Back in the fractured battlefield—
Reality was collapsing faster now.
Even Azael could feel it.
"This world cannot sustain us," he said.
Gideon didn't respond.
Because something else had his attention.
Lyra.
She was staring at him—not with fear.
With calculation.
"You're not using magic," she said slowly.
Gideon shook his head.
"No."
"Not divine power either…"
"No."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Then what are you?"
Silence.
Then—
The symbols on Gideon's body flared violently.
Not glowing.
Opening.
Cracks of pure darkness spread across his form, revealing something beneath—
Not flesh.
Not energy.
Nothing.
And everything.
Fragments of memory flooded the space.
Not visions.
Truth.
Azael stepped back slightly.
"…Impossible."
Lyra's breath caught.
"What is that…?"
Gideon spoke.
But the voice—
Was not entirely his.
"I am not part of this world."
The sky shattered completely.
"I am what remains…"
The ground dissolved.
"…after it ends."
Azael's expression hardened.
"No."
For the first time—
The god denied something.
"You were sealed," Azael said. "You were removed."
Gideon looked at him.
Eyes no longer human.
"You helped do it."
Silence.
Absolute.
And then—
The truth settled.
Gideon Goddard was not born.
He was what was left behind—
When existence itself had already been destroyed once before.