CHAPTER 1351: HOME AT LAST

...Father Black took a calm step forward, and like mist in morning light, his form passed seamlessly through the walls of the command center—neither phasing them nor distorting space around him. It was as though reality itself bowed to his presence, allowing him to step into the vacuum of space unchallenged, untouched.

By now, the battle was over. Perseus and Crusher floated in the glittering void, bruised, scorched, and yet—laughing heartily like old friends reunited over wine, except it was with their fists.

Crusher’s war hammer still crackled faintly with residual energy, and despite its terrifying size, it rested comfortably on his back now.

Perseus chuckled, patting Crusher’s shoulder. "That hammer of yours... that’s no toy. I swear it cracked my bones."

Crusher smirked, flexing one arm as thick as a space cannon. "And your demon rank? Tch. I almost thought you’d killed me for real back there. You’ve grown strong. Without this hammer... I doubt I could’ve kept up."

Before Perseus could respond, the air around them shimmered slightly as Father Black drifted into view like a phantom on a breeze. No teleportation flare. No energy signature. Just... presence.

Perseus blinked, then grinned. "Old man... What the hell are you now? Walking in and out of dimensional cities like it’s a stroll in the garden. What rank are you?"

Father Black’s laugh was deep and slow, with that same knowing mischief that Perseus had always remembered. "A hundred years without a hug, and all you care about is my rank?" he teased, before finally answering, "Arcane Realm."

Perseus froze.

The Arcane Realm... a mythical realm, above all the Demon Ranks. After this was the star rank. Meaning Father Black might one day become an Eveningstar. Of course, this was easier said than done. Also, the amount of resources for this was no small matter. Even lucifer did not find growing in rabk so easy after waling up.

Regardless, so rare the Arcane Realm was that only the principalities and powers had it. And now the old regent stood among them.

Perseus blinked, then chuckled, his voice a bit hoarse. "I guess the planet’s favor gave you a boost, huh?"

Crusher folded his arms. "That and the favor of his wife—the goddess Demeter," he added dryly.

Perseus turned, almost choking. "Wait... what? You got married!?"

Father Black scratched his chin with a sheepish smile. "A lot’s happened, boy. There’s catching up to do. Come... bring the pups home."

---

Suddenly, across the floating megastructure, alarms shifted from alert mode to landing sequence. The once cold blue interior lights flushed to a soft amber. Giant mechanical arms, previously folded along the city’s body, rotated with planetary precision.

ROBOTIC ANNOUNCEMENT:

"City of Milk and Honey has been granted planetary clearance. Initiating descent protocols. All departments brace for gravitational alignment."

At the city’s underside, hexagonal platforms began to unfold like the petals of a steel flower. Immense thrusters ignited with teal fire, slowing the descent through gravitational synchronizers. Anti-mass stabilizers pulsed with harmonic frequency, calming the transition from zero-G to atmospheric pull.

Shield plates along the city’s side glowed, recalibrating as giant friction dampeners absorbed the burning heat of planetary entry.

On the golden grasslands of Demeter, the people looked to the sky as the clouds parted. The enormous silhouette of the City of Milk and Honey pierced the heavens, sunlight streaming behind it like the chariot of a god returning home.

Meanwhile, within the city, children clutched their mothers. Elders wept. Priests fell to their knees.

It had been too long since they were away from home. Their ancestors had left their home world a long time ago. It was hundred years according to earth’s time, but to them that went to a semi plane, it was over a thousand years ago.

But now, they were reunited.

The metallic city shimmered like a divine temple, slowly descending with arcs of plasma guiding its movement.

Hovering just above the ground, massive support pylons extended from the city’s belly and slammed gently into earth, anchoring the megastructure. Then, hydraulic systems hissed and locked into place. City-wide gravity was rebalanced.

And then... silence.

The gates began to open.

The people of the Werewolf pack , once gone for the sake of the Eighth Earth’s future, were finally... home.

The gates of the City of Milk and Honey opened with a deep, resonant chime—like a temple bell that echoed across time itself. Steam hissed from the seams, and the golden light of Demeter’s sun poured into the vast interior, bathing the departing citizens in warm radiance.

Slowly, carefully, they stepped out.

Their boots met soil not touched in generations. Some knelt immediately to kiss the earth. Others wept openly, their faces streaked with tears as they took in the foreign-yet-familiar horizon of their ancestral home. No one spoke. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the soft wind rustling across the grasslands.

Then came the roar.

Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of Demeter’s inhabitants erupted in thunderous cheers. They had gathered in massive columns along the landing fields. From every hill and platform, people waved banners of welcome, tossed flower petals into the air, and cried out in joy.

And above them floated radiant beings—avatars of the gods.

They stood mid-air, unmoving, as though the laws of gravity obeyed them. Each one was a towering presence of light and divine authority. One radiated flames, another shimmered like liquid crystal. A feminine figure wrapped in ribbons of living wind spun slowly, her voice carrying hymns that echoed across space and soul. Another—taller than the others—was cloaked in deep purple shadow, his glowing eyes watching quietly.

The very skies themselves had parted. Clouds curled back to reveal a dome of holy light, and for a moment, it felt like the gods themselves had opened the gates of heaven to welcome home lost children.

And then Perseus descended from the sky.

He landed before the path with effortless grace, war cloak billowing behind him. With a sweep of his hand, crimson Aether surged outward—and from it unfurled a vast red carpet. Woven from threads of stardust and reinforced cosmis energy. It extended like a royal river from the gates of the city to the far ceremonial platform, hundreds of meters away.

At its end stood the Lenny Royal Family.

Perseus paused.

There was Morgana. She had changed—older, yes, but more than that. She exuded command now. Her red gown fluttered softly in the breeze, cut to be elegant but strong, beautiful yet reserved. Her black hair coiled like a crown, and her eyes glowed faintly with power—quiet, unshaken, enduring.

Beside her stood Insect B.

Perseus blinked in disbelief. She had transformed.

Her humanoid form now towered at twelve feet, and though her figure had retained its grace, it bore the unmistakable mark of evolution. Four symmetrical eyes blinked intelligently on her face, while the rest of her body—though mostly human—held subtle traces of polished insectoid armor beneath the skin, like iridescent tattoos. A warrior. A protector. A queen in her own right.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Perseus took a step forward. Then another. His smile was wide, unsure, and genuine. Despite everything... he was home.

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Morgana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Her hug was firm. Real.

No words. Just the bond of survivors.

And then, surprisingly, Insect B bowed her head slightly. "You’ve grown stronger, Perseus," she said, her voice carrying a faint echo of some new power she’d acquired. "This Demon Rank suits you."

He could only chuckle.

Footsteps approached behind them.

And then came Elder Zod...