Maya City.

Chaos erupted within the lord’s mansion that night.

As the egg within the lord’s wife’s womb continued to develop, strange phenomena began manifesting throughout the mansion.

Ancient artifacts within the old building started moving as if alive. Figures in wall paintings opened their mouths to speak. Benches were seen wandering the corridors after dark.

The power of spirituality granted these inanimate objects miraculous abilities, even if only temporarily.

But it was more than enough to thoroughly terrify everyone inside the mansion.

“What’s happening now?” someone shouted as the candelabras in the castle began dancing, their flames casting flickering shadows that sent people running in panic.

“The paintings! The paintings on the walls are moving again!” another cried as they tumbled down the stairs, having seen the portraits hung high above shift and stir.

People crowded together fearfully in the great hall.

“Why is this happening?” Even the elderly servants, who had lived in the lord’s mansion for many years, had never witnessed such unsettling sights.

“The lady… what exactly is she carrying?” a maid whispered, daring not to finish her thought aloud, wondering what kind of creature it could be.

At that moment, Shana descended from upstairs. Standing at the second-floor hallway railing, he addressed the commotion below.

“What is all this noise about?”

“It is merely the manifestation of supernatural ability. Such phenomena often accompany the birth of those with divine gifts.”

Yet, no one had ever heard of a birth affecting inanimate objects quite like this.

Still, faced with their lord, the mansion’s servants did not dare contradict him.

Shana then turned and returned upstairs to tend to his wife.

He left them with parting words.

“Everyone, go about your business outside. Do not come upstairs unless it is necessary.”

“Also,” Shana added, his tone firm, “no one is permitted to leave the grounds for the time being. You are strictly forbidden from speaking of these events to anyone outside.”

By prohibiting anyone from ascending to the upper floor, Shana temporarily brought the chaos under control.

Shana entered the room and gazed at his wife lying quietly in bed.

Her expression was peaceful, her complexion radiant.

She remained as beautiful as ever.

But Shana could sense the power within her rapidly fading.

He desperately wanted to save his happiness, to save his wife and child, to save everything he cherished.

“Don’t worry!” he whispered, his voice trembling with forced determination.

“There will be a way. I have written to my father.”

“He is a powerful man who has traveled the entire world. He is far more capable than I am.”

“He will find a way to save you and our child.”

Clutching Kashan’s hand tightly, he pressed it to his forehead, his eyes shut as he softly called her name.

“Kashan…”

The next day.

Several figures riding Land Dragons arrived swiftly outside the city. Shana’s “father” had come to Maya City.

At the lord’s mansion, Shana hurried outside to greet him.

“My lord, he waits outside,” a guard announced.

The heavy wooden doors opened, revealing his “father’s” figure standing there.

Young Shana watched as his “father” dismounted the Land Dragon, his tail unfurling as he stood firmly on the ground.

Though only a few years had passed, his “father” appeared to have aged very rapidly.

But at this moment, young Shana was completely consumed by the relief of his “father’s” arrival. Like finding an anchor in a storm, he rushed forward to embrace the older man.

“Father!” Shana exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. “You are here at last.”

His “father” looked down at Shana and replied steadily.

“Yes, I am here now.”

“And soon, everything will finally come to an end.”

Young Shana eagerly led his “father” to his wife’s room, his hopes pinned on this man blessed by divine beings and possessing miraculous powers.

“Father, surely you must have a way,” he pleaded. “Please, tell me you can save Kashan.”

His “father” glanced at the woman lying on the bed. In an instant, he saw through her true nature and understood the entire truth of the situation.

His “father” turned his head and looked directly at Shana.

“Young Shana,” his father began, meeting his desperate eyes. “No one can save her.”

He paused, then added softly, “She passed away long ago. There is no way to bring back someone who has been gone for so many years.”

Young Shana did not understand. His mind went completely blank.

The lifeline he had desperately clung to was slowly slipping from his grasp. His trusted father was telling him there was no way to save his wife.

He stepped forward anxiously. “Father?”

“What are you saying?”

“She is clearly alive, living and breathing right before us.”

“She is just ill. There must be a way.”

Young Shana could not comprehend the meaning behind his “father’s” words, but his “father” continued, gradually revealing the cruel truth.

Middle-aged Shana looked again at the woman on the bed. Very long ago, he had come to Maya City before, tracking the Camon clan after learning from one of their fragments that the entire clan had gathered here.

The reason for the Camon clan’s gathering was the woman before them.

“She died a very long time ago. She only believes she is still alive.”

“What kept her seemingly alive, what allowed her to continue existing,” he explained, “were the Memory Threads of the Camon clan.”

“These threads preserved her memories, making her believe she was still living.”

Middle-aged Shana walked to the window, pointing toward a distant river.

“Many years ago,” he said softly. “She drowned in that river and passed away.”

“Her life ended, and her life dream returned to the realm of the divine beings.”

“The Camon clan used her body, copied her memories, and made her ‘come alive’ again.”

“She inherited the Camon clan’s final mission.”

Middle-aged Shana turned to look at young Shana, speaking slowly. “She was meant to wait here for someone, to wait for a person named Shana.”

Young Shana had heard the first part of this story before. His wife Kashan had told it to him once, laughing about how lucky she had been to survive drowning.

He had always treated it as just an amusing tale, thinking his wife Kashan was truly fortunate.

But now, he finally realized it was not just a story, and it had nothing to do with luck.

“What… what does this mean?” Shana’s voice wavered as he looked at his father, confusion and fear clouding his features.

“Father?” he asked again, his tone pleading for clarity. “Are you saying Kashan died long ago, and someone else made her live again?”

“Just to wait for my arrival, just to become my wife?”

Middle-aged Shana did not directly address his “son’s” questions, but continued speaking.

“After her death, she was no longer truly herself. She became a gate for transmitting spirituality, a mark for guiding a divine descent.”

“The child in her womb is not your child.”

“It is a vessel for that divine descent.”

Middle-aged Shana’s voice grew cold and sharp. “This was all decided long before you ever came to Maya City.”

“Long before you even began your journey.”

“Long before you were even born.”

Young Shana stared in disbelief, unable to accept any of it.

What madness was this?

All this talk of the Camon clan and vessels for divine descent.

It sounded like the ravings of a madman, nothing a sane person would ever say.

“Father,” Shana said, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I do not understand anything you are saying. Kashan is just ill.”

Young Shana grabbed his “father’s” arm, looking at him with sincere, desperate eyes.

“I beg you, I implore you.”

“Save them. Save my wife and child.”

“You were able to grant me such immense power before. You have traveled the entire world. You must have a way.”

Middle-aged Shana’s cold gaze suddenly changed, softening in an instant.

He looked at Shana with pity and sorrow.

“This is not your child, young Shana.”

“This is a vessel for divine descent.”

“You have sensed it already. Stop deceiving yourself.”

At that moment, Shana’s wife Kashan let out a soft moan from the bed.

“Ah!”

With that sound, a brilliant light burst forth from within the room.

Young Shana immediately looked over, his senses also affected by the phenomenon.

His vision pierced through reality and into the Dream Realm.

Young Shana suddenly saw an intense pillar of light emanating from his wife’s body, connecting to an unknown world beyond.

That was the Dream Realm, the domain of divine beings.

It was a place mortals could not normally perceive.

The entire spacious room began to transform. Everything started shaking violently. The paintings on the walls came alive one by one, releasing wild, echoing laughter.

The room’s candelabras, pottery, and tables all began to shake, their forms becoming distorted and fluid.

Young Shana witnessed the truth for the first time. He saw this hidden demigod resurrection ritual taking place within the Dream Realm.

He trembled in absolute terror.

Only now did he truly understand that everything the other man had said was real.

Meanwhile, middle-aged Shana stood firmly in reality, his back against the shimmering pathway connecting to the Dream Realm.

“Look, young Shana!” he called out.

“The divine being is about to descend. You cannot stop it.”

The woman on the bed curled into a circular shape, like a snake biting its own tail.

Immense power gathered within her body, flowing from the Dream Realm.

Despite the overwhelming power radiating from the ritual, its effects in the physical room remained subtle, manifesting primarily through the unnatural movements of the inanimate objects.

The woman’s body gradually became ethereal within the light, which concentrated intensely at the center of the “tail-biting snake” form.

She produced a glowing egg.

Middle-aged Shana’s expression shifted, a mixture of anticipation and fierce joy lighting up his face.

The moment the Shana clan had awaited across countless generations was finally at hand.

“Soon,” he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “The final ritual is about to begin.”

At this critical moment, young Shana rushed toward his wife.

He collapsed beside the bed.

He wanted to do something, but he had no idea what he could possibly do.

He did not know how to save his wife, much less how to save his child.

He cried out in anguish, unable to accept this horrifying reality.

“No!”

“What is all this? Where is this light coming from?”

“This is my child!”

He turned to glare furiously at his “father.” “Stop trying to deceive me! Who are you?”

“You are not my father.”

“Who are you really?”

Young Shana looked at his “father” in fury. “Did you arrange all of this?”

He started by shouting, but his voice grew increasingly shrill as it broke under the strain.

“What are you trying to do?”

Middle-aged Shana stepped forward purposefully.

He seemed intent on doing something with the egg, perhaps initiating what he called the final ritual.

Young Shana, collapsed by the bed, watched helplessly as his “father” approached step by step toward the bed, toward his “wife” and “child.”

He looked into his “father’s” eyes.

The chilling mercilessness in that gaze, combined with a despair that seemed to have crossed countless ages, hooked into his very soul like barbs.

These were not the eyes that should belong to a human.

He was terrified. He seemed to see the other transform into an endless, suffocating shadow enveloping him.

Consuming him.

Consuming his wife and child as well.

“Stop!”

“Do not touch my wife and child! What are you trying to do?”

In desperation, young Shana grabbed a heavy candelabra from the floor and lunged, stabbing it toward his “father’s” back.

His movement was swift, but his “father” was no ordinary person.

Under normal circumstances, his “father” could have easily dodged the blow.

Yet, just as his father turned to face him, the sharp point of the candelabra drove straight into his chest, piercing his heart.

Young Shana froze in shock.

He released the candelabra, and it clattered to the floor as he collapsed beside it.

“No… no… no…” he stammered.

“What is happening?”

He swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat. “How did it come to this?”

This was not what he had intended at all. He had only meant to force his “father” back, to stop him.

Young Shana could not understand how everything had suddenly spiraled so completely out of control.

He had been so happy just moments before.

He had obtained everything he ever wanted. His life had felt so complete.

Why had everything become like this? When had it all started to go wrong?

Middle-aged Shana turned his head to look at his “son.” At this moment, his gaze showed no surprise, but rather a profound, perfect calm.

It was as if he had been waiting for this exact moment all along.

Only with the death of the previous generation’s Shana could the next generation receive all the accumulated memories.

And now, the final ritual had arrived.

All Shanas must merge into one, becoming truly complete.

Middle-aged Shana reached out his hand and pressed it firmly against young Shana’s head.

His voice echoed like a waking nightmare.

“Young Shana,” his father said, his voice calm yet heavy with unspoken weight. “It is time for you to learn the truth.”

Something writhed continuously within middle-aged Shana’s chest wound, but what flowed out was not blood, but countless fine, white threads.

“The ritual…” he whispered. “It has finally begun.”

Young Shana had killed middle-aged Shana. Countless threads now poured forth from middle-aged Shana’s body.

Middle-aged Shana himself burst like a soap bubble, slowly dissipating within the room.

Dense threads wove together rapidly, converging inside the lord’s mansion.

They extended outward, forming an enormous and incredibly complex ritual array that filled the space.

The final ritual had begun.

It was the ritual of divine resurrection.

Many of the threads also enveloped young Shana, forcibly transmitting the memories of generations upon generations of Shanas directly into his body.

All memories becoming one.

Of the three generations of Shana present moments ago, only one remained now. Another section of the endless cycle had been annihilated.

However, no one noticed that after middle-aged Shana’s body dissolved into foam, several objects had fallen from within him.

A sword.

A ring.

And a transparent heart, like glass.

The transparent heart instantly melted, flowing across the ground like quicksilver.

It seeped silently into the glowing egg at the ritual’s center.

Shana stood lost within the world of memories.

He watched as different versions of Shana walked toward him from ahead in the pure white, empty space, finally merging completely into his own body.

He saw himself sailing a famous ship toward the legendary Lost Kingdom, but ultimately massacring and sacrificing an entire village to complete the divine mission, killing all the innocent elderly, young, and children who lived there.

He saw himself exploring unknown, vast oceans, but unable to withstand the violent storms, his entire crew perishing, leaving only himself to return alone.

He saw himself building a family, raising descendants, but unable to resist the pull of mission and destiny, eventually meeting a tragic end.

He saw himself standing upon the windswept plateau. He saw himself standing firm at the desolate peak of ice and snow.

He saw the primitive era of the snake woman Alcina, following her as they pioneered the future of the Snake People upon the harsh earth.

Time continued its relentless forward march.

He saw himself become various strange species, creatures of both land and sea.

He cried out in horror, trying to reject the flood of identities.

“No!”

“This is not me!”

“None of these are me! This is not who I am!”

He stumbled backward in fear, only to find himself somehow standing above a seemingly bottomless pit.

He looked down into its depths.

He saw mountains of corpses piled high within the pit, remains gathered into an unimaginable mountain of bones reaching towards him.

Those corpses, those people, those countless species.

Both sentient and non-sentient life forms.

They were all himself.

With all memories returning at once, Shana could only writhe in agony on the ground, overwhelmed.

When he finally awoke, dragged back to reality, there was no more elderly Shana, no middle-aged Shana, no young Shana.

In this world, only one Shana remained.

Shana lay on the floor, clutching his head in agony. Through his splayed fingers, he looked in utter despair at the bed just a meter away, at his wife and child upon it.

The massive ritual was activating, its power converging upon that single, glowing egg.

Converging on this intricate ritual array centered on the symbol of the tail-biting snake.

His wife’s power was being drained away bit by bit, while the life within the egg, his child, was being replaced by another mythological being.

Shana watched the transforming figure within the light and reached out his hand helplessly.

“Stop!”

“Stop this!”

“All of you, stop!”

He waved his hands frantically but could not block the flowing, ethereal light.

He tried desperately to reach out, to keep his wife and child, but he could not truly hold onto them.

“Ah!”

He could only cry out in raw pain and absolute despair.

The pain came from his skull, fractured by the influx of memories, but an even greater agony welled up from deep within his heart.

He had wanted so desperately to save his happiness, to save his wife and child, to save everything he thought he had.

But was this happiness ever real?

Had it all been nothing more than a cruel illusion, something that never truly existed?

In his despair and consuming fury, Shana roared like a madman.

“Damn you!”

“Damn you!”

“Damn all of you!”

He grabbed the fallen sword from the ground, his despairing gaze fixed upon “his child” within the egg.

He wanted to kill the new life growing within that vessel, to destroy this ritual array and the plan prepared across countless generations.

His throat raw, his body staggering forward as he spoke words of desperate, final struggle.

“I will destroy you all! I will ruin your plans!”

“I refuse to accept this!”

“I reject the destiny you arranged for me!”

He raised the sword high above his head, crying out with all the remaining strength in his soul.

“Be destroyed!”

“Be destroyed!”

However, dense, ethereal threads descended from above, wrapping tightly around him like strings on a marionette, instantly turning him into a Personality Puppet.

Shana’s body stopped abruptly in midair, pulled upwards by the invisible Memory Threads.

He could not muster even the slightest power to resist their control.

Yet even in this helpless state, he struggled fiercely against the threads’ absolute control, his body jerking awkwardly in midair like a broken marionette.

He swung his sword wildly, trying to cut the controlling threads, but they would not break. They were intangible, yet unbreakable.

At this moment, his wife awakened from her fading slumber on the bed. She lifted her head weakly to look at Shana suspended powerlessly in midair.

“Shana,” she said softly, her voice strangely filled with resolve. “Let me bring him into this world.”

Shana howled loudly, the sound filled with anguish. “He was never our child! Not from the very beginning!”

Tears streamed down his face as Shana spoke to his wife, his voice thick with despair.

“Even you are not real.”

“Everything is a lie. The happiness I thought I had, this entire life I believed I lived.”

“It was nothing more than a beautiful, fleeting dream.”

Yet that puppet of memory now looked stubbornly at her child within the egg.

Her gaze filled with tender love, filled with the primal courage to bring him into the world at any cost.

“No!” she insisted weakly but firmly.

“This is my child.”

“No matter what, I must bring him into this world.”

“No one can take away his right to exist in this world.”

Shana stared at his wife, completely stunned into silence.

Clang.

Even the sword he had gripped so tightly now fell from his numb fingers, hitting the floor with a final, metallic sound.

“None of it is real… none of it ever was,” he whispered, defeated. “Everything was a lie.”

He watched as his wife gradually dissipated, her form transforming into dense, white threads that faded away.

And the spiritual power transmitted through her, as a medium, to the egg had finally completed its transfer.

Xiao’s spiritual reincarnation was complete. The gate for the birth of a mythological being opened wide.

At that precise moment, streams of brilliant light began to flow uncontrollably from Shana’s body, converging rapidly into the mythological egg.

Xiao’s wisdom had returned in full.

The ritual was finally complete.

The ritual’s immense power pierced through the veil of reality into another world, calling forth the descent of something long awaited.

The energy expanded until even the Dream Realm could no longer conceal its magnitude, becoming directly visible within the physical realm.

A blinding pillar of light shot skyward from the mansion, truly opening the gate to the Dream Realm for all to see.

The Gate of Spirituality appeared in the sky above.

It manifested high above the sea of clouds, vast and imposing.

At this moment, everyone in Maya City noticed the strange phenomenon originating from the lord’s mansion. All eyes turned toward the heavens in awe and fear.

“Look over there!” a vendor called out from his stall in the busy street below, pointing urgently at the sky.

“A gate! An enormous gate!” They saw a swirling vortex spreading across the sea of clouds. Behind it lay a void of utter darkness, and within that darkness stood a colossal, white mythological gate.

“It is a divine being! A divine being has appeared!” The gate, representing the presence of divine beings, was a legend widely known throughout Ruhe Beast Island.

The Gate of Spirituality opened a pathway between reality and the Dream Realm. Another unknown being crossed through the void, flashing out from the impenetrable darkness of the Dream Realm.

It was a Divine Artifact, wrapped protectively in a shimmering dream bubble.

It fell from within the gate, appearing majestically in the sky above Maya City.

In the Dream Realm, it had appeared small, insignificant.

But suspended now above the sprawling city, it was revealed to be enormous, dominating the skyline.

Countless dense threads fell like rain from the bubble, connecting directly to the lord’s mansion far below.

One end of the myriad threads led to Shana, suspended helplessly in the air. The other end connected to an ancient, intricately carved stone tablet held within the bubble.

The Destined Marionette had finally appeared.

Shana lifted his head, his gaze fixed on the sky, at the ancient stone tablet wrapped in the colorful, protective bubble.

He looked at it through gritted teeth, releasing a sound that seemed to come not from his throat but ripped directly from the depths of his tormented soul.

“So this is it,” Shana muttered, his voice trembling uncontrollably. “The Divine Artifact that has ruled over us for millions upon millions of years… the source of everything.”

He lifted his gaze higher, his eyes filled with a volatile mix of consuming fear and raw defiance. “At last, you have revealed yourself.”

Under the Destined Marionette’s absolute control, Shana, now merely a Personality Puppet, floated inexorably toward the sky.

And the Memory Threads that had descended to the mortal world began continuously retracting back into the shimmering bubble.

The Memory Thread Camon.

The Personality Puppet Shana.

Thread and puppet were returning to the Divine Artifact, the Destined Marionette, returning into the ancient stone tablet.

The marks branded long ago into the Desire Stone and the Knowledge Stone, everything they once were, gradually returned as well.

They finally recovered their complete, original memories, the memories of the very first Camon and Shana.

Time itself seemed to turn back, unraveling the intricate threads of history all the way to the God-Forsaken Era, two hundred and fifty million years ago.

They saw themselves standing within a grand temple adorned with mysterious, intricate tree-shaped carvings. The temple was filled with priests garbed in long, flowing robes, with Camon and Shana standing proudly as their leaders.

Below the great gate sat an aged Trilobite Man, clinging desperately to life despite being visibly on his last breath.

His consciousness was fading rapidly; he could no longer speak.

Yet, somehow, he still persisted, holding on.

Camon stood on the left: “I am the thread.”

Shana stood on the right: “I am the puppet!”

Camon made an eternal vow, his voice ringing through the temple: “I will oversee the plan, ensuring our master’s return proceeds without fail.”

Shana immediately raised his hand high: “I will execute it. I will surely find our master at the other end of time.”

Their gazes met across the short distance.

Their eyes held unwavering determination and absolute devotion.

They had resolved in that moment to sacrifice everything, no matter the cost.

Back then, they could not possibly have foreseen the immense, crushing weight their vow would ultimately carry.

A weight so heavy that their proclaimed determination to sacrifice everything seemed infinitesimally small in comparison. So heavy that despair seeped into their very marrow and pierced relentlessly through time itself.

Shana’s personality and desires were extracted, meticulously crafted into a Personality Puppet.

Camon merged completely with the Knowledge Stone, becoming the ephemeral Memory Threads.

They both became integral parts of the Divine Artifact, the Destined Marionette.

At last, the ancient tablet fused with the frail old man seated beneath the wall carving. With a final, shallow breath, the elder’s life quietly slipped away into silence.

The tablet followed his departing life dream, drifting away toward a realm unknowable to mortals.

The domain of divine beings.

All the priests within the temple knelt as one upon the cold stone floor, releasing frenzied but perfectly uniform cries that echoed through the chamber.

“The divine being!”

“Shall return!”

Camon and Shana lost their past selves, their original identities consumed by their vow. They crossed vast, unimaginable ages, passing through countless generations of grudges, betrayals, and slaughter.

They pursued a final, elusive peace through endless, agonizing cycles of reincarnation.

Camon and Shana finally saw their origin and understood all the causes and consequences.

They realized their true identities at last.

They were brothers, the children of Barrow, and the devoted servants of Xiao.

In the swirling world of memories, Shana stood once more on the right, while on his left stood a figure composed entirely of shifting white threads.

Shana’s lips trembled, and after a long, heavy silence, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

“Is this it?”

“Is this the entire meaning of our existence?”

The white threads twisted and writhed violently, their movements frantic and chaotic. A piercing sound erupted from the figure, sharp and jagged, like the tormented wail of a storm tearing through the empty air.

Thread and puppet pierced through the fabric of the life dream, entering deep within its core.

The forms of the two brothers gradually dissipated within that ancient memory.

One burst apart into countless scattering threads, the other’s body split open, revealing countless cracks before shattering completely.

The two entered an ancient dream, one they had witnessed many times before…

The God-Descended City.

Before the Palace of Wisdom.

The brothers stood side by side once more, their father Barrow standing proudly before them.

That day, the great square was packed shoulder to shoulder with people.

That day, the Trilobite People enjoyed their final, fleeting moment of glory.

That day, they stepped irrevocably onto the path of endless reincarnation.

The Blood Progenitor stepped forward, placing a magnificent crown upon the head of the Henir family’s king.

The King of Yinsai raised high his royal scepter.

“Yinsai!” the massive crowd roared in perfect unison.

“Long live the King of Yinsai!”

“Long live the King of Yinsai!”

Cheers erupted wave after wave from the ecstatic crowd as thousands upon thousands fell to their knees in reverence.

The crowd became a surging, undulating wave of bodies.

At this pivotal moment, their father, Barrow, turned to face them once more. His eyes held a deep pride, tempered by the weight of solemn expectation.

He called out to them, his voice steady and warm, carrying over the roar of the crowd.

“Shana, Camon, have you been waiting?”

The promise carved through endless ages of reincarnation, eternally inscribed within the fabric of time itself.

This was the last time the three would stand together as father and sons in this world.

Shana gazed at his father. He had countless words he desperately wished to say. The last time he had seen him in these memories, he had questioned him in anger and utter confusion.

But this time, seeing him again, Shana realized the father standing before him was merely an echo within a dream, trapped for millions upon millions of years.

His voice quivered as he whispered the reply, “Father…”

“We have been waiting.”

In the dream, father Barrow’s usually stern expression softened into a warm, genuinely happy smile.

“In that case,” Barrow said softly, his voice steady yet filled with deep emotion. “You have kept your promise to your master.”

Barrow turned and walked away toward the distant horizon.

Everything in the surrounding space turned pure, blinding white. Everything began rapidly dissipating into nothingness.

His figure gradually vanished into the encroaching whiteness.

The dream was complete. The mission finally fulfilled.

Shana stood alone in the endless white space, tears streaming freely down his face as he spoke his final words into the void.

“We waited…”

“For two hundred and fifty million years.”

As the last word left his lips, his form crumbled like a fragile tower made of sand, scattering into countless fading fragments.

His elder brother Camon, transformed into a swirling mass of threads, scattered with him into endless points of light, vanishing forever.

The divine resurrection ritual had succeeded.

The four stones began to merge, their surfaces glowing with an intense, pure light. All impurities burned away in that radiance, leaving only their fundamental essence behind. As extensions of the Desire Stone and the Knowledge Stone, Shana and Camon dissolved naturally, fading completely into nothingness.

This was the culmination of everything they had worked toward, the single moment they had awaited across countless ages.

Above Maya City.

Thread and puppet fully retracted into the artifact. The Destined Marionette became whole once more.

The ancient tablet rapidly melted away within the bubble.

Only two core stones remained, each radiating a distinct, powerful light.

The stones broke free from that bound life dream, their task complete, falling purposefully toward the mortal realm below.

Following the brilliant pillar of light, they fell unerringly into the mythological egg resting at the ritual array’s center within the mansion.

Spirituality, wisdom, desire, and knowledge merged seamlessly as one.

The mythological descent was achieved.

As promised in ancient times, he would return at the other end of time, reborn in mythological form.