Seryne raised her face to the sky. The air around her still trembled with the oppressive presence of the Bird of Terror, but now something far greater, something far deeper, had descended upon this broken world.
Order, sudden and absolute, wrapped around the chaos like a veil of frost sealing a raging sea.
The God-Machine was here.
She knew this was not the deity's true form—its full power did not reach this far. What she had done was weave fragile threads of fate, connecting Zeta 4 to his deity, gambling on the automaton's faith and the influence of a god she had never seen, but whose existence, in this moment, was undeniable.
That celestial presence brought silence to the world.
Not a comforting silence.
A cold void—the kind that comes before a star collapses.
Seryne could not see the direct effects of her intervention, but she felt it in her instincts.
Of all the possible paths… this was the only one that offered even a flicker of hope.
Perhaps the only survivable path.
Above them, He watched.
Not with eyes, but with eternal formulas, spinning in patterns beyond mortal comprehension.
This world, He concluded, was defective.
His gaze fell beyond the Black Sun, searching for the source that had called Him.
He found Zeta 4, one of His infinite creations, standing upon the scorched ground.
The Black Sun tried to resist, its corruptive glow burning against the presence of the God-Machine—but the deity did not acknowledge the attempt.
The light of the cursed star was dismissed.
He extended a hand, and between His will and matter, there was no difference.
Space curved, and Zeta 4, along with Kiyoshi, was pulled upward—as if the ground had ceased to exist.
Zeta 4 saw the world vanish.
In the next instant, he stood before Him.
Here, time and space meant nothing.
Zeta 4 recognized the God-Machine instantly.
He had only one memory of this entity—his creation.
Now, in the presence of his Divine Architect, he attempted to kneel, but found he could not control his own body.
The God-Machine spoke.
Not with sound, but with vibration, through the structure of the world itself—passing through stone, flesh, and metal alike.
— I am here only as an avatar, Zeta 4.
— This world… is strange.
— I cannot take you with me. Not without directly interfering with this reality.
— That would bring more harm than benefit. Do you understand?
Zeta 4 wanted to answer immediately, but it took several seconds to regain the ability to speak.
— "M… My Father. Allow me to express my gratitude. I have shared with You my experiences in this world and how all has transpired. I beg forgiveness for disturbing You with my prayers…"
The God-Machine raised a hand.
Silence.
— You have done well, Zeta 4.
— Your escape from this place is in My interest.
— Therefore, I shall bless your journey.
Zeta 4 felt it.
Not heat from the environment, but something internal—as if every circuit, every line of code in his being had been rewritten with new purpose.
— That organic female lifeform, — the God-Machine continued, turning His gaze downward, — is the reason our connection exists within this place.
His attention turned to Seryne, standing at the edge of the abyss.
What curious behavior, He thought.
Even the Black Sun, which had raged against its chains, now trembled in His presence—like a wounded beast before an absolute predator.
Kaerith was still fighting.
Seryne's black blindfold, woven by fate, now covered Kaerith's hands like ethereal claws. The fabric had become gauntlets of destiny, each strike cutting not flesh, but the very certainty of existence.
Kaerith darted around the Bird of Terror, moving like a dragonfly circling a leviathan. She dove, slashed, twisted— her attacks were relentless, surgical, precise.
But… they were ineffective.
The bird did not bleed. It only screamed with greater hatred.
The symbiote within her mind whispered, its voice seething:
— Run, Kaerith! We can escape now! Forget this fight!
— You don't understand? — she answered, panting. — Or do you just want to make me hesitate? We cannot escape. If we run, it will find us. If we stand alone, we die anyway.
— I WANT TO SURVIVE! — the symbiote hissed.
— You want to survive. I want to live.
Kaerith dove, narrowly avoiding a claw swipe that ripped part of her left wing. She was injured—but persistent.
She knew she could not win this fight.
Victory was never the goal.
She only needed to buy time.
Then… she felt it.
The sky changed.
Above her, something beyond comprehension appeared—a pattern, a logic, a presence so distinct that even her symbiote fell silent.
And then…
Something struck the Bird of Terror.
Not a spear.
Not a bolt of lightning.
It was…
A Command.
Kaerith watched as the creature simply… ceased to exist.
There was no explosion. No resistance.
Its configuration was erased from reality—as if it had never belonged to the equation at all.
The Silence That Followed Was Absolute.
Kaerith deactivated her maximum fusion with the symbiote, and her mortal form returned.
Her wings trembled.
Her breath was ragged.
She barely had time to react before an invisible force pulled her through the air.
She was dragged effortlessly to the edge of the abyss, where Seryne knelt.
And before them…
The God-Machine floated.
Kaerith felt an instinctive urge to kneel.
Her legs trembled.
Her mind wanted to flee.
Her entire existence screamed that this being did not belong to the natural order.
Seryne remained still.
She could speak… but chose silence.
With all her remaining strength, she maintained the fragile connection sustaining the God-Machine's presence in this world.
She had never imagined it would work this well.
The God-Machine turned His attention to her.
— What do you seek, mortal?
— If you desire to leave this world, I cannot grant such a wish.
Seryne remained silent for a moment.
She dared not make a god wait.
— "Venerable God…" — her voice was weak, but firm. — "I beg You, if it is Your will, aid us in freeing… the sun below us."
The God-Machine paused.
The patterns in His form shifted, equations rewriting themselves across His translucent body.
— If that is all…
— It is simple.
Before He could act, the moment was interrupted.
A door appeared.
Not a normal door—but a distortion, as if reality were just a curtain being pulled aside.
Beyond it… stood a hooded figure.
The Sorcerer.
— Oh? — he smiled, holding a book that seemed to be struggling to escape his grip.
— Looks like I walked in on something important.
He glanced at the God-Machine.
Then at Seryne.
Then…
— Well… he shrugged. Don't mind me. I'll come back later.
And he closed the door.