The Monarch

"In the end, you remained stuck at the foundation of the third divine level." Kayden was seated, calmly drinking tea in one of the enormous buildings owned by the Ody family. The view of the city stretched endlessly in every direction, a horizon without limits.

"I would not say I am stuck. I still have a long path ahead of me." Kayden smiled at the woman, but his tone was harsh, cutting like a blade concealed behind gentle words.

"You know you will never be able to leave this level," he said, staring directly into the woman's eyes. "I can feel it in your aura—you gave up a long time ago. Perhaps not consciously, but it is clear to me. You have not faced a true battle in ages."

The woman did not respond immediately. There was nothing she could say. Her past had been unraveled in the briefest of encounters, as if every fragment of her story had been laid bare with a single glance. Kayden had not even needed to look at her twice to perceive the rust corroding her aura. But worse than that rust was the deeper stench—the aura of someone who had long settled for the place where they had arrived, content with stagnation.

The tragedy was that this was not rare. Most gods eventually reached a point where progress became impossible. At first, they struggled against it. Then, slowly, they began to accept it, retreating into their own insignificance. That was how most gods died—not by blade or poison, but by resignation.

To die in life was not to cease breathing, but to breathe without purpose. Each breath became a burden, each day a pale repetition of the last. The emptiness stretched like an endless desert, a wasteland where even hope dared not bloom. It was a silence that corroded from within, a slow erosion of the self, a gradual erasure.

There was no battle left, not even an enemy to oppose—only the crushing weight of uselessness. The soul withered piece by piece, like a forgotten flame flickering in a corner of darkness. The body still moved, yet nothing sustained it within. And in that state, death itself seemed a relief, because at least it would be an ending—true and final.

"I have lived through every experience possible. I was part of my family's council. I did everything a god could possibly do. But…" the woman's gaze grew unfocused, drifting toward the horizon, "there is simply nothing left. I am incapable of advancing. I no longer have any goal in life. I simply drink tea and occasionally instruct a few disciples."

Kayden listened as an endless torrent of complaints and lamentations poured from the lips of a dying god. Outwardly, his face remained composed, respectful, even offering words of politeness and beauty. But inside, Kayden felt only disgust. To him, this woman embodied everything he despised—everything that ignited hatred in his heart. He had no sympathy left for her.

"Why don't you simply kill yourself?" Kayden said with complete indifference. "Your life has already ended, Yasmin. You simply do not realize it. You chase useless things without meaning. You do not even have a purpose to keep you walking through your days. You are not alive."

Kayden's words were merciless. He did not soften them in the slightest, nor did he care if the woman lived past this day. Why would he? She was trash—a being who had abandoned life itself. She had committed suicide long ago while her body still walked the earth, though she had not yet recognized it.

"These are your words to me?" The woman's voice trembled, though she tried to maintain composure. She had hoped for a friendly hand, some shred of comfort. Kayden was one of the few beings she had ever spoken to genuinely in her long existence. Most men only desired her body, blinded by mundane cravings, while most women saw her only as an imaginary rival to be overcome.

And beyond that, she had lived at the top. The summit was lonely by nature, but lonelier still when one stood at the absolute peak of such a vast organization. Lucius had once been a friend of hers, but he had long since ceased to speak with her. The other gods had distanced themselves as well, showing their respect by giving her silence.

"Most likely all the other gods have already abandoned you," Kayden said, striking his hand against the table. "You have been dead for a long time. None of them desire contact with you. Not even I." After these words, Kayden fell silent while Yasmin slowly left the room, her figure fading like smoke carried away by wind.

That same day, the Ody family dressed in mourning for the passing of one of its oldest senators. Once again, Kayden endured beyond time. It was almost laughable how gods could not bear the weight of eternity the way mere mortals could.

Her death did not even reach Kayden's heart, and he cared even less. To him, Yasmin was the very definition of a loser. He saw no reason to keep her in his life, no reason even to acknowledge her. After that event, Kayden remained unbothered for billions of years, until the day he decided he had gathered every possible fragment of knowledge concerning the events in the Master's Garden of the Ody family.

He said farewell only to Lucius and wandered aimlessly. He had no destination, nor did he seek one. The voice in his mind remained quiet throughout this span—Jarvis, his companion, rested silently, conserving strength to emerge once more from Kayden's mind. Kayden knew he had to do this urgently, at least from his own perspective.

For the lost, every direction was the right one. Kayden wandered for ages, sometimes clashing with other gods. Yet these encounters were rare. Most could not even perceive his aura. Those who dared to strike him were, at best, of the second divine level—no more than fleeting nuisances, incapable of offering true challenge.

"What have you learned of the chaos?" That was the first question Jarvis asked after awakening from his long slumber. Kayden was startled by the voice echoing suddenly within him, but after a moment of thought, he answered.

"Nothing too great. I was able to understand a little better the precision with which this existence operates. Through that, I improved my control over external laws. But nothing truly vast—my strength has only grown by a few percentages." Jarvis understood perfectly.

What had been revealed to Kayden was far beyond his current level of power—literally trillions upon trillions of eras distant from him. And yet, even so, it opened a small new world before him, a universe filled with countless possibilities to explore.