The silence didn't last long.
It couldn't.
Because even silence feared what came next.
Kaleus moved first.
One step.
The Heart of the Dreaming—where reality dies.
A place outside time, forged by Knull's will.
Darkness wasn't a description here.
It was truth.
The sky above was gone—replaced with a swirling dome of hollow stars that bled inward.
And beneath them—Kaleus and Knull clashed like cosmic titans.
Their auras didn't ripple.
They obliterated.
Each strike from Kaleus's cursed blade tore chunks out of reality, leaving afterimages that screamed.
Each strike from Knull's claws reshaped existence—what was solid became liquid, what was time became ash.
"RRRAAHHH!!" Kaleus roared, lunging forward.
He vanished.
A pulse.
He reappeared behind Knull in a flash, blade already mid-swing.
CLANG!
Knull blocked it with a single hand, a wall of void-hard tendrils rising like iron vines.
"You're fast…" Knull hissed, grin widening, "...for a dying human."
Kaleus didn't answer.
He spun—his blade leaving a spiraling eclipse behind him—and drove a knee into Knull's ribs.
BOOM!!!
The impact ruptured the ground. Massive chasms split open in the dreamscape, voidfire erupting like geysers.
Knull flew back—but caught himself midair.
No breathing.
No damage.
He floated, wings spread like a judgment.
"You're not bad," Knull said. "But you're fighting me in my throne."
He raised his hand.
The sky pulsed.
Then everything went dark.
DOMAIN: THE NULL CROWN
A black sigil opened beneath Kaleus's feet. The symbol writhed, alive—twisting with runes written in dead languages.
From every direction—eyes opened.
Mouths. Hands. Voices whispering in tongues.
All screaming nothing.
Kaleus's body shuddered as gravity increased a hundredfold.
His bones cracked.
His lungs compressed.
His aura—dimmed.
Knull hovered above, arms out, laughing.
"This is the end, human. My dominion. My law."
"Welcome to the Null Crown."
He snapped his fingers.
And everything attacked.
Black spears rained from the sky, each one the size of a cathedral.
Void serpents coiled from beneath the ground, snapping their jaws.
Spectral blades sliced in from every angle—dozens per second.
It was a storm of extinction.
But Kaleus…
Didn't break.
He closed his eyes.
And muttered something...
Sovereign Eclipse Style – Form 3: Black Star Drowning
SLASH.
In one motion—he cut through all of it.
Every spear. Every serpent. Every illusion.
Gone.
The cursed black blade spun like a cyclone in his hand, carving a path of pure silence.
Kaleus moved like a conductor of destruction—elegant, brutal, merciless.
"Impossible," Knull growled.
Kaleus's feet lifted from the ground—he hovered now, arms wide.
His eclipses spun faster behind him, forming a halo of whirling night.
And then—he whispered the name of his final move.
Nether King • Crown of Silence
Kaleus extended his hand. The cursed blade pulsed.
Behind him, the six eclipses aligned—becoming a winged circle of divine annihilation.
From the blade's core, a ring of black lightning surged outward—cracking time and warping distance.
Kaleus vanished.
Then reappeared—
—inside Knull's guard.
He stabbed.
DEEP.
Straight through Knull's chest.
The blade shrieked as it devoured everything in its path—tearing through shadow, through godflesh, through domains.
Knull screamed.
His wings exploded outward. The dreamspace shook violently.
Black fire erupted across.
Chunks of the Null Crown fell like shattered crystal, dissolving before they hit the ground.
"YOU—!!" Knull coughed, ichor spilling from his mouth. "THAT BLADE—WHAT ARE YOU!?"
Kaleus's voice came cold.
Low.
Deadly.
"Something your abyss never accounted for."
Knull staggered back, chest burning, arms shaking.
For the first time in eternity…
He was afraid.
And Kaleus wasn't done.
SEQUENCE: Dominion Execution • Veil Splitter
With a sharp breath, Kaleus lifted the sword high.
The six eclipses behind him spun into a vertical line—a massive sigil of judgment.
He slashed downward.
A single stroke.
But it split the world.
From Knull's feet to the upper sky, the cut screamed upward, forming a rift of annihilation that peeled open the Heart of the Dreaming.
Knull roared.
His body fragmented—his true form unraveling.
He screamed something ancient and foul—then vanished in a pulse of inverted starlight.
Silence returned.
The Heart trembled.
And Kaleus… lowered his blade.
Blood ran down his fingers.
His breath heavy.
But his eyes never closed.
---
The Heart of the Dreaming cracked.
Not with a scream, not with chaos—
—but with a sigh.
A heavy, slow exhale that carried with it the weight of a god's fall.
The infinite dark shattered like glass, fragments dissolving into dust. Knull's domain folded inward, collapsing under its own weight, until it vanished completely.
Silence.
Then—
The sky returned.
Real sky.
With stars. With clouds.
With a silver moon gleaming high above.
The breeze swept through like it had been holding its breath—cool, crisp, and soft against Kaleus's torn armor. Trees bent gently once more. The world exhaled with him.
Kaleus floated just above the now-ruined courtyard, still clutching the unconscious body of Vorun in his arms.
No longer possessed.
Just… his son.
Kaleus stared at the boy.
Bruised. Pale. But alive.
"…You're free now," he whispered.
Then, with one final flare of his aura, he descended, boots crunching against fractured stone.
As his cursed blade dissolved into mist and his god-slayer form faded, Kaleus returned to his normal self—cloaked in simple armor.
He gently laid Vorun down.
Checked his pulse. Brushed strands of wild, raven-black hair from his son's face.
Then brought two fingers to his temple.
"Draven," he said quietly, voice still rough from battle, "It's over. Everything is under control."
---
Draven froze.
His eyes widened for just a second—before nodding, slow and silent, as if Kaleus were standing right in front of him.
The air was still thick with tension.
All around him, the others waited—siblings, guards, staff—everyone listening for an update.
Tharek took a step forward. "Was that… Father?"
"Did he win?" Lyra asked sharply.
Even the youngest sibling, Mareth, clenched his fists tight, unable to hide the worry on his face.
Draven's voice came calm. Centered.
"Yeah."
He looked at them all.
"Father won. Everything's under control."
For a second—just one heartbeat—there was silence.
Then—explosion.
Cheers. Relief. Laughter. Staff collapsed to their knees in joy, hugging each other. Guards sheathed their weapons. Servants sobbed openly. The air practically shook with raw, unfiltered gratitude.
Vorun's wife, Selira, covered her mouth—tears welling in her eyes. Her knees gave out, but Draven was already there, catching her gently.
"He's alright," Draven assured her softly.
"You'll see him soon."
Selira broke. Quiet sobs against Draven's shoulder, her voice muffled. "Thank the stars… thank the stars…"
---
Moments Later
A silver-blue rune pulsed beneath their feet.
The dimensional matrix engaged.
Flash.
In a blink, Draven, Lyra, Tharek, Mareth, Selira, and one more sibling—Kaerin, the fifth-born—reappeared inside the estate courtyard, right where Kaleus now sat beside his son.
The others—guards, maids, had been sent to satellite estates for safety.
But the core…
The family…
Was here.
And when Selira's eyes locked on Vorun's resting form—
She ran.
Fell to her knees beside him. Cradled his face with trembling hands.
"Vorun… my love…"
Kaleus stood back, arms crossed.
Silent.
Watching.
Letting her have the moment he once denied his son.
Draven walked beside him, eyes scanning the aftermath of the battle—the scorched stone, the broken marble, the air still crackling with leftover void energy.
"Is it truly over?" he asked.
Kaleus didn't answer right away.
He looked to the sky. To the stars that had returned.
And then—
"…For now."
The courtyard remained cracked, fractured from the collision of divine wills.
But silence had returned.
Selira clung to Vorun's sleeping form, whispering softly against his cheek.
The siblings stood nearby—wary, watching.
And Kaleus… simply stood with arms folded, gaze distant, face unreadable.
Then—
"What the do you mean by 'for now'?!"
The voice cut through the night like a blade.
Everyone turned, stunned.
It was Draven.
Usually silent. Always composed.
But now—his hands were clenched. His eyes weren't calm. They burned.
Kaleus blinked once, surprised—but didn't answer.
Draven stepped forward, shoulders tense.
"You knew, didn't you?" His voice cracked, fury pushing past years of discipline. "That thing—that monster—wasn't just feeding off him. It wasn't an invader."
He jabbed a finger toward Vorun's unconscious body.
"It was invited."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The wind itself froze, unsure of whose rage it should fear more.
Draven's voice dropped. "You understood exactly what he meant… when he smiled."
Kaleus exhaled, long and slow.
Then—smirked.
That same tired, almost amused expression.
"We'll talk about it," he said casually, brushing dust from his shoulder.
"After the festival."
Draven's jaw clenched. "You're serious."
Kaleus didn't answer.
He stretched his arms behind his back, bones popping.
Then gave a long, theatrical yawn.
"Been a long day. Need sleep."
He looked up at the sky, hands behind his head.
Then, in the next second—
He vanished.
No flash.
No aura surge.
Just a flicker—and gone.
Silence again.
Not the peaceful kind.
The stunned, tight kind—like the air had been sucked out of the world.
The siblings stared where their father had stood.
Draven's mouth parted slightly, breath stuck in his throat.
Even Selira, still kneeling beside Vorun, turned her head slowly, confusion written across her tear-lined face.
Mareth finally whispered, "What… was that?"
Tharek's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't Father's usual tone."
Lyra crossed her arms tightly, her voice low. "Something's wrong."
Draven didn't move.
His fists trembled at his sides.
He turned his gaze back to Vorun—still unconscious, face peaceful.
"…And now I don't know which of them I should be more worried about."