The gathered Gods scattered like startled birds. A million silhouettes crossed space at speeds that outran light and arrived at the designated battlefield. Their collective evil aura arrived before they did, pressing against the chests of every watching God like a physical weight.
The area reorganized: two hundred thousand Imperial Gods on one side, one million evil Gods on the other. The scale difference was stark. This was already eighty percent of the Evil Pantheon's full strength, the remaining twenty percent were either in retreat or too far across the universe to return in time.
The spectators finally understood that the Evil Pantheon hadn't sent a mere delegation to scare the Great Aetherium into submission. They'd sent everything they could to destroy the empire.
Then the five thrones descended.
Malakar, Skarion, Micteya, Mordra, and Zakaria. A sixth presence lurked somewhere beyond the visible formations, the Titan Lord Varkath, holding back, waiting for the moment he judged critical enough to reveal himself.
Still five Supreme Gods' worth of Divine Power detonated across the battlefield simultaneously. The stars trembled. Every watching God in the surrounding fields, ten million of them, felt their breath catch. They felt something enormous pressing down from all directions at once.
From the Castle Lords at the edge of the battlefield, someone finally said what everyone was thinking:
"Five Supreme Gods and a million Evil Gods. The Aetherium Empire is done…"
The Evil Pantheon didn't attack immediately. A million strong, five Supreme Gods, and they'd been frozen by what they were looking at.
"Kaelix. Zarek. Jason—"
(T/N: Jason is the guy who tried to assassinate Haru in CH687.)
"And Maddox."
"Didn't they fall? We watched them fall!"
The murmur spread through the million-god formation like a crack running through ice. These weren't puppets, the aura of their soul was unmistakable, their Divine Aura identical to the originals. The God of Death Maddox, the God of Destruction Kaelix, the God of Slaughter Zarek, the Beast Gods, all of them standing in the Great Aetherium's ranks, alive, whole, and radiating Holy Light instead of Evil.
They weren't just resurrected. They were converted. Their souls were purified, their alignment flipped entirely. They'd come back as different beings.
"What did this empire do to them?"
No Evil God had an answer. Not even the five on their thrones.
Malakar broke the silence first, thinking aloud, "It wasn't time-reversal. Resurrecting this many High Gods simultaneously would cause fatal backlash from the River of Fate. Even Svetlana wouldn't survive that." He stared at the converted gods, "They used another method entirely. One we don't know."
"Then how do we find out?" Skarion said.
"Let's destroy them." the Lich Lord replied pleasantly, "And study what's left."
…
Micteya stared at her brother's face across the battlefield and said nothing. She'd come to retrieve his soul. Bring him home. Help him start over, however long it took. The plan had been simple.
Yet her brother was standing in the enemy formation, wearing holy light like a second skin, looking at the Evil Pantheon the way you look at something you intend to fight.
The elder sister had brought an army to save the younger brother. The younger brother had joined the other side.
…
Skarion's eyes fixed on Haru. His expression darkened, "His combat strength already seems somewhat comparable to us. Didn't he just ascend?"
"Indeed, that's seriously a pressing concern." Malakar said.
"You're telling me that neither of us can suppress a Castle Lord who's been a Supreme God for less than a week?"
"Combined, we handle him." Malakar's voice was flat, but the math was clearly bothering him too.
Zakaria's pale gaze had drifted past both of them, settling on the figure standing behind Haru. Eighteen wings of pure energy crackling with continuous lightning, no feathers, no flesh, just light and thunder shaped into the form of an Angel.
He said, "I want that one."
Malakar glanced over, "Intermediate-stage Supreme God. Same tier as you. Those wings aren't decorative."
"Combat experience separates ancient Supreme Gods like us from newbies." The Lich Lord's tone was serene, "I've studied Thunder Titans. I've studied Dimensional Demons. I haven't studied an Angel." He folded his pale hands, "I'll take her intact."
Malakar said nothing. He didn't share the Lich Lord's research enthusiasm. His own philosophy ran in the opposite direction entirely. Destruction, not study. He believed that if he could one day destroy the Endless Continent itself, the act would give him the comprehension needed to become a God Monarch. He was clearly wrong about how the promotion worked, but he didn't know that yet.
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