The sky above Erna Isles had no stars in the eclipse.
Only one beam pierced the darkened heavens bursting from the apex of the Obsidian Runic Spire, an aurora of Soul Energy compressed into one colossal offering of existence itself.
It rose with the force of eight hundred thousand lives. And then it curved.
It bent against the pull of reality, threading across the stratosphere, spiraling toward the ocean's abyss before crashing beneath the waves, screaming downward into the Submerged Island, punching through its seabed and into the volcanic womb that once housed fire and chaos.
There, it found him.
Vastarael Richinaria, the Obsidian Towermaster, the Divine Aeterium, the man who had buried too many hopes beneath his own legacy, stood on a broken ledge as the beam struck him like a blade from the heavens.
And he didn't flinch. He closed his eyes and breathed it in.
His entire body flared with the weight of hundreds of thousands of spirits flooding into his Divine Core, each one screaming, begging, loving, and dying, and he accepted it not as empowerment… but as punishment.
His armor was shredded. His glaive pulsed and roared. His sapphire aura became liquid, coiling around him like a second skin made of sorrow and ash.
"I didn't want this. I never wanted this."
The mountain around him began to collapse entirely as the force of the Harvesting finished its descent, and Vastarael finally exhaled.
"But at the end of the day... I'm not a hero. I was never meant to be."
His voice cracked but it steadied again.
"The world isn't everyone. I am tired of being obligated to save the world."
And that was all he said. Then, he lifted his arm and cast it.
A a Seventh Star Divine Plasma Circle formed beneath his feet, its radius so massive that it eclipsed the entire volcanic mountain, forming seven concentric rings, Xinoraci Runes written on it.
The moment it activated, the mountain ceased to exist..
The volcanic stone was vaporized, reduced to molecular fragments, the Primofrost beams above them sliced apart and scattered by raw plasma energy that churned through dimensions, incinerating remnants of the Frozen God's attacks and sealing away his access for now.
The entire battlefield had been redefined. And in the center of the new crater, atop a single surviving platform of obsidian and sapphire crystal, stood Narisva Starisnova, still impaled atop the massive spire.
He walked to her.
His lips parted, and with the softest voice, laced with loss and power and reverence, he spoke words that were not commands, not spells, not commands of dominion but an incantation to Spheraphase.
"Upon the ruin of stars and ash I tread,
Where memories rot and gods have bled.
I call not life from dust or flame,
But love, that curse, that bears no name.
She, who fell for all to rise,
Crushed beneath her own sunrise.
Let my light, from soul and bone,
Be seed, and sun, and grave and stone.
I give her all. I take none back.
So break the chains. Unseal the crack.
Let not a god decide her fate,
Let I, the lost, unseal her gate."
With each line, the energy around him surged.
Sapphire stairs began to form slowly, as if the universe itself was bending its rules just for this one path. Each step he took shimmered and cracked the battlefield beneath him, Divine energy bled into the land and forced the ice to recoil in fear.
His Protection Divinity activated, forming a translucent dome around the pillar, severing it from the Frozen God's influence like a shield. And still he climbed.
The Primofrost tried to reach him again as spears of compressed winter shrieking from the edges of the battlefield but they bounced against his shield like pebbles against a warship, his Protection Divinity laced with the very essence of the 800,000 souls now flowing through his body.
By the time he reached step thirteen, Vastarael no longer looked normal.
His hair flowed like molten sapphire. His skin glowed with runes that pulsed in perfect rhythm with the beat of the world. He wasn't walking toward a woman pinned on a death altar. He was walking toward his oath. His star.
The pillar of ice groaned as he approached, the very presence of his energy disrupting the structure of the Primofrost, yet it refused to release her, still trying to hold onto her soul like a jealous god.
He felt the slow flicker of disintegration, like his body itself was surrendering to the sheer volume of energy surging through his Divine Core. The Harvesting wasn't designed for long-term preservation. It was a currency of finality. The longer he held it… the less of him remained.
His hand glowed not with light, but with that slow decay, sapphire particles spiraling into the air, flaking off his knuckles, wrists and forearms. His arm trembled… not from pain, but from the sheer overload. Every step he took further up the floating staircase carved from the harvested souls worsened it. His blood had stopped feeling like blood.
Below him, the frozen ruin of Submerged Island lay lifeless and silent. The entire mountain range was dusted in silver-blue permafrost, the battlefield now a frozen canvas of death and stillness. Shards of her broken scythe were embedded across her chest, shoulders, and thighs, frozen inside her like cruel thorns.
Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes were dim. She was still alive but just barely.
"You're insane! You slaughtered eight hundred thousand lives just to gain enough energy to reach her?! That's not devotion! That's genocide!"
The words came from The Frozen God, now fully manifested, his voice echoing like a glacier cracking beneath pressure. His immense presence overshadowed the entire chasm of battle, a Forgotten Rank being reborn through Origin Elemental Power. And yet, despite his fury…
Vastarael just chuckled. He tilted his head back to the storm-churned sky above and whispered with a crooked, tired smile:
"Isn't that your thing? Genocide, frozen thrones and killing your own kin. Why are you so bothered, then? I thought you were the villain."
There was no anger in his voice. He didn't even look at the Frozen God again. Instead, he took another step. And another. And another. By the time he reached her, half his armor was gone. His right boot was missing. His left shoulder had already become stardust. But his eyes were clearer than ever.
She was still hanging there, the Primofrost freezing her insides alive.
He reached forward and one by one, he removed the shards of her scythe. He blew on each shard softly, and with each breath, the fragment shimmered and disappeared, absorbed into her chest like stars fading into a void.
"You won't need this anymore. You won't need to use a weapon to justify your existence."
His fingers were nearly skeletal now but he pressed one trembling hand to her heart.
"The Celestial sealed inside your scythe will now live inside you, in your own dimension. You've earned that right. You always had."
The Frozen God snarled from above, his monstrous form crackling. He finally manifested as a three meter tall monstrosity that did not look human.
"You'll die, Vastarael. You know that. You'll cease. That body can't handle another minute. You're not even resisting anymore. Are you really going to throw your life away for her?!"
That made Vastarael pause. He turned.
"Of course I'll die. That was obvious the second I started walking this staircase. You see, unlike you, I don't need to live forever. I don't need to freeze everyone around me to feel like a god. You killed your wife, Erna. And your adopted children. I know everything."
The Frozen God twitched.
"You don't know anything."
"I know enough," Vastarael cut in. "I know what it's like to protect daughters that aren't your blood. I know what it feels like to want to keep your world small because it's the only way you feel safe. And I know that when those eight Krepsuna kids Erna adopted gave me their Pseudo-Cores, they were saying goodbye."
He finally turned away again, facing Narisva, pressing his forehead gently to hers.
"You wonder how I know they're dead? Simple. They never spoke to me again. Not once. Their final wish was for someone to protect their family. And I did."
He lifted her just slightly and pulled her off the spike as the final portion of his back began to disintegrate. He looked up, one last time, and his smile returned.
"I won't take revenge. That's not mine to carry. After all, I'm just a handsome prince, remember? Revenge won't be mine but hers."