For a long moment, nothing stirred. Even the pressure of their presence dimmed, as though the cosmos itself had forgotten to breathe.
Creation, first among them, shifted his stone pillar forward. His voicebroke the silence.
"Peculiar."
The word dropped like a seismic weight, rippling through the ethereal ground beneath Vastarael's feet.
"That's what you are," Creation continued. "Peculiar. Chaotic. Broken. A soul molded by entropy but defiant still. You broke my law, shattered it with full knowledge of what would happen. And yet, your logic holds. You wielded destruction as creation, death as preservation, time as hope."
Destruction spoke next, seething but no longer with rage.
"He tore down a moon, yes. But it wasn't a monument. It was a legacy meant to repeat cataclysm."
Her voice paused.
"I broke it once, eons ago. He only broke it again. I can forgive that."
Death exhaled and the temperature in the space dropped like an avalanche. Yet her tone was no longer cold.
"He used 800,000 lives to fuel the Awakening of another Divine. Lives harvested without consent. Souls siphoned. But he did not erase them. He wanted to restore them."
Life spoke.
"I disagree with the method. I disagree with the principle. Using souls as batteries is a line rarely crossed, even by gods. But... he never once blamed others. He never pleaded for innocence. Instead, he planned to pay the price. That's more than most Divine candidates can say."
Fate chuckled faintly.
"He challenged us like no one has in eons. That takes gall, especially for a soul with no anchor. I find myself... entertained."
Destiny spoke quietly and her voice was neither praise nor rebuke.
"His reward had not yet come because the cycle wasn't complete. He was still in the middle of the Suffering. He simply walked faster than we foresaw."
Space finally spoke again.
"He saved my Split. That alone would earn him my protection. But he didn't stop there. He made her ascend. He forced her through the barrier into Divinity with desperation. Not ideal... but effective."
Thyrexxa, standing upon the Pillar of Time, lowered her light slowly.
"I told you, didn't I? He is the boy I touched 25 years ago. The one I watched suffer. He did not know who he was but he endured, and in enduring, he grew teeth sharp enough to bite the threads of fate."
She paused.
"His actions bent time around his will. And in so doing, he reminded me of what we used to be. Before we called ourselves Supreme Entities."
Then came the vote.
Creation's crown lit white.
Destruction's turned crimson.
Death's glowed gray.
Life's flickered gold.
Fate's was purple.
Destiny's, was brown.
Space's, emerald.
Thyrexxa's shone in a blue glow.
All eight totems pulsed with light. He was not guilty.
Vastarael blinked, disbelief flashing across his features. The fog quivered with approval. One by one, the Primordials began to speak.
"It was immoral," Death admitted, "yes. But morality means little without intention."
"And your intention," Life followed, "was to restore what you broke. You thought ahead. You planned to rebuild them."
"You accepted the darkness of your actions," Destruction said. "You did not hide behind faults."
"You broke rules for the sake of evolution," Creation murmured. "That is what we once did. Before laws. Before... boundaries."
"You are a Split," Thyrexxa declared, stepping forward in radiant light. "Not by chance. Not by fate. But by choice. My choice."
Destiny stepped forward.
Her presence was not loud nor demanding. She wore no face but her voice was like a whisper written across the stars.
"You've spoken your truth. And though you broke many threads of the weave, you did so not out of rebellion, but to give meaning to pain, to restore what others discarded, to defend what you love even at the cost of being hated."
"Thank you?"
"You have endured much, Vastarael, both in the life before and the one you now call your own. For walking through that crucible with your heart intact, for refusing to let your agony corrupt your will, I, Destiny, offer you four wishes."
The other Primordials said nothing. Not one protested.
"You may ask for anything so long as it does not involve becoming a god or defying the foundational truths of the cosmos. The others will aid me, if necessary."
Vastarael blinked. "Four?"
"Four," she affirmed, her voice like a closing seal.
He didn't hesitate.
"My first wish is simple. I want to go back to the world I belong in and to the people I died for."
Destiny nodded once, and the glowing sigil pulsed with a quiet hum, absorbing the wish into itself.
"My second wish..." he paused, then looked directly at Thyrexxa, the Time Primordial, "I want the Divinity of Time. It's mine, isn't it? But I don't want it burdened by unnecessary major threads I want Time to be my Major Divinity."
He looked at Creation and Fate now, his tone firm but not proud.
"I don't want to shape nations with retribution. I want to wield time to heal what it has broken. Let Justice be an extension, not a weapon."
Destiny turned toward Thyrexxa, who nodded once.
"So be it," said the Mother of Time. "Granted."
"And your third wish?" Destiny asked.
Vastarael's eyes darkened with memory, with sorrow that clung like ash.
"Erna. She was bound to the moon, made a tool for its cycle. She suffered. She was never meant to carry that burden. My third wish… is to weaken that bond and let her live freely."
For the first time, the Primordials murmured among themselves. Destruction tilted her head and muttered, "The moon's influence is outdated anyway."
Creation, after a long thought, added, "Erna has long surpassed her fate. Let her choose what to become next."
One by one, they agreed.
The sigil glowed a third time. The wishes of the Split had been absorbed into the weave of reality.
Stillness returned but not for long. Vastarael frowned.
"And your final wish?"
"I want my fate changed."