The last two words—Beyonder, Pathways—did not belong in the cold, dusty hall of a forgotten cathedral. They sounded ancient, impossibly large, like fragments of granite ripped from the foundation of the world.
Kane blinked. His eyes were still adjusting from the fading internal light of his Realmheart form. The confusion was genuine and deep.
"Nope," he replied, the sound coarse in his throat. "Never heard of them."
Beside him, Missy, whose unnerving silence had only been broken by the sudden, flat question, echoed him, her voice perfectly devoid of inflection. "Me neither."
The answer was immediate, yet Linia seemed to have expected it. She took a deep, steadying breath, the action itself seeming to prepare her for an irreversible act. The polite smile was gone, replaced by a terrifying mask of ancient resolve.
"Then understand this," she said, her voice dropping again, but this time it was no longer a whisper. It was a low, resonant hum, like the sound of a vast subterranean engine turning over. "There are going to be a lot of shockers."
Kane, who had just been forced to utilize a demigod-level transformation to fight a serpentine monster born of pure dread, felt a fresh, cold prickle of anticipation. He met her gaze, a grim challenge in his eyes.
"Try me."
Linia—or whatever the person standing before him truly was—did not flinch. Her eyes, usually the shade of warm mahogany, seemed to absorb the dim light, growing darker, deeper, colder.
"Well, my name is Philanias. Not Linia."
The revelation hung in the air, a physical weight. Kane and Missy were shocked—Missy, simply because she was surprised; Kane, because the sudden shift in identity seemed to retroactively erase every moment they had shared, replacing the familiar friend with an absolute, mythological stranger.
Kane's mouth tightened. He felt a profound sense of having been violated by a truth he hadn't sought. "Nope, continue."
He didn't need to ask why she'd lied; the sheer, devastating weight of the truth she was about to unpack was the reason itself. This wasn't a secret; it was a self-defense mechanism.
****
The world dissolved. The cold stone of the cathedral, the grime, the sound of their ragged breathing—all vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, agonizing surge of primordial memory within Philanias's mind, forcing Kane and the unnervingly attentive Missy into a state of frozen, unwilling audience.
Philanias woke up in a void.
It was not merely darkness; it was the chilling, absolute absence of existence, a primordial blankness that stripped away sensation, purpose, and reality. Here, in the infinite monochrome of non-being, the memories of a life that felt a million years long rushed back to her, agonizingly clear.
She remembered her truth. She was a born god, a divine entity who had not ascended, but had existed in a state of grace, nurturing her own celestial existence. Her divinity, paradoxically, was tethered to the mortal plane: she had gained the very essence of humanity from the faith, love, and simple hopes of her believers in the Nation of Evernight.
She had lived a life that was both grand and simple, a cycle of peace with her beloved brother, Antigonus, in the lush, sheltered in the Hornacis Mountain Range in their Nation of Evernight, a realm she had personally shaped. This peace had begun only after the great, sorrowful death of her father.
But the cosmos had a cruel, chaotic gravity. Everything changed thanks to Amanises.
The name of the deity tasted like ash and iron on Philanias's spiritual tongue: the Goddess of Misfortune. The change was not a war, not a conflict—it was an event. Amanises did not fight; she erased.
Philanias's memory was suddenly filled with the searing, horrifying visions of the genocide. Her people of Evernight Nation was destroyed
She had fought, But it was useless. Amanises, a person whom she knew. She sealed her brother, Antigonus, in the throne: Philanias herself was seized, her divine essence twisted, and she was used as some kind of sealed Artifact—which is used —for 'her' own horrific Descent into the world
The memory was a psychic knife twist, and in the chilling neutrality of the void, her hatred burned hotter than any star. She despised the Goddess of Misfortune with every fragmented fiber of her being. Whatever the obscure, world-breaking reason for her actions—a chess move in a game only high-level gods understood—it was irrelevant. The result was extinction.
It was in this deep, cold well of hate that a sudden, powerful intrusion broke the void's silence. It was a voice of a deity, not the cold, annihilating voice of Amanises, but something different—vast, ancient, yet somehow tinged with a weary, knowing warmth.
It spoke across the gulf of non-existence, its words echoing in the silence of her non-body:
"Mother of the Sky, Welcome here."
"Where am I?" she demanded, her terror now transmuted into pure, defiant will.
The Voice, calm and possessing a terrifying authority, replied: "You are going to a new world. Brace yourself."
The weight of this casual pronouncement was unbearable. Philanias was shocked to the core. A new world? After the extinction of her own? But only one thought mattered, one mission transcended all divine despair.
"Wait, what about my brother?"
The Voice paused. The silence was not empty, but filled with the sound of cosmic gears grinding. When it finally spoke, the words carried a catch, a horrible caveat that twisted the hope in her heart into dread.
"He will also be there. Not only him, a few souls from this world will go there. But there is a catch."
Mother of the Sky felt a primal, maternalistic frown cross her intangible face. She asked the ancient entity, hastily and with mounting panic: "What is the catch?"
The Voice replied, its tone a chilling blend of fatalism and amusement: "The souls from this world will not be placed in the same time. Each will occupy a different time."
The full, horrifying implication hit her like a supernova blast. She reasoned, her god-mind working desperately against the crushing pressure of the truth: "So, my brother will not be there. He might have lived his life already, or yet to be born."
The Voice chuckled, a sound like distant thunder across the void. "Correct. So be aware."
Mother of the Sky sank deeper into the cold dread. The sheer randomness, the ultimate separation, was another exquisite form of torture. After a terrifying moment of processing her new, scattered fate, she asked the only remaining, logical question.
"Why are we going to this world?"
The Voice laughed—a deep, booming sound that shook the very foundations of the void. "It is a transaction for a friend." And with a final, chilling note of finality, it added: "Enjoy your second chance, Mother of the Sky."
As the time progressed, marking the terrifying approach of the moment of departure, Mother of the Sky made one final, desperate plea, attempting to pierce the veil of the deity's anonymity.
"Who are you?"
The Voice did not reply. The void became a vortex of pure, rushing energy, and the Mother of the Sky vanished.
The view changed abruptly.
The Voice vanished, and the perspective shifted to a quiet, dimly lit, yet infinitely vast space. It was dominated by a colossal,long table surrounded by empty chairs. At one end of the primary chair, a God sat there.
He was the center of all things in this terrifying chamber. He radiated an aura that was both serenely divine and unbelievably heavy—the weight of countless epochs and solved mysteries. He was clearly a greater being, one who had not just reached the Throne of Divinity but had endured the terrifying, bloody struggles for his future
Suddenly, a different voice cut through the silence. It was cool, metallic, and slightly arrogant, coming from an object on the table. A Mirror spoke.
The artifact was a thing of chilling, crafted beauty: a silver mirror roughly twenty-two centimeters in height, the back covered in looping, ancient patterns. On each side of the reflective surface at the front, there was a detailed, unsettling eye-like pattern.
"Great Master, is it necessary to do this?" the mirror, named Arrodes, inquired.
The divine being—the Greater Being—looked toward the mirror, his expression unreadable.
"Yes, Arrodes. I am giving them a second chance to live."
He then looked at one of the empty chairs, He was thinking of one of the members of the Tarot Club who was destined to lose his life far too early, a soul who was definitively not from his world.
Klein Moretti, the divine figure, whose true identity was now a frightening composite of human struggle and cosmic power, looked upon the empty spot. He finally spoke, his voice filled with a finality that spoke of impossible sacrifices and unavoidable cosmic war.
"It seems The Emperor's last transaction was fulfilled."
He waited for a moment, the weight of his actions settling across the cosmos. Then, with a flicker of thought, he summoned the Tarot Club members for his last gathering before he would be forced to enter a deep, protracted slumber— thanks to Lord of the Mysteries
One by one, the chairs were filled. The faithful, the loyal, the terrified, and the brave—the chosen few who had helped him ascend: Audrey Hall, Alger Wilson, Derrick Berg, Fors Wall, Emlyn White, Cattleya, Leonard Mitchell, and Xio Derecha.
Audrey Hall, the kind, perceptive psychologist, noticed the stark absence, the final, terrifying change. Her thoughts were quiet, respectful, and devastating. 'Mr. World and Mr. Emperor is Missing,'
And thus, under the gaze of a God about to hibernate and fight the greatest horror of all, The last regular Gathering of the Tarot club has commenced.
*******
The trauma of the transition was visceral. Philanias's overwhelming essence was crammed, painfully and violently, into a new, terrifyingly small vessel.
Philanias woke up in a child-like body.
The sheer, agonizing disorientation was overwhelming. Her adult mind, capable of moving mountains and commanding the stars, was now trapped in a weak, soft cage. She blinked, her vision blurry, and saw her hair: it was a vibrant, unnatural turquoise—a color that signaled her profound displacement in this world.
She was being held, gently but firmly, in the arms of a youthful-looking man. He was a stranger, yet his aura was protective, almost reverent. He gazed down at her with an expression of quiet determination.
He gently touched her forehead, a gesture of ownership and care, and spoke the words that anchored her identity in this new, alien reality:
"Philanias. That is what your name will be."
Mother of the Sky was shocked to her very core. Her forbidden, true name, uttered so casually in this New World by a stranger. It was a terrifying sign that the cosmic transaction was complete, and the deity's casual disregard for mortal secrecy was absolute.
But the existential horror was quickly overwhelmed by the one, singular, overriding directive that superseded all godhood, all hatred, all terror. It was the only reason she had accepted the transition, the reason she was reborn.
To her, the only mission that mattered in this new, vast, and terrifying existence was to find her brother, Antigonus.
I hope this greatly expanded and more intense version captures the horrific and cosmological dread you were looking for while keeping the original plot intact! Let me know if you would like to explore the concepts of the Beyonder Pathways in more detail or focus on the immediate psychological fallout for Kane after this devastating reveal.
=============================
I made it as accurate as Possible,So,How was it?
Kindly Give me review Comments and Powerstones
Here are the few Webnovel stories I might start (not Immediately,But surely I will)
1.Shadow Slave: Lumian Lee
Spoilers for the Domain war:
Lumian Lee and Aurora Lee,who was awakened who was in Valor Clan,When lord of shadows and Song of the fallen Siezed the domain from the Soveriegn,Unfortunate things befalled on them,What happened?Lumian must forge his own path from his own blood and conflicts
2.LOTM:New Greater Old One
Morpheus,the transmigrated into the world of lord of the mysteries,is forced to take the most crazy pathway switches that makes even alista Tudor see sane
3.LOTM:I am king Grey
The original MC of Tbate,King Grey/Arthur Leywin,when he died,what will happen he transmigrated into Loen Kingdom instead of Dicathen?
4.Shadow Slave: I am Azik Eggers
A transmigrator who landed on Shadow slave named himself Azik Eggers,unknowingly followed a fixed fate.