Gen observed the Damocles with a feeling that was not quite awe, not quite dread, but something deeper that stole his breath. This was just one of four hanging above their world.
Buqu nodded beside him, a dark monolith against the starry void. "What do you feel, Gen?"
Gen was unsure how to answer. He moved through the thin, non-air, observing the monolithic structure. He could not get close. Even from here, he knew millions of kilometers likely still separated them from its actual surface, yet they were already unbearably near. He felt small. He felt a cold, sinking weight. He felt amazement at the sheer, impossible scale of the weapon meant to erase his home. He could not name the exact emotion. It was a mixture of all of them.
Buqu looked at the Damocles, his voice flat. "This is the thing your father held in his hand. The respect born from that alone is the reason Commander Zeph gave your world five years, even if he had to defy the Council of Immortals for it." He paused. "This might perhaps be our last mission."
Gen blinked, turning to stare at the calm, scarred back of the Divine General. "What do you mean by that?"
Buqu smirked, not turning. "That does not concern you, little boy. Time to go back."
As Buqu turned to leave, the space before them rippled. Three other figures appeared.
Each wore the shining, full armor of a Divine General, but their helmets were off. At their forefront was a slim, lean figure whose eyes held a depth Gen could not fathom. This was the Divine General Anming. On his left stood another, his gaze lighter, his expression almost friendly as he waved at Gen. "Little boy, what are you doing here?" This was Wushia. Finally, on the side, a jar of wine in hand, was the last of them: Deshia. He drank a full cup and groaned. "Buqu, have you lost something? Bringing this thing here."
Gen fell silent, not out of fear, but from a sheer, overwhelming understanding. In front of him were the final targets he would have to face. Each one of them. He would have to go through each before having even a chance to face Zeph and save their world. Though they were all here, the sheer daunting reality of it stripped him of his ability to speak or even think.
Buqu smiled, a broad, unconcerned expression. "I was fond of him, so I brought him here. Any problem with that?" His question was flat, as if he did not really care what they would do.
Anming's neutral face never shifted. Instead, his gaze locked onto Gen, and he spoke. "Define yourself. Find your path away from his."
After saying that, he passed by Gen's shoulder. The space seemed to tear and open in front of him, and then he vanished from the area.
*Define my path?* Gen repeated in a low voice, confused by Anming's words.
Wushia tapped Gen on the shoulder. "Do not be too concerned with him. Anming is always like this." His tone was not mocking, but genuine, like someone who really loved telling stories. "Do you want to know something? I have a ton of stories of worlds we terminated with the Damocles. Want to hear some?"
Deshia took another sip and shook his head. "You guys do whatever you want. I am out." Space tore in front of him, and he vanished too.
Only Gen, Buqu, and Wushia were left.
Buqu grunted. "This kid is a good seedling. If he had been born in our world, I do not doubt he would have reached a certain height."
Wushia caressed his non-existent beard. "Interesting. This reminds me of the story of the Fallen Prodigy. Do you want to hear it?"
Buqu slapped his own face in exasperation, grabbed Gen by the collar, and moved. They plunged back into the tearing black cosmos, leaving Wushia and his unwritten story behind.
Gen cast one last, confused look back at the shrinking figure of Wushia and the immense Damocles. In his mind, his thoughts raced as they descended back to their world.
*For his loved ones, this was the path he had chosen to walk. For his father. But what about him?*
The vastness of the Damocles made his question a tiny, insignificant thing. Was this really his path? The path he had willingly chosen, not as Gen Jiang, son of the Immortal, but as simply… Gen?
He could not answer that question. By the time he surfaced from his thoughts, they were back on the winter grounds. Buqu stretched his massive body and walked away without adding anything to what had happened. Clearly, meeting the other Divine Generals had not been part of the plan.
***
The next four months were spent in a heavy, purposeful silence. Gen trained and practiced the **God Asylum** and his **Jingdao** with a feverish, almost desperate intensity. Liang practiced in another part of the winter forest. He had reappeared in front of Gen two months prior, but he was different. Quieter, his focus turned inward. Gen, though worried, had decided to just accept the consequence of his actions. He could not blame Liang for wanting to find his own way. Their interactions were careful, polite, like two people tending a garden after a frost.
Lorel still talked to him, but Gen could feel something was different now. They barely had any contact other than in the morning, and then only briefly, as if they were strangers sharing a roof. At night, she would play a very soothing melody on her harp, but it held a hint of melancholy to it. It was hard to say if the melody was meant to make you sad, joyful, or grateful. This was *The Last Line*. Even Chubbs did not seem to hang around him these days, spending all his time with Lorel—which was not really strange, but Gen still noticed it.
With nothing more to do, Gen did the only thing that could free his mind. He trained until his bones ached and his Qi ran dry.
***
One day, Gen trained in the open winter area, practicing a fluid **Jingdao** form, when he saw Chubbs move out of the hut with a travel bag slung over his shoulder. The scene felt strange, so he stopped training and moved in their direction.
Soon, it was Lorel's turn. She walked out, dressed for travel. Gen frowned slightly. "Where are you going?"
Chubbs stepped forward. "My lady and myself are going to explore the world. No need to worry. We will be back when we feel like it."
Gen ignored Chubbs and looked at Lorel. "Where are you going?"
Lorel smiled, but it was the calm, polite smile she had been using for months. "My mastery of the harp has gotten really better now, thanks to the old lady. But now I want to look at what the world has to offer to me. The Lost Triangle Mountain is the best place to further my craft, according to her. So I am going there."
Gen bailed his fist. He wanted to tell her to stay. Not to go. But he understood this was not possible anymore. The solitude of the past few months had hammered a necessary, painful maturity into him. He forced a smile.
"Take care of yourself," he said.
Lorel felt her heart ache slightly at his expression, but she knew this was the right path for her own self. She waved at him. "Let us meet again there." She and Chubbs ascended into the grey sky.
Gen nodded, watching them become specks against the white. "You go first." He still needed to meet Ting, and the others—Li Fen and Kaito. They had all gone to the elusive Lost Triangle Mountain. Whether they had found it or not was a mystery. Lorel now said she was going to the same, possibly non-existent place. Was it just a way to politely move away from him?
He let out a bitter laugh. But he did not cry.
A few minutes later, Liang walked out toward him. His expression was calmer, more solemn. It had taken time, but he was finally here to talk.
Gen's heartbeat increased. He was scared. Worried. *Liang wasn't going to leave him too, would he?* Gen prayed in his heart. They could not abandon him alone. No, they could not.
"You would not abandon me, right?" Gen asked, the words bursting out before Liang could even open his mouth.
Liang stayed silent for a second. The wind stirred his hair. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but clear and final.
"I really consider you as my best friend, Gen." He met Gen's eyes. "However, certain things cannot be changed. The Damocles are still in the sky, and as promised, I will definitely help you to face the Divine General Buqu and the others. But for now… I need to walk my own path."
Gen's hand, which had half-raised, fell back to his side. A cold understanding washed over him, colder than the mountain air. Despite it, he did not beg. He did not argue. He simply forced the same, stiff smile he had given Lorel.
"I hope we meet again," Gen said, the words tasting like ashes.
Liang nodded, his gaze steady. "We definitely will."
He ascended into the sky, pausing to look down at Gen one last time. Their gaze held between them—a long, silent space where no words were said, where no smile could bridge the gap.
Gen could see it in Liang's eyes. Something irreversible had happened to him. Something had changed in the deep places of his friend's heart, in the choices he had made alone in the frozen woods.
As to what it was, Gen still had no idea. He stood alone in the snow, watching the last of his friends vanish into the endless, uncaring white. The hut behind him was empty. The training ground was silent. The only sounds were the wind and the faint, high hum of the Damocles, a promise he would now have to face utterly, completely alone.