The words were ground out between Zareth’s gritted teeth.

"So you were the Abyssal Ruler of the Sixth Layer."

"I knew it," Alveron said, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes, like a teacher pleased with a particularly bright, if doomed, student. "I knew you couldn’t have reached the fourth stage without figuring out at least some of it."

"Damn you... Damn you to hell, Alveron! You’re already a fifth-stage demigod! Why? Why would you do all this?"

Zareth truly couldn’t comprehend it. Why would a being of such immense power, an Abyssal Ruler, spend countless years meticulously crafting a plot that revolved around him? The sheer, soul-crushing feeling of being nothing more than a pawn in a game he never even knew he was playing filled him with a venomous rage.

"Yes, my former self was a being of the fifth stage," Alveron mused, his tone becoming distant. "And with the divine mantle of an Abyssal Ruler, my life was essentially endless. As long as this world existed, I could not die."

The placid mask on Alveron’s face cracked. Zareth had unknowingly struck a raw nerve.

"But do you have any idea how long I was trapped at that stage? Do you know what it’s like to stare at that final, sixth stage, and know you can never reach it? The sheer, unending despair?"

His voice rose, cracking with a manic energy. "For millennia, I despaired! And then, I had an epiphany. Zareth, we are not the masters of Calamity. The Calamity Power we wield has a ceiling. It could only ever get me to the fifth stage. The true God of Calamity would never allow a successor to rise, would it?"

As he spoke, a hint of madness bled through. Zareth may have been his pawn, but they had also been friends for an eternity. To finally voice the thoughts he had kept locked away for ages was a profound relief. Some secrets, left to fester, will drive a man insane.

"So, I spent another few thousand years searching for a way out. A way to shatter that ceiling and break through to the sixth stage. And I found it."

"He was a virtue knight, a fool who thought he could ’cleanse’ the Abyss. He challenged me. I not only shattered his soul and his will, but I took his body as my own. Yes, that’s right. He was the legendary knight from your own world, the one they all revered. Ramses, the Confident Blade."

A nostalgic, almost feverish light flickered in Alveron’s eyes. "I occupied his body, and by pure chance, I discovered that the heart of a knight is an incredibly versatile vessel. It couldn’t just contain the power of Calamity; it could cleanse it, fundamentally changing its nature."

"And so, a plan that would span tens of thousands of years was born."

Alveron laughed, a sound that was both triumphant and utterly bitter.

"And it worked. I was right. I found the path. I knew that one day, I would become a living god."

He stared at Zareth, his gaze intense. Once he sacrificed his old friend to the cosmic rules of the Abyss, he would be completely untethered.

"I started a new life, in your world. I began to use the heart of a virtue knight to channel the power of Calamity, using goodness and justice to purify its essence. My power began to transform, achieving a perfect balance between two extremes. I finally broke free from the shackles of the God of Calamity."

"Now, all I have to do is consume the Abyssal Springhead—the essence of my former self—and I will shatter the final barrier. I will reach the sixth stage and make my final push for godhood."

The madness receded, and Alveron was once again serenely calm.

But Zareth had taken his place, consumed by a rage that burned hotter than any star.

"Alveron," he roared, his voice a promise of absolute annihilation. "I will erase you from existence! I swear to you, I will make you suffer! I swear it!"

***

Titanion Realm, Stoneheart Citadel.

With a flicker of displaced air, Orion appeared on the throne in his castle. After setting things in motion at the Foundry, his true body had teleported back immediately. When it came to matters of life and death, he took no chances.

"Daddy!"

Orion’s sudden arrival didn’t startle Elara, who was already sitting on the massive throne. Teleportation was old news to her.

"Checking on your egg again?"

Elara nodded, her small hand gently stroking the enormous dragon egg. She hadn’t been interested in the World Dragon egg at first. But as she’d instinctively channeled her unique energy into it day after day, she had begun to sense something familiar awakening within—the raw, untamed power of a world being born.

Now, she was inseparable from it, coming to check on "her" egg every day. Her old Inferno Dragon had been unceremoniously dumped on Pallas to serve as a glorified sparring partner.

"Uh-huh. Daddy, Elara can feel it. The little one inside is almost ready to come out."

That was excellent news. It meant he was one step closer to gaining a new avatar with the potential to reach demigod status.

"Daddy," Elara said, her voice suddenly serious. "When I grow up... can I not be a queen?"

Silence.

The great hall was utterly, deathly still.

Orion was completely blindsided. Where had this come from? Who had been talking to her about being a queen?

Orion’s smile didn’t falter, but inside, a switch flipped. A cold anger settled in his gut.

"Heh... and what does my little Elara think being a queen is all about?" he asked, his voice light as he reached over and playfully ruffled her hair into a messy mop.

"Like Mom," she said simply. "I don’t want to be a queen like that."

Orion’s arm scooped her up, and he sat her on his shoulder, bringing her close. "And why not? After the Giant-King, the queen of the Stoneheart Horde is the most powerful title there is."

He kept his explanation simple, not pushing to find the source of her question just yet.

"I don’t want it," Elara said, her expression incredibly serious for a child. "I want to be like you, Daddy. Sit on the throne and have everyone look up to me."

"Even Pallas?" Orion asked, a real smile touching his lips now, feeling like he was listening to a fairy tale.

"Yes. Especially Pallas," she confirmed. "He’s kind of a doofus. I have to be strong enough to make sure no one pushes him around." She made a tiny fist, the very picture of a protective older sister. She then looked at him, her eyes wide and knowing.

"Daddy, no one told me anything. But I can see it. In their heads. What they’re thinking."

They. She didn’t say who. It didn’t matter.

Orion’s smile remained, but it was different now. He gently lifted her off his shoulder and sat her on the throne beside him, turning to face her.

"So? What do you think? Is the throne comfortable?"

Elara nodded, then shook her head.

"This is your throne, Daddy," she said, her voice clear and certain. "Not mine."

Orion suddenly burst out laughing. It was a deep, genuine laugh that echoed through the silent hall. He understood. He finally, truly, understood.