The battlefield lay in eerie silence, broken only by the distant murmur of retreating warriors. The air carried the scent of frost and fading embers, remnants of a war that had finally come to an end.
Ethan stood still, his golden eyes reflecting the ruins before him. The Rift was gone, its corruption wiped from existence, yet something unseen lingered in the air—something only he could perceive.
Within him, power pulsed. Not the restrained strength he had carried for years, nor the mere remnants of his godhood. This was different. Vast. Absolute. It didn't surge violently; it flowed with perfect control, like an ocean responding to his every thought.
No chains. No limits. Only power.
Mia watched him carefully from the side, her fingers gripping the hilt of her blade. She hadn't spoken since Ethan's silent signal in the last battle, but she didn't need to. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, asked the question that no one else dared to voice.
What now?