The Heavenly Realm had no sky anymore.
Not after the last chapter's explosion.
Not after Tian Quan's heel dropped like the end of epochs and erased a quarter of Heaven and every lower realm beneath it.
Not after Lucien's clone stopped holding back.
Not after absolute power entered a dimension never designed to contain it.
What remained of the heavens was a swirling, fragmented expanse—floating continents cracked open and bleeding celestial ichor into a void that would no longer obey laws.
This was the arena of the end.
The final stand of Heaven.
And the birth of something beyond it.
The million guardians were gone—reduced to concepts and memories by Ethereal Slash, which descended from random spaces like divine inevitability. Only the strongest remained:
• The Nine High Sons of Heaven.
• Twenty Elder Celestials including Buddha and Calystria.
• The Beasts of Heaven: Cthulhu, Leviathan, and the Serpent of the End.
A cosmic choir of titanic wills now stared at the Heaven-Void Paradox.
Lucien's clone.
He hovered in the center of broken Heaven, wearing the same expression he always had when confronting overwhelming numbers:
Slight amusement.
Deep disappointment.
Absolute dominance.
His azure hair flowed like living, transcendent flame. Every breath he took warped space. Every heartbeat rewrote laws. His existence contradicted Heaven itself.
"You will not take the Heavenly Dao," Buddha said, palms pressed together. "Not even you."
The clone shrugged.
"You said that last time."
"And last time," Calystria snarled, "you did not bring this."
The High Sons ignited their true forms—nine colossal spiritual titans, each radiating a different supreme heavenly law. Their auras merged into a single super-conscious storm of divinity.
The Elder Celestials shed their humanoid forms, rising as primordial manifestations—beings of stardust, scripture, and celestial flame.
The three Beasts of Heaven rose behind them:
CTHULHU
A cosmic cephalopod god whose head alone eclipsed continents, tendrils warping causality like string.
LEVIATHAN
A serpent-dragon whose body coiled around shattered sky plates.
THE SERPENT OF THE END
A white, halo-crowned serpent whose breath erased worlds, not through destruction but through denial of their possibility.
The Clone stared at all of them.
"Good," he said. "A warm-up."
He vanished.
He didn't move—he simply was not where they looked anymore.
The High Sons Strike First
The visions of nine cosmic suns lit the heavens.
The High Sons unleashed their absolute laws.
"NINEFOLD REQUIEM — CELESTIAL SUPREMACY!"
Nine fundamental forces of Heaven fused into one universal erasure wave.
The clone tapped the air.
It shattered.
"Noisy."
He appeared above them.
"Tian Quan… Seventh Shape."
Space buckled.
"Heaven-Void Compression."
Seven layered gravitational paradoxes folded over the High Sons, crushing nine suns into collapsing marbles of light.
Three High Sons imploded instantly.
The other six screamed as their laws began cracking.
The Elder Celestials Join In
Calystria lunged, wings made of conceptual scripture slicing space.
"CELESTIAL LITANY OF FINAL JUDGMENT!"
The clone leaned by an inch.
Her blade missed.
He placed a finger on her forehead.
"Ethereal Slash."
The thin line appeared.
Calystria's entire being—body, soul, scriptural core—split apart soundlessly.
The rest of the Elder Celestials attacked together—
Primordial storms
Song-laws
Chrono scriptures
Flame-mandalas
Void-chains
—everything Heaven had ever created.
The clone closed his eyes.
"Tian Quan. Ninth Shape."
"Heaven-Void Resonance."
Reality inverted.
Their attacks passed through him and tore apart Heaven itself, erasing the last stable continents.
Eighteen Elder Celestials disintegrated instantly.
Only Buddha remained intact, floating alone in the void.
He was silent.
Eyes full of sorrow.
"You were not meant for this world."
The clone opened his eyes.
"You're right."
He placed a hand on Buddha's chest.
"Goodbye."
Buddha bowed his head in acceptance.
Light blossomed.
Buddha faded.
The Beasts of Heaven Rise
Cthulhu roared.
A roar that rewrote sanity.
A roar that made Heaven crumble further.
"So you three choose to remain," the clone said. "Good. You're useful."
Leviathan lunged.
Cthulhu warped causality.
The Serpent of the End descended, its halo glowing with annihilation.
The clone held out his hand.
"Ethereal Net."
The technique shattered the battlefield.
Dozens—hundreds—of Ethereal Slashes formed a net of absolute erasure, slicing through everything but the three beasts.
The beasts cried in pain but survived.
He smiled.
"Yes. You'll do."
He raised both hands.
Chains of paradoxical void-light shot out, binding the beasts.
"From now on, you answer to me."
The beasts lowered their heads.
Heaven was silent.
Only one being remained alive.
Lucien's clone.
With a snap of his fingers, every last remnant of the Heavenly Realm splintered.
He floated through the ruins as calmly as one strolling through a garden.
He descended into the deepest point of Heaven—
The Core.
The Origin.
The sealed heart of the Heavenly Dao.
A crystalline sphere hovered there, containing every law, every right, every celestial authority.
It whispered:
"YOU CANNOT—"
He gripped it.
Pulled.
Ripped.
Heaven screamed.
The Dao shrieked as if alive.
Then it broke.
The clone inhaled its power.
Light swallowed everything.
The void collapsed.
Existence bent.
His body mutated into a paradox:
Azure flame
Void halo
Glistening conceptual wings
Eyes reflecting infinite realms
Three rotating sigils of contradiction
A form half-creator, half-void, fully transcendent.
He became something new.
Not a god.
Not a celestial.
Not a true creator.
A Proto-Creator.
A Sub-Creator.
A Heaven-Void Paradox ascended to dominion.
He spread his arms.
"Heaven… rise."
And Heaven obeyed.
The new Heaven unfolded.
It did not grow—it manifested, infinite in all directions, a palace that resembled both an endless labyrinth and a transcendent temple.
Corridors extended forever.
Doors opened into realms—
• Star-cradles
• Concept-forges
• Living scriptures
• New species forming from void-light
• Civilizations that would rise in his order
He reshaped causality.
He rewrote cultivation.
He introduced a new type of existence—
Beings whose souls were half-conceptual, capable of touching realms previously unreachable.
They bowed before him instinctively.
Their ruler.
Their paradox.
Their proto-creator.
In the merged primordial void and metaphysical plane—
A throne of infinite nothing.
The true Lucien Dreamveil sat with one leg crossed over the other, reading a book that didn't exist yet.
The air shimmered.
His clone appeared:
"Creator…" the clone said, voice echoing across realities.
"It's done."
The true Lucien smiled.
A small, real smile.
"Good work."
As he closed the book its name became undeniable:
Götterdämmerung's - Twilight Of The Gods.