CHAPTER 5

Matrix entered the palace, his footfalls echoing against the obsidian floor. A jarring figure sat upon the throne, a jagged scar bisecting his features. Red tattoos snaked across his bare, hairy chest, accentuating his bulging muscles.

"Welcome, World King. I've been expecting you."

Matrix narrowed his eyes. "A demigod."

The demigod rose from the throne, twirling a large golden spear between his fingers with practiced ease. "I'm Cyfor. I'm sure you've heard of me… World King."

"Indeed," Matrix replied, hands clasped behind his back, a wave of indifference crossing his features

"And I must admit… I'm not impressed."

"I know many tremble at your presence, World King, but today, with this god-slaying spear, I'm going to slay—"

Cyfor's words cut off abruptly. The being who had been directly in front of him a moment ago had vanished.

Stunned, Cyfor whirled around, assuming a defensive stance. He sensed a presence behind him, and in the next heartbeat, one of Matrix's hands clamped onto his chin, the other gripping the back of his head. He felt a wave of chilling power radiating from the god's touch, and that was the last time he felt...anything.

Matrix twisted Cyfor's head with such force that a crack, like a thunderclap, echoed through the throne room as his neck snapped. Cyfor offered no resistance, his body plummeting to the obsidian floor. But that alone wasn't enough to kill a powerful demigod. Before his corpse could hit the ground, Matrix seized it, plunging his hand into Cyfor's spine and absorbing his essence. A feral light ignited in Matrix's eyes. It had been a long time since he had fed. Sating that hunger twice in one day, after years of near-starvation, stirred a primal urge he had long struggled to suppress.

What remained of the demigod fell to the floor, crumbling like a shattered statue.

Matrix's face darkened with distaste, "Don't talk so much when you intend to kill."

he muttered. Picking up the spear, he briefly assessed its craftsmanship. It felt…light. With a grimace, Matrix seized both ends of the spear and bent it until the metal shrieked and snapped into two pieces with a deafening clang. He tossed the broken weapon aside and scoffed.

"So much for a god-slaying spear…"

Matrix immediately whirled around, a suffocating pressure, similar to the aura his father had only exuded in moments of fury, filling the hall. His gaze locked onto a figure lurking in the corner of the room, his face obscured by shadow, his dark, tenebrous essence billowing around him like a tattered shroud.

"The Fate King."

A breath of relief escaped Matrix's lips as he released his taut muscles. Instinctively, he clasped his hands behind his back. His father had taught him that he could trust the Fate King with his life.

Legend claimed that the Fate King possessed seven brains revolving at near-light speed, each housing an infinite reservoir of knowledge. Obviously, there was no way to confirm such claims, mostly because no being truly knew the extent of the Fate King's power and, therefore, even the strongest of gods approached him with caution. And the Fate King rarely revealed himself. As far as Matrix had lived, the Fate King's whereabouts had always been shrouded in mystery, making this appearance even more surprising.

"Welcome, Great One. It's been a long time," Matrix greeted.

The Fate King remained silent for a long moment. Finally, his voice, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of the palace, echoed in the hall.

"It's coming, War King. Evil roams this realm once more."

Matrix frowned, trying to decipher the Fate King's cryptic warning. Although it had always been a fool's errand for him...anyone actually, since the enigmatic being always spoke in parables.

He couldn't help but glance down at Cyfor's corpse, rigid as stone. Surely, he wasn't the evil the Fate King spoke of. The demigod had simply been avenging his fallen faction members,which matrux was solely responsible for and he was dead now. The dead do not roam.

Suddenly, Matrix experienced an epiphany, an insight that pierced through the fog of his confusion. He looked up, his eyes widening, and replied…

"If you speak of Scarlet Dust, Fate King, I assure you, she is under my complete control."

The Fate King replied, his voice like the combined roar of a thousand men. A fleeting note of concern, incongruous with his soulless tone, surfaced.

"I speak of things you know nothing about, world King."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Death. Chaos. Retribution. It is coming."

Heads will roll, and blood will flow." The Fate King slashed his wrist with a blade seemingly forged of shadow of one. A few drops of black blood dropped onto the obsidian floor. "This is the death of this world, and the birth of another."

He vanished, leaving behind only the lingering chill of his ominous words.

Matrix felt discombobulated, his godly intellect momentarily struggling to process what had just transpired.

For years, he had harbored resentment toward his father, condemning his apparent insensitivity. Now, with the weight of power pressing down on him, he finally understood the crushing burden his father had carried.

He slumped onto his throne, a rare display of exhaustion. He needed to talk to someone. Then, casting aside his pride, he retreated into the spirit realm. He needed to speak with Se'mudara.