The world Kael had rebuilt was growing too fast.

Cities sprouted like weeds, gods whispered in markets, and mortals carried sparks of divine power without knowing why. Every prayer, every wish, every fragment of faith birthed something real.

And all of it came from him.

Kael stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking a sprawling valley where light bent unnaturally — three suns hung in the sky, each one a mistake of his own making.

Jorah stood beside him, chewing on dried fruit. "So, let me get this straight. You made three suns because…?"

Kael sighed. "I sneezed while stabilizing the astral rotation."

"Right," Jorah muttered. "World's greatest god. Allergic to sunlight."

Kael smirked but didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on something moving in the valley below — a ripple of shadow that walked like a man.

"That's one of them," he said quietly. "The first fragment."

They descended the cliff and entered a forest that hummed with divine resonance. Trees bent toward Kael as he passed, as if the earth itself remembered its maker. But the air was thick with something else too — corruption. A twisting of his power.

The shadow waited for them at the heart of the forest.

It wasn't monstrous — not yet. It looked like a man cloaked in mist, his eyes twin voids. When he spoke, his voice carried thousands of whispers.

"Father."

Jorah froze. "Okay, nope. I'm out. Not doing the creepy kid thing."

Kael ignored him, stepping closer. "You're not my child."

The figure tilted its head. "You created me when you rebuilt death. You forgot to put an end to endings. So I became one."

"An echo of mortality…" Kael whispered.

The figure smiled — an expression that didn't belong on a god. "I am decay, reborn in your perfect world. The balance you erased."

Then the shadow lunged.

The forest screamed. Leaves burned black, trees aged a thousand years in seconds. Kael drew his blade, golden light searing through the corruption. The clash sent ripples through the air — one of creation, one of ruin.

Jorah dove for cover behind a tree that instantly turned to dust. "Kael! You're losing trees faster than I'm losing patience!"

"Working on it!" Kael yelled back.

He ducked under a swipe that tore the air open. For a second, he saw what lay beyond — a glimpse of the void he had closed when he remade time. A sea of unformed memories and dead timelines.

The shadow grinned. "You can't kill me without unmaking yourself."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Good thing I'm not planning to kill you."

He thrust his hand forward. The air froze. Time stopped — everything except the faint pulse of decay crawling over his arm. He reached into the heart of the shadow, into the raw concept that defined it, and whispered, "Be remembered."

Light burst outward. The forest rewound — trees regrew, ashes reformed into bark. When the light faded, the shadow was gone. In its place stood a young woman with silver hair and black eyes, blinking in confusion.

"What… what am I?" she asked.

Kael's expression softened. "Balance. The world's way of reminding me I'm not perfect."

Jorah peeked out from behind a half-grown tree. "She's not gonna try to kill us, right?"

"Not yet," Kael said.

The woman frowned. "You're Kael Vorrion. The one who gave me a name I don't remember."

Kael smiled faintly. "Then let's start over. What do you want to be called?"

She thought for a moment. "Eira."

"Eira," Kael repeated. "Welcome to the world."

They left the forest together, three silhouettes against a sunset that didn't match any natural color — crimson and indigo swirling like painted fire.

As they walked, Eira asked, "How many others are there?"

Kael's gaze darkened. "Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Each one born from a part of creation I left unfinished."

Jorah whistled. "So basically you're a deadbeat dad to an entire pantheon."

Kael gave him a flat look. "I'm not calling them for child support."

Eira smiled faintly. "They won't all want to meet you. Some will see you as a threat."

"I'd be disappointed if they didn't," Kael replied.

They reached the edge of a desert by nightfall. Three moons now hung in the sky — one pale blue, one blood red, one cracked like glass. The air shimmered with divine resonance.

"That's new," Jorah muttered. "Please tell me you didn't sneeze again."

Kael shook his head slowly. "No. That's someone else's work."

A pulse of energy surged through the sand — and from it rose a temple, impossibly ancient yet newly born. Its pillars were carved with symbols Kael didn't recognize, and at its peak burned a flame that refused to cast a shadow.

Eira whispered, "Another fragment."

Kael stepped forward, his voice low. "No. A rival."

From the temple entrance stepped a tall man wrapped in golden armor — his features sharp, his eyes glowing the same hue as Kael's once had.

Jorah stared. "Uh… why does that guy look exactly like you?"

Kael's jaw clenched. "Because that's what I looked like before the Chrono Blade shattered me."

The man spread his arms. "Kael Vorrion. The world's lost architect."

"Who are you?" Kael demanded.

The double smiled. "I'm the part of you that refused to die when you rewrote existence. I took what you abandoned — divinity. Dominion. Worship."

He gestured toward the flame. "Behold — the Empire of Dawn. The mortals you remade remember me, not you. Their prayers fuel my throne."

Kael's expression hardened. "You're feeding on my world."

"It's our world," the double corrected. "You built it. I perfected it."

Jorah groaned. "Oh, this is gonna end in an ego fight, isn't it?"

Eira took a step forward. "If he's what you used to be…"

Kael nodded grimly. "Then I'm about to fight my own godhood."

The double's grin widened. "You can't kill what you are, Kael. Every victory makes me stronger."

Kael's hand went to his sword. "Then let's see how strong I am without you."

The desert trembled as both figures stepped forward — two Kaels, two creators, one world too small for both.

As the first blow struck, the sky cracked open.

And the world remembered that even gods can bleed.

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