The Bloodline System Chapter 1681: The Deities Will Never Return

A heavy silence descended where a roaring universe once existed.

This was no tranquil stillness of a quiet evening; it was a hollow, cosmic void born from total annihilation. The surrounding expanse had become nothing more than a boundless graveyard.

Fragments of molten debris drifted where worlds once thrived. Stars collapsed into hemorrhaging singularities, while the skeletal remains of nebulae dissipated like fading smoke.

Space was fractured, weeping prismatic light from wounds that seemed impossible to heal.

In the midst of this devastation, a single star blinked into existence. With a weary motion of his hand, Gustav had summoned the hidden pocket-star sanctuary.

As it fully manifested, its protective exterior slid open, allowing the refugees to emerge.

The group was a mixture of humanoids, insectoids, crystalline entities, scaled beings, and energy-based lifeforms; children held onto their parents' limbs while elders leaned on companions for support. More than a hundred survivors stood there, having escaped only because Endric, E.E., and the others had put their lives on the line to save them.

The refugees fell into a hush the moment they saw Gustav standing there, his body still radiating the heat of leftover energy from that impossible conflict.

The battle was over.

He had succeeded.

No words were required for them to grasp that truth.

However, when they turned to witness the state of the universe, their brief moment of relief turned into paralyzed horror.

A mother with red skin shielded her child's eyes from the sight.

A serpentine elder let out a low hiss: "All... gone... the cosmos is gone..."

The light within a crystalline being’s facets began to dim like dying stars.

Others simply collapsed to their knees, struck dumb by the devastation.

Reality around them resembled a shattered mirror.

Enormous spatial rifts carved through the galaxy like floating scars. Debris spiraled into ghostly rings around newly formed micro-black holes. Entire planetary systems had been folded like cosmic origami—crushed, torn apart, or wiped out completely.

There was no day, no night, and no horizon. Only ruin remained.

Yet, despite the overwhelming despair, Gustav’s companions gathered around him with looks of profound relief. E.E., Aildris, Falco, Elevora, Sersi, Ria, Xanatus, and Endric formed a quiet circle. They were only alive because Gustav had encased them in a protective cocoon of Outworldly force.

Gustav sat upon a massive shard of a broken moon, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared blankly into the cosmic abyss. His aura had settled, no longer swirling with pinkish-red chaos. However, a new light shone in his eyes—something ancient, deep, and nearly impossible to comprehend.

Endric stepped forward.

"Gus..." his voice shook, not out of terror, but from the weight of everything he had carried for what felt like eons. "Angy... she was the one who planned it. Everything that led to your return."

The others nodded in solemn agreement.

"She never gave up," E.E. added in a soft tone. "She simply refused to let you stay dead. Without her... none of us would be standing here."

Gustav released a heavy breath that echoed through the hollow cosmos.

"...I know."

The group blinked in surprise, and Endric looked visibly confused.

Slowly lifting his chin, Gustav gazed into the emptiness.

"I am aware of everything that transpired while I was gone," he whispered. "Every sacrifice made. Every tear shed. Every conflict. Every second she clung to hope."

A faint, melancholy smile touched his lips.

"I witnessed it all upon my return... like lingering echoes."

He turned his gaze toward the refugees and his friends. "I know the extent of everyone's loss."

Every soul present, whether human or alien, fell silent.

He continued.

"Families. Homeworlds. Entire species. Ancient histories. All erased."

His fingers tightened slightly. "Because the deities chose to embrace madness."

Silence followed his words.

Some refugees bowed their heads while others trembled. A child asked in a fragile voice, "Can we ever go back home...?"

The question cut through everyone like a blade. Given the total destruction, they knew the truth, but how could they possibly explain it to a child?

For nearly a minute, silence reigned until Gustav stood up.

"Do not worry..." he spoke softly.

Flickers of golden energy began to dance across his skin.

"...I was simply resting for a moment."

Everyone watched him, wide-eyed.

"I shall rebuild it all," he whispered. "And I will bring it back."

E.E.’s jaw dropped in shock.

Sersi gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

Falco took a stumbling step backward.

Aildris managed to whisper, "You... you can actually do that?"

Tears welled in Elevora's eyes.

A few refugees broke into sobs of newfound hope.

Gustav stepped forward, the glow in his eyes intensifying.

"The deities will never return..."

His voice resonated like a divine decree across the fabric of time.

"But everything else shall."

He lifted his hand.

The golden radiance grew blinding, and the space above his palm began to warp.

Reality itself twisted.

Then... a colossal, ethereal hourglass appeared in the sky. It dwarfed planets, its frame constructed from starlight and ancient divine script.

Its interior was filled with shimmering, cosmic sand.

The crowd watched, breathless.

Gustav uttered a single command:

"Return."

The hourglass began a slow rotation, flipping until it was upside down.

The universe stood perfectly still.

Then, everything shifted.

A powerful tremor surged through reality and across the ruined dark as the hourglass released a flood of shimmering golden threads. They surged outward in every direction like rivers of time itself.

The threads twisted, branched out, and began to rewrite existence.

Planets re-emerged in bursts of brilliant radiance... forming, stitching together, and reshaping themselves.

Shattered worlds were reassembled piece by piece, from their cores to their surfaces. Cities flickered back to life. Rivers began to flow once more. Mountains rose from the dust. Forests grew in the blink of an eye, oceans reclaimed the void, and skies were repainted with layers of atmosphere.

In distant stars, nuclear fusion sparked back to life like engines being restarted.

Entire galaxies were rewoven like fabric being unspooled and stitched back together.

One by one, constellations returned to the sky. Nebulae bloomed like flowers in bloom. The cosmic background was healed, and spatial rifts were sealed. The laws of physics stabilized, smoothing out the scars of the war.

Life followed the restoration.

Billions of living sparks—souls, memories, and genetic blueprints—flowed along the golden threads toward their rightful places.

Entire species were blinked back into being.

Civilizations resumed their activities mid-motion, as if waking from a brief dream.

Families were reunited, never even knowing they had perished.

Every being was restored.

Every world was brought back.

Everything...

Except for the deities.

Their essence had been permanently wiped out, their very existence consumed by the Outworldly.

But the universe itself... it lived once more.

As the restoration cycle of the hourglass concluded, the final grain of cosmic sand fell, and the artifact dissolved into a cloud of golden vapor.

The wave of energy receded.

Silence returned.

But it was not the empty silence of before.

This time, it was the silence of a universe that was breathing again.

Gustav exhaled and lowered his hand.

His knees nearly gave way from the sheer effort of his feat.

Aildris reached out to steady his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"