Weeks passed after Zephyr's fall. The battlefield where they had clashed remained a wound in reality—a place where natural law still struggled to reassert itself. Crystallized time hung in the air like frozen tears, each shard reflecting fragments of their battle. Where divine order had met chaos, reality had simply given up trying to make sense of itself.
In his war tent, Kael stood over maps spread across a weathered table, the parchment marked with the movements of his growing army. His generals knelt before him, awaiting orders. The void-marks on his skin pulsed with quiet power, each beat sending ripples through the ambient magic of the room.
A soldier burst into the tent, dropping to one knee. Sweat beaded on his brow, his voice trembling. "Lord Kael... the Crystal Empire has surrendered."
The announcement hung in the air. The generals exchanged glances, but Kael's expression remained unchanged.
"And?" His voice carried the weight of recent victory.
The soldier swallowed hard. "The royal family offers their complete submission. They wish to serve you as... as their new god."
The temperature in the tent dropped. Kael's void-marks darkened, and reality shuddered around him. The word 'god' seemed to leave a bitter taste in the air.
"Tell them this." Each word fell like a stone into still water. "I do not take servants."
"But my lord—" the soldier hesitated, "they control the largest army in the mortal realm. Their mages are—"
"Burn their throne."
The command was soft, almost gentle, but it carried such finality that even the generals flinched. The soldier bowed deeply and scrambled out.
Kael turned back to his maps, but his mind wandered to higher realms. He could feel it—the silence of the gods. Not the silence of peace, but the silence before a storm. They were planning something. Something different.