The Styks rippled in silence.
From its silver waters — where time itself bowed and heavens were mirrored — a single figure rose.
Serion.
The High Son of Heaven.
His arrival shattered the calm of creation.
The ripple from his first step broke the chains of still water. Golden light radiated from his hair, each strand glowing like molten dawn. His eyes — one pale gold, one deep blue — carried the weight of divine mandate, and as he looked into the reflection of the Styks, he saw not water, but the fading image of the one who had defeated its ruler.
"A presence that defies the river's law," he murmured, his voice smooth, soft — yet carrying enough command to make the air bend. "He who drinks the Styks… becomes neither mortal nor god. Then what is he?"
He reached out a hand.
The river recoiled.
Even the divine waters hesitated.
The Outer Realm of the Styks Court trembled as Serion's wings unfolded — six radiant sigils of light, each representing an aspect of heavenly dominion. The other Sons of Heaven watched from the Celestial Pavilion, cloaked in the mist of immortality.
"Serion," one called, a lower son wrapped in lightning, "you would descend yourself? The river's defiler may be a trick of lower gods—"
Serion's gaze silenced him.
"No," he said quietly. "If the river of eternity submits to a will that is not Heaven's, then this is no minor god. It is something else. I will see it with my own eyes."
Without another word, Serion's wings folded into the fabric of light itself, and he descended.
Azure Blue — the planet of endless skies and ancient cultivation.
Its suns glimmered across oceans of jade forests, and somewhere beneath, in the deepest veins of the world, the new power Lucien had brought was already altering everything.
The cultivators called it the Age of the Shimmering Soul, a time when the world itself dreamed.
And on that same world…
A mansion stood, alone, proud — elegant, dark — the Dreamveil Estate.
Serion landed silently upon the forest edge, his boots never touching the soil, his form untouched by gravity. Birds fell still mid-flight, and the trees bent ever so slightly in his direction — as if fearing the divine.
His gaze wandered across the treeline until it met the distant shimmer of Lucien's creation — the estate built from dreamlight and abyssal stone.
The faint hum of cosmic harmony radiated from it.
It wasn't just architecture.
It was alive.
Every wall, every ripple in its aura, thrummed with an intelligence greater than anything Serion had ever felt.
"This place…" he whispered. "It breathes."
He stepped forward, and immediately the pressure of an unseen power pressed against him. His veins froze. His breath stilled.
Something in that mansion was looking back.
Not a person.
A memory.
A residual will of something far beyond Heaven's order.
And even for Serion, one of the High Sons of Heaven — his knees nearly buckled.
"So this… is where the river's power vanished."
He smiled faintly, forcing composure. "Then I shall see the master of this dwelling."
The wind shifted — and a single leaf, black and silver, fell from the sky, landing gently before him.
The mark of the Void.
Serion's eyes narrowed. He took another step forward, summoning his divinity. His aura roared like a collapsing sun — a wave of gold flame and seraphic will surging outward. But the moment it touched the edge of the estate's barrier… it vanished.
Simply erased.
"Erased…?" His voice trembled in disbelief. "My divinity— neutralized?"
He tried again, this time channeling his Law of Causality. Every action that entered the field should be bound to a divine consequence, bending fate to his favor.
But nothing.
The law refused to respond.
It wasn't suppressed.
It simply… did not exist here.
Serion's expression shifted from curiosity to awe. "What manner of being builds a place like this?"
Then the air shimmered.
The door to the Dreamveil Estate opened.
A small girl stepped out — Aelira — barefoot, silver-haired, her eyes clear as dawnlight. She tilted her head curiously at the sight of the celestial stranger standing among the trees. On her shoulder, a small black creature — Umbra in his tiny form — opened one golden eye.
Serion froze.
The child's aura was faint, pure, yet… terrifyingly familiar.
The faint trace of that same impossible resonance he'd felt from the Styks — only purer, gentler, but undeniably from the same source.
"You…" he whispered, eyes widening. "You bear the same breath as him."
Aelira blinked. "Mister, you're loud."
Umbra growled softly — a low, dimensional rumble that bent sound itself. Serion instinctively stepped back. His wings unfurled halfway, his instincts screaming that even in that small, innocent form… the creature beside her could devour stars.
Then the door behind her opened again — slowly, casually — and a voice drifted through, smooth, calm, filled with a weight that made reality tremble.
"Aelira," the voice said, "don't wander too far. Your tea will get cold."
Serion froze.
Every atom in his being recognized that tone.
That presence.
From within the mansion, the clone of Lucien Dreamveil stepped out.
His expression was serene, his hands clasped behind his back, eyes carrying the abyss itself — quiet, endless, yet knowing.
"A guest from Heaven?" Lucien's clone asked, smiling faintly. "How rare."
Serion's divine aura faltered. The moment Lucien's gaze touched him, all his memories — every lifetime, every divine moment, every flicker of power — felt meaningless.
"You're the one who—" Serion began, his voice cracking slightly.
Lucien tilted his head. "Drank the Styks?"
He smiled. "I was thirsty."
For the first time in countless eons, Serion laughed — weakly, nervously, and genuinely afraid.
"You mock Heaven itself."
Lucien raised a hand and shrugged. "Heaven mocks itself."
Then the forest went silent again — as if creation itself was holding its breath.
That night, all across Azure Blue, the cultivators looked up.
A strange new star had appeared in the sky — silver and black, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
None knew it was the echo of Serion's descent.
None knew it was a sign that Heaven itself had noticed this world.
But somewhere in that quiet forest, beneath that living mansion, a man who defied the Styks smiled faintly and whispered to himself—
"The heavens are watching… Good. Let them watch."