The Death of a God

The Silence After the End

There was no explosion.

No cataclysmic collapse.

No triumphant declaration of victory.

The Throne of the Betrayer had simply ceased.

Its golden light faded into dust, vanishing into the abyss like it had never existed. The sky above, once cracked and bleeding with the weight of eternity, slowly stitched itself back together. The battlefield, once a chaotic prison of golden chains and fallen Riftborn, was now silent.

Ethan exhaled. His golden-shadow flames flickered around him, but they no longer burned as intensely as before.

He had ended it.

Not through force.

Not through power.

But through rejection.

For the first time in history, a Riftborn had refused the game.

And now…

Everything was still.

Then—

A whisper.

It was not the voice of the Throne.

Not the voice of the Rift.

Not the voice of any being Ethan had ever encountered before.