There were circuits in existence that defied logic.
Not because they lacked rules, but because their rules could exist beyond the boundaries of conventional understanding. They could be logical and illogical simultaneously, obeying principles that made perfect sense to their users while appearing impossible to everyone else.
Some circuits controlled natural phenomena. Others governed concepts such as time, space, life, death, causality, and fate. There were even circuits whose true functions remained unknown, their potential concealed behind layers of conditions that their users had yet to discover.
However, among the countless circuits connected to the Great Circuit, a handful stood apart. Their power was so extraordinary that careless use could threaten the very foundations of existence. Two of the most remarkable examples were the Soul Circuit and the Pen of Creation.
Both could alter reality, but they approached that ability from fundamentally different directions. The Soul Circuit was the authority of imagination, possibility, and the will to make something real. The Pen of Creation was the authority to write reality into existence and their current users were Arata Kurogane and Sirius Augustus Vos. The Soul Circuit had never been an ordinary power.
Its fundamental principle was deceptively simple: anything its user could imagine could potentially become reality, provided the imagined concept could be understood and made sense of within the user's own reasoning.
That condition was important.
Imagination without understanding could produce an incomplete result. A concept without a coherent foundation could collapse under its own contradictions. The Soul Circuit did not merely reward someone for wishing hard enough. It allowed its user to turn thought into possibility, then possibility into reality. Yet even that explanation barely scratched the surface.
The Soul Circuit could reach into the Great Circuit and select from its infinite possibilities, determining which possibilities would become real. If none of the existing possibilities suited its user, it could create a new one. It could establish a future that had never existed. It could make an impossible outcome possible.
And, under the right circumstances, it could rewrite the very structure of existence itself. Arata had demonstrated this repeatedly.
During his battles, he had destroyed celestial bodies on a scale that could threaten entire solar systems, only to restore them afterward as though the destruction had never occurred. He had brought time to a halt, manipulated space as if it were a physical object, and spoken words that reality itself obeyed.
He had even revived an entire race that had been dead for years. The Dragon Race, once lost to history, had returned under the rule of Lord Zenith, a descendant of the Dragon God. For Arata, the restoration had been a matter of applying his will to a possibility that he understood.
For everyone else, it was a miracle that should not have been possible but the Soul Circuit possessed another, more unsettling aspect. It did not merely allow Arata to change what happened within existence. It gave him the potential to change the framework through which existence was defined.
The laws governing the universe, the relationships between cause and effect, and the boundaries separating one possibility from another could all become subjects of his imagination. Even the narrative of his own existence was not necessarily beyond his reach.
Arata could, in principle, write his own story. He could change the direction of its events, reject the outcomes imposed upon him, or even step outside the narrative altogether, becoming immune to its influence if he could properly conceptualize and establish that possibility.
He was not simply a character who moved through the cycles of existence.
He was the beginning and the end of those cycles. That was why the brief moment when he had genuinely considered destroying Kitakim had shaken every living being across existence. It had not been an ordinary display of killing intent.
His intention had carried the possibility of an ending so absolute that every living thing had felt, for an instant, as though existence itself had already concluded. The future had presented itself. Arata had rejected it and reality had continued.
The distinction was crucial. His power did not mean that every passing thought automatically became true, nor did it mean that he could ignore the need to understand what he was establishing. Rather, his authority over possibilities allowed him to choose, create, and impose outcomes that others could scarcely comprehend.
The greater the concept, the more important his understanding of it became. That was what made the Soul Circuit so dangerous.
Its limits were not easily measured by strength, energy, or conventional laws. Its greatest restrictions were tied to the user's ability to conceptualize what they wanted and establish it through their own authority.
And Arata was still learning.
He had awakened the Soul Circuit, but he had not yet reached the point where he could honestly claim to have mastered everything it represented. The Great Circuit remained an unanswered question.
For someone like Arata, that alone was reason enough to keep moving.
The Pen of Creation followed a similar principle, but its method was different. Where the Soul Circuit could manifest possibilities through imagination and impose its user's will upon reality, the Pen of Creation treated reality as something that could be written.
Its user did not necessarily need to reconstruct every underlying mechanism of an event. Instead, the circuit allowed the user to write a statement into existence, provided the statement fell within the authority of the Pen of Creation.
If the writing took effect, reality would conform to what had been written. Sirius Augustus Vos was the current wielder of that authority. Her title was the Overlord.
She viewed reality as a script, a vast composition whose events, conditions, and outcomes could be rewritten through her command. To her, the world was not merely a collection of things that existed independently of her.
It was something that could be edited. Her encounter with Kitakim had demonstrated the terrifying simplicity of that power. She had raised her index finger, written a single word in the air…Death.
And Kitakim, a powerful wielder of the Constellation Circuit who had fought Arata across the heavens, had been erased in a flash of white light. No elaborate technique had been necessary. No prolonged exchange of attacks had followed. Sirius had written the outcome, and her circuit had imposed it upon reality.
Yet the apparent simplicity of the act did not mean that the Pen of Creation was without rules. The scope and consequences of what its user wrote depended upon the authority of the circuit itself and the nature of the statement being established.
After all, writing that something should happen and possessing the power to make it happen were not necessarily the same thing. The Pen of Creation bridged that gap and that was what made Sirius dangerous.
The Soul Circuit and the Pen of Creation were not identical, despite the connection that seemed to exist between their users. One worked through imagination, possibility, and the authority to establish reality. The other expressed its authority through writing, treating existence as a script that could be revised.
One could imagine a new page into existence. The other could write directly upon the page and somewhere beyond the boundaries of the known multiverse, the reasons those two authorities had become connected remained a mystery.
For now, Arata had no intention of accepting an unexplained connection as an answer. He wanted to know why and when Arata Kurogane wanted to know something, he rarely stopped at the first explanation offered to him.
Meanwhile in Norn - The northern city of Norn rested beneath a peaceful night sky.
Its streets were quieter than usual, with the last few merchants closing their shops and residents returning to their homes. Lamps illuminated the roads, and the cool northern breeze carried the faint scent of wood smoke through the neighborhoods.
At the end of one residential street stood a modest house. Kaelen stopped before its entrance. For a moment, he simply stared at the door.
He had been away for longer than he wanted to admit. What had begun as a series of battles and unexpected encounters had eventually drawn him into a conflict that threatened an entire world. He had witnessed things that would have sounded ridiculous had anyone described them to him beforehand.
And now he was standing outside his childhood home, wondering how he was supposed to explain any of it. Jessica stood beside him, watching his expression.
"Are you going to open the door, or are we going to stand here all night?"
Kaelen glanced at her.
"I'm thinking."
"That's concerning."
"Very funny." He took a breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. "I'm home!" His voice carried through the house.
A man sitting on the couch turned toward the entrance. Tavren, Kaelen's father, had been resting with one arm draped over the back of the couch. Upon seeing his son, his expression shifted from surprise to amusement. Then he smiled. "You still remember how to return home?" Kaelen's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Would you believe me if I said I was caught up in a war, Dad?" Tavren stared at him. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Tavren let out a short laugh. "A war? Is that what we're calling it now?"
Before Kaelen could answer, footsteps sounded from the staircase. Selene had apparently just awakened from a deep sleep. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she was still wearing the comfortable clothes she had gone to bed in. She descended the remaining steps, rubbing her eyes.
"Who was shouting—" Her voice stopped. She saw Kaelen. The hand she had raised toward her face slowly fell to her side.
"Kaelen?" He turned toward her.
"Mom." Selene stared at him as though she were afraid that looking away would make him disappear. Then tears began running down her cheeks.
"Kaelen!"
She hurried forward and threw her arms around him.
Kaelen barely had time to brace himself before his mother embraced him tightly. Her hands clutched the back of his clothes, and she pressed her face against his shoulder. For all the battles he had fought, all the danger he had faced, and all the strength he had gained, the moment left him utterly helpless.
"Mom, I'm here," he murmured.
Selene held him even tighter.
"You were gone for so long."
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't come home."
"I know."
"I kept wondering when you would return."
Kaelen closed his eyes.
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry."
He had no excuse that would make her worry disappear. He could explain the circumstances, the enemies, and the reasons he had been unable to return, but none of those things would change the fact that she had spent countless nights wondering whether she would ever see him again.
So he did not try to explain. He simply held her. It was then that Selene noticed the young woman standing just inside the doorway.
Jessica had stepped into the house quietly, allowing the reunion to unfold without interruption. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, unsure whether to introduce herself or continue waiting. Tavren followed his wife's gaze. His eyebrows rose.
Selene slowly released Kaelen, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. Then she looked between her son and Jessica. Her eyes widened. "Wait a minute." Kaelen stiffened. Jessica blinked. Selene pointed gently toward the young woman.
"Is this my daughter-in-law?"
"Mom!" Kaelen's protest came far too late. Selene crossed the remaining distance and embraced Jessica before either of them could say anything else. "Oh, come here, dear!" Jessica froze.
She had been prepared for questions. She had expected to meet Kaelen's parents, introduce herself properly, and endure whatever awkward conversation followed. She had not expected to be hugged by a woman who looked at her with such immediate warmth. For a moment, Jessica did not know what to do with her hands. Then, slowly, she returned the embrace.
Selene held her affectionately, still wiping away the occasional tear. "You must have been through so much together," she said. "Thank you for being with my son." Jessica's expression softened. She could not remember the last time she had felt this kind of warmth from a motherly figure. The memory was so distant that she could barely reach it.
For most of her life, she had learned to stand on her own, to endure difficult circumstances without expecting anyone to reach out and comfort her. She had grown accustomed to being the person who kept moving, even when she was tired or afraid.
But Selene was not asking her to be strong. She was simply welcoming her. Jessica lowered her head slightly and remained in the embrace a little longer than she had intended.
"Thank you," she whispered. Selene pulled back enough to look at her face. "There's no need to thank me. You're welcome here." Kaelen watched the two of them, his expression caught between embarrassment and relief.
Tavren, meanwhile, had settled back against the couch, observing the scene with a knowing smile. His son had returned home and apparently, he had brought someone important with him. Selene finally released Jessica and wiped her cheeks again.
"All right. Both of you, go upstairs and take a shower. I'll prepare dinner."
"Mom, we already ate," Kaelen replied.
"Then you can eat again."
"But—"
"Kaelen." He immediately fell silent.
Jessica covered her mouth, suppressing a laugh. Selene pointed toward the staircase. "Upstairs. Both of you." Kaelen sighed in defeat. "Yes, Mom." He took Jessica's hand, and the two headed upstairs.
Just before reaching the landing, Kaelen glanced back. Selene was watching them with a smile. For the first time since he had returned, the weight he had carried seemed to ease. He turned toward Jessica. "Sorry about that." She raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"My mother." Jessica looked at him for a moment before smiling. "She's wonderful." Kaelen's expression softened. "Yeah. She is." They continued upstairs. Behind them, the sound of Selene moving around the kitchen soon filled the house.
For Kaelen, that familiar sound was more comforting than he could explain. He was home and for tonight, that was enough. Downstairs, Tavren remained seated until he heard the upstairs door close. Then he looked toward his wife.
Selene had begun preparing the ingredients for dinner, but her movements were unsteady. She wiped at her cheeks once more, only for fresh tears to gather almost immediately. Tavren rose from the couch. "Dear..." Selene shook her head, trying to compose herself.
"I'm fine." He approached her. "Is this about the deep sleep humanity experienced?" Her hands stopped moving. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of the clock. Then Selene lowered her gaze.
"I was asleep," she said softly. "But I could still see it." Tavren drew closer. "The war?" She nodded. "My body was resting, but my Time Circuit was still functioning. Even though that period was lost to ordinary time, I could see fragments of what was happening."
Her voice trembled. "I saw the destruction. I saw the stars disappear. I saw the planet break apart." She swallowed. "And I felt something else." Tavren looked down at her. "What was it?" Selene slowly turned toward him. "An ending."
He did not interrupt. "At one point, I felt as though everything was about to cease existing. Not just humanity. Not just this planet. Everything." Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. "It was as if the future itself had reached its conclusion."
Tavren's expression grew serious. "Was it that bad?" Selene looked toward the window. "If that man had truly destroyed the First Circuit Being without restraint, everything would have ended."
She paused, remembering the dreadful sensation that had passed through her even while her body remained asleep. "The only reason everyone is alive is because he rejected that future." Tavren was silent for a long moment.
He had heard stories about the Soul Circuit. He knew Arata possessed a power that defied ordinary understanding, and he had seen enough evidence to accept that the man was far beyond the level of conventional circuit users.
But hearing Selene describe what she had experienced made the implications far more difficult to ignore. This was not simply a matter of a powerful individual winning a battle.
It was a matter of existence itself having come dangerously close to an outcome from which nothing could return. Tavren looked out through the window at the night sky. The stars shone peacefully above Norn.
The world seemed ordinary. People were sleeping in their homes. Families were preparing for the following day. Somewhere in the distance, a carriage rolled along a quiet road. None of them knew how close everything had come to an absolute ending.
"So that's how it is," Tavren murmured. He turned back toward his wife and opened his arms. Selene stepped into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. Tavren held her gently. "You don't have to carry that alone." She closed her eyes.
"I know."
"Then let yourself rest." Selene took a slow breath, allowing the familiar warmth of his embrace to settle her thoughts. For a while, they remained there without speaking. Then Tavren kissed the top of her head.
"Let's finish dinner before our son comes downstairs and starts complaining." A small laugh escaped her. "Kaelen doesn't complain that much." Tavren looked at her. Selene considered it. "...All right. Sometimes." He smiled and slowly, the tension left her shoulders.
Arkion — Before the Morning Comes
The apartment was quiet. Moonlight entered through the curtains, casting pale patterns across the bedroom. The distant sounds of Arkion had faded, leaving only the occasional movement of the night breeze outside. Alzwalt lay on the bed, his golden hair spread across the pillow.
Beside him, Britanya was turned toward him, studying his face. She had been unusually quiet since their return. Alzwalt eventually noticed. "What is it?" Britanya did not answer immediately. Instead, she looked into his golden eyes.
She had spent so much time worrying about him that seeing him here, alive and able to remain beside her without threatening the world around them, felt almost unreal. Yet she knew it could not last forever. Alzwalt was now the God of Heaven.
His responsibilities were no longer limited to the lower dimensions, and there would come a time when he would have to return to his dominion. Heaven could not be abandoned indefinitely, and Supreme Light was not a power that could simply be forgotten. Eventually, he would have to leave. Britanya understood that.
Understanding it did not make the thought any easier. "At some point," she murmured, "you'll have to return to Heaven." Alzwalt's expression softened. "Yes." She looked away briefly. "So, before you leave..." Her words trailed off.
Alzwalt reached toward her, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Britanya." She looked back at him. He seemed to understand what she could not quite bring herself to say. "I'm here now." For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.
Alzwalt returned the kiss, drawing her closer as the distance between them disappeared. Britanya rested one hand against his shoulder, her earlier irritation giving way to the affection she had been holding back.
When she finally pulled away, she remained close enough to feel his breath. "Don't make me wait too long next time," she whispered. Alzwalt rested his forehead against hers.
"I won't." She searched his eyes, looking for any sign that he was making a promise he could not keep. Then she kissed him again. The room fell quiet as they held each other beneath the moonlight, grateful for the time they had together before duty called him back to Heaven.
Outside, the stars continued their silent journey.
And for that night, neither of them needed to think about the dimensions beyond their window. Beneath the Same Stars Far from Arkion, beneath a broad tree whose branches swayed gently in the night breeze, Denma and Faith sat together.
The surrounding field was peaceful, with tall grass moving softly around them. The moon shone through the leaves, and the stars appeared between the branches overhead. Faith rested her head on Denma's shoulder. Neither spoke for a while.
They had spent so much time healing wounds, preparing for danger, and wondering whether the next battle would be their last that the simple act of sitting together felt strangely unfamiliar. Faith watched the stars. "Do you think things will be peaceful now?" she asked. Denma considered the question.
"For a while, perhaps." She lifted her head slightly.
"That doesn't sound very reassuring."
"I'm trying to be honest." Faith smiled and settled against his shoulder again.
"I know."
Denma glanced down at her. He had never been particularly skilled at finding the right words in moments like this. He could analyze an opponent, plan around an enemy's abilities, and remain composed under pressure, but offering comfort was a different matter.
So he simply stayed beside her. After a while, Faith reached for his hand. He let her take it. The two remained beneath the tree, watching the stars and enjoying the quiet. For once, there was nothing they needed to fight.
In Karveth, Kaelven had already fallen asleep.
His journey to the Kurogami organization had left him exhausted, and the quiet of his room had been enough to convince him that every other concern could wait until morning. Kimotsu was sleeping in another room.
The two had spent part of the evening discussing the organization and the people who served beneath John Merciless. There had been plenty to talk about, but fatigue had eventually won. Now the building rested beneath the night sky, its inhabitants scattered throughout their quarters. Even an organization as formidable as Kurogami required sleep.
In Valhalla, Gene slept inside the headquarters of the Hero Association.
The association had changed considerably since he and the others had taken control from June Augustus and Hades a few months earlier. Its operations had been reorganized, its leadership established, and its members given new responsibilities.
There was still work to be done. There would always be work to be done but Gene had no intention of spending the entire night thinking about it. He slept soundly, leaving tomorrow's problems for tomorrow.
In Amorak, the city had settled into its nighttime rhythm. John Merciless had returned home with Tessandra, and the two had withdrawn to their bedroom after the long day.
Tessandra was now asleep beneath the sheets, her silver hair spread across the pillow. The room was dim, illuminated by a single lamp near the bedside. John stood beside the bed, straightening his shirt.
For once, there was no battlefield waiting for him, no enemy demanding his attention, and no immediate order that required him to move. He looked down at Tessandra and a quiet smile touched his face.
Their evening had belonged to them alone, away from the responsibilities of Kurogami and the expectations that followed his name. They had shared a private moment of closeness, and now she slept peacefully, exhausted from the day.
John adjusted the collar of his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently moved a strand of silver hair away from Tessandra's face. She stirred faintly but did not wake.
"Sleep well," he murmured.
For several seconds, he remained beside her.
Then he rose, dimmed the lamp, and returned to the bedside once more to make sure she was comfortable. The room fell into darkness. Outside, Amorak's streets were quiet, and the stars shone above the rooftops.
Across Kael'Ar, the people who had fought through the war were finally returning to ordinary life. Some were sleeping, some talking and some were beginning to imagine a future that no longer revolved around survival.
And in Arkion at hoshigawa , Arata Kurogane sat in his restaurant with Sirius Augustus Vos, unaware that the faint shimmer that had passed across his window was the first indication that their meeting had attracted attention from somewhere beyond the multiverse.
The world had been restored, the war was over but the questions surrounding the Great Circuit had only just begun.