Silence heavier than gravity reigned in the void.
Each voice had spoken already, some with wrath, others with restrained disappointment. Creation had just issued the demand.
"Defend yourself."
A command that, in all eternity, had never once been answered with defiance. But Vastarael Richinaria stood at the center of that infinite, shapeless plane and did the unthinkable.
He talked back.
First, he turned to Thyrexxa.
"What would have happened to the people of Erna Isles if I hadn't interfered?"
For a moment, there was nothing. Then, Time herself responded.
"They would have died. A solar flare would have eradicated all life on the Erna Isles… four hundred and eighty-three years later."
Vastarael's shoulders didn't move but the look in his eyes hardened.
"So then," he said, turning slowly toward Death, "you say I broke your laws. That I killed eight hundred thousand."
He raised his hands not in submission, but as a man holding a scale.
"But they were destined to die anyway. If their end was predetermined by time itself, then am I truly guilty of genocide? Or did I simply reallocate the moment of their fate?"
The Primordial of Death did not answer. But his pressure, once like a thousand graves breathing down Vastarael's spine. lightened slightly.
Then came his pivot. He faced Life.
"And Life. You say I took away innocent lives. But what is life if its only promise is death? What's the point of letting people live if they're fated to be erased anyway?"
He gave no room for interruption.
"I saved the person who could save others. I used the Harvesting not for power, not for glory, but to return Narisva's soul to her body and save her. You say I broke Creation's laws but you know what she became. She's a Divine, a Split, and one of the few reasons we will survive. If I hadn't done it, we would have died and the Dynasties would be at war if we never returned. I am here on trial for surviving."
He looked up at the great white light above the Pillars. His fists clenched.
"You say I'm a Split chosen by Time. A 'legacy' of a Primordial. Then why was I not told what that meant?"
He turned to Death again.
"Why was I not told I'd be judged for protecting someone? Why did no one tell me that survival was now a crime if it went against one of your... invisible mandates?"
The fog around the pillars began to stir but Vastarael did not stop. He stared at them all.
"Am I really on trial for breaking laws I didn't even know existed? What kind of justice is this?"
Again, no answer. Vastarael stepped forward.
"If I am guilty of anything, it's of not dying when I was supposed to."
He turned to Fate and Destiny.
"Destiny," he said, "I have your mark. The 'Suffering Before Reward' thing. My life on Earth and in Spheraphase has been nothing but agony."
His voice darkened.
"I was an orphan. I was hunted, tortured, experimented on. I lived in cages. I watched my world burn. I was dragged across timelines. I was made to fight things no sane mortal would even dream of. And you tell me that my 'reward' is… what? A quiet day with my family? Something that is not even considered a reward but a normal phase of life?"
Destiny remained silent. Vastarael scoffed, his head low now, shadows hiding his eyes.
"I don't need a throne. I never wanted to be a hero. You chose me. I didn't ask for any of this. Why are you not judging the Frozen God?"
All the fog stopped.
"Why are you not judging the one who turned five hundred thousand Sentient Krepsunas into hollow monsters? Why aren't you judging him for stealing lives without meaning, for erasing what made them who they are? Why aren't you judging the ones who knew better?"
He looked around.
"Or is this about rank? Is it because he's a god and I'm not?"
No one responded. The pressure changed.
"I lived through hell twice. And if I broke your laws in doing so, then maybe your laws weren't meant for past humans like me."
He stepped forward again, breathing steadily now.
"I used what little power I had to protect the person who needed to live and to bring balance to a world you left incomplete. And now, you stand here as my judges. Fine."
He faced Thyrexxa directly.
"You said the Epoch Cycle started."
Her voice stirred like a ticking clock.
"Yes."
"Then tell me something, Time. Was it me who began the Epoch Cycle? Or was it you?"
Thyrexxa didn't reply immediately.
"I was sent back to the past seven thousand, seven hundred years. I didn't initiate the cycle. You did. You're Time. You moved me. You planted the seed. You wanted this."
Creation stirred. Destruction faltered. Even Death withdrew. He stared up at the eight glowing crowns.
"So tell me, what else should I have done at Erna Isles?"
And for the first time in the eternity of the void, The Primordials had no answer.
"If I did not have the Destiny called Suffering Before Reward, if I had not been dragged into an Epoch Cycle whose sole purpose was to rewrite a history set on collapse, then no. I would not have done any of this."
The words weighed more than truth.
"I would not have harvested hundreds of thousands of souls. I would not have torn a moon from the sky or forced Narisva's soul to reenter her body. I would not have destroyed what was sacred to preserve what was vital. I would have died, perhaps even quietly, but I would not have done this."
He stepped forward, the fog recoiling under his bare translucent feet as though it feared his defiance.
"But you made that choice for me. You Primordials, who sit atop the laws of the universe, you decided that suffering must always precede peace. That a boy born into pain must earn his breath with blood. And now, when I survive, when I adapt, you act surprised? Furious?"
He spread his hands.
"Of course not even my words will change anything. Why would they? You're cosmic entities. You're not built to understand the ones below you. You exist to observe, not to empathize. You blame us not because it's fair but because it's easy. You punish people not for the actions they take but for daring to be born into circumstances they didn't choose."
"..."
"What did you expect me to do? Stand still and accept death? Let Narisva rot away because a law was written in a star chart a billion years ago? No. I did what Life would want. I endured. I accepted my consequences."
He turned slowly, deliberately, to Life and Death.
"I saw an opening and I took it. Because no matter how much pain I cause, I think before I act. I am not careless. And you want to know the part you ignored?"
He lifted his hand and the image of a black spire, an obsidian monument engraved with crimson runes appeared in the mist like a phantom memory. He didn't realize he was subconsciously using his Divinity of Justice.
"The souls of the 800,000 I harvested? They're not gone. They're not erased. Every last one of them resides within the Obsidian Runic Spire. Yes, I killed them. Yes, I used their Soul Energy. But I never intended to end them. I preserved their souls. Or rather, the moment I died, their souls were sent back to it."
His voice gained steel again.
"Once the Epoch Cycle ended, I planned to find Erna Isles, use my Aeterium gift, Body and Soul Reconstruction. I intended to reconstruct their souls and live as eternal souls as their afterlife."
He inhaled, his form flickering momentarily between soul and memory.
"I was prepared to sacrifice myself to restore them. And don't tell me you didn't notice it. Don't stand there as forces who govern the architecture of everything.and pretend you missed it."
Destruction stirred now shifting her pillar's light, as if unsettled.
"I am not good. I am not your divine martyr. I am not some perfect protagonist molded by the stars. I'm a monster, yes, but I'm a complete one."
His voice gained clarity now.
"And if I had been given the power of Time, if I had even known what being the Split of Time meant, if you had explained even once what I was becoming, maybe. just maybe, I would have made different choices. Maybe I would have stepped back. Maybe I would have endured even more. But you gave me no tools no guide, just... expectations."
He stopped walking.
"So punish me."
He lifted his arms.
"Do it. Because you're not here for justice. You're here because someone like me, a soul caught between pain and survival, refused to let a cosmic story dictate his choices."
He lowered his arms slowly.
"You let the Destras Cataclysm happen. Billions dead. First and Second Generation Deities slaughtered each other and whole continents burned. Did you intervene? Did you judge them?"
The Primordials did not speak.
"I am not even a god yet," Vastarael continued bitterly. "I am just a Divine Split without power. So why am I being judged?"
He turned toward the fog.
"You call yourselves the balance of the universe. You decide the fate of all creation. Then answer me this. Why am I here? And don't tell me it's to teach me something. Don't tell me it's to prepare me for my future. Because I'm already dead. I know I'm not going back. What more can you do to me? Erase me from existence? Make me suffer for all eternity? Sure, go ahead. Give me your judgment. After all, that's what gods do best."