Hexin hadn’t expected to be just a step too late.

He had been deliberating over which card to use when he suddenly noticed the mountain crumbling as the primal beasts began to awaken—and someone was in danger. To him, saving people was effortless. So why not save them?

Even if it wasn’t his own decision—even if he were simply following the war god persona—he would’ve still saved them.

After all, this was a god who cared little for pomp and circumstance. In his eyes, all life had equal weight. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shielded the primal beasts from the other gods all those ages ago. Not that he was any selfless, all-loving protector of the world—it was more that, if the moment arose, and he didn’t dislike the party involved, he’d lend a hand.

So Hexin had taken a little detour—ran into that same little girl with the camera, funnily enough. Fate, huh?

And when he returned—

Oh? They were fighting already?

Seriously now. They hadn’t seen each other in ten thousand years. Shouldn’t the first thing be a heartfelt reunion? A proper catch-up about everything that had changed in the universe, maybe even a little nostalgic reminiscing about their glory days?

There were so many things they could be doing.

But no. First thing they chose to do was rip each other apart.

And the worst part was—once this battle was done, where in the universe would there still be a place for them?

They were relics of a forgotten age. Creatures with strength terrifying enough to shake history. The moment they reappeared, they were everyone’s enemy. Look at what they’d done already—just by waking up, they’d managed to terrify every soldier on the field.

Unless another war god appeared to protect and restrain them… the outcome was obvious.

Just like ten thousand years ago—the world would rise against them.

Which card to use?
Hexin didn’t need to think anymore.

He slowly raised his silver spear.

A gentle, almost amused smile touched his lips.

Then the spear, wrapped in his unrestrained divine pressure, shot out like a falling star.

It pierced through sky and sea.
The ocean erupted. Waves exploded skyward, then came crashing down in a storm like a sudden, endless downpour.

And then—silence.

The ocean—moments ago boiling with battle—froze.

All the beasts stilled mid-motion, suspended awkwardly in the air.

Some had their jaws wide open, still drooling, as if ready to bite into their enemies—but now just hung there, stunned, with their fangs bared like caricatures of themselves.

Even the flying ones had stopped flapping. Something so natural it was unconscious—like breathing—had been forgotten.

If one looked closer, they would see the fur on their wings standing stiff and on end, bent into awkward angles like shocked static.

—What… what was that feeling? That strange, nostalgic terror crawling down their spines?

—Something flew past… something silver… What was it?

Every hair on their bodies screamed. Shivered.

—Ah. No doubt. That energy. That power… it was—!!

On the mountain road near the Four-Pillar Tower, soldiers halted. Their gazes locked on the ocean.

Even the most battle-hardened psionics among them were rattled by the waves of emotion pulsing from that single point on the sea.

Rog shot a glance that way—but his eyes snapped back to the tower, where Hexin stood.

And he saw it: that small smile at the corner of Hexin’s lips.

Hexin: praise be to peaceful annihilation.

The same enigmatic young man from before… stood alone, calmly facing ten thousand beasts, unmoved by the army behind him or the chaos at sea. The ease in his posture made Rog’s heart pound wildly.

Hadn’t he said it before?
No one could stop those monsters. No one could touch them. Unless the war god returned.

—Unless the war god returned!

It had been a careless line.
Now it echoed like prophecy.

Rog, perhaps the only one at the scene who truly saw the full picture, looked around at the others—his soldiers still stunned by the ocean’s fury, the primal beasts still ignorant of the truth—and suddenly felt that deep, crushing pressure:

Everyone is drunk. And I alone am awake.

But damn, what a thrill.

His fingers curled tight. His throat burned. But he couldn’t take another step toward Hexin. Partly out of reverence—partly because his knees had gone soft.

Maybe it was time to @ Xia Zie, who practically collapsed on sight the first time he met the sun god. Good brothers think and fall alike.

Then—like a tape clicking back into place—the paused image over the ocean began to move again.

Motion returned to the beasts.

And only now did everyone realize—

That deafening, apocalyptic clash earlier?

That wasn’t even a real fight.

Just beasts tussling after a nap.

Just one of countless forgettable scraps from their ancient, endless history.

The brawl had started from bloodlust and old grudges. But now—those grudges, that heat, all seemed crushed under the weight of some invisible force.

Every single primal beast, whether skyborne or sea-dwelling, suddenly moved in unison.

The most solitary of creatures—beings who lived and fought alone for eons—now acted as one.

—They all surged toward the ocean floor.

Even the massive sky beasts, who hated moisture to their core—who’d bristle at the faintest hint of humidity, who grew violent and agitated at the mere taste of damp air—plunged into the cold depths without hesitation. Soaked feathers clung to their limbs, yet they didn’t care at all.

Where…

Where had that silver spear fallen!?

It was like a hammer to the skull. That fleeting but bone-deep aura—it had pulled them all to it like gravity. Not a single beast doubted it. And they would not allow that conviction to be questioned.

Ten thousand years.

Ten thousand years without sensing a power so sharp, so absolute.

If they couldn’t find that silver spear—if that flash of silver wasn’t what they hoped it was—then the feeling of almost having it, then losing it, would be unbearable. Like something had been carved out of their chest, leaving only a festering hollow.

And so, the only thing in the world for a time was the sight of these enormous beings crashing into the deep, one after another, with desperate, dreadful determination. Like they would chase this thing to the ends of creation, to the end of all things.

The sea erupted again, wilder than ever, as monsters flooded downward. The very fabric of ocean and sky threatened to flip, churned into chaos by their charge.

Among all the rampaging beasts, only two figures remained still.

They were, after all, kings—rulers of the sky and sea. Even now, they stood motionless, like mountains.

—Or so it seemed.

Their underlings had just rebelled before their eyes. Not a single beast left. And neither one shouted, nor lifted a claw to stop them.

Why?

Because their minds were blank.

That was it. Total sensory overload.

When one is overwhelmed, no response comes. Muscles twitch. Eyes don’t focus. The mind feels like it’s stuck inside a great bell being struck from all sides. Only the endless hum remains.

There was no room for thought.

No strength for power.

If someone had fired a cannon at them right now, maybe—maybe—they could survive by sheer toughness alone. But technique? Instinct? Gone.

And yet—somewhere inside the chaos—a single thought sparked and seared itself into their brains:

Find the source of the silver light.

They weren’t mindless dogs who followed scent. Not them.

No, they thought.

Think: what was that flash?
Where did it come from?
Who could wield it?
Who could command such a spear?

Answer: it was the spear forged from stardust. It came from nearby.
And the only one in all the universe who could command it—who could make the spear of the stars bow its head—

Was him.

Everything aligned.

The beast king of the sea and the black dragon of the sky jolted as if struck by lightning. Heads snapped upward.

As though waking from death. As though breathing for the first time.

And then—they saw him.

A figure shot from the woods, ascending like a comet, leaping through wind.

That silhouette—

Even after ten thousand years, they recognized him in an instant.

Their hearts thundered in their chests, threatening to break free.

Mondo’s lips trembled. He opened and closed his mouth again and again—unable to form a single word.

And in that moment of stillness—

Hexin landed on the sea.

He lifted his hand—and from the depths, the silver spear surged upward.

Not a drop clung to it. It gleamed bright as ever, divine light dancing along its length.

Spinning like a thrown blade, it flew into Hexin’s hand. He caught it easily.

And the spear sang.

It let out a long, high cry—like a hawk returning to its master. Proud. Wild. Free.

Then came the beasts.

The ones that had chased the spear into the deep now burst from the waves, only to stop cold when they met his gaze.

“——Yo.”

That voice.

Exactly as it had been in their memories.

That damn voice—cocky, taunting, impossible. The voice you wanted to rip to pieces, and the one you could never forget.

He smiled, gave a lazy wave.

“Long time no see, everyone.”

[T/N: So cool!!!]