In the divine realm, the grand celestial chamber lay silent beneath a sky of ever-turning stars. At the center, beneath the towering pillars etched with runes of fate and eternity, four gods sat upon their thrones: Orven, Loki, Brahma, and Vishnu. A low hum filled the air as Orven's eyes began to glow—a radiant silver fire, pulsing in sync with the hidden threads of destiny. The gods waited, silent, their eyes fixed on him. Then, the glow abruptly stopped. Orven exhaled, and opened his eyes. The weight of time echoed in his voice as he spoke, calm but absolute: "It's time." Every head turned to Vishnu. The god of preservation closed his eyes, his face serene. Without a word, he shifted into a meditative pose atop his throne. His divine form shimmered faintly, like water under moonlight. A breath passed. Then his spirit separated, drifting away from the divine plane into a realm unseen by mortals or gods alike—a place known only in whispers as the World of Souls. A pitch-black void stretched endlessly in all directions, infinite and without horizon. And yet, in that darkness shimmered countless specks of pure white light—souls. Billions of them. Some flickered faintly, nearly extinguished. Others blazed like miniature stars, radiant with potential, pain, or purpose. Vishnu floated calmly between them, his essence scanning, searching, listening for a soul unlike any other. One that had burned across the cosmos like a falling sun. One that still bore the echoes of dragons and gods and betrayal. The soul of the Dragonlord. — Meanwhile, in the throne chamber — Brahma stirred. Wordlessly, he rose from his golden seat and strode toward the far corner of the hall. There, veiled in enchantments and silence, rested a divine artifact—an ancient relic older than creation itself, carved from celestial crystal and bathed in dormant light. Brahma extended his hand, and divine energy surged through his fingers. The relic shuddered. The very air crackled as Brahma began to pour his power into it. Sacred symbols ignited along its surface. The chamber darkened. And then— A crack appeared in the very fabric of space. A jagged line of silver split the air beside the artifact, as if reality itself had begun to fracture beneath the weight of what was coming. The crack widened, light spilling through as the veil between realms parted. Through the tear, billions of galaxies shimmered like fireflies in an endless sea of black—a cosmos sprawling with stars, planets, and dreams yet unborn. Loki approached Brahma, his eyes gleaming with mischief and wonder. He peered into the rift, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Ohhh..." Loki murmured. "You recreated the universe… just like ours. How nostalgic. It's beautiful in a way… cold, young, unspoiled." Then his gaze shifted to Orven. The smile faded—replaced by something colder. "I thought we were friends," Loki said, his tone deceptively light. "And yet you hid this from me?" Orven didn't flinch. "I didn't know about it. And even if I had..." his silver eyes locked on Loki's, hard as stone, "...you'd be the last person I'd tell." Loki let out a dry laugh. "Ok, ok. I get it. Hurtful, though." Before Orven could reply, a pulse of divine energy spread through the hall. Vishnu's eyes opened. "I've found his soul." The chamber fell silent. Even Loki stopped grinning. Curiosity sparked behind his gaze. Quietly, carefully, he reached into the threads of fate and tried to read the future tied to that soul. It was something he had done countless times, bending destinies like silk between his fingers. But this time— Nothing. No vision. No path. No threads to pull. It was expected, of course. After death, fate loses its grip. But even so… Loki's unease grew. He said nothing. No one noticed the flicker of tension in his eyes. They continued the plan. Before they began, Brahma turned to Loki, voice firm. "Do not interfere. Unless it's absolutely necessary." Loki raised his hands in mock surrender. "I won't. Unless the universe is at stake." Then Brahma turned to Vishnu. "Restrain your power. The more magic you release into that world, the more unstable it becomes. If it exceeds its limit… it may collapse entirely." Vishnu nodded. "I understand." Slowly, he began to fold his immense divine energy inward, cloaking it as tightly as possible. The World of Souls began to dim, the white lights drawing inward as Vishnu prepared the transfer. Far below, like a sapphire spark in the dark, Earth became visible—one blue dot in the vast black ocean of creation. Vishnu guided the Dragonlord's soul downward, toward its new vessel—a newborn baby, just moments from death. But as the descent continued, cracks began to show. Despite his efforts, Vishnu's power began to leak. At first, it was a ripple. Then a surge. Holding it back became harder with each passing second. The very fabric of the Earth's reality strained beneath the divine pressure. Panic flickered in Brahma's eyes. "Vishnu—stop! Return, before it's too late!" But before Vishnu could retreat— Loki moved. Unseen by the others, he extended his hand. He reached into the tapestry of humanity on Earth, searching for the nearest soul—any soul—and twisted the strands of fate. In a heartbeat, the Dragonlord's soul veered from its path and surged toward a new target. One chosen not by destiny… …but by Loki. The rift slowly sealed behind them as the gods returned to the divine realm, their faces heavy with tension. Vishnu opened his eyes, breathing hard. His glow had dimmed, his posture weakened from the strain. "I'm sorry," Vishnu said quietly. "I couldn't control the leakage in time." Brahma placed a steady hand on the side of his throne. His voice was calm, but tinged with weariness. "It's alright. The damage was contained. But... what happened to the Dragonlord's soul?" Vishnu hesitated. "If it didn't reach the intended body... then it would've returned to the Soul World. Without a vessel, a soul cannot remain in the mortal plane. It fades back—especially if it was already at the edge of life." Orven leaned forward, urgency sharpening his voice. "Can't we try again? Find it, retrieve it?" Vishnu shook his head. "It's not that simple. Once a soul begins the return process, it becomes nearly impossible to locate. The farther it drifts, the dimmer its signature becomes. Especially a soul that powerful... already in the leaving phase." Brahma sighed deeply. "And even if you could find it again, we can't risk sending it back to that universe. The magical pressure you released during the transfer has already pushed its limits. That world is on the brink of collapse. Sending more power... would be the end of it." A long silence filled the chamber. Then, from the far side, Loki stretched lazily and finally spoke, a wicked grin curling on his lips. "Why are you all so worried?" They turned toward him. Loki's voice was almost smug. "His soul didn't return to the Soul World. It already entered a body." Three sets of divine eyes locked onto him in unison. Brahma narrowed his gaze. "What?" Orven's voice was cold. "What did you do, Loki?" Loki's grin widened with pride. "You're welcome. While Vishnu was leaking magic and losing control... I guided the soul to the nearest human. Simple redirection. Nothing dramatic." The gods turned back to the divine artifact, its surface now glowing. The image focused—zooming in on Earth. They watched. The baby they had chosen—the stillborn child meant to receive the Dragonlord's soul—remained lifeless. His mother sobbed quietly, clutching the small, unmoving form to her chest. The gods turned back to Loki. His smile remained. Brahma's voice was sharp. "Loki… that child is still dead." "When," Loki said with a shrug, "did I ever say I sent the soul into that baby?" Orven's voice turned razor-sharp. "What did you do?" "I told you," Loki said, still calm. "I sent it to the nearest human. It's not my fault you let Vishnu's power surge and veer everything off course." "Who?" Brahma asked, his tone grave. Loki simply raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Just… some random boy. I only remember he was asking for help when the soul arrived." A heavy silence fell upon the chamber. None of them spoke. But all of them understood— The fate of Earth had just changed. And no one—not even the gods—knew who now carried the soul of the Dragonlord.
[END Chapter 11]