Grace's body was trembling as the explosion tore through the space.
A sunless, holy detonation. Blinding white and gold swallowed everything.
Her breath caught in her throat; the pressure in the air was enough to split bone.
Her head was splitting open from the inside.
Every nerve ached tremendously. Every neuron burned. The world around her fractured reality itself splintering into shards of light, sound, and thought. The sky folded over itself, the sands stretched into glass, and even time began to bleed.
She fell to her knees, clutching her skull.
Something in her clicked. A threshold crossed. The blood dripping down her face began to float upward — suspended midair, caught in the web of stopped time.
She slowed time so violently that everything around her — wind, dust, heat, gravity — came to a crawl.
Grace exhaled shakily, her pupils dilating until they filled her eyes completely. Reflecting the shattered cosmos around her. The structure of reality looked like frozen lightning, extending across the infinite and she could see them not metaphorically, but literally.
The cracks were not just in space. They were through atoms, through existence itself.
Grace reached forward.
At first, her hand shaked violently. Her body wasn't made for this. The moment her fingertips brushed a floating piece of fractured light, her nerves convulsed, vision flickering in and out.
Still, she kept going.
Her mind stretched. Her consciousness split into millions of fragments, one for every particle, every molecule, every atom she could perceive. She saw them all in slow motion, suspended mid-collapse, breaking apart from the blast Elior had unleashed.
Her voice was faint, blood trailing down her lips.
"Come on.… hold together.… just hold—"
She began placing them back.
Atoms those scattered, unstable, she guided it back into position of its own.
Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen and the dust of the world itself.
It was like rebuilding a cathedral with broken glass while time itself begged her to stop. Every movement tore another second off her lifespan. All corrected atom formed in her skull, echoing like static against bone.
She reminded everything that she read in her quantum physics book.
The cracks began to mend, the light-streaked fractures shrunk, vanishing one by one. The skies stopped cracking. The sound returned. Whisper of sand slid against glass.
Grace's breathing slowed. Her body was shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes bled, pupils flickering between color and void.
Still, she smiled weakly. " None breaking me today.…"
The explosion's residue faded, replaced by a deep, eerie calm. The air tasted like ash and ozone.
As the last fragment of reality clicked back into place, the sound it made was soft.
A quiet, single note like a heartbeat starting again.
Grace collapsed, falling forward into the sand, still smiling faintly.
Reality.… Moved again.
As the reality became normal, the darkness Infront of Sun faded slowly.
Slowly....
It seemed like they were watching the sun after aeons. The sunlight touched the desert, as everyone there, including Rosario but except Vera and Radahn began to fall apart in the joy of their victory, they have won....
All the Homans who were dead, now came back to life, healthy, stable as they were.
....
Elior Jones, he used his ability "Hybrid Bomb" to blow the Overseer up. Not killing it, just making it bow enough to return.
He had to get blessings from the God, the fortune of the Lea Infra, plus it had made him awaken his Transparent Realm, the time, Elior had two wings. Top of that, he sacrificed all his blood to the system once again....
All this just to boost his Hybrid Bomb.
The thing which gave them certainty to win over was the "Lea Infra", a Uptie 4 artifact.
However, The Sun Presence wasn't dead or something, it was just harmed enough to make it return.
On the other hand, Azmaik now was in place of Tom. Everyone was thinking the person all the way along with them wasn't Tom but Azmaik. The Ritual they vowed to had a condition. It will erase everyone's mind sight, making them believe, Tom was Azmaik. While Tom bears the curses of others.
All the Homans and Hunters in Durkan gathered up. They eventually began to curse Tom Greyrat. The one, for whom, they were suffering all the night along.
They weren't aware that Tom's sacrifice saved them. If Tom hadn't decided to sacrifice his identity, the Overseer could have immediately took over Azmaik's body and descend on land. Because of the confusion Tom created through the identity swap it couldn't find its vessel location. It couldn't seek any body it wanted, it needs a specific one, which was Azmaik, his birth was meant to be its Vessel, he was cursed. Tom freed him.
Azmaik was now living with Vera, Grave, Rosario and others, the life Tom granted him.
....
Their footsteps tapped through the marble hallway. Two shadows stretched long across the dim corridor of the Ramsis Senate building. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, flickering as though wary of what was being discussed beneath them.
Liam Shaw walked with steady, almost ceremonial calm. His dark navy suit fit him with precision; every step was measured, every blink calculated.
Beside him strode, Margaret Capibara. Her silver hair tied neatly behind, holding a file pressed against her chest. Their voices stayed low, but the weight of their words clung to the air.
"Have you heard?" Margaret began quietly. "The Lord Emperor, Moses Tur…. finally transcended through. Ascended to Uptie 4(2) last week."
Liam nodded slightly, not surprised. "It was predictable. He's been gathering energy from the Outer Rings since the last Eclipse. I assume the Council of Cosmos allowed it?"
"They didn't just allow it," she replied. "They celebrated it. The Empire hasn't had a true Emperor-level Servant since the Second Cycle of Collection."
Liam's eyes narrowed a little. "Titles," he said softly. "They have dressed power in hierarchy to make it digestible. 'Uptie this,' 'Regent that' but it's all the same obsession. Power stacked on suffering."
Margaret's steps slowed. "Still, it defines survival here. The Hierarchy of Ranking is what you can't deny its structure. From Hunters to Saints, from Regents or Gods to Servant and then the Artorias themselves. It's how this world measures its worth."
Liam smirked faintly. "Worth? Or control?"
Margaret looked at him. "Talking like a dissident again, Lord Liam?"
"I talk like someone who's seen what the system hides. It gives me private courtesy." His voice remained calm, precise. "Do you remember the first? The Artorias, the one who spawned in this world aeons ago before the Codex of this fake reality was even written?"
Margaret nodded cautiously. "Of course, he one who built the Abyssal Barrier. The wall that keeps the Overseers away from descending."
"Yes." Liam's tone deepened, almost reverent. "He wasn't any god. He was a mathematician. I hate it that subject." She sighed and then looked forward again. " He understood the world as formula. Faith as energy, will as reaction. He made the barrier not as a prison for the Overseers…. but as a balance."
Margaret hesitated. "The countless Overseers are above there. Just waiting for a chance. One of the most recent descend was 'The Sun Presence' in Durkan. It's second attempt and failure to land."
"Of course it is." His eyes gleamed faintly beneath the dim light. "Every solid substance were meant to break eventually. Especially when fools start offering miracles to the sky."
At that, Margaret's face hardened. "You mean the cults?"
Liam nodded slowly. " Especially, Acurus Tiama. They've been active again. Spreading their 'blessings,' performing divine rituals, opening fractures in the barrier. It's not faith they spread. It's an infection in form of medicine. Each 'miracle' they share weakens the equilibrium Artorias built. They worship the Overseers as gods when they're nothing but architects of collapse."
She spoke softly. "So.… the people love them. Hope sells faster than truth."
Liam gave a faint smile. One that didn't reach his eyes. "That's because truth doesn't perform miracles. Truth are what makes miracles look fake."
They reached a junction where two hallways diverged. Liam stopped, looking ahead as rain began to fall beyond the high glass windows. The storm outside mirrored the faint glow of city towers.
"Do you ever wonder," he said quietly, "why every ascension ends the same? Why each Artorias vanishes when they are almost near to cross the last wall?"
Margaret frowned. "I think they ascended somewhere else."
Liam said nothing. His eyes, calm and analytical, lingered on the rain.
Finally, Margaret asked, "What if the barrier breaks fully?"
He turned his deliberate gaze to her. "Then we see what stands on the other side of the cosmos."
A flash of lightning illuminated his face—cold, unreadable, calculating.
The thunder followed, distant yet heavy.
Margaret's grip tightened on her file. "Liam, what are you planning?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he walked ahead, his shoes echoing softly through the corridor, his tone remained gentle,
"Planning implies uncertainty, Margaret. I'm simply.… preparing for what's inevitable."
Liam and Margaret turned another corner in the dim corridor. The storm outside had deepened. The rain lashed against the tall windows like ghostly fingers, thunder rumbling over the capital of Ramsis.
The corridor lights flickered again, briefly painting Liam's calm face in pale illumination before sinking it back into shadow.
Margaret said, "You mentioned earlier the miracles and their origin. You think it's linked to the Runes of Cosmos, don't you?"
Liam smiled faintly, the kind that could mean amusement or warning. "I don't think, Margaret. I know."
She slowed her pace, her brow furrowing. "That is dangerous talk. The Runes of Cosmos are forbidden even in the archives. The scholars who studied them, every one of them went mad or disappeared."
Liam stopped by a tall glass window overlooking the neon-lined sprawl of the Ramsis Empire's capital. He placed one hand against the cool surface, watching the reflection of his dark navy suit blur in the rain-streaked glass. "Madness," he murmured. "That's what the weak call clarity when it doesn't suit them."
Margaret's tone tightened. "You found one, didn't you?"
He turned slightly. "Not found," he said softly. "I earned it. The Sun Presence guards the Bizarro Solace of Light—the concept of visibility, growth, empathy, colour, and leadership. The same essence that governs creation's rhythm. That's why it was deceived and later worshipped"
He began walking again, hands clasped behind his back. "Those Runes are not divine relics. They are conceptual engines. Pillars of reality built on pure idea. Whoever commands one doesn't just bend the certain authority; they dictate perception itself. To control minds is to control what is unseen, and to control what is unseen is to control truth."
Margaret swallowed, uneasy. "…. You have its counterpart?"
Liam chuckled under his breath. "Not yet. But I've acquired its resonance. Its reflection through the Vnufera."
She blinked. "The fragments of narrative will.…?"
"Exactly," he said, his voice low and precise. "The Vnufera are the leftover frequencies of dead gods, angels or any higher being. You collect enough of them and they sing. When they harmonize, they grant you conceptual authority over an Oblivion."
Margaret's pulse quickened. "But you're not at the third tier, Liam. You shouldn't be able to wield a Oblivion without ascending."
"That's the beauty of it." He smiled darkly. "I bypassed ascension. I didn't need Heaven's permission; I took its key. Now, even the Saints will flinch when I walk."
Margaret stepped closer, her voice trembled slightly. "You've taken power from the same source that devoured worlds, Liam. The Sun Presence was never meant to be emulated. Its Vnufera which corrupts empathy into domination. It makes you believe leading is loving at any cost."
He glanced back, eyes calm but gleaming. "So, tell me, Dear Margaret, what's wrong with that? Empathy and control are two sides of the same lens. I merely adjusted the focus."
Lightning flashed again, carving his reflection into the window like a silver wound.
Margaret's throat tightened. "You sound like them. Like Acurus Tiama."
Liam's voice grew soft, cold. "No. They kneel before the Overseer's chaos. I…. intend to replace it."
The storm roared, drowning the last of his words. He turned from the glass, walking deeper into shadow.
Margaret didn't follow. She stood still, watching him vanish down the hall as if swallowed by darkness.
When the thunder finally rolled away, his voice lingered with a cruel tone,
"The Sun Presence wanted to give light to the world. I will show how easily light can burn to that dump overseer."