You Already Won

[Three Minutes Before The Story Ended.]

Huge skeletal hands pressed down on a blazing core of flame—the pressure alone cracking what was left of the platforms of the first dome. The shockwaves rippled outward in concentric bursts, rattling buildings, splitting walkways, and forcing the frozen civilians' bodies to sway like marionettes under invisible strings. The air was thick with distortion, every breath drawn in tasting of smoke, ash, and iron.

Tabia stood at the edge of the chaos, her coral shield thrumming under the weight of the impact. Each pulse sent cracks of blue and green light flashing through her barrier as the raw heat clawed against it. She frowned, her crimson eyes narrowing behind the curtain of steam and embers.

This was getting ridiculous.

The Captain was still laughing. Still enjoying himself. The white of his cloak remained practically spotless, fluttering in the rising currents of the inferno as if this were some elaborate dance and not a battle for his life. The ground cratered beneath him and still he twirled that sword of his, moving with the same manic grace that always walked the line between brilliance and insanity.

Across from him, the enemy—a blazing phantom of a man wrapped in threads of Malefic flame—hurled large explosions. The skeleton hands rose again and slammed into the ground, trying to crush Cawren beneath their weight. The Cawren dodged with a sneer, landing atop one of the burning knuckles.

Tabia exhaled through her nose. Her barrier reformed around her, Ryun coral shifting to reinforce the structure before it collapsed. She could feel the vibrations from every strike, the shuddering pulse of Ryun energy colliding over and over again. Neither side had truly landed a killing blow.

The fight had become something else entirely—a spectacle, a clash of wills that one side didn't seem interested in ending. Tabia crossed her arms and sighed.

Sometimes the Captain's antics ranged on too long.

Cawren's teeth clenched as fiery energy flooded from his core. Malefic Essence rippled through his veins, black light burning along the cracks in his skin. He thrust both hands forward and the air itself ignited—twelve flaming sigils snapping into place in a circle around him. From them came waves of crimson flame, shaped like screaming faces, each laced with dark stars that howled as they spiraled toward Ozzy.

Reapers rushed in to meet them. Their blades clashed against the waves of flame, cutting them apart in arcs. The entire dome quaked as the clashing forces collided.

Ozzy twirled his sword in one hand and struck forward. White and black energy flared off his blade, each wide swing was enough to carve scars into the air. One reaper dove low, another high, while Ozzy himself weaved between them—grinning like a man on a joyride through the apocalypse.

Cawren growled and pulled the sky down. Literal constellations bent at his command—flaming sigils turned into Malefic Meteors, crashing into the ground like molten artillery. The reapers caught some midair, shattering like glass statues in the impact, but others reformed instantly, lunging again.

The two forces collided in a blur—Ozzy's sword cleaving through flame, Cawren's aura erupting in violent bursts that forced the reapers back.

"What do you gain from this?!" Cawren shouted, sweat streaking his face as another explosion tore through the air.

"What do you mean?" Ozzy parried a burning projectile and kicked it back, laughing even as the shockwave sent them both flying.

"Trying to help me," Cawren snapped. "Or whatever the hell you're doing. I get why I'm here—it's just not the same reason as you. My ideals carried me this far. My pain, my struggle, my fire! Don't try to take that away from me!" His glare met Ozzy's blindfold—red flame against unseeing white cloth. "Don't try to kill the flame that kept me alive."

Ozzy landed in a crouch, blade pointed down, reapers reforming behind him. His grin widened.

"I'm not trynna dampen ya flame, buddy." He spun the sword and raised it toward the orange dome ceiling. "I'm trynna expand it."

He spread his arms wide, laughter rolling like thunder. "You've got so much potential it's leaking outta ya! Why waste it on just survival?"

Cawren hesitated, his aura flickering.

"I'm not a hero—"

"I don't care!" Ozzy cut him off, voice booming across the shattered field. "Be a Demon Lord! Be one of those Supreme assholes up there in their shiny palaces! Doesn't matter!"

His sword ignited in pure white.

"Potential ain't about being good—it's about being more. I ain't tellin' you to change," Ozzy said, pointing the tip of his blade straight at Cawren's heart.

"I'm tellin' you to embrace all of you—before you become a damn footnote in someone else's story."

A footnote? Cawren's aura flared like a nova bursting open, lighting the dome up. "What's your name?" he demanded. "I can't pretend you're just an NPC—you've got too much control for that. You must be an Outlander. What game did you come from?"

Ozzy tilted his head, smirk forming beneath his white hood. "No game," he said, spinning his blade once. "I'm a natural type. This girl I know—Magjesti—came up with the term. You'd think the Narloic would care to cater to us naturals, but—"

"Focus." Cawren's eyes burned like dying stars. "Don't forget your life is on the line."

Ozzy grinned wider. "You know, for someone supposedly here to kill the Blood Prince, you haven't done much killing. In fact—" He gestured toward the second dome where reality itself quaked. "You've stayed far away from that little situation over there."

Cawren didn't answer. His face flattened behind his mask. He raised one hand, and lines of sigils and light began to spiral around his arm as his UI flickered to life.

[Blessing of the Black Star – Active]

[Malefic Overdrive – Active]

[Solar Consumption – Active]

[Infernal Prayer – Active]

[Draconic Veins – Active]

[Starlit Devourer – Active]

[Essence of Worth – Active]

[Crown of the Fallen Flame – Engaged]

The heat thickened; the air shimmered. Every buff stacked on top of the last, twisting his form until the atmosphere itself warped around him.

Ozzy laughed. "Ahhh, ha! I knew it. You care about someone! You and North gotta work on your—"

He didn't finish.

The second dome shuddered.

A deep, thunderous crack echoed through the city as its orange shell began to unravel, bleeding threads of reality that flickered between melting gold and dripping blood. The shockwave hit like the roar of a dying god. Tabia's coral barrier shattered, the force slamming her through the air as she screamed and disappeared into the chaos.

North and Destiny's bodies, still frozen in front of the smaller dome, stayed anchored—surrounded by a lattice of twisting gold veins and red fractures.

Cawren and Ozzy both turned, their instincts flaring as they shielded themselves from the storm of unraveling matter.

The world around them folded in on itself.

Tabia slammed her hands into the ground, halting her momentum just before she hit a crumbling ledge. The coral beneath her boots rippled like liquid, absorbing the impact. She gasped for breath, scanning the chaos—the collapsing skyline, the sea of molten gold and blood—and then her eyes locked onto Cawren and Ozzy.

Cawren's aura was climbing again, his body a storm of starfire and shadow, distracted by the unraveling dome as its light bent reality in half. Now. Her heartbeat slowed to a calm rhythm, her instincts tightening into perfect focus. She drew in a breath, letting Ryun surge through her arm until veins of teal and scarlet glowed under her skin. The coral around her responded instantly—shaping into a spiraling spike of fused crystal and living light.

"Ryun Art: Lance of Refined Judgment!"

The spike fired with a deafening crack, cutting through the distorted air like a comet—straight for Cawren's heart.

Cawren's eyes flicked to his UI, and the red symbols flared warnings across his vision:

[Fatal trajectory detected – 0.4 seconds]

[Recommend evasion sequence: Impossible]

He turned his head—too slow. His pupils dilated as he realized his mistake. How careless… He hadn't thought the coral witch would dare, not in this situation. He opened his mouth to raise a defense, but there was no time.

A white blur flashed in front of him.

The world went silent.

Then came the sound—a deep, wet thunk as the coral spike buried itself in flesh. Blood splattered the air like rain.

Tabia froze mid-motion, her eyes wide. "C–Captain?!"

Ozzy stood there, sword still in hand, the coral spike lodged through his shoulder and out his back. The white of his coat was soaked through, turning pink and then crimson. His grin faltered for half a heartbeat—then returned.

He turned his head toward Cawren, who stood frozen in disbelief.

"Don't be so surprised," Ozzy rasped, blood dripping from his lips.

He grabbed Cawren by the collar and shoved him backward—hard—pushing him behind as the Unraveling tore through the city.

The second dome shattered like glass hit by a hammer, fragments of gold and blood shooting out as the collapsing power surged toward them. The world itself screamed, every sound bending under the force of the Unraveling.

—————

Jafar woke up on a cliff, shirtless with only shorts…of course. The grass around him shimmered in shades of pink and blue, glistening like an oil spill under three suns that burned in slightly different hues. Heat pressed against his skin. The air smelled faintly of ozone and wildflowers. Next to him, the carcass of a massive dragon lay still—its scales cracked open like glass, leaking radiant smoke into the air.

He blinked, rubbed the back of his neck, and groaned. "Alright… where the hell…"

He trailed off.

And then————

And then————

And then————

"Yeah, I'm not dealing with this anymore."

His eyes shifted—the irises dilating, the black sigils within them rotating and reconfiguring into a pattern unfamiliar even to him. They pulsed once, then steadied. Anyone else might've missed the difference, but the intent in his gaze was new—sharper.

"God damn," he muttered, flexing his hand and looking at his reflection in the dragon's broken scales. "This feels weird."

He stared at his own face for a long moment—then chuckled. "Not bad."

The world around him began to tremble, the sky fracturing with streaks of color that split reality like spiderwebs.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand. "Big scary timeline deletion. Boo-wah."

He sighed. North sighed.

Because that's who he was now. Not Jafar. Not entirely. And not Jonathan either.

He'd seen enough of Jafar's life to know that man wasn't him. The anger, the cruelty, the untethered hunger—it wasn't his story to carry anymore. But Jonathan? Jonathan was the seed that made both possible—the dreamer who could become something new if given the right path.

North.

That name had stuck for a reason.

He wasn't running from Jafar anymore. He wasn't rejecting Jonathan either. North was the direction—the synthesis. The version of himself that could hold both the king's fire and the man's conscience without losing either. A guidepost. A compass point. His own North Star.

He let the thought settle, breathing out slow.

A warmth spread along his right hand. He blinked and turned.

The grass rippled as a figure crested the hill behind him—her silhouette catching the triple light of the suns. Blonde hair so pale it shimmered white. Golden eyes that cut through the haze. A short, white-and-gold dress that somehow balanced divine grace and street-level defiance. Timbs digging into the strange grass.

She walked with that easy, tomboy swagger that said she'd punch a god and then laugh about it.

North smiled, shaking his head. "Of course you'd find me first."

Destiny grinned as she walked, sunlight turning her into a streak of gold and heat. "You were easy to find," she said. "You shine too damn bright."

"I'm shining?! Awww," North said, grinning ear to ear.

"Shut up." Destiny rolled her eyes, scanning the odd horizon. The pink-blue plains stretched into forever, each patch of grass bending in waves like a breathing ocean. The three suns had started to align, casting triple shadows that moved opposite to them. "Why are we here? What is this place?"

"I have no idea," North said, stretching. "Maybe it's, like… post-narrative limbo? Supreme rehab? Heaven with bad taste in décor?"

Destiny sighed. "Could be the aftermath of the Unraveling. Or the narrative rethreading itself. Or maybe because we were—" she hesitated,"—holding hands when it collapsed. Maybe that connection brought us here."

North smirked. "Ah, so this is definitely a metaphysical, spiritual, and physical situation. Got it."

"Don't make it weird."

"I didn't. The universe did."

They walked for a while, the terrain shifting beneath them. Hills bent sideways like warped mirrors. The sky spun in lazy spirals. Sometimes, they'd see the remnants of other worlds flicker at the edge of their vision—a streetlight from Earth, a palace tower from the Blood Realms, a Daqui temple blooming upside down in the sky.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"It's strange," Destiny said quietly. "Seeing all this… how far we've come. And how far we still have to go."

North nodded. "We've been through enough to fill ten seasons."

"It's more than that." She slowed her steps, her tone softening. "Even learning about ourselves. Vari… she's cruel. But it's not just malice. It's how she copes. She lies to herself—turns pain into control. Maybe Jafar did the same."

North's grin faded. "Yeah," he said. "A beast who clawed his way to divinity through blood and grit. Smiling while he did it."

Destiny looked at him. He looked back.

They walked in silence for a bit.

Destiny said at last. "We don't have to follow their path. We can be more than what made us."

North smiled faintly. "Maybe that's it, huh? The point. B'Raixa Daqui—an assassin who loved challenges. A woman who wanted to break a system made to break her."

"And Jafar," Destiny added, "a monster who became a god just to prove he could."

North let out a low whistle. "Sheesh."

"What?"

"This is a lot, that's all. But… I'm glad it's starting to make sense. Once you get past how you feel initially, the clarity's kinda nice. Maybe we've been overcomplicating everything."

"Overcomplicating?" Destiny raised an eyebrow. "My life and my Unraveling were perfectly under control until you showed up."

"Can you let me have this one?"

"I would," she said, smirking, "but I'm not sure if you have a past life lead."

North chuckled and sighed. "Is Vari and Jafar… close still?"

Destiny frowned. "Not that I know of. They're business partners at best. Vari doesn't do attachments." She crossed her arms. "Honestly, I was shocked to find out about this." She pointed between them.

North scratched his neck. "So… just to be clear… Jafar had dragons… and said it was from his lover…"

"Mhmm."

"And I know Vari's a snake."

"Technically, yes. But she also has dragons under her rule."

North blinked slowly. "So I got a thing for reptilian women."

Destiny stared at him, unamused.

He grinned. "Wild. But hey—I can't lie. I kinda see the charm."

She groaned. "You're insufferable."

"Consistently," he said, walking ahead. "It's part of my charm. But if the dragons weren't Vari's children then—"

"I don't know… again this is still new to me."

"I wonder… what caused them to drift apart."

Destiny didn't say anything.

North sighed. "So maybe… ya know… we see where this goes?"

"I don't know. Seems a bit unfair to attach myself to something that didn't work out."

"Pretty sure it was on your end—"

"Shut up. But I'll think about it… when this is all over I'll give you an answer."

North smiled, "That's cool. I guess it was a hard question to just drop."

Destiny stared ahead, the triple suns still trembling faintly above them. The air had grown quieter—the storm of light and distortion fading into a calm hum that vibrated under their feet. She tilted her head, expression caught somewhere between awe and unease.

"Um…"

Destiny glanced over. "What?"

He rubbed his arm. "Is the universe still a thing? Or are we, you know… slowly killing all of Requiem? Because I kinda promised the people I killed that I wouldn't be doing that."

She blinked. "That's what you're worried about?"

He frowned. "What else would I be worried about?"

She shrugged with a chuckle.

He threw his arms up. "I'm a lot of things—but I don't wanna be a liar, Destiny!"

She stared at him flatly. "You're unbelievable."

"Well, yeah! But a man is only as good as his word." he said, stepping over a patch of glowing blue grass that rippled like liquid.

"Who even cares if the timeline's gone?"

Silence.

They stood there, both frowning.

"…I hope it's not," North said quietly. "Besides—you feel it, right?"

Destiny nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's… pulsing. But not collapsing anymore."

The ground rippled faintly, a rhythm like a heartbeat. They weren't being torn apart—they were ascending, climbing back toward coherence.

Destiny exhaled, then looked over. "So what's your goal, Blood Prince?"

He grinned. "You first."

"I'm Vari's Jujisn," she said with a proud tilt of her chin. "Chosen champion of the Supreme House of Vari. And one day, I'll become the head of the family."

North's brow rose. "History repeats. Isn't that the opposite of what we are trying to do?"

"No." Destiny's smile sharpened. "Not by beating or consuming her. But by completing her. She's B'Raixa Daqui Vari—the one who survived and bled the land dry. But I'll be different. Where she's a snake…" She lifted her glowing hand, aura curling like molten gold. "…I'll be a dragon. B'Raixa Destiny Wiltmen—the Golden Dragon."

North wrinkled his nose. "Ew. 'Golden Dragon' sounds corny as hell."

"Shut up!" she snapped, glaring. "I'll work on the name."

He snickered. "Please do."

Destiny crossed her arms. "Fine, your turn. What about you?"

North sighed, looking out at the fractured horizon. "I'll make it quick before we accidentally destroy the realms. My goal's simple: keep moving forward. Be my own North Star."

He smiled faintly. "I'm Jonathan North—and I'll decide what to do with Jafar when I get there."

Destiny studied him for a second, then smiled too. "That's… actually not bad. Not really a plan but whatever helps you I guess…"

"I know," he said, grinning. "Very brandable."

She laughed, shaking her head.

They kept walking, the strange world twisting around them like it was alive—pink grass swaying to a rhythm only they could hear, suns aligning as though listening in.

"I should probably apologize to Jamal," Destiny said after a while. "Throwing him into that mess wasn't fair."

North nodded, hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Dude went through hell for your moral development arc."

Destiny groaned. "Don't call it that. And you supported my decision!"

"What?" He shook his head. "Imma need a citation for that. I remember being against throwing a mortal into divine rap battles."

She couldn't help but laugh. The sound echoed softly across the plains as the two of them kept walking—two broken pieces of larger myths, finally starting to make sense of who they were becoming.

They ascended. Not upward in the physical sense—but through themselves. Through everything that had ever chained them to who they were supposed to be. The ground beneath them broke apart into floating fragments of color, each piece humming softly as it rose with them. The pulse they'd felt earlier became a rhythm. The air shimmered gold and crimson, their auras blending and bleeding into each other until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Destiny closed her eyes and breathed. For her, it was smoother—like peeling away layers she no longer needed. The doubt, the anger, the echo of Vari's venom—all of it slid off her like old skin. What remained was something purer, quieter, and infinitely stronger. She felt whole for the first time in ages—not because she'd abandoned what she was, but because she'd finally accepted it.

North's ascent was rougher. Every second felt like walking through his own bloodstream while the past clawed at his ankles—Jafar's madness, Jonathan's hesitation, the hundreds of near-identities he'd worn trying to find one that fit. But with every heartbeat, it got clearer. Each pulse steadied his mind. He saw the next step. The real one.

When the fractured world started to come back into view, North smiled. The cracked horizon straightened, the skies rewove, and the shattered sunbeams converged into a single dawn.

He felt… complete.

Not perfect, not redeemed—but whole in a way that mattered.

He was mocked for talking about "narrative purpose" before. Caroline and that smug elf had laughed when he said narratives could be shaped for combat. Well, guess who was right.

He stood tall, light pooling around his feet, and stared forward with a smirk. There was much left undone—battles, debts, promises—but none of it belonged to Jafar anymore. None of it was chained to Jonathan either.

It was his.

North intended to shape the story his own way.

Yet Requiem doesn't care about intentions.

As alliances form, blood is spilled, and rules are rewritten by powers far beyond comprehension, he'll have to walk a razor's edge between evolution and erasure—between who he was, and what he dares to become.

—————

[Back Out In The Real World]

A spiral unfurled from their bodies—slow at first, then impossibly fast—rippling through the air like an unseen hand wiping across existence. The pulse expanded outward, distorting light, bending sound, rewriting every inch of the world it touched.

The city that once hung suspended over the abyss—those towering platforms stacked like shelves in the hollowed-out world—shuddered as the wave hit. Bridges of liquid light shattered into fragments, raining down into the infinite dark. The waterfalls that once glittered like stars dimmed to ash, their flow caught mid-fall, evaporating into glowing mist. Buildings twisted inward, before dissolving entirely.

And when it stopped, silence fell—a heavy, absolute quiet broken only by the whisper of wind through what was left.

What had been Avvereen—the city of element and machine—was gone.

The great terraces now teemed with survivors, scattered across broken platforms. Refugees of every kind—beast and metal, spirit and mortal—stumbled through the haze, drawn to what little remained of light. The air smelled of ozone and steel, the color of blood and dawn mixed into one.

Destiny exhaled, her golden aura dimming as she looked over the devastation. "We… really did that, huh?"

North stood beside her, hands in his pockets, staring down at the ruined expanse. A waterfall cracked in half behind them, breaking into a luminous rain that hissed as it met the abyss.

"Welp," he said flatly, lips twitching into a grim smirk. "Guess we're not getting our deposit back."

Destiny turned to glare at him.

"What? Too soon?"

She groaned, pressing a hand to her face.

He shrugged, eyes still scanning the destruction below.

"Hey! Hey, guys!"

Crisper's voice cracked through the dust and echo. She was standing on the edge of a half-collapsed platform, waving both arms, her hoodie torn and spattered with glowing ash.

Destiny blinked—and in a flicker of golden light, appeared beside her.

Crisper startled, then exhaled. "God, warn somebody before you pop in like that."

"Sorry." Destiny's tone was tired but soft. "You okay?"

Crisper looked her up and down, brow creasing. "I'm fine. You look… different, though. Like, seriously different."

Destiny tilted her head. "Different how?"

"Like you figured something out you shouldn't have, and now you're pretending it's totally normal."

Destiny almost smiled. "Close enough. I ascended."

Crisper stared at her. "…You what?"

Before Destiny could answer, a groan echoed from a few meters away. Both women turned.

Jamal lay sprawled across the cracked stone, Cale's coat draped over his chest like a trophy. Smoke rose faintly from his switch beside him, the barrel still warm.

Destiny hesitated, stepping closer. "Jamal, I—"

He sat up fast, eyes sharp. "Nah. Don't start."

She froze.

"Fuck you," he said, voice low. "You ever put me in a situation like that again, I don't care if you're a goddess or a princess—I'm puttin' one in your fuckin head."

The words hung heavy between them.

Destiny didn't argue. She just nodded once, eyes unreadable. "Fair."

Jamal scoffed and turned away, clutching the coat tighter. "Damn right it's fair."

Crisper stood there awkwardly, glancing between them. "Sooo… everyone's alive. That's good. That's… progress, right?"

Neither answered. The wind blew through the ruined city, carrying the sound of distant screams and breaking metal.

Yeah, Destiny thought quietly. Progress.

North exhaled, scanning the fractured skyline. The air was thick with fading light and static, the scent of burned ozone clinging to every breath. Then—two flickers of aura shimmered against the ruin's backdrop, one faint and unsteady, the other steady but strained.

He narrowed his eyes. "They made it."

Tabia landed first, half-carrying Ozzy on her shoulder. His white robe was soaked through with blood, the edges scorched and torn, yet that same crooked grin still lived on his face.

North made a face.

"Don't say it," Tabia muttered as she adjusted his weight.

"Say what?" Ozzy coughed, chuckling through the pain. "That I'm fine? Because I am! Just missing… a bit more blood than usual."

North raised a brow. "What the hell happened to you?"

Tabia straightened, her coral armor cracked in places. "Someone tried to kill you while you were trapped in the dome."

North frowned. "They hurt you this bad?"

Ozzy gave a weak salute. "By jumping in front of the shot."

"What?"

Tabia's jaw tightened. "He saved the assassin."

North blinked. "You what?"

Ozzy shrugged, wincing as his shoulder shifted. "I love everyone around me as equals. Wasn't his time to die."

Tabia rolled her eyes. "Your intelligence and intuition is a dual edge blade Captain."

"And yet still charming," he replied, leaning more heavily on her. "Besides, it ended fine. Domes are gone. Barriers are fading. We're all breathing. That's a win in my book."

North sighed, about to respond—then froze. A pressure rolled over the air, heavy and deliberate. He turned toward it, instinct already screaming before his eyes confirmed it.

Floating a few feet away, calm amid the ruin, was Cawren. His crimson eyes burned brighter than before, the edges of his aura like molten glass.

North met his gaze. The world went still. Black sigils pulsed in North's own eyes, matching the rhythm. No words passed between them—but they didn't need to. The message was there, silent and absolute.

North didn't know when, or how, but he understood it instinctively: this man would be the wall he'd one day have to break. A final hurdle.

He almost took a step forward—until motion caught his eye.

A woman brushed past him, her stride so serene it barely disturbed the ash beneath her feet. Her presence slid through the air like silk and venom, her aura humming with quiet, coiled power.

Two yellow, slit-pupiled eyes turned to meet his.

She smiled.

"Who?" North asked, his voice low, wary.

The woman didn't answer. She stepped forward, movements smooth and unhurried—then vanished in a single, soundless shift of air. Reappearing beside Cawren.

Cawren blinked, startled for the first time since the fighting stopped. "Ria… you're alive."

She gave him a sidelong look, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "You sound disappointed."

He frowned. "You disappeared. I assumed—"

"That I died?" she finished, smirking faintly. "Not yet. But it's cute you were worried."

Ozzy, bloodied but still somehow grinning, pointed across the ruined platform. "HA! I knew it! Told you, man—told you!"

Cawren groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You shut up." He turned back toward North, his crimson aura steady now, pulsing like a heartbeat. "Don't die before we meet again."

North tilted his head, smiling faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Then everything shifted.

The air stilled. The ground trembled—not from an explosion, but from something deeper, older. Everyone felt it at once: a pulse in their chests, an ache that wasn't pain but dread.

The dome's last light fractured and faded, revealing the horizon.

And there it was.

The golden venom.

No longer creeping, no longer distant—it towered. Vast waves of radiant, liquid gold surged across the landscape, swallowing cities, mountains, and sky. The air crackled with the sound of divine corrosion—like thunder breaking through glass.

Ozzy's smile vanished. Crisper gripped her weapon tighter. Even Cawren's breath caught.

Destiny's chest tightened—the same ache she'd felt before. "Vari," she whispered.

The realization hit all of them together.

The venom hadn't stopped at the borders. It had spread. Consumed. Rewritten. Delark itself was shrinking under the weight of Vari's will.

High above, the night fractured with the roar of engines. Fleets of ships ignited the upper atmosphere, scattering into the black as those outside the tournament tried to flee.

But for those still inside—for every Outlander, native, and divine bound by the game's rules—there was no escape.

And as the world began to collapse, North muttered under his breath, "Guess we're not done yet."

Cawren glanced down at his UI, the digital sheen of light reflecting against the chaos-torn sky. Lines of text and quest data scrolled past his eyes. The Mirrorless Monk—still alive. His expression darkened, then softened into a smirk. Good.

He flicked through the interface again, scanning North. The system confirmed what instinct already told him:

[Entity: Jafar Jujisn | Status: Significant Being (Blood Prince) North | Class: Ascended | Threat: Fluctuating | Event: Active]

A quiet laugh escaped him. "Not strong enough yet," he muttered, "but that's fine. All good things come to those who wait."

"Always the patient one," Ria teased beside him.

He turned to her, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "You planning on sticking around?"

She smiled and lifted her hand in a lazy wave.

Purple Ryun flickered around her body like ribbons caught in a storm. The air warped—twisting into a dome of shimmering dragon scales and dark, pulsing roots that coiled together like a living shell.

Cawren blinked, taken aback by the sight. "That's—"

"New," she finished for him, her grin widening. The scales rippled with light, hints of violet and gold bleeding through the surface. "Remember the pit? The second favorite host wasn't human. Dragonkin."

He watched as the dome thickened, sealing them in. The Ryun energy vibrated against his skin, potent and ancient. "You absorbed it."

"Yeah," she corrected playfully, her eyes gleaming. "You'd be amazed what a little curiosity can get you."

Cawren chuckled softly, shaking his head.

She stepped closer as the dome's light grew blinding.

He looked at the scales once more—the shifting, organic armor pulsing with power—and couldn't help but feel that same flicker of curiosity. Another layer of this endless, divine puzzle revealed itself before him.

Then, with a low hum and a surge of violet fire, Ria's dome collapsed inward.

The air cracked, leaving behind only drifting motes of Ryun dust.

And just like that, Ria and Cawren were gone.

Ozzy smiled weakly, resting his head against the cracked platform beneath him. "I'm glad he got what he wanted."

Tabia exhaled through her nose, hands glowing as she ran them over his wounds. "Captain, the poison in that shot and the amount of Ryun I used could've killed you. You were reckless—again."

Ozzy chuckled, wincing mid-laugh. "I know, I know. But it was worth it. Didn't feel right letting him die like that. Besides, I wasn't the one meant to beat that guy anyway."

"You weren't meant to?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked. "Nah. Some fights ain't yours to win. They're just yours to interrupt."

Tabia sighed, shoulders loosening as the last of the light faded from her palms. "I shouldn't have stepped in."

"Hey," he said, tapping her arm, "don't apologize. You did what you had to. I'm still here, aren't I? That's more than I can say for everyone else…. Speaking of which."

He shifted, pulling a small communicator from his waist. The cracked screen flickered to life, static and faint voices humming through. "Gotta check on the rest of the crew," he murmured, tuning the signal. "Can't have the lads thinking we croaked."

A few yards away, Destiny knelt beside Crisper, who was sitting cross-legged with her sniper rifle leaning against her shoulder.

"So…" Crisper started, eyes flicking toward the unconscious Jamal. "He'll forgive you eventually. Probably. Once he stops being dramatic."

Destiny frowned. "I wasn't trying to use him. Well… not intentionally."

"I know," Crisper said softly. "You were trying to survive. Can't fault you for that. Still… try not to throw the next guy into a divine rap battle without warning, yeah?"

Destiny managed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I know. I know."

The laughter faded into silence. The air hummed with residual static from the fading dome—quiet but heavy.

North stood a few steps away, watching the area where Ria and Cawren had vanished. His thoughts churned, replaying the look in Cawren's eyes, the dome, the energy, the promise of another confrontation. Two new threats—two pieces of a larger puzzle.

He overheard Ozzy talking, the sound of his light-hearted tone oddly grounding. He wanted to go over, to check in, to make sure everyone was truly alright—but his body refused to move. His aura was drained, every fiber of his being stretched thin.

Ozzy's voice cracked the silence.

"It's been two weeks!"

Everyone froze.

Destiny blinked. "What?"

Ozzy stared at the communicator, his tone shifting from disbelief to dread. "The internal clock on this thing—look. It's been two weeks since we went into that dome. Two weeks since I last got a ping from the crew. And no one's responding."

North felt his stomach twist. His heart lurched into his throat. Two weeks? The golden venom, the Unraveling, all of it—how much time had they lost? His mind immediately went to one name. Civen? No, calm down. Breathe.

He forced his legs to move, stumbling toward Ozzy as the captain kept adjusting the signal. Static. Then more static. Then—

"Hello?"

North froze. His breath caught. That voice—

He nearly ripped the communicator out of Ozzy's hands. Ozzy just handed it over, no hesitation, his usual smirk replaced by concern. Tabia looked irritated at the grab but said nothing, her eyes narrowing.

North pressed the receiver close. "Sšurtinaui! What happened? You guys okay?!"

For a moment, only static. Then a weak, ragged voice. "We thought you… you…"

A fit of coughing cut her off.

North's chest constricted. "Sšurtinaui! Stay with me! Where are you?"

Her breath crackled through the line. "We… made it to the tree…"

"Sšurtinaui!" he yelled again, his voice shaking.

"It wasn't… too bad…" she said faintly, "but Tinsurnae… wasn't the same afterwards…"

North's knees went weak. Tinsurnae… No. No, that couldn't—

"The being in black…" she whispered. "The chaos… this team attacked us… and then—"

"Sšurtinaui! Where are you? We can find you! What happened?!"

Her voice trembled, fading in and out. "The being… in black…"

North's grip on the communicator tightened until it cracked. "Sšurtinaui! Where's Caroline?!" The words came out raw—he didn't care about the name slip anymore. "Where is she?!"

Silence.

Then, a small, broken whisper. "I'm… so sorry, North…"

"Sšurtinaui—don't—don't do that, just tell me where you are! Who the FUCK attacked you?!"

A breath. The sound of wind.

Then three words.

"We… were… betrayed."

The line went dead.

And in that silence, something in North's chest fractured.