Deviant: No Longer Human

Valerie's death wasn't mentioned.

It didn't need to be.

The implication was clear—those who resist this truth, or seek to exploit it, will be erased like footnotes in dust.

A map was shown—layered over a sphere of Earth.

Seven Guardian Command Zones marked the continents.

A Task Force had been formed under them, composed of revived divine beings from prior civilizations.

The gods were real.

They were back.

And they were under Wang Xiao's banner.

Protocols were announced:

Report anomalies.

Observe cracks in space.

Refuse contact with the Other Side.

Loyalty would be rewarded.

Silence or sabotage would be punished—with public execution.

The world had been militarized under a single cosmic authority.

And that authority was not human.

Then came the part that broke everyone.

The history.

Not the ones in their books.

The one that was forbidden.

And it didn't begin on Earth.

"You are descendants of prisoners."

"When the Netherworld expanded, it mined Aether across multiverses—leaving behind those who outlived their usefulness."

"Those prisoners—your ancestors—hopped worlds, draining what they could, finally collapsing onto Earth, the last known reserve of Aether."

"You are not chosen. You are remnants."

The feed showed civilizations lost to time:

The Ancient Gods — those who first brought a portion of the surviving prisoners to Earth in search of Aether, hoping to use it as a means to return to their respective universes.

The Pangeans — ancient survivors of the first exodus.

Hyperborea — a race that dug into the Earth's crust to survive Aether depletion.

Atlantekans — oceanic cities built to hold dwindling Aether.

Aerians — flying cities, now ruins in the upper stratosphere.

Chronomasters — obsessed with time, vanished mysteriously after fracturing timelines.

Solar Children — destroyed in a solar eruption.

Greenwardens — nature-bound tribes recently exposed and erased by the Prince for collaborating with Skinwalkers.

The Myriad — a civilization of conscious waveforms, communicating through supernatural phenomena.

Silica Sentinels — technomancers turned into sand after a magnetic catastrophe.

Humanity?

Just the latest version.

The Gods?

They weren't born divine.

They were just those who could access aether the longest.

Eventually, they too disappeared.

But now—with the Aether flowing once more—

They had returned.

Relics were shown, curated in digital archives, set to be housed in public museums:

A floating fragment of an Aerian sky city.

A time shard once used by Chronomasters.

A sealed coffin marked "Aegis."

"Aegis," the narrator said, "led the first resistance against a Hellspawn who accidentally crossed universes during the Pangean era. His death shattered Pangea itself."

The camera paused on his tomb—reverent, ominous.

Aurora, watching from the command center, narrowed her eyes.

She didn't trust this sudden reverence.

Why was Wang Xiao honoring Aegis now?

Was there a reason he was canonizing the man who nearly split the Earth?

She said nothing.

And just like that—

It ended.

No grand conclusion.

Just a message:

"The archives are open. The truth is free. Choose wisely."

And as people flooded the feed—watched the footage, connected dots, examined relics—the symbolic shift had already happened.

The world no longer feared Wang Xiao as a tyrant.

They now feared him as a keeper of truth.

And some—more than a few—

Began to worship.

Across the globe, temples were reopened. Others were built anew—some bearing no name, just a crimson symbol burned into stone. In hushed whispers and trembling awe, people invoked the Prince not with prayers… but declarations of allegiance.

But Wang Xiao?

Wang Xiao didn't care.

Not for their loyalty.

Not for their reverence.

Not even for their survival.

He wasn't here to stop the collision of universes.

In fact, he intended to let it happen.

In the shadows of reality, beyond time's edge, a being thrashed.

An ancient existence.

An Enforcer.

Bound by law. Chained by duty.

Now? Furious.

Wang Xiao's voice had reached the far ends of the multiverse. His announcement wasn't just a warning to Earth—it was a provocation. A challenge. A declaration of rebellion against cosmic balance.

And yet, the Enforcer couldn't touch him.

Not yet.

Because Wang Xiao understood the rules.

It was the ex–Fourth Great Lord of Hell who gave him the key.

A being once mighty, now shattered—yet she had whispered truths few dared record.

"These Enforcers… they hunt those who violate the balance. Even someone like me had to kneel before them. They have ranks. They rise by achievements. They feed on violations."

And Wang Xiao?

He was a violation.

This world—Infinity—was only structured to host one Transcendent at a time.

By returning from the Graveyard of Gods with divine will intact, he had shattered that cap.

And that triggered the Enforcer's hunt.

But Wang Xiao wasn't afraid.

No—

He was planning to reverse the hunt.

He had already deduced the obvious:

If Enforcers rise by killing those who surpass the limit, then they must have a hierarchy.

They must fight to rise.

They absorb.

They ascend.

They consume divinity.

So what if—

There was already another Transcendent?

What if Wang Xiao wasn't alone?

He remembered the pattern.

The shifts in dimensional tide.

The silence in that fragment of the Void.

There was another.

And it wasn't here.

No, it was hidden.

Sheltered.

Preserved in stasis.

A transcendent kept in the lap of an Enforcer himself.

Why?

Because that Transcendent had never broken the rules.

Could not be touched.

Could not be killed.

Could only be guarded—like a trophy, or worse, like a spare soul.

Wang Xiao understood immediately.

If he could reach that Transcendent first—if he could kill him, absorb his power—

Then the Enforcer's goal would collapse.

He wouldn't be able to harvest Wang Xiao's divinity.

His entire promotion would become impossible.

But it wasn't enough.

Not yet.

The problem still remained:

This universe couldn't host more than one Transcendent.

As long as Wang Xiao existed here, he'd always be a target.

A violation.

A hunt waiting to happen.

So—

He came up with a solution.

Let both universes merge.

Let Hell and Infinity collide.

When the collision was complete, the universal structure would shift.

The laws would recalculate.

The Transcendent limit would rise.

And Wang Xiao?

He'd no longer be an anomaly.

He would be legally beyond judgment.

And the Enforcer?

He'd lose his authority.

Be forced to act unlawfully—to chase Wang Xiao outside the rulebook.

And the moment that happened—

He would walk into the trap.

Because that was the true battlefield.

Not Earth.

Not the Netherworld.

But the rule itself.

Right now?

Wang Xiao simply waited.

He already had leverage.

He already had an entire army of gods, guardians, and monsters.

And more importantly, he had her.

The daughter of one of their Great Lords at his side.

The Yang Clan's blood was already on his palm.

And through her?

He could influence Hell itself.

Let the invasion begin.

Let worlds burn.

Let the laws of reality scream.

Let death tolls climb into the billions.

It didn't matter.

Because for Wang Xiao—

This wasn't about Earth.

This wasn't about salvation.

This was about winning one step higher than the gods.

And making the law itself bleed.

He would just sit.

Wait and observe.

Because the longer the Enforcer waited…

…the weaker his position became.