High above the mortal world, beyond the veil of clouds, stars, and laws, lay the Realm of the Gods.
It was a place of perfection—or so the gods claimed.
Golden palaces floated in endless voids of light. Rivers made of pure divine essence flowed through the sky. Thrones carved from concepts such as Time, War, Creation, and Fate stood in a great circular hall where the rulers of existence gathered.
And for the first time in countless eras…
The gods were afraid.
"He should not exist."
The God of Order slammed his staff against the crystal floor, sending ripples of law through the hall.
"Yet he does," replied the Goddess of Fate coldly, her many eyes flickering with fractured visions. "And worse—he exists outside my sight."
Murmurs spread through the hall.
At the center hovered a massive projection of a man standing beneath a darkened sky, crimson-gold aura flowing around him like a living storm.
Kevin Smith.
Former mortal.
Creator of the God Divine Arts.
Dragonborn.
Divine Martial Master.
An error.
"It has been one hundred years," growled the God of War. "One hundred years of assassins, divine beasts, heavenly calamities, and law-bound punishments. Not once has he fallen."
"Because he cannot," said the Goddess of Knowledge quietly.
All eyes turned to her.
She raised her hand, summoning countless glowing runes—records of every divine attempt made against Kevin Smith.
"Each method failed for a different reason," she continued. "Some were erased by his God Killing Punch. Others never reached him because of Dragon Magic manipulation. Several simply… ceased to exist when he noticed them."
Silence followed.
The God of Time spoke next, his voice distorted and layered.
"I attempted to rewind the moment of his birth. Time refused."
That caused an uproar.
"Refused?"
"Impossible!"
"Time answers to you!"
The God of Time's many eyes narrowed.
"Not when something stands outside causality."
The Goddess of Fate clenched her fists.
"Then there is only one solution left."
The hall went quiet.
Slowly, every god turned toward the ancient pedestal at the center of the chamber—now empty.
Once, resting there, had been the only weapon capable of killing a Dragonborn.
The Sword of Gods.
The Truth of Immortality
Dragonborns were not merely long-lived.
They were immortal.
Their bodies did not decay. Their souls did not weaken. Time flowed around them but never through them.
They could be wounded. Sealed. Suppressed.
But never killed.
Except by one thing.
The Sword of Gods.
A blade forged from the first divine law, sharpened by Creation itself, capable of severing immortality and erasing existence completely.
And now—
It was gone.
The Goddess of Fate's voice trembled with restrained fury.
"Sarah Watson carried the Sword of Gods in her pocket dimension. It was meant to awaken once she reached Tier 11 and execute Kevin Smith personally."
The God of War snarled.
"She never reached Tier 11."
"No," the Goddess of Fate whispered. "Because Kevin Smith killed her first."
The image shifted.
It showed Kevin standing over Sarah's fading remains, his arm still extended from the God Killing Punch.
The moment froze.
Then rewound.
Then advanced again.
In that single instant, something catastrophic happened.
"The Sword of Gods was destroyed," said the Goddess of Knowledge.
The gods stared at her.
"…Destroyed?"
She nodded grimly.
"When Sarah's pocket dimension collapsed upon her death, Kevin's Dragon Magic instinctively devoured everything within it. The Sword of Gods was unmade—broken down into raw law and absorbed."
The God of Creation rose from his throne.
"That weapon was absolute."
"Not to him," she replied.
The realization struck the gods like a hammer.
Kevin Smith was now—
Unkillable.
Five Hundred Years Later
The mortal world had changed.
Empires had risen and fallen. Continents had shifted. Dragons were no longer rulers of the skies—they were legends whispered in fear.
And Kevin Smith still walked the world.
Five hundred years after Sarah Watson's death, Kevin stood atop a mountain overlooking a vast sea of clouds. His black hair flowed freely, untouched by age, his face exactly as it had been when he was twenty-one.
He was 521 years old.
Dragonborns did not age.
They did not weaken.
They did not die.
Kevin inhaled slowly, Dragon Magic cycling effortlessly through his body. His divine core pulsed steadily, eternal and perfect.
"So," he murmured, gazing upward, "five hundred years and still nothing."
In that time, the gods had tried everything.
Divine beasts unleashed from sealed realms.
World-ending calamities disguised as natural disasters.
Chosen heroes blessed with impossible power.
Even attempts to erase Kevin's name from history itself.
All had failed.
Some attacks never reached him.
Others vanished the moment he noticed them.
A few brave—or foolish—gods had descended personally.
None returned.
Kevin extended his hand.
A silent ripple spread across the sky, extinguishing a distant divine surveillance spell without effort.
"They're scared now," he said calmly.
The Gods' Final Fear
Back in the Realm of the Gods, panic spread.
"He is growing stronger even without cultivating," shouted a lesser god.
"That shouldn't be possible!"
"He absorbs divine laws passively," replied the Goddess of Knowledge. "Dragon Magic grants infinite mana. The God Divine Arts refine it endlessly. Even standing still, he ascends."
The God of Order's voice cracked.
"If he decides to come here—"
"He won't," said the God of Time suddenly.
The hall turned to him.
"…Why?"
The God of Time closed his eyes.
"Because he doesn't need to."
A chilling silence followed.
Kevin Smith was not hunting the gods.
He was waiting.
Waiting for them to make the first mistake.
A World on the Brink
Kevin turned from the clouds and stepped forward, vanishing from the mountaintop.
Somewhere far away, a new divine fluctuation stirred—something ancient awakening, something even the gods feared to touch.
Kevin smiled faintly.
"Good," he said. "It's been a while since anything was interesting."
The immortal Dragonborn walked onward, his presence alone warping fate itself.
And for the first time since creation—
The gods understood the truth.
They had not created a rebel.
They had created their successor.