Hexin walked the path as if the world itself parted before him—no resistance, no obstacles, not even a whisper of opposition as he reached the final chamber.

Thanks to how much this building mirrored the architecture of the Supreme Theological Council, who else in this world could understand its layout better than the supreme god himself? Of course—no one.

He marched straight into the heart of the building, the central council chamber, and shoved the grand doors open with the muzzle of his gun.

With a drawn-out creak, brilliant light poured through the heavy doorway like a torrent, flooding the space beyond in stark illumination, revealing a vast hall.

The hall was opulent—like a grand amphitheater cloaked in extravagance. The wind billowed through the open doors, tossing the curtains high, brushing past the tall, ornate back of a chair. There were nine such chairs in total, encircling a massive round table at the centre. The entire setup radiated sheer authority.

…Nine?

Ah, a perfect replica of the Divine Council. Whoever built this place must’ve had a fixation on the divine—was it about culture? Or power?

Hexin barged in right in the middle of a meeting.

Nine figures sat around the table—men and women, old and young—but all of them, like the building’s exterior, gleamed with a false brilliance.

Almost the instant the door swung open, they all turned to look—thanks to the chamber’s wide-open design, there was no way to miss the intruder.

“Who goes there?!” Shock hadn’t even left their faces yet.

The fastest to react was a plump, blonde woman. “You—you’re that intruder…?!”

Thanks to Hexin’s legendary rampage en route here, internal communications across the Theological Society had all but collapsed.

Just then, a panicked guard scrambled in, breathless and hoarse: “Lords, the enemy has breached our defenses and is heading this way. You must evacu—huh?!”

His words died the moment he saw Hexin. He stared for two stunned seconds before tremblingly raising a hand. “How… how did you get here so fast?!”

This man—he knew the layout better than someone who’d worked here every day. He moved through it like it was his own home.

No one answered.

Hexin glanced around the familiar chamber, the way everything was arranged. His mind drifted to the real Council—probably still buried somewhere in the Divine Domain—and for a fleeting second, a strange fondness flickered in his expression.

He walked calmly to the central round table, gun in hand.

And the moment he approached, the seated nine all rose to their feet.

They’d seen fragments of his power in previous reports—cold, brutal, impossible to forget. The data from their defeats alone made it clear what kind of overwhelming force they were dealing with. The fact they were still standing here instead of fleeing was simply the last shred of courage honed by years atop the hierarchy.

“…Sir, may we ask why you’ve chosen to break into our Theological Society alone?” asked a middle-aged man standing beside the blonde woman.

He watched Hexin’s every step like his life depended on it, the strain in his voice betraying how little composure he actually had.

“You’ve acted in our name long enough,” Hexin said lazily, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched them inch away with every step he took.

They’d backed up completely now. All nine seats were empty.

Hexin made a beeline for the one he knew best.

The Council of gods had fixed seats. Each supreme g had a designated spot, for reasons steeped in lore. The war god’s seat? First to the right of the sun god, starting clockwise from due east. And that eastern seat belonged, of course, to the sun god himself.

In full view of everyone, Hexin stepped onto the seat—treated the ornate, gilded symbol of power like garbage—and sat down on the table itself, one leg up.

Never mind the sacrilege of that pose—their minds were still reeling from what he’d said.

That outfit. That weapon. That specific seat…

The clues piled too high. A figure began to take shape in their minds—so vividly and unanimously that they all froze.

And maybe it was that very possibility, too terrible to bear, that drained the colour from several faces at once.

“No… no way, it can’t be!” someone screamed inside.

Until now, they’d seen Hexin as a rebellious, god-touched upstart—perhaps one blessed by a high-tier deity, likely aligned with the supreme faction. They’d had doubts about his look, sure, but across the stars, many zealots had modeled themselves after gods. The Nine-Star Synod alone had a whole swarm of knights like that. So those doubts had never grown into real suspicion.

But now, that faint doubt erupted like a seed bursting into a towering tree—its branches lashing their nerves until their minds felt like mush.

“War—war—war…”

Not everyone accepted it right away. A few still resisted. But the blonde woman was the quickest to grasp it, despite her hoarse voice now rasping like an old crone—it didn’t match her beautiful facade at all.

Hexin propped his chin on one hand and smirked. “Wow, took you long enough to recognize me.”

His words sent a shudder through the group. The middle-aged man snapped out of it, eyes wild. “No! That’s impossible! The supreme god couldn’t possibly be here! It’s not possible!”

“Eh, sorry,” Hexin said, almost cheerfully. “I’m just that kind of unconventional god.”

The pomp, the rules, the lines drawn between gods—none of that meant anything to him. The war god always acted when he was annoyed or intrigued. That this group happened to run into this identity of his? Well, tough luck. Even the heavens must be tired of them.

And then came the final blow.

A communicator on the round table crackled to life with a piercing “zzzt-zzzt.” Everyone’s eyes flew to it. On the other end, a voice broke through in fragments—a field agent from Skyfall who had finally managed to reach HQ.

“Skyfall… primeval beast… gun…” The words were garbled—but the last sentence was a crystal-clear, desperate scream.

“If you see a man with a silver gun—don’t attack! That’s the war god! The real, the true—god!!!”

Everyone: Why didn’t you say that sooner?!

Hexin knocked over one of the chairs with a loud crack. That sharp sound landed like a blow to the chest—several of them collapsed, drained of every ounce of strength.

BOOM—!

A massive hole ripped open in the dome above.

A jet-black dragon thrust its head in. Its claws, sharp as blades, casually tore the building apart. Its scorching breath mingled with a suffocating aura, dragging everyone into a nightmare like volcanic fire.

Its crimson slit-pupils scanned the hall—cold, merciless.

And everyone knew immediately—this was a real monster. One that could end them all in an instant, no question.

Yet now, it barely spared them a glance. Its eyes locked only on Hexin.

And then—this ancient terror bowed.

The dragon lowered its massive head in front of Hexin, opened its jaws, and dropped something at his feet. It spoke in a voice that shook the air: “Found this beneath the castle.”

Even before they could process that, everyone’s expressions changed.

On the floor lay a broken vessel, the inside stained with a greenish fluid. Its structure cracked—whatever had been inside was long gone.

—Hexin’s entourage had arrived.

The earth trembled as Dique burst from below, shredding the floor tiles like paper. The earth beast, shaggy and absurdly durable, nonchalantly rubbed against Hexin’s side. It ignored Mondo’s narrowed eyes and gnawed on a bamboo stick from who-knew-where.

“I’m the one who found it. See? Digging holes really does turn up treasure.”

—Another monster had arrived.

With a thunderous crash, Tide Si kicked through the wall. The deep-blue sea beast strode in from the shattered hole, tossing a limp humanoid onto the ground.

He sneered, voice full of disgust. “Treasure? Just more filth. I wouldn’t even eat that.”

As Tide Si entered, the air turned damp—thick with a suffocating, oceanic humidity.

Power warped the world with his presence.

And everyone inside could only ask themselves—what level of existence was this?

These colossal beasts that had suddenly appeared filled the entire space in an instant. Even the air thinned under their presence, making it difficult to breathe—suffocating, even.

And it didn’t stop there. The blonde woman, frozen stiff, followed the line of heated breath cascading from above—and saw even more enormous creatures. One after another, they were poking heads or limbs into the castle through every possible opening.

One particularly close creature twitched its nose. Its eyes, slit like an amphibian’s, swiveled toward them.

“You look delicious.”

Everyone: ！！！

This army, made entirely of monsters, had converged from all directions with Hexin at its centre—shielding him, honouring him, as though he were the very axis upon which the universe spun.

Countless wings, leathery and feathered, drooped from above, brushing away the dust in the air for the young man. Every feral, violent instinct halted in reverence—because of him alone.

—He was the only lock holding back all these monsters.

Outside the castle, the skies were crowded with small ships—so densely packed they nearly blotted out the sun. But not one dared approach. They hovered in place, suspended like frozen models.

The zoomed-in lenses aboard those ships captured everything below. And so, the guards who served the higher-ups now saw the disgraceful spectacle their leaders had become. A wave of absurdity and horror rolled through them.

Some of them—until moments ago unaware of anything—now stood stunned into silence. The shattered glass vessel, the monsters, and Hexin standing at their centre… it was too much to process.

One person tried to tilt a cannon downward, and several others immediately lunged at him, faces contorted like demons. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Didn’t you hear them admit who he is?!”

“—That’s a god!!!”

A god who could judge them, slay them, banish their souls—like crushing an ant.

What had they done before? What had they done to offend a god? They were dead for sure. And now, now, you dare raise a weapon at him? How dare you be so disrespectful?!

At the round table, Hexin remained the only one still seated.

The primal beasts lowered their heads, awaiting his command.

“Human experimentation?” His voice was calm. “Trying to create artificial god-marked… or even artificial gods?”

In that instant, the entire chamber turned into a theatre of grotesque expressions—mouths hanging open in shock, their voices turning into inhuman wheezes.

The blonde woman stumbled forward and collapsed at his feet. “I’m sorry! Forgive me, I confess everything!”

The middle-aged man and others couldn’t withstand the crushing pressure any longer. One by one, they dropped to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably, bowing low as if performing a sacred rite. “We… we also…”

“I’m not interested in your repentance,” Hexin said coolly. He glanced toward Mondo. “They’re an eyesore. Take care of it.”

Human ethics weren’t his domain, and he had no desire to get involved. Easier to just shoot them.

Though frankly, his gun was too good for them.

Mondo, who had long disguised himself in human form among the stars, knew exactly what to do.

Those unfortunate failed test subjects still clinging to life—they would be more than happy to welcome their creators.

As the captives were dragged away, their screams barely registered for Hexin. He ignored the ships frozen above just the same. Sitting there with his gun, his very presence projected a pressure so heavy, no one dared approach.

Then, suddenly—a rip tore through the void. A divine figure stepped out, bathed in radiant light.

A golden city flickered behind him for a moment—just a glimpse was enough for everyone to recognize his identity. The air fell still, as though the world were holding its breath.

This newcomer, like Hexin, treated everything and everyone else as nonexistent.

The sun god walked over and stood beside him. His voice was soft. “Upset?”

Hexin cast him a side glance. “I thought they might be worth my attention. Turns out they were just filth that sullied my eyes.”

It was like getting hyped for a new game, only to discover it looked nothing like the trailer. If he’d known it’d be this disappointing, he wouldn’t have bothered. And that experiment… just thinking about the aura from that vessel left a bad taste in his mouth. He wondered how that guy would react if he saw it.

The sun god smiled faintly. “Want me to help?”

“Hm? You trying to pick a fight with me?” Hexin gave him a once-over, then drawled, “’Cause if you are, I might stop being mad.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The sun god sighed. “I would never raise my hand against you. Not now, not ever.”

A flicker of amusement danced in the war g’s eyes, though he still said, “Stubborn.”

The sun god didn’t mind the label. If anything, he seemed a little pleased by it. He swept his gaze over the scene. “Let’s get to the point. What are you going to do with these primal beasts?”

The named beasts all stiffened reflexively—then looked pleadingly at Hexin.

Once hunted by the gods, they had no love for any god besides the war god. They were barely suppressing the urge to attack the newcomer. And the sun god—one of the gods who had once agreed to their eradication—was only holding back now because of Hexin.

Hexin didn’t even blink. “The Divine Domain is in ruins. Since we’re rebuilding, we’ll need labour. Put them to work hauling bricks.”

The primal beasts: …???

But the sun god wasn’t fooled. He nodded knowingly. “So, you’re protecting them after all.”

Hexin tilted his head. “You object?”

The sun god stepped in front of the eastern chair—the sun god’s seat—and ran his fingers lightly over its back. After a long pause, he smiled and shook his head. “No. I’m in.”

Nothing had changed in ten thousand years, the sun god thought.

Back then, in the middle of a Divine Council meeting, this man had stormed in alone—refused to discuss anything else—and demanded the primal beasts be spared. The sun god had already cast his vote in favour of extermination. And what had he done?

He switched sides instantly. Walked over to the war g’s side and stood beside him, facing off against the rest of the Council without a flicker of doubt.

“Apologies, everyone,” he’d said with a smile. “It’s two against seven now.”

—What else could he do?

—Stand with him, of course.

“Alright, let’s go,” Hexin hopped off the round table and slung the silver gun over his shoulder. “Don’t feel like staying here anyway.”

The sun god watched his friend, vibrant and untamed, gold eyes glinting. He raised a brow. “Feeling better now?”

The war god raised his chin and grinned. “Was I ever not in a good mood? Let me borrow Sun City for a bit—it’s too much trouble moving all these beasts one by one.”

The sun god frowned. “My city is a sacred place. Only the devout may enter. It’s not a delivery truck.”

“Oh?” the war god grinned, eyes narrowing playfully. “So?”

“…Fine,” the sun god sighed, resigned. “Tell me the coordinates.”

—What else could he do?

—Go with him, of course.