Chapter 81 – "The Throne and the King":
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Elyon smiled nervously as he saw his mother's true original form.
That presence… it was as if the air itself remembered fear.
Zarion, standing back, narrowed his eyes.
> Orvyn… that's Orvyn, the king of the ancient humans…
> One of the Six Races who bore the Pillars of Creation…
> Has he really descended here?
Naël felt a chill run down his spine.
> So that's him… the First Human…
> I didn't expect him to still be alive…
Then Orvyn appeared directly before the Fallen Architect, who opened his eyes and said, "Wait, don't do this—"
And was annihilated.
Orvyn spoke:
— You think I didn't know you were working with them?
I'm sure the King of Architects won't blame me — you were a fallen Architect… or rather, you used to be.
Zarion glanced at Valen, whose left eye was shut, blood trickling down.
> Poor guy… he didn't ask for any of this.
Valen muttered:
— You're not wrong.
Zarion added:
— Don't tell me using your Chaos Eyes can make you go blind?
Valen replied:
— Of course not. It's just for style. Besides, I can regenerate.
Zarion smirked:
— Yeah, yeah, sure…
---
Orvyn slowly raised his eyes toward Elyon, his gaze calm but heavy with divine authority.
— I've been trying to reason with you gently for a long time… he said in a deep voice.
Then added, with a chilling undertone:
— …as your progenitor.
And suddenly — WHACK!
A slap of cosmic force.
The shock shook the dimensions. Elyon was hurled across multiple planes of reality, flying through skies, shards of light, and even a passing comet.
Covered in cosmic dust, Elyon slowly stood.
He wiped a trickle of blood from his lips, a sly smile forming.
— Since when… do you hit your son, Dad?
Orvyn took a single step. That was enough.
The ground cracked, time slowed, even light hesitated to move.
— That smile… that smile… I want you to wipe it off right now, he said in a calm but terrifying tone.
— Or what? Elyon replied arrogantly.
WHACK!
A second slap. Even more violent.
The shockwave shattered several minor worlds like soap bubbles.
Elyon rose, seething. He raised his hammer — the weapon of the Throne — and shouted:
— I summon the full power of the Throne!
His body was engulfed in an incandescent halo.
Fragments of cosmic law spun around him like rings of judgment.
His hair turned black, streaked with bluish reflections.
His blood-red eyes glowed with a manic light.
A mischievous grin spread across his face.
— So, what were you saying, Dad? That I should stop smiling?
Look at me now! What can you do about it, huh?!
Orvyn stared at him for a long moment.
He didn't look angry. Just… disappointed.
A disappointment so deep it spoke louder than any army of reproaches.
— Dad, are you disappointed in me? Elyon asked mockingly.
— Yes, Orvyn replied simply.
Then he reached out.
Space vibrated. Elyon felt an invisible force pulling him in, as if his entire being was being drawn toward Orvyn.
— What are you doing?! he tried to resist.
— I'm trying to save you.
Orvyn pulled him in with a sharp motion — and drove his sword straight into Elyon's chest.
Silence fell.
— Dad… why? Elyon whispered, breathless.
Orvyn gripped the hilt of his sword.
— Because you were becoming… too toxic.
But Elyon smiled. A cold, terrifying smile.
— Then… let me show you just how contagious poison can be.
He suddenly drove his knee into his father's chest.
Orvyn was pushed back several meters, sliding across the cosmic void.
Elyon slowly pulled the blade from his torso, the blood evaporating into a mist of energy.
— Come on, Father…
If you think a mere sword can purify me, then you never understood the Throne you left me.
His aura exploded again, painting the sky in gold and red.
The battle between the King of the Ancients and the Heir of the Throne had truly begun.
Chapter 82 – "Legacy of the Throne":
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Orvyn slowly extended his arms.
His aura had calmed, as if anger had melted into heavy melancholy.
— From the beginning… I created the Throne for you, my son, he said in a quiet voice.
His eyes glowed with a gentle, almost human light.
— I loved you more than anything.
Suddenly, the space around them began to vibrate — fragments of memory rose slowly, floating like bubbles of light.
Flashbacks appeared.
A baby Elyon, laughing in his father's arms.
Orvyn, seated on the Throne of Light, holding the child close, a serene smile on his lips.
— My son, I won't let you vanish like the others… you are my hope, he whispered tenderly.
Baby Elyon giggled, clumsily gripping his father's thumb.
A pure image. A true love.
Then — a brutal return to reality.
The memories shattered like glass.
A tear slid down Orvyn's cheek.
— I see those moments are gone…
Elyon, standing before him, crossed his arms, looking bored.
— Dad… stop with the melodrama, seriously. You're gonna make me cry — and trust me, you don't want to see that.
A sarcastic smile accompanied his words.
And suddenly — he charged.
Sword in hand, Elyon rushed forward with such speed that the air imploded behind him.
— Then show me your love, Dad!
The sword sliced through space, tracing a line of pure light.
Orvyn dodged with fluid grace, the attack tearing through multiple dimensions — entire worlds disintegrated in its wake.
Silence. Then —
WHACK!
Orvyn grabbed his son's wrist.
His grip closed, unyielding.
Elyon tried to break free, but couldn't.
— Still so impatient, Orvyn sighed.
And without warning — BAM!
A punch to the gut.
Then another. And another.
Each impact echoed like a cosmic drum.
Elyon doubled over, spat a bit of blood — but flashed a smug grin.
— You hit hard for an old man!
Orvyn responded with a barrage of strikes to the chest, faster than thought.
The blows pierced layers of reality, sending shockwaves so powerful even the Void trembled.
Then, in a sweeping motion, he kicked Elyon with monstrous force.
The Son of the Throne flew through several dimensional portals before crashing into a wall of light as solid as a frozen star.
Naël, watching from afar, turned pale.
— This fight… defies logic.
Vael, from the Palace of the Void, raised an eyebrow while munching spectral popcorn.
— A father and son throwing universes at each other… we've officially seen everything.
Death, impassive, calmly noted:
— A family reunion, apocalypse-style.
---
Elyon, gasping, slowly stood.
A crack ran through his spiritual armor, but his eyes burned brighter than ever.
— You had your little nostalgia trip, Dad… now it's my turn to remind you why you created me.
But before he could move —
Orvyn appeared in front of him.
Without warning, he placed his hand on his son's head… and began dragging him violently across terrains he conjured on the spot by sheer will.
Each impact birthed and destroyed landscapes: a desert, a city, a sea of flames — all obliterated in seconds by Elyon's passage.
> SBLAAAM — CRASH — DOUM — WHAM — SBLRRT —
Elyon watched the cosmic geography fly past in "forced fast travel" mode.
— DAD! LET ME GO! I WANTED TO TALK, NOT DO INTERDIMENSIONAL PARKOUR!
Orvyn, emotionless:
— Divine pedagogy, son.
Then, with a gesture, he hurled him through the final reality.
A colossal wall appeared before Elyon, made of indestructible divine stone.
BAM! Elyon slammed into it so hard the wall shook.
Before he could fall, golden chains burst from the wall and wrapped around him.
Elyon, bound like a cosmic insect, squirmed.
— You call this a family discussion?!
Orvyn calmly reappeared before him.
His shadow stretched across worlds.
— You wanted a lesson?
— Wait, we can negoti—
WHACK!
A divine slap.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Slaps.
Slaps so powerful even the constellations looked away.
Elyon's eyes widened, stunned.
— DAD, YOU'RE INSANE!
Each slap shook an entire dimension.
— WHACK!
— YOU'RE GONNA DISINTEGRATE ME!
— WHACK!
— I'M ALREADY PUNISHED, STOP!
Vael, laughing from the Void:
— I think he just invented Judgment by Cosmic Slap.
Death, unimpressed:
— And to think they call this a divine bloodline.
Orvyn finally stopped, his hand still smoking.
He stared at his son, calmly.
— You still don't understand, Elyon.
The Throne isn't power… it's responsibility.
Elyon, face shattered but regenerating, muttered weakly:
— Yeah… and you're not a father… you're an operating system.
Orvyn closed his eyes, disappointed.
His aura rose — heavier, more regal.
— Then I'll remind you… why they called me the King of the Ancient Humans.
The ground trembled.
The Void began to bend.
And a massive circle appeared behind Orvyn — the symbol of the Pillars of Creation.
— Dad… you're not seriously going to eliminate me?
— No, my son.
I'm going to purify you.
Chapter 83 – Purification or Betrayal?
While Elyon was still bound by astral obsidian chains, a massive concentration of energy formed above the magic circle. The air vibrated, dimensions trembled, and even the watching entities in the higher planes held their breath.
Orvyn, his gaze stern and voice deep, declared:
— My son… prepare to be purified.
Elyon, his eyes filled with darkness, sneered:
— That senile druid ritual of yours will never work. You're going to kill me? Your own son?
Orvyn didn't flinch.
— You didn't hear me? I said I'm going to purify you, not kill you. Nuance, Elyon. Nuance.
At that moment, a beam of cosmic energy burst from the magic circle, slicing through space-time like a blade heated white-hot. It struck Elyon head-on, pinning him in an explosion of light so intense it erased entire worlds. Entire dimensions within Orvyn's domain were disintegrated like crumbs in a hurricane.
When the energy finally dissipated, a heavy silence settled.
A silhouette began to reform slowly, like a memory refusing to fade. Elyon, eyes wide, whispered:
— What happened… Dad? I had a dream… I was fighting you… I was… evil?
Orvyn, tears in his eyes, stepped forward:
— At last… my son… you've come back to yourself. Come, let me hold you.
Elyon ran toward him, arms open, emotion trembling on his lips:
— Dad…
But just as their hands were about to touch, a wicked smile crept across Elyon's face. He summoned his sword in a flash of black and tried to stab his father.
Except… nothing.
He was frozen, held by an invisible force. His arm trembled, unable to move an inch.
Orvyn looked at him, unmoved:
— You really thought you'd get me twice? You think I'm some low-level NPC?
Then, with a wave of his hand, he hurled Elyon violently through multiple realities. Elyon bounced off a lava planet, passed through a world of singing crystal, and finally landed in a desert of violet sand.
Getting up, he spat blood and grimaced:
— I get it… it's your telekinesis…
Orvyn pulled him back again like a cosmic magnet. He summoned a strange weapon, forged in pure light, and imbued it with a rare ability: regeneration nullification.
— You're not going to like this one.
Without hesitation, he sliced off Elyon's left arm. Clean. Precise. No mess.
Meanwhile, Valen, still with his left eye closed (for dramatic effect, obviously), watched the scene.
— If this keeps going, he's not going to kill him. He's just giving him a cosmic manicure…
He turned to Elyonna:
— Return to your human form.
Elyonna obeyed, transforming back in a soft glow. Zarion, who hadn't yet had his badass line this chapter, asked:
— What are you planning to do?
Valen smiled and pulled from his inner space a legendary sword: the Nexus Blade, the very one once wielded by Valt.
Zarion raised an eyebrow:
— You couldn't have just used Elyonna?
---
**Meanwhile, at the Palace of the Void…**
Valt sneezed violently.
— Damn bastards… Of all the weapons in the Abyssal world, he had to take mine?!
Nyxa, slouched on a throne:
— Stop being such a killjoy, Valt. You don't own style.
---
Back on the battlefield
Valen, solemn:
— I can't afford to taint Elyonna with my chaotic energy. Besides… I really want to see Valt's face when he sees this.
He slowly opened his left eye. A blood-red glow leaked down his cheek. He stared at the Nexus Blade, coated it in his chaotic energy, and whispered:
— Let me handle this, Liora… or whatever you've become.
Zarion, ever the realist:
— His name is Orvyn, in case you forgot.
Valen smiled, sword in hand, ready to join the fray.
— Then let's remind him who we are.
Chapter 84 – Orvyn's Judgment
Valen rushed toward Elyon at lightning speed, the Nexus Blade pulsing with chaotic energy in his hand.
His intent was clear: end it.
One strike.
One judgment.
He reached Elyon, sword raised.
But before delivering the blow, he paused, his gaze burning:
— Hey, bastard. Can't you see your father isn't trying to eliminate you? He's trying to bring you back.
But since purification keeps failing… either the one who corrupted you is filthier than a demon on a moral strike, or you're just… beyond saving.
Elyon, still missing his left arm — severed by Orvyn with an anti-regeneration weapon — smiled.
A twisted smile.
Then, in a brutal gesture, he tore off his remaining arm himself… and regenerated it in a surge of black energy.
— You want chaos? I am chaos.
Valen struck.
A sword blow so powerful it ravaged entire worlds, realities, dimensions within Orvyn's domain.
But to his surprise… Orvyn caught the blade with his bare hand.
— Stay out of this, Valen. I'm staying out of yours.
Let me handle my son.
Valen leapt back, returning to Zarion and Elyonna, now in human form.
— I don't see how he plans to do it.
Purification keeps failing. Unless he absorbs all the chaos energy inside Elyon…
The stars in his eyes stopped spinning.
He lowered his head.
— Orvyn forbade me from interfering.
Naël, arms crossed, growled:
— I think he's going to try absorbing the chaos himself.
Valen sighed:
— Even for me, that's risky. I could fall into madness.
Elyonna nodded:
— Exactly. But Orvyn is different.
Right, Zarion?
Zarion, thoughtful:
— Chaos energy probably wouldn't affect him… but it'd be a messy ending.
Like, "I saved you, but now I've fused with your evil and I'm a cosmic piece of furniture."
Valen:
— Yeah. Too easy. Too tragic. Too… cliché.
Elyon burst out laughing:
— Your plan's garbage!
Dad, stop dreaming. You're gonna end up purifying yourself.
---
Orvyn stepped forward.
Step by step.
His hand rested on Elyon's shoulder.
His gaze was calm.
Tired.
Determined.
— I'm sorry, my son.
Elyon frowned:
— Wait… you're really going to eliminate me?
Orvyn extended his hand.
And suddenly, his body seemed to grow.
Not physically — but cosmically.
As if his presence stretched beyond the story, beyond time.
A white space formed around them.
Pure.
Empty.
Like a page before the words are written.
Then, the void transformed into a translucent cube, vibrating with narrative energy.
A cylube — a forbidden artifact, capable of existing outside the story itself.
Elyon screamed:
— You're not locking me in here, are you? Dad?!
The cube closed around him.
Sealed.
Perfect.
Unbreakable.
Orvyn whispered:
— You'll stay here.
In this zone beyond time, beyond narration, beyond story.
You'll die… again and again… until you repent.
---
Zarion, in the background:
— Wow. That's… radical.
Naël:
— It's effective.
Elyonna:
— It's cruel. But fair.
Valen, arms crossed:
— It's Orvyn. He doesn't do half-measures.
---
At the Palace of the Void, Vael stood and clapped slowly:
— Well, there it is. The old man pulled out the cube.
I bet in three chapters, Elyon comes out with a beard and a philosophy.
Nyxa:
— Or with a new plan to destroy the story itself.
Valt:
— And I still haven't gotten my sword back.