After everyone had left, Arlen took Tethys with him toward the edge of the lesser gods’ town.

  A place far from the coliseum.

  Far from witnesses.

  Far from noise.

  Only broken buildings, dim light, and silence remained.

  Tethys looked up at him, her small footsteps stopping beside his shadow.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  Arlen didn’t answer.

  He scanned the area once more—slow, deliberate—then raised a hand and waved toward the darkness.

  Two figures emerged.

  Lesser gods.

  Their movements were stiff. Mechanical.

  Oath Binder’s chains wrapped around their will.

  Between them, someone was being dragged.

  Bare feet scraped against stone.

  Fingers clawed uselessly at the ground.

  Oneiros.

  The god of dreams.

  “Those two,” Arlen said calmly, “were servants of Oneiros. I bound them earlier.”

  The lesser gods forced their master to his knees.

  Oneiros looked up, panic twisting his face.

  “N–No—wait—Arlen—please—!”

  Arlen stepped closer.

  “You’re useless against Chronos,” he said flatly.

  “You need sleep to use your powers. A luxury we don’t have in a war.”

  He tilted his head, eyes cold.

  “So you’re not an ally.

  You’re not a weapon.

  You’re fodder.”

  Oneiros screamed.

  He thrashed. He begged. He cried.

  It didn’t matter.

  The lesser gods tried to resist—muscles trembling, teeth grinding—but Oath Binder didn’t allow disobedience. Their bodies betrayed them.

  Arlen drew Soul Eater.

  One clean slash.

  The blade sank in.

  A sharp, wet sound followed—and then the divine core shattered.

  Oneiros’ scream cut off mid-breath.

  Divine blood sprayed across the ground.

  Arlen licked the crimson off the edge of his blade.

  Then he turned to Tethys.

  “Have your hydro dragons eat him,” he said.

  “You’ll need the power. Your next mission won’t be small.”

  Tethys didn’t hesitate.

  Water surged from the air, the ground, the cracks between stones.

  Dragons formed—serpentine, violent, blue-eyed.

  They descended on the dying god.

  Teeth tore through flesh.

  Water crushed bone.

  Divinity was ripped apart and swallowed.

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  No body remained.

  No soul.

  No proof.

  When it was over, the ground was clean.

  Tethys stood still.

  The child who once slept in Dryas’ lap was gone.

  There was no mercy in her eyes.

  Only clarity.

  Arlen watched her for a long moment.

  Then, quietly—so quietly that even she didn’t hear—

  “Soon,” he muttered,

  “you’ll face consequences for this.”

  A pause.

  “And so will I.”

  He turned away.

  As he walked back toward the underworld, Arlen began explaining Tethys’ mission.

  And the war moved one step closer to becoming irreversible.

  Meanwhile, in the underworld, obsidian light split the air.

  Cornea emerged before her army.

  Thousands of demons turned as one.

  Silence fell.

  She raised her staff.

  “Gather,” she commanded, her voice carrying authority carved through centuries of blood.

  “Courageous demons of the Hollow Court.”

  A pause.

  “We are declaring war on Heaven.”

  The words echoed—heavy, final.

  Cheers followed.

  But hesitation burned in her throat like hot coal.

  Her grip tightened.

  A queen does not retreat after giving an order.

  Aura stood behind her, watching silently.

  she thought.

  But she said nothing.

  Then the air trembled.

  A familiar presence cut through the underworld like a blade.

  Arlen arrived.

  Alone.

  He didn’t waste time.

  “Tethys has another task,” he said.

  “And Nyx—let her rest. Don’t tell her about the war.”

  Aura flinched but nodded.

  “The external gods will engage Vulcan and the higher gods of Heaven,” Arlen continued, voice calm, surgical.

  “Aura, you’ll lead the demon army. Annihilate the lesser gods and angels.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “Hephaestus will likely command them.”

  Then he turned to Cornea.

  “You’re coming with me.”

  Her eyes widened slightly.

  “To fight Chronos,” he said.

  “And your job is to the angel by his side.”

  Cornea inhaled sharply.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Wasn’t she—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence.”

  His voice cut her off—flat, absolute.

  “She’s the reason Dryas died.”

  “She’s the reason Grom sacrificed himself.”

  “She’s the reason Nyx is dying.”

  His crimson eye burned.

  “Do you need another reason?”

  Cornea understood.

  If Arlen killed Chloe himself, it wouldn’t be quick.

  It wouldn’t be merciful.

  Letting her kill Chloe——was his twisted form of kindness.

  A painless end.

  Given by someone else.

  “Cornea. Aura,” he continued, already turning away,

  “Don’t engage in prolonged fights. Use the army. Use the external gods. Don’t exhaust yourselves.”

  A pause.

  Then, quietly—deadly calm—

  “Now let’s go.”

  He stepped forward.

  “It’s time to carve a path through Heaven.”

  The underworld trembled.

  And the war began.

  A colossal portal tore open the sky.

  From it poured the demonic army.

  Not soldiers.

  Not subjects.

  But beings whose freedom had been stolen

  Their eyes burned—not with madness—but with purpose.

  Heaven trembled.

  Arlen had sent Aeon

  “Go, tell Heaven this—.”

  A false truth.

  A deliberate one.

  And Heaven swallowed it whole.

  When the gates opened and the armies clashed, Heaven didn’t just lose—

  it collapsed

  Angels fell screaming.

  Lesser gods were torn apart.

  Divine light drowned beneath demon blood.

  Under Aura’s command

  For the first time, she wasn’t standing behind a queen.

  She one.

  Even if only for this war.

  And Heaven—crippled by the loss of two throne holders—could not endure it.

  Arlen didn’t slow down.

  Didn’t look back.

  He walked straight through the carnage.

  Toward the heart of Heaven.

  Cornea followed at his side.

  Behind them, dragged like offerings to execution, came the external gods—

  Termina. Mnemos. Barys. Aeon.

  Slaves now.

  Just as they once kept others.

  Then—

  A golden gate opened.

  Its light cut through the battlefield like judgment.

  A calm voice echoed.

  “I never thought you would survive, God Slayer. And to think the demon queen came herself to my domain – how convenient. No need to search for you insects myself.”

  Arlen stepped through.

  The world shifted.

  A familiar sight awaited him.

  Chronos sat upon his throne.

  Unmoving.

  Unbothered.

  At his feet—kneeling in devotion—sat Chloe

  She rose the moment she saw them.

  “I won’t allow you to hurt my lord, you demon!” she cried.

  Her angelic wings spread wide, trembling with faith.

  For Arlen—

  It was the same line.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  It meant nothing now, just the same annoying repetition.

  He didn’t answer.

  Didn’t even look at her.

  He walked past her.

  Straight toward Chronos.

  “Stop, monster—!”

  The sentence never finished.

  The world spun for Chloe.

  And then—

  Darkness.

  Cornea stood behind her.

  Her blade dripped with angelic blood.

  One flick.

  That was all it took.

  The head of Arlen’s first love fell to the marble floor.

  Chronos watched.

  Not with anger.

  With curiosity.

  “Wasn’t she your first love?” he asked calmly.

  “What made you abandon her?”

  Arlen raised Soul Eater

  Behind it, the Anchor of Causality

  “She was irrelevant.”