Chapter 148: Fang Epochs

A final tear of light slipped from his form, drifting weightlessly into the cosmos—a prayer, a farewell, a memory of a god who dared to hope one last time.

And the universe, once silent, now hummed with awakening destiny.

“Orion, the Great Hunter of the Void. You shall be the Tactician whose mind maps the infinite flow of the cosmos. Your relentless hunt is not merely survival, but the very calculation that keeps the universe in motion.”

” Crux, your Purest Light and Sovereign Guide. Guide all celestial life with your radiance, but wield your authority as Punisher against those who violate the cosmic order. Let your judgment be wisdom, not zeal, before the act of crucifixion.”

” Draco, you have primal strength. Be the Unbreakable Shield of the cosmos. Protect this nascent universe with the full measure of your vast, untamed power.”

” Ursa, The Fortress: Your spirit is an impenetrable Bastion. Let your skin be the armor that turns aside all harm, and let your ferocity stand as a boundary against chaos.”

Triangulum, Necro-Cosmic Keeper: You are the guardian of what was. Keeper of the dead stars and silent planets, your power to teleport and bridge the vastness of space ensures that the whole of the universe remains connected.”

…..(Mentioning).

“Go forth,” he proclaimed, his voice carrying like thunder woven with lullaby. “Shape the cosmos. Guard what is born. And when I return—when my gaze once again sweeps this universe—I shall reward each of you according to your accomplishments.”

His tone deepened, echoing through every newborn star, every slumbering nebula, every breath of cosmic dust.

“If I am pleased… I shall crown one among you as Constellar King, and another as Constellar Queen—sovereigns worthy to rule and shepherd the celestial race.”

A pause, solemn and radiant.

“Lead not through fear, but through wisdom. Not through dominion, but through harmony.”

Those final words trembled like sacred truth, binding fate to prophecy.

Then the Mighty Celestial Being—Genesis, the First Light, the Wanderer of Beginnings—stood in silence as creation shimmered around him. His form glowed, dissolving at the edges into threads of starlight. His essence drifted outward, becoming cosmic breath, cosmic memory, cosmic hope.

“To you, my last dream,” he whispered to the vast newborn heavens.

“I shall return… very soon.”

Light rippled. Space quivered. Time held its heartbeat.

Then— Whoosh.

He vanished like a comet breaking into dust, scattering brilliance in all directions. His divine aura faded into nebula mist, wrapping galaxies in gentle luminescence.

Where he once stood, only starlight remained—soft, eternal, and silent.

The universe, newly awakened and full of infinite promise, stood alone once more.

But now, it was no longer empty.

***

Each planet developed unique life, including creatures that lived in the deepest abysses and other beings that thrived in the abnormal climates of other planets.

Celestial creatures had incredible abilities and resilience, with a wide range of forms and attitudes. Some were hawking across the infinite vastness!

Some flew like an Aquila, a squeaking thunderbird glide freely like a Peregrine. A lightning whoop between multiverse!

“Squeak!” Aquila chirped. “I will be the eyes of the universe.”

Some floated, others crawled like the Draco’s expansion stretched incredibly. Breathing a calamitous haze like a volcano’s smoke. “Grr!”

A beautiful swims of the aquatic creature, like the Cetus, its monstrosity peering different oceanic creatures seemed like a serene flow of infinite galaxies. “Gloob!” Cetus breathed underwater. “I will be the keeper of the ocean across the Universe.”

***

Over countless eons, some celestial genes evolved dramatically. Higher celestial creatures ascended with incredible power and strength, becoming god-like beings whose presence was woven into the fabric of the universe.

Many of these ascended beings showcased their immense power, striving to dominate the universe.

But then, Draco rose to prominence, a cosmic conqueror who colonized planets and stars, asserting his absolute rule. Willfully observing the weak spot of the universe.

“We have no gods,” Draco thundered, his voice shaking the fabric of the void. “We forged laws to govern existence with our own hands. We born as guardians from the very start of creation, we rules like a god. Therefore, I—Draco, the Absolute—am rightful heir to the Throne of Constellar. I alone possess the will and the might to shape the cosmos as I see fit.”

Shock rippled through the assembly of celestial beings. Stars dimmed. Nebulae trembled.

“Kneel!” His subordinate shouted to the trembling celestial beings, every creature began to lowered their head and bend their knees. But the rightful Guardians stood from a distant listening to him with infuriated mode, their celestial expression was obviously angered, hatred, and disgust.

“I am worthy to be the Constellar King!” Draco roared, his voice rising like a cosmic eruption, reverberating across galaxies. “Hear me, all of you celestial born. The truth….”

His glare swept across eternity, fierce and unwavering.

“We are forsaken by our Creator. Waiting for Him is nothing but a dream—a delusion! That era ends now.”

His power surged, bending constellations into submission.

“Even if creator Genesis returns—or does not—it matters not. Fate already speaks. And it proclaims me as the destined Constellar King.”

But his declaration did not go unanswered.

The cosmos stirred… a gentle tremor, yet profound as creation’s first breath. From the stillness emerged Crux, a figure radiant in serene authority, starlight woven into his form. He was balance incarnate, harmony given shape, the still axis around which reality turned.

Where Draco blazed like a raging star, Crux shone like the dawn—calm, vast, unshakable.

“Draco,” Crux spoke, voice gentle yet immovable, like gravity given sound. “Your heart festers with hatred… with hunger for power and adoration. Look within. Remember who you were… and where you came from.”

A soft brilliance radiated from him, purifying, peaceful—unwavering.

“Come,” Crux extended a hand of light, “walk with me, and be cleansed. Let the darkness fall away.”

Draco’s laughter cracked across the cosmos, jagged as lightning splitting stars. “My Lord, Crux mean, you need a purification. That’s an insult to your supreme!” Triangulum said at his side.

“Purify?” His voice dripped disdain, then he looked forward to Crux. “You speak as though I am blinded by delusion. But I have seen truth with unshackled eyes.”

His wings spread, molten constellations dripping from their edges.

“We are gods, Crux. Born to rise above creation—not cower beneath it. We kneel to nothing.”

Crux’s white eyes dimmed with sorrow rather than anger, as though mourning a star already lost.

“We are Celestial Guardians. Not tyrants. Not usurpers.”

He raised his staff—light forming calm halos around him.

“Our power was not given to dominate… but to preserve the fragile harmony of existence.”

Then, his voice cut sharp and ringing:

“Draco, you are not worthy to claim the Constellar Throne.”

Draco’s grin stretched—feral, burning.

“And who then? You?”

His scales ignited, glowing like smoldering embers forged in a dying star’s heart. Space warped around him as gravity bowed. His tail coiled around drifting planets, dragging them into orbit like toys, spinning them lazily in his grasp.

Planets cracked beneath his claws. Moons trembled in orbit.

“I am the flame that will burn weakness from existence,” Draco growled, stepping forward, each step rippling through the void. “And no shepherd of light will chain me again.”

Nebulae scattered as his aura roared like a collapsing sun—wild, wrathful, unstoppable.

“I exist without the need for pretenders like you—those who erase memories, twist emotions, and rewrite minds. You call it purification; I call it deceit. You make beings forget their pain and call it peace.”

“Do not,” Crux warned, his radiance tightening like a shield around him, “allow darkness to feast upon your essence. You were not birthed from starlight to dominate, but to defend. We were made to shield the fragile… not shackle them.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, molten and merciless. His smirk slithered back across his scaled face—razor-sharp, laced with malice.

“Defend?” he echoed, the word twisting like a serpent in his mouth. “The weak cling to life by our mercy alone. Perhaps it is time they learned whom they exist to serve.”

Power throbbed around him like the heartbeat of a newborn star. The constellations quivered. Galaxies dimmed as though holding their breath.

And then—

The heavens shattered with a silent scream.

Two pillars of divinity split the cosmos:

Crux, guardian of balance—pure luminance, discipline, and eternal duty.

Draco, serpent-king of ambition—fire forged from rebellion, crowned in defiance.

Where once there was unity, now lay the rift of war.

Thus dawned the Fang Epoch—the Age of Severed Constellations.

Constellar Guardians, sworn to preserve stars and life, rose like burning comets. They watched the cradle of worlds, guided fate across nebulae, and bound chaos beneath cosmic law. Under Crux’s solemn banner, they became the luminous shield of creation—unwavering, eternal.

But Draco…

His hunger was a collapsing black star—insatiable, merciless. From the void he gathered those who rejected peace, who sought dominion and devastation:

Triangulum, who commanded undead creatures from a dead planets and stars.

Hydra, a serpent of endless heads, birthing calamity with each breath.

Centaur, the war scholar, who forged weapons from dying suns.

Phoenix, flame reborn in endless destruction.

Corvus, the shadow-winged thief of hope.

Cetus, the devourer of seas and stars, whose hunger rivaled Draco’s own.

Together they carved tyranny through constellations, crushing galaxies beneath claw and flame, bending countless celestial beings into dread obedience.

And the heavens bled.

Between Draco and Crux, war became unending—light and shadow in perpetual collision, scattering universes like sparks from a divine forge.

Worlds rose. Worlds burned. Nebulae bloomed with new life, only to be torn asunder by wrath.

A thousand cosmic ages passed, yet neither force yielded.

Thus the eternal conflict raged—Not for land, not for crown alone… But for the destiny of creation itself.

The wars between Draco and the Crux raged endlessly, an ongoing cosmic conflict.

Frustrated by the unyielding resistance that prevented his colonization, Draco grew desperate.

The Crux and their allies were steadfast guardians of the weak, protecting planets and stars—and the sacred seeds that was implanted on each planets and stars, it became the sources of all life.

Draco realized that the Crux valued these celestial seeds more than inhabitants, these seeds were the life-sustaining like a wellsprings.

In his fury, Draco committed the ultimate sin: stealing the very seeds the Crux protected, which were the source of their endless opposition.

So he commanded his most cunning subordinate.

“Triangulum,” he thundered, “use the implanted seeds. Forge me a weapon that will end this eternal balance. Something the Light cannot endure.”

And so, Triangulum obeyed. Deep within the laboratories of void and flame, he cultivated the seeds of corruption.

But the experiment—was a disaster.

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