"This is the Beginning of the End, Lord Tian (天)..."
"Decree the final sentence. But remember..."
"After this decree has passed, I will no longer bow to the heavenly edicts."
"My loyalty lies with the 'Heaven's Prosperity' only. For eighteen long heavenly years, I shall lay down my weapons."
"But mark my words—I will return. And when I do, I will seek justice, even if it means fighting tooth and nail to claim it."
These were the words spoken by the Wraithblade Sentinel before he descended upon the Divine Continent of Equinox, entering the fateful war destined to bring slaughter.
The war was indeed a massacre—a cataclysmic end.
It was a war ignited by the Wraithblade himself, who sought justice and the sovereign rights denied to him upon his return.
The entire Heaven of the Spiral Myriad rose against a single outcast deity. Yet, none could stand against the Wraithblade's might. That day, the flames of countless stars were snuffed out beneath his fury.
"All this for those bygone grievances?"
"That Wraithblade actually believes he can trample upon the Heavens?"
"Keh! A mere child who ascended to godhood only six thousand years ago dares to challenge the Heavens?"
"Even as one of the Transcended, he is but a single deity."
"Do not worry. This is but the arrogance of one man. Soon he will grovel before the mercy of the hundred and eight thousand deities."
Though such words were spoken, the Heavenly forces could not withstand the Wraithblade's wrath. Even those he once called acquaintances, friends, or brothers and sisters—he cut down without mercy.
When they pleaded with him to end this madness, the Wraithblade's answer was cold, final, and unwavering.
Before his adored ones, he gave his verdict: "This war was initiated to purify the Heavens—whose servants dared to cross the sacred boundary of Li (礼)."
"But why the slaughter?" one mournfully asked.
"Because none spoke when those boundaries were crossed." A regretful echo lingered in his voice.
"You, me, and all of us Heavenly beings are guilty of allowing such transgressions without just cause." The Wraithblade admitted this guilt.
They were wise beings, yet even with knowledge, they committed an unforgivable sin and must be punished. "This is our Karma—the end of an old order that failed to uphold the sacred law."
"But—" a voice tried to object.
"Silence." The Wraithblade declared solemnly, "Fight this war without regard for me as neither an acquaintance, friend, or family. All you have to do is defeat me, and let the Way (Tao) be the judge of mercy."
The war raged on, leaving countless grievous scars—both upon the solitary Wraithblade and the entire Heavenly Order.
"Husband." A serene grace lingered in her voice—the presence of the withering maiden who once moved the Wraith to tears, who made him desire nothing more.
A faint smile touched the maiden's lips as she whispered through the decaying wind, "You have blossomed like a lotus upon the muddied Heavens."
"Kyorin, from now on," she decreed softly, "the Crimson Lotus shall be the symbol tied to you. The one who renunciates the Heaven."
Faint memories of the past stirred—a time when Kyorin faced a choice between the throne and her.
Despite the boundless beauty that called to him, he chose her—an ordinary flower amidst a garden of splendor.
When she asked why, his answer was simple: "Looking at you alone is enough to make all greed and desire vanish."
Her trembling hand caressed the black blade in the Wraith's grasp. Near its guard, etched delicately into the steel, was a single vivid crimson lotus mark.
"Pew—" Blood welled from her lips as her end neared.
Yet the Wraith remained unmoved by her suffering—his only response was silent tears and a face carved in detachment.
She reached out, tracing the brutal wounds she had inflicted upon him, and asked weakly, "You could have dodged… but why didn't you?"
"Similar to you," the Wraith replied, his tone unwavering, "I love you."
He looked at her with a faint smile, tears spilling down his cheeks as his pale yellow eyes met her red ones. "I love you wholly... my wife."
"Everything—even death—if it comes from your hand," the Wraithblade whispered gently, embracing the bloodied maiden. "I will accept it, but..."
"Why are you always so hesitant to ask your husband, goddess?" the Wraithblade chuckled softly, his gaze steady as he looked at her.
His voice was soft, affectionate as he held his dying wife, the one he himself had fatally wounded. "Is it so difficult... for a wife to ask her husband for his death? Or perhaps..."
The maiden, burned this image of her dearest in her heart, as he asked her, "Has your husband also become mad in your eyes, like everyone else claims?"
The maiden smiled softly, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. "I fear my husband is so sane amidst the entirety of Heaven, that those who are truly mad have begun to call him mad."
The Wraith remained silent, murmuring to himself, "You could have ended me, and this war, goddess."
His voice was low, etched with the weight of defeat, sorrowful at his wife's reluctance to ask what he would have freely given: his life.
As the maiden's figure slowly dissolved—returning to the five elements—he whispered in annoyance, "You only had to ask... tch, stupid wife."
Once the maiden vanished, and her sigil shattered, chaos erupted within the Heavenly Order's stronghold—where only twenty-one remained.
"That demon... he even killed his own wife!"
"Now we must seek justice—for the Maiden of Prosperity!"
"That is no husband. That is a monster."
"Tomorrow will mark the final conclusion of this war."
"Either the wicked shall reign over the Heavens, or the final upholders of justice will vanquish the dark clouds that shroud it."
As the Heavenly Order vowed to slay the so-called demon, the Wraith stood—wounded in every way—beneath the vast sky. His navy hair fluttered, the winds sweeping away the last remnants of his departed wife.
Lifting his gaze to the heavens, he cried out: "O Tao... please, be magnanimous enough to accept my wife back into the Eternal Oneness—let her find peace within you."
A breath caught in his throat as he continued, his voice trembling: "And... grant me the penance for the murder of my wife."
As if the heavens had heard him, a sacred wind stirred. The Wraith's ears twitched. His eyes widened. And then, with solemn reverence, he bowed deeply.
"It shall be done."
Dawn had broken—but it brought no light, only an omen. This was the end. The final battle between the fractured heavens had begun.
A macabre crimson bled into the sky, tinting the early light with the hue of death. Rivers of molten magma slithered across the ravaged earth like fiery serpents, hissing through the desolate battlefield.
On one side stood the demon. On the other, the remnants of the Heavenly Order—its last defenders poised for a final stand. At their forefront stood a man with a gaze as heavy as judgment and an aura honed to a blade's edge.
The Sword God: Yoon Jun.
He stepped forward, eyes locked onto the lone figure across the field.
"Dan Kyorin," Jun called out, voice clear like steel drawn from its sheath. "Why?"
Kyorin looked back, calm and unreadable, then spoke. "Be direct, Jun. Like your sword."
"The maiden… why?" Yoon Jun asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he spun the well-worn tales whispered among the gods—tales of the heavenly henpecked god.
He still remembered those days when gossip clung to the heavens like clouds to the sky, weaving stories about an odd couple.
"I heard the Wraith got kicked out of the house by the maiden."
"Again? What happened this time?"
"The maiden simply refused to see him. She shooed him away."
"Hah! Serves him right for marrying the 'Prosperity Maiden'. Honestly, if he knew anything, he should have known that 'Prosperity' is the most fickle of the goddesses."
"He should have been more manly. What is he? A simp?"
"Do you think if the maiden told him to die, he'd drop dead on the spot?"
"Most certainly."
"I even heard they haven't… engaged in those practices since their wedding."
"Shhh! Don't forget—the Maiden of Prosperity is a symbol of purity. Such things are forbidden for her."
"He should've just left her single. Why marry her at all?"
"But I must admit, she looked unmatched on her wedding day."
"Oi, manners! Speak not of other gods' wives in such a tone."
Yoon Jun recalled the quiet conversations of the past—the whispers among the divines. He also remembered that on that very night—under open skies, he found the Wraithblade lying alone on a field of quiet grass.
"Wait, what are you doing here?" Jun asked, eyes widening in disbelief.
"Sleeping," Kyorin replied flatly, eyes half-closed, voice barely above a breath.
"You have a house, don't you?" Jun asked, incredulous—though deep down, he already knew why Kyorin had chosen this place. "Do you even know what the other Divines have started calling you?"
"Their gossip and chatter," Kyorin muttered, lazily shifting his head to the other side, "are their problems. Why should I bother myself with what others think of me?"
"It's better to uphold an image," Jun said seriously, his tone sharp as his gaze narrowed. "You're a Divine—your conduct reflects the harmony of the Heavens."
Kyorin stirred, then smirked faintly. "Now that… is a dangerous topic, Sword God."
His words hung in the air, as if he were building toward some great truth. Jun waited, ears straining to listen.
Time passed, and he waited.
More time passed, and he still waited.
Until it struck him.
'Don't tell me…'
He walked to the other side and looked down at Kyorin—already sound asleep.
"You—!" Jun started to hurl a thunderous rant, drawing in a deep breath, ready to unleash righteous fury...
But then stopped. A sudden thought interrupted the storm: 'Why am I even bothering?'
That's when it hit him. The realization was as gentle as it was profound.
Much like how he was now, Kyorin simply was—unbothered, unchained by perception or expectation.
He didn't perform divinity. He lived honestly within it. He could sleep on the grass or ignore the criticism of immortals because none of it bound him.
Jun looked at him quietly. A trace of respect softened his features. Slowly, he knelt beside the sleeping figure and bowed his head in reverence.
"You truly are worthy of the title Uncrowned Lotus," he whispered.
The entire Heaven—Equinox—knew that name well—Kyorin, the Lotus untouched by the mud of the Heavens.
However, this Lotus no longer floated atop the mud—now it bloomed in blood.
Yoon Jun's question hung in the air as Kyorin replied, "Because this is war, Sword God."
With quiet conviction, Kyorin added, "Also..."
"Also what?" Jun asked, unconsciously straining to catch his words.
Kyorin's response was flat, yet carried enough weight to command respect: "I am well aware that you sent my wife to me so that she could ask me to die—and I would have died."
He glanced toward the Heavenly Court. The assembled gods avoided his gaze, except for Yoon Jun, who waited silently for the rest.
"My head would have been laid at her feet if she had asked... but she did not. Do you know why?" Kyorin challenged.
Yoon Jun considered the question carefully. "As the Goddess of Prosperity, I believe she knows what truly brings prosperity..."
Jun's words lingered as he mulled over their meaning. "She believed your death would not bring prosperity. So she did not demand it."
Kyorin nodded slowly. "You have good insight, Yoon Jun. But there is more."
"Enlighten me," Jun said.
Kyorin's voice grew serious. "She was right—not only because she is Prosperity, but because she is a wife. And..." He smirked faintly, "a wife is always right."
Yoon Jun deadpanned, but inside, others trembled with unspoken thoughts: 'Exactly how much flattery can one spare for his wife?'
No one dared voice the thought aloud, especially since they recalled the moment during a Heavenly meeting.
At that time, this man had made quite a bold statement before the entire court: "It's ludicrous even to entertain the idea that there could be any woman more beautiful than Prosperity. Like, it's impossible."
Yeah, this resulted him in being kicked out for a month since Prosperity was flustered.
Regardless, something lifted from the chest of the remaining Heavenly Order—they became aware that they had been wrong to judge this man as one who had merely driven his cold blade into the Maiden of Prosperity without any affection.
"You must still repent for killing your wife—as her husband," declared one of the elder gods, the God of Tandem: the balance of good and evil.
Kyorin bowed his head solemnly.
"I have not forgotten my place," he admitted quietly. "And the Way has already given me my penance."
Before anyone could speak further, Kyorin drew his blade—named Sanguine—with swift precision.
In one clean stroke, he severed his own head, offering both of the eyes to the sun as a solemn gift before the assembled gods.
The deities watched in still silence as Kyorin's voice echoed, faint yet unwavering: "Now, let us fight this final battle."
He set his severed head gently on the ground. His vision was gone; his mind no longer accompanied him. He now fought solely on instincts.
"Wait..." Yoon Jun called out, blocking a devastating strike from the headless body of the Wraithblade.
"What if we all die?" Jun's voice trembled with a hint of apprehension as all twenty-one gods fought in unison against the relentless foe.
The severed head of Kyorin answered coldly, "This cowardice does not befit you, Sword God."
"Remember," Kyorin's voice reprimanded, "That headless body is no longer a fellow god, the Uncrowned Lotus, nor even a man. It is but an entity of the opposing force in this war. So simply fight—and worry not about the results."
Jun blocked another furious strike. The headless form had already felled two gods. Hesitation clouded Jun's mind: 'If everyone dies...'
"JUN!" Kyorin shouted as the headless body unleashed a relentless barrage—each strike powerful enough to shake the very fabric of existence.
Some managed to evade the onslaught, including Jun himself. But those caught were swiftly met with decisive, fatal blows.
Kyorin's voice rang out again, commanding and unwavering: "Fight!"
"I see," Jun said quietly. At that moment, he let go of his sword and surrendered, his body moving as if no longer under his control—like the headless man before him.
The other gods recognized this moment of enlightenment and intercepted the headless figure's advance.
"Kugh… damn, why isn't this Lotus crowned yet?" one deity ranted, frustration bleeding through as their divine techniques faltered against the headless man.
"Can't hold much longer… Kugh!" another fell. Only six remained now—including Jun, who had become completely still.
Though their attacks appeared ordinary, every blow to a god's immortal body shattered stars, collapsed galaxies, and unraveled universes.
The gods avoided direct involvement in war because each was intrinsically tied to reality itself. To harm a god was to destabilize existence—every wound sent shockwaves through the cosmos.
Thus, their participation in battle risked unraveling the very worlds they were meant to
Only three remained—including Yoon Jun. At last, he opened his eyes and asked, "Why did you demand a war like this?"
Kyorin's response was flat, "Because the sacred boundary of Li (礼) was crossed. We failed to uphold that duty." There was no hint of regret; to him, it was a matter long past.
The verdict had already been delivered, as Yoon Jun replied with determination, "I wish to believe in the existing Heavenly Order."
"Face my sword, if you dare." Yoon Jun drew his blade and executed a simple poke towards Kyorin.
The headless form responded in kind with an upswing. But how could the sword of a Sword God be rivaled?
Sanguine unraveled itself before Ryujin—the Sword God's blade—being cut clean in two, and fell with a thud.
A huge hole was torn in the headless body's chest, stars glittering away like dust carried on the wind.
The war was over.
The three survivors approached the fallen form of the Uncrowned Lotus and declared with finality, "The Heavenly doctrines of Equinox will prove their righteousness."
With the war finally ended, the remaining gods gathered solemnly to discuss the fate of the fractured cosmos and the monumental task ahead—how to restore and rebuild what had been shattered.
This incident had become a matter of the past. Without hesitation or regret, the remnants set about fulfilling their duties.
Having fought a war of such magnitude, each attained Moksha—liberation from the cycle of existence—and was welcomed by Xian (僊), the embodiment of Transcendence.
Yet among the liberated ones, one voice cried out: "One Lotus."
As if a sacred incantation, those two words echoed across existence—triggering a great shift. A complete cleansing followed, as the ego once known as the Wraithblade—Dan Kyorin—was stripped away.
The soul, now unbound, was once again cast into the cycle of Samsara, descending into the human realm.
There, in the indescribable stretches of the cosmos—where bubbles, discs, and specks shimmered like divine breath—lay a distant froth of stars.
Among one of its many spiraling discs was a single dot known as Solaris-III.
And this… was the new beginnings.
To be continued...