Hexin brought the Celestials back to the divine domain.

Though to the Celestials, “home” probably referred to anywhere the sun god was.
As long as they could follow him—even if it was only chasing his shadow—they would never consider it exile.

Still, Hexin wanted to bring them here. To see it.

In his mind, reviving the divine domain was clearly the main quest, while places like Baihe Star were side quests tied to individual character cards. Every time he completed a side quest, the main quest’s progress bar would shoot up. And when the divine domain returned to its peak state, the system’s required faith points would likely be complete.

This wasn’t idle fantasy.
He’d seen what the divine domain looked like at its height in god of gods—a realm that truly drew all things under the heavens.
Not just the subordinate gods, creations, and beasts that already lived there, but the pilgrims who crossed oceans and continents to worship at its gates—each one worthy of their own heroic epic.

Faith points weren’t only determined by sincerity, but also by the quality of the one offering them—
And the more powerful the believer, the more unwavering, pure, and fanatical their faith.

So naturally, restoring the divine domain had made its way to the top of his agenda.
Step one? Bring back the creations who once lived there.

Hexin gave the command, and Sun City shifted into the divine domain.
The space-time distortion that should have come with such a movement didn’t so much as ruffle his robe—it was as smooth as flipping a page.

Only when Hexin stood from his throne did the Celestials realize they’d arrived.

They knelt or crouched close to him, a cluster of wings and limbs gathered at his feet.
From where Hexin sat, they looked like a flock of pigeons who had endured bitter cold and hunger, finally stumbling into the warmth of light—too content to move a single feather.

Originally, they had stubbornly refused to let their guard down,
but Hexin couldn’t stand to see them so wounded yet still trying to stand like perfect sentinels.

So he reached out and plucked a random lucky one for a very gentle feather-ruffle.

That was all it took.
They folded instantly.

The unlucky-lucky one was the same Celestial who had spoken first—he introduced himself as Minta, captain of the Celestial vanguard.

Hexin didn’t know the current ranks of Celestial military structure,
but it sounded important. Probably impressive?

This very impressive captain was now curled up beside Hexin’s throne,
wings wrapped tightly around his body like a blanket.
The tips of his feathers were tinged a faint pink, and when Hexin glanced his way, he flinched visibly—on the verge of passing out.

Hexin: …So Celestial wings are that sensitive, huh.

Minta: System overload. Emotion.exe has stopped responding. Fainting.jpg.

The rest of the Celestials cast envious glances at Minta.
Their wings twitched, then stiffened as they turned back with expressionless (read: devastated) faces.

So lucky. Our captain got touched by the god.
Drowning in divine affection. Must be nice.

As Sun City descended into the divine domain,
the moment it appeared on sacred ground,
the earth rumbled with layered footsteps—
beasts stirring from mountain and cavern alike.
They hadn’t expected the god to return so soon.

They peeked out of rocky dens, swaying joyfully,
bodies big and strange and joyous.

The new generation of Celestials had seen such beasts before—
they’d once helped subdue one that escaped the divine domain.
They remembered how terrifying it had been.

So it was hard to reconcile that memory with the bumbling, happy-faced creatures before them.
One primeval anaconda even darted in and out of its den, dragging out four wiggling hatchlings like a housecat proudly presenting her babies.

And in the way they looked at the god—with such wonder, such longing—

The Celestials saw themselves.

Then the gates of Sun City opened, and the full landscape spread before them.

They had never seen it before.

But deep in their bones, in the code of their souls,
something whispered:
We are home.

Their ancestors had left this place ten thousand years ago.
Who could’ve guessed their descendants would one day claw and crawl and beg for a way back?

But now, the wandering was over.
They had returned.

Even if it was their first time setting foot here,
they knew what to do.
Instinctively.

Hexin met their eyes and said with a knowing smile:

“Want to try?
I won’t stop you.
But if you’re too slow… you won’t catch me.”

With that, all the Celestials were instantly relocated outside the city.

Hexin stood atop his throne, lips curved in a half-smile.
He looked down from on high—

—and turned, walking away without looking back.

A great wind rushed through the divine domain,
a breath from the ancient past.

Golden chimes throughout the city began to ring,
soft and overlapping like waves across the sea.

And the doves—the radiant white birds that had once lost their way—
spread their wings and gave chase without hesitation.

Their feathers gleamed with blinding brilliance.
The sight stirred memories buried deep in time,
a mirror of the distant past.

But bloodlines fade. Inheritance erodes.
And even with instinct on their side, the new generation struggled.

Just when their strength began to wane—
they saw them.

Faint, shimmering spirits rising from the earth.
The old generation.
Ancient Celestials, still guarding this place even in death.

They raised wings that mirrored the living—
unchanged, unwavering—
and lifted the tired ones up.

Go. Fly.

The lingering will of the first generation had waited millennia for this handoff.
Their god—was he ever lonely?
Did it matter?
No.

Their only purpose was clear:

Stay with him.
Always follow him.

We were born to chase the sun.

Now the sun is yours.

The young Celestials turned in startled awe—
but the spirits were already gone,
melted into the wind.

The bells of the golden city rang again and again,
as though someone were knocking at the gates.
But it was not lonely souls seeking passage—
It was the wind itself,
returning home.

Hexin rose slowly from his throne.
He caught a strand of wind between his fingers.
Then he lifted his hand—

and reached toward the ground.

The earth trembled.

From beneath the surface, something surged upward.

First spires. Then rooftops. Then walls and walkways.
A vast structure emerged from the land.

It didn’t stop at the ground.

It rose—floating—until it settled among the clouds.

A city of silver and white.
Its design unlike anything in the interstellar age—
from its materials to the gentle silver gleam of its skin—
it was unmistakably of the divine era.

It hovered above the world like the home it had once been—
holy, noble, untouched by time.

This was the Celestials’ ancient homeland.

A nation that had survived ten thousand years beneath the soil,
its strength not forgotten,
its blessings still intact.

And Hexin had only found it again by instinct—
flying with his creations until, by sheer reflex, he brought them home.

Sensing the commotion behind him, Hexin casually gestured for the Celestials to go take a look.

“Well? Is it different from the one you built on the imperial-grade planet?”

The Celestial addressed shook his head, eyes shimmering like starlight as he looked at him.

“Of course it’s different. Because…”

…because you’re here.

System: Celestial Holy City x1
System: Divine Domain Revival Progress: 10%

---

While Hexin was giving the Celestials a tour of their old homeland within the divine domain, a new, uninvited guest arrived on Baihe Star.

At the time, Baihe Star was in the middle of a shouting match over comms with a neighbouring mid-tier planet. The issue? Baihe Star wanted to report the suspected descent of the sun god.

Suspected only because one cautious researcher from the Foreign Studies Department insisted on maintaining professional restraint. Otherwise, that word could have been removed altogether.

The mid-tier planet next door had already called it nonsense.

“You can’t just throw out wild claims like that. Making up stories has consequences.”

The entire region was comprised of backward, remote planets with terrible signal reception. If they wanted to contact the Central Star Region—or an imperial-grade world, the ruling powers—they had to go through higher-tier planets with access to secure comms.
Otherwise?
They’d have to buy a starship ticket and fly there themselves, which they simply couldn’t afford.

It was, essentially, like a village chief from a remote mountain town trying to get an audience with the president in the capital.

Ridiculous on every level.

And the only mid-tier planet in the region clearly felt the same.

“You’re still salty we rejected your Divine Domain exploration proposal and denied your funding. Now you’re making things up?”

“This isn’t an excuse—it’s fact! Besides, our mission succeeded! Xia Ze already returned!”

“Where’s your proof? You bring me one piece of dirt from the Divine Domain, and I’ll believe you.”

“The sun god descended and you’re hung up on dirt?! Are you brain-dead?! Do you even understand who runs this starfield? Can you afford to be wrong about this?!”

“That’s exactly why I’m being careful! If this turns out to be false, and I offend the Celestials because of it—do you think I’ll even live to see tomorrow’s sun?!”

And he wasn’t wrong.
If you dared insult the Celestials—if you dared use their devotion to the sun god as a ploy—
they would not just execute you.
They’d turn you into a divine sacrifice by the most brutal means imaginable.

Just as the argument reached a boiling point, Xia Ze, who had returned from the festival with the god academy team, suddenly sensed a strange but familiar energy signature. He shot to his feet and looked toward the sky, expression grave.

“New Celestials just arrived on Baihe Star.”

The scholars—devoted enough to throw fists over anything god-related—immediately wilted at the idea of hosting actual Celestials.

“What? Are they here to meet the sun god? But… he’s already gone. He left. Does that mean we have to greet them…?!”

Their faces all turned pale.

Over on the comms, the mid-tier planet, hearing “Celestials”—a real, known military power unlike the far-off concept of gods—paused.

“Wait, are you serious? This… is this real?”

But no one was paying attention to them anymore.

Xia Ze calmed the panicking researchers and followed the energy trail out to the high cliff where the festival had taken place.

Below the cliff, the area had already been cordoned off.
If it was confirmed that the sun god had descended here tonight, this location would be declared an official sacred site—drawing endless pilgrims for years to come.

But that was a matter for the future.

Right now, Xia Ze looked at the newly-arrived Celestials descending from the sky.
Unlike the first batch—unarmed, lost—these were fully equipped.
Every single one of them carried weapons, with high-tech cannons strapped to their wrists—gear far beyond anything Baihe Star had ever seen.

“We are the Celestial Reconnaissance Division,” they said evenly, mechanical eyes locking onto Xia Ze.
“We are investigating the disappearance of the Vanguard Division. Their last known coordinates were on this planet.”

Back when the vanguard encountered the abyssal threat,
all Celestial units had received a broadcast—not a distress call, but a report.
In other words, unless something unprecedented occurred, no other division would intervene.
Celestials did not do “rescue.” They had no sentimental attachments.

But this time—
something unprecedented happened.

The entire vanguard abruptly changed course and flew straight to this obscure planet.
Then, all their signals vanished.
Gone.
As if they’d evaporated.

Incomprehensible.

Even the Recon Division—specialists in analysis and deduction—couldn’t figure it out.
So they came. In person.
Re-prioritizing all missions to investigate this anomaly.

They stared Xia Ze down, voices flat but final:

“You know where they are.”

Back in the divine domain, Hexin tilted his head slightly.
Through the charm he’d given Xia Ze, he felt the ripple of strange energy.
With nothing urgent happening in the city, he glanced at Minta and the others, then reached through the divine domain—
and stepped directly onto Baihe Star.

Right into the line of fire.

Literally.

The Recon Division had been a second away from blasting Xia Ze to oblivion.

The moment Hexin appeared, Xia Ze halted, wide-eyed with joy and relief.
He turned toward the Celestials.

“See? I told you—I wasn’t lying. The sun god has returned!”

But the Recon Division wasn’t listening anymore.

The cold composure on their faces shattered the moment they laid eyes on him.

Their hands trembled.
Their weapons misfired—triggered involuntarily—and one blaster exploded into the sky like a firework.

These were elite snipers.
They’d never missed a shot in their lives.

Now?
They couldn’t even keep their fingers steady.

Elsewhere in orbit, the remaining Celestial divisions—
including their top assault, defense, and close-combat forces—
watched the data feed in stunned silence.

The moment they saw him,
they snapped into combat formation—
spread their wings—
and dove.

And then…

Nothing.

From the first vanguard division (total party wipe),
to reconnaissance,
to assault,
to defense,
to melee—
the famed “Five-in-One,” the most powerful Celestial force in the universe—

All down.
All flattened.
Hexin: glorious pentakill.