed like thunder.
"That bastard Krelious made a mockery of us in front of all the gods present at the meeting!" he roared. "I swear—he will pay for his sins!"
Dainen, the Second Member, nodded in agreement, his eyes alight with malice. "And as for that little god, Carel… this is only the beginning of what is to come for his Verse."
Amiss, the youngest among them, hesitated before speaking.
"If I may say something, Chief…"
Nielan turned his gaze toward him, his patience thin. "Go on, Amiss."
Amiss swallowed hard but pressed on. "Shouldn't we ask for forgiveness first? Then, slowly, we can put our plans in place. If we rampage now, the odds will be heavily against us."
Nielan's expression darkened. "Hmph. It doesn't matter if the odds are against us. We have nearly a zillion Chaos at our command. No more delays."
But Deriss, the Third Member, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Chief, but I agree with Amiss."
Lenon, the Fourth Member, sighed. "Same here, Chief. I agree with them. But I will still follow you to war—even now. However… as long as Krelious remains alive, even a zillion Chaos may not be enough to kill him. If we send them all against him, he will simply erase them and still have enough strength to strip us of our authority and punish us."
Deriss nodded grimly. "Indeed, Chief. If we are to have any hope of winning, we must plan carefully—and smartly."
Dainen exhaled sharply. "I agree with all their statements, Chief."
Nielan's jaw tightened, his rage simmering beneath the surface. Finally, he relented. "Fine. I will think about it… before the Meeting of Rulers arrives."
The Decision Faction Meeting Ground
In the luminous halls of the Decision Faction, Krelious, the High Head, stood with his most trusted advisor, Nealon. His voice was calm, but his words carried the weight of inevitability.
"Nealon," he said, "see to it that those Chaos creatures are completely eliminated before the Meeting of Rulers begins."
Nealon bowed deeply. "Yes, High Head."
Krelious studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing. "Listen, Nealon… you are not to die. We may be among the Ultimate Beings now, but remember—there are beings out there who can rival the power of a Ruler… and kill us, if we make a wrong move."
Nealon smiled, her confidence unshaken. "You worry too much, High Head. Remember—we are the Ultimate Existence, with unrivaled power and authority. No god or unknown beast can take my life."
Krelious did not return her smile.
When their discussion ended, Nealon strode out of the meeting ground, her steps resolute. She joined the Supreme Army, where Yoton and Zerich awaited.
Together, they departed—for the Reveiverse.
For war.
For vengeance.
For the fate of all existence.
The Weight of Eternity.
The cosmos trembled under the ceaseless march of war. The Reveiverse, a realm forged in the fires of divine conflict, bore the scars of battles older than time itself. Stars flickered like dying embers, and the very fabric of existence groaned under the weight of endless strife.
At the heart of this maelstrom stood Carel, the war-weary god-king, his once-radiant armor now dulled by eons of bloodshed. His faithful servant, Azarel, knelt before him, her silver eyes reflecting the sorrow of a thousand lost battles.
"My Lord, we have arrived," Azarel announced, her voice steady despite the carnage surrounding them.
Carel did not respond immediately. Instead, he gazed into the abyss beyond, where the remnants of fallen deities drifted like forgotten memories. A deep, unshakable unease coiled within his soul—a weariness that no victory could dispel.
Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with the burden of eternity.
"Azarel… my faithful servant."
She lifted her head. "Yes, my Lord?"
Carel exhaled, his breath carrying the weight of ages. "I have grown tired of fighting this endless war—a war that has raged since the very dawn of creation. We have slain the Abyssal King, clashed with the Void Creator, turned blades upon our own kin among the gods… and now, we face these Chaos creatures. And soon, we will once again be forced to choose sides among the Rulers."
His voice cracked, raw with grief. "My wife… my child… I have not seen them in thousands of years. I sent them away to the multiverse for their safety, yet now I wonder if I condemned them to a fate worse than death. I am exhausted, Azarel. I am broken. I am… lonely."
Azarel felt the agony in his words like a blade through her own heart. She had stood by his side through countless battles, had seen him at his most ruthless and his most merciful. But never had she seen him so… human.
She rose to her feet, her resolve hardening. "My Lord, I have fought beside you for eras beyond counting. I know you to be a just and kind god—one who loves and protects his own. But if you weep here, now, your army will lose hope. They will falter. And if they falter, all is lost."
Her voice softened, yet carried an unshakable strength. "You are not alone. I am here. For now… let me stand in the place of your wife. Take me. Let me ease your sorrow, if only for this night."
Carel stared at her, the storm in his eyes subsiding into something quieter—something vulnerable. Then, wordlessly, he yielded.
That night, beneath the shattered skies of the Reveiverse, the god-king and his most loyal servant found solace in each other's arms.
The March of the Supreme Troops.
Far from the battlefield, aboard the colossal war vessel Warhead, three figures stood at the helm, their silhouettes cutting against the void.
Nealon, the strategist, gazed at the swirling chaos ahead, her sharp eyes calculating every possible outcome. Beside her, Yoton, the ever-mercurial warrior, lounged with deceptive ease, while Zerich, the battle-hungry commander of the Supreme Troops, cracked his knuckles in anticipation.
"How long until we arrive at our destination?" Nealon asked, her voice calm but edged with urgency.
Yoton smirked. "At our current speed? Three days. Unless, of course, Zerich here decides to punch a hole through reality again."
Zerich let out a booming laugh, his massive frame shaking with mirth. "Hah! I hope this Chaos provides some real fun. I've been itching for a proper fight."
Nealon chuckled, shaking her head. "You truly are a creature of the battlefield, Zerich. I admire that about you. And you've served faithfully as commander. But… I sense something worse ahead. More than just Chaos creatures. So when we arrive, try to be careful, alright?"
Yoton snorted. "Careful? Zerich? Nealon, you know he's a meathead. The only language he understands is war."
Zerich grinned, unfazed. "Look who's talking! You only joined this war for the spoils—especially the women!"
The three burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the metallic halls of the Warhead. But Nealon's mirth faded first, her expression turning solemn.
"Animals. Both of you. Let's just hope we all come back alive."
The Omen of Akermos.
Meanwhile, in the Cronoverse, Akermos, the fourth member of Krelious' faction, sprinted through the obsidian halls of the citadel, his breath ragged. He did not stop until he reached the grand doors of Krelious' private chamber—and without hesitation, he threw them open.
"My Lord! My Lord, I bring urgent news!" Akermos gasped, his chest heaving.
Krelious, seated upon his throne of blackened bone, turned with a snarl. "What madness possesses you to enter my chambers unannounced?!"
Akermos dropped to his knees, his voice trembling. "Forgive me, High Head… but I have had a vision."
Krelious froze.
"A… vision?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Impossible. You have not had a vision since the war with the Abyssal King—a billion years ago."
Akermos swallowed hard. "I, too, believed my sight lost. But now I realize… I was merely afraid to use it again. After what I saw last time."
Krelious leaned forward, his crimson eyes burning. "Speak. What did you see?"
Akermos shuddered. "Countless heads of gods… slain. Even us Rulers. The coming war will bring destruction beyond measure. The only way to avert it… is to renew and strengthen our Oaths."
Krelious slammed his fist onto the armrest, the sound like thunder. "Nonsense! The only threats to our existence are the Creator, the Void, and the Abyssal King! You cannot truly believe the Reveiverse poses such a danger!"
"My visions are never wrong," Akermos whispered.
"ENOUGH!" Krelious roared. "Leave me! And send for the messenger!"
Akermos bowed deeply, his heart heavy. "As you command, High Head. But remember my words… the storm comes."
As the doors sealed behind Akermos, Krelious slumped back into his throne, his mind racing.
"Why now?" he muttered to the empty chamber. "Why, after all this time…?"
Then—a knock.
Krelious clenched his jaw. "Enter."
Krelious' Decree
The Sovereign's Chamber.
"My Lord, you sent for me."
Krelious, his piercing gaze fixed on the distant horizon beyond the arched windows, did not turn. His voice, though calm, carried the weight of inevitability.
"Deliver this decree to all factions—no matter how far they dwell."
The messenger bowed deeper. "Yes, my Lord. What is your command?"
At last, Krelious turned, his obsidian robes swirling like a storm. "In one year's time, the Meeting of Rulers will convene on Planet Xian. All matters concerning the Verses and our Houses will be settled there. Every ruler must attend. This is not a request—it is an order."
The messenger's breath hitched, but he nodded. "It shall be done."
With a flick of Krelious' hand, the messenger vanished, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the corridor's shadows.
The Factions Respond
Zielan's Stronghold
The messenger found Zielan amidst a war council, maps of conquered worlds strewn across the table. Without hesitation, the warlord smirked.
"Tell your High Head we'll be there."
Zion's Domain
In Zion's hall of mirrors, where reflections whispered secrets, the decree was met with a slow, calculating smile.
"Hmm. We will attend," Zion murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of a fractured glass pane.
Tavis' Castle
Tavis, however, slammed his fist onto the armrest of his throne, his face contorted in fury.
"A rulers' meeting in a year?! This was meant to happen five years from now!"
The messenger remained still, though his voice held an edge. "My apologies, Chief Tavis, but refusal carries consequences."
Tavis' eyes blazed. "Are you threatening me?"
"I dare not. But the High Head's word is law."
A tense silence followed before Tavis relented, though his jaw remained clenched. "Fine. Tell Krelious I'll be there."
As the messenger departed, Tavis seethed. "First, he humiliates us. Now he barks orders, forgetting we allowed him sovereignty!"
The Reveiverse Front
Nealon burst into Yoton's command tent, the decree clutched on her hand.
"Yoton! The High Head's orders—we must end this war in six laxus (months) and return to prepare for the Meeting."
Yoton exhaled sharply, his gaze drifting to the holographic battlefield between them. "Six laxus… Let's hope it's enough."
Zerich's voice crackled over the comms. "Nealon, Yoton—we've arrived."
NEXT CHAPTER ✓
ACT 3: THE BATTLE AND THE PLANS.