Orion and Lyra's castle, nestled between the folds of time and creation, rested in its usual grandeur. Raised in the skies beyond logic, supported by eternal runes and pillars pulsing with the multiverse's heartbeat, its presence was constant and untouchable.
Since Pyralis's departure, the silence there had taken on a deeper quality—as if the cosmos itself allowed itself to relax.
In the heart of the palace, where starlight filtered through cosmic-crystal vaults, the primordial couple observed the lower worlds.
The vastness unfurled like living tapestries: empires at war, sects in conflict, civilizations being born and dying.
And among them, Eryndor stood out—a realm that not only endured but flourished.
Orion watched with mild boredom, a trace of a smile always hidden at the corner of his lips.
Beside him, Lyra sat with her legs crossed in serene posture, her eyes absorbing cosmic information with innate elegance.
Then, like a sigh from Creation itself, a familiar sound echoed through the hall:
『Ding』
『Congratulations! The Empire of Eryndor has reached new classifications among its inhabitants:
— Realm of the Nascent Soul: 30%
— Innate Realm: 50%
— Core Formation Realm: 10%
— Foundation Realm: 5%
— Spiritual Refinement Realm: 3%
— Mortal Realm: 2%』
Orion raised an eyebrow with the same interest a sculptor would have before a work finally taking shape.
"So fast…" he murmured.
And as if the system shared the same excitement, the hall echoed again:
『Rewards Generated… Emitting Rewards…』
The rewards appeared directly throughout Eryndor's territory.
Under rivers, beneath rocks, inside forgotten caverns, and on eternally frozen peaks, sleeping relics began to awaken. Swords that sang with the voice of ages, crystals that stored the breath of the Dao, pure essences awaiting worthy hands.
Lyra, watching it all with half-closed eyes, spoke lightly but with depth.
"Eryndor grows faster than expected. Soon, it will become something no mortal power on that continent has dared to dream."
Orion, with a contemplative smile, replied:
"It's the cycle of ascent. We guide them from afar…and they respond with will. Soon, we'll see which of them are worthy of the next era."
The look they exchanged was not only one of affection—it was that of two architects before a foundation sturdy enough to support gods.
Hours later, in the castle's private heart—an wing where time flows differently, shaped only by its inhabitants' will—Orion reclined on a luxurious starlotus sofa.
Around him, crystals floated slowly, projecting miniature battles from the mortal world, like small dances of war between geniuses still unaware of their own insignificance.
Orion observed them as one watches a rare plant's growth: with interest, but without urgency. His hair—normally styled with divine ease—now fell carelessly over his shoulders. He was barefoot, legs draped over the sofa's arm, a glass of cosmic wine evaporating dreams at his left. Paradoxically, he was a god at his most…human.
Then came the sound of soft footsteps, accompanied by droplets clinking on the celestial marble behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. But when he did…the universe trembled in silence.
Lyra emerged from the steam of a divine bath as if sculpted by the very lust of the stars. Wrapped only in a towel made of celestial fabric—a shimmering, translucent, and provocative piece—she moved like a living constellation, each drop of water sliding down her skin sparkling like shooting stars over a body that defied all mortal notions of beauty.
Her purple hair, still wet, fell over her shoulders and back, swaying with each step in fluid elegance. Her eyes, filled with cosmic hues, carried the beauty of galaxies and the threat of black holes—a promise of both pleasure and destruction.
Orion choked on a sip of wine that went down crooked, his throat betrayed by the sight.
"You're…trying to kill me or test me?" he asked in a hoarse voice, still unable to look away.
Lyra smiled. Not an ordinary smile—but that kind of smile no goddess should be able to wear without inciting war among pantheons.
"Seduction is a consequence, my love. I only came…to cool your mind. But if I'm causing quakes in your reality…well, what can I do?"
She approached slowly, like an irresistible wave. Her scent—a blend of ancient mist and flowers that bloomed only under forgotten moons—filled the air between them.
"By the way," she continued, sitting elegantly beside him on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other and the towel adjusted provocatively, "you still haven't explained why you activated the Primordial Flame. I studied the lineage of fire before Pyralis was born…and this kind of power shouldn't exist yet. Unless…you're setting up another game."
Orion watched her, completely captivated by the beauty and intelligence of the woman before him. It was an eternal paradox. She disarmed him with a touch and challenged him with a question.
"The Primordial Flame is older than the concept of time," he said thoughtfully. "It doesn't belong to the present, nor to the past. It simply…is. And Pyralis, by a divine mistake, crossed the boundary. She should have disintegrated. But instead…she was reborn as a spark. And I…merely offered her what she had already awakened."
Lyra rested her chin on her hand, studying him as if deciphering the universe's hidden lines.
"And the price?"
"It's already being paid," he answered without hesitation. "Her fire has already burned the Thread of Destiny. She is an entity outside the cycle now. If she fails…the Void devours. If she triumphs…the multiverse will have a new Force of Balance. And, if I may say so, a beautiful piece on the board."
She leaned toward him, now even closer, her lips mere millimeters from his neck.
"You keep creating pieces…and forgetting that sometimes pawns fall in love with the queen."
"I am the board," he whispered, holding his breath at her presence.
For a few seconds, the multiverse ceased to exist. There was no system, no Dao, no collapsing stars. There was only the sound of Lyra's breath mingled with the heat of Orion's skin.
Then she slowly pulled away, her smile still on her lips. She sat beside him with the air of someone who commands armies with a single raised eyebrow.
"And what about Eryndor? It's growing…but also drawing attention. The other Primordials must already be speculating."
"Let them speculate," Orion replied. "When they're ready to act…they'll see that I've already changed the rules of the game."
She laughed softly, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"That's what I love most about you…You don't play to win. You play to change the game itself."
Orion wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.
"And you…are the only one who understands what that means."
On the distant horizon, the multiverse continued to turn. But in that room shrouded by veils of time, reality, and desire…two primordial gods simply breathed, side by side.