The world beyond time began to crack.
Nyreth, the Trickstar, the one who once played with destinies like marionette strings, had returned to his dominion. A place that transcends the Lower Expansion — Here, the Echoing Palace of Origins shimmered once more, rebuilt from forgotten truth. The pillars of false history aligned again beneath his command.
His laughter echoed across the collapsing dimensions, reverberating with satisfaction.
At last, his True Elder God form returned—not the fragmented trickster, but the 4th Step Ascendant, a being who transcended gods and reshaped fate itself.
The threads of time circled him like obedient serpents. Space folded to his whims. His shadow distorted not downward, but upward—as if trying to climb beyond creation itself.
"This… This is what I was. What I am," Nyreth whispered to himself, as the golden spiral of his crown burned with ancient power.
But just as he placed his hand upon his throne to solidify his dominion over Lower Expansion—
The fabric of reality screamed.
A rift tore open across the Echoing Palace. The dimensions fractured, and light that had no source burst through like divine wrath.
From the infinite break, a silhouette emerged.
Slowly. Calmly. Step by step.
Jin.
His body carried the marks of death and rebirth. His chest once shattered was now inscribed with Zhel-vorah's divine sigil, glowing with the warmth of legacy. His blind eye now shimmered with silver—the eye of sacrifice. Behind him trailed not shadow, but echoes of the Thrones fused into his essence.
Nyreth's eyes widened for a moment finally he smiled. "You…Jin Luneblood _ The Monster of Devinity, Coward of Today, The Myth, Ending Visionary, The Crown Prince. Thanks for your help and support."
But Jin said nothing at first. He stepped forward onto the foundation of Nyreth's restored realm. And with each step, reality corrected itself around him. The royal cosmologies, once held hostage by Nyreth's manipulation, rebalanced.
Thunder surged across the starless heavens.
Then they clashed.
And the world split again.
Their battle was not a duel. It was a rewriting of the laws. Every sword stroke caused Vast Expansion to blink. Every movement warped the plane beneath. Their energy drowned entire timelines—civilizations rising and falling in a blink between strikes.
Nyreth snarled as he summoned his Writ of Paradox, distorting Jin's probability.
But Jin countered with a calm stare. His wings ignited—white on one side, black on the other.
"I am not part of your story, Nyreth," Jin said. "I am the ending you tried to erase."
Nyreth was enjoying this battle.
"Ahhh __You really awesome Jin. I am satisfied. But there is thing you don't know, no one can defie their endings."
Jin laughed. "Yes I know. But I can't defie ending l. But I will change or create ending, Nyreth The Tickstar, Coward of history, The Cheater."
Nyreth launched his attack but Jin raised his hand and Nullified the attack.
As the battle between Jin and Nyreth intensified, space itself rippled and trembled beneath their blows. The two clashed beyond dimensions—wounds tearing open across timelines, the River of Fate fracturing like broken crystal.
Nyreth, the 4th Step True Elder God, had regained his full power. He stood at the peak of what most beings believed to be the limit. And yet, in this battle, something was wrong.
He couldn't overpower Jin.
Nyreth's voice cracked with disbelief.
"I am a 4th Step True Elder God! Why—why can't I bend him?!"
Then, behind Jin—bathed in the celestial radiance of the Throne's Light—two presences appeared.
A boy and a girl. Their forms familiar… yet impossible.
Nyreth's pupils dilated.
"No… those children—those fragments... they were his..."
Jin's children—Daemon and Eirlys—appeared behind him like ghostly silhouettes born from eternity. Slowly, silently, they began to transform.
Daemon's silhouette burned with chaotic flames, his form growing darker and fiercer, until wings made of collapsing universes unfurled behind him. His eyes bled wrath and compassion. A demonic god—but noble.
Eirlys' form radiated silver-blue serenity, her essence blooming like a lotus of stars. Time slowed around her. Dimensions bowed. She became a goddess of stillness and eternity.
And then—together—they merged into the light within Jin.
Nyreth took a step back.
"Impossible… That… that's Asura… and Nirvana… they are the one who achieved Sacred Tomb. But why are they here?"
The weight of Jin's being exploded outward. His core now glowed with the inheritance of all that he had loved, lost, and bled for.
Daemon's fury.
Eirlys' serenity.
Steve's resolve.
Eleanor's final light.
Zhel-vorah's sacrifice.
His friends' friendship
His parents' love
And the six thrones that were supposed to vanish—now etched into the fragments of Jin's soul. They hadn't disappeared; they had fused with him, becoming part of his divine structure.
Even the echoes of Bellon, Todra, Eian, Kong, Basilisk, Vionka, Ainez, and the Shadow Army's unwavering loyalty—they all shaped the essence of the being now standing before Nyreth.
He was no longer Jin Luneblood alone.
He was the culmination of legacy, pain, choice, and love across multiple timelines and realities.
They had chosen him.
A divine silence fell.
Nyreth, eyes wide, voice trembling, whispered as his knees touched the ground:
"The Fifth Step…The Supreme God Emperor… Sacred Tomb…"
Jin opened his eyes—his aura reshaping the cosmos.
The true battle had only just begun.
True Elder God Classification:
1. 1st Step: They are considered the weakest all of them.
2. 2nd Step: They can change and Alter Myth, History.
3. 3rd Step: Transcendens 1st Step and 2nd Step.
4. 4th Step: Transcendens all of them. They can make anything by their Imagination.
5. 5th Step – The Sacred Tomb:
Only legends dared whisper its name. In this state a True Elder God views the steps below as mere brushstrokes on a canvas, each world a fleeting stroke in their grand design. To them, existence is a storybook, and they are both storyteller and painter—able to erase realities like sentences and rewrite them as effortlessly as breathing. No law binds them, for they do not walk within the tale...
They narrate it.
And Nyreth, for the first time, feared something other than boredom.
The Trickstar bared his fangs.
"You stole that power!"
Jin finally spoke.
"No. They gave it to me."
And with that, his sword resonated.
The merged weapon— Dragon Ragnar, Asua Blade—sang with celestial vibration. It hummed with ancient fury and untold memories. His strikes no longer required movement; they manifested as intentions in the air, slicing reality.
Nyreth screamed and conjured the Axis of Rewrite, forcing causality to reverse. But even that broke against Jin's will.
He was not resisting Nyreth's power.
He was ignoring it.
"Even in your home, even with your truth, you cannot defeat me," Jin said. "Because I no longer walk on this board. I became the player."
The sky behind Nyreth blackened.
Then—
Bellon emerged, roaring from the cracks of Jin's shadow. The knight of primeval death—slayer of gods. Nyreth raised his hand, summoning his two giant serpents in return.
But Vionka burned them in one breath.
Jin raised his hand slowly.
His voice carried no threat.
"You tried to be the writer of my tale, Nyreth. But you forgot something vital…"
He looked toward the distant portal that once led to the Throne Axis.
"A writer only controls the story until the protagonist understands the pen."
Then, with quiet rage, Jin released his will.
The fusion of Thrones pulsed.
The sword glowed.
The final clash ignited.
Light and shadow collided. Time ruptured again. And in that moment—
The Echoing Palace trembled.
Nyreth's control broke.
He collapsed, coughing shards of divine blood.
Jin stood tall.
But his expression carried no hate.
"I don't seek vengeance," Jin said. "Only silence from your chaos."
Nyreth closed his eyes, whispering.
"…You really became something beyond me."
Then he laughed—madly, freely—before fading into the void.
Time slowed. And in that stillness, as everything around him blurred, he saw her.
Eleanor.
Bathed in light. Just as he remembered.
A memory surfaced—clearer than all the battles, sharper than all the power he'd ever gained. The day they met. The smile she gave when he was broken. The quiet strength she lent him when the world turned cold.
His voice, cracked and trembling, whispered into the void:
"Eleanor…"
"Do you remember… when we met? You stood beside me when I was nothing. When I lost my sister… when I could barely breathe… you were there. You saw my pain. You didn't flinch."
He closed his eyes, as if holding the memory between breaths.
"I never wanted power. I never wanted to conquer timelines or burn worlds. I just wanted… to be happy. With you."
His hands curled into the dust. Blood dripped between his fingers.
"You were the only one who saw me—not as a tyrant, not as a coward… but as a boy shattered by loss. You were my peace. But you…"
He looked up. Eyes glistening.
"…You never chose me."
"When our paths divided, you didn't turn around. Not once. You walked toward him. Toward Jin."
"But I—I loved you. I still love you."
His voice broke into a whisper.
"Maybe I became a monster. Maybe I chased power to silence the mockery, to bring back a sister long dead, to be more than a broken boy. Maybe the world will remember me as a tyrant. That's fine."
"But in the end, all I ever wanted was a simple thing."
"To be happy… with you."
He smiled, not with bitterness, but with release.
"If it's him you choose, not me… then it doesn't matter anymore. Because real love doesn't ask to be chosen. It simply gives."
His final breath was soft, like a confession to eternity:
"I love you, Eleanor."
"Always."
And then the light consumed him.