Themis lay utterly spent. The figure who was once the very manifestation of indestructible justice was now nothing more than a grotesque vessel for cosmic insanity. Around him, the other five Deities writhed in a suffering that stretched beyond any mortal concept of pain.
Vitalia the God of Life, moaned in a terror that was compounded infinitely. The nauseating black fungi consuming her body grew exponentially, draining her divine quintessence. She convulsed violently, vomiting thick clumps of golden blood (the ichor of a God) as her spirit violently resisted the total collapse being forced upon her. Her pure, instinctive will to live was the only force delaying her final self-destruction.
Chronos the God of Time, laughed and wept simultaneously. He was not just watching time revolve, but hearing all the sounds of the universe, from inception to oblivion, in a single, ceaseless moment. The sheer terror paralyzed him. It tore at the interwoven layers of his soul, forcing him to withstand an absolute void purely through his burning mental resolve.
Lumen the God of Light, shrieked a high-pitched, piercing lament. Already blinded, his soul was now being shattered by the Grimoire's concept of anti-light. He felt his divine energy being painfully siphoned, leaving only a hollow frame driven solely by the fierce determination to endure.
Aether the God of Emptiness, was unnervingly silent. He perceived the Grimoire as a superior void, a greater non-existence that demanded the surrender of his own emptiness. He was trapped in a cold, final resignation, his soul nearly dissolved, with only a final, desperate spark of will keeping him from total oblivion.
This was the finale of a divine era. It concluded not with the mighty battle foretold by ancient prophecies, but with the total, humiliating defeat of the divine council before the Grimoire. Universal destruction marched onward, yet the Gods, intended as the universe's saviors, were preoccupied fighting the inner demons dredged up from the deepest recesses of their own shattered souls. Their torment was a horrific spectacle, proof of how minuscule the concept of divinity was in the face of pure non-existence. Themis's face, meant to be serene and constant, was now so distorted by infinite fear that he resembled a ghastly caricature of a failed God. Dark green moss crept across his skin, transforming him into a living monument to divine failure.
Behind the thick, miraculously untouched green grass, Elmys witnessed everything. The spectacle should have annihilated a young boy's mind. Yet, his brain functioned with an inhuman, cold clarity. He felt no oppressive weight from the horror. There was a strange distance separating him from the destruction.
"This scarf…" he whispered.
He glanced down at the worn, knitted scarf around his neck. The scarf was simply red, woven with common wool thread. There were no signs of ancient magic, no glowing runes, no visible divine power. Yet, the deadly dark corrosive aura, which had sickened and maddened even the Deities, was mere inches from his skin. The scarf simply repelled it with unnatural serenity. The air immediately surrounding him felt frigid, serene, and empty. It was a perfect bubble of nothingness in the epicenter of the cosmic storm of destruction.
The scarf did not only protect him from the Grimoire's physical and mental poison. It also shielded him from the Grimoire's attention entirely. Elmys registered this immunity not as a gift, but as a horrifying burden of responsibility. He was the only intact entity in a universe that had just been erased. His childhood fears vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp awareness and icy, calculating focus. He had to understand this protective anomaly.
As Themis released his last, ragged groan, the black sky above the Lumina Forest suddenly cracked open once more. A fierce, golden-yellow light tore through the surrounding darkness, far more potent than the light of the comet that delivered the Grimoire.
He was Valeron (Might), the God of War and Physical Manifestation. Valeron was physically the strongest of the Gods. His power could shift stars from their orbits and resist the gravitational pull of black holes.
Valeron landed violently at the crater's edge, his aura radiating a pure energy that actively fought the Grimoire's venom. He looked at his fallen siblings, his face hardening into an expression of divine wrath.
"Entity of abomination, you have crossed the unforgivable line!" Valeron roared, his voice like thunder dissolving the oppressive silence. "I will tear you apart with my bare hands!"
Valeron remained unaffected by the Grimoire's dark corrosive aura, which was now stronger than ever. His pure will and limitless physical strength withstood the wave of madness and poison. He was a God immune to mental corruption. He was the universe's last hope.
Without hesitation, Valeron swung his glowing fist toward the Grimoire. This was a blow of unadulterated, raw power designed to obliterate both physical and spiritual existence. The punch could wipe his opponent's existence from the universe, leaving nothing behind. Furthermore, no one would remember it, and the event would be lost as if it never happened at all.
His fist struck the Grimoire. An explosion of yellowish energy clashed against the dark power, shaking the entire continent. Valeron's blow, capable of destroying a giant nebula, caused only a faint shiver in the green book.
The Grimoire remained utterly unharmed. The book was entirely impervious to Valeron's brute force.
And then, the Grimoire laughed.
The laughter was not audible sound. It was a cold sensation that pierced the mind, a pure, mocking contempt delivered through a different dimension. "Raw power is meaningless," the message stabbed into the minds of every God present.
As the Grimoire laughed, Chronos, the God of Time, made a final, desperate effort. Although his soul was fractured by temporal chaos, he forced his divine will to analyze the Grimoire's structure. The instant his divine mind made contact with the structure, his head exploded. Only a brief spray of cosmic fluid and golden blood remained. The physical form of the God of Time was extinguished, leaving only a headless body that continued to convulse violently, driven by the pure, foundational resolve that prevented the concept of Time from disappearing entirely.
In that same moment, the Grimoire's dark corrosive aura erupted again. This aura now focused entirely on the concept of pure gravity.
Elmys, in his concealment, still felt absolutely nothing. He was aghast at his own impossible anomaly.
Valeron, the God of Might, who should have been capable of uplifting mountains, was instantly suppressed. His face was a mask of shock and escalating fury.
"Gravity? A foolish law!" Valeron yelled, desperately attempting to fight back. Valeron screamed, not from physical pain, but from the cosmic madness that accompanied the crushing pressure. Golden blood spurted from his mouth as his divine brain struggled to process the destruction of the laws of physics.
One by one, the six Gods now collapsed, all of them pressed into the earth, severely wounded at the soul level.
Elmys, still behind the thick grass, watched the devastating scene. He saw the six Gods before him, all totally paralyzed, driven only by a final will to live despite the shattering of their spirits. He saw the Grimoire, pulsing with frigid satisfaction, now commanding one of the universe's most fundamental forces.
Elmys's head began to ache. His hyper-sharp brain labored furiously, trying to comprehend this impossible situation. He could not flee. He could not launch an attack.
Elmys felt no gravitational pressure whatsoever. He remained hidden behind the thick grass, his eyes moving with unnatural ease. Waiting was no longer an option.
With light, almost nonexistent steps, Elmys emerged from behind the thick grass. He walked directly toward the source of destruction. His small fingers touched the edge of the Grimoire's cover. The moment the contact was made, the universe shuddered. The Grimoire shrieked a soundless scream of pure, astonished agony. The crushing gravitational force holding the Gods vanished instantly.
Elmys grabbed the Grimoire's front cover, and with a sudden burst of strength, slammed it shut.
CLACK!
The sound of the book covers meeting reverberated far beyond the Lumina Forest. All the deadly energy was instantly suppressed. The Grimoire's power ceased to spread.
However, no relief came from Elmys.
His red scarf suddenly turned pitch black around his neck, like smoldering charcoal. The now-closed book no longer radiated non-existence outward. Instead, it went inward, penetrating skin and flesh, and fusing directly with Elmys's soul. The Grimoire's essence, suppressed and trapped, had found a perfect vessel, uniting its power with the boy's spirit.
Elmys's eyes, previously bright and focused, now radiated the exact same dark corrosive light that the Grimoire's aura had emitted moments before. His entire body radiated the same dark corrosive power, a terrifying sign that the Grimoire had achieved total possession and the fusion was complete. A cold, unnatural smile carved itself onto his small lips. His body stood perfectly erect, no longer like a child, but like the pure, terrifying manifestation of the void.
A voice that was emphatically not his own emerged from Elmys's throat. It was the echoing resonance of oblivion, cold and utterly contemptuous.
"You pathetic Gods," the voice hissed from Elmys's mouth.
Valeron, though grievously wounded, forced himself to look up. He saw Elmys standing there, enveloped in the pitch black scarf and the dark corrosive light, holding the closed book.
"That child... what have you done to him?" Valeron roared, his voice hoarse and broken.
The cold smile on Elmys's face widened. "I gave him purpose, Valeron. And as for you? You are merely delayed remnants. Sleep, oh failed gods. Your time has ended, and the most painful truth is... you were saved by a child who is now your own destiny."
Then, Elmys's body (now wholly controlled by the Grimoire) turned away with terrifying grace. The pitch black scarf released a final dark haze that finally blurred the vision of the paralyzed Gods.
The Grimoire, through its new bearer, departed, leaving the six Deities sprawled upon the ground, alive in absolute humiliation and terror, realizing that the worst cosmic disaster now wore the face of a child.