A Battle That Shook the Heavens: the battle on final valley of universe

  

  [Year 0737 : May] the year of calamity or the final battle

  The sky was shattered.

  Fragments of divine light rained upon the battlefield as three beings clashed amidst the ruins of a once-sacred realm. The heavens trembled under their power, space itself distorting with each attack. Two divine figures—one clad in radiant gold, the other wreathed in celestial light—stood against a lone warrior.

  The unknown warrior’s long blue hair flowed like the tide of the cosmos, streaked with hints of violet, his peacock armor glimmering under the fractured sky. His presence was overwhelming—an aura that blurred the line between mortal and god.

  The Protector raised his divine spear, golden energy crackling along its edges. Beside him, the Generator wove the fabric of reality, bending it to his will.

  Yet, the lone warrior stood unshaken.

  “Just stop,”Protector’s voice rang out, carrying the weight of the heavens. “We will forgive you.”

  The unknown warrior didn’t respond. His violet eyes, deep as the abyss, stared at them—empty, unwavering. His hands twitched, as if suppressing something within.

  Then—

  A memory resurfaced, sharp and merciless.

  ---

  Flashback of his old memory

  A river bathed in silver moonlight. Dark, endless, hungry.

  A woman—no, a nun—Cilia, her robes torn, her face bruised, carried a young boy through the chilling waters. Her breathing was ragged, but she didn’t stop.

  She couldn’t.

  Behind them, shadows moved.

  Piranhas. Their eyes glowed red, their fangs glistened like serrated knives as they surged toward them.

  “Hold on,” Cilia whispered, her voice soft despite the terror. “We’re almost—”

  A sudden pull.

  A sharp scream.

  The waters turned red.

  The boy clung to a rock, helpless, as the currents dragged cilia away. She didn't fight. She only smiled, her eyes filled with warmth, not fear, even as the creatures tore into her flesh.

  The last thing the boy saw was her outstretched hand, sinking beneath the surface.

  ---

  Battle scene

  A gust of wind howled through the battlefield as the unknown warrior’s fingers twitched—and the storm answered.

  BOOM!

  The wind curved like a living blade, slashing toward the gods.

  Protector raised his spear—a radiant shield of holy energy flared to life, deflecting the attack. But the moment it made contact, cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.

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  Generator struck back.

  Reality itself twisted, forming a spiraling mass of condensed divinity. The force of creation and destruction compressed into a single strike, hurtling toward the lone warrior.

  He did not dodge.

  He walked forward.

  His peacock armor shimmered, the winds twisted, and illusion became reality.

  The divine attack passed through him, striking empty space.

  A whisper brushed the gods’ ears.

  “…Too slow.”

  A second later, Generator staggered back, blood spilling from his mouth—his very soul wounded by an attack unseen.

  Protector’s expression twisted into something between rage and fear.

  ---

  Generator coughed, golden ichor staining his lips. Protector glanced at him, his once unwavering resolve now shaking.

  They had underestimated him.

  Again.

  “We should have listened…”Generator murmured.

  Protector clenched his jaw. This was a mistake. A grave mistake. But it was too late to turn back now.

  Before they could react, the unknown warrior stepped forward. The winds calmed—and the world held its breath.

  But his mind was already elsewhere.

  ---

  Second Flashback, god's old memory

  The boy knelt before the grand temple gates, his small hands trembling as he clutched the cold stone floor.

  The temple was vast, bathed in golden light. Yet, it was empty.

  No angels descended.

  No divine voice called.

  Only one priest stood before him, silent.

  The boy’s voice was raw, broken. “…Why?”

  No answer.

  His fingers dug into the stone. “Cilia was good. She always worshipped you.”

  Silence.

  “Maria, too. They all did. But you let them die.”

  The priest’s gaze faltered. He said nothing.

  Far beyond the mortal world, in the divine realm, the gods watched.

  Generator laughed. “Another orphan’s cry. How many of these do we hear in a day?”

  Destroyer’s expression darkened. “Something is… different. His voice reaches us too clearly.”

  Protector waved a dismissive hand. “If you’re so interested, make him your successor, you're still without successor.”

  Then they all laughed. And ignored it as it was a joke.

  And the boy below wept into the empty silence of the temple.

  ---

  Battle scene

  The battlefield returned.

  But something had changed.

  The unknown warrior’s hand rose, and the air itself trembled.

  The gods’ eyes widened.

  “NO.”

  The winds coiled like a living storm. The sky darkened, swallowed by a power beyond comprehension.

  This was no simple attack.

  This was the end.

  The unknown warrior whispered a name, a command, a sentence of death—

  And the world turned black.

  Flash back of his old memory

  

  [Year 0712] 25 years before calamity or near present time.

  The battlefield was gone.

  Now, there was only the quiet hum of a sleeping city. A **rooftop bathed in moonlight**, where two boys sat.

  A cool breeze ruffled their hair.

  One of them, younger, with bright eyes, stretched his arms. “brother, what will you become?”

  The older boy remained silent, gazing at the stars. Then—

  “…God.”

  A chuckle.

  Then, laughter.

  The younger one grinned. **“You’re joking, right?”**

  The older one **smiled**, but his **fist clenched**, nails biting into his palm.

  His eyes were still fixed on the sky—unwavering.

  Because he wasn’t joking.

  Not at all.

  ---

  End of Chapter 1