chapter 16

The king, now standing beside the Devil—the first rebel, the fallen god—believed he had uncovered the ultimate truth. The gods were tyrants, the curse was a game, and history itself had been rewritten to hide the truth.

But even the Devil, for all his knowledge, had not seen everything

.

There was still one secret left. One truth buried even deeper than the war of the gods. A truth so ancient, so unfathomable, that even the gods themselves had forgotten it.

As the king prepared for war, he continued to search the ruins of time itself. The Devil had given him the strength to fight, but something still did not feel right.

How could gods, for all their power, fear being forgotten?

How could they wield time itself, yet still fear its passage?

Then, in the ruins of a civilization so old that even the Devil had no memory of it, the king found something that shattered all he had believed.

How could they wield time itself, yet still fear its passage?

Then, in the ruins of a civilization so old that even the Devil had no memory of it, the king found something that shattered all he had believed.

A throne.

Not the throne of his kingdom. Not the throne of the gods.

But something older. Something greater.

Carved into the walls of the lost temple were words in a language that should not exist. And yet, as the king ran his fingers over the ancient symbols, he understood them.

"Before the gods, there were others."

"Before time, there was something greater."

"And those who sit upon the throne shall become gods… until the next takes their place."

The gods were not eternal. They had never been.

They were merely the latest rulers in an endless cycle.

Before them, another pantheon had reigned. Before that, another. And before even them, an unknown force had ruled the cosmos.

And each time, the ones who had ruled were erased, just as the gods now sought to erase him.

The king turned to the Devil, his voice shaking.

"Do you know what this means?"

The Devil, for the first time in eternity, looked truly disturbed. He had believed he was the first rebel. The first to challenge the gods. The first to see the truth.

But he was not.

"We are all trapped in the same cycle," the king whispered. "The gods before us… they were erased. The gods now… they will be erased. And if we take their place…"

We will be erased next."

That was why the gods feared time. That was why they feared him. Because deep down, even they knew they were not above fate.

They were simply waiting for their time to end.

And now, the king had a choice.

Would he fight to destroy the gods… only to take their place?

Or would he find a way to break the cycle itself?

Or would he find a way to break the cycle itself?

The king had uncovered the final, terrifying truth—the gods were not eternal, nor were they the first to rule. They were merely the latest in an endless cycle of power, where each ruling pantheon was eventually erased and replaced. Even the Devil, the great rebel, had not known this.

But if every ruler before had been erased, then who had started the cycle?

Who had created fate itself?