Vines erupted from the ground, spearing through all four limbs of Mortis

  and Chronos

  Arlen walked forward.

  For the first time in his endless existence, the God of Death

  understood what it means to witness his own death walking towards him.

  His domain did not answer him.

  His throne did not respond.

  The laws he had rewritten so many times had been overwritten instead.

  The forest did not obey him.

  Mortis turned his head desperately toward the other gods—begging without words. None met his gaze. After the truths he had revealed about Lysander

  and Nomos

  He looked to Solon

  The Gatekeeper stood unmoving. Unjudging. Uninterested.

  Mortis screamed and forced his hand toward the vines, trying to infect them with his death curse. Pain tore through him—but the vines regenerated faster than his curse could rot them.

  Arlen raised Soul Eater

  “The tides have turned, parasite,” he said coldly.

  “Now die.”

  But fate twisted once more.

  The ultimate puppet moved.

  Even shackled. Even hollowed. Even stripped of memory—Chronos

  He tore free and stepped in front of Mortis, intercepting Arlen’s strike with impossible force.

  “Yes—my puppet!” Mortis shrieked. “Kill him! Save your master!”

  Chronos’ body bled freely, flesh torn and bones cracked—but he did not react. Not from endurance like Arlen’s, but because even pain itself

  “Tch.”

  Arlen leapt back, clicking his tongue.

  Dryas’ voice rang out behind him.

  “Arlen! My forest can’t keep up with Borrower’s Will attacks—it’s too much!”

  Arlen didn’t look back.

  “Don’t worry, Dryas,” he said calmly. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

  His eyes locked onto Mortis—not Chronos.

  “I hate to admit it,” Arlen continued, voice steady, ruthless, “but I’ll win this fight because of your help

  Then he sneered.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “As for you, God of Time—your death is reserved for my hands.

  But Right now?”

  “You’re just background noise.”

  He charged.

  Chronos’ attacks slammed into him—blades of fire, ice, judgment. Flesh tore. Blood sprayed. Dryas’ healing barely kept him upright.

  A blast of frost struck his left arm—freezing it solid and shattering it mid-charge

  Arlen didn’t slow. Truth, even waiting for a moment to heal properly would work for Arlen. But both he and soul eater is too much hungry for mortis' core, they don’t care about healing.

  Another divine strike cleaved through his right hand—fingers severed cleanly

  Dryas gasped.

  Mortis smiled.

  If Soul Eater slipped now—even for an instant—Mortis could touch him.

  One touch was all it would take.

  But Arlen grinned.

  A grin so vicious, so predatory, it dwarfed Mortis’ own cruelty.

  The blade did not fall.

  “Surprised?” Arlen laughed.

  “I forgot to mention something.”

  His blood-soaked stump clenched.

  “I don’t need fingers to hold my weapon. CAUSE I HAVE A PARASITE IN MY HAND.”

  The pollens

  “And I don’t fight alone.”

  Before anyone could react—

  Soul Eater pierced Mortis’ chest.

  Straight through.

  The god’s core split in two

  Mortis screamed.

  “OATHBINDER,” Arlen roared, voice echoing through the shattered domain.

  “KEEP HIM ALIVE.”

  The command slammed into reality.

  Mortis’ divinity collapsed.

  And just like that—

  The God of Deathmortal

  Pinned. Broken. Breathing.

  Chronos collapsed to the ground.

  All the memories stolen from him came rushing back at once—every betrayal, every lie, every erased truth slamming into his mind simultaneously. His body convulsed under the sheer weight of it. No scream came out.

  He simply lost consciousness and collapsed.

  At the same moment, the parasitic butterfly

  Arlen smiled faintly.

  “Welcome back, Aura.”

  Far away, deep within the underworld, a body that had been declared dead drew breath again

  Solon turned his back on Mortis.

  “The victor is the God Slayer,” the Gatekeeper declared.

  “And the fate of the former God of Death now lies in his hands.”

  With that judgment delivered, Solon vanished—leaving behind no trace that he had ever been there. Only the tap of his cane echoed throughout the entire cosmos.

  Dryas stepped forward, her voice trembling yet steady.

  “Please,” she pleaded softly, “end him painlessly… without making him suffer more than necessary.”

  A massive tree bent downward, offering its branches as a seat to the mortal who had become more divine than any god.

  Arlen walked toward Mortis.

  Every god present held their breath.

  Mortis, stripped of divinity, stripped of authority, grovelled

  “P–Please! Don’t kill me!” he cried. “I’ll confess everything! I’ll give you Silent Weaver! I’ll repent—!”

  “Shut up, dumbass.”

  Arlen’s voice was flat. Empty.

  “You misunderstand something,” he continued, smiling faintly.

  “I don’t care about your sins. I don’t care about your repentance. I didn’t destroy your divinity because it was right. Don’t think I am some saint or hero of justice.”

  His demonic eye burned.

  “I destroyed it because I wanted to.”

  He leaned closer.

  “Your death isn’t justice. It isn’t balance. It isn’t salvation.”

  “It’s my reason to fight.”

  Without turning around, Arlen spoke again.

  “Dryas… sorry. I can’t honour your request.”

  He lifted Soul Eater—

  And threw it

  The blade spun through the air and landed perfectly in Cornea’s

  grasp.

  The Demon Queen of the Hollow Court stepped forward.

  Dryas gave an understanding nod, then she bowed her head, thanking the plants and beasts that had answered her call, and dismissed them with a single breath.

  “I kept my promise,” Arlen said calmly.

  “The God of Death—the wielder of Silent Weaver—has been brought to his knees before you.”

  He looked at Cornea.

  “Now fulfil your revenge, Demon Queen of the Hollow Court.”

  Across heaven, underworld, and beyond—

  The entire cosmos waited for her decision – the faith of the manipulator who once aimed for the throne of the primordial father now bound in the palms of the Demon Queen.