Cornea and Tethys followed Astrea to the far edge of the cosmos—past familiar constellations, past domains even gods whispered about only in fear.

  What awaited them was not Heaven

  No blinding gold.

  No hollow sanctity.

  No thrones floating above kneeling worlds.

  Instead—

  A kingdom.

  Vast lands stretched outward, layered plains stacked like terraces of reality itself. At the highest elevation stood a colossal palace—not radiant, not divine, but ancient

  Astrea gestured forward.

  “See that palace on the upper plain? That’s where the gods outside of Heaven reside. And the city beneath it—those are the lesser gods.”

  Tethys stared, stunned.

  “So many… why are there gods?”

  Astrea didn’t answer immediately.

  Then she said flatly,

  “Because they’re disposable.”

  Tethys turned to her, confused.

  “Lesser gods aren’t lives to them,” Astrea continued. “They’re sport

  She pointed toward the centre of the palace grounds.

  There, carved into reality itself, stood a gigantic colosseum—its walls scarred, its sands darkened by old blood that time had failed to wash away.

  “In that arena,” Astrea said, “they force lesser gods to fight each other. Battle royales. Survival matches. Slaughter for entertainment.”

  Cornea’s obsidian eyes snapped wide—then burned.

  “They stole their freedom,” she growled. “Why didn’t you stop this?”

  Astrea’s gaze lowered, just slightly.

  “Because these gods serve a purpose.”

  She exhaled.

  “They protect our cosmos from something far worse.”

  Tethys froze.

  “…Worse?”

  Astrea nodded.

  “External gods.”

  The words landed like a fracture in reality.

  “Gods who do not belong to this cosmos. Not children of Aethel—children of

  primordial beings.”

  Tethys’ jaw trembled.

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  “There are… gods outside our universe?”

  “Yes,” Astrea said quietly. “Thirteen primordial beings in total, according to them. Aethel was the oldest. That’s why our cosmos endured.”

  Her eyes hardened.

  “But now two thrones of Heaven have fallen. And the only thing keeping the external gods from invading… is kingdom.”

  Silence followed.

  “We cannot take them lightly,” Astrea said. “They are monsters who fight monsters.”

  She paused, then spoke again.

  “I came here by accident once. Outsiders aren’t welcome. I was thrown into the colosseum—forced into a battle royale against hundreds of lesser gods.”

  Tethys held her breath.

  “I survived,” Astrea said. “I won. That’s how I earned their respect.”

  Her eyes shifted to Cornea. Then to Tethys.

  “You two must do the same.”

  “…Or?”

  Astrea didn’t sugarcoat it.

  “Or they will dispose of you.”

  A long silence followed.

  Then Tethys stepped forward.

  “It doesn’t matter whether I win,” she said, fists clenched. “I have

  Cornea’s aura erupted—obsidian swallowing light.

  “These beings enslave lesser gods and call it order,” she said coldly. “Very well. I’ll return the favour.”

  Her eyes burned with murderous intent.

  “I will use

  as my weapons—

  and I will destroy Chronos.”

  Astrea studied them both for a long moment.

  Then she nodded.

  “…Very well.”

  She turned toward the palace.

  “Let’s go.”

  As Astrea led them into the palace, the air itself felt heavier—like gravity bent to unspoken rules.

  Several unfamiliar figures awaited them.

  “Greetings, Goddess of Space,” one of them said.

  His gaze slid past Astrea—and when it landed on Cornea and Tethys, his smile widened. Not warmly. Not respectfully.

  Like a child spotting new toys.

  “So these are the rumoured Demon Queen of the Underworld,” he said slowly, eyes lingering on Cornea, “and the former goddess who still wields power even after losing divinity.”

  Astrea’s expression tightened.

  She gestured toward them, introducing each in turn.

  “Oneiros,” she said, nodding toward a tall, drowsy figure leaning against a pillar—“God of Dreams.”

  “Termina,” she continued, indicating a woman whose presence felt like an invisible wall—“Goddess of Boundaries.”

  “Mnemos,” she said next, her voice lowering slightly, “God of Echoes.”

  Then she turned to the one who had spoken earlier.

  “And Barys—God of Gravity.”

  Finally, she glanced toward the last figure.

  “And you already know Aeon. God of Wind.”

  Barys chuckled softly.

  “We don’t have our

  ready yet,” he said casually. “The lesser gods need a few days before the battles can begin.”

  His eyes gleamed.

  “So you’ll have to wait.”

  Cornea’s aura darkened immediately.

  “We don’t have days,” she snapped. “Chronos may already be hunting us. And Arlen—”

  “He might die,” Barys finished for her, still smiling.

  “Then let me be generous.”

  He stepped forward, gravity subtly tightening with every step.

  “Fight

  instead.”

  Astrea’s eyes widened.

  “Wait—this isn’t fair. You’re exploiting their desperation!”

  Barys ignored her.

  “Not lesser gods,” he continued. “Real gods. If you win, we’ll cooperate in your war against the God of Time.”

  His grin sharpened.

  “But if you lose—”

  The pause was deliberate.

  “You become lesser gods under us. You obey. Forever.”

  The silence was suffocating. Cornea’s fists clenched. What should she do? Even Tethys’ fate lies of her shoulder.

  Then, before Cornea could make her decision—

  Tethys stepped forward.

  “Very well,” she said.

  Every eye turned to her.

  “But if

  lose,” she continued, voice trembling yet firm, “then will obey

  until you die.” She pulled out Oath binder. “I took it from Arlen before coming here. This will seal the deal. Astrea will hold on to it while the fight.”

  For a moment—

  Then Barys burst into laughter.

  “Bold words for a child.”

  He spread his arms.

  “Very well. Who wishes to fight them?”

  Oneiros yawned.

  “I don’t care,” he muttered. “Wake me when something interesting happens.”

  He turned and walked away—only to collapse halfway. Several lesser gods hurried over and carried him off like furniture.

  Aeon sighed.

  “I’m out too. I didn’t come here for politics. I’ll save my strength for the real enemy.”

  Barys shrugged.

  “Fine.”

  He turned.

  “Mnemos. Termina.”

  Both stepped forward.

  “Winner decides the fate of the loser,” Barys declared. “Lesser god… or master.”

  He snapped his fingers.

  “Servants.”

  A pair of lesser gods rushed forward, pushing open the massive gates of the colosseum.

  “Goddess of Space,” Barys said without looking back, “come. We’ll watch from above.”

  The gates groaned open.

  “Let the trial begin.”