The silence left behind by the retreating heavens was heavier than any divine pressure.
Aurelius Valen stood atop the obsidian platform, unmoving, as the last裂 of golden light faded from the sky. To the millions below, it felt unreal—like waking from a nightmare only to find the world still trembling.
A god had retreated.
No cheers erupted. No celebrations followed.
Only fear.
Aurelius could feel it clearly—the invisible tightening around the world, like chains being pulled taut. The moment he had refused to kneel, the balance had shifted.
And the heavens had noticed.
Behind him, the air distorted as figures emerged one by one.
Imperial Guardians.
Twelve of them, clad in ancient armor engraved with sigils older than the Empire itself. Each was a legend, a being who had survived countless wars against demons and divine emissaries alike.
The one at the front knelt on one knee.
"Your Majesty," he said, voice low. "The World Throne has reacted."
Aurelius closed his eyes briefly.
He already knew.
The World Authority—the power that bound him to this land—was no longer dormant. It pulsed beneath his feet, restless, awakened by defiance.
"Speak," Aurelius said.
"The seals across the continent are destabilizing," the guardian continued. "Divine observation has intensified. And… the Abyssal Gates."
He hesitated.
"They are responding."
Aurelius opened his eyes.
As expected.
The demons were scavengers by nature. Where gods exerted pressure, the Abyss followed. Where law cracked, corruption seeped in.
"Which regions?" Aurelius asked calmly.
"Three minor gates have opened in the eastern wastelands," another guardian said. "Nothing major yet. But this feels… different."
"It is," Aurelius replied.
He turned, gazing toward the horizon beyond the capital, where distant mountains loomed beneath darkening clouds.
"For centuries, the gods restrained the Abyss just enough to maintain their balance," he said. "Now that balance is broken."
One of the guardians clenched his fist. "Then this is war."
"Yes," Aurelius answered. "But not the kind they expect."
Below the platform, the Imperial Council finally dared to rise.
Ministers, generals, saints—men and women who had governed half the world under Aurelius's rule. Their faces were pale, expressions torn between awe and terror.
One elderly minister stepped forward, trembling. "Your Majesty… what you did today…"
He swallowed hard.
"You have declared open hostility against the heavens."
Aurelius looked at him.
"And?"
The minister stiffened.
"The gods will retaliate," another councilor said urgently. "Divine sanctions. Curses. Plagues. They may strip the world of blessings entirely!"
Aurelius descended from the platform, each step echoing across the plaza.
"Do you believe," he asked quietly, "that we were ever truly blessed?"
The council fell silent.
"For generations, the gods demanded faith, sacrifices, obedience," Aurelius continued. "In return, they gave us survival. Barely."
He stopped before them.
"I will not trade the lives of my people for divine permission to exist."
Some lowered their heads.
Others trembled.
A few—very few—straightened their backs.
Aurelius turned to the generals.
"Mobilize the Imperial Legions," he ordered. "Seal the eastern wastelands. No demon crosses into populated lands."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" they answered in unison.
He then looked toward the towering spires of the capital—toward the ancient structure buried beneath the palace.
"The World Throne must be fully awakened," Aurelius said. "Prepare the rituals."
The guardians' eyes widened.
"That process will draw divine attention," one warned. "Even High Gods—"
"Let them watch," Aurelius said coldly.
At that moment, the sky darkened further.
Far beyond mortal sight, within the heavens themselves, ripples spread through layers of divine law.
A vast hall of light trembled.
Multiple thrones turned toward the same scarred world.
"Aurelius Valen," a feminine voice whispered, laced with both amusement and fury. "So the World Emperor has chosen rebellion."
Another voice followed, deep and merciless.
"Then the experiment has failed."
In the Abyss, something ancient stirred.
A presence that had slept through ages of divine rule slowly opened its eyes.
The world had taken its first step toward chaos.
And Aurelius Valen stood at its center—alone, unbowed, and fully aware of the price he would have to pay.
He welcomed it.
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