10th Day of the 1st Fire Cycle[1], 2000, g.c.
Beyond the reach of mortal skies—past where Gaia's atmosphere surrendered to the unknown—there existed a layer of reality most beings would never even comprehend. An infinite dimension folded neatly within the architecture of the Prime Realms, where the Heavens of Paradiso floated like an idea made manifest. That's where my enemies ran to lick their wounds.
A hexagonal portal cracked open in front of Eden's gate, its edges humming with compressed space as it tore through hyperspace and spat Orion out like a rejected thought. His body staggered forward, boots scraping against the pristine ground as the portal snapped shut behind him with a clean, final click. The sky above him rotated. Colors shifted in a slow, hypnotic cycle—gold into violet, violet into cerulean, cerulean into something that didn't even have a name. Light existed everywhere and nowhere at once, bathing the entire space without a visible source.
Then Orion realized that there were no shadows. It didn't burn or anything. The shit just was.
The air carried no scent. No heat. No weight. Just a soft caress against his skin, like existence itself was trying to calm you down.
And beneath it all, a chorus.
Faint. Breathy. Unseen voices layered into a ghostly hymn that seemed to resonate directly with the soul. It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. The sound sank into Orion's being, easing the tension in his muscles, dulling the sharp edge of his irritation.
But it couldn't fix everything.
Because his right eye was still bleeding. Thick, divine, golden blood streamed down his cheek, staining his milky beige skin as it refused to close. His [Divine Regeneration]—a skill that mocked death itself—was failing.
And that alone told a story.
Orion didn't move right away. His grip tightened slightly around the object in his hand. Luda's hand. Severed. Bloody. Still carrying remnants of mana that hadn't fully dissipated yet.
His gaze hardened. A thought, ugly and undeniable, formed in his mind.
"It's no mistake." His voice came out low. "That was the true Abraxas of this Stellar Kingdom Cycle."
His thumb brushed along the dried blood, almost thoughtfully.
"Xida, as that fusion referred to himself, was the glitch mentioned in the Dead Sea Scrolls." His jaw set.
"Xiro is simply a means to his creation. A virus that needs to be contained."
He dragged his fingers through his beard, slow, methodical—processing.
Then, from behind him, a new sound rang.
"Sir Orion, a pleasure to see you back in Paradiso."
The voice hit like a war drum.
Heavy as fuck. Booming. Full of fiery presence.
Orion didn't turn immediately, but the ground behind him felt different.
Hooves.
Each step struck with force, sending faint embers skittering across the surface like sparks that refused to die. The figure that approached was massive—eight feet tall at least—his body wrapped in red and black armor that blended angelic design with something far more sinister.
Ashen-black skin. Black wings folded behind him. Jet-black facial hair framed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Aries.
The War Ram of Heaven.
And for the first time since stepping through that portal—
Orion acknowledged someone else.
"Aries," he said flatly, not even looking back yet. "Has Libra returned from Soulfarm 706?"
Aries snorted lightly, crossing his arms as heat distorted constantly around his body.
"Why would I keep up with the scroll reader?" His gaze flicked over Orion's condition, interest sharpening. "I'm more intrigued by who put you into such an appearance."
Before Orion could answer, another presence filled the space. No footsteps. No sound. But full arrival.
"Dominion Orion has just had an altercation with budding Archons."
Aries stiffened instantly. And I mean straightened the fuck up, quickly.
Fear—not loud, not dramatic, but unignorably real—tightened his posture as he turned.
"Archon Destini! A pleasure to be blessed with your beauty."
She stood there like she had always been there.
Red hair cascaded down her back in slow, unnatural motion, as if gravity asked her for permission before acting. Her presence didn't overwhelm, and yet it still defined the space around her. Those large tits were still barely held behind the simple straps she wore as a shirt. Still stealing gazes from anyone around.
"Aries," she said calmly, her eyes settling on him. "Do you believe yourself stronger than Taurus?"
Without hesitation—
"Without a doubt." His chin lifted slightly. "There are at least two others alongside me who rival many Second Sphere members in battle skills."
She tilted her head.
"Do you believe you could defeat Orion on the battlefield?"
That confidence?
It suddenly faltered.
"…No," he admitted after a beat. "I'm still no match against Sir Orion."
"As I figured," she replied smoothly. "This means I may need to request assistance from the Muons."
Aries let out a low whistle.
"The idea of Paradiso's strongest warriors needed in the lower realms is surreal in thought. I knew that Soulfarm killed Virgo, but now to produce new divinities that defeated Sir Orion..."
His grin grew.
"That sounds intriguing. I must visit that place again."
Destini smiled.
But it wasn't warm. Just simply sharp.
"Gaia houses two new Archons, with potential to grow more."
Aries blinked.
"…Two?"
"That removes ownership of the Soulfarm until reclaimed during the Rapture."
Her eyes narrowed just slightly.
"If you go and attempt to harvest now, it could be seen as a crime against the Prime Realm System."
Aries blinked.
Then laughed under his breath.
"Who would be so crazy to take a world known for worshipping Aeon Jerrica?"
Her answer came without hesitation.
"The original Grim Reaper of existence. The Archon of Night."
That made Aries scoff.
"Stop with the lies. The Archon of Night doesn't exist. Everyone knows that. He's just an eldritch tale from a Kingdom Cycle long gone." He waved a hand dismissively.
"Next, you will say that the Archon of Day was the other."
Destini didn't flinch.
"Why would I lie when the truth is much scarier?" She stepped closer. "You do know that I fought the Archon of Night before, correct?"
That made him pause.
Eyes narrowing.
"I've heard the whispers from the upper spheres, but I thought surely they were just tales from boredom."
His gaze flicked between her and Orion.
"No way you could have been around for the 1st Kingdom Cycle."
Silence hung for a beat.
Orion finally turned. One eye locked onto Aries.
"Taurus is dead."
Those words hit'em heavy.
"Killed by the Archon of Night."
Aries blinked. Once. Then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Did that cow-faced jerk really die on the job?"
But the humor faded fast.
"If the Abraxas truly exists... then I must—"
"I will be moving all of the remaining Zodiac Keys to Soulfarm 706," Orion cut in, voice cold. "In an attempt to keep the new Archons contained."
Aries studied him carefully now. Eyes dropping to the blood still staining his face.
"I deduce that the person who took your right eye was also…"
Orion didn't hesitate.
"Yes. It was the Archon of Night."
Destini stepped forward again, her tone shifting back into command.
"Aries, I would like you to relay this information to the other Zodiacs—that the lower realms have become dangerous to Choir Members."
Her gaze sharpened.
"As well as Gaia no longer being available for free harvesting."
Aries bowed quickly, head dipping low—but there was something in his smile. Fear. Curiosity. Excitement. A dangerous mix. Then he moved. And in a single step, he was gone—disappearing into a direction that didn't seem to exist.
Now it was just the two of them. Destini turned slowly, her hair flowing behind her like liquid satin, eyes lowering onto Orion. Her breasts jiggled with a long ripple that took on a life of its own.
"Our perfect window to harvest Xiro's core has closed."
Her voice softened—but not in comfort.
"We won't be able to claim the Abraxas Code before moving into the next phase for Project Solomon."
Orion adjusted his vest slightly, irritation flickering beneath his composure.
"If we move quickly, we could assault Xiro with a coordinated attack and still retrieve his core."
Destini shook her head.
"The amount of force needed to kill Xiro now is enough to kick-start the Rapture before its time." She stepped closer. "Plus, he is too equal to your current strength."
Her eyes met his.
"Attempting a rematch so soon would only end in your death." A beat passed. "Even with the use of your Ultra Skill, I can't plan out your victory."
That made Orion's brow twitch.
"Are you saying that you planned for my loss against Xiro?"
"Yes," she said plainly.
"Still, Xiro was fated to die at the hands of someone he trusted once he challenged you." Her gaze darkened slightly. "It was a Nexus Event that even determinism couldn't dodge."
She paused.
"He altered it." Her voice dipped lower. "Xiro changed the flow of the time-grains and created a future I can no longer read. One I can no longer control."
Orion went still for a second.
"Xiro managed to recreate an Axion when he combined with Luda."
That got her attention.
"Is that what severed my connection?" she asked. "Everyone in the Heavens felt that presence."
Her eyes sharpened. "Sounds like a problem. If Xiro has reached that stage of evolution already."
"He didn't retain the body," Orion replied. "Once their combined Soul Core broke down, they divided and reverted."
His gaze narrowed.
"It appears that the Demon Lord needed the Archon of Day to achieve that level of code manipulation."
Destini waved that off lightly.
"The Archon of Day lacks his original strength. He won't be of any concern this Stellar Kingdom Cycle."
Her eyes locked onto him again.
"It is the Archon of Night you need not to underestimate."
Orion's expression hardened.
"That Oni is just another step in my climb to the top." His voice dropped. "I will not let him deny me of my destiny."
Destini went quiet. Thinking.
Then something lit behind her eyes. Excitement.
"If Xiro and Luda combined bodies..."
Her gaze shifted to Orion's hand.
"...then that hand you retrieved should have interesting bio-data to use."
Orion's brow lifted slightly.
"Has the [Mark of the Beast] always been a sample recorder?"
"Yes," she replied smoothly. "Once activated, it will auto-copy datons from the body, spirit, and mind."
That made something click in Orion's thoughts.
"Now I understand why we're giving the mortals those supplements."
His lips curled faintly.
"Each one gives them a [Mark of the Beast] after usage."
Destini smiled wider.
"Thanks to your excellent work with those production plants, millions of Cultivation Pills are being flooded through Gaia."
She stepped closer. Her tits entered the space first like a scout.
"Creating a built-in army for the Demiurge to control." Another step. "Be worshipped by."
Now she was right in front of him, breasts pressed against his chest.
"All without anyone noticing."
She lifted her hand.
Placed it gently over his bleeding eye. Soft silver motes of Primal Mana shimmered into existence, flowing from her palm like liquid starlight. The energy sank into his wound, stitching divine flesh back together with a precision that felt almost surgical.
The bleeding stopped. The damage was sealed. But a scar remained. Running across his brow and down his cheek. Permanent. A mark and reminder.
"It is time we meet with the Elohim," she said quietly, leaning in close enough for her breath to brush against his ear.
"She has something to speak with you about."
She pulled away, smiling.
Then turned toward Eden's gate, her hips swaying slightly as she walked.
Orion blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Testing the eye. Then his gaze followed her. Sharp. Focused. And without another word, he stepped forward. Chasing the Archon of Fate into Eden.
Where the Elohim's Eminece awaited.
The moment Orion and Destini crossed deeper into Eden from Paradise, the atmosphere itself responded—announcing them with a subtle flare.
As they stepped forward, trumpets rose from nowhere and everywhere at once, their notes bright, layered, and impossibly pure. The sound didn't travel through the air like normal music; instead choosing to bloom into existence, cascading across the land in golden waves. Each note carried a weightless authority, like Heaven itself was acknowledging without needing to speak a word.
The ground beneath them softened into rolling hills of endless flora, myriad colors so vibrant they almost felt unreal. Flowers bloomed in patterns that shifted subtly as they passed, petals opening just a little wider, stems leaning just slightly toward the Archon of Fate as if they were alive in a way Gaia could never replicate. Above them, the sky remained an all-white expanse—yet, far from empty. Soft hues of pink, gold, lavender, and pale blue glossed across it like a living canvas, constantly shifting, constantly breathing.
And the air...
It carried that hibiscus scent. Fresh. Crisp. Invigorating in a way that didn't just hit lungs and soul. Every breath felt like it cleaned something inside you, washing away fatigue, doubt, even pain. It was peace. Perfect, curated peace. The kind of shit that almost felt fake if you stared at it too long.
They moved into Eden's eastern quadrant, where the land opened up into wider valleys and luminous fields. That's where the Cherubs were. Floating. Watching. Working. Judging. Each one was a living contradiction of beauty and terror. Their forms held four faces—human, lion, ox, and bird—each expression layered over the other in a constant, seamless awareness of everything around them. Their bodies moved with four wings, two lifted high to touch neighboring cherubim like they were forming invisible chains of connection, while the other two wrapped around themselves in reverence.
Their feet—calf-like hooves—pressed lightly against the air as if gravity didn't fully apply to them, gleaming with that metallic bronze sheen that reflected the endless colors of the sky.
And their bodies...
Covered in eyes. Not just placed randomly, but woven into their existence. Every inch of them observed something. Saw something. Knew something. Beneath their wings, human hands extended, performing tasks too complex for mortal understanding—adjusting flows of divine energy, weaving unseen constructs, maintaining the structure of Eden itself.
As Orion passed, those countless eyes turned.
Not in fear. Nor in awe. But indifference. Cold. Measuring. Indifference.
But when Destini stepped forward beside him? The shift was instant.
Those same faces rotated—human to lion, lion to ox, ox to bird—aligning in subtle reverence as their attention settled on her. There was something almost admiring in the way they regarded her. Not submission. Not quite worship. But close.
Orion ignored all of it. Didn't slow. Didn't react.
Instead, he lifted a hand slightly, and with a faint flick of will and Divinity Mana, a new pair of glasses formed into existence. Silver frames. Clean and minimal. The lenses remained crystal clear. They didn't enhance his sight. Didn't boost perception. Didn't do a damn thing, really. He just liked the look. Slid them onto his face like it was routine. Beside him, Destini moved with a different kind of gravity.
Her fingers flickered idly, adorned with rings embedded with primordial magic gems. Each subtle movement caused those rings to brush together, producing soft, crystalline chimes that harmonized with the distant trumpets still echoing through Eden.
Her body moved like a rhythm. Every step she took sent a gentle sway through her hips, her chest following naturally—full, heavy, and impossible to ignore. The soft glow of divinity sparkled across her skin like stardust, catching on the curves of her titties as they bounced subtly with each motion.
It was exaggerated. It was controlled. It was hypnotizing all the same.
She turned her head slightly, voice smooth and silky.
"Orion, are you truly prepared to give up everything you know and have now to become the Demiurge?"
He didn't hesitate. Didn't even blink.
"Without a second thought." His voice was flat. Absolute. "I would give up the souls of everyone in the universe of the Prime Realms if required."
That answer didn't shock her.
Didn't even faze her. She simply nodded once, as if confirming something she already knew.
"The only soul that will be needed is yours." Her fuchsia eyes drifted forward again, gaze distant yet precise. "If that conviction holds, then a new future will be set for this Kingdom Cycle. For every Stellar Kingdom afterwards."
He adjusted his vest slightly, smoothing it out with a small tug.
"Once I achieve my goal, I expect you to fulfill your promise of belonging to me."
That made her pause. Just for a moment.
Then she turned her head fully toward him. Her strawberry-red hair slipped over her shoulders, framing her face as it brushed against her skin in soft strands.
"So that thought still plagues your heart, huh?"
There was a teasing edge to her voice now.
"Fonding over the touch of your creator gives you a common ground with the new Archon of Night."
Orion's expression didn't change.
"We can't relate."
His tone sharpened slightly.
"He has his creator... and his previous existence had mine."
That earned a small lift of her brow.
"Is that jealousy?" She stepped just a little closer, eyes studying him more carefully now. "That brush with death has you revealing more of your mind than in the last dozen eons."
A beat passed. Then he asked her, "Do you dislike it?"
For the first time, she hesitated. Just slightly.
"...No."
Her voice softened.
"It's a welcoming company."
And then...
She smiled. Not that composed, knowing smile she usually wore. Something much softer. Warmer. Almost girlish. A faint blush tinted her cheeks, subtle but undeniable. Her body responded to the shift in mood—her nipples tightening beneath the delicate straps barely containing her chest, the fabric-like leather doing little to hide the reaction.
Orion noticed.
Of course he did. His gaze dipped for the briefest second. Just enough to register. Just enough to appreciate. But even in that moment, even with her playing the part—soft voice, blushing cheeks, teasing tone—there was something underneath it. Something managed. Premeditated. Destini never lost control.
Not really. Every reaction, every shift in her demeanor, always felt like it was being guided by something deeper. Like she was letting him think he was steering the conversation, letting him feel like he had influence. Like he could reach her.
But in reality? She was the one setting the pace. The one choosing what to reveal. The one deciding how far things went. Even her intimacy felt curated. Directed.
And Orion? For all his power, for all his ambition—
He was still dancing in a space she designed. And I ain't gon' lie...
From the outside? It was something I liked about her. To keep it G.
Their long ass walk didn't slow any, either. Time in that place didn't behave like it did on Gaia. While four full days passed back home, it felt like a passing conversation in Paradiso. Moments folded into themselves. Steps measured intention, not distance.
And while they moved, they talked. Casually, but not aimlessly. Two beings dissecting a universe they both intended to reshape.
Orion spoke on the Archons with a detached kind of honesty—like they were tools, threats, and stepping stones all at once. Aeons weren't gods to him. They were resources. Constructs. Mana systems waiting to be overridden. Other beings outside the Choir of Heaven? Same treatment. Everything that existed was either useful or in the way.
He talked about Gaia and the idea of Soulfarms like they were test runs. Sample worlds and shit. He had walked among mortals before, but never truly with them. He didn't sit with them. Didn't learn them. Didn't value them.
He observed. Cataloged. Judged.
Always judging.
"I saw wonderful designs," he said at one point, his voice calm, almost clinical. "Willing slaves, ready to be shaped into something greater. Having a fragment of their soul be made from the pleroma allows them the promise of great potential."
There was no emotion in it. Just evaluation.
"But flawed creations. Inefficient. Limited. Bound by outdated parameters." His gaze sharpened slightly behind those glasses. "Something the first Demiurge failed to correct."
Destini listened like she always did—half-engaged on the surface, fully calculating underneath. Every word he spoke added to something she was already building in her mind.
And when they spoke about Soulfarms? That's where the conversation got darker.
Upgrades. Refinements. Ways to produce better spiritual enslavement. Not just harvesting souls, but conditioning them. Breaking them down into something more manageable. More obedient.
"The more people give into the Outer Faith System…" Destini murmured, her fingers brushing together as those rings chimed softly. "…the more Paradiso is fueled."
Her eyes flicked forward, distant.
"Faith is the most efficient form of control. It sustains itself while surrending their creation of God Qi to those it worships."
Orion nodded slightly.
"And once they have the mark?"
Her lips curved.
"They will never truly belong to themselves again."
By the time they reached the Elohim's Eminence, the space itself felt different. The trumpets returned. But this time? They didn't welcome. They simply announced. Each note struck in perfect equilibrium, layered and synchronized like a divine system acknowledging something far above rank or title.
The massive doorway ahead of them began to open. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
Light spilled through the cracks first—blinding, absolute—forcing Orion's eyes to narrow as the brilliance expanded outward. Then came the sound. Singing. Harmonic hums layered into hymns that stretched infinitely, echoing across a space that didn't seem to have an end.
The doors fully opened. And what waited inside?
Was a motherfuckin' statement.
Gold. Platinum. Divinity carved into form. The Eminence existed in an open sky that somehow stayed contained, clouds drifting in place like they were caught in a loop they couldn't escape. They moved, but never traveled. A pair of ivory pillars rose upward, holding nothing and everything at the same time. When Orion glanced behind him, the space reflected endlessly—like he was staring into a tunnel of infinite versions of the same moment. No beginning. No end. Just continuation.
Along the sides of a grand pedestal stood the Ophanim. Interlocking rings. Burning. Rotating. Covered entirely in eyes. Every damn thing was covered in eyes.
Each ring moved independently, yet perfectly synchronized, flames licking across their surfaces without consuming them. Their presence alone carried weight—like standing near something that didn't need to prove the strength it held.
Their song ended. All at once. And the silence that followed was heavy. Denser than gravity.
Suddenly, her.
Laniakea.
The Elohim.
The Archon of Endless Skies.
She sat cross-legged upon her throne like none of this required effort. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like the entire structure of existence was just another room she occupied.
Her body told a different story.
Muscle layered over feminine curves in a way that felt intentional—power and allure fused into one design. Her abdomen flexed slightly as she shifted, each movement tightening and releasing like coiled strength resting beneath smooth skin. A golden silk skirt draped over her waist, spilling across her thick thighs in soft folds that did very little to hide the shape beneath. Her chest—
Yeah. That area commanded attention.
Full. Heavy. Cleavage deep enough to catch light like it had somewhere to rest. In that department, even Destini had competition standing in front of her. Her face? Unbelievably average. And somehow that made everything else more dangerous. Rose-colored lips. Warm beige complexion. Celadon-green eyes that didn't just look slutty—but they read you with fine detail.
Her hair fell in long cappuccino curls, catching gold highlights depending on how the light touched it. Two horns curved upward from the sides of her head, ivory-tipped and smooth, framing a halo that burned with a light so intense it blurred the edges of reality around it. Truly, a bad bitch from above.
"An age hath withered since last thou stood before mine Eminence, Destini."
Her voice didn't come from her mouth alone. It echoed. Everywhere.
Layered with something deeper—like the weight of an entire universe pressed into every syllable.
The moment it hit, Destini bowed. Orion followed.
Not out of fear.
Simply out of understanding. That this wasn't optional.
Destini lifted her gaze first, pale fuchsia eyes shining under that overwhelming presence.
"All exaltations be rendered unto thee, O Most High. I perceive thy form flourishes most abundantly."
A pause stretched.
Then—
Laniakea stood.
No transition. No movement. One moment, she was on the throne.
The next? She was right beside Destini. Close. Too close.
"My thighs have grown most indulgent, have they not?"
She turned slightly, letting the divine light trace along her body, highlighting every curve with a slow, deliberate glow.
"I have permitted myself too many luxuries."
Destini didn't miss a beat.
"Remnants of your Infernian traits surfacing again?"
The air shifted. Subtle. But sharp.
"Peace thy tongue." Her voice dropped. "Speak not of such things before lesser ears."
Her attention moved. Settled. Locked onto Orion.
"O Fugue Syn of Hubris… thou hast stirred the loom of destiny with restless hands. Hast thou not?"
Her gaze sharpened. "The inversion of a world's hourglass hath rewritten futures yet unborn."
Orion straightened slightly.
"A few of the Sonata Syn Cores have started their blossoming. Their maturation accelerated."
His voice remained controlled.
"It was the only way to prevent it from leading to a negative event chain."
She stepped closer. Slow. Measured. Her eyes dragged across him, stopping at the scar over his eye. Her fingers lifted. Didn't touch. But hovered.
Close enough to feel.
"Thou hast beheld him, I see."
Her voice softened, but it carried something colder beneath it.
"Thou wound. It sings of fear unspoken."
Orion didn't flinch.
"Fear? I hold no fear, Your Excellence."
Her eyes narrowed. Sharp. Cutting.
"Disrobe thy pretense, Orion. I am no Choirling to be beguiled by half-truths."
A beat of silence.
"Speak plainly unto me. How formidable is Omnia's reborn Xero? The devil named Xiro Mikazuki."
He answered without hesitation.
"He stands as a credible threat to Paradiso."
A pause.
"He easily dispatched Taurus and nearly killed the suppressed me."
Silence followed. Deep. Unmoving. Heavy enough to feel pressing against the bones.
Suddenly, she was gone. Back on the throne. Like she had never moved. Looking down. Always down. Her fingers brushed her chin slowly as she studied him. Measured him, again. Confirmed something. Then her gaze shifted.
"Destini, a query I now lay before thee."
Her voice carried again.
"Hast thou fashioned the mortal shell for Yaldabaoth?"
Destini bowed her head slightly.
"It is complete, Your Eminence. Principality Libra expedited its genesis utilizing Sophia's data."
A pause.
"All that awaits is your word."
Orion's eyes flicked to her. Quick. Sharp. Then lowered again before it could be noticed. But it was too late.
"Trouble not thy spirit, Orion." Laniakea's voice wrapped around him.
"Thy clandestine endeavor hath not escaped mine sight." A slow breath. "Project Solomon was never hidden from me."
His breathing stayed steady. Barely. His jaw tightened—just slightly.
"I behold thy yearning..."
Her voice softened.
"To ascend beyond station. To enthrone thyself as the axis of all governed."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"It was by mine own decree that Destini did extend such a path unto thee."
That caught him.
Just enough.
"To receive sanction from the Elohim herself..." he said quietly. "Is beyond expectation."
"It is not a sanction, Orion." Her eyes sharpened. "It is inevitability."
A pause.
"Thy path was etched into existence at the hour of thy creation." Then her tone shifted. Heavier.
"Thy clash with the reborn Archon of Night hath torn fissures through the pleroma of Paradiso."
Her gaze darkened. "If the Abraxas has truly returned, then hesitation with Destini's plan is heresy."
Destini stepped forward slightly.
"The Demiurge, in antiquity, bore the mantle of the Archon of Day—ordained to contain Xero before his transgression slew Khaos and Order alike through aetherial supremacy."
Orion nodded once.
"The first sovereign to bear the mantle of Elohim."
"Just so." Laniakea's voice remained steady. "Yet even he faltered. His strength proved insufficient against Xero's defiance."
Her eyes lowered slightly.
"It was through Destini's severance of his core essence that the Abraxas was sealed..." A pause. "...at the cost of the Archon of Day's own existence."
Destini continued.
"It was the Demiurge who truly created the system that governs all the Prime Realms." Her gaze sharpened. "And now that architecture demands revision to protect against a Death virus."
Her eyes flicked briefly.
"With the Archon of Day's essence restored, we possess the means to correct what once required sacrifice."
Orion exhaled slowly.
"Then the Dead Sea Scrolls spoke truth." His voice lowered. "The Abraxas's return is truly a sign of the end times for us all."
"Nay." Laniakea's response came sharply. "That concern hath perished."
Her lips curved slightly.
"For we now possess the means to forge a Demiurge surpassing even Sophia's flawed creation." Her eyes gleamed. "One wrought upon the very blueprint Omnia devised for the Sonata Syn of Pride."
That's when it clicked for Orion.
Everything.
"Now it makes sense..." he murmured. "Why neither of you seems upset I didn't acquire his core."
His gaze sharpened.
"It was an observation. Data collection."
Destini smiled. "A contingency I deemed inevitable the moment I encountered Xiro."
Her voice carried quiet admiration.
"His Soul Core is an anomaly without a ceiling."
Her eyes glinted.
"Omnia did not merely succeed... She transcended precedent."
Orion's jaw tightened slightly.
"He can be defeated."
Laniakea leaned back into her throne.
"I have ascended unto mine utmost boundary." Her voice dipped. "The source within me, this authority, shall not suffice in the war that approaches."
Her eyes shifted toward Destini briefly.
"She hath shown me the threads." A pause of breath. "The outcomes. The inevitability."
Her gaze returned to Orion. "The Demiurge is no longer optional."
A final breath. "And I shall enact whatsoever is required to preserve mine Paradiso."
Orion bowed his head slightly.
"I stand ready to fulfill the destiny carved before me."
A subtle grin spread across her lips. Her eyes flicked to Destini. A silent command. A silent agreement.
Destini bowed once more. Then turned. Her eyes met Orion's. Focused. Determined.
"Let us return to Gaia. To make you the new Yaldabaoth, we will need to steal back some history from Kairos."
Orion followed. Respectful. Composed. But behind those glasses—
That glow in his eyes? Yeah. That wasn't devotion. That was his hunger. A nigga scheming. The kind that believed he had already won.
And that's what made him dangerous.
Back outside the eastern gates of Eden, right at the edge of that endless, glowing paradise, Orion carried himself differently. His hand adjusted the front of his vest with a smooth pull, fingers flattening the fabric like he was resetting his image. The silver frames of his glasses caught the shifting light of Paradiso as he nudged them back into place, his posture straighter now. More certain.
That meeting? It did something to him. Knowing the Elohim herself saw him as the future—the only future—solidified everything in his mind. That wasn't ambition anymore. That was divine validation from the Most High. Purpose etched into his existence since the moment his Soul Frame first pulsed inside the pleroma.
The Dominion was walking like the universe already belonged to him.
Beside him, Destini lifted her hand.
Her fingers traced a shape in the air, slow and deliberate, and a pentagon-shaped portal unfolded into existence. The edges shimmered in hues of orange and gold, reflecting against the soft transparency of her skirt as it clung to her hips and thighs. The fabric barely held its form, letting the glow of her mana bleed through, outlining every curve and image beneath it.
Her voice slipped out calm and precise.
"Since Project King Solomon is in Madness territory, we will be heading straight to Libra without being picked up by anyone." She glanced at him, a faint smile playing at her lips. "So I should be ok to accompany."
No hesitation. They stepped through. And Heaven vanished behind them. The shift was immediate.
The moment their feet touched the ground, the air changed—sharp, sterile, almost biting at the lungs compared to Paradiso's soft nothingness. The Sanctum of Sacraments greeted them like a surgical blade—clean, controlled, and cold.
The silence in that place wasn't peaceful. The shit was oppressive. The kind that made every small sound feel louder than it should.
Around them, the Blessed Bound worked quietly, their movements mechanical in precision. Hands moved between alchemic mixtures bubbling in glass containers, strange vapors rising in colors that didn't belong in nature. Primitive mechanical equipment clanked and whirred softly, gears turning under mana-infused circuits that were decades—maybe centuries—ahead of anything most of Arcadia had ever seen.
And yet, it still felt wrong. Progress built on something heavenly rotten.
"I didn't expect Archon Destini to be accompanying Sir Orion."
That voice slid through the room like warm venom. Smooth. Dangerous.
Near the entrance stood Mary Magdala.
Blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, catching the artificial light of the Sanctum with a gentle glow. Her posture lowered immediately, dropping to one knee as she bowed her head toward Destini. Respectful. Obedient.
But there was intelligence behind those eyes.
"Project King Solomon has achieved a completion state where we can move to the next stage," she continued, voice steady. "The Demon Core awaits the final transfer, now safe from radiation side effects."
Destini tilted her head slightly, amused.
"Well, hello there, Libra."
Her lips curved.
"Or would you rather I refer to you as Mary in that form?"
Mary didn't lift her gaze.
"Whichever you please, Archon of Fate."
Destini stepped forward, her hips swaying subtly as that barely-there skirt shifted with her movement, brushing against her thighs.
"There is additional data I would like us to look over before we finalize Yaldabaoth's new body."
Her eyes gleamed faintly.
"I have a feeling that this new information will fill in so many of the holes in Yaldabaoth's design."
Orion didn't say a word. He just reached into his inventory space and pulled it out. Luda's hand. Still fresh. Still bleeding faintly. The air around it warped slightly from the lingering magick.
He tossed it. Casual. Like it wasn't one of the most valuable pieces of data in existence right now. Mary caught it clean. No struggle.
No hesitation. Her fingers wrapped around it with practiced ease, her eyes immediately dropping to the back of the hand. That sigil. A single line curling into itself like the number six.
Her pupils began to glow orange.
"The hand of a Prime Celestial..." Her eyes sharpened at the sigil. "...with the [Mark of the Beast]."
She inhaled slightly, feeling it.
"The magick I feel leaking from this is potent." Her lips parted just a bit. "Must have been a powerful monster."
Orion's voice came flat.
"That's from the mortal body of the reborn Archon of Day."
That hit.
Mary's head lifted immediately.
"Are you serious?"
Her grip tightened slightly.
"With this bio-data, Yaldabaoth will be undefeatable."
Destini's interest sharpened.
"I would like to see this new shell."
Mary stood smoothly.
"Of course, Madam."
She turned, gesturing down the corridor.
"Please, you two, this way to Project King Solomon."
They followed.
The sound of heels striking tile echoed through the halls in a steady rhythm, matching the sway of Mary's hips as her pumpkin-hued hair bounced lightly with each step. The glow from overhead mana crystals reflected along her figure, highlighting the subtle movements of her body as she walked.
She kept her composure. Professional. But underneath? Excitement. You could feel it in the way her steps carried just a little more energy. She wanted to show this off.
They passed room after room. Each one worse than the last. Behind glass doors, experiments unfolded in silence—twisted bodies suspended in fluids, magickal constructs stitched together from flesh and energy, failed creations frozen mid-scream. Behind one pane of glass, something with a human ribcage and an unfinished halo hung in suspension, its mouth stretched open in a scream the fluid wouldn't let escape. Flashes of horror. Quick glimpses. Then gone as they kept walking.
Until finally—
They entered. The room opened wide. Circular. Well structured. Very controlled.
Two tables stood at the center, positioned within a massive ritual circle etched into the floor. The outer ring was lined with hymns from Paradiso, glowing faintly as mana flowed through the inscriptions like blood through veins. The lighting crystals above burned at full intensity, flooding the space in white brilliance that reflected harshly off the lead-lined walls. The air was sharper here. Cleaner. Still heavy with that sterile scent. And on those tables were two bodies. Nude. Motionless. One male. One female. Both pale.
Too pale.
Skin smooth, almost artificial in its perfection. No hair. No blemishes. Black fingernails curled slightly at their sides like they were waiting for something to command them.
Destini approached the female first.
Her gaze narrowed.
"It doesn't have her face..." Her voice softened slightly. "But this is unmistakably her mana source."
She looked toward Mary.
"Did you find a suitable core for this new Sophia?"
Mary shook her head.
"Not yet, Madam."
Her tone carried a smudge of frustration.
"Producing a Human Hero with a strong enough core to handle ascended mana is taking longer than expected."
Destini's expression didn't change.
"Even if she does house Jerrica's magick power, she will be considered a failure unless you fix the Demon Core or find a replacement."
Mary nodded.
"Understood, Madam."
Then she added—
"I was hoping to examine the Soul Core of the Devil of Velonica, but he bested my Disciples' raid during the attack on his home."
Destini's eyes flicked slightly.
"He also killed Taurus and blossomed into the Archon of Night." Her voice dropped just a bit. "So, I wouldn't go hoping too much for that core right now."
Mary's lips curved faintly.
"The Grim Reaper…"
She exhaled softly. "So the Devil has become Death himself."
Her gaze sharpened.
"The Queen's war with Velonica will have to cease for now… unless she draws his full anger too soon."
Destini turned slightly, her chest shifting with the motion, the thin straps barely holding everything in place as they strained under her movement.
"The newly crowned king survived his encounter with I and Orion."
Her tone was firm.
"I would suggest getting the Robotnics battle-ready." A pause followed. "Madness is destined to conquer Velonica on the battlefield."
Her eyes locked onto Mary.
"But only if you are using your strongest weapons."
Mary bowed slightly.
"At your behest, Madam."
She turned.
"I shall see to that, after we get Sir Orion taken care of."
She moved to the male body.
Gesturing toward it.
"With the assistance of an old Elf, I was able to complete Yaldabaoth's body in little time."
Her fingers traced along the air above it.
"Using aspects from Sophia's DNA code to fill in missing coding and datons."
Her voice lowered with pride.
"Yaldabaoth should be strong enough to wield the pleroma itself as a weapon."
Destini smiled. Subtle. Satisfied.
Mary straightened.
"Once Orion's spirit powers the Muon Core, the rebirth should begin."
Orion stepped closer.
His gaze ran over the body. Not as it was. But as it would become. He was already redesigning it in his mind—reshaping the image to match the version of himself he believed he deserved to be.
Handsome. Perfect. Untouchable. Absolute.
"Archon Destini..."
His voice came low.
"How long will it take for the soul and the body to synchronize?"
She didn't rush the answer.
"With this much magickal energy, I couldn't say."
A pause.
"Could easily be 500 years or more."
His jaw tightened slightly.
"Such a lengthy time away from the stage."
She nodded.
"Agreed."
Then her eyes sharpened.
"So we will be displacing you somewhere in the timeline of this world."
Her lips curved.
"That should hide you away, so you aren't disturbed before it's time to re-enter existence."
Orion let out a quiet breath.
"Kairos is truly going to be upset when he finds out."
Destini shrugged lightly. Her chest shifted again with the motion, threatening to slip free from the thin restraint holding it together.
"No more than normal."
A faint smirk.
"Besides, he's playing both sides of the field. He lacks a moral high ground to stand on."
Behind them, Mary had already gotten to work. Luda's hand sat beneath a mechanical analyzer, its surface glowing as a holographic screen projected into the air. Symbols, hieroglyphs, data streams—everything poured out in layered waves of information. Her eyes moved fast. Reading. Processing. Understanding.
All of a sudden—
"Praise to the open sky..."
Her voice carried genuine excitement now.
"This is a magnificent amount of information on this sigil."
Her fingers danced through the hologram, manipulating data points with ease. "With this information, we could improve Yaldabaoth's spiritual potential to levels beyond multiple universes."
She leaned closer.
"There are even pieces of data on the Abraxas Code that I've never seen the likes of before."
Her smile widened.
"It's giving me ideas on how to improve so much more of our work."
Destini glanced over.
"So that time they spent as an Axion was beneficial in the long run."
Then she turned back to Orion.
Destini turned toward him with the kind of composure that made every other person in the room feel temporary.
"The transcendence into an Awakened Archon will be hell before it becomes heaven."
Her voice lowered.
"It will be up to your willpower to see you through."
Orion didn't hesitate.
"Libra, let's begin the ritual."
That was it. No doubt. No second thought. No hesitation. He had already chosen.
Reality could feel it. That shift. That moment where paths lock in. Where two forces start moving toward each other with no intention of stopping.
Heaven had made its move.
And from that point on, the future wasn't in anybody's hands anymore.
[End of Chapter]
[End of Masquerade After Hours Arc]
[1] April on Earth.