This took place a few days after Hexin returned to the abyss.

The familiar sea of flowers was in fuller bloom than it had been even ten thousand years ago—soft pastels so vibrant it almost hurt to look at them. Hexin lounged in the palace behind the bloom, seated upon the throne, his chin resting in one hand. He appeared to be daydreaming, but in truth, he was flipping through the system interface.

He tapped one by one on the four character cards in his hand. Over the past few days, he had delegated each one to separate autopilots. That’s when he discovered: each card had its own dedicated autopilot.

The system explained: “Even with delegation, simulating the actions of a single supreme god using all available resources is already pushing limits. Different supreme gods require entirely separate autopilots.”

Moreover, for example, if the autopilot assigned to the sun god wanted to switch over to manage another supreme god, that wasn’t going to happen. Each autopilot database could only fully support one at a time—try to run more, and you’d crash the system.

At least they’re loyal, Hexin thought. That’s nice.

In addition, the system had unlocked a new feature: [Chatroom]. This function only appeared when the user held cards from two or more factions—which he now did, with both divine realm and abyss characters.

He tried it out. Because the chatroom was structured like a simple text box simulation, it barely consumed any faith points.

And it turned out to be surprisingly fun.

Hexin could log in as any of his high god identities and chat with his other personas—delegating tasks, exchanging updates, discussing plans, answering questions… or just thinking through problems from multiple perspectives.

—Also known as: my own personal inner monologue stage play.

[T/N: lol]

The first time he logged in, he was wearing the skin of the god of beauty. The moment he entered, the god of war @mentioned him.

War god: [Heard your brother’s awake. When are you coming back to the divine realm? We’re short on hands rebuilding everything over here.]

Apparently, it was well known by now—when it came to the dream-and-beauty twins, you never got just one. If one was missing, the other’s priority was always to find their twin. Which is why the gods waited until the two had reunited before issuing the recall.

The relationship between the war god and the god of beauty was actually decent. Maybe it had something to do with their shared awkward status in the divine era—one an ex-abyssal variant, the other an original beast. They had a sort of kindred understanding. Occasional conversations weren’t exactly warm, but not hostile either.

Beauty god: [Wow. You’re talking about work? That’s rare.]

—Wasn’t this the same guy who always left divine meetings early, skipped sessions, and ran at the first sign of paperwork?

War god: [Everything’s getting dumped on him now. He’s stuck alone in the sun palace, buried under endless documents. It pisses me off just looking at it.]

Sun god: [It’s not that bad. I’m used to it now…]

War god: [Wow, sorry for being the only one not used to it.]

Sun god: [Friend, that’s not what I meant! Let me explain!] Erkang hands.jpg

…Why were there stickers in this chatroom??

Hexin quietly made a note: I want those too.

He didn’t know why, but hanging out with these two always made him feel like the odd one out. Sadly, the dream god hadn’t logged in.

Beauty god: [I’d love to help, but I’m busy coaxing my brother to sleep.]

War god: […?]

Sun god, instantly smoothing things over: [Friend, stay calm. Don’t pull a weapon. He probably means the dream god’s powers are still unstable after awakening, and the beauty god’s helping stabilize him.]

Beauty god: [Yeah, lately he keeps visiting the dreams of some green-eyed experiment subject. Now that guy’s got a stable new life, and it’s finally settled down. But now Eios keeps sneaking into my brother’s dreams. I’ve had to remove more and more corrupted junk lately. Honestly, it’s exhausting.]

War god: [Eios? That name sounds familiar. Who is he again?]

Sun god: [Friend… he’s one of the current de facto abyssal overseers. I told you a few days ago.]

War god: [Oh, the white-flag twins. The brother’s even worse than the brother. Got it.]

The sun god’s divine light illuminated everything. He might not bother with details, but he’d been updated.

Sun god: [It’s understandable he got matched up against the god of beauty…]

War god: [Sounds like karma from eight lifetimes.]

Sun god: [Friend…]

Even though it was only a text exchange, it wasn’t hard to imagine the sun god on the other end wearing that familiar expression—helpless, indulgent. If he hadn’t been around, the war god would’ve probably just snorted in agreement and left it there. After all, the beauty god’s charm was undeniable. Unless you were a supreme god, most wouldn’t even last a glance.

But for some reason, whenever the sun god was nearby, the war god seemed to let loose completely, unbothered by anything, showing the truest version of himself.

Because trust given without reservation always breeds a kind of reckless favouritism.

The beauty god pretended not to see the way the two of them bantered.

Beauty god: [Anyway, you know the situation. I won’t be leaving the abyss anytime soon. And during this time, you don’t need to worry about it causing trouble either. The dream god’s awake—I’ve gone to find him.]

Sun god: [Wait—I just wanted to ask something about your older brother, the chaos god—]

But before the message could send, a notification popped up:

System Alert: [Administrator Beauty god has set a rule: ‘Sun god and War god may not be online at the same time for 24 hours. One will be randomly muted.’ Current member Sun god has been muted.]

War god: […???]

Hexin quietly exited the chatroom and opened his card interface.

The system prompt to “Unlock New Character Card” was flashing in the corner, practically begging to be tapped.

By now, Hexin had gotten the hang of this. Still, right before pulling, he whispered a silent prayer to the chaos god. It would be nice to have the three brothers reunited. And to be honest, he was very curious about the form the chaos god might take.

[Random Card Draw In Progress…]

As Hexin activated the pull, the interface began to whirl rapidly. A brilliant burst of light engulfed the screen, filling everything with radiant white. Then, from within the glow, the card’s face gradually appeared.

The moment Hexin saw that familiar child on the card, he knew—he’d hit the jackpot.

Big brother’s here! Drawing from the chaos god’s limited banner as the beauty god, and it didn’t even go off-banner? Incredible.

The card depicted a child, around ten years old. But calling him a child felt… wrong. He wore an ornate black court robe with a crimson mantle embroidered in golden thread. A snowy fur collar framed his neck.

That small figure bore the heavy robes with absolute grace. He wore a black-and-gold crown atop his head, seated upon a throne that gleamed with divine light. One hand idly played with a sceptre, while the other propped up his chin in lazy contemplation.

Even through the screen, he stared outward—lips curved in a near-smirk. Innocent, at first glance. But in those deep violet eyes lurked unmistakable pride, mischief, and something faintly dangerous.

To the left of the card, the system helpfully displayed a character summary:

“As you can see—though he is the eldest of the three brothers, his appearance would never suggest it. The immense power gifted to him by the abyss drastically slowed his growth, making him look like the youngest of the three.”

“He is the most beloved child of the abyss. In any domain tied to the abyss, his power is near-omnipotent. But instead of staying sheltered in his mother’s care, he prefers to venture out and explore the world.”

“He created a colossal labyrinth and ninety-nine unique demons, each possessing strength comparable to or exceeding that of lesser gods. All of them are immortal and bound to him. Though such creations would typically resemble a sun-god-to-celestial-race kind of relationship, the chaos god treats them as servants. They call him ‘Your Majesty,’ or simply ‘Father’—resulting in one of the most bizarre creator-creation dynamics among the gods.”

The entry continued, sharing a few scattered tales from the age of the gods. Most of it matched what Hexin already knew from Chronicles of the Divine Pantheon, so he skimmed down to the final note:

“—Less like a god, more like a spoiled, tyrannical child-king in disguise.”

Hexin: Hmm. Accurate.

In Chronicles of the Divine Pantheon, the chaos god’s appearances were rare. Given his childlike form, Hexin always had to rely on heavy post-production magic effects when portraying him. Of course, the chaos god could also temporarily transform into an adult—a simple trick for a god. In fact, most beings had only ever seen his adult form. His childlike appearance was known only to his brothers and a few others.

Despite his limited appearances, his presence was constant—referenced in the dialogue of many, invoked in reverent tones as “that majesty.” A classic final boss type, always lurking behind the scenes.

To clarify, Hexin added internally: He may look like a villain, but he’s not a bad guy. At worst, chaotic neutral. (Serious face.)

He turned the card over in his hand again and again. Eventually, he figured that once activated, the transformation would match the child form displayed. And with that rare glint of playful curiosity in his eyes, he chose “Confirm Card Change.”

As strands of black hair, dark as midnight, fell gently over his face, the boy suddenly appeared within the palace.

He opened his violet eyes.

In those endless depths shimmered the glow of countless unseen worlds—enough to drown anyone who dared meet his gaze.

Crimson robes swept around his small frame. He flicked the heavy cloak behind him with casual ease.

Hexin was still adjusting to his now-smaller body.

But he forgot—

This was the abyss.