An orb of blue light shimmered in front of Gaius, giving off extreme fluctuations of power. Even without touching it, he could feel an incredible weight emanating out of it — it was the weight of an entire world. Of people. Of their myriad emotions and countless thoughts.

Of life itself.

For a moment, Gaius hesitated.

“Feeling nervous?” Oculus asked.

“Dumbass,” Nexus replied. “Gaius is obviously nervous. You said it yourself, after all. The moment he triggers the creation process, he’ll become a true pivot of destiny. The lives of Orb and Cybral will never be the same again. People would resist change and take up arms. He would have to kill.”

“Yes.” Gaius closed his eyes. “It’s easy to do the right thing. It’s even easier to do the wrong one. The only hard thing is stepping into the unknown. Me telling myself that I’ll win in the end, no matter what happens, is just…maybe I’m just a coward.”

Even in the Wildlands, when he acted personally, there was nothing he could do to stop the allied troops of the Five Lands from killing each other. Likewise, there was nothing he could do about the historical animosities, as well as the near-total genocide of the beastfolk. Had the Demon Sovereign not stepped in, the demons would have been eradicated too.

Objectively speaking, Gaius had failed to protect anything beyond his family. He couldn’t stop the world from its slow descent into chaos. Nor could he do anything about the intensifying rifts between the nations.

“Funny, really,” Gaius muttered. “At which point did I start caring about the world? Or was I actually worried about the future of Nakama and La-Ti? I think it’s the latter. For the sake of a good future for them both, I intend to upend the entire world…two worlds, in fact.”

Another presence appeared to his right.

“Senior,” Gaius looked at the newcomer, the Chanter of Innocents. “Are you going to stop me?”

“Me?” Weiwu’s voice echoed in his head. “No. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the ability to. I’m just here to wish you the best of luck in your final gamble.”

Gaius shivered at the finality in the great god’s words, and then examined the Chanter of Innocents closely. Weiwu’s form, which was already blurring around the edges long ago, was actually on the verge of crumbling apart. The divinity within the great god was drying up; barely more than a fistful, if his senses weren’t lying to him.

“Not much time left.”

“All things die. Even in this plan of yours, this gift of an unchanging eternity you intend to present…it will come to an end eventually,” Weiwu replied. “Do not mourn my passing. Witness it, and understand what life truly is.”

Gaius was silent. The great god had done so many things, but there was little he could do to repay Weiwu. The Chanter of Innocents had lived a life dedicated to an eternal vigil, but none save for Gaius and the others would ever know about this unfair sacrifice.

It was in no way an enviable life.

And soon, even such a life would end. The world would never know about his passing, nor the deeds of the great god.

“You…” Gaius felt his eyes sting, but there weren’t any tears he could shed. “Why? Of all times? You should have told me earlier. My expedition to the Great Divide was meaningless. If you told me earlier, I could have taken your place! You could have at least enjoyed the last moments of your life, not use it to stand guard over this worthless world!”

“It was necessary,” Weiwu replied. “And truth be told, I enjoyed my time with you and La-Ti. It was never worthless, my time with you and him. By extension, my time guarding the Abyss can therefore never be worthless.”

“La-Ti is still waiting for his Grandpa Weiwu,” Gaius forced out. “For another round of checkers.”

Weiwu shook slightly, before his translucent frame relaxed. “I know. But all that pales in comparison to this grand undertaking of yours. My children — the children of the true Orb — will learn what it is like to truly live. You are carrying out my life’s greatest desire, its highest purpose. I believe La-Ti will understand.”

“That’s a stupid reason,” Gaius replied.

“And so is yours,” Weiwu replied. “But I believe in it. Therefore, I am here to help you.”

“Help me? Help me how?”

“The Abyss. You are going to subsume it, no? You need troops. You need to be an enemy to the world. Therefore, you’ll need to take in the Abyss, where terrifying monsters would be at your command.”

Nodding with a jerk, Gaius reined in his sorrow. “Was it that obvious?”

“You have a spiritual guide from the Crying Abyss…or rather, the inheritance of Orb’s original gods. It wasn’t hard to guess what your plans were.” Weiwu chuckled, as his right arm began to fade out of existence.

“My plans?” Gaius took a deep breath. “What do you know of them?”

Weiwu smiled. “You intend to commence a festival of creation, with the Abyss as both source and protector. If your grand undertaking succeeds, the Abyss will be destroyed, and your desired world will be formed. If you fail, you would have unified the Five Lands against the most terrifying foe they have ever met. The Crying Abyss would be destroyed with you. Whatever remains would be a utopia of sorts, thereby accomplishing your desire.”

“A simple plan,” Oculus chimed in, “but it’s a perfect one. No matter what happens, Gaius will succeed.”

“Yes. Exactly. But such a plan would have you pay the dearest of prices, no? Eternal solitude from up high, or as a monster vilified.” Weiwu sighed. “I didn’t intend on passing down that particular torch, but it seems destiny has gone mad.”

“No,” Gaius replied. “It’s the world that has gone insane.”

“Maybe.” The great god looked down at his flickering form, which was crumbling away into motes of light. “This is it, eh? At the close of my life, I find myself wondering if I did a good job. Say, Gaius. Did I do a good job?”

“Yes. You did.” Gaius swallowed a lump in his throat, and his voice cracked. “Go in peace.”

Weiwu smiled gently, and with a small spark, his flickering body came apart in a cloud of starlight. Wood clattered as a small sculpture, one in the semblance of the Chanter of Innocents, fell onto the cavern floor.

“Abyss Sovereign Gaius. May you find peace in your choice. And may your dreams come true.” Weiwu’s last words hung in the air for a moment, before dispersing forever.

Gaius observed the starlight in silence as it settled around his skin, watching as the last bits of the great god vanished into an eternal darkness. Kneeling down, he picked up the wooden sculpture, before placing it in a pocket.

He took a deep breath and wiped away the tears to his eternal benefactor. “Let’s start this festival of creation.”