Dancing on the golden ashes

I watched it all fall before my eyes. First, the core began to tremble violently, its deep, guttural shudder echoing through the very foundation of the world. I could feel its pain—the agony of the earth as it screamed its last breath. The air around me grew thick, saturated with the fear of every single soul that had ever inhabited this planet. It was suffocating, and overwhelming, as a strong sense of dread washed over everything and everyone.

How could I even explain it? Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say that the very smell of certain death filled the air, thick and acrid, lingering like a shadow that clung to every breath. And I was not exempt. Even I could feel it, that gnawing certainty—I would die. There was no way I wouldn't. The explosion that would tear this world apart didn't discriminate, not even for someone like me. After all, this was no ordinary destruction. This would obliterate everything. Even those at the level of immortals—those with the power to ravage fragile planets—didn't have the endurance to survive what was coming.

Power alone could destroy. But to withstand the aftermath, to endure the chaos, that was something else entirely. And in that moment, I understood that no one would be left standing after the storm passed.

"This world is a prison, and I'm simply breaking out," I whispered to myself, my voice steady and cold as the weight of my words settled into the air. No more Gaon who failed at every task, the woman who was lost, who was nothing more than a puppet tangled in the strings of others. Now, only the Gaon who destroys remains—the Gaon who takes what is hers, who claims her destiny without hesitation or mercy.

"I shall never be shackled," I continued, my tone unwavering, my resolve firm. "I shall forever be free. And I shall lead my demons to glory."

The world trembled beneath me as I spoke, but I was beyond it. Beyond any remnants of the past that tried to hold me down. It had no more claim on me.

"So rest in peace, world," I said, the words almost a mockery now. "Rest in peace, that which was meant to never end. And yet, I am the one who is putting an end to the World of No End… And to the suffering of Agnia and her people."

The powerful tremor surged through the world, and I welcomed it, feeling the pulse of the planet's last breath course through me. Yet, I had no intention of dying—not yet. My skill had worked a little too well, and as long as I was in the right place before the explosion could consume me, I would survive. I had planned for this, after all.

With lightning speed, I stepped into the rift I had created with a simple flick of my wrist. The world around me bent and twisted as I passed through it, and in the blink of an eye, I was gone, transported far away from the dying planet.

No wonder, I thought. The place where I had once flown to the planet from that beast world wasn't just right outside the world—it made sense. After all, planets rotated around their suns, and I was now at least 40,000,000 kilometers away from the planet. Still, I knew exactly where it was. I could feel it, as if the planet itself were a part of me. With my wings—the same wings that had carried me through the cosmos like a blur of golden light—I surged forward.

I traveled at the speed of light, my form a streak in the vast emptiness, and in little more than two minutes, I arrived. The distance was nothing; the universe bent to my will. I stood next to my demons, who waited for me in the void. And I looked back, watching as the planet I had just left began to boil and turn into a massive ball of crimson, glowing with the heat of its impending death.

There were no more living beings left there. Or if there were, they would have to endure the most unbearable heat, the scorching winds that would tear them apart. The world, the very foundation of everything, would be reduced to ash.

And then, the most beautiful sight met my eyes once again.

First, there was a blinding flash, a burst of light so bright it seemed to tear the very fabric of space apart. It pulsed outward, a shockwave of energy radiating from the core, consuming everything in its path. The ground cracked wide open, molten rivers of fire spilling from the depths, but it was nothing compared to what came next.

The planet seemed to twist in on itself, as if its very structure was unraveling. The core, once the beating heart of the world, ruptured in a cataclysmic explosion of color and light. Multicolored energy surged outward in every direction, ripping through the atmosphere like a hundred suns being born at once. It wasn't just fire—it was pure energy, raw and untamed, a storm of cosmic radiance that tore the air apart, sending tendrils of light and heat spiraling into space. The force of it was overwhelming, and for a split second, the universe itself seemed to hold its breath.

And then, the planet exploded.

The explosion wasn't a simple burst; it was an annihilation. The very core of the world disintegrated, sending cosmic dust scattering across the void. The remnants of the planet were torn apart in an instant, chunks of rock and debris breaking free, propelled into space at unimaginable speeds. The explosion sent waves of energy so powerful they distorted the fabric of space itself. It was as if the planet had become a dying star, its energy consumed by its own death.

The air vibrated with the intensity of the blast. A shockwave rippled outward, the force of it so strong that it sent ripples through the very atmosphere of the surrounding space, pushing everything away in an all-consuming surge. The heat radiated out in waves, a scorching inferno that could have turned anything nearby to ash, though there was nothing but emptiness to witness it.

We watched as the world exploded, its remnants scattering into the void. Even the one who tried to protect it would bear witness.

I turned my head to the left, feeling his presence before I saw him. Jeong Suhan. His eyes were locked on the destruction, his body trembling with rage, fury at his failure to protect the world his master had entrusted to him.

If I had a heart, I know I'd feel good about it.

Would I feel sadness for the world? Perhaps. I wasn't sure anymore. Right now, I was simply waiting for him to look back at me—to meet my eyes with those familiar emotions of despair and hatred. To let me feed on them, to consume every ounce of that sorrow and fury that churned in him. It was the only thing left I could use to feel something—something I could never truly recover again.

I waited. I waited for him to turn and give me what I needed. And when he did, when those eyes locked onto mine, I would take every last shred of what he had left to give.