The world was about to end.
That was Cheng Shi's most visceral impression.
He had never seen [Oblivion]'s power in such terrifying density. Even with the Convention suppressing it and [Justice (Order)] intervening, the tidal wave of annihilation still swept across the brilliant starry sky.
To put it frighteningly, a single splash from that wave could annihilate this world countless tis over — let alone the full cataclysmic surge.
Fortunately, the two sovereigns of [Void] weren't pushovers. The mont [Oblivion]'s fury erupted, [Fate] blinked once and sheltered His follower; [Deceit] was a beat slower and could only protect Herobos beside Cheng Shi with a look of undisguised distaste.
The debate hadn't even started yet. As the key figure, He couldn't die now.
But even under [Fate]'s protection, Cheng Shi still retreated two alard steps and hid behind Herobos.
The gap between mortals and gods was, at this mont, laid bare.
Cheng Shi's face was taut with anxiety. Herobos, by contrast, stood utterly motionless — a pillar anchoring the sea — weathering the full brunt of His Benefactor's wrathful tide.
Just as Cheng Shi was beginning to feel a hint of admiration, [Deceit] spoke in an amused drawl:
"If your knees are too weak to stand, you can always sit. No need to muscle through."
Herobos wobbled, staggering half a step, but ultimately forced Himself not to sit.
"..."
Seeing this, Cheng Shi rolled his eyes. 'We're not so different, you and I...'
[Oblivion] was incandescent with rage. Those constantly collapsing, disintegrating eyes fixed upon His Envoy with shadowed fury — upon the Herobos who had served Him faithfully for so long. Unwilling to accept the betrayal, He asked, word by word:
"Has [Void] taken control of you?"
Herobos froze. When He raised His head, the first thing He t was the playful star-bright gaze beside Him. Though [Deceit] hadn't spoken — only blinked — Herobos distinctly heard the silent ssage:
'Only in the depths of despair can one burn the boats.'
"..."
Herobos's expression shifted. Then His eyes hardened once more, His face growing cold.
He slowly lifted His head, leveling His gaze with His Benefactor's, and shook His head:
"No."
"You dare lie to !"
Those two words alone made every trace of [Oblivion]'s presence across the starry sky solidify into substance. The outer stars collapsed with a thunderous roar. Streaming starlight plunged into the void. [Oblivion] could not believe it. He repeated His question — each syllable heavier than the last, ground out through gnashing teeth:
"Has [Void] taken control of you?"
A flash of reluctance crossed Herobos's eyes, but it was instantly replaced by an even deeper coldness. He shook His head again:
"I said — no.
This is my own wish. I seek Your Divine Throne, my Benefactor!"
At this, [Oblivion] laughed in disbelief.
"Very well!
It seems you intend to embrace a true god's will with a servant god's vessel."
With that, every shred of [Oblivion]'s power across the sky surged backward like a dam breaking — flooding toward the seats of [Void]. [Fate]'s eyes turned cold, ready to strike, but [Deceit] held Him back. With a cheerful smile, He addressed [Oblivion]:
"I'd advise you not to act.
Setting aside whether you can fight two of us at once — don't forget, this is the old fossil's territory. Surely you don't want to break the rules at the Assembly of Gods Convention and forfeit your own vote?
Win or lose, once the Assembly begins, it must reach a conclusion.
If you insist on giving up the vote in your hand, I certainly won't object.
There's a certain soone in [Void] with too much energy, always itching for a fight. Perfect — I'll use you to burn off so of that excess vigor. Call it a win-win."
"..."
One sarcastic remark, and the roiling chamber fell still.
The tangible [Oblivion] energy hung frozen an inch above Herobos's head, resonating with the purest [Oblivion] power within Him — as though delivering a wordless joke to everyone present.
'With the true god still alive, how could an Envoy usurp the throne?'
More than one deity shared that confusion — especially the Iron Law of [Order], whose pages flipped at frantic speed, as if reviewing every clause of the Convention. But no matter how much He searched, He found no provision that would permit Herobos to seize the throne. Baffled, He turned to [Justice (Order)]:
"[Oblivion] still lives and retains free will. Why was this petition approved?"
Before [Justice (Order)] could respond, the enormous skull on the other side of the chamber spoke first.
[Death]'s expression was peculiar. The green flas in His eye sockets flickered wildly. He gave a cold snort, His tone cryptic:
"That which... the law... does not forbid — may be done. Does the Convention... state... that while a true god yet lives... an Envoy... may not... inherit... the Divine Throne... and authority?"
The mont these words landed, the entire assembly was stunned.
Not just because of the content — but because of who had said it!
Among everyone present, not a single deity could match the [Life] trinity when it ca to tradition — especially [Death]. He was eternally solemn, never one for levity, and certainly not the type to exploit loopholes.
So why would He say sothing like this?
It reeked of being put up to it by a certain mber of [Void]. And as it happened, the subject of the petition was [Death]'s rival — [Oblivion]...
The gods understood at once. [Deceit] had catered to [Death]'s interests, using His hand to deliver a resounding slap across [Oblivion]'s face.
[Oblivion] grew even more furious. Those endlessly collapsing eyes had nearly imploded entirely. He shot a dark look at His old nesis, then turned to re-examine His Envoy, and spoke through His refusal:
"Tell
you haven't betrayed
— that you haven't defected to [Death]'s camp!"
Herobos exhaled slowly, His expression conflicted:
"Of course I haven't betrayed You. Because I still intend to inherit Your Divine Throne and authority."
"..."
"Fine! Fine! Fine!"
[Oblivion] went completely cold. He swept His gaze across every god in attendance, said nothing further, and returned to His seat.
That silhouette — lonely and desolate beneath the boundless fury — gave the gods pause.
Of course, they all knew this was [Oblivion]'s counterattack. But what [Oblivion] had silently communicated was sothing they too had reason to fear.
If a servant god dared usurp the throne while a true god still lived—
Once that precedent was set, who would ever dare elevate an Envoy again?
This made the foresight of the later-established Paths of Fate all the more apparent.
[Civilization] had learned from the lessons of [Life] and [Descent] from the mont of its inception. Apart from [Order], who had elevated many Envoys to uphold universal law, the trend starting from [Truth] had been toward creating servant-god-level constructs to spread the true god's will.
The gods who had no Envoy-backstabbing worries naturally remained unconcerned. But not everyone could let it slide.
[Folly] had said nothing since taking His seat, content to watch the spectacle with a sardonic smile. Now, seeing [Oblivion] cornered and [Void] holding all the cards, He let out a scoff:
"I think calling this era [Void] is a waste. It should be called the Era of [Foolish Acts] — because this entire era has been nothing but one big foolish act."
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