Days bled into nights, and nights into days. After the great war—the clash that shook eternity itself—the gods stood triumphant, while the Titans' roars faded into silence, swallowed by the abyss of defeat.
And now the world itself lay fractured, its core trembling beneath the weight of scars left by the great war. And now The world will enter, Through the process called —World Restart— Layering the world for Starting new one.
Layer upon layer, reality peeled back like pages of an ancient tome. A great weave of light and shadow rewrote the broken order, stitching new lands atop the ashes of the old.
In the dark void stars glittered infinitely, through space... A ginormous planet emerge so massive like it doesn't look a sphere at all, only the edges of its horizon stretches widely curve. Fantastically glowing blue by the sun's reflection.
At the center shape a human shadow, resting, chilling. As his Playful Voice echoing across the streching space. The figure was holding a Black sickle pilling an apple.
The figure hummed a tune, low at first, then rising into a crooked melody that tangled with the silence of space.
"One world ends, another begins… peel away the old, taste the skin…"
His voice echoed, drifting across the horizon like a lullaby for a dying cosmos. The black sickle sliced another curl of apple skin, which floated gently upward.
The figure chuckled, biting into the fruit with a crisp snap. "Sweet," he whispered, gazing at the massive blue planet in front of him
"This one will do nicely."
Through every bite, his face slowly revealed itself in the glow of the starlight—it was Joseph. His expression was calm, even cheerful, savoring the sweet, crisp flesh of the apple.
He cleared his throat dramatically, then grinned and added.
"Hey, bro! Maybe you should take a break… just for a minute."
At the corner of the void, the God loomed—his massive body stretching across the horizon, shadowing the planet. With hands pulsing with incredible power, he bent space itself, shaping stone, sea, and new landscape.
Joseph tilted his head, chewing. Then added while mouth completely full
"You've been at that for days nonstop. C'mon, man, even gods need a coffee break."
For the next second The God respond, his voice rumbled without even looking. He seems serious
"Gods do not tire, Joseph. And coffee is for the lazy."
Joseph froze mid-sip, the dark liquid trembling inside the cup as it floated in the weightless void, droplets breaking free and glimmering like stars. He blinked, half serious half mockingly amused as swallowed slowly,
In a breathless instant, the God's voice echoed across the void — deep, steady, yet disturbingly casual.
"How about you help me, instead of drifting there, useless? Head north and finish the new layer."
Hearing this made his mood hopeless, his lips twisting in faint annoyance. Arms crossed tight against his chest, he exhaled through his nose, bored and unwilling.
"Tch... fine, I'll do it. But first, thirty minutes. I've earned that much. You have no idea what it took to bring down those Titans."
The God's voice rumbled back, cutting through Joseph's laziness like an iron command.
"Ten minutes. Then you start working."
Joseph let out a long, defeated sigh, His lips curved into the faintest smirk, his head tilted towards the endless darkness where dozen of stars glowing it's wonder.
A brief silence settled between them—soft, but heavy. It didn't last long. A question began to stir in his mind, itching at his peace, refusing to stay buried. He hesitated, unsure if he should speak… but in the end, he couldn't hold it back.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and dry.
"Tell me... Why didn't you do it?"
The God's presence stirred, heavy as shifting mountains.
"Do what?"
Joseph's pull his body arms tightened across his chest, his tone sharpening.
"Nothing. You just sat back while the Titans ran loose. You could've stopped them before they ever moved... Or just predicted their invasion... I've been wondering."
The vastness trembled. The God's presence shifted, dimming, threads of his form unraveling into the void.
"Do you think I did nothing?" the voice asked, softer now, yet heavy as a mountain's weight.
Joseph's eyes narrowed.
"Didn't look like much to me... If you ever do something at the first place this wouldn't happen!"
The God's voice rumbled, slow yet cutting through the void.
"Joseph, I know you're point, but remember… I that because us creators are bound by rules—"
His words broke as Joseph snapped back, voice bristling with anger.
"Rules? That's always your excuse ever since three years until... what rules? To let people die with their prayers unanswered… while creatures suffer, clawing for their lives… and we just sit here, like what? Spectators? All because of those stupid rules?"
The God tilted his head toward Joseph, his unfinished work breaking off. When he spoke, his voice was calm yet carried the weight of thunder.
"Joseph, you don't understand."
The god's presence pressed down like a storm, his voice echoing through the void, vast and unyielding.
"The world is bound by limits. There are truths you are not yet ready to bear. For now… your question must remain unanswered..."
Joseph stepped forward, his gaze sharp with restrained fury. The god's words still trembled across the emptiness when something shifted—something that pulled Joseph's attention away from his rage.
Lowering his eyes, he saw the god's vast body of constellations… slowly dimming, and some stars fading into the abyss.
"Bro?.. what's happening to your body?!"
Joseph's voice cracked through the void, lowered yet sharp, echoing with confusion. For a heartbeat, space itself seemed to hush—planets, stars, and drifting shards of light frozen in their silent orbit, listening.
His anger melted into something else, something he hadn't expected. As staring at the god's fading constellation form.
"Are you okay?"
Joseph's voice echoed again, softer this time, the tone heavy with an unspoken worry.
For the first time, it wasn't the god who seemed untouchable—it was Joseph who felt the weight of fragility, as he waited for an answer.
For a long, fragile silence, the god did not answer. Only the faint shimmer of his constellations pulsing weakly in the dark, like a heartbeat losing its rhythm.
At the next moment At last, his voice came—calm, slow… yet hollow, as if spoken from the edge of an abyss.
"Joseph… soon, I will no longer be here to watch this world."
His words made the void shake into silence.
His presence, once vast and unshakable, seemed to shrink with each echo, until his voice was but a whisper drowning in the infinite void.
"I'm… fading."
For a fleeting moment, Joseph's lips curved into a grin, a soft chuckle breaking the heavy silence.
"What are you talking about? You're a god… You? Dying?" his tone teetering between forcedb amusement and disbelief. "Enough with your jokes."
But even as the words left his mouth, the sound of his own laughter felt hollow, swallowed by the vast emptiness around them. and his eyes betrayed what his voice refused to admit—fear.
The god's voice poured through the void, calm yet heavy.
"Joseph... I'm not going to die. But soon becoming part of the void. Joseph... you already know, why seasons turn without end. We gods are no different."
'we?..'
As his words echoed, the emptiness stirred—constellations bending, stars aligning—until visions bloomed in the cosmos.
Joseph's eyes widened.
Across the void, he saw them— other gods, each etched in shimmering fragments of memory. First he saw. One draped in firing outline, shaping mountains and volcanoes with a sweep of his cosmic hand. Another with hair flowing like endless tides of galaxy and Stars as she cradled newborn islands and controls gravity, then a god of cosmic storm, laughing as he spun thunder into being and bend planets into realms, and a ginormous god wielding planets above his palm, scattering entire forests from her fingertips like drifting petals into life.
They were grand, beautiful, terrifying—all radiant in their own fashion of creation with their own world with its own law physics.
Joseph amazed from what he witnessed he could almost feel their power, their presence still woven into the bones of the world.
However Joseph face begin to shambles as just as quickly as they appeared, they slowly began to crumbled.
Each god—each creator—faded, one by one.
Their brilliance scattered like ash in the wind,
drifting into the endless void, leaving their creations behind left to tremble beneath the weight of a world now ruled by silence.
The world moves by an unseen rhythm—a forbidden cycle forged at the dawn of existence.
It is a law older than the gods themselves, and not even they may defy it.
When the creators fade, their works do not perish nor fall into meaninglessness.
No… each creation becomes a fragment of wisdom, a wonder that carries the memory of its maker.
In this way, the cycle is preserved—
for even in the silence left by fallen gods, their creations continue to whisper truth into the world...
***
The god's words lowered into something soft, almost mournful.
"I was never meant to last forever. None of us were. Where one light fades, another will rise. That is the truth, the law that even gods cannot escape. i been in this void for about nine hundred million years Joseph… but this fate written for all things. Even us."
The visions shattered into stardust, leaving only Joseph, and god… and the crushing silence of eternity.
It took several seconds after Joseph finally whispered, his voice was soft
"Then... what about me?"
The god's glowing eyes quivered, his vast voice lost to stillness. Not despair, —only silence, because there were no words he could give.
Joseph waited… but nothing came.
And not for long he finally turned away, not sparing a final glance. His steps were steady, deliberate, carrying him forward into the broken world of the North.
"I'll... going to fix the north now... Let's repair this world quickly." His words almost like whisper drowned in a suffocating weight.
Yet beneath that hardened stride, guilt pressed on his chest like stone, and sorrow gnawed quietly at the edges of his resolve.
And the world completely devoured by silence.