The gods descended like lightning bolts—beams of celestial energy rushing down upon Valieon. Before he could react, hundreds of divine arms clasped around him, binding his limbs, suppressing his aura. They had come not as protectors of peace, but as terrified beings responding to a power they could no longer ignore.
Valieon did not resist.
He knelt beside Kael Draven's body one last time, whispering words no one heard but the wind: "I'm sorry I was too late."
The gods argued among themselves—burying Kael was not part of protocol. But the boy they had chained had slain Ignar the Flame Tyrant, the third-strongest god of the pantheon. Even in shackles, he was dangerous. So they agreed, nervously, cautiously.
Valieon stood still as the burial began. The winds were calm, yet heavy with grief. A hero was gone. A father. A mentor.
Ashar passed through the burial site silently, his eyes locked on Valieon. Hatred burned in them like wildfire. "I will have my revenge, mortal," he hissed, before disappearing into the shadows.
Valieon was sealed in a divine prison-cage, handcuffed with magic forged from the combined essence of every god present. No mortal, not even demigods, had ever been treated this way. But Valieon was no ordinary mortal.
He was taken to Prime Realme, the seat of the gods.
The Prime Palace was unlike anything Valieon had ever seen—towering pillars that shimmered with the essence of galaxies, ceilings that mirrored nebulae, a throne that pulsed with the very rhythm of time.
The gods were seated in a great circle, each throne carved from the elements they governed.
At the center, on a throne made of pure aether, sat the Prime God—Solivante, Lord of Origin and End.
He studied Valieon with ancient, unreadable eyes. "Who are you, young man?" he asked, his voice both a whisper and a quake. "And how do you possess a power capable of killing the Flame Tyrant?"
In this divine realm, truth hung heavily. No one dared to lie in front of Solivante. Yet Valieon didn't flinch.
"I am Valieon," he began, his voice steady.
"A child born with no name. Raised by an old woman who died when I was three. I stole food to survive. Clothes from other children. I was just another forgotten life... until General Kael Draven gave me a chance. Education. A roof. I had no aura, no destiny. Then Master Zephyr found me. Trained me. Told me there was more. That I had a truth to uncover. He died before he could tell me everything.
"I claimed Alpha and Omega, my birthright. I walked alone, until the myth became truth. A mortal who can control the cosmos.
"Today, I do not beg. I demand.
"I demand recognition. I demand my existence. I demand to become a god.
"And I demand to be named the Cosmic Sovereign."
The room went silent.
Even the stars outside paused their motion.
Solivante stared at him for a long time. "My ancestors... they spoke of a legend. A myth about a mortal who would rise, challenge fate, and demand the cosmos itself... That myth has always lived in stories."
He stood.
"I do not know the full tale. But the power I feel from you is undeniable. And power does not come without purpose."
The other gods murmured among themselves, some afraid, some envious, but none could deny what stood before them.
"Let it be known across the Realmes," Solivante declared, "A new god has emerged."
He raised his hand. The cosmos above the throne room split, and a beam of celestial light descended.
"All hail Valieon—the Mortal Ascended. The Cosmic Sovereign."
The gods bowed, some reluctantly, some in awe.
And far away, in the deepest corners of the universe, something ancient stirred.