Chapter Text
The resting place of the Supreme God did not exist on any map.
Not because it was hidden, but because it was excluded.
Excluded from causality, from divine jurisdiction, from even the concept of place. The heavens curved around it like rivers around stones too ancient to erode. Time itself seemed hesitant in its presence.
Only one being still remembered how to reach it.
Kanos.
———
“You’re sure?” Elrien asked for the third time, his voice low but tense.
Kanos nodded, his expression unusually serious. “He gave me the key himself. Before he went to sleep.”
El stood beside them, arms crossed, his usual lightheartedness muted. “And you never told anyone.”
“There was no reason,” Kanos replied. “He said the world needed time. Freedom. A chance to grow without constant correction.”
“And now?” El’s voice was quieter, almost fragile.
Kanos looked away, eyes distant. “And now… the price of that freedom has landed on me. That’s fine. I’m tired.”
He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.
———
The path refused to open willingly.
Reality itself resisted, subtly, insidiously. Spatial anchors shifted. Divine perception dulled. Even Elrien, whose authority once commanded punishment itself, found his senses delayed by fractions of a second.
Not attacks. Obstructions.
“The world doesn’t want Him awake,” Elrien muttered.
El nodded. “Because if He wakes, everything that happened in His absence gets reviewed. Compromises. Shortcuts. You.”
The key—an unassuming fragment of light embedded in Kanos’s soul—burned hotter with every step forward. Not pain. Pressure. The universe itself asking, Are you sure?
Kanos did not answer. He simply walked forward.
———
When they arrived, sound ceased.
Not silence—absence.
They stood in vast nothingness, permeated by a presence so complete that all other divinity seemed small by comparison.
At the center, a figure rested. Not imposing. Not radiant. Simply… there.
The Supreme God opened His eyes.
“Kanos,” He said warmly. “I wondered when you’d come.”
———
His gaze fell on Kanos—not accusing, not alarmed—just… attentive.
“You’re hurt,” He said.
Kanos forced a faint smile. “It happens.”
“You’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“It’ll pass.”
The Supreme God tilted His head, then looked to Elrien. “You. Tell me what happened.”
Kanos opened his mouth. Closed it.
Elrien inhaled. And spoke.
He told everything: the awakening of the Evil God, the impossibility of purification without the Supreme God, the ritual, the decision.
“Kanos chose to take the sin,” Elrien said steadily. “To end it permanently. Knowing the cost.”
The Supreme God returned His gaze to Kanos. “And why?”
Kanos could not lie here. Truth was unavoidable.
He broke.
“I was tired,” Kanos whispered. His voice trembled.
“I lost my angels. They were slaughtered. I outlived them. I watched them fear me as my power grew. I was always too much. Too dangerous. Too wrong.”
Tears welled, spilling freely.
“I joked. I played the villain. Pretended it didn’t matter… maybe it would hurt less. But it did. I was lonely. I am lonely.” His hands clenched in his robes. “I couldn’t bear losing anything else. So… if taking the sin meant it would stop, I didn’t hesitate.”
He shattered completely.
The Supreme God stood, crossed the distance, and embraced him.
No judgment. No words. Just arms, patient and steady, hands stroking his back slowly.
Kanos wept.
Elrien felt a sharp, unfamiliar ache, the urge to hug his friend. He froze, unused to such instinct.
El watched silently, stunned. He had always known Kanos was ancient—but he had never realized how heavy that age was. How deep the loneliness buried beneath the jokes, the pranks, the mask of irreverence.
“You endured because you believed no one would catch you if you fell,” the Supreme God said softly.
“You saw yourself as expandable, an existence nobody would miss.”
He glanced at Elrien and El. “But they came anyway.”
Kanos’s sobs slowed.
“They worried. They care. You are not as alone as you think.”
Kanos inhaled shakily. “…I know that now.”
———
“I can purify your soul,” the Supreme God said. “Erase the sins. Restore your divinity. Restore your body.”
He smiled faintly. “Leaving you as… you are now would be far too dangerous. Someone with your power and personality shouldn’t look this… cute.”
Kanos huffed weakly through tears.
“There will be pain,” the Supreme God continued. “Exhaustion. You’ll need weeks of rest.”
“That’s fine,” Kanos said hoarsely.
———
Kanos lay on the bed.
The Supreme God raised His hands. Iridescent strings emerged, weaving ritual circles of impossible complexity.
Pain hit immediately. Kanos screamed. Continuous. Raw. Long hours of it.
He did not lose consciousness. He did not lose himself.
El collapsed against Elrien, sobbing, unable to look away. Elrien held him, jaw tight, eyes burning.
Finally—silence.
The figure on the bed was no longer Noel.
Tall. Fair. Black-haired. Only a few green strands remained—a memory of the elf that once existed.
The Supreme God stepped back.
El was instantly there, hugging Kanos as he laughed weakly in relief.