The citizens of Stoneheart froze. They knew that sound. Peace was a fragile, recent luxury here; war was the default state of existence.

"Fenyra, report!"

Lilith strode out of the War Council chamber, her eyes scanning the bizarre anomaly in the sky while addressing the bird of prey perched on her shoulder.

"Calamity," Fenyra croaked, her feathers bristling. "The sky isn't just changing. It's breaking. This is the omen of the End Times."

She looked up, ancient memories surfacing in her fiery eyes. "My world... it ended like this."

Lilith went cold. She trusted Fenyra. The phoenix wasn't just a pet; she was a refugee from a dead dimension, carrying the genetic memory of an apocalypse.

"The End Times?" Lilith asked sharply. "Who is the enemy?"

"I... I don't know," Fenyra admitted, trembling. "But it is coming."

Lilith didn't hesitate. "Full lockdown. Shields up. Now."

The Colosseum.

The crowd had gone silent. Thousands of eyes were glued to the sky, ignoring the two gladiators who had stopped mid-swing to stare at the cosmic light show above.

"What the hell is going on out there?"

Nico the Fat waddled onto the VIP balcony, Kael standing stoically beside him.

"It looks like a... miracle," Nico muttered, squinting.

"No," Kael said, his voice grim. "It looks like an invasion."

"Look! The barrier!" Nico pointed a sausage-like finger.

A translucent dome of energy shimmered into existence, enveloping the entirety of Stoneheart City.

The sirens had been one thing—a drill, maybe. But the barrier? That cost mana. That meant a threat level beyond standard protocols.

"Shut it down!" Kael barked, turning to his aides. "Evacuate the civilians. Secure the vault. Arm the slaves. Every guard to the perimeter."

Under Orion's design, the Colosseum was a money printer in peace and a fortress in war. Kael and Nico knew the drill.

"War... goddammit, war again!" Nico cursed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Does this mean I have to go stand on a wall and poke monsters with a stick again? No! No! I'm an executive now!"

He grabbed a magi-amplifier and started barking orders at the chaotic arena floor.

"Listen up, you maggots! All bets are suspended! Clear the stands in an orderly fa—"

His voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Panic had set in. The "miracle" in the sky, the sirens, the barrier—the smarter ones in the audience knew exactly what was happening, and the stampede had begun.

Within the Citadel.

In her private chambers, Elara looked up from her books, her face pale.

"The Cataclysm."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. As a World Spirit, she had no explicit memory of her previous life, but her soul remembered the taste of the air before her world burned.

Run.

Her survival instinct screamed. She raised a hand, and a teleportation circle began to glow beneath her feet.

Pallas. Mother.

The circle flickered. She couldn't leave them.

Father. Mentor.

The circle faded completely.

Her father and the Commander were out there. They were the shield. If anyone could stop the sky from falling, it was them. She would stand her ground.

Titanion Realm.

Chaos reigned. The Human Kingdoms, the Blood Elves, the Dragonflights—all stared at the sky in horror.

In the deep oceans, the tides went rogue. Massive swells battered the coastlines as the laws of physics seemed to bend. Sea races breached the surface by the millions, chattering in fear at the alien sky.

Deep Ocean, Unknown Dimension.

Demigod Lady Seraphina snapped awake from her slumber. Her eyes glowed with iridescent light.

"Why?" she whispered, her voice vibrating through the water. "The World Tunnels were destroyed. How is this possible?"

She didn't waste time. Her tail flashed, and she vanished.

Simultaneously, in the coastal city of Marina, her avatar dissolved into light, recalling its consciousness to the main body.

The Void Between Worlds.

This was the scarred remains of the battlefield where the Titanion Realm had once clashed with the Emerald Dream Realm. It was supposed to be a ruin, a dead zone.

Now, it was active.

Three massive presences materialized in the void: Lady Seraphina of the Deep, Demigod Kairon of the Dreadfin, and Demigod Evander of the Humans.

The Triumvirate of Titanion.

"Kairon, Evander," Seraphina's voice cut through the silence. "Tell me I'm seeing things. Why has the battlefield reopened? Are we reconnected to the Emerald Dream?"

Seraphina hovered in the void, a vision of aquatic war. Her lower body had shifted from a mermaid's tail into a skirt of articulated scale-armor. A crown rested on her brow, and ribbons of iridescent energy drifted around her waist. She gripped a deep-blue trident, her knuckles white.

"Kairon," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "Report."

Kairon shook his head. He had only just roused from a centuries-long slumber. His mind was still foggy. Yet, for Seraphina—the object of his eternal, unrequited devotion—he forced himself to focus.

"I'm as blind as you are, Seraphina. I just woke up." He turned, his adoration instantly hardening into a glare as he locked eyes with the third figure in the void. "Evander. What the hell have you done this time?"

The accusation was sharp. Kairon's demeanor flipped from puppy-dog loyalty to lethal aggression in a heartbeat.

Evander, the Human Demigod, held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Don't look at me. This isn't my doing."

"Isn't it?" Kairon sneered. "Or did you forget the last time the Titanion Realm crashed into the Emerald Dream Realm? That was your people playing with forbidden formations."

"That was an accident," Evander shot back, though he looked weary. He knew his history made him the easy scapegoat. "But look at the energy signature. That isn't the Emerald Dream Realm. It's something else. Something hungry."

The three fell silent. Evander was right. The encroaching reality wasn't just bumping against them; it was actively trying to digest them.

"We have a problem," Seraphina said, her voice cold. "The Realm Wards. I built them to withstand a siege by fellow gods. Yet, this collision is happening, and the alarm didn't even trigger."

"The Wards are silent?" Kairon frowned. That shouldn't be possible. The Titanion Realm's defenses were absolute.

"There is only one explanation," Seraphina continued, her grip tightening on her trident. "The Wards didn't fail. They were bypassed. Someone on the inside invited them in. The enemy has already assimilated our rules."

The atmosphere in the void instantly turned toxic.

Kairon, Seraphina, and Evander drifted apart, forming a jagged triangle of suspicion. Even Kairon backed away from Seraphina. Trust was a luxury of peacetime, and they were suddenly at war.

"Stop it," Evander said, breaking the tension before weapons could be drawn. "We've known each other for eons. We know how we operate. Our power base, our very existence, is tied to the Titanion Realm. Destroying it benefits none of us."

He looked between the Dreadfin and the Mermaid. "If we turn on each other now, we lose. We get eaten. We need to hold the line."

The logic held. They were survivors, not suicidal zealots.

"Fine," Evander said, seeing them relax slightly. "The 'who' doesn't matter right now. The 'how do we win' does. This is my home. My lair. I'm not letting some interdimensional parasite take it."

The Titanion Realm had enjoyed a long era of peace under their triumvirate. It provided a steady stream of faith energy, and none of them wanted to see that well run dry.

"We've been asleep too long," Kairon muttered. "The world has... changed."

He stopped, his head snapping toward a distant sector of the realm. Seraphina and Evander felt it a split-second later.

A massive surge of energy. A miracle was unfolding.

Minutes earlier, panic had gripped the Stoneheart Horde. Orders had screamed through the magical comms: Seal the gates. Raise the kinetic barriers.

Citizens scrambled in the streets, terrified by the sudden darkening of the sky. Then, the statues of the Giant King—monoliths standing in the center of every city plaza—erupted with blinding light.

It wasn't a burning light, but a heavy, golden radiance that washed over stone and flesh alike.

As the glare settled, a projection manifested over every city in the Horde's territory. It was a phantom colossus, a Titan with four heads and eight arms, spanning the heavens.

"My Domain. My Protection."

The voice wasn't just heard; it resonated in the marrow of every living being. It was Orion.

"War brings glory to the fearless," the Titan intoned, his voice indifferent yet absolute. "Disaster approaches. But my people shall not fall."

The eight spectral arms of the Stoneheart Titan moved in a complex weave. A torrent of divine power cascaded down from the sky, slamming into the defensive barriers of every city. The shields flared, thickening with golden energy, reinforcing them to a point where even a Demigod would struggle to break through.

This was no simple spell. This was a Miracle.

Orion had returned to the Stoneheart Horde, using the backdrop of the impending apocalypse to announce his ascension to Demigod status.

In Stoneheart City, the capital, the scene was even more chaotic.

Unlike the projections in the outlying settlements, the manifestation here felt solid, heavy. The divine power was so dense it bathed the entire metropolis in a permanent golden twilight.

"A God..."

On a high balcony overlooking the colosseum, Nico dropped to his knees. The heavy-set merchant, usually concerned only with profit margins, pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor, trembling.

"My Lord... he actually did it."

Beside him, Kadir followed suit, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and ecstasy. Their gamble—their treason against the old order, their allegiance to this upstart—had paid off.

Even the non-native residents, the players and otherworldly travelers who usually scoffed at local superstitions, were stunned into silence. They recognized the energy signature.

"That's an Idol Manifestation," one traveler whispered to his companion. "That's a Body of Faith. He's not just a boss anymore. He's a Demigod."

The news spread like wildfire. Orion had ascended.

Thousands of citizens flooded the inner and outer plazas, prostrating themselves before the glowing statues. The air vibrated with the sound of phantom choirs. It was a scene of absolute, terrifying majesty.

The Titanion Realm was colliding with another world. For the common folk, it was the end of days. But as the golden light of Orion washed over them, they found a new anchor.

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