When Father Black returned to Earth, the world erupted.
Cheers thundered across continents.
Cities lit up with banners and holograms.
Gods laughed openly, mortals cried in relief, temples rang bells that had not been touched in centuries.
The Eighth Earth—so close to erasure by Heaven and those that fell from it, suddenly felt alive again.
People hugged strangers.
Children ran through streets that had expected fire from the sky.
Songs were sung, not of victory, but of survival.
They called his name.
They hailed him as the man who had stared down all angels alike.
However, the man himself. Father Black, he did not wave.
He did not smile.
Instead, he walked straight past them.
Perseus caught up first, eyes bright, adrenaline still burning.
Demeter followed, relief softening her usually stern expression.
"Father—" Perseus began.
"I need to be alone," Father Black said sharply.
It sounded Not unkind and absolute.
