How could this happen? How could this happen?
The White Giant was supposed to be destroyed by the Star-Forged Holy Sword, and the world was supposed to continue. That was how the story had to end!
Everything should have gone that way. Why hadn't it worked?
On Avalon Island, Samael knelt on one knee, gripping the Holy Sword of the Planet so tightly that his knuckles turned white and crackled. His pale, bloodstained face was bathed in the ever-brightening light, and an unprecedented look of defeat and confusion surfaced there.
At that moment, the Ten Ages of Gods had fallen apart. The gods were powerless, the heroes were all but gone, and the brilliant epics and living legends had come to an end one after another. Only the weak beings called humans remained in the ruins, weeping silently.
Marduk's gaze passed over the ruined World Tree and fixed coldly on the lone island amid the shimmering waves. The unmistakable scent of his archenemy, together with one shocking turn after another, twisted his face into a savage expression. All trace of mockery was gone.
"Damned serpent! Again and again and again, you ruin this King's perfect plan! I will not give you another chance to struggle. Beneath this infinite light, turn to dust. All despair will begin with you!"
At that cold proclamation, swords of light gathered behind the crown, streaking through the sky like meteors that could tear heaven and earth apart, bombarding Avalon Island like a raging storm.
Just then, frail figures and wounded bodies rose like cornered beasts at the end of their rope. They pushed aside rubble, climbed out of craters, and rushed onto the scarred ground. Grabbing the weapons left behind by Divine Spirits and heroes, they roared hysterically at the giant god in the sky.
"Immortality! Immortality! Immortality!"
"The world is Rome!"
"Bang! Bang-bang! Sparta!"
"Who says we have no clothes? We share the same cloak!"
"..."
One figure after another rose up, shouting utterly different cries, yet giving voice to the same will.
In that instant, Mesopotamia's Hellish Dragon Cavalry, the legions of the Roman Empire, Sparta's last guard, the elite warriors of Great Qin. The final essence of humanity from the Ten Ages of Gods straightened their backs, stepped past the barriers that had protected their lives, and launched their final charge at the supreme Divine Spirit.
Mother, gods...
Now that we have stepped out of the cradle, we are no longer fledglings that need shelter!
Even without the strength of gods, the talent of heroes, or the bodies of monsters...
A flesh-and-blood body. Burning once is enough!
In an instant, the light swords piercing the air became blazing torches, igniting the overreaching ants that rushed forward and burning them to ash.
Tabbad... Uncle Tim... General Tareel... Pompey...
Samael's eyes, reddened by the flames, watched those familiar figures melt away in the inferno, and the corners of his eyes nearly split with rage.
But it still wasn't enough. Under the waves of bodies throwing themselves forward, the swords of light were only delayed for a moment before continuing to fall toward Avalon Island without losing force.
Then, one exhausted figure after another struggled up from within the burning World Tree, rushing one after another to meet that world-ending light.
"O spear, O Runes!"
"Amazon!"
"Stella!"
"Goddess, grant me strength!"
"..."
Scandinavian Valkyries, Amazon warriors, the Persian Meteor Corps, Greek Nymphs, and even the fairies who treasured their own lives all stepped forward, turning one after another into flying ash.
Along with the remnants of those armies, names carved into memory vanished as well. Hildr, Thrúd, Kutrind, Brynhildr, Penthesilea, Daphne...
Then the gods, like candles guttering in the wind, supported one another as they rose. Standing upon their own lands and their own territories, they burst forth with their final afterglow.
They did not turn back. They did not hesitate.
If hope truly existed in this world, then the person behind them was the only possibility.
"No!"
Watching the people he cared about build a wall of flesh and blood, only to become kindling one by one and burn away in the flames, the Ancient Serpent sheltered beneath those wings on the rippling lone island let out a heart-wrenching roar. Ether surged wildly through his body and poured into the rock, making Avalon Island shake violently.
Samael advanced with sword in hand, his resolve to die boiling through every drop of blood and every strand of his soul.
But without a sound, a sleeping fruit finally ripened and fell amid the tremors. A deep-blue figure of light, hovering between illusion and reality, appeared behind the Ancient Serpent.
The figure's outstretched arms overlapped with Samael's hands as he gripped the Holy Sword of the Planet. An ethereal voice echoed beside the ears of the man whose eyes were fixed on death.
"The true Holy Sword of the Planet is not mortal iron. It is the majesty of the stars, the will of all things. Let me complete the final forging of the sword in your hands!"
Gaia!
As the deep blue of the planet at the corner of his eye slowly faded into countless specks of stardust and merged with him, Samael stopped where he stood.
In that instant, the breath of grass and trees, the pulse of the earth, humanity's shouts, the heroes' songs, the gods' roars. All things of the mortal world converged and thundered through his mind like the birth of the universe.
The galaxy seemed to overturn in Samael's eyes. He raised his hand and summoned.
Hum...
Golden light patterns flickered, and the Book of Destiny emerged from his chest. Its pages rustled open, revealing blank sheets.
His pale index finger descended, tracing lines of divine runes in a profound and obscure pattern.
"e-nu-ma e-liš la na-bu-ú šá-ma-mu..."
At the same time, that familiar inscription appeared in the minds of every living being in Mesopotamia. As if blessed with sudden insight, they began chanting together the ancient song that marked the beginning of civilization.
"e-nu-ma e-liš la na-bu-ú šá-ma-mu
When the heavens above had not yet been named.
šap-liš am-ma-tum šu-ma la zak-rat
And the earth below had not yet been given a name.
ZU.AB-ma reš-tu-ú za-ru-šu-un
Only the first abyss existed, their begetter.
mu-um-mu ti-amat mu-al-li-da-at gim-ri-šú-un
And Mother Tiamat, who gave birth to them all.
A. MEŠ-šú-nu iš-te-niš i-ḫi-qu-ú-šú-un
Their waters mingled as one.
gi-pa-ra la ki-is-su-ru su-sa-a la she-'u-ú
No reed hut had been woven, no marshland could be seen.
e-nu-ma Dingir.Dingir la šu-pu-u ma-na-ma
At that time, the gods had not yet appeared..."
This was the Mesopotamian creation epic, Enuma Elish!
As the ancient song resonated in chorus, flakes of broken gold fell from the shattered sky, and the Mesopotamian Age of Gods within the World Tree, teetering on the edge of collapse, solidified once more.
As the singing grew louder, golden ripples spread across the Sea of Nothingness. Under the wash of that radiant light, drifting golden spirit particles gradually gathered. One dragon beast after another, half light and half shadow, carried their vanished masters and took form again.
"Immortality! Immortality! Immortality!"
Interwoven figures of light and shadow let out hoarse, desperate cries, shattering the light swords that pierced through the sky.
Though the body is dead, the soul does not perish!
Then the golden pages of the Book of Destiny rustled and turned, and those pale fingertips began writing a new chapter.
At the same time, aboard the shattered Solar Barque of the Night, the surviving Egyptians gazed at the homeland that no longer existed and spoke stubbornly, carving their mark into this world.
"Praise to you, Ra, in your wondrous rising!
You rise, you shine, and make the heavens roll aside.
You are King of the Gods, Lord of all things!
From you we came, and through you we are made sacred."
The soaring chant of the Book of the Dead made warm light burst forth from that gray, lifeless desert.
That was a new sun.
At the same time, the second Age of Gods, Egypt, stabilized.
Then the waters of the Ganges churned and boiled. Upon the unrecognizable earth, the surviving lives sounded the sacred hymns of the Vedas, praising all gods.
"I see the lord of men, and his seven sons,
Benevolent and aged, inviting the rite of sacrifice;
The three realms of the cosmos dwell within them all!
..."
Behind Rama, Karna, and Arjuna shone the divine radiance of Vishnu, Brahma, and Shiva.
Wherever the light reached, the cracks in the earth closed, and ruin gave way to new green life.
The third Age of Gods, India, bloomed with life once more.
At the same time, Greece and Rome, branches of the same root, sang hymns born from the Orphic mysteries, calling together upon names closely bound to one another.
"O all living beings, learn the solemn mysteries and the most powerful prayers.
I call upon the Father of Necessity [Cronus], the Mother of Chaos and Order [Eurynome]...
I call upon the Goddess of Justice [Themis], the Goddess of Wisdom [Athena], the Goddess of Vengeance [Medusa];
The supreme Areopagus, hall of the stars!
I call upon the God of Chaos [Chaos]...
I call upon the King [Zeus], the Earth [Gaia], the radiant Sun God [Helios], the holy Moon Goddess of silver light [Selene], the star-bright [Astraea], and the Night [Nyx].
And [Poseidon], who supports the dark-haired earth, the white-armed Queen of the Underworld [Persephone], the bountiful [Demeter], the archer maiden [Artemis], and your radiant [Phoebus],
May these calls echo across the sacred plain of Delphi and kindle the glory of Olympus..."
Upon the sea of Oceanus, the surging waves gradually calmed, and the land emerged.
The Seven Hills of Rome blazed with light, and the fire of Olympus was kindled once more.
The fourth Age of Gods, Greece, and the fifth Age of Gods, Rome, were anchored.
"ashem vohu... yata ahu..."
At that moment, Persians, Arabs, and Jews gathered together, calling upon the light of this world.
The sixth branch, Persia, stabilized.
"I was born of giants,
And raised by giants.
I remember when there were nine worlds,
Nine giantesses each holding their own place.
And there was an ancient ash tree,
Named Yggdrasil.
Vast beyond compare, holding up heaven and supporting earth,
Dividing the heavens, the earth, and the three lower realms,
Its coiling roots reaching deep beneath the ground.
When our ancestor, the giant Ymir, still lived,
Heaven and earth had not yet begun, and nothing had been set in place.
There was no sand, no soil, no great sea,
And no cool waves..."
The Berserkers and Druids of Scandinavia beat their chests and sang the Edda, the epic of the land beneath their feet. In rough, desolate tones, they recounted the world's fate, sacrifice by blood and destruction by fire.
The seventh Age of Gods, Scandinavia, solidified.
"O Sun, life like flame,
Winged serpent, King of Conquest,
The past has rotted away, and the future shall be yours to command!"
Filled with hope, the Maya sang their praises, calling out to the king of the future. The sea of trees that had been burned to nothing burst with life again, and the king was granted new birth.
The eighth Age of Gods, Maya, was remade.
"Heaven and earth were chaotic, like an egg. Pangu was born within it.
Eighteen thousand years passed. Heaven and earth split apart. The clear Yang became heaven.
The turbid Yin became earth. Pangu remained between them.
Nine changes came each day. Divine in heaven.
Sacred on earth. Each day, heaven rose one zhang higher. Each day, earth grew one zhang thicker. Each day, Pangu grew one zhang taller.
So it continued for eighteen thousand years. Heaven reached its greatest height. Earth reached its greatest depth. Pangu reached his greatest size.
Thus heaven stood ninety thousand li from earth. Afterward came the Three Sovereigns..."
In Huaxia, the descendants of Yan and Huang traced back their glorious past with reverence for Heaven and devotion to their ancestors. The shattered mountains and rivers were bound together by the hearts of the people.
The ninth Age of Gods, Huaxia, returned.
And at the end of the triumphant song, ink-black shadows spread from beneath the roots. The cries of the dead from the Land of Shadows pierced through the seven walls, and fairies danced across the lake, celebrating the rebirth of the world.
The tenth Age of Gods, Celtic/Ireland, was founded.
The Book of Destiny, carved full of countless marks, had nearly turned to its final page.