The world dissolved into sound and color.

A whisper rose beneath the hum of the shrine — ancient, resonant, threaded through the pulse of the earth itself. Light gathered around him until the edges of the shrine blurred. The Gaia Tree's breath filled his lungs, and he stepped blindly into a vision.

It was the same burning world he had once glimpsed in fragments. Cities crumbled into ash, skies bled with fire, and oceans frothed with darkness. Before, the shifting link with Gaia had blurred the vision, making it hazy and broken. But now, with his new realm resonating in harmony with the planet, the veil was gone. Emery could feel Gaia in every heartbeat, in every flicker of light — the bond was clearer than it had ever been.

The primordial wisp itself had descended, its intent carved into his mind with flawless clarity: a warning of the calamity to come.

Within the vision, Emery saw the creatures again — those born of the Abyss gates. They poured like black rivers across the earth, devouring life, extinguishing everything in their path. But the emotion that accompanied the sight was not rage. No, it was something deeper, heavier: sorrow. The sorrow of a mother watching her children stray into ruin, powerless to stop them.

Yet at the edges of grief, something darker stirred. Hatred took shape, congealing into a towering silhouette. It was faceless, but the sheer malice it exuded marked it as the one responsible for all of this. The name echoed through the vision like a thunderclap: Sky God.

Emery's breath trembled as he drew it back into his chest. The vision enthralled him, seared into him, but… it told him nothing new. Just the same grim prophecy, repeated with sharper teeth. With a weary sigh, he began to withdraw his palm from the Gaia Tree—

—when something stirred.

A breeze. Not of wind, but of energy. It slipped through his skin like spring rain, fresh and invigorating, filling his limbs with life.

"What is this…" he whispered, almost afraid to move.

The sensation spread, rejuvenating every muscle, washing over every corner of his spirit. Without hesitation, Emery sank to the ground and folded his legs into lotus position, focusing on the current flowing into him.

Then, a second intent brushed his mind. This was no vision. No warning. It was a gift. Gaia, recognizing the new mastery he held over the cosmos — had chosen to share its own strength with him.

"It's… amazing," Emery breathed.

Nature's essence spilled into him like a flood. His soul and domain resonated, humming in unison as green fire wove with the Elysian light inside him. The harmony was perfect, as if they had always been meant to merge.

Not daring to waste the opportunity, Emery seized the torrent and began refining it. He summoned the [Verdant Ascension] spell, the one Grand Magus Yvere had taught him, a method to draw out every drop of nature's potential. At the same time, he guided the overflow with his [Heaven and Earth Dao], letting the excess spill into the darker half of his body, balancing light and shadow like twin flames.

Time dissolved.

Minutes melted into hours. Hours stretched into days. His body became a vessel of constant renewal, his spirit threading deeper into Gaia's essence with every breath. The cycles of refinement grew smoother, sharper, his inner world expanding like a universe with no end.

Emery could feel it — the edge of something greater. If this flow continued, then perhaps… he could touch yet another breakthrough.

Two weeks slipped by without Emery realizing. His senses stirred only when he felt two distinct auras approaching—Damo's familiar presence alongside the commanding resonance of a Nephilim elder.

Not wanting to sever his communion with Gaia, Emery employed his [True Clone] technique. This time, his true soul descended into the clone, while his two avatars were left behind with his main body to maintain their cultivation cycles. The shift came with a cost: in this form he wielded only half his full strength, the power of a single Cosmos Realm. Yet it offered him an advantage—he could channel both light and darkness freely, and sustain the body for weeks without faltering.

His clone took flight, soared to meet the approaching figures.

The Nephilim elder halted midair, his piercing eyes narrowing in momentary surprise. Emery's cultivation felt different, and beneath them the anomaly of Gaia pulsed like a hidden heart. But the elder, ever steeped in propriety, masked his curiosity and refrained from probing further.

"This is the report, as promised," the elder said, voice carrying the weight of authority.

Emery accepted the silver medallion presented to him. Channeling his spirit reading into it, streams of information unfurled before his mind's eye. It was thorough—an entire analysis of Earth. The Nephilim had catalogued the planet's latent excess of power, its rare purity, and its staggering population—all elements that made it unique among worlds. Records compared the Earth of a century past with the Earth of today, and the conclusion struck like a blade: in fifty to sixty years, calamity was inevitable.

But Emery's attention fixed on what followed. A section titled Threat Assessment detailed what lay beneath Earth's crust—the 108 Abyss Gates. Once, they had been part of a Nephilim experiment. Now, they were fractures into nightmare. The report described the potential emergence of abyssal creatures, but where the reasoning behind these gates should have been… whole sections were blacked out, censored with deliberate finality.

Emery's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp as he turned to the elder. His voice was calm, yet edged with steel.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The Nephilim elder understood at once what Emery meant. His tone carried no hesitation, though the answer was less than satisfying.

"It is as it says. The details are sealed beyond my authority. What I can assure you is this—these gates pose no direct threat to the planet, not until the calamity itself arrives."

Emery's spirit sense continued to comb through the remaining fragments of the report. At its end, a single recommendation was recorded: a solution said to delay the coming calamity by a full millennium. Tempting, almost too much so. Yet the cost was clear—a side effect that promised not relief, but an even greater catastrophe down the line.

For a fleeting moment, Emery weighed the idea with grave consideration. But then he saw the name tied to the proposal—Kronos. His decision was immediate. He dismissed it with a hard shake of his head, casting the notion aside before it could take root.

"Is this all?" Emery asked.

The silence that followed was telling. The elder offered nothing more, his composed face betraying neither guilt nor denial. That silence alone was an answer.

Emery's frustration tightened in his chest. He wanted truth, clarity—but even if the elder was hiding something, there was no way to wrench it out of him. Not here, not now. Restraining his annoyance, Emery shifted tactics. If he could not force the truth, he would at least pry for guidance.

"Senior Yohan," he said carefully, his tone edged with appeal, "I believe we share the same boat. I am certain you would not wish for unknown forces to rise on Earth in the coming decades. So, please—advise me. How would you deal with this situation?"

The elder was silent for a long moment, the weight of his years and authority pressing into the pause. Finally, he spoke.

"If I were in your position," the grand magus said slowly, "I would destroy the gates at once. Every last one of them. But…" His eyes sharpened slightly. "…I ask for your understanding. Do not act until my mission here is complete."

Emery exhaled, absorbing the words. He understood the truth beneath them. Destroying the gates now might undermine the Nephilim mission, risk whatever fragile balance was being maintained. He bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Emery resolved to investigate thoroughly before resorting to ruin. Such importance should not be left to chance

His gaze returned to the elder, and this time Emery asked something unexpected.

"Tell me, Senior… do you know anything about the Eternal Watchers?"

For the first time, the elder's composure cracked. It was only the faintest shift—an almost imperceptible flicker in his expression—but Emery caught it. The elder quickly masked it, shaking his head with practiced calm.

"No. I know nothing of them."

It was a lie. Emery could feel it. And that lie was all the confirmation he needed. The Eternal Watchers were involved. Somehow, they were tied to the Abyss Gates and to the hidden truths the Nephilim refused to speak.

The weight of the question seemed enough to trouble the elder, for he soon excused himself with abrupt politeness. His form dissolved into the horizon, leaving Emery standing alone in the sky with only Damo at his side.

Damo, though clearly aware of the tension that had just passed between his master and the Nephilim elder, chose not to intrude. His calm demeanor was steady, his voice respectful when he finally spoke.

"Master, I bring replies for you."

With a gesture, three sealed messages appeared in his hands. Emery received them in silence, his spirit sense brushing against each seal before allowing the words within to unfold in his mind.

The first bore the mark of Ouroboros. His daughter's words carried a warmth that pulled faintly at his heart.

[Father, I was thrilled to hear of you. I will come as soon as I can to see you—and I will bring a friend.]

Shinta's tone was filled with eagerness, and Emery could picture her bright smile even as the letters formed in his mind. The mention of a "friend," however, gave him pause. He wondered who it might be.

The second message came from Terra City. It was a simple expectation of his visit. The final message carried the seal of Nova Roma. Julian tone here was altogether different—sharp, almost foreboding.

[How strong are you now? It is urgent that we meet.]

######

This chapter concludes the month of September, and once again, I would like to express my gratitude for your support. I hope it has been an enjoyable read.

Today marks the 5th anniversary of the novel—gosh, it's really been a while.

I've received many messages about the story's ending, as some of you have started to sense it. Chumo's conclusion, and more will unfold in due time.

It's difficult for me to part with this novel, but the end will eventually come—perhaps in one or two more volumes. I will certainly do my best to deliver more chapters while maintaining their quality.

Thank you so much for your continued support and patience. I truly appreciate it, and I look forward to sharing more with you in the coming month. x

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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