Phillip suddenly stopped approaching the space god. He was really surprised as the space god was cursing Jason Mama.
“What happened to my father? Speak, peace god… what happened to my father?” Phillip cried out angrily as he lost control of himself.
For a moment, there was only silence, as if the hall itself was holding its breath. Then, with an earsplitting hiss, brilliant astral light tore across the shadows.
The Space God materialized, tall and lean, luminescent patterns swimming across his skin like galaxies in perpetual motion. His eyes glowed white-hot, seething with a power that dwarfed any mortal comprehension.
“You dare enter my sanctuary, you filthy demon?” the Space God thundered. His voice reverberated as though it came from multiple dimensions at once.
“I wish to know everything—everything about Jason Mama. Speak space god, speak. We can fight later, first tell me what happened to my father?” Phillip cried out without fearing the attack of space god.
“Jason Mama is no more. Erased from existence—wiped clean from the tapestry of the Nine Realms!”
Phillip’s jaw tightened. “Then why do I still hear his name cursed upon your lips? Aren’t you my father’s supporter?”
But space god chose to attack this time rather than satisfying Phillip with answers.
For an instant, all was still—until the deity unleashed a sudden strike of cosmic energy. It cracked the air like thunder and surged toward Phillip with lethal speed.
Phillip braced himself, expecting the blow. But he refused to raise a hand in defense. If the Space God intended to annihilate him, so be it—yet not before Phillip demanded the truth.
The astral blast slammed into him, sending him skidding backward. A scorching pain lanced across his chest, and he dropped to one knee, breath ragged. Smoke curled around the edges of his cloak, tattered from the strike.
Still, he struggled back to his feet, eyes blazing. He had endured far worse. The sting of cosmic power felt insignificant compared to the heartbreak that gripped his soul.
“I will ask again,” Phillip declared, ignoring his own trembling muscles. “Why are you cursing Jason Mama? Why do you hate Jason Mama so much that you would strike me for uttering his name?”
The deity’s eyes narrowed. “You show no fear,” he said in a low, guttural tone. “A demon who does not cower in my presence is either foolish or fated for greater things. Perhaps you are both.”
“If you’ve finished testing me,” Phillip spat, “then answer my question.”
The space between them vibrated with tension as the Space God raised an arm, swirling stardust around a cosmic staff. Another heartbeat passed, and a second strike of astral might seemed imminent. Yet something in Phillip’s unwavering gaze made the Space God pause. He lowered his staff.
“Very well,” the deity intoned, his voice now tinged with curiosity. “I will tell you of Jason Mama’s end. But do not think my wrath is stayed forever.”
Drawing in a breath that seemed to pull in starfire itself, the Space God began…
“Jason Mama was once a pillar of mine… some called him a champion, others a tyrant. His might was spoken of across lower realms, and he fathered armies as easily as others fathered children. Yet he met his demise at the hands of Drona Lionheart, in the midst of a calamitous war. It was a conflict that ended with the rise of sworn wizards Army ascending to new heights of power. Among them was a man named Kent, whose final victory reshaped the cosmos.”
Phillip’s mind reeled. A raging tempest of sorrow collided with the swirl of new information, fueling an inferno in his chest.
“Jason Mama.” Now, Phillip found confirmation in the most unlikely source: a being who supported Jason Mama once.
“Jason Mama… was my father,” Phillip whispered. The air thickened with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes. “I have spent my entire life as a son to fake father m. And you say he was killed—by Drona Lionheart?”
The Space God nodded, starry flecks shimmering with every slight motion. “Yes. Drona Lionheart of the 7th Realm Quinn family. He led part of the conflict that dethroned your father and claimed victory for his own cause. Many hailed it as justice, for they believed Jason Mama’s reign brought ruin. Others mourned, calling him a misunderstood hero. I care little for their opinions. The outcome remains: Jason Mama perished, and the survivors of that war now rule the Nine Realms with the blessing of Kent, a warrior whose triumph left them unstoppable.”
Phillip shuddered, tears rolling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes, remembering the tender lullabies of his mother, Soya, who once whispered to him that his father Jason was a good man, that one day father and son would stand side by side unlike living a fake life.
He let out a strangled cry, raw with pain and anger. The echoes of that agony resounded, trembling the walls. “Father… everything I held dear is lost. Drona Lionheart and Kent took everything from me!”
The Space God watched intently, a cold, cosmic satisfaction lighting his face. He saw something in Phillip’s pain: the seeds of a new war, the potential of a perfect vengeance.
Phillip’s fist slammed against the stone floor, and he rose, lightning dancing across the determination in his eyes. “I swear upon my father’s name,” he roared, voice filled with furious conviction, “I will take revenge! I will slaughter Drona Lionheart and Kent, and I will bring havoc to their precious Nine Realms!”
His tears dried in the heat of his wrath. The vow soared beyond the boundaries of mortal hate into a cosmic oath that shook even the Space God.
A strange, exultant smile bent the deity’s lips. “Your fury is bright as any star. Perhaps you and I may yet be allies, Phillip, son of Jason Mama.”
Phillip stiffened. Of all possible outcomes, he had not expected an offer of alliance. “You want to join forces with me?” he demanded. “And why would a cosmic being such as yourself wish to ally with a Demon?”
A swirl of astral energy enveloped the Space God, flickering with every color of the cosmos. When he spoke, his voice echoed with secrets older than any realm. “To stop war god. I’m a god, Yet cosmic laws bind me as lower god. I cannot walk freely among all Realms without inciting the wrath of certain gods.”
He paced across the black stone floor, each step resonating with a low hum. “Drona Lionheart… Kent… They are obstacles. Their victories brought peace, helping the War God. If you attack lower realms, the War God will face a grand calamity—a trial that will allow him to reclaim Old Godhood. My presence here is to ensure that such an ascension does not favor them. If the War God manages to pass his trial unopposed, the balance tilts in his favor. And that is where your rage becomes most valuable.”
Phillip eyed the cosmic being warily. “You’re speaking of manipulations on a scale beyond my comprehension.”
“Indeed.” The Space God’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial hiss. “I have watched these realms shift under war god rule. He has toppled great tyrants, but in doing so, he’s become a new kind of tyrant—one cloaked in the robe of a savior. He and his allies are building a power structure that dares to rewrite my destiny. I propose that we sabotage them. We unravel their carefully woven tapestry. And in turn, you have your revenge against the murderers of your father.”
A thunderous silence followed. Phillip could feel his heart hammering like a war drum. The memories of Jason Mama’s final moments—now twisted by knowledge of Drona’s betrayal—ignited a single-minded determination. He must end them all. Drona Lionheart, Kent, and every last soldier who took part in the downfall of the Mama family.
“You say sabotage,” Phillip began carefully, “but what do you truly want from me?”
“I want your wrath,” the Space God replied. “I want your cunning, your armies, your thirst for destruction. We shall break the Nine Realms at their foundation, ensuring they never rise strong enough to challenge the cosmic order again. Through you, I will act—and through me, you shall have the means to tear them apart from within.”
Despite the Space God’s apparent sincerity, Phillip remained cautious. “And if I agree, if I become your vassal, your weapon… do I sacrifice my own autonomy?”
A ring of cosmic sparks blossomed around the deity. “You would keep your free will, dear demon. I do not require a puppet—I require a partner. You stand to gain immeasurable power if you align with me. Once the Nine Realms lie in ruins, your vengeance shall be exacted. They destroyed your father’s dynasty; let us see how they fare when you unleash all your fury.”
At long last, he exhaled, letting the wave of fury subside into a cold, resolute determination. “I accept,” he declared, voice trembling with emotion. “I want them to suffer for what they’ve done. You have my wrath. Tell me what must be done.”
A radiant grin lit up the Space God’s face, cosmic lights swirling faster around his astral form. “Then we have an accord.” He extended a hand, shimmering with starlight, and Phillip gripped it without hesitation.
In that moment, a surge of cosmic power swept across Phillip’s entire being. The shadows against the walls leapt and twisted as if in celebration of the new alliance. Whatever forces had guided fate, they now gave birth to a partnership that could well destroy worlds.
After a beat of silence, Phillip remembered the final piece of his plan. “My armies,” he said. “I have no shortage of men—sixty-nine million strong, if you count those still loyal to my bloodline in exile. But I can’t move them without strong magic or cosmic assistance. War demands unity, and unity demands swift movement.”
The Space God inclined his head. “Very good… It’s just a snap from me… don’t worry.” He raised the cosmic staff, tracing a pattern in the air that glowed bright as a newborn star. “In the next blood moon, the barrier between realms thins. Portals can be opened, gates that bridge impossible distances. I will use my power to bring your 69 million soldiers here, to your side. Their mere presence will send tremors of dread through the Nine Realms.”
Phillip’s eyes sparkled with grim satisfaction. “Then I am in your debt, Space God.”