The dust of the Meta-Void had finally settled. In the realm of Godw, time flowed differently now—it was no longer a sequence of events dictated by an external pen, but a river of pure, unadulterated freedom. Ten years had passed since the day Volt stepped out of the script and shattered the role of the Author. The world had changed, but the farm remained the heart of the multiverse.
Volt stood at the edge of the northern plateau, looking down at the sprawling green valleys. He was older now, but his eyes still held that violet spark of infinite power. He no longer wore the obsidian armor of the Demon King; instead, he wore a simple linen shirt and the same tattered straw hat that Alisa had kept safe for him during his final battle. He was no longer the Source of Death; he had become the Source of Life.
Beside him, a tall, imposing figure materialized from a rift of pure blue energy. It was Anos, now 27 years old. Anos had grown into a man whose presence could stabilize an entire galaxy with a single breath. He was the official High Guardian of the Multiverse.
"The 10th Dimension is flourishing, Father," Anos said, his voice deep and resonant. "The survivors of the old deleted timelines have built a new civilization. They call it 'Volt-Aura'. They no longer fear erasure."
Volt smiled, leaning on his wooden staff. "And Akuto? How is he handling the balance?"
"Akuto is... well, he's Akuto," Anos chuckled. "He and Sasha are currently debating the ethics of Probability Manipulation in the 5th Sector. He's used the roots of Sakuna to create a planetary shield that even a Godwy-level threat couldn't pierce. He's a good man, Father. Sai would be proud."
As they spoke, a streak of brilliant white light shot across the sky, followed by a trail of laughter. Alisa, now 25, descended from the heavens like a fallen star. Her Light Manipulation had evolved into something sublime—she didn't just illuminate the dark; she could turn shadows into living dreams.
"Lunch is ready!" Alisa shouted, her feet touching the grass with a graceful thud. "And you better hurry. Vanessa is in one of her 'I will rewrite your existence if you're late' moods again."
Volt felt a warmth in his chest that no amount of 12 forms of immortality could ever provide. He looked at his children—the legacies of his struggle. He had broken the Fifth Gate not to rule, but so they could exist without a predetermined fate.
They walked back toward the farmhouse, where the smell of fresh bread and roasted potatoes filled the air. On the porch, Vanessa stood waiting. Her hair was silvered at the temples, but her gaze was as sharp and commanding as ever. She held a wooden spoon like a scepter of ultimate authority.
"You're three minutes late, Volt," she said, though the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile.
"I was just checking the harvest, my queen," Volt replied, kissing her forehead.
The table was set for a feast. Sasha and Karina were already there, arguing over a map of the newly discovered dimensions. Even in a world without an Author, some things never changed. They sat together—the most powerful family in existence—eating, laughing, and living a life that was never supposed to be written.
After the meal, as the twin suns of Godw began to set, Volt sat alone on the porch. He pulled out a small, leather-bound book. It was blank. There were no words, no ink, and no destiny. He took a simple charcoal pencil and wrote a single line on the first page:
"Once, there was a man who died a thousand times to live once."
He closed the book and left it on the table. He didn't need to write the rest. The story was now in the hands of his children, and their children after them.
Suddenly, the air in front of him flickered. A small, glowing butterfly—a remnant of Information Manipulation—landed on his finger. It whispered a secret that only a being who had bypassed the Fifth Gate could hear. The multiverse was expanding. New stories were being born in the darkness, stories that didn't have a Volt or an Anos.
Volt stood up, looking out at the infinite stars. He knew that one day, a new threat might arise. One day, another "Author" might try to pick up the pen. But as he looked at Anos training in the distance and Alisa painting the sky with light, he knew the world was ready.
He picked up his straw hat, tilted it over his eyes, and walked back into the house. The door closed with a soft click, and for the first time in 9000 years, the universe was silent. Not the silence of death, but the silence of a satisfied soul.
The End.