All of the deities, once erased by the Outworldly were now returning with fury, confusion, and ravenous hunger. Some cried out in ancient languages. Some roared. Some wept. Some simply cracked their necks and smiled. The Overseer spread his arms wider as his voice rang out like divine command: "Come, my children. Your Overseer has revived you." A united roar shook space itself. Nocturnis laughed, long and loud as shadows swirled around him like a hurricane. "Ahhh… I have missed this sound." Then the Overseer finished the declaration that sealed the fate of the cosmos: "The Outworldly is dead. Mortals are leaderless. The age of gods has returned. And this universe… now belongs to us." Darkness swelled. Light trembled. The cosmos, vast and ancient, held its breath… …as the new era of divine tyranny began. ... ... The old universe had always feared the return of the deities until their names were erased, their temples shattered and they became unknown to the generation that came after thanks to the Outworldly erasing them. Mortals grew bold in their absence, formed alliances, built better civilizations, forged the very idea of freedom beneath starlight. Which gave birth to what the universe was today. But the moment the Outworldly fell… The moment his light flickered out… The cosmos knew something unspeakable had been released. And soon enough, the sky tore. Pillars of blackened radiance, twisted auroras of corrupted divinity, and colossal silhouettes stepped out of the intercosmic cracks. PLANET VYRALION — Vyralion was a world of water and floating civilizations. The people lived on massive, drifting citadels made of condensed vaporstone. They were known for their peaceful hearts and unrivaled creative arts. When the deities returned, they gazed downward at the drifting cities with fascination. One deity descended who was a being of shimmering blue radiance with eyes like whirlpools. This was Asterion, God of Endless Tides. The Vyralions bowed immediately. They had read ancient warnings; they knew what defiance meant. The High Speaker of Vyralion knelt, forehead touching the ground. "Great Asterion, we welcome your return. Please spare us." Asterion gave a warm, comforting and utterly deceptive smile. He lowered his colossal hand, brushing the tops of their heads with tenderness. "You bow well," Asterion whispered. "In another era… I might have allowed you to live." Confusion flickered across their faces. "In another era," he repeated, "when I still believed mortals mattered." The ocean convulsed. Massive whirlpools tore open. The floating cities cracked and twisted. Asterion flicked his fingers. Every single Vyralion citizen burst into water, dissolving, vanishing, becoming droplets lost in the waves. Their screams were muffled as their forms evaporated into mist. It took twelve seconds for the entire population to disappear. The deity lingered only long enough to whisper into the empty sky: "You were always only a reflection. Nothing more." And then Vyralion sank beneath its own sea. --- PLANET ZERTHA — Zertha was not defenseless. It was a super-fortress of a world, brimming with supernaturals, arcane warriors, and technomancers. It had survived three cosmic wars and defeated threats that once terrified entire galaxies. When the deities appeared above their planet, Zerthan cannons shot skyward instantly. Swirling beams of antimatter. Chains of gravitational thunder. Missiles laced with star cores. For a moment, hope existed. Then the deities laughed. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't cruel. It was simply… amused. One deity named Drokhal stepped forward. He was the Hand of Conflict... a towering armored titan with six arms and a roaring furnace for a heart. He stretched one hand in Zertha's direction and every weapon ceased functioning. Cannons froze mid-rotation. Energy beams turned to dust. Runic circles cracked and bled sparks. Even the thoughts of warriors, battle strategies, spells, intentions, were wiped clean. "The mortal concept of war…" Drokhal's voice boomed, "…belongs to me. You do not get to use my gift against me." Zerthan generals fell to their knees, clutching their heads as their minds collapsed under the weight of divine coercion. Drokhal descended to the surface and calmly walked through the strongest military the universe had ever seen. He didn't kill them immediately. He simply placed his hand on the ground. A wave of crushing, bone-shattering force exploded outward. Millions died instantly, reduced to bloodmist. Entire continents fractured open. The planet's core cracked like an egg. Still, Zertha fought. Their supernaturals charged, roaring and releasing everything they had. But against a deity? They were insects. Drokhal swept his hand again. This time, Zertha split in half. Lava erupted into space. Cities fell into the void. Millions more died silently as the vacuum swallowed them. As the planet broke apart, Drokhal whispered: "You fought bravely. But bravely is not enough." And Zertha was no more. --- PLANET AURIA — Auria had always been a religious world. Their priests, monks, and oracles had preserved stories of the deities long after other planets forgot. When the Overseer revived the divine pantheon, Auria rejoiced. Temple bells rang. Processions filled the streets. Millions knelt, weeping with joy. "We are your faithful!" they cried. "We never abandoned you!" The deity who appeared above Auria was Vashti, the Essence of Radiant Judgment. Her form was that of a massive woman of pure white flame with wings spreading across the horizon. The Aurians bowed until their foreheads bled, chanting praises. Vashti said nothing. She merely raised her hand. A blinding column of white pierced through the atmosphere, engulfing every living thing on the surface. It burned cleanly—not leaving ashes, not leaving shadows, not leaving a trace of life. Even the priests did not have time to scream. When the light faded, the planet was pristine, empty and silent. Vashti gazed upon her cleansed creation. "Worship," she murmured, "means ownership." Then she turned and searched for her next world. --- PLANET HEDROS — Hedros was a fractured world carved by poverty and ancient wars. Its people were exhausted, starving, and desperate long before the gods returned. When the first deity descended... Or'Mahal, Devourer of Suffering, Hedros trembled. The deity's form was made of twisting bones, writhing flesh, and thousands of screaming mouths. He towered across the capital city, blotting out the sky entirely. The Hedrosian Prime Chancellor crawled out of a shattered palace and collapsed. "Please… please… show mercy…" The deity bent low as its many faces contorted iinto a grotesque smile. "Oh, little one," Or'Mahal purred, "I am showing mercy." He paused briefly. "Your suffering is exquisite. I have missed it greatly." The skies blackened as the air filled with whispering mouths. The shadows stretched into claws. Citizens screamed as their emotions were drained... Fear, despair, guilt, anguish—all devoured by the deity like fine wine. He didn't kill them instantly. That would have been merciful. He prolonged every moment, savoring it. Feeding on it. Letting Hedros bleed emotionally before the physical destruction began. And when nothing remained... no hope, no sanity, no voices... Or'Mahal swallowed the entire capital in a single, monstrous gulp of distorted gravity. Only ruins remained. --- PLANET TERRAYN — Terrayn was part of the Universal Alliance. They knew the deities were returning due to the broadcast the alliance had sent out. They already knew of the annihilation of Vyralion, Zertha, and Auria across interplanetary surveillance networks. Mass evacuations had long began. But no evacuation was fast enough.