After the echoes of battle faded, silence swallowed everything whole.
The breath of a world that once burned with chaotic energy had now fallen still —
like the last heartbeat of a dying god.
The black blood of the Spider of Chaos seeped into the cracked ground,
its glow dimming beneath the weight of emptiness.
The scent of iron and scorched power merged together —
the smell of an ending that refused to fade.
Lensin stood in the middle of that silence.
The Sword of Darkness, still faintly radiating white-gray light, slowly dissolved into his personal dimension.
The metallic whisper of its departure lingered in the void,
a sound like a funeral bell for a slain world.
His eyes showed nothing — no relief, no sorrow.
Only calm.
The kind of calm that felt more terrifying than rage itself.
Then a voice broke through the stillness.
"Wow. You really are strong, huh?"
It was an excited, cheerful tone —
one that did not belong in a graveyard like this.
"You took down that spider so easily.
If it were me, I might've needed, what, two or three minutes?"
Lensin turned.
Standing a short distance away, shrouded in the drifting fog of the broken dimension,
was Sentrie — white-haired, wearing a golden-white cloak,
his expression carrying that effortless smile of his.
A smile not of mockery, not of admiration, but of pure, amused curiosity.
Lensin returned a faint smile.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "But… let's talk."
His eyes shifted toward the third figure among them —
The Creator.
The being stood there, holding a black umbrella,
wearing a blue kimono that rippled even though no wind blew.
There was no face beneath the shadow of the umbrella,
no eyes, no mouth — only the sense of something immense looking back.
Around him, the air shimmered as though time itself dared not move.
Lensin spoke again, voice calm but edged with purpose.
"I want to know… why are you looking for us?"
The question pierced the quiet like a blade.
Sentrie's golden eyes lit up with interest; he nodded approvingly.
He, too, wanted answers.
But The Creator did not speak.
He stood still, gazing at the two of them — if "gazing" was even the right word.
There was no change in posture, no visible expression.
Just a faint curve on the unseen lips beneath that shadowed void.
A smile that could mean anything.
Lensin waited. Then he continued.
"If you really came to help us, then tell me — why?
To help the King of Monsters who's been forgotten by time?"
Sentrie chuckled softly.
"Or maybe because you were once called the God of Hope?
Though, to be honest, that title never really did much for your kind, did it?"
His smile widened, half-mocking, half-sincere.
"Or is it because of our power? That can't be it either.
With a snap of your fingers, you could make beings far stronger than us."
When his words ended, the silence deepened again.
The ground below them shifted —
the fractured stone groaning as if alive,
the light of the dying realm flickering like the pulse of something on the verge of death.
The Creator remained still.
Though featureless, his presence conveyed something close to amusement.
His faceless head tilted slightly,
as if admiring the two before him like one might admire a completed work of art.
Then — a faint smile. Subtle. Disturbing.
Sentrie frowned. "Are you… laughing?"
No response.
Only the sound of air moving — not wind, but the whisper of energy itself.
A pulse of something ancient beneath the surface of existence.
Lensin exhaled quietly.
"So you're not going to answer?"
The Creator raised one hand.
The motion was slow, deliberate —
and the entire dimension froze.
The drifting fog halted mid-air.
Even the lingering sparks from their battle froze like suspended glass.
Then a voice — soft, monotone, yet heavy enough to shape the world —
slipped into existence.
"An answer… is unnecessary."
His tone was neither cold nor warm.
"Everything you've done… I already know."
Sentrie's smirk faded slightly.
He tilted his head, golden hair glinting in the dim light.
"So you've been watching us, then?"
The Creator said nothing.
Yet that faint, unreadable smile was enough to confirm it.
Lensin took a single step forward,
his boots echoing against the lifeless stone.
"If you've been watching," he said, voice calm, "
then you know we won't trust someone who hides behind silence."
The air stirred.
The stilled energy began to move again,
as if the dimension itself had taken another breath.
The Creator tilted his umbrella slightly.
The shadow beneath it spilled across the ground,
forming symbols that pulsed faintly with light —
ancient, incomprehensible runes that even Sentrie could not read.
Sentrie's eyes narrowed, glowing faintly.
"This power… it's not from our dimension."
Lensin's hand hovered near his sword, but he didn't draw it.
Instead, he met The Creator's invisible gaze directly.
"Then what do you want from us?"
For a moment, there was no sound —
until a faint whisper echoed directly within their minds.
"I want nothing."
"I only wish to see… whether you can reach it."
Neither Lensin nor Sentrie spoke.
They didn't need to — the meaning was clear.
He wasn't guiding them.
He was testing them.
Sentrie let out a soft laugh.
"So we're pieces on your board after all."
Lensin followed, tone level. "Or maybe… we're part of your experiment."
The Creator finally responded — short, flat, emotionless.
"Call it a path."
The ground quivered again.
The mists began to move once more, folding around them like living fabric.
The silver light dimmed,
as if the whole world was about to end — or begin anew.
Sentrie muttered, half to himself, "A path… to where?"
Lensin didn't answer.
His eyes remained locked on The Creator,
who was slowly stepping backward, his form blurring into distortion.
Before disappearing completely, his final words came —
spoken softly, yet echoing across the dying world.
"To a place where you'll learn…
that emptiness is not the end."
Then, his body dissolved.
The umbrella fell, floating weightlessly before breaking apart into countless particles of dark light.
For a long moment, only the two of them remained.
Sentrie and Lensin stood in silence,
watching the last fragments of The Creator's presence fade away.
The golden light of Sentrie's eyes flickered.
He sighed with a crooked smile.
"He still talks like that — like every word hides ten more meanings."
Lensin sheathed his sword back into his dimension, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "But that's what keeps us moving."
Their gazes met briefly,
and for the first time since the battle ended, both of them smiled —
small, genuine smiles that cut through the cold.
In that silent, broken dimension,
a faint shimmer of light began to rise from the cracks beneath their feet —
the first sign that the world was not entirely dead.
And somewhere, far beyond the veil of creation itself,
a distant, almost inaudible voice whispered one last time:
"Your path… has only just begun."
Chapter 9.5 Void structure:The End of void
Silence ruled over everything.
After The Creator vanished into the air, no sound remained—no light, no vibration, not even the lingering energy of the battle.
Only the void remained, vast and unending, like a tide that had receded and left behind nothing but absence.
Sentrie stood within the fractured expanse of the dimension.
His gaze swept across the shattered ground, cracks glowing faintly with violet-black light that spread slowly, like veins of decay crawling across reality.
The dimension itself seemed to be falling apart.
Lensin approached quietly, his cloak whispering without wind.
"...He's gone, isn't he?"
His deep voice echoed softly, dissolving into the empty air.
Sentrie turned slightly, offering a faint smile—one that carried no joy, no sorrow, only confusion and thought.
"Seems that way…"
His eyes lingered on the spot where The Creator had once stood.
"Strange. He's gone, but I can still feel him watching."
Lensin nodded.
"Maybe he never left."
Neither spoke again.
There were no words that could define what they had just witnessed.
Time passed—or perhaps it didn't.
In a world without meaning, even "minutes" or "hours" ceased to exist.
They simply walked, endlessly, through the wasteland of nothingness.
Boredom crept into Sentrie's heart.
He began to question—
Where are we going?
Are we still in the same void, or has it changed into something else entirely?
Lensin walked beside him, silent.
The King of Monsters showed no emotion, yet in his eyes, something flickered—
Instinct.
The instinct of a creature who knew they were being watched.
Then—
a soft crack echoed beneath their feet.
They froze.
A small fracture opened beneath Sentrie's boots.
It spread rapidly, tearing through the surface like a mirror shattering under unseen pressure.
Within seconds, it became a deep pit—black, endless, pulsing with immense gravitational force.
Lensin raised his head slightly, observing the strange glow pulsing from within.
"...What is that?"
Sentrie's golden eyes gleamed in the dimness.
"It's not like any rift we've seen before."
His voice lowered, cautious.
"Could this be... an exit?"
Lensin didn't answer immediately.
He stepped closer to the edge, his presence stirring the air.
"...A dimensional breach."
He muttered, "If this really is a way out—"
Before he could finish, the pit came alive.
A sudden surge of power exploded outward.
Sentrie had no time to react.
The force grabbed hold of him like invisible hands.
"—!? Lensin!!"
His cry was swallowed by the void.
In an instant, he was gone—pulled into the darkness like a stone sinking into the depths of time.
Lensin's hand reached out, but grasped only empty air.
He stood there for a long moment, the silence pressing down on him like gravity.
"...That wasn't ordinary power," he whispered.
His gaze hardened.
He didn't know whether to follow or retreat—
but the decision was made for him.
The pit moved.
It wasn't just pulling—it was approaching, expanding like a living creature sensing its prey.
Lensin stepped back slowly.
Cracks spread out in all directions like a spider's web.
The air trembled; space itself groaned under the pressure.
Each step backward only made the pull stronger.
"...Damn it," he hissed.
He conjured a wall of energy, but it shattered the moment it touched the edge of the rift.
And before he could try again—
a wave of power burst from below, sending his body into the air.
The world inverted.
Then—darkness swallowed him whole.
The light went out.