[: 3rd POV :]

In a realm beyond the veil of mortal understanding, there existed a dominion where even light dared not linger, a place where the void bled with ruin and stars wept ashes.

The atmosphere was thick with despair, a suffocating miasma of destruction and power.

And at the center of this apocalyptic throne realm, atop a mountain of fractured realities, sat the Apocalypse Sovereign.

His throne was forged from the bones of dead gods, his presence shrouded by an eternal eclipse.

His chest bore a single, jagged mark, a sword wound that refused to heal, shimmering faintly with remnants of a mortal’s essence.

The Sovereign’s hand clenched around the armrest, and his voice thundered through the void.

"I’ll find that mortal and kill him with my own hands!"

The sound of his fury alone caused the nearest constellation to shatter.

Entire galaxies convulsed, imploding under the pressure of his wrath.

From the depths of the void, his apostles knelt, their bodies trembling from the reverberation of their lord’s rage.

One figure, taller than the rest, stepped forward.

His body was covered in scales of obsidian and gold, his eyes burning like twin suns of wrath.

Two horns spiraled from his forehead, and a tail lined with blades coiled behind him.

"My lord, what seems to anger you?" His tone was careful, reverent.

The Sovereign turned his gaze toward him, a gaze that could unmake worlds.

"It seems there’s a mortal who dares to defy me, even on a sealed world..."

His words dripped with venom.

"A barren planet that should have long forgotten my existence."

The horned apostle’s lips twisted into a smirk.

"A mortal? Ho... such insolence. Perhaps I should pay a visit to this fragile world, and show them the meaning of despair."

The Sovereign fell silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing.

"No, Azarkon." His voice carried weight that made the realm tremble.

"You are too powerful. If you step foot on that world, its core will collapse within moments’’

’’The very existence of that planet cannot sustain a being of your magnitude’’

’’It would ruin my plan to seize the relic hidden there... and alert those who still watch from the upper planes."

Azarkon bowed his head.

"As you command, my lord. Then... who shall you send?"

The Sovereign’s eyes turned toward the shadowed corner of his hall.

"Minerva."

From the darkness, a soft chime of ethereal bells echoed, and a figure emerged, a woman both divine and dreadful.

Her hair shimmered like liquid silver, cascading into streaks of black mist that devoured light.

Her eyes were twin voids speckled with galaxies, and around her floated thirteen halos, each cracked and bleeding fragments of dying stars.

Her attire was woven from celestial threads, and her wings, six in total, were made of glass and shadow, constantly flickering between existence and illusion.

She knelt gracefully. "Yes, my lord."

The Sovereign’s voice softened, though it still carried command.

"Do you recall the planet that sealed itself from the rest of the cosmos? The one that rejected divinity and cut all ties from the universe?"

Minerva nodded. "I do, my lord. The world known as Elaris — the mortal plane. It is protected by an ancient barrier created by the those chosen by ’them’."

"How long until the barrier weakens enough for us to invade?" the Sovereign demanded.

Minerva paused, her eyes flickering with light as she calculated.

"Approximately one year, my lord. Once the residual energy fades, the seal will break. By then, we can send our armies and reclaim what belongs to you."

The Sovereign’s brows furrowed.

"One year..."

He leaned back, fingers drumming on his throne.

"That is too long. The mortal’s power grows. And the other entities... they’re watching. If they sense my intent, they’ll interfere."

Sensing his frustration, Minerva raised her head.

"My lord, if time is the obstacle, I may have a suggestion that could shorten the waiting period."

The Sovereign’s eyes glimmered.

"Speak."

"We could use the Spark of Overrule."

Her tone was calm, but even the other Apostles gasped.

A deep silence filled the realm.

The mention of that relic, an ancient spark stolen from the dying heart of ’The First’ was not made lightly.

"You understand what you’re suggesting, Minerva?"

His voice dropped, deadly calm.

"That spark has been used many times before. Its essence has nearly faded. If I use it again, it will burn out completely."

"Yes, my lord. But that is why we will ensure this invasion is swift and decisive’’

’’We will locate and destroy the mortal before he becomes a threat beyond control." Her voice was steady, unwavering, as her halos flickered brighter.

"The Spark may fade, but your dominion will expand. The mortal world will bow once more."

The Sovereign closed his eyes for a moment, his massive aura retracting slightly as if deep in thought.

When he finally spoke, his tone was layered with warning and conviction.

"It must succeed. If it fails... the consequences will be dire. Not only the Sovereigns will notice the breach, but those gods, celestials, Constellations, The First, and countless entities will notice it, and the balance of realms will crumble."

Minerva smiled faintly.

"Then let us make sure it doesn’t fail."

From behind her, a deep voice echoed, resonant and filled with mockery.

"Heh... Minerva’s confidence is as amusing as always."

The speaker stepped forward, a towering man with eight burning eyes, a mane of crimson hair that resembled flames, and armor formed from volcanic obsidian.

His body radiated destructive heat, and molten cracks lined his arms.

This was Vaelgor, the Apostle of Annihilation, a being born from the Sovereign’s wrath.

"If we are to use the Spark, allow me to lead the vanguard. Let me test the strength of this so-called mortal who dared defy you, my lord."

"You?" another voice hissed, cold and serpentine.

"You’ll burn the planet before the war even begins."

The one who spoke slithered forward, Seraphis, Apostle of Silence, a woman with porcelain skin and serpentine eyes, her body adorned in silken scales and her mouth covered by a veil of shadows.

"If subtlety is required, I will go instead."

"Subtlety? From you?" Vaelgor scoffed. "The last time you ’silently’ infiltrated a realm, you devoured half its populace."

"They were loud," she replied coldly.

The Sovereign raised a hand, silencing them all instantly.

"Enough. I will decide who goes."

His gaze moved from one Apostle to another, from Azarkon, to Vaelgor, to Seraphis, and finally back to Minerva.

"Prepare the Spark. Once the alignment of the void shifts, we will tear open a path to the mortal plane. I will not tolerate failure. This mortal... has wounded me once. That is an insult that will be repaid in the blood of his world."

The Apostles bowed deeply, their voices unified.

"As you command, my lord."

As the echoes faded, the Apocalypse Sovereign’s gaze turned distant, his fingers brushing the scar on his chest.

For a moment, his tone softened, not with mercy, but with obsession.

"That sword... that power... it should not exist in the hands of a mortal. I will rip it from him and reclaim what is mine. The universe itself will tremble when I rise once more."

Behind him, the fractured skies of his dominion began to pulse, a sign that the preparations had already begun.

The Apostles dispersed, their shadows fading into portals of flame, mist, and darkness.

Minerva lingered a moment longer, her voice soft but laced with anticipation.

"Soon, my lord... very soon, the heavens will burn again. And that mortal — the one who injured you will kneel before you."

The Apocalypse Sovereign smiled faintly, his expression cold and cruel.

"No... he will not kneel. He will break."

And with that declaration, the unknown realm of ruin quaked once more, the herald of a storm that would soon descend upon the mortal plane.