The divine court no longer existed — just a crater in the fabric of reality, scorched by black flame and stained with godblood. EL stood at its center, back turned to the ruin, black cloak flowing like a tear in space itself.
He had spoken the final words.
He had passed judgment.
And now, he walked away.
But destiny, like mortals, often bites when forgotten.
It began with a whisper.
Aether, God of Time, broken and limping, approached behind him. So did Anubis, dragging his scythe, blood soaking his jackal-shaped helm. Lilith followed last, silent, expression unreadable.
They had fought with EL.
They had stood by him when the others rebelled.
And they would be the ones to betray him.
"Forgive us," Aether murmured.
Then came the strike.
Aether drove a blade made of chronos-steel into EL's back — forged from the collapsed moments of dying stars. Lilith lunged, embedding a core of divine formation into EL's chest. Anubis struck last, carving ancient sigils into EL's flesh with his cursed scythe.
The formation activated.
Runes crawled across EL's body like molten vines.
And from the sky…
They came.
Trillions of translucent, screaming souls—the forgotten, the nameless, the enslaved—rained down like burning snowflakes. Children, mothers, warriors, beggars. Mortals from a thousand worlds. Souls EL once failed to protect.
They descended into him.
Not with mercy.
But with accusation.
"You were the Kindest God…"
"But where were you when we burned?"
"You were too arrogant. Too powerful. Too distant."
"You call yourself balance—but your silence killed more than any sword."
Their wails pierced his bones. The souls wrapped around his essence and began to devour him from within—not his body, but his sanity.
And then they cursed him.
"From now on, you will carry our pain."
"Every time a mortal dies… you will feel their last breath."
"Every grief will be your grief."
"Every lost love, every murdered child, every enslaved mind — it will live inside your heart, forever."
They fused with the core.
And EL fell to one knee.
The God of Balance… could feel.
Truly feel.
A thousand lives flashed through his mind.
A child crushed beneath rubble in a war between angels.
A woman who starved praying to a god who never answered.
A man who begged to die after watching his family burn.
EL screamed.
But no sound came out.
He could feel everything—the terror, the confusion, the unbearable loneliness of mortals betrayed by their creators.
And slowly… something broke.
Not his body.
His indifference.
His eyes, once black flame, now shimmered with silver tears.
He looked at the ground, trembling, and whispered.
"I should have saved them."
His voice was different now.
It carried not power — but sorrow.
And then… he began to sing a poem.
What is power, if not the curse to watch?
To stand above, while all beneath you rot.
What is divinity, if not silence dressed in gold?
While children die in prayers never told.
I was balance, I was flame, I was light and night,
But never once did I see their silent fight.
They wept, and I watched.
They screamed, and I reasoned.
They died, and I remained… seasoned.
But now I hear them — their voices like knives,
Whispering truths through their fractured lives.
To lose a child is to tear one's soul in two.
To lose a lover… is to forget who you once knew.
And I… I feel it all now.
The love they gave.
The pain they owned.
The graves they made.
The hope they loaned.
And for the first time since time was born...
I weep not as a god.
But as one who mourns.
His voice faded into the ruined sky.
For a moment… all existence paused.
Even the stars bowed their heads.
But not the gods.
And not the demons.
They had watched it all — EL's fall, his song, his sorrow — and they felt nothing.
Zeus, his broken spirit watching from the void, scoffed.
Satan, torn and battered, spat crimson and growled.
"Mortals are nothing but insects who worship us when they're desperate."
"Let them die."
"Let them suffer."
One by one, the remaining divine and demonic beings turned their backs on EL's sorrow.
They did not see mortals.
Only tools.
Slaves.
A fuel source.
And now, with EL bound by empathy — by the curse of mortal pain — they had no more reason to fear his wrath.
They would rebuild.
They would use mortals like cattle, cloaked in divine law.
For gods and demons could not enter the human realm directly — but mortals could worship them. Fight for them. Kill for them.
They would make the mortals kneel again.
This time, not to EL.
But to them.
And behind them all… in silence… EL remained kneeling.
Tears in his eyes.
A curse in his heart.
And a thousand voices screaming inside his soul.
The ruins of the divine court still smoked under shattered stars.
Satan emerged from the shadows, golden blood still dripping from his wounds, his wings torn and face scorched — yet his pride unshaken.
He stared at EL, who knelt in silence, still bearing the curse of a trillion mortal souls.
"You disappoint me, EL."
EL said nothing.
"Why are you mourning them?" Satan scoffed. "Humans? They lie. They kill. They betray each other for coins, for pride, for entertainment. They start wars to feel powerful. They wear smiles like masks and feed on weakness."
He stepped closer, his voice sharp.
"You grieve for demons in human skin."
EL slowly stood.
Eyes dim with sorrow, yet steady with resolve.
"You're not wrong," he said, voice soft. "Humans are selfish. Flawed. Fragile. They hurt each other more than any devil ever could."
A pause.
Then he looked up — and something burned behind his grief.
"But they can change."
Satan narrowed his eyes. "Change? They've had eons."
"So have we," EL replied coldly. "And yet here you are — repeating the same cruelty, over and over."
"You think I'm weak because I care. But even if all of you gods, demons, angels, monsters — even if the entire multiverse turns against me again…"
His voice grew firmer — fire creeping into it.
"I could still kill you all."
Satan clenched his jaw.
"But this time," EL continued, "I won't raise my hand to destroy."
"I will raise it… to compensate."
He turned away, black cloak brushing the bloodstained floor.
"For their pain. For their voices. For the forgotten."
"You'll see it, Satan. The day when humanity rises — not through power, but through purpose."
"You call them demons in human skin…"
He glanced back.
"But I call them hope wrapped in failure."
And with that, EL vanished — his path now clear.
Not as a destroyer.
But as a redeemer.