The halls of the Heavenly Pavilion glowed in argent hues that never dimmed. The architecture itself sang faint hymns of creation, each note reverberating across galaxies tethered to divine law.
And through those luminous gates walked Serion, his face pale, his wings dimmed.
The other High Sons paused their discussions. Radiant forms, each representing a different Heavenly Dominion — Judgement, Dawn, Harmony, Flame, and Silence — turned their gazes upon him.
"Serion," spoke Aurelion, the Son of Dawn, his voice echoing with blinding composure. "You were gone long. The Styks' balance quakes. Speak — what did you find on the mortal plane?"
Serion raised his head slowly. His mouth opened — but for a moment, no words came. Only a deep, distant tremor in his breath.
Then softly, he said,
"Heaven… has met something it cannot define."
The others exchanged uncertain glances.
"Explain," demanded Vaelric, the Son of Judgement, whose halo burned like molten law.
Serion's eyes unfocused slightly, as if he were still half-standing before that impossible throne. "A being dwells upon the mortal plane. It carries Heaven's light and Void's abyss. A paradox given flesh. I looked into him and saw the death of definition itself."
The room fell silent. Even the cosmic hum of the Pavilion dulled, as if Heaven itself leaned closer.
"He called himself Lucien," Serion whispered. "And if Heaven sends war… Heaven will lose."
Back on Azure Blue
The sun spilled gold across the canopy of ancient trees. Aelira rode atop Umbra—now in his small, sleek form—laughing as the wind caught her hair. She was on her way to the sect, unaware that she was already becoming the living intersection between the mundane and the impossible.
Her aura shimmered faintly—a reflection of Lucien's bloodline energy weaving through her veins. Even the trees seemed to bow slightly as she passed.
"Umbra," she said, her voice soft but commanding, "let's go faster!"
The creature purred in a vibration that shook the sky, shooting forward like a shadow streak beneath the sun.
Meanwhile — Far to the West
Lucien's clone walked in silence across the cracked desert. The horizon blazed like glass, and in the distance stood a solitary mountain — ancient, jagged, and chained by glowing seals that stretched into the sky.
"Hmm," Lucien mused, his eyes narrowing. "So this is where Heaven hides its shame."
The mountain pulsed once. A sound like laughter — low, amused, untamed — rippled through the air.
From the base of the mountain, amid dust and crumbling stone, a voice spoke:
"Another pilgrim? Or another fool looking for enlightenment?"
Lucien smirked. "Neither. Just bored."
The mountain trembled, and a single golden hand — bound in talismans of divine script — tore free of its seal. Then came a grin full of teeth sharper than sin itself.
"Bored, eh? You've come to the right place then."
The figure stepped out — Guru, the Monkey King.
His fur was burnished gold, his eyes twin suns of rebellion. The air around him carried stories: of gods he'd humiliated, of skies he'd split, of a Heaven that once trembled because a single monkey dared to laugh at its order.
"Guru," Lucien said, tilting his head, "the one who rebelled against Heaven. The trickster sealed by Buddha himself."
Guru's smirk widened. "You know me, eh? Then you know I don't like being looked down on by strangers."
Lucien's clone chuckled. "Then you'll like this less."
He snapped his fingers. The seals evaporated.
Not tore — vanished, as though embarrassed to exist in his presence.
Guru blinked once. "Huh. Been centuries since someone's done that without blowing themselves up. Who in the blinding hell are you?"
"Lucien," he said simply. "Just Lucien."
Guru stretched, bones cracking, power radiating. "Lucien, huh? You don't look like a god."
"I'm not." Lucien's smile turned razor-thin. "I just make them."
The monkey's grin returned in full. "Good! Then you won't cry when I break you!"
Lucien's eyes flashed. "Try."
They vanished.
One moment they stood on the mountain; the next, they were in outer space, stars spiraling around their clashing auras.
Guru spun his staff — the Ruyi Jingu Bang, the Infinite Pillar — each swing causing space to warp and stretch. Meteors shattered into dust under its wind.
Lucien blocked a strike with one finger, redirecting the impact into a dead star that imploded silently behind him.
Guru's laughter roared through the void. "Finally! A fight that ain't wrapped in sermons and divine whining!"
Lucien's clone grinned back. "You're not bad."
"Not bad? Boy, I was chaos before chaos had a name!"
He split into thousands of afterimages, each attacking from a different angle — staff, fists, feet, tails — each strike carrying the wrath of rebellion itself.
Lucien's form blurred; his movements became poetry in collapse. He countered with Tian Quan — the martial art born of his battle with Heaven's Son. Each motion was the merging of void and will.
A single kick sent ripples through galaxies, shifting entire planetary orbits. Guru laughed even as he tumbled through a nebula, eyes alight with joy.
"Beautiful!" the Monkey King bellowed. "But you're holding back!"
Lucien smirked. "I'm being polite."
The Monkey King vanished — reappearing behind him, driving a blow into Lucien's chest that exploded a sun behind them. Lucien staggered slightly, coughed once — smoke and light spilling from his mouth — and then smiled again.
"Interesting. You almost made me move."
Guru blinked. "Almost?"
Lucien snapped his fingers. Reality twisted. Guru's momentum reversed mid-air. The very concept of motion rewound, forcing the Monkey King back to where he'd begun.
Still laughing, Guru slammed his staff into the void and bowed slightly. "You're a monster. I like that."
Lucien's smile softened. "You're not so bad yourself."
Guru floated closer, squinting. "So… what now? You gonna seal me again?"
Lucien shook his head. "No. Stay free. The world needs a little chaos. It keeps things interesting."
Guru's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Then you have a friend in me, Void-boy."
Lucien chuckled quietly. "Good. I might need one soon."
Back on Azure Blue, the night sky rippled. Stars aligned for the briefest second, forming the faint outline of a golden monkey dancing between constellations.
And somewhere deep within Heaven, the alarms began to sing.