Hexin suddenly lifted his head, a movement so unexpected that everyone around him momentarily paused in surprise.

No one had ever seen the golden god wear such an expression before—astonishment mixed with joy. His radiant eyes seemed to pierce through the drifting clouds above, gazing into a realm no one else could ever reach.

“…My god, has something happened?”
The Celestials, always attuned to the sun god’s every gesture, unfolded their wings nervously.

The sun god’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“It’s a good thing,” he murmured, exhaling slowly, as though relieved. “I just felt it… a friend of mine has awakened.”

Did you hear what the system just said?

—A new character card!

Hexin hadn’t expected to unlock another one so soon. Judging by the energy, this was likely another supreme god. Even better? This one was an ally.

He flipped open the card, revealing a new interface only he could see.

Unlike the warm, sunlit hues of the sun god card, this new one was draped in black and red. It radiated danger. Intensity. Everything about this god screamed: do not approach.

Dressed in a fitted outfit of deep crimson and ink-black armor, with sleek plated gauntlets and a cinched waist belt, he lounged on a throne with one hand gripping a silver spear—the only touch of bright colour on him. The other hand rested lazily on the armrest, legs crossed.

That expression—part smirk, part warning—those abyssal, predator’s eyes gazing out with the casual confidence of a beast that had just finished its kill… Like a lion licking blood from its claws, already scanning for its next prey.

Thankfully, this was still just a card.
If Hexin chose to manifest it now, the sheer force of battle-hardened killing intent it would unleash could stop the hearts of everything in the vicinity.

This character was carnage incarnate.
He looked like the final boss of an entire saga.
But according to the lore of god of gods, this war god was one of the sun god’s closest companions—described often, even affectionately, as a “dear friend.”

As Hexin recalled that character’s iconic moments from the series, the people around him had a very different reaction to what he’d said.

—A friend of the sun god.

And not just rumour. The sun god himself had said so. Out loud.

This was not something one could take lightly.

For the Celestials—gods’ creations—it was easier to accept. If their god said so, then so be it. In fact, they were already feeling grateful to this unseen friend, just for being someone who could make their god smile so sincerely. They hadn’t even met him yet and were already half ready to accept him as one of their own.

The only one capable of viewing things outside that creator-worship lens—the Celestial king—remained silent. His eyes lowered, then flicked upward as if reconsidering something, wings twitching faintly… but then, without a word, he folded them back.

Ah… whoever he is, if he makes god happy, that’s enough.

Xia Zie, who had been watching this all unfold while hoping Xingxuan might say something, was left hanging: “…”

Bracing himself, Xia Zie raised a hand awkwardly.
“May I ask… the friend you mentioned… could it be… the kill god?”

There. He said it.

Truth be told, that wasn’t the first name that had come to Xia Zie’s mind. According to the myths he knew, the sun god had plenty of ties to deities on the light side. But this time—something felt different. The sun god’s reaction wasn’t what he’d expect from those usual companions.

Hexin: Well yeah, pulling an SSR—how could I not be thrilled?

And so Xia Zie’s thoughts had veered somewhere more extreme. The first figure that came to mind was the infamous war god of legend.

Hexin corrected gently, “The so-called ‘kill god’ is a mortal-given title. His true name is the war god—named for the idea that one man alone is equal to ten thousand troops.”

Xia Zie: …That’s a serious understatement.
Not just ten thousand—entire armies of monstrous divine beasts had knelt before that silver spear.

Now that Hexin had confirmed it, Xia Zie couldn’t hold back. His chest rose and fell sharply a few times before his expression suddenly became distant and dazed.

Hexin began to wonder—was aesthetic taste in this universe that different from Blue Star?
Because back on Blue Star, the war god had insane popularity.

Still, it was his new persona—Hexin felt compelled to give him a proper introduction.
“He’s different from most gods,” Hexin said lightly, “but he has his own principles. You don’t need to be so nervous.”

“He’s not nervous. He’s excited,” Xingxuan said, giving Xia Zie a sidelong glance. When he turned back to Hexin, the cold edge in his eyes had melted like thawing glaciers—suddenly warm and soft. “To warriors like him, the war god means something else entirely.”

“They see the war god as the ultimate embodiment of strength. A protector. A guide.”

“Thanks to the myths left behind from the age of gods, many planets today regard the war god as the symbol of their armed forces. They paint his image on their banners, hoping for protection.”

Just like merchants pray to the wealth god, and students wish for a study god—or if all else fails, a lucky koi charm.

The Celestials nodded in agreement.
“Our battle flags have the sun on them!”

Hexin: So the war god still has a pretty good reputation in this era, huh?

Xia Zie, finally calming down from his emotional rollercoaster, let out a breath. Honestly, if he hadn’t already spent so much time around Hexin’s sun god, he might not have recovered at all.

“Just like he said.” Xia Zie scratched his nose a little sheepishly. “To be honest, the reason I joined the military in the first place… was because I grew up hearing stories about the war god defeating monsters. I wanted to go to the frontlines and fight the aberrants too.”

In those countless childhood tales, that figure who always appeared in the nick of time to turn the tide of battle—sweeping away swarms of monsters with a single silver spear—he was every young warrior’s first dream, the very image of what it meant to be strong.

Hexin realized his concern had been pointless. The filter these people had on the war god was thicker than the one they had for the sun god himself. As someone who actually knew what the war god was like, he suddenly found himself at a rare loss for words.

As their conversation came to a close, Xia Zie hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Since you’re here… does that mean the war god will be coming too?”

Facing the hopeful yet uncertain look in the soldier’s eyes, Hexin offered a meaningful smile.
“Maybe.”

Later, as Hexin returned to the Divine Domain aboard Sun City, the Celestial king and the captains—including Minta—stayed behind to exchange one last round of information.

Of course, they all wanted to follow Hexin without pause. But the truth was, everyone seated there held important positions within the starfield. They couldn’t just walk away from their responsibilities. There were still matters to handle.

“Has the official announcement about the sun god’s return been released?”

“Not yet, but the final draft is ready. If the king signs off on it, we can push it to the entire universe… though, should we include the war god’s awakening too?”

“No need. That’s not our place,” the Celestial king replied, eyes flickering. “According to the god, two of the supreme gods have now returned. The second may not have appeared yet, but this isn’t the end—it’s the beginning.”

“You mean…”

The king’s gaze turned toward the direction the god had gone, as though through drifting clouds and soft wind, he could already see the world awakening—prosperity blooming, an endless scroll unfurling before them.
“A new future. The age of the gods has begun again. They’re returning. This universe is about to erupt.”

•  

Several days later, Xia Zie walked alone up to the high cliffs near Central City.

This was the place where he had once brought Hexin during the festival—a spot he had always loved for its view. And now, after everything that had happened, he found he loved it even more.

Walking beside him was a handsome young man: Rog.

Rog had returned to Baihe Star just the day before. He and Xia Zie had once joined the military together, venturing off to serve. But while Xia Zie had chosen to return home mid-service and stayed on Baihe Star, Rog had remained in the army.

As they walked, Rog chatted easily.
“…I used to think it was such a waste. With your talent—3S-class mental strength—you’re a rare gem even by Central Star standards. If you hadn’t left the military, you’d probably be stationed on an imperial-grade planet by now. But who could’ve guessed—!”

“I have my own path,” Xia Zie smiled. “I still prefer life here on Baihe Star. What about you? It’s been years, and you barely come back. Too busy?”

“Me? Same old, really. Things have been stable between the starfields lately. I mostly train and take low-level aberrant missions. But a while ago, there was this sudden shake-up in command—they started looking for anyone from Baihe Star like crazy. I said I was, and next thing I know, I’m being granted leave. They told me I was the luckiest bastard alive and gave me these weird looks. I asked around and—bam. Sun god appeared on our planet. I was floored. Some brat even caught a photo of my dumbfounded face and said it makes the perfect meme for when you’re down and need a laugh!”

Rog ground his teeth, but then suddenly grinned. “Hah. Let them envy me. That’s all they can do.” He clapped Xia Zie on the shoulder and sighed. “Never thought I’d see the day. Our Baihe Star, of all places. When I was flying in, I even saw real Celestials in the sky. First time I’ve seen them in person, not on a screen. Word is, they’re planning to develop and reform this whole sector. I’m gonna try to transfer here when I get back—do my part.”

Xia Zie laughed as he listened to his long-lost friend’s enthusiastic plans. But then, Rog fell quiet for a moment.

He asked softly, “Hey… Xia Zie, were you there? When the sun god descended? Did you… see it? Did you actually… see him?”

His voice trembled. He had probably wanted to ask this from the very start. But now that the words were out, his emotion made them shake.

Xia Zie knew the answer would matter deeply.

Right now, all across the star network, aside from a few sanitized official releases, actual footage had been tightly classified. The Celestials clearly had their reasons, but that didn’t stop people from speculating—and the silence only made the fever worse.

Xia Zie had watched the network crash in real time when the announcement dropped. Even now, typing “sun god” into any search bar practically brought his connection to its knees. Forums, threads, chatrooms—every second, thousands of new comments. The hype hadn’t slowed in the slightest.

In such an environment, Xia Zie couldn’t very well say something like:

“Actually, I brought the sun god back.”
“I spoke with him.”
“I watched the Celestials kneel before him.”
“I even met their king, thanks to the sun god’s favour.”

No. Those were the kinds of “truths” that could send a person into cardiac arrest on the spot.

He was just trying to come up with a gentler version when he realized Rog had stopped walking.

Rog stood still, eyes locked on the cliff ahead.

There—at their destination—stood a man.

His long black robes billowed in the wind, embroidered with red markings like flowing magma or living flame. Ice-cold armor glinted with a chill light, and with the faintest turn of his body, the plates clinked sharply.

When the man finally turned to face them, the pressure that rolled out froze the very air.

His gaze swept over them—and Rog felt as if he had fallen into a firestorm burning atop a mountain of bones. A flame so hot, it incinerated even death.

It was searing. It was crimson. It was absolute.

Then the man spoke.

“I’m looking for the sun god.”