Azalea watched as the gods below fled like ants, giant waves of titans rushing towards them. To her, they looked no different from mortals running from a beast tide, but at the same time, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any sympathy for them at all. Even though gods looked like humans, that didn’t mean they were human. Beasts could cultivate human appearances, and even devils could wear human faces; however, they were fundamentally different from humans in the end. Since that was the case, why should she feel any sympathy when the gods were being slaughtered? In fact, she should be gloating. Whenever a god died, rainbow-colored mist rose out of them, and that mist could be passed on to her fellow sect members, raising them to godhood. A tragedy for gods, but a blessing for humanity; even though Azalea was a god now, she still viewed herself as a human first and foremost.

Vremya and Grandpa Vremya stood side by side—one naked, one dressed—in the air, watching the slaughter happening in the forging district. When a titan got too close, they would freeze as if they were in a video that someone had paused. Then, a black hole would devour them, only leaving a little bit behind, which would soon be squeezed dry and eaten by the phoegons. There were some pockets of light remaining, resisting as the gods capable of fighting fought back against the endless wave of titans. Pravos couldn’t help but frown upon seeing them, but what was she supposed to do? The four gods she had been grouped with were complete psychopaths. The stinky black dog was even licking her lips in anticipation and cheering whenever a god was devoured.

After watching for a bit, Azalea turned her head. “What’ll happen if the godly society falls apart?”

“It won’t,” Grandpa Vremya said. “Theoretically, however, if the godly society collapsed, then the titans would devour everything. There’d be nothing remaining except for titans. Eventually, the titans would consume each other until there’s only one of them left. After its death, its body will corrode and collapse, perhaps leading to the birth of new life that’ll steadily decline as well until there’s nothing but emptiness.”

Azalea raised an eyebrow. “And you know the godly society won’t fall apart because…?”

“Because I’m here,” Grandpa Vremya said.

Azalea stared down at the destruction. Then, she stared at Grandpa Vremya, the self-proclaimed reason why there’d be no destruction. “Then how do you explain that?” she asked, pointing at the resisting gods. “If you’re here, shouldn’t they not be in that situation?”

Vremya snorted. “There is a balance between the light and the dark, the gods and the titans. The balance cannot be broken no matter how hard one tries. When a god dies, new gods will rise up to replace them. When a titan dies, another is born. For the past few eons, the gods have been consistently pushing the titans back. Like the tide ebbs and flows, there’ll be a time for the gods to be pushed back as well.”

“You can stop them though,” Pravos said, pursing her lips.

“But why would I do that?” Vremya asked. “I might not be the god of history, but I’ve lived through all of it. The current godly society is equivalent to a declining empire. After years of prosperity, they’ve forgotten the terror of the dangers lurking outside of their borders. It’s about time for some new blood to become gods.” A sneer appeared on Vremya’s lips. “Look at that god over there.” He pointed at a god fleeing for his life. “With his agility, he’d be able to slaughter titans continuously. As long as he doesn’t make a mistake, he could survive and kill titans indefinitely, yet he’s running away. Do you think he’s worthy of his divinity? If someone like Rachel had his power, do you think she’d run?”

Pravos’ brow furrowed. Her gaze lingered on all the gods below, and she couldn’t help but compare the gods to the mortals she saw living in Vremya’s bellybutton. The respectable mortals, the ones that nearly reached godhood, all of them were valiant characters. They wouldn’t back down in the face of death. They certainly wouldn’t make the choice to flee like the god Vremya had pointed out. If she compared that god to her apostle…. Pravos shook her head. Rachel’s will was more tenacious than a rock’s. When she decided to do something, there was nothing that could stop her from changing her mind. It wasn’t fair to compare Rachel with any god. Pravos bit her lower lip. Perhaps Vremya had a point. The previous godly society had dumped all the defenses onto Gravitat. Wasn’t that a bit unfair to the god of gravity? The titans were a threat to the whole of godly society, so why should one god bear the responsibility for everyone?

A desolate scream pulled Pravos out of her thoughts. Another god had been torn apart by the titans. Grandpa Vremya summoned a gold disk above his palm, and the rainbow-colored mist that had poured out of the dead god rushed towards the current god of gravity. Grandpa Vremya bottled the mist and stowed it away. “The divinity of metalworking,” he said, showing the bottle to Azalea, who was looking on with a curious expression. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for it.”

“You can give it to your users,” Karta said. A strange expression appeared on her face as she glanced at Vremya. “Speaking of which, you haven’t checked on your users in a while.”

Vremya shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Pravos said they already achieved immortality the last time the fast-time world was open. A year has passed since then, so what could’ve changed?”

“If you say so,” Karta said, sounding a bit unconvinced.

***

In front of the gates of a massive school, a crowd was assembling. Howard, a scrawny teenager, stood amongst the mass of people with his hand clutching the hilt of his sword which was hanging from the belt on his waist. He was here to take the entrance exam to the Academy of Immortals. Although he wasn’t completely confident in himself, he knew he had to succeed. If he didn’t, then where could he possibly go? As the fourth son of a lowly noble, his inheritance would be pitifully small, and if he couldn’t make something of himself, then he was doomed to live an average life.

Time passed. Eventually, the massive gates to the school swung open, revealing a lush courtyard. A booming voice rang through the air. “Those of you capable of stepping through the school’s front door before the sun sets shall be welcomed as new members of the incoming class. Those of you who fail won’t be given a second chance. The examination starts now!”

Howard swallowed and rushed forward with the crowd. It was said the Academy of Immortals had been founded by the four pillars billions of years ago. The fact that the academy could last so long was a testament to the strength of the four pillars. As Howard rushed through the gates and into the courtyard, statues of the four pillars came into view. The first statue depicted an average-looking fellow, completely unremarkable. The second depicted a woman who was beautiful enough to topple countries with her looks alone. The third statue depicted a valiant man who looked as if he had been on the battlefield for a long time. The last statue showed a man holding a rake, the farming implement propped up against his shoulder. They were the four pillars, the strongest immortals in the world, but they didn’t look too impressive. However, there wasn’t any disdain in Howard’s heart. After all, the blood of the four pillars ran through his body. As their descendent, how could he look down on his ancestors?