As it turned out, whack-a-mole was simply not possible. Not in this life.

Perhaps having learned from their last failure, the enemy gave them no chance to get close to the black gates this time.

Powerful beams of light shot out from all directions, converging from every gate in the sky. From a distance, the warship looked like a target board struck by a thousand arrows.

Since they were going all in, Hexin didn’t waste time either—he activated his ultimate move without hesitation.

Once more, the star-strewn cosmos descended. The heavens collapsed into dream, and countless stars flew outward, slamming head-on into the incoming beams. The moment they collided, space twisted around them. At the centre of the storm, the massive ship groaned under the strain.

The shockwaves tore outward in gales.

Siren alarms howled like mad across the spaceport. Every floating display turned blood red with flashing warnings: SSS LEVEL DANGER!

Glass across the lobby shattered. Shards fell like rain, cutting through the air and crashing across the floor.

Then the two opposing forces surged skyward, shrieking like metal on glass, and with a final blast—ripped the entire roof off the spaceport.

The wall clock flipped to 5:30 a.m. The sky had just begun to lighten. Cold morning air rushed through the gaping ceiling, waking the stunned crowd like a slap to the face.

“…what the hell—!”

It was the only thing anyone could say.

People stared, dumbstruck, at the freshly bald spaceport ceiling. Someone pinched their own arm. No, it wasn’t a dream.

Elsewhere, Hexin gave the ruined warship a subtle side glance. The hull was pockmarked with dents and craters, but he managed not to look guilty.

Cough… looks expensive. Red Wing must have a repair budget, right?

“Don’t let your guard down. It’s not over,” the doctor warned, having clearly noticed Hexin zoning out. His tone was calm, but the flash behind his glasses betrayed deep tension.

Hexin answered, “I know. Just saying hi.”

Each specialty had its realm. If they were still in the dreamscape, Hexin would’ve steamrolled the fight already. But here in reality, he had to be careful not to let the fallout spread too far.

The backlash faded. Half the black gates in the sky were gone, the rest left badly damaged.

Not a single creature emerged.

Those that had hidden behind the gates now cowered in silence. In the last exchange, they had sensed where the two powers had come from. And at this moment, their thoughts mirrored those of the humans below—just one “what the hell?!” after another, none of them able to fully process what they were witnessing.

“Why are those two fighting here?!”

“We’re screwed. If both the dream god and the god of ferocity are here, then their twin must be close by—or worse, already watching.”

But wait. Wasn’t the one beside the dream god the god of calamity? That wasn’t how the lineup was supposed to look.

While the lower-tier creatures who functioned on instinct remained clueless, the more advanced abyssal entities were starting to panic.

They had no fear of mortals—Red Wing or otherwise. But a battle between gods? That was suicide. And this scene reeked of divine family drama just waiting to explode.

“You’re here, god of ferocity?” someone whispered, afraid to even hear themselves.

Hexin didn’t bother with speculation. He went straight to the point. “Why are you here?”

As he spoke, a tall man stepped out from one of the remaining black gates.

He had black horns and dark clothing. The stench of smoke and blood clung to him. Every step he took forward was heavy with power—like a warlord stepping from the abyss.

His eyes were a stormy gray, like the god of calamity’s—but colder. Where the god of calamity’s gaze was detached, this one brimmed with violent arrogance. Power pulsed from him in waves, raw and black and barely contained.

The name “Eios” had been shouted earlier—but that wasn’t a true name. Just the kind of short-form designation one might use in passing. Among gods, real names held power, and rarely were they spoken aloud.

Still, Hexin knew his name.

Or more accurately—the god of beauty knew it.

The god of ferocity stepped forward, suspended in air. In just a few strides, he landed in front of the warship. He looked up—and locked eyes with Hexin at the window.

But his gaze never landed. Because the doctor stepped in front of him.

Hexin couldn’t see the doctor’s face, but he could clearly see the god of ferocity start to laugh.

“Well, well. Eios…” he sneered, perfectly living up to the name god of ferocity. “You’ve grown bold.”

Hexin knew the records. These brothers weren’t like the dream-beauty twins who were attached at the hip. Their relationship was more neutral—cordial, at best.

They had never fought before. No serious conflict had ever been recorded. Overall, they were considered… stable.

So Hexin hadn’t expected this.

The doctor shielded him completely and said, without hesitation, “Brother. Go back.”

“…What did you just say?”

The god of ferocity stared at him, hard. Slowly, something registered behind his eyes. He looked like a man who had just realized his little brother had entered a rebellious phase—and simply couldn’t understand why.

“This is the second time you’ve defied me,” he said coldly. “Do you even understand what you’re doing? Do you even remember who your brother is?”

He was clearly about to keep going—until he noticed Hexin step forward.

The god of ferocity paused. He stared at the boy, his expression unreadable.

Hexin met his gaze head-on, unafraid. His eyes were clear, calm, and knowing.

“You’re here for me,” he said.

The god of ferocity let out a short, sharp laugh. “So you are sharper than you look. I guess you haven’t forgotten everything.”

“Then do you know,” he added with a sneer, “that the one standing next to you is my brother?”

“Do you know,” his voice dipped lower, more dangerous, “that he came to you to take your fragmented consciousness—to stop you from fully awakening?”

==

Here is your translated excerpt, written as a writer and preserving the tone, with all references to god/gods in lowercase:

“…brother!”

No one had expected the god of ferocity to just spill everything like that—though, admittedly, it probably wasn’t going to stay hidden much longer. Still, the doctor clearly hadn’t wanted the boy to find out this way, no matter what.

But Hexin showed none of the shock or outrage they were bracing for. He didn’t react to the stiffening of the doctor beside him. In fact, he looked completely calm, as if none of it mattered.

And honestly? From Hexin’s perspective, losing a fragment of consciousness really wasn’t a big deal. The worst that could happen was that this cycle’s dream god wouldn’t awaken. He’d simply live out this life as an ordinary human and start again in the next tribulation. gods lived too long anyway. A hundred years of mortality—birth, aging, sickness, death—was little more than a nap. Hardly worth fussing over.

Still, the abyssal gods seemed to care a lot. To them, losing all power and memory and living like some fragile insect must’ve been unbearable.

“Oh,” the god of ferocity said coolly, glancing at the god of calamity, “so you do know.”

Then, with an expression of complete disdain, he added, flatly, “Eios approached you for that fragment. But as you can see, he failed. Completely.”

He hadn’t said it to provoke. He just genuinely couldn’t stand the sorry state his brother was in now—pale and pathetic. He looked like he was the villain here, like he’d tried to sabotage something sacred.

Who’s the real brother here? the god of ferocity thought. You were supposed to take that fragment and be done with it. Now look at you. Useless.

Without another word, he reached toward Hexin—not for his body, but for the slumbering piece of soul within him. The final key to awakening the dream god.

“Stop!” the doctor leapt forward on instinct.

A vein popped on the god of ferocity’s temple. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

The doctor—maybe even a little flustered—muttered, “He took me to see the stars.”

The god of ferocity: o_o “I’ve never taken you to see the stars?!”

Faced with the doctor’s bewildered silence, he realized—he actually hadn’t.

And suddenly, memories stirred.

They’d crossed paths with the dream god before. But back then, he had always been hidden behind his two older brothers. The god of ferocity had seen him from afar countless times—but never spoken to him directly. Still, the god of calamity had occasionally mentioned him, always with a cold tone, always saying, “That dream god doesn’t belong in the abyss.”

Back then, the god of ferocity had thought his brother was just being harsh. “Sure, the kid’s weak for a god,” he’d said, “but that’s no reason to deny where he came from. He’s still one of ours.”

But now… it clicked.

His brother hadn’t meant it as rejection. He’d meant the dream god was too noble for the abyss. The abyss was too filthy to hold something that pure.

And suddenly he saw it.

There had never been some chance encounter. This had been premeditated from the start.

Of course he gave himself up willingly.

The god of ferocity exploded. “Get lost!”

As the older brother, his power easily eclipsed the god of calamity’s. Especially now, furious and unrestrained.

The doctor was sent flying. He twisted midair, caught himself, and dropped to one knee, skidding across the floor. By the time he looked up again, his brother was already standing before Hexin. His fingers nearly touched the boy’s robe.

The god of ferocity sneered, ready to watch Hexin struggle—

—but the boy suddenly looked… sleepy.

The god of calamity froze in panic: …no. No, not now. You’re not seriously falling asleep now???

Both brothers could only stare as the boy’s eyes drooped, his head tilted back—and he collapsed like someone surrendering to a dream too sweet to resist.

Somewhere far away, where they couldn’t hear, the system spoke:

[Dream god awakening progress has reached 99%. The final 1% must complete during sleep. Estimated time: ten minutes. Please confirm start.]

“Ten minutes? That’s not long. Let’s do it now.”

[…Command confirmed. Initiating progress bar.]

And just like that, the vessel of the dream god fell. Hexin hadn’t hesitated in the slightest—not even in a moment like this.

But he wasn’t reckless. He handed control of the dream god to auto-mode, then reached for a card he had never used before.

The beauty god.

The entire internal exchange took less than a second.

In the same second—

The god of calamity had just reached out to catch Hexin.
The god of ferocity was frozen mid-smirk.
The boy’s fluttering robes were still falling.

Then—someone caught him.

Hands like carved white jade cradled the dream god with gentle precision, brushing wind-tossed hair from his face like a curator handling the world’s most priceless sculpture.

—When did he get here?!

That thought echoed through everyone’s mind.

No—correction.

This wasn’t strange. This was what should’ve happened. These two were twin gods, inseparable by design. Of course he came.

Their shock, disbelief, and dawning realization didn’t last long.

Because then, the newcomer lifted his head.

And all thought stopped.

—It was the kind of beauty that didn’t just overwhelm the senses. It shattered the soul.

The god of calamity shivered. He turned to look at his brother—who was already frozen.

The god of ferocity had completely stiffened.