THE AFTERMATH
The battlefield was silent now, but the air still carried the echoes of war—the groans of the wounded, the whispers of the dying, and the heavy breaths of those who had survived. The ground was stained with blood, and broken weapons lay scattered like forgotten bones.
Lesu, his voice strong but filled with sorrow, called out to his soldiers. "Troops! Tend to our fallen. Cleanse their bodies. Send them home for burial."
The soldiers moved with slow, careful steps, their hands gentle as they lifted the dead. They wiped the dirt from their faces, straightened their torn armor, and closed their lifeless eyes. The wounded were carried away on stretchers, their pain eased by healers who worked tirelessly. Rewards were given—gold for their families, relics to remember their bravery, and promises that their sacrifices would never be forgotten.
And so, the fallen were returned to their loved ones. Their names were written in history, carved into stone so that no one would forget what they had done. The survivors gathered around fires, eating and drinking in silence. Some wept. Others stared into the flames, their hearts heavy with loss.
The war was over, but its shadow would linger forever.
THE HIGH HEADS HOME
A COSMIC RECKONING
Scene I: The Messenger's Summons
High above the battlefield, in a tower that pierced the heavens, the air hummed with power. Dark energy twisted through the jagged walls, like invisible snakes slithering in the shadows.
Krelious stood by a great arched window, his black robes swallowing the light around him. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice—rough and cold—cut through the silence like a blade.
"Messenger."
From the darkness, a figure appeared. It was made of flickering starlight, its body shifting like smoke. It knelt before Krelious, its head nearly touching the floor.
"Yes, my lord," the Messenger whispered.
Krelious did not turn. His eyes were fixed on a distant planet, where the fate of many would soon be decided.
"Send word to all members of my council," he commanded. "In two weeks, we meet in the Judge Room on King Hax's planet. No excuses. No delays."
The Messenger's form trembled, as if the words themselves were too heavy to bear.
"As you command, my lord. Your words shall become law."
With a ripple in the air, the Messenger vanished, leaving only silence behind.
The Council Acknowledges
Nealon's Sanctuary
Nealon lived in a palace of living crystal. The walls sang when she touched them, their music soft and beautiful. Her silver hair flowed like liquid metal, shimmering in the pale light.
The Messenger appeared before her in a flash of broken light.
"The summons is given, Lady Nealon. The Judge Room awaits."
Nealon smiled, but her eyes were cold.
"Thank you, Messenger. Tell Krelious I will be there."
The Messenger bowed low.
"Your grace honors me, my lady."
Zielan's Fortress
Zielan's home was a fortress of black stone, floating in the emptiness of space. His armor was covered in ancient runes, each one telling the story of a battle he had won.
When the Messenger arrived, Zielan barely looked up.
"I will be there," he growled.
The Messenger's voice echoed in the dark.
"Your presence is noted, my lord."
Akermos's Throne of Embers
Akermos sat upon a throne made from the heart of a dying star. Fire danced around him, casting shadows that twisted like living things.
When the Messenger appeared, flames leaped into the air.
"It's about time," Akermos laughed, his voice like thunder. "I can't wait."
The Messenger bowed, unshaken by the heat.
"As you command, my lord."
As the Messenger disappeared, Akermos clenched his fists. Fire exploded in his palms, burning like tiny suns.
"The war in the Reveiverse was just the beginning," he whispered. "More is coming." His grin turned wicked. "Yoton… I hope you're still alive. Because the next war? You have a part to play in it."
The Reveiverse's Scars
Two months had passed since the great battle. The Reveiverse was broken—worlds lay in ruins, their cities reduced to dust. The air smelled of smoke and death.
Carel stood on the remains of a once-great city, his armor cracked, his body tired. The wind howled around him, carrying the voices of the dead.
"Two months… and still the echoes won't fade," he muttered.
Around him, soldiers moved like shadows, their faces empty from grief.
"My lord, we are done here," one said.
"The last of the dead are buried," another whispered.
"All casualties—gods, humans, monsters, hybrids, mutants, demons—recovered and laid to rest," a third reported.
Carel closed his eyes. The weight of so many lives lost pressed down on him.
"You've done well," he said at last. "Now… we bring the survivors home."
The soldiers stood tall, their fists clenched in determination.
"Sir!" they shouted together.
Planet Saga's Liberation
Location: The Barrier Gates of Saga
King Saga stood before the great barrier—a shimmering dome of magic that had protected his people during the war. His crown was cracked, but his spirit was unbroken.
With a deep breath, he raised his hands.
"Open the gates!" he commanded. "The war is over!"
A cry rose from the crowd—some wept, others laughed, their voices filled with both joy and sorrow.
Among them, Azarel stood alone, her fingers pressed to her lips.
"I pray you're alright, Lord Carel," she whispered.
Suddenly, a shout cut through the noise.
"Incoming! An army approaches!"
The soldiers drew their weapons, ready to fight once more.
But King Saga's voice stopped them.
"Wait!" he called. "Look—it's… it's Lord Carel!"
On the horizon, figures emerged from the dust—Carel and his legion, their silhouettes dark against the rising sun.
The survivors gasped. Some fell to their knees in relief. Others ran forward, their arms outstretched.
The war had ended.
But the story was far from over.
To Be Continued.