The hall of the Ancients hummed with a tense stillness, its towering obsidian walls carved with symbols from realms older than time. The air shimmered with power, and each breath drawn inside felt like inhaling destiny itself.
Subhadip stood in the center, the heavy silence pressing down on him. Himiko stood at his side, her hand trembling just slightly in his, her eyes alert but uncertain. Across the room, seated upon a blackened throne of molten rock and cosmic ash, Bitcho smirked with his usual venom.
Najiro sat beside him, eyes low, as though too ashamed to meet Subhadip's gaze. Himiko's grip tightened. Subhadip felt it. He looked over, gave her the smallest nod, and together they took another step forward.
That was when a voice echoed out—sharp, condescending, and laced with ancient arrogance.
"Why is this woman walking beside him?"
It was the Arch of Loplo, one of the council members, standing tall in his gold-encrusted robes. His voice dripped disdain.
Subhadip didn't flinch.
"She's my mentor," he replied calmly. "My boss. And a partner for whom I'd die."
Another scoff followed.
"Is she your love then?"
Subhadip didn't hesitate. He turned to Himiko, eyes locked with hers.
"More than love," he said.
The room rippled, the statement cracking something unseen. Bitcho shifted in his seat, the smirk never leaving his face.
Subhadip and Himiko approached the divine mechanism at the chamber's center. Subhadip extended his hand to the glowing device—an artifact of cosmic purpose—and as he did, he felt the world tilt.
Then, everything changed.
A blinding pulse.
Visions.
Subhadip saw himself, holding a younger version of himself in his arms. Not as a brother. Not as a father. But as something… eternal.
He came to.
Gasps filled the chamber.
"He's been enchanted," someone whispered.
Subhadip shook his head, eyes focused.
"I don't think so."
A voice asked, "Why not, Son of the God?"
He stared ahead. "Because… he can't be my father."
Reshuro, seated on the high council's side, flinched for the first time.
"What are you saying?"
Subhadip looked around the chamber, his voice resolute:
"I saw myself… holding my younger self. That means—I'm the God."
Murmurs broke out. Himiko remained still beside him, but her eyes—her eyes were wide with stunned understanding.
Bitcho leaned forward, his smile sharp as a blade.
"Just a power-hungry brat."
Subhadip didn't even blink.
"I didn't come here to talk to people like you."
His aura ignited—a shimmering field of raw energy, pulsing like a second heartbeat. The chamber dimmed.
One saint in the crowd rose.
"Being one of the strongest doesn't make you experienced."
But Himiko spoke then, voice low but unwavering.
"I saw it. I saw what he saw. It was him."
Bitcho snarled.
"Shut up, girl."
Subhadip's body moved before his mind did.
"How dare you," he growled.
Bitcho rolled his eyes. "She isn't anyone of yours."
Himiko looked down, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. She didn't cry, but the pain in her heart echoed louder than words.
Bitcho turned to Reshuro with that same mocking smile.
"See what kind of daughter you've raised? She isn't the one."
Reshuro, who had remained emotionless throughout, finally reacted. A twitch in his jaw, a subtle clench of his fists.
Then he snapped.
"What did you just say… about my love?"
The entire chamber stiffened. Even Bitcho blinked.
Reshuro rose slowly, his robes cascading like storm clouds.
"If she isn't the one—then nobody is."
Subhadip stepped beside him, their energies aligning, resonating.
He spoke, his voice a calm storm:
"She is not just the one. She is mine."
He turned to Himiko, stepped close, and held her face gently.
"I came here because of you. I am who I am because of you."
He kissed her—not with lust, but with the kind of love that bends time.
The chamber exhaled.
A silence deeper than death.
Bitcho sneered. "So this is divinity? A kiss and a claim?"
Subhadip turned to him.
"You insult her? You insult him?"
He pointed to Reshuro.
"That man… is my father now. My father-in-law. The one whose blood flows through the woman who made me whole."
Bitcho began to rise but was cut short.
"You dare question my love? Then you question me. You dare question my family? Then prepare to answer to me."
Bitcho tried to stand tall, words loading in his throat.
But Subhadip's voice thundered over him:
"You were meant to serve the God. Not question Him."
He took a step forward.
"I'm not a god," he admitted. "I'm a commoner. But you all made me one. And now, I will act like one."
He ascended the stairs to Bitcho's seat, face to face now.
"Even if I'm not divine—I will overthrow you."
Bitcho's face twisted. "Who said it? Who confirmed your godhood?"
Subhadip grinned. "My eyes. My truth. The visions. The proof."
"Science may differ. History may lie. But the truth of a soul doesn't falter."
And then… murmurs.
From every corner:
"This wasn't in the prophecy."
"He was supposed to fall silent."
"He was meant to claim her, yes. Accept his fate, yes. But this? Challenging Bitcho? That was never written."
Subhadip turned toward them all.
"Because the prophecy… was rewritten."
Gasps. Shock.
"Rewritten? By whom?"
Subhadip looked down, voice soft:
"I don't know."
He turned to Bitcho, his voice sharp once more:
"And I said—what did you say about my love?"
The chamber didn't move.
Even time seemed to pause.
And then, the chamber began to glow—not from any artifact, but from Subhadip himself.
Divinity, perhaps.
Or just a mortal, who had loved enough to become divine.
And as Reshuro looked at him—eyes filled not with duty, but with a father's pride—he whispered:
"He's ready."
He looked at Reshuro with calm defiance.
"You can call me Subhadip," he said, his voice steady. "I don't care about the DirjidCur. I'm your daughter's love… and we will be together. The world will know who I truly am. I'll reveal myself soon—no matter what stands in my way."