I. The Path of the Realm Master
He did not ride a gate.
He did not command an army.
He did not announce his march.
Zaxton—now adorned by the crimson Mourning Ring—became something beyond the planetary hierarchy. His aura no longer aligned with orbit or law. Even in motion, he radiated stillness—like the pause between a lightning flash and the thunder.
He stepped from the Bastion's edge into the firmament—and space folded beneath him.
Each step left ripples that bent the heavens.
Planets paused in their orbit as he passed, as if gravity itself made room.
He traveled through old constellations and dead sectors, harvesting vengeance like starlight. He liberated his captured people from orbiting labor camps, but he left no one behind alive in the process—not even those who surrendered. Mercy had died alongside Jin.
He did not just destroy cities. He ungrew them, unraveling time and space until they never existed.
And still, he walked.
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II. The Panic in Cynosure
Far to the north of the Fourth Realm, on a radiant supercontinent shrouded in gold-light mist, sat the Cynosure Core, the seat of the Gas Giant Empire.
Once unchallenged. Now, trembling.
The High Rings gathered. Nine Gas Giants, each a celestial monarch, each mass enough to bend realms. They had names carved into time itself: Thal'Ruum the Gravity Sage, Vorunna the Endless Coil, Xerthos of the Black Typhoon…
Even among them, fear was unspoken but thick.
They had seen the recording—the compression of two stable planetary rings into a Mourning Ring, an act considered metaphysical suicide. Yet the Realm Master stood afterward—stronger, darker, and untouchable.
Worse yet—Icarus had gone silent.
The Golden Ringed Planet who had protected Zaxton, once merely a curiosity, was now seen for what he was:
A God in Hiding.
Worse still—Zaxton was coming, and they had no idea how.
They doubled their planetary defenses.
They activated Nebula Protocol, summoning gasborn elders from deep vacuum.
They constructed Celestial Shields, powered by fallen suns and fossilized void beasts.
And yet…
In the throne chamber, a younger gas prince whispered to his mother, Vorunna:
> "He is still a dwarf planet, yes?"
Vorunna looked down upon her trembling son.
And whispered back:
> "No. Not anymore."
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III. Zaxton's Approach
By the 70th day of his march, eight star systems no longer existed.
Their remnants became dust rings in his wake.
By the 80th, a Ringed Planet named Lios knelt before him and begged for death.
Zaxton offered none.
He sealed him in orbit forever—alive, but never again able to rotate.
By the 90th, he was seen in deep Cynosure space.
Three moons collapsed from fear.
Their celestial hearts imploded.
By the 100th day, he stood before the gates of Cynosure Core.
No army.
No flag.
No speeches.
Only a quiet rage heavier than any planet.
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IV. The First Strike
Thal'Ruum himself descended from orbit, surrounded by his cosmic gravitas, carrying the legendary Event Horizon Spear, forged from the edge of a dying black hole.
He spoke first:
> "Realm Master… you've come to die on your feet?"
Zaxton looked up.
His Mourning Ring turned sideways, rotating backward against all law.
And he said:
> "You think I came to die."
Then he shattered the Spear of Thal'Ruum with a single flick of his hand.
And cut the gas giant open from atmosphere to core.
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V. The War Begins
The skies above Cynosure ignite.
Moons fall.
Celestial constructs shatter.
Zaxton's vengeance becomes a legend written in the blood of gods.
One Gas Giant falls, then another.
Their vast bodies crash into their own rings, choking their people in thunder and smoke.
Still, he hunts for the one who killed Jin.
But he takes his time.
Let them feel what it is to be helpless.
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VI. Epilogue: The Mourning Ring Burns Brighter
No one knows what will be left of Cynosure when Zaxton is finished.
Some say the Fourth Realm will tilt in its orbit.
Others say a new planetary class will be born.
But all agree on one thing:
Year 160 – Day 132 of the Vengeance War
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I. The Heart of Rage
The skies of Cynosure had turned black.
Not from night—but from ash.
Zaxton moved through the Gas Giant Empire like a celestial plague. Nothing escaped him. Not warlords, not hidden cities, not command fleets cloaked behind deep orbit veils. He hunted not with fury, but with surgical brutality.
But one name echoed in his soul like a brand:
> Maerxus
The one who killed Jin.
Zaxton found him at the core of the Prime Furnace, a hyper-reactor forged to burn entire moons for energy. Maerxus had stood atop its molten stage, proud of what he'd done.
He hadn't expected Zaxton to arrive so soon.
He hadn't expected Zaxton's eyes to carry silence and wrath made flesh.
He begged. He fought. He wept.
Zaxton didn't speak.
He ripped his rings apart, one by one—each tear awakening the gravity within them.
Zaxton did not kill Maerxus quickly.
He compressed him.
Cell by cell.
Crushing him into a living starcore, until he became a shrieking point of mass—forever burning, forever alive, imprisoned in agony.
He then locked the core beneath the ruins of Cynosure's capital, sealed with a single planetary law:
> "Let no heir rise from blood so cowardly."
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II. When the Blue Mist Stirred
But Zaxton's massacre had echoed too far.
From the eastern fold of the Fourth Realm, the Blue Mist Empire began to stir.
Six Gas Giants marched under their silver-blue banners, speaking of balance, order, and restraint.
They claimed Zaxton's war was too violent, too destabilizing.
They demanded his sealing.
They began constructing an Orbit Cage that could trap even a Ringed Planet.
The world tensed.
Would they go to war with the Realm Master?
Would Zaxton fall?
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III. The Golden Mist Appears
And then—the impossible arrived.
A golden mist rolled across the stars. Ancient, glittering, silent. It did not move like gas.
It moved like a dragon uncoiling across the firmament.
From the golden aurora emerged a single, godlike presence.
The only one of his kind.
> Elarion, the Golden Mist Gas Giant.
True Sovereign of the Dragon Scale Empire.
Power beyond planetary law.
Power that bends cause and consequence.
Behind him stood none other than Icarus, no longer hidden, no longer laughing.
Now kneeling in full reverence.
The Dragon Scale Empire had only ever interfered once in the history of the Fourth Realm.
This was the second time.
Elarion spoke just once to the Blue Mist Armada:
> "You've mistaken dominion for tyranny, and justice for disruption."
He waved his hand.
Their Orbit Cage shattered like sand.
The Blue Mist Armada did not resist.
They simply turned and left.
No battle.
No words.
Just the silent realization that Zaxton was protected by a force older than recorded realm history.
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IV. The Realm Settles—But Never Forgets
With the Blue Mist scattered and Cynosure broken, Zaxton did not return to rest.
Instead, he stood above the ruins of the fallen empire and issued a single decree:
> "Let the Fourth Realm remember what happens to those who harm my house."
He returned to Dawnward Bastion, ringed with two blue rings and one crimson one—a never-before-seen planetary configuration.
Many believed the Mourning Ring could devour even stars if fully unleashed.
Zaxton began to rebuild.
But all across the Fourth Realm—and even deep into the Third—they began whispering a new name for him.
No longer just Realm Master.
No longer simply Zaxton of the Don Empire.
But:
> The Crimson Orbit.
The One Who Brought Gas Giants to Their Knees.
The Living Cataclysm.
> There is no justice in Zaxton.
Only Judgment.