CHAPTER 422: CH 422: A SECOND CHANCE - PART 3

In the towering celestial palace that sat at the very core of the divine realm, the god of wind, cloaked in emerald and silver, strode down the radiant halls toward the chief god’s chamber.

Every step echoed with defiance.

Servants and minor gods moved aside, casting wary glances. No one dared approach him, but everyone knew—he was walking straight into a storm.

Two towering divine guardians barred his path at the chamber’s gate.

"The chief god is not receiving any audience."

One said.

"I am not here to ask. Let him refuse me to my face."

The god of wind growled, wind swirling dangerously around his form.

The guardians looked at one another. Protocol demanded rejection—but pressure from the swirling gales forced their knees to bend.

Wordlessly, they parted, and the colossal gates opened.

The chamber of the chief god was vast and empty, save for the lone throne carved of cosmic stone and lined with flowing light.

The chief god reclined lazily upon it, eyes half-closed as if bored with existence itself.

"So noisy. What troubles you this time, Zephyr?"

the chief god murmured without lifting his gaze.

The god of wind bowed his head stiffly.

"We are down to six."

"Mm?"

"Six gods remain. A year ago, we were a pantheon. Now? Whispers speak of Kyle Armstrong killing another one last night. The mortals are getting bolder. You—"

"You mean we-"

The chief god interrupted, opening his eyes at last. They shimmered with galaxies and indifference.

"-We let this happen."

"Then what is your plan? The people are turning away from us. Kyle Armstrong is converting the continent. Our divinity weakens by the day!"

Zephyr’s voice cracked like thunder.

The chief god smiled.

"I told you. Preparations are already underway. A new god is being born. Or perhaps reborn. The godly realm trembles in anticipation. That power will correct the imbalance."

Zephyr narrowed his eyes.

"Who?"

"She is in good hands. Goddess Lucia oversees the awakening."

The chief god said smoothly.

Zephyr’s jaw dropped.

"Lucia? Are you mad?"

The wind around him turned jagged, erratic.

"She betrayed us in the last war. She sold our secrets. She nearly destroyed your throne! And now you’re handing her the reins to our final defense?!"

The chief god’s expression remained unmoved.

"Lucia has repented. Her hatred of Kyle burns brighter than any devotion. I need not your worry, Zephyr—only your patience."

Zephyr clenched his fists.

"This could be another trick. If we lose that new god, if Lucia switches sides again..."

"Then we lose. But this generation of gods has proven... disappointing. No vision. No obedience. I have no interest in preserving such a pantheon."

The chief god finished for him, smiling bitterly.

Zephyr recoiled.

"What are you saying?"

The chief god looked toward the ceiling, where threads of divine fate drifted like stardust.

"I’m saying this is your final test. If we survive, the new generation will be created in my image. Perfect. Loyal. You’re just the... prototype."

Zephyr turned and left without another word, his face pale with realization.

Once the doors closed behind him, the chief god let out a long, tired sigh. The room fell silent. And then, with a wry smirk, he whispered.

"Poor Zephyr. Always so earnest. But you’re already obsolete."

Elsewhere.

A pale, endless white stretched in every direction. There was no up, no down, no gravity. Only silence.

Silvy drifted within it, barefoot and hollow-eyed, her silver hair billowing as if underwater.

"Where... am I?"

She took a step, but nothing changed. Another step, still nothing. No point of reference. No sound but the soft beat of her heart.

She stopped walking.

"Is this... death?"

Her voice didn’t echo. There was no wind, no warmth, no pain. Only a profound numbness. Her limbs felt light. Too light. As if she didn’t belong in any physical world anymore.

She looked down, expecting to see her body—but there was only shimmering light.

She clenched her hands.

"Kyle..."

The memory of his voice echoed in her mind—faint, but real. Her lips trembled.

"Don’t forget me."

She whispered, and the space remained indifferent.

Then—

A faint ripple passed through the white.

Silvy turned.

A glimmer of something flickered far away. A single thread of gold. It shimmered like a sunbeam through fog.

Without hesitation, Silvy ran.

No more aimless drifting—this thread gave her a direction. Her breath quickened. The thread led her toward something, someone.

Each step filled her heart with warmth again, and she felt the faintest trace of Kyle’s mana lingering around it. As if he had left her a path.

"I’m not dead yet. And I won’t be."

She whispered fiercely.

And so she ran, chasing the light that only her heart could see.

The endless white pressed down on Silvy from every direction. It wasn’t warm or cold. It simply was, like an all-consuming void that stripped away her senses.

There was no sky, no ground—just an endless, soft nothingness that threatened to erase her from existence.

She stopped walking for a moment and tried to gather mana in her hands, willing the comforting pulse of energy she had known all her life. But nothing came.

Her breath caught.

"What...?"

She tried again. Harder. Her fingers trembled. A faint glow sparked at her fingertips—then fizzled, vanishing like a dying ember.

"No. Why can’t I use mana?"

She whispered, panic creeping in.

It wasn’t like before, when her powers had been suppressed by another force. This felt different—emptier. Like something deep inside her had dried out. She clutched her chest, but even her connection to the great elf tree felt gone.

"I’ve never felt this before. Not even when the tree lost its blessing..."

She muttered, shaking her head.

Was this place draining her? Or had she truly fallen too far?

She refused to stop. Clenching her fists, she forced herself to move again.

"I won’t give up. I have to find the way back."

She said under her breath.

She walked. And walked. Time stretched. Her legs began to ache, her breath shortened. There was no food, no rest. The white never changed. No matter how far she walked, it always looked the same.

Her determination began to fray at the edges. Her mind drifted. Was this punishment for her weakness? For needing to be saved again?

"Kyle...I’m sorry..."

She whispered.

Her steps faltered.

She dropped to her knees.

"I... I can’t see the end..."

Her eyes stung, though no tears came. The nothingness wouldn’t allow even that.

And then—

A voice.

Faint, but clear.

"Silvy."

Her eyes widened.

"Kyle...?"

The voice came again, stronger this time.

"Silvy. Can you hear me?"

Her heart surged. She shot to her feet, eyes scanning the void. There was no direction to look, but she felt the presence—familiar, warm, unyielding.

"Yes! I hear you! Where are you?!"

She shouted, spinning in place.

There was no answer. Just the faint echo of his name, carried on a breeze that had no right to exist in this place.

But to Silvy, it was enough.

She wasn’t alone.

He was here. Somewhere.

And she would find him.

Silvy steadied her breath, eyes burning with resolve.

"Wait for me, Kyle!"

She whispered, beginning to walk again, this time with purpose. Every step felt lighter, fueled by hope.

The white still stretched endlessly, but now—now it had meaning. She wasn’t lost. She was heading toward him. Toward home.