Epilogue.
The skies of the Cronoverse grew heavy, as if the universe itself was holding its breath. Far beyond the edges of the known realms, in the endless void where time and space blurred into nothingness, a single spark of energy flickered—weak, trembling, like the last gasp of a dying star.
It was faint. Almost unnoticeable.
But it was there.
And it was his.
Yoton's pulse.
Nealon's breath hitched. Her hand flew to her chest, fingers pressing against her ribs as if she could claw out the sudden, icy dread that gripped her.
"Zerich…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the station. "Did you feel that?"
But the moment passed as quickly as it had come. The air settled. The unease lingered.
The storm had only just begun.
The Appointment Rulers' Home
A Realm of Whispers and Shadows
The grand hall of the Appointment Rulers was a place of cold beauty—walls of polished obsidian, floors that shimmered like liquid night, and thrones carved from the bones of forgotten gods. The air here was thick with power, with history, with the weight of countless lifetimes.
Tavis stood at the center, his massive frame tense, his golden veins pulsing beneath his skin like rivers of molten fire. His fists clenched, unclenched, then clenched again.
"It's still difficult to believe," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, echoing off the walls. "That one of us… was killed by a lower life form."
Red lounged on his throne, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. His crimson eyes gleamed—amused? Calculating? It was impossible to tell. "Hmmm," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin. "Are we truly losing our powers as Rulers… or are the lower life forms growing stronger?"
Janyi, her body wrapped in living starlight, let out a sharp laugh. "Speak for yourself, Red. I am more powerful now than I was three thousand years ago." Her voice was a blade, slicing through the silence.
Leviam, the eldest among them, leaned forward. The air around him hummed, vibrating with the sheer force of his presence. "A lot will soon happen," he said, his voice like distant thunder. "This was just the beginning. More will come."
Milani's laughter rang out—bright, wild, and terrifying, like shattering glass. "Even if it's the Creator Himself, I will win. I will survive."
Tavis exhaled, his breath stirring the dust of centuries. "I do feel for Yoton," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "If there was someone who should have been kept alive… it was him. This death should have been Krelious. It should have been him."
Red's fingers drummed against the bone-white armrest of his throne. "Relax, my Lord. Krelious will pay—somehow. But you must know: killing him is nearly impossible."
Milani's grin widened, her teeth glinting like daggers. "No one is above death, Red. Not even us Rulers. Not even Krelious himself. We will kill him. We just need to be patient… and prepare quietly."
Tavis nodded, slow and deliberate. "That's good, Milani. I love your thinking. That's exactly what we're going to do."
The Creation Rulers' Home
Where Schemes Are Forged in Silence
In the mirrored halls of the Creation Rulers' domain, Zion stood before a vast window that overlooked the endless cosmos. His reflection was distorted—rage and cold calculation twisting his features.
"This death was definitely Nielan's doing," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "To kill one of your own… He's beyond saving now. And his death shall not be an easy one. Neither shall his soul's torment."
Ozors, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward. "Then what shall we do, my Lord? How do we kill him without offending the High Head?"
Zion's fingers traced the edge of a dagger made from solidified time. "We will strategize carefully… after the Rulers' meeting."
Liam, a storm barely contained in mortal flesh, slammed his fist into the wall. The impact sent cracks spiderwebbing through reality itself. "If you ask me, I'd say we end his life now—and his entire faction with him!"
Leyen sighed, her voice calm but firm. "Woah there, Liam. There's no need to rush. The Verse is mourning. If we act now, chaos will consume us all. We cannot hope to fix that."
Liam snarled. "Whatever. I'm going to Senor's Bar to fuck and drink."
Sted, lounging in a pool of liquid shadow, smirked. "Yeah, we know. That's the only thing you're good at—aside from fighting."
Liam's glare could have melted planets. "Fuck you."
Sted grinned. "That's it. Right there."
Zion pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sted, don't push Liam into doing something crazy. And Liam—I forbid you from attacking the War Rulers."
With a final, wordless snarl, Liam stormed out, his footsteps leaving scorch marks on the marble.
Zion watched him go. "He'll be alright."
The Warheads' Station
A Triumph and a Prelude
Krelious emerged from the smoke of battle, his armor gleaming like a god's wrath. The troops—bloodied, exhausted, but unbroken—stood at attention as he raised a hand.
"Welcome, Nealon. And warriors… you all did well." His voice carried across the station, deep and commanding. "Every one of you—including the dead—will be compensated. The fallen will be remembered for their sacrifices."
Nealon bowed, her body aching from wounds that would have killed a lesser being. "Thank you, High Head."
The troops echoed her, their voices a thunderous wave: "Thank you, High Head!"
Krelious turned to Nealon, his gaze softening just a fraction. "We will have a faction meeting soon—before the Rulers convene. Rest. Heal. I will send a messenger with the location two days prior."
Nealon nodded. "Thank you."
Zerich, ever the opportunist, stepped forward, his grin rakish. "My Lord… what about me?"
Krelious chuckled, tossing him a small, glowing orb. "Ah, Zerich. You've also done well. This will grant you entry to the Domainverse. A month of indulgence—bars, motels, all yours. But don't cause problems this time."
Zerich caught the orb, his eyes alight with mischief. "Yes, sir! Thank you, my Lord!"
As Krelious strode away, his laughter lingered like a storm on the horizon.
Nealon watched Zerich warily. "I know that smile. You fuck. I hope you don't get into trouble—or the Three Kings will kill you."
Zerich winked. "They hate me, but believe me… I won't fuck around their families again."
Nealon rolled her eyes. "For your sake? You'd better not."
With a bark of laughter, Zerich turned to his men. "Pack your bags, boys! We're heading to Fuck Town!"
The troops roared in approval, their voices shaking the station's foundations.
As Nealon walked away, she whispered to the void: "Please be safe, Yoton."
To Be Continued.