The millennia-long war had finally come to an end. The god whose name struck fear into all had been slain. Azriel Castwell, the God of Destruction, had grown weary of life and boredom, and accepted death without resistance. The heavens stretched instantly, forming a portal shaped like an event horizon, swallowing the lifeless body of the surrendered god. Humans, demons, gods, and spirits exhaled in relief, while a group of holy heroes, chosen by the primordial gods, finally collapsed from centuries of endless battle, deprived of sleep and any basic needs. It was hard to imagine their suffering—but they had endured.
Azriel's own comrades had killed him, unwilling to share power when he had lost his mind. Yet it had been their actions that sparked the war in the first place: noticing the psychic instability of one of the mightiest gods, they hastily devised a plan for his elimination. Enraged, Azriel unleashed the shadow creatures upon the realms of gods, demons, and humans. Watching the carnage, he wondered: what was the point of power? No one could challenge him—he was the supreme being. Commanded and opposed by no one, the war felt meaningless, offering no satisfaction. Could he simply vanish? This was the path Azriel chose, deliberately stepping under the sword of his friend, Ren, the God of Darkness. The strike was no ordinary blow—it annihilated the very essence of its target. This was the pride of the gods: the blade known as Roozbound.
After Azriel's death, the world returned to normal, though it felt strange. Humans remained tense, wary of the fallout from the death of one of the strongest gods, but gradually life settled. States resumed their routines, citizens returned to trade and the development of their nations, and gods began restoring the realms ravaged by Azriel, the God of Destruction. The demons fared the best, as their world had largely escaped Azriel's wrath, though their losses were still significant, and even more so for humans and gods alike.
Life normalized completely. Generation after generation, evolution continued, granting humans greater reserves of magic, though excessive accumulation also led to a decline in combat skills. The most potent spells of the Blood-End Era were lost, as were countless artifacts. Humans became nearly ordinary beings, their superpowers diminished. Demons lived alongside humans, their bloodlines blurred, and the gods ceased interfering in mortal affairs, despite their immense power.
Yet, after tens of thousands of years, the world shuddered—subtly, quietly, and ominously. In one of the mythical caverns, the heart of the god once slain by his own comrades ignited. His crimson eyes burned through the night and darkness of the cave.
"I have returned…", rasped the voice of the resurrected god.