The God of Gambles vanished in a ripple of distorted space—and Renher vanished with him.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield froze.
Aydra stood exactly where she had been moments ago, divine light flickering faintly around her battered form. The ground beneath her feet was fractured, the air still heavy with the residue of an Outer God's presence. Gods clashed in the distance, reality being stitched back together by overwhelming force.
But Renher—
Renher was gone.
Her gaze snapped left.
Then right.
Nothing.
Her breath hitched.
"…That moron," Aydra muttered, fury simmering beneath her exhaustion. "That absolute, irredeemable gambler—don't tell me he started another wager with Renher."
Her fists clenched.
"All this planning," she hissed. "Ages of preparation—millennia of balance—reduced to nothing if he decided to gamble on a whim."
Her aura flared dangerously, the ground beneath her feet cracking further.
Before she could trace Renher's soul signature—
Space folded again.
The God of Gambles stepped back into existence as casually as one might return from a stroll, hands buried in the pockets of his long black coat, expression calm, almost amused.
Aydra whirled on him instantly.
"WHERE IS RENHER?" she shouted.
Her voice cracked through the battlefield like thunder.
"How is he?! Why is he missing?! What did you do?!"
Veins stood out across her forehead, divine pressure leaking uncontrollably from her form.
The Gambler tilted his head slightly.
"He's fine," he replied. "I arrived just in time. And I sent him to the place he was meant to be sent."
Aydra stepped closer, eyes blazing.
"Were you not listening?" she snarled. "I ordered my butler to evacuate him—"
"And I did exactly that," the Gambler interrupted lightly. "I merely expedited the process."
Her aura spiked.
"Don't tell me," she growled, "that you gambled with Renher."
The Gambler raised both hands in mock surrender.
"I did not gamble with Renher," he said calmly. "How could I? All your planning would have been rendered meaningless if I had."
Aydra's glare sharpened.
"…Are you absolutely sure?"
He met her gaze evenly.
"Of course."
Then he nodded behind her.
"Also—look. The tentacle's been pushed back. The others are sealing the breach. Let's not miss the ending."
Aydra turned reluctantly.
The colossal dimensional rupture—the wound torn open by the Outer God—was collapsing inward under combined divine pressure. Shadow stitched space together. Lightning burned corrupted matter away. Fire and wind scoured the edges clean.
Relief loosened her shoulders slightly.
"Good," she said. "Let's join them. I want to inspect how the Outer God breached this dimension in the first place."
The Gambler nodded, and together they moved toward the closing rift.
As they advanced, Aydra asked, "Who answered the call?"
The Gambler smiled broadly.
"Nature came first—armed with Fist and Thunder. Shadow followed soon after. Fire arrived late, as usual. Wind brought half the sky with him. And a handful of others."
He paused theatrically.
"And of course—the greatest among them all."
Aydra shot him a side glance.
"…You?"
He grinned.
Her annoyance was obvious—but beneath it, gratitude lingered. Without him, Renher would be gone.
They neared the sealing formation.
The last remnants of the tentacle recoiled into nothingness.
Aydra slowed.
"So," she said carefully, "you sent Renher to the place we all agreed upon. Correct?"
"Of course," the Gambler replied. "Exactly as discussed."
She stopped walking and faced him fully.
"Then say it."
He met her gaze.
"The Western Continent of Earth."
Aydra exhaled quietly.
"Good," she said. "Then at least that thread of fate remains intact."
She turned back toward the battlefield.
She did not ask the most important question.
At what age Renher had been sent.
Behind her, the God of Gambles smiled faintly.
Because in that omission lay the greatest gamble he had ever made.
And neither Aydra—Nor the gods—Nor the world itself—
Knew that the fate of an entire era had just been wagered.
.......
One Month Later
Night stretched endlessly across the open road.
A carriage rolled forward beneath the starlit sky, drawn by a pair of steady horses and escorted by a handful of knights. The Hydra Crest gleamed faintly upon its sides, illuminated by torchlight.
Inside sat Kaileen, Thymus, and Alisson.
The destination was unspoken.
Silence filled the carriage.
A heavy, suffocating silence.
Kaileen stared out the window, her reflection wavering against the glass. Her fingers clutched a folded piece of parchment—creased, worn, and handled too many times.
Renher's letter.
She refused to let it go.
Across from her, Thymus sat rigid, eyes closed but mind clearly restless. Alisson stared at the floor, jaw clenched, replaying memories he could not erase.
The carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
"We have arrived, Your Highness," the coachman announced.
Reality returned.
"I will go first," Thymus said quietly. "You remain here."
He stepped into the darkness.
Kaileen and Alisson remained behind.
It had been one month since the Battle of Baillus Forest.
The war had ended in victory.
But the kingdom had lost its king.
A new ruler had been crowned.
Borders stabilized.
The Orcs signed a peace treaty.
Life continued.
But those who fought had not moved forward.
A knock broke the silence.
Thymus returned.
"There are children outside," he said. "They claim they were summoned by the gods—to protect this continent."
Kaileen looked up slowly.
"…Bring them in."
The carriage door opened.
And the future stepped inside.
.....
Elsewhere
In a dark, silent chamber, a man sat cross-legged in meditation.
Footsteps echoed.
His eyes opened calmly.
"What brings you here, my friend?"
A younger man stepped forward.
"The youngest has awakened," he said. "It was unexpected. He was chosen."
The seated man's eyes widened slightly.
"Well," he murmured, rising to his feet, "that is interesting. What of his powers?"
"No major changes," came the reply. "But minor deviations are inevitable."
"As long as there's no overhaul," the man said calmly, walking toward a crimson bow radiating apocalyptic power, "it won't matter."
He grasped the weapon lightly.
"When the time is right," he said, "we will meet the youngest. Until then—we wait."
....
Another Realm
A vast chamber filled with divine artifacts shimmered softly.
A man walked between towering containers of relics, brows furrowed.
"…Something is missing," he muttered. "But I can't remember what."
A small voice broke the silence.
"Father! Look what I made!"
A young girl ran toward him, eyes bright.
He smiled warmly.
"If I forgot," he said, kneeling to embrace her, "then it wasn't worth remembering."
For now—
The world could wait.