The forest that began just beyond the clearing where the Void rift had finally collapsed felt quieter than any place Drakar had walked through before, yet the silence was not peaceful nor natural, because it resembled the pause between two thunderclaps — that moment when the air freezes just before another explosion of power — and even the wind that slowly moved between the tall, dark trunks of the trees seemed cautious, as if it feared disturbing something ancient sleeping beneath the soil.
Drakar walked ahead.
His steps were heavy, but steady.
The chains around his arms clinked softly as they brushed against stones and exposed roots rising from the ground, while the runes carved into his blades pulsed with a faint reddish glow, as if the weapons themselves had not yet calmed after the battle with Kaelthar.
Selene walked slightly behind him, holding her staff with both hands, and the silver crystal at its top occasionally released brief flashes of light that spread through the forest in thin waves of magic, probing the air, the ground, and the spaces between the branches of the trees.
She did not trust the silence that followed battles like that.
Finally, she spoke.
"The rift was unstable."
Her voice was quiet, but tense, because even when danger retreats, true mages know that it often only means the threat has changed its form.
Drakar did not turn.
His gaze remained fixed ahead.
"It will return."
Selene sighed softly.
"Yes."
For several moments they walked in silence, and there was something strange about that silence, because each of them was thinking about something different, and yet about the same thing — about what had happened in the clearing, and about the realization that Nyxaroth's words had not been a threat.
They had been a reminder.
The world was already cracking.
And Drakar was part of it.
At last Selene spoke again.
"What you did with the general's rune…"
Her steps slowed slightly.
"Why didn't you absorb it?"
Drakar stopped beside one of the enormous roots of the World Tree that rose from the earth like a stone arch, and he ran his hand slowly across the rough bark, feeling the energy of the tree respond to the runes within his body.
"Because he wanted me to."
Selene tilted her head.
"Nyxaroth?"
"Yes."
Drakar turned toward her.
"If I absorb every rune, I become exactly what he expects."
"And if you destroy them?"
Drakar smiled faintly.
"Then he starts getting nervous."
Selene studied him for several seconds.
Then she said quietly,
"You're playing with a power even the gods do not understand."
"I know."
He began walking again.
The forest grew denser.
Now the roots of the World Tree were everywhere — weaving between the trees, rising from the ground before descending again into the soil, forming natural arches and tunnels through which beams of light fell, creating strange patterns across the earth.
And then Drakar suddenly stopped.
His hand slowly lifted.
"Do you hear that?"
Selene immediately held her breath.
She focused.
And then she heard it.
Not a sound.
A rhythm.
Very faint.
But steady.
As if something enormous was breathing beneath the earth.
Drakar knelt and placed his hand against one of the roots.
It was warm.
And alive.
It is waking, the voice of Zmey whispered inside his mind.
Drakar closed his eyes for a moment.
"What is?"
Something older than the gods.
Selene watched him carefully.
"You feel something?"
He nodded.
"The World Tree."
"What about it?"
Drakar slowly raised his head.
"It's afraid."
Selene frowned.
"A tree cannot feel fear."
"It can."
His hand brushed the bark again.
"When its roots begin to crack."
At that exact moment, the ground trembled.
At first, only slightly.
Then stronger.
Somewhere far away, deep within the forest, a sound echoed — like a massive stone falling into an empty cavern.
Selene raised her staff.
"That's not a rift."
Drakar already knew.
His runes were burning.
But not from the Void.
From something else.
Something older.
Then the trees ahead began to move.
Not because of the wind.
They were parting.
Roots tore free from the ground, pushing aside the soil, and between them a massive figure slowly rose.
It was made of stone, bark, and living roots.
Its eyes burned with green light.
Drakar recognized it immediately.
"The Guardian."
Selene whispered quietly,
"The same one?"
"No."
Drakar's voice was calm.
"Another."
The Guardian stepped forward.
The earth trembled beneath him.
"Bearer of runes…"
His voice was deep, like the earth itself speaking.
"You have returned."
Drakar stood still.
"I never went far."
The Guardian studied him for a long moment.
"You have disturbed the balance."
Selene stepped forward.
"We sealed the rift."
"Temporarily."
The green glow in the creature's eyes intensified.
"The World Tree feels the fractures."
Drakar crossed his arms.
"So do I."
The Guardian tilted his head.
"Then you know what is coming."
Drakar said nothing.
But he knew.
Nyxaroth had not retreated.
He was watching.
The Guardian took another step.
"The pantheons are moving."
Selene turned sharply toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"The gods know."
Drakar tilted his head slightly.
"About me."
The Guardian nodded.
"About you."
"About the runes."
"And about the fact that a mortal has begun killing their servants."
The forest suddenly felt even quieter.
Selene whispered,
"If the pantheons begin hunting…"
Drakar smiled.
"Let them come."
The Guardian stared at him for a long moment.
"You do not understand."
Drakar raised an eyebrow.
"Explain."
The Guardian lifted his hand.
The roots around them began to glow with faint green light.
"The gods do not fear mortals."
He paused.
"But they fear what mortals can become."
Drakar remained silent.
The Guardian continued,
"If they unite…"
Selene finished the sentence.
"A new war of the pantheons will begin."
Drakar laughed quietly.
"They won't unite."
The Guardian answered calmly,
"They already have."
And somewhere far away, above the clouds, in a realm where the golden palaces of Olympus stood beneath an eternal sky, one of the gods slowly raised his head, sensing that something new had begun to move within the fabric of reality.
Not a god.
Not a demon.
But something capable of changing the balance.
And the name that even immortals had begun whispering sounded the same in every pantheon.
Drakar.
Godslayer.
Bearer of dragon blood.
And perhaps…
the future end of the gods.
And in the darkness beyond the worlds, Nyxaroth watched it all and smiled, because every step Drakar took made the game more interesting.
And the best games always end when both sides believe they can still win.