Third Person POV
"Champ... please tell me this is a joke. Right? This is all a prank?" Jiggs laughed—nervously, desperately. "A twisted way to get to a happy ending... with a plot twist?"
But behind that laugh...
Was dread.
Real, suffocating dread.
"Champ?" Zenith repeated. His voice was distant—void of recognition, void of warmth. His gaze cut through them all like frozen glass. "No..."
"But... you're powerful, aren't you?" Jiggs continued, trembling as his voice cracked. "You're here to save your creations—us. Aren't you?"
Zenith tilted his head.
"Save you?" he echoed, then let out a slow, unsettling smile. "No. I am not here to preserve life."
Then—
His back arched, his body twitching unnaturally. And from that twisted motion, they emerged—wings.
Not of feathers.
But of pure energy, glowing and unstable, unfurling behind him like war banners drenched in chaos.
"You all shattered my trust," Zenith declared, his voice reverberating like thunder. "And now, you've defiled my creations. So to end it all... I will rewrite the very world that birthed you."
"What... what does that mean?!" Jiggs cried out.
Zenith smiled—no longer charming, no longer human. It was a smile that did not belong to someone sane.
Then—
Snap.
A single flick of his fingers.
And instantly, the Beta soldiers of Verilios—
Crumbled into ash.
Gone.
All of them.
In a blink.
The group stood frozen, stunned, breaths caught in their throats.
"The Omega's Whisper of Death?" Deux whispered, horrified.
"It's more than that." Zenith replied.
Zenith stepped forward, barefoot across the scorched marble floor, each footfall cracking the stone beneath him as if the earth itself rejected his presence.
"I won't stop there," Zenith said coldly. "Every Alpha. Every Omega. Every Beta. Every Sigma... I will erase them all."
"I gave them a chance," he muttered to himself, voice thick with venom. "I waited. I loved. I bled for them."
And then, like a blade unsheathed—
His voice hardened.
"But now?"
He looked to the horizon.
Toward the ones who still dared to hope—Jiggs, Silver, Deux, Voder, Alaric, Melior. Watching from the shadows. Paralyzed. Powerless.
And still... believing.
A cruel grin formed on Zenith's lips.
"I will kill every last one of you. And when I'm done—"
He raised his arms.
Above them, the skies ignited into a spiraling storm of raw energy, twisting like a vortex primed to consume the world.
"—I will rebuild this world... in my image."
And with a single beat of his wings, Zenith soared upward—crashing through the ceiling of the basecamp and vanishing into the sky like a god ascending judgment.
The silence he left behind was louder than any scream.
Jiggs turned to Deux, eyes wide, lips trembling.
"Deux... you can feel Champ again, right? Tell me he's still in there. Please. Please..."
But Deux said nothing at first.
He swallowed, closed his eyes—searching, hoping.
And finally, whispered:
"I'm sorry, Jiggs. But... I can't feel Champ anymore. It's like... he's gone. Like Zenith killed his soul."
Jiggs staggered back.
"No... no no no—Melior! What the hell is this?! Why did the Omega gene-altering formula do this to him?! What did it do to my best friend?!"
Melior shook his head, eyes wide with disbelief.
"I don't know, Jiggs... the formula was only meant to alter Omega physiology. Flesh. Reproduction. I didn't know—Champ... he wasn't like the others. He was the perfect vessel."
"The perfect what?!"
Jiggs turned toward Alaric, trembling with rage and fear.
"Sir Alaric, why Champ? Why him? There are so many others. Why—why did it have to be him?!"
Alaric's breath hitched. He looked down, then closed his eyes—fighting tears.
"I told Voder this before... and now I'll tell you," Alaric said quietly, solemnly. "Champ's blood... it descends directly from Omega King Helix. The first Omega male to ever exist."
"I—what...?"
"And I," Alaric continued, voice tightening, "as one of Helix's descendants, had a child with a high-quality gene Alpha male—Voder. The convergence of those bloodlines... it revived the ancient gene. The one capable of housing Zenith. And that child... was Champ."
The truth shattered the air.
Jiggs could barely breathe. He looked down. Shaking his head.
"What happens now? What happens to us? To Champ? Is he really... gone?"
"...No one knows," Alaric said.
Then—
The ground trembled.
Dust fell from the ceiling. Cracks split across the walls. The entire basecamp was collapsing.
"Run!" someone shouted.
They fled.
Dashing through the crumbling corridors, ducking falling debris, until finally—
They emerged outside.
But what met them...
Was not safety.
A blood-red sky stretched across the ruins of Verilios, casting the land in apocalyptic light. Ash drifted like snow—quiet, suffocating. Not from war.
But from Zenith's purge.
The once-mighty banners of Verilios were now nothing more than torn fabric littered across a blackened wasteland.
There were no screams.
There was no resistance.
Just silence.
Jiggs stared at the crimson sky, watching it split like a wound opening in the heavens.
And in that moment...
He realized—
"This isn't about saving Champ anymore," he whispered, horror wrapping around his voice like a noose. "This is about surviving him, Zenith."
Voder stepped forward, resolute.
"We must return to Aurivelle. We have to warn them all. We may be facing a god—but we cannot afford to give in. We have to seek refuge."
And with that—
Their broken group turned away from the ashes of Verilios, not knowing when—or where—Zenith would strike next.
Only that when he did...
The world would never be the same again.
...
...
...
The Rise and Fall of Zenith
Before the rise of Alphas, Omegas, Sigmas, and Betas...
There was Zenith.
The First.
The Origin.
The Balance.
He walked alone at the edge of creation—cloaked in the smoke of collapsed stars, crowned by nothing, followed by everything. His presence arrived not with scent nor sound, but with silence—a silence so profound it silenced beasts, stilled storms, and burned the wings off angels.
The world did not bow because it was commanded.
It bowed... because it understood.
That... was his power.
And yet—
Despite holding all creation in his palm, Zenith wept.
Because even gods can be lonely.
There were no Alphas.
No Omegas.
No Sigmas.
No Betas.
Only him.
Only Zenith.
He held dominion over everything, and yet played alone, dancing with nature like a child chasing shadows in the void. He had no counterpart. No voice to echo his thoughts. No soul to meet his gaze.
It began with loneliness.
Zenith stood in an eternal silence.
He was everything—and thus, had no one.
So, from his eternal soul, he tore himself apart—not from wrath, but longing.
Each piece he tore was not a caste.
It was a missing piece of himself.
In his desperation to feel whole, he divided his celestial power into four fragments. These fragments would breathe. They would feel. They would live.
And in doing so, they would carry his essence.
The First Fragment
Torn from the fire burning in his chest.
Dominant. Blazing. Protective.
This became Alpha—
The hammer of war.
The lion's roar.
The throne without question.
But Alpha did not know how to feel.
It only knew how to take.
The Second Fragment
Born from the echo vibrating in his bones.
Soft. Receptive. Infinite in depth.
This became Omega—
The vessel of life.
The heartbeat of civilization.
The sacrificial warmth.
But Omega did not know how to protect.
It only knew how to give.
The Third Fragment
Split from the silence between his thoughts.
Measured. Steady. Observant.
This became Beta—
The balance.
The bridge.
The whisper between storms.
But Beta lacked direction.
It only knew how to watch.
The Fourth Fragment
Carved from his rebellion.
Wild. Untamed. Alone.
This became Sigma—
The rogue.
The thinker.
The king of no kingdom.
But Sigma lacked unity.
It only knew how to run.
From these fragments, he sculpted beings.
The First Alpha: Cervix
Muscular. Brave. Dominant.
The warrior. The protector.
The First Omega: Helix
Loving. Just. Brilliant.
The nurturer. The giver of life.
The First Beta: Arcen
Steady. Hardworking. Loyal.
The bridge between power and peace.
The First Sigma: Myhrr
Solitary. Introspective.
A mystery wrapped in strength.
And to ensure the cycle of creation, Zenith crafted a counterpart— Purin, the first Omega Female—gentle, wise, and fertile. The mother of multitudes.
Together, they were Zenith's first children. His chosen. His reflections.
And they loved him. They worshipped him as a god, their god.
And for the first time in all of existence...
Zenith was no longer alone.
Though his power had diminished—split among his creations—his joy had never been greater. He taught them to walk, to see, to feel. He showed them how the world moved—how they could move within it.
When danger came, Cervix fought.
When wounds appeared, Helix and Purin healed.
Arcen followed, supported, worked tirelessly.
And Myhrr stood at the edge, silent, protective from the shadows.
Zenith watched them—his creations.
And every time they laughed, learned, or cried...
He wept tears of joy.
Together, they traveled across the world. They hunted, they built, they nurtured.
And from the final reserve of his power, Zenith breathed life into more Alphas, Omegas, Betas, and Sigmas—spreading their kind.
The first civilization was born.
They named their Kingdom as Aurivelle.
And in the heart of a great fertile land, they built their kingdom in the land of Veydith.
They asked Zenith to be their king.
But he declined.
"I wish only to wander," he said. "To feel the world bloom. To see my creations prosper and live. To see and feel the happiness of the nature that I want to share with everybody."
Instead, he appointed Helix—wise, compassionate, and just—as the first Omega King of Aurivelle.
Cervix and the Alphas became his sword and shield.
Arcen and the Betas became the spine of society.
Myhrr and the Sigmas became the protectors in the shadows, safeguarding balance.
And so, a hierarchy was born.
The world thrived.
But nothing gold ever stays.
As time passed, the harmony began to splinter.
Civilization grew. Minds sharpened. Ambitions ignited.
And from peace... came division.
The four races began to question the throne.
The Omegas remained loyal to Helix.
But the Alphas believed Cervix should lead—he was strong, commanding, unbreakable.
The Betas, long in the shadows, wanted a voice, a chance to lead for once.
And the Sigmas... watched silently, ready to strike should everything fall.
Tensions escalated.
Until one day—
War broke out.
A war that divided bloodlines.
A war that tore brothers apart.
In desperation, the Omegas turned to Zenith once more, to seek help, to defeat and kill the other bloodlines.
But when Zenith learned of the betrayal...
His heart shattered.
"You fight for power? For titles? After all I gave...?"
His sorrow turned to fury.
He made a decision:
He would erase his creations.
Wipe the slate clean.
But his children—his beloved fragments—refused.
They could not accept death. Not after all they'd built.
So, the four races made a choice.
They declared Zenith a deviation.
A corruption.
A relic of a time they no longer wished to remember.
They erased his name.
Buried it under myths.
Rewrote the stars to forget him.
They created new gods.
And worst of all—
They betrayed him.
Led by Cervix and Helix.
The very first Alpha and Omega he created.
The ones he loved most.
Together with Arcen, Myhrr, and Purin, they used the powers he had given them—his powers—to perform the unthinkable:
They sealed their god away.
Not with iron, but with ritual.
Not with death, but with silence.
And as the final chains tightened—
Zenith did not scream.
He whispered.
"I will return...Remember that, my sinful creations.
Especially you, Cervix and Helix— The two I trusted most.
The moment your bloodlines merge— When an Alpha and Omega descendant from your lines give birth...
I will rise again.
And when I do—I will erase you all."
And so, he fell.
Buried not beneath the earth—
But beneath the lies of his own children.
But the stars remember.
And the blood still runs.
And soon...
Zenith will return.
...
...
...
In the end, they succeeded.
With hands that once trembled in reverence, the Five—Cervix, Helix, Arcen, Myhrr, and Purin—united their borrowed powers and performed the forbidden rite. A ritual not of death, but of sealing. A cosmic cage meant to trap the very being who gave them breath. Their creator. Their god. The balance that once held the universe in harmony.
Zenith was gone.
Erased not by blade or poison, but by the very fragments of himself he had torn free in loneliness.
And yet, the moment his divine light dimmed—
Darkness crept in.
There was no peace. No long-awaited harmony.
Only silence.
And then... violence.
Without Zenith, there was no longer balance—only desire.
Desire for power.
Desire for thrones.
Desire to rule, to reshape, to possess.
The world he had built out of love began to fester.
Unity was swallowed by ambition.
Gratitude dissolved into greed.
Bonds turned to blades.
And betrayal—betrayal became law.
The Alpha males, once protectors of peace, became tyrants of blood.
Their eyes no longer looked toward harmony.
They stared only at conquest.
Their first decree: eradicate the Omegas males.
They feared their softness. Envied their wisdom. Resented their bond to Zenith's divine legacy.
And so, they struck.
They began with the heart.
Helix was the first to fall.
The first Omega.
The king of compassion.
The soul of balance.
He was cut down by the very hands that once promised to protect him.
It wasn't a battle.
It was an execution.
With Helix gone, the purge began. Omega males were hunted like animals. Even Helix's own child—his last breath, his legacy—was chased through forests, dragged from temples, and cast into chains.
And where did they send them?
Verilios.
A wasteland carved from cruelty.
It wasn't a sanctuary.
It wasn't even a prison.
It was a graveyard—
A forsaken corner of the world where Omega males were sent to be forgotten.
Where names faded.
Where futures died.
The Alpha males left only a few Omega females alive—breeders, nothing more.
The Beta males and females were shackled into servitude, never to rise above their imposed role.
And the Sigma males?
Some vanished into shadows.
Most were hunted down and slaughtered.
The world that Zenith had dreamed of...
Was no longer a dream.
It was a nightmare.
And deep in the silence of that betrayal, sealed in a prison of their making—
Zenith began to stir.
The Alphas spared only a handful of Omega females—tools for breeding, for ensuring the Alpha line would continue.
The Beta males and females were forced into subservience—silent workers, voiceless laborers.
The Sigma males?
They vanished.
Some fled into shadows.
Most were slaughtered.
And so, the beautiful balance Zenith once created...
Was shattered.
The world was no longer a reflection of its creator.
It was a mockery.
But Zenith had spoken a prophecy before he vanished.
A warning.
"The moment the blood of Cervix and Helix becomes one again— I shall return.
And I will cleanse what I once created."
And unknowingly... the prophecy had already begun to breathe.
It began not with thunder, nor fire from the heavens—but in the quiet union of two souls whose blood carried the weight of forgotten divinity. From the sacred lineage of Helix, the fallen Omega King, came Alaric—the last living echo of wisdom, mercy, and balance.
And from the proud and dominant line of Cervix, the First Alpha, came Voder—a warrior born, forged in loyalty, and tempered by discipline.
They were never meant to meet. Their bloodlines were separated. And yet, the universe bent around their crossing paths.
Their bond was not born of conquest or prophecy. It wasn't declared in temples or foreseen in sacred scrolls. It was quiet. Human. Unassuming.
But fate doesn't need an audience.
From their union came life.
A child, born not amidst celebration but beneath the hush of secrecy. There were no parades. No omens written in the stars. Only silence—and within it, something ancient stirred. This child, unknown even to his own parents, was not merely a new life.
He was a collision of legacies.
He bore no crown, yet destiny weighed on his shoulders heavier than any throne. He carried a curse older than memory, etched into his very veins. Neither a weapon forged for war nor a miracle crafted from love. He was something else entirely.
He was inevitable.
A child fated to awaken what had been sealed.
A cursed vessel born to unlock the prison that no mortal could reach.
That child... was Champ.
Alaric and Voder never knew what they had created. They never imagined that in their love, they would fulfill the very prophecy their ancestors tried to bury. To them, he was simply their son.
But fate knew.
And so did Zenith.
For the moment Champ drew his first breath, something ancient—something cosmic—began to stir beneath the skin of the universe. At first, it was only a whisper. A flicker in the dark. The faint rumble of power reawakening from its slumber.
But it grew.
Silent. Subtle. Inevitable.
Until one day... he awakened.
Zenith—no longer bound by the stars, no longer sealed behind ritual and myth—rose once more.
But not as a formless god.
Not as legend.
He returned as flesh and blood.
Reborn inside his vessel.
Inside Champ.
A divine storm draped in human skin.
A god cloaked in mortality.
No longer distant. No longer dreaming.
Now... he walks.
And his purpose is clear.
He is not here to forgive.
He is not here to rule.
He is here to finish what was started—
To reclaim his world.
To purge the world of its corruption.
To annihilate the Alphas, Omegas, Sigmas, and Betas alike.
It is not out of vengeance that Zenith rises. There is no fury in his return, no blind rage demanding retribution. What drives him is something far deeper—unshakable, immovable, and ancient. It is resolve. A stillness sharpened by betrayal, shaped by solitude, and forged in the quiet heartbreak of watching his children destroy everything he gave them. This is not wrath. This is judgment.
Because they were all his. Every Alpha, every Omega, every Beta and Sigma. Each one a fragment carved from his soul, molded from his divine essence. They were never meant to divide, to conquer, to enslave one another in scent and caste. They were meant to reflect him—his balance, his unity, his longing. But they turned away. They broke him apart and called it evolution.
And now, he will take them back.
Not one fragment will remain. Not one line of corrupted blood will be spared. They will not be punished—they will be reclaimed. Rewritten. Erased. Not because he hates them, but because they no longer resemble the truth of who they were meant to be. He will not let the world he built rot any longer under their hands.
Zenith does not return to wage war. War is petty. Mortal. Temporary. He returns for something far more permanent.
He returns for rebirth.
He will burn this world down to its foundation—until kingdoms are dust, until scent hierarchies are ash, until names like Alpha and Omega are forgotten whispers on a scorched wind. He will unmake the bones of civilization. He will silence the echo of every betrayal.
And when nothing is left but silence—
He will begin again.
Not with fragments.
Not with castes.
But with something whole.
Something perfect.
A new world.
Shaped by the creator himself.
Untouched by corruption.
Untouched by love.
Just him.
And silence.
As it was always meant to be.
...
...
...
One Month Later...
The world—Aurivelle and Verilios—was no longer recognizable.
What once shimmered with life, color, and glory had been reduced to nothing but shadows and silence. A scorched wasteland draped in despair. The once-thriving empires now lay in ruin.
The skies no longer carried birdsong or sunlight.
Only ash.
Ash that danced in the winds like haunted confetti—the remains of Alphas, Omegas, and Betas who once called this world home. Entire bloodlines erased from existence.
Wherever Zenith looked, obliteration followed.
He spared no one. No face. No lineage. No memory.
Those who survived his merciless purge had retreated into the one place untouched by the storm—the Alpha King's estate, or what was left of it.
The grand fortress, once the pride of the kingdom, now stood cracked and crumbling. Its towers bowed. Its walls scorched black. Only the underground dungeons offered shelter—hidden beneath the rubble like the last heartbeat of a dying world.
Within that cold, damp cavern... the final eight survivors remained.
No one spoke.
No one cried.
They simply stared—vacant, hollow, broken.
Among them, Alaric paced slowly, his eyes scanning the shattered expressions around him, once hailed as champions now sat curled up against stone walls, drained of hope.
"We're the last..." he whispered under his breath, his voice nearly consumed by the silence.
Beside him, Voder leaned in, his voice soft. "Do you think... anyone else made it?"
Alaric didn't answer immediately. His jaw trembled. "I don't know, Voder... I truly don't. But—" His voice broke. "Even Kali... she vanished right in front of me."
Tears blurred his eyes as his mind drifted back— To that moment in Veydith.
When he saw her again after so long.
When he reached out, desperate to touch her—
But before their fingers could meet, she was gone.
Reduced to ash.
Her ashes had clung to his body like a cruel embrace.
Her final touch—nothing more than dust.
"I believe it's not over yet," Voder said, placing a firm hand on Alaric's shoulder. "There's still hope. We can bring them back."
"A month has passed," Alaric murmured, voice shaking. "And it still feels like yesterday."
A new figure approached, his footsteps hesitant, his eyes downcast.
"I'm sorry..." Theron's voice was thick with guilt. "If only... If I hadn't been so blind. If I hadn't been so greedy... none of this would've happened."
Voder took a deep breath, laying his hand on Theron's shoulder. "What's done is done. We're all that's left. Regret has no place here now. Only unity. We hold on to each other—or we vanish alone."
Theron nodded slowly. "Still... I owe you all more than an apology. I owe you action. And if not for your brother—Henry—I wouldn't have survived the poison in my veins."
A faint smile tugged at Voder's lips. "Henry loves you. And nothing I said could stop him. I tried. But in the end... he followed his heart. And I can't fault him for that."
Theron's gaze shifted toward the edge of the dungeon, where a lone figure sat against the wall—Deux.
Motionless.
Speechless.
Staring into nothing.
"He barely eats. Doesn't speak. I don't know what to do anymore," Theron whispered. "It's like... he's fading."
"Because losing someone you love..." Voder replied, "isn't just pain. It's being forgotten by them... that's the wound that never heals."
"I've tried talking to him. But he won't answer. I don't even know if it's hate—or if I simply never knew how to be his father."
Silence fell again, until Alaric stood.
"I'll try," he said, walking toward Deux with purpose. "I'll do what I can to reach him."
He sat beside him. The silence between them was deafening. Heavy.
Then—he spoke gently.
"How are you holding up, Deux?"
No response.
Still staring.
Alaric didn't stop.
"I know it hurts. Seeing Champ like that—empty, unfamiliar. Like he doesn't know us. But I believe... his spirit is still alive inside him. He's not lost."
And for the first time...
Deux exhaled. A shaky, broken breath.
"I believe it too," he said quietly. "I keep trying to feel him. Even a sliver. A flicker."
He turned to Alaric, eyes glistening. "Sometimes... I hear him. In my dreams. Calling my name. But that's all. Just his voice. Echoing."
"Keep feeling for him," Alaric encouraged, gripping his hand. "Don't let go. He feels you too. I know he does."
Theron and Voder approached slowly.
Deux looked up—his voice cracking.
"Father... Mr. Voder..."
He was met with faint smiles—Alpha males who once held armies in their grip, now humbled by the weight of loss.
"The fight's not over, Deux," Voder said with a grin. "Prove to me you're worthy. Prove you deserve to stand beside Champ."
Theron added, "Be happy. Choose Champ. Choose love. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Follow your heart this time."
Alaric nodded. "We promised, remember? To build a peaceful world. That dream's still alive."
And Deux... nodded.
Just then—
A loud laugh. Followed by a chaotic shout.
The entire group turned toward the sound, where three familiar voices echoed through the stone corridors.
Jiggs, Melior, and Henry were huddled together, energized.
"So I was right!" Jiggs declared. "The best way to counter divine power... is science!"
Melior nodded. "Exactly. This is our final chance to survive."
Henry stepped in, eyes glowing with adrenaline. "And I can't believe I'm saying this... but we're going to hack the brain of a god using leftover tech fragments. The plan's simple. Relatively. We inject a neural virus into Zenith's mind—a backdoor synaptic spike disguised as divine resonance."
Jiggs gasped. "So in short... we're hacking his BRAIN!? That's genius!"
Henry smirked. "You got it, Jiggs."
Jiggs pumped a fist. "That's my forte, baby!"
Melior shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm saying this... but talking to two Betas who rival my intelligence? Never thought I'd see the day."
Jiggs grinned smugly. "Well, Dr. Henry's the valedictorian. I'm just second honor."
And for the first time in a month...
Laughter filled the dungeon.
Flickering through the darkness.
A small, fragile reminder that hope still burned.
Even in the ashes.
"Alright," Melior finally said, his voice cutting through the layered tension like a scalpel. "Let's drop the jokes. We're not just talking about hacking a god anymore. We're talking about breaching the cerebral veil—deep into Zenith's consciousness—where, if we're lucky, Champ's original self might still exist. Buried. Dormant. Suppressed."
Jiggs' eyes widened. "So you're saying Champ's soul... his essence... is still alive? Just sealed inside his own body?"
Melior nodded gravely. "Exactly. And if we manage to hack Zenith's brain—if we slip past the divine firewall—we can free Champ. Give him the strength to fight Zenith from within. Think of it like a... system update. But for gods."
Henry stepped in, grim. "Except if the update fails... the system doesn't crash. It deletes the entire universe."
Jiggs let out a weak, nervous laugh. "Oh. Cool. So... low stakes. Just the usual."
"I have no idea what any of you are talking about," Silver grunted from the corner, clearly annoyed. "Where's the plan that involves punching things?"
Melior turned to him, patient but firm. "Fighting Zenith isn't an option. He's beyond your fists. Before you can even lift a finger—you'll be ash. That's not bravado. That's physics."
Silver rolled his eyes. "Tch. Lame."
"But," Melior continued, "if we succeed in tapping into his mind, if we gain access to Champ's sealed consciousness—there's a real chance this could work. We just need someone who can reach him. Telepathically."
"Which is where our real advantage comes in," Henry added, eyes sparkling. "Because we don't need tech for that."
At that moment, footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Deux had arrived, flanked by the others.
Henry pointed. "There he is. The only being capable of speaking to Champ... mind to mind."
"Of course!" Jiggs exclaimed. "The bond. The Alpha toxin link between them. Psychic resonance!"
Deux's voice was steady, his tone devoid of hesitation. "Just tell me what needs to be done. I'll do it."
Henry nodded, pacing. "We're going to inject a neural virus into Zenith's consciousness. You're the only one who can reach Champ once it's in. You're the best candidate we've got."
"But that's not just the problem," Melior interrupted, frowning. "The hard part is delivery. How do we inject the virus into Zenith's brain? He's untouchable. We can't even get close."
Everyone fell silent.
The weight of that impossibility pressed down on them.
Then—Jiggs raised a hand, unusually serious.
"I just need to clarify one thing. If I'm right, this might be our only shot. It's reckless. It's suicidal. And it has—maybe—a 10% success rate."
Everyone turned to him.
Even Silver leaned in.
Jiggs' tone changed. He wasn't joking anymore. This was the voice of someone who had found something terrifying—and brilliant.
"Every time Zenith vaporizes someone... he doesn't just kill them, right?"
"No," Melior answered slowly. "According to the ancient lore, Zenith created all life. So when he obliterates someone, he's not destroying them... he's reclaiming them. Absorbing their soul. Like fuel. Pulling them back into himself."
Henry added grimly, "I've seen it. When Kali turned to ash... I saw something strange. A flicker. White light. Like a soul being drawn in. Just a flash—but real. Residual energy. It wasn't random."
Voder's voice cracked. "That's why he keeps getting stronger... after every massacre."
Melior nodded. "A walking spiritual black hole."
"And that," Jiggs said, voice tight with adrenaline, "is how we get in."
Everyone turned to him again.
"If we can bind the neural virus to one soul—just one—it'll ride in with the next absorption. He won't notice. He'll consume it. And once inside... that soul can walk straight into his mind and hack it from the inside out."
Henry and Melior stared at him, stunned.
"And what about the soul?" Jiggs asked. "Can the virus keep it from... going dormant? From vanishing inside him?"
Melior's eyes lit up. "Yes. We can create a neural echo. A consciousness loop. It'll keep the soul awake—even within Zenith."
"I think we can imprint the virus directly into the soul," Henry added. "Through resonance-based sequencing."
Then his voice lowered.
"But Jiggs... this is a one-way trip. The soul we send in might not come back."
The room fell silent again.
Crushing.
No one breathed.
No one moved.
Everyone stared at the floor... the ceiling... anywhere but each other.
Jiggs whispered, "Someone has to die. Someone has to let themselves be taken."
The words echoed like thunder.
Then—
Footsteps.
Deux stepped forward.
No fanfare. No hesitation.
Just a quiet, resolute calm.
"I'll do it," he said.
Everyone turned, stunned.
Theron's voice trembled. "Deux... are you sure?"
Henry stepped forward, urgent. "This isn't infiltration. This is self-erasure. You'll be turned to ash. You'll be devoured."
"I know," Deux replied, unwavering. "But I'm the only one who can do it. Physically. Mentally. Psychically. I'm bonded to Champ. This ends with me. I have to save him. Even if I have to die to do it."
Jiggs' voice cracked. "I didn't want it to come to this. There has to be another way— Doc Henry, Melior, we can build something, right?! Something else?!"
Melior shook his head, solemn. "No machine can do what a soul can."
Henry lowered his gaze. "We have to bet everything on this plan."
A voice came from the back—
Silver.
"I believe in it," he said, surprising everyone. "Sure, Jiggs' plans are always insane and ridiculous—but they work. Somehow. You're the only one dumb enough to doubt yourself."
Jiggs chuckled through his tears. "Silver..."
Deux stepped closer, smiling faintly. "I know I don't always show it, Jiggs, but I've always trusted you. Especially when I wasn't there for Champ... I knew you were. You are not just a friend to me, Jiggs, but you have been a family."
That broke him.
Jiggs began to cry—quietly wiping away the tears, voice trembling.
"Everyone..."
Deux turned to him, face firm.
"No more drama. Let's end this."
Jiggs took a deep breath, nodded, and raised his hand like a commander preparing for battle.
"Then it's settled. Our final mission for Champ Clan..."
He smiled through the tears, eyes burning with purpose.
"Save Master Champ!"
Melior positioned himself in front of the rusted terminal—an ancient piece of tech they were lucky to find still functioning in their underground hideout.
"Deux, lie down on the bed," he instructed, his tone steady but urgent. "We're ready to begin. It's time to inject the neural virus into your system."
Without hesitation, Deux climbed onto the medical bed, his expression calm, resolute.
Henry moved next, his hands steady but his jaw clenched with tension. He slid a needle into the vein near Deux's arm, attaching the IV tube with surgical precision.
"This might sting," Henry warned softly, "It's a foreign agent... your body's never felt anything like this."
Deux simply nodded. "I'm ready."
Jiggs, meanwhile, stood silently in the corner, watching every movement, every wire, every flicker on the terminal. He was shaking—fidgeting. Unnerved.
Then came a steadying hand on his shoulder.
Silver.
He pulled Jiggs close, resting an arm around him with unexpected tenderness.
"Stop pacing," Silver said quietly, with the faintest smile. "We're going to succeed."
"Silver..." Jiggs whispered, eyes brimming. "Thank you for comforting me."
"I don't want you to spiral," Silver murmured. "You know I worry about your health these past few days."
Jiggs, then, gave Silver a soft and sweet smile as he held his hands firmly.
Back at the terminal, Melior's fingers flew across the keyboard. "You'll be diving into Zenith's core, Deux. A broken mind. A divine psyche cracked beyond repair. No body can survive inside that realm. Only will."
Deux let out a small grin. "Good thing my will is more stubborn than most gods."
Theron stepped forward, voice catching. "You're not throwing yourself away, right? You are coming back?"
"Yes, Father," Deux said, and for the first time in so long—he smiled. "I'm coming back. With Champ."
And just for a moment... Theron breathed. That smile—it anchored him.
Jiggs leaned forward, concern written all over his face. "But Deux... once you're inside—how will you even find him? There's no map, no guide, nothing."
"I'll look for what Zenith forgot," Deux answered. "A memory. A crack. I know Champ is still in there. I can feel him."
"And when you find him?" Jiggs asked, voice tight.
"I'll remind him who he is. And together, we'll take Zenith down from the inside."
Melior began inputting final commands. "I'm encoding the virus directly into your soulprint. From here on out, it's all you. Once you cross over... we won't be able to reach you."
Deux smirked. "Good. I hate group chats anyway."
Silver laughed. "You idiot," he said fondly. Then his voice dropped into something raw. "Come back. You need to see my child with Jiggs."
Silence. Thick. Electric.
"Jiggs, you are pregnant?" Voder asked.
Everyone turned—stunned.
Jiggs' eyes widened in horror. "Silver—why did you say that?! It was supposed to be a surprise and I was going to tell Champ about this first! You ruined it!"
He tried to cover Silver's mouth, but it was too late.
The secret was out.
Amidst the chaos of war and impending death, there had been one night. One moment. Between Jiggs and Silver. And now... a new life grew from it.
Only Melior had known—monitoring Jiggs' condition, watching over him as the first and only Beta male with the rare ability to bear life.
Silver wiped a tear from his eye, no longer hiding behind bravado. "If Deux doesn't make it back... I just wanted him to know. That a piece of us will live on. And if we fail today... I want everyone here to know something."
He turned, facing the room—raw, vulnerable.
"I've been lost for a long time. And yet, this... this path we took together—it gave me purpose. Even if this is our end... the last time that I will meet all of you, I'm happy. I've never felt this kind of happiness before. And I love you all."
For a moment, the impossible had happened.
Silver—the most closed-off, elusive Sigma male—was baring his soul to them all.
He wasn't a weapon.
He wasn't a monster.
He was... human. Capable of love.
"I don't want to make this all about me," Silver continued, chuckling through his tears, "but let me have this moment. I don't know how much time we have left together."
He wiped his face, straightened his stance, and returned to his usual, smug tone.
"And if we do survive... none of you get to bring this up again. Ever. Or I swear, I'll kill you all myself."
Laughter.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't long.
But it was real.
And for the first time in what felt like ages, the room felt lighter.
Even if this was their last day... they were together.
Melior turned to the terminal. "Alright. We're ready. Deux... brace yourself."
Henry nodded, grabbing the IV controls. "Voder, Theron, Silver—help me hold him down. This won't be gentle."
The three men took position—gripping Deux's arms and legs.
"Beginning transmission in three... two... one..."
Click.
A soft hum echoed.
And then—from the machine—an ethereal blue liquid began to flow through the IV line.
Into Deux.
And then—
His eyes snapped wide.
Pain tore through his body like firestorm lightning. Every nerve screamed. His spine arched. His fists clenched. He screamed.
Henry and the others held him down with all their might as the virus invaded his bloodstream, burning its way toward his soul.
Alaric and Jiggs could only watch—helpless.
Powerless.
Seconds stretched like eternity.
Then... it stopped.
Deux collapsed into the bed, gasping—his skin drenched in sweat, his chest heaving.
Henry checked the monitor. "Heartrate stabilizing... vitals normal... no organ damage detected."
Melior smiled in relief. "We did it. The neural virus is inside him."
And then—
The ground trembled.
A low, ominous rumble.
Dust trickled from the ceiling. Lights flickered.
Jiggs turned, eyes wide. "He's here..."
He swallowed hard, clutching Silver's hand.
"Deux, it's time, for the final mission."
End of Chapter 52