The jungle arena, a stage set for a clash of titans, held its breath. Vel, the elven king, stood opposite Lux, the prodigious human champion, the air crackling with the residue of their previous, explosive exchange.

"You truly think I am here just to watch you break this shield?" Vel's voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with a dangerous, calculating light.

He had hoped to win without resorting to this, a power born from a blessing, a touch of the void itself.

But Lux's unique Convertor talent left him no choice. He began to chant, his voice low and resonant, weaving a spell he had spent decades perfecting, a silent, invisible blade forged in the emptiness between realities.

As the final syllable left Vel's lips, the spell shot forth. But it did not travel through the air. It did not carry a visible form or an audible sound. It simply… vanished.

To all the lifeforms watching, it looked like another failed attempt, a desperate, wasted effort against Lux's seemingly absolute defense.

But the demigods and Gods knew better. They felt it. A subtle, almost imperceptible ripple in the very fabric of space itself, a silent predator moving through the void, aimed directly at Lux.

Lux, his Convertor talent still active, braced himself for another wave of elemental fury, ready to devour and replenish.

He felt nothing. No heat, no cold, no impact. But suddenly, a searing line of wrongness appeared across his chest, as if reality itself had been sliced open.

His Convertor talent flared, trying to absorb the attack, but there was nothing to absorb. This wasn't energy; it was absence.

It was the void itself, a conceptual wound that bypassed his defenses entirely. Pain, sharp and blinding, lanced through him.

He staggered back, clutching his chest, a thin line of blood welling up on his tunic. He looked up at Vel, his confident grin replaced by a look of shocked disbelief.

Sunny watched the exchange from his high throne, a flicker of surprise in his cosmic gaze.

He glanced mentally towards Mammon, who simply gave the equivalent of a shrug. 'I only gave him the key. He forged the blade himself.'

Sunny then looked towards Valeria, the demigoddess of the elves, who offered a small, proud nod.

The implications were clear. Two of his demigods had tapped into one of the most powerful and dangerous elements in the cosmos: the Void.

The seed he had planted, the diverse talents he had nurtured, were bearing unexpected, terrifying fruit.

Far away, in the obsidian heart of the demonic realm, the city of Ashgar brooded under a sky the color of dried blood.

the seven Demon Lords sat upon their thrones around the massive table of polished bone.

The air was thick with ancient malice and a tension that seemed to make the very shadows hide.

"Why," Deimos, the Lord of Discord, began, his voice a calm, chilling river in the oppressive silence, "after all these years, after mobilizing legions of our demigods and gods, have we failed to capture or kill even a single one of these new whelps? Why do they continue to elude us?"

"They are adept at hiding," Maledictus, the Lord of Curses, replied, her voice a melodious hum that failed to conceal her own frustration.

"The multiverse is vast, Deimos. Finding a single, determined God who wishes to remain hidden is like finding a specific grain of sand in an endless desert. And these new ones… they possess unity, a network that warns them, guides them."

"Hiding?!" Ichor, the Lord of Corrosion, slammed his slimy, acidic fist onto the table, the ancient bone sizzling and smoking under his touch.

"They mock us! While we sit here discussing tactics, they grow stronger! We should have ripped their pathetic little universe apart the moment we sensed them!"

"Would you stop that!" Maledictus screamed, her composure finally cracking as she pointed a delicate, clawed finger at the smoldering mark on the table. "This table is forged from the bones of the Sky Dragon Emperor! If you break it, there is no replacement! Control your temper!"

"Tch!" Ichor hissed, withdrawing his hand but continuing to glare daggers at the empty air. "Then find me those Gods! Bring me this 'Cosmos' they whisper about!"

"My subordinates report a disturbing trend," Beelzebub, the Lord of Gluttony, rumbled, his voice a low growl like the shifting of continents.

He paused his gnawing on a petrified star core, his eyes burning with a hungry light. "Across the wider multiverses, beyond the sphere of Adam's creations, new Gods are appearing. Not just a few. Millions."

The statement landed like a physical blow. Even Deimos's calm facade flickered. Millions of new Gods?

In the old era, a new God emerging was a rare event, perhaps one a century. But millions, appearing across countless realities in just a few thousand years?

"This is… unexpected," Deimos finally said, his mind racing through the strategic implications. More Gods meant more variables, more potential threats, but also… more potential for discord.

He knew of multiverses where their demonic influence was weak, places resistant to their usual tactics.

There was the Multiverse of No Emotion, a cold, logical reality where beings lacked the passions that fueled fear, despair, and greed—a barren wasteland for demons whose power fed on such things.

Then there was the Multiverse of Balance, a reality governed by an absolute, self-correcting law. If a powerful evil entered, an equally powerful good would spontaneously arise to counter it.

Even a Demon Lord entering that realm would face annihilation, as the multiverse itself would birth a 'hero' perfectly designed to be their antithesis.

"This is bad," Phobos rasped, the hundred terrified faces swirling in his shadowy form twisting in genuine fear. "If these new Gods unite with the ones from Adam's multiverse…"

"Why are you fearing a few fledgling gods of the Laws?" Ichor scoffed, regaining his bravado. "We slaughtered the Void-born in the past! These newborns are nothing but snacks!" He licked his slimy lips, the gesture filled with a greedy hunger.

"You are right, Ichor, they are weak individually," Maledictus countered, her sharp mind cutting through his arrogance.

"But we are not fearing them. We are questioning why. Why are so many appearing now? After a million years of silence? It feels… orchestrated. As if something, or someone, is actively helping them, guiding them." She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with suspicion. "Just as Adam created his ten billion replacements, perhaps another force is now seeding the cosmos with its own champions."

"I have heard whispers as well," Malakai, the Lord of Despair, spoke up, his voice a dry rustle of forgotten leaves.

"What?" Ichor demanded impatiently.

"In the Multiverse of Cards," Malakai explained, "a new God has ascended. He claims to have rediscovered a long-lost method for creating SSS-Grade cards, a technique lost since the fall of the old God Artifex."

"So? Fortunate finds happen," Belial, the Lord of Lies, said dismissively, polishing one of his perfect fingernails.

"Perhaps," Malakai conceded. "But after hearing Maledictus's concerns, I wonder. How does such a monumental secret, hidden for a million years, suddenly resurface now? And," he continued, his voice dropping lower,

"in five different Cultivation Multiverses, new Gods have also begun to appear. Their ascensions are all linked to the sudden, simultaneous opening of ancient tombs, tombs belonging to gods who perished in the great war, filled with lost techniques and elixirs."

He looked around the table, his gaze lingering on each of his peers. "Five ancient tombs opening at once? A lost SSS-Grade technique rediscovered? Millions of new Gods appearing across realities previously barren of them?"

Maledictus leaned back, a slow, chilling smile spreading across her beautiful, cruel face. "Well done, Malakai," she purred. "Now… does anyone at this table still believe this is all just a coincidence?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.