High Heavens… The Illusion World of 3 Phased God…
The Sky Throne Room of the Three-Phased God was unlike anything that existed in any world, mortal or divine. Suspended in an infinite void where galaxies swirled like cosmic paintings.
The Seven Old Gods sat in solemn discussion. Each deity took their place upon their celestial thrones, their presence shaking the very foundation of existence.
The Three-Phased God, the mightiest of them all, sat in the center, his three faces—one serene, one wrathful, and one contemplative—watching the gathered gods with infinite wisdom. To his right sat the Fate God, his robes woven from the threads of time itself, a golden book floating before him, turning its pages in silence.
To the left, the Life Goddess radiated a warm, golden glow, her very presence breathing vitality into the surrounding space. Beside her, the God of the Sacred Timeline remained silent, his form ever-shifting like the flow of history.
The Goddess of Elements, veiled in flames, water, earth, and wind, observed the conversation in quiet intensity. The Goddess of Nature, dressed in woven vines and blooming flowers, was visibly troubled, while the Draconic Demon God, the only one among them bearing draconic features, sat rigid, his red eyes gleaming with a dangerous glint.
The Goddess of Nature was the first to speak. “I fear for the lower realms,” she said, her voice like the whisper of rustling leaves. “If this calamity unfolds unchecked, the balance of existence will be shattered. The demons are multiplying at an unnatural rate, corrupting everything they touch. The Nine Realms will be no more—they will become extensions of the Abyss.”
The God of the Sacred Timeline spoke next, his tone unwavering. “History has always followed its course. The lower realms have suffered calamities before, yet they have endured. What makes this one different?”
The Goddess of Elements interjected, her aura shifting from blue to red as her voice grew heated. “Because this time, the forces of chaos are not merely reacting—they are acting! Phillip, the new Demon Lord, is not waiting for the gods to interfere. He is already gathering forces unseen in any age.”
The Life Goddess nodded solemnly. “And the gods themselves are divided. If the Space God falls into the wrong hands, then not even we can predict what might happen.”
The Three-Phased God listened in silence before his many eyes turned toward the Fate God. “Fate God, tell us the future. How does this unfold?”
The Fate God, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. “The fate of the Nine Realms is… uncertain.” He closed his golden book, the echoes of countless possibilities whispering through the air. “Even I do not know what will happen next. The threads of fate have been twisted beyond recognition.”
A murmur ran through the gathered gods.
“But,” the Fate God continued, “there is one certainty. One name appears at the center of every path, every possibility. The young man who aided the sacred ritual at Meru Mountain—Kent. If he can withstand the calamity, the future will hold. If he fails… the demons will rule for hundreds of centuries.”
The Three-Phased God sighed, his contemplative face shifting forward. “Then we must watch closely. We must ensure he is given the right opportunities—the right luck.”
A scoff echoed through the chamber. The Draconic Demon God stood abruptly, his presence darkening the air. “No one must intervene,” he declared, his voice booming with finality. “The realms will follow their destined path. If fate has chosen demon rule, then so be it. No god should interfere with the will of destiny.”
Silence followed, heavy and strained.
–
Spirit World…
For three days and nights, Phillip had remained near the Mystic Palace of the Space God, his eyes set on the swirling domain that bent space and time at will.
The towering castle floated within an ever-shifting void, stretching and shrinking, folding dimensions upon itself. No intruder had ever entered without the Space God’s permission.
Phillip had tried everything—spells, warlocks, abyssal magic—but nothing pierced the shifting layers of reality surrounding the palace. He bore deep wounds, each a testament to his repeated failures.
As frustration mounted, his most trusted general, Chaturbhuj, arrived in a hurry, carrying a pot of mysterious dark liquid.
“My Lord,” Chaturbhuj said, bowing deeply. “This is the Essence of the Abyss, extracted from the heart of the Forgotten Void. If consumed, it will allow you to shrink to the size of a single dust particle and change your form to adapt to the surrounding space. It is our best chance.”
Phillip took the pot, examining the thick, black liquid within. “A key that bends with the lock,” he murmured. Without hesitation, he drank it in one gulp.
A sharp pain erupted through his body. His skin twisted, his bones shrank, his essence compressed. Within moments, he became so small that the very molecules of space bent around him.
He vanished into the fabric of reality and slipped into the ever-shifting domain of the Space God.
Within seconds, Phillip found himself inside the palace walls, navigating the maze of warping corridors. He shifted shapes continuously, adjusting his form to the space around him, until he reached a vast chamber.
There, slumped in a grand throne, was the Space God, drinking heavily from an ornate golden goblet. His cosmic robes fluttered weakly, his aura of authority tainted with grief and fury.
Phillip remained hidden in the shadows, watching.
The Space God slammed his goblet onto the table, his voice laced with venom. “Jason Mama… that-fool… gone. And now the War God grows stronger… Damn them all…” He poured himself another drink, his hands shaking slightly.
Phillip smirked, stepping forward into the dim light. “You seem troubled, mighty Space God. Perhaps I can offer… assistance.”
The Space God’s gaze snapped toward the intruder, and for a split second, his drunken haze vanished. “Who dares—” His words faltered when he saw who stood before him.
–
Tq for Golden-tickets…
