In a shadowed gorge, tens of thousands of colossal beasts pried open eyes sealed for a thousand years, like stone gates grinding wide. They fixed their gaze on the sky and roared, a storm of joy. Fleshy twin wings beat on their backs like war drums, whipping up a gale that peeled dust from the cliffs.

In a lightless cave, red glows lanced from the eye sockets of countless Skeletons like embers under ash. Their jaws trembled, teeth clicking like chimes. No throats, no cords—yet the words rang clear, like wind through a bone flute. "Humans, I've returned!"

In a deep forest, tall Elvenfolk rushed toward the Queen's palace, feet whispering like deer on moss. "Your Majesty, the Pantheon's bindings on us have vanished!" The Queen narrowed those moon-bright eyes, silence pooling like still water, then spoke. "I know. I don't know who erased the Pantheon, but we can stop fearing their raids." Heat flushed the soldier's face like sunrise, eyes fixed on the Queen. "Shall we order an attack on the humans? We must free our enslaved kin!" "No. It's not time," she said, voice cool as shaded springs. "In five thousand years, humans didn't sit idle; their wit ran like wildfire. They make iron hulks fly like geese, and wield devices that bloom into thunder. If we challenge them now, we'd only bleed more kin into the roots. Let the thick-skulled dragons crash against them first. We'll take the stage last." "Yes!"

In the Beastfolk encampment, smoke curled from the fire pit like ghosts, and elders gathered close. "What do you make of today?" "An unknown one slew the gods—so what?" a gravelly voice said, heavy as rain on hides. "Unless the godslayer helps us, we keep hiding in these hills. Human weapons make even the Elvenfolk, who chased magic for ten thousand years, step back. What chance do we have?" The words fell like stones, and only laments drifted through the tents like a cold wind.

In the Underworld, several black-winged beings rose as one, eyes lifting to a ceiling dark as quenched iron. "The gods have fallen," one said, voice like clattering chains. "We return." The man seated at the center smoothed his ragged hair like brushing ash, yet his beard, thorny as brambles, kept his ruinous air. "Tell the Daemons seeded in the mortal realm to be ready to move with us."

In a room walled with high-tech displays, screens glowed like a city at night. "Sir, the Temple dropped off radar," a blue-jacket reported, words tapping like rain. "Energy scans and trackers can't reacquire the target. We suspect the Pantheon is gone." The man in black lowered his head, thoughts spreading like ink, then looked up. "Report it to HQ. Request shutdown of the Godslayer Project." "Yes, sir!" Watching the blue jacket's retreating back, the man in black muttered, a sour bite in his voice. "Damn it, who did it? Killed the gods and trashed the Temple, left all that treasure. Are they brain-dead?" If Loli were here, hot anger would come first, like a spark to oil. She'd toss him into the Underworld and pity the gods who'd guarded humankind. But Loli wasn't here. She sat on a stone like a lone heron, staring at her mirror-self in the lake, lost in thought.