The battlefield cracked again.
Not from the heat.
Not from the frost.
But from pressure.
Something old was walking forward.
The gods parted.
And he stepped through.
A being not of a single concept—but all of them refined into one. A high deity whose name was carved on the oldest laws—Veythros, the God of Alignment. He who ruled convergence. Who once made titans kneel and silenced the flames of ten suns with a whisper.
His presence was not loud.
It simply corrected the world.
His body shimmered with axioms. Every step he took turned chaos into harmony. The battlefield straightened. The wind obeyed. Fire dimmed. Ice faltered. Aria and Alfred both felt it at once.
"He's… neutralizing us," Aria muttered, sweat forming on her temple.
Alfred clenched his fists. "He's aligning the field. Stripping away extremes."
Veythros raised his hand.
