The quiet world they'd landed on was still nameless.
It hung in the shadow of a dying red supergiant—a fractured ember sun that never set.
Day and night blurred into an eternal twilight, and the ground beneath them pulsed faintly with warmth, like the heartbeat of something long asleep. The wind here was slow, thick, reverent. As if even the planet feared breaking the silence.
The portal behind them had long since sealed.
Scorched, bloodied, and drained—but alive—the brothers sat among fields of crystalline reeds that shimmered with every word spoken. Each tone made the reeds hum softly, creating faint ripples of light that glided across the horizon.
Nearby, Kaelen, Veynar, and the Aelyndari healer rested—each battered, wrapped in shimmering bandages that emitted faint green light. Veynar leaned against a rock formation of molten glass, his massive shield resting at his side. Kaelen sat cross-legged, breathing heavily, his armor cracked and blackened. The healer moved quietly among them, her golden aura pulsing as she whispered ancient hymns of restoration.
Luto sat a few feet away, chewing a stick of spiced root from his pack while flicking through a half-melted data-slate, scanning cosmic coordinates.
Onyx, bandaged and silent, rested with his eyes closed, cross-legged in the dirt—feeling for the faint hum of the world beneath him.
Ryu lay flat on his back, one arm across his chest, his dreadlocks untied and sprawled across the earth like a crown of stardust.
Then—
He groaned.
Rolled to his side.
And blinked.
"You know, Onyx…" His voice rasped through cracked lips, barely above a whisper. "Didn't look like you thought we'd come…"
He smirked faintly.
"…you big idiot."
Then he passed out cold, arms flopping over his face like a child who'd played too hard.
Onyx's shoulders trembled. For a second, Luto thought he was laughing.
But no.
He was crying.
"You always were the loudest of us," Onyx murmured, brushing dirt from Ryu's bandana. "And the dumbest. But also the heart."
He looked up at the violet sky.
"I waited."
Luto, still chewing, avoided the emotion that tightened his chest.
"…Touching."
He held out a strip of dried plasma fruit. "Snack?"
Onyx blinked—then accepted.
They sat in silence for a while, the brothers finally whole. The peace felt stolen, fragile, but real.
⸻
The Edge of Existence
Luto's data-slate flickered to life, scattering blue holographic light across their faces. "We're on an uninhabited dwarf planet," he muttered, "at the extreme perimeter of the Auralis Expanse—the most populated dimension in the multiverse. Billions of worlds, countless systems, and almost no divine interference. Every race, every order, every creed—coexisting, if only out of necessity."
Onyx raised an eyebrow. "So we landed in neutral territory."
"More like the edge of the frontier," Luto said. "No god dares interfere here. Not because they can't—because they remember what happened last time they tried."
The name lingered in the air.
Auralis.
The dimension of unspoken truces. The melting pot of every surviving civilization not aligned with the divine.
Ryu, half-awake, mumbled something incoherent. "…sounds like home."
And the brothers sat beneath the endless red twilight, surrounded by life that had never seen gods—and hopefully, never would.
⸻
The Ledger That Watches
But peace doesn't go unnoticed.
Far away—in a hidden fold of the multiverse—
a shadow leaned against a pillar carved from information itself.
The battlefield replayed in the air before him: the Maelstrom's birth, the collapse of the Riven Dimension, and the moment the brothers vanished through white light.
The figure smiled, faint and sharp.
"Well now…" His voice was smooth as ink. "Those boys are going to make me a fortune."
He stepped forward, cloak shimmering with living script. Each thread bore headlines that rewrote themselves in real time, displaying whispers and truths gathered from across existence.
Behind him floated a name, drawn in silver flame:
"The Black Quill."
His true name—
Korr.
He entered a cathedral-sized chamber of glass and smoke.
Rows upon rows of identical men filled the space—thousands of himself, each seated before hovering terminals, their faces lit by the blue glow of a billion secrets. Every clone bore a number carved into their foreheads—a mockery of individuality.
Their voices hummed like an endless tide.
Data streams. Spinning text. Infinite stories.
They were the Echo Ledger—a cartel older than divine law itself.
Not gods. Not mortals.
A civilization of knowledge brokers who sold truth like treasure.
Their creed was carved into the walls in burning script:
"Truth belongs to the highest bidder.
Or to no one at all."
Korr smiled as the latest story flashed across every terminal.
✦ BREAKING: THE THREE BROTHERS OF TERROSIA DEFEAT DIVINE SENTIENTS AND SURVIVE THE RIVEN COLLAPSE. GODS ISSUE BOUNTIES. ✦
Then—
A ripple in the air.
The faint shimmer of reality bending like glass.
Out of the distortion stepped a tall woman cloaked in matte black fabric that drank in light rather than reflected it. Her eyes, pale and sharp as starlight, moved with impossible precision—every step deliberate, silent.
"Mr. Quill," she said, her voice calm and void of emotion. "The last transmissions from the Riven Dimension are confirmed. Collapse complete. Estimated casualties: forty-one systems. Estimated data integrity: thirty-four percent retained. I have traced an energy thread matching the resonance signatures of the brothers."
Korr's grin widened. "And you appeared out of thin air again."
Her expression didn't shift. "That is my specialty."
"I know," he said with a chuckle, walking beside her. "You make even shadows feel insecure."
She tilted her head slightly. "Permission to deploy and verify survival, Mr. Quill?"
Korr stopped. Turned toward her.
"How many times," he said, voice lighter now, "do I have to tell you—when we're in the base, you can call me Korr."
For the first time, her lips parted—somewhere between a sigh and the faintest ghost of a smile. "Apologies… Korr."
"Better."
Her tone returned to its flat calm. "Shall I continue the report?"
"Please do."
"The brothers survived the divine assault and escaped through an unstable rift generated by Luto. Their trajectory placed them near the Auralis Expanse. I can follow the trace—discreetly—if you'd like confirmation."
Korr waved his hand dismissively, the headlines shifting around them like floating mirrors. "No need. Those boys made me a fortune today. Let them rest. Heroes don't sell well if you burn them too quickly."
"As you wish."
He glanced at her sidelong. "You know, you're still the best ghost I ever found. Remind me—what was the name of that dead planet you came from?"
Her eyes flickered once. "Vharyn. We served a god once. We spied for him. Too well."
Korr's grin softened into something almost kind. "And now you serve the truth. A far more entertaining god."
She said nothing, only gave a curt nod as they walked past the lines of identical Korrs—all murmuring, typing, recording.
The data rippled around them, rewriting history in real time.
Korr clasped his hands behind his back, glancing up at the glowing script of the Echo Ledger's creed one more time.
"Truth belongs to the highest bidder."
He smiled again.
"But from now on let's make sure everyone can afford a little piece of it."
⸻
The Multiverse Reacts
Rebellion worlds exploded in celebration.
Statues of the brothers rose overnight. Children tied red bandanas around their heads, pretending to wield cosmic fire and lightning. Scrap merchants crafted hex-gauntlets from broken parts, selling them as "Sage Relics."
On divine territories, their names were erased. Temples held sermons branding them heretics, "children of the fallen Creator."
The gods answered not with silence—
but with fear.
Bounties spread across the starpaths, written in divine cipher.
⸻
RYU — The Crownless Flame
Bounty: 800 Million Solvyn
Power class: Unknown. Behavior erratic. Engage with caution.
LUTO — The Architect of Folded Time Bounty: 700 Million Solvyn
Dimensional disruptor. Strategic liability. Capable of destabilizing divine matrices.
ONYX — The Reforged Blade
Bounty: 850 Million Solvyn
Former divine weapon. Mind fractured. Potential to destabilize cosmic law.
⸻
And they weren't alone.
IGNOVAR — The Fire Sovereign of Cinderrath
1 Billion Solvyn
VEYNAR — Shield of the Fyr Domain
350 Million Solvyn
KAELEN DRAKEMIRE — The Ash-Twinned Blades
600 Million Solvyn
ORVESS EMBERVEIL — The Flame-Tongued Mystic
200 Million Solvyn
SERAVYNN PYRELASH — Commander of Fyr's Wrath
580 Million Solvyn
PYRRHAGON — The Infernal Wyrm
625 Million Solvyn
⸻
The universe buzzed with a single question:
"Who are these brothers?"
And more quietly—
"Where will they strike next?"
⸻
The Dawn After the Storm
Days later, under the crimson twilight, Ryu stirred.
He groaned, sat up slowly, bandages tight across his chest.
"Did we win?" he asked groggily.
"No," Luto said flatly, eyes still glued to the data-slate. "We escaped. But we fought some of the strongest beings in existence and lived. That's progress."
Onyx chuckled, low and dry. "You also made half the galaxy lose their minds."
Luto passed Ryu the slate.
His bounty glowed across the screen.
Ryu's eyes widened. "EIGHT HUNDRED MILLION?!"
He staggered to his feet and struck a ridiculous pose. "Wait—do I get a nickname at least?"
"You do," Luto muttered. "They're calling you the Crownless Flame."
"Oh my stars," Ryu said with mock awe. "That is hot. Literally."
Onyx smirked. "They call me the Reforged Blade. Not bad."
Luto crossed his arms. "I'm just 'Architect of Folded Time.'"
Ryu grinned. "So basically—nerd of the apocalypse."
Luto threw a pebble at him.
Then Ryu scrolled through the others.
Ignovar. Seravynn. Kaelen. Veynar.
His smile faded.
"…Where are Kaelen and Veynar?"
Luto sighed. "We made a choice. You and Onyx were down. The gods' scanners might've been searching for our signatures. This planet's off the grid, but staying together increases detection risk. So I asked them to scatter, for now."
Ryu frowned. "And the healer?"
Luto nodded toward the quiet woman by the reeds.
She sat with poise, repairing a cosmic-threaded needle. Her eyes were sharp but calm, her skin faintly glowing with golden script—a living medic seal.
"She chose to stay," Luto said. "Her name's Saelara Nive. Former battlefield cleric from the Quiet Wars. Aelyndari. Lost her battalion in a divine extraction gone wrong. Since then, she's wandered—healing whoever the gods forget."
"She doesn't talk much," Onyx added, "but she sees more than most."
Luto studied her. "A high-level Aelyndari, maybe Verdant Sage… possibly even one of the Sylthari, if not—"
"Luto," Onyx interrupted. "You're prying again."
Ryu waved toward her. She didn't wave back.
"She's gonna love me," he whispered.
"No," Luto said. "She won't."
⸻
Fire, Food, and Unspoken Promises
As dusk deepened, the air filled with the smell of cooked spice and ozone.
For the first time in years, Luto cooked for his brothers.
A stew of celestial root, melted stormflower sap, and something that vaguely resembled meat. Ryu poked at it with a stick.
"It's moving," he said.
"It's reacting," Luto corrected. "It's alive in a molecular sense."
"Then it's fighting back!"
Onyx smirked. "Like old times."
Saelara sat nearby, eating quietly, eyes on the horizon. She didn't laugh—but she listened. And the faintest smile ghosted across her lips when Ryu and Luto started arguing over who had the better seasoning ratio.
For the first time in what felt like centuries, the brothers weren't warriors.
They were simply… home.
Battered. Hunted. Infamous.
But together.
They spoke softly of what came next—of rebuilding, of the gods' fear, of how they could use it.
And then, beneath the red sun's endless twilight, they made a decision.
To stop running.
If the gods wanted a war…
Then the brothers of Terrosia would choose the battlefield themselves.