Chapter 39 — The Twelfth Toll

The rope shivered in the silver-eyed girl’s grip.

Kael lunged, every vein in his body screaming, his blade wreathed in black fire. He cut through the storm of chains, forcing his way toward the bell. If he could stop her—if he could end this—maybe the world would survive.

“STOP!” he roared, his sword descending.

The girl smiled faintly… and pulled.

DOOOOOONG.

The twelfth toll erupted, not as sound—but as silence.

Everything collapsed. The air, the sky, the earth—stripped bare in an instant. For a heartbeat, there was nothing. No sound. No breath. No existence.

Then came the return.

The rift ripped wide, no longer cracks in the heavens but a gaping wound across reality. From it poured light and shadow braided together, vast and incomprehensible. A figure began to descend, impossibly tall, its presence alone bending the city beneath invisible weight. Its form shifted constantly—sometimes a crowned king, sometimes a beast of countless wings, sometimes nothing but eyes in the dark.

The Forgotten Sovereign.

Kael’s knees buckled under the weight of its gaze. His blade rattled in his hand. The creature of chains—the one that had threatened to consume him moments ago—bowed its head like a dog before its master.

The silver-eyed girl whispered, her voice trembling with reverence.
“At last… the true author of fate returns.”

Kael spat blood into the dirt, forcing himself to stand against the impossible. His eyes burned with fury.
“You can tear apart the sky… you can break this world in half… but I won’t kneel.”

The Sovereign’s countless voices answered as one, layered and eternal.
“Then you will be unmade.”

And with a gesture, the god reached down toward him.