Aaron walked closer.
The rounded disc was about the size of his palm and less than a finger thick.
Its material resembled some kind of metal, but its surface sheen was nothing like metal.
It was constantly changing—one moment like flowing ink, the next like a frozen starry sky, with countless tiny bright spots moving across a black background like a miniature Milky Way.
“So this is what my parents sealed…”
Aaron stopped before the stone pedestal and looked down at the disc.
He could feel it.
Not through his eyes or ears, but through the Creator Godhead in his chest.
The Godhead was vibrating.
Ever since he stepped into this stone chamber, the crystal that had been resting quietly in the depths of his soul had begun to tremble faintly, rising in frequency and amplitude.
It was a strange feeling.
Not pain, nor discomfort.
It felt more like…
a response.
Like walking in the dark for a long time and suddenly hearing a call from a fellow kind in the distance.
His body was instinctively drawing close, longing, and responding.
Resonance.
Aaron reached out toward the disc.
When his fingertips were about ten centimeters away from its surface, the disc moved.
The tiny moving spots of light on its surface suddenly ceased all movement.
Then, they began to gather toward the center of the disc, merging one by one into the middle to form an increasingly bright light core.
Within seconds, the brightness of the core surpassed Griphook’s goblin lantern.
And then, it exploded.
Not outward, but inward.
All the light collapsed simultaneously into a pinprick-sized point, the sheer brightness of which filled the entire stone chamber with white light.
Then, from that point, a beam of light shot straight out.
The beam shot directly into Aaron’s forehead between his brows.
At the same moment, the Creator Godhead in his chest flared with scorching heat.
It was no longer a gentle vibration.
It was a burning pain.
Like a red-hot iron thrust into his soul.
Aaron’s body froze.
Outside the door, Griphook heard a low humming sound coming from the stone chamber.
The ground vibrated faintly, and tiny cracks appeared on the stone steps beneath his feet.
“Mr. Klein!” Griphook shouted while clinging to the wall at the corner, but he didn’t dare run over.
The light was not blinding.
Yet the moment Griphook saw it, his legs felt as heavy as lead.
It wasn’t out of fear, but something far more primal telling him: *Do not approach.*
That was a light mortals were not meant to touch.
The instant the light beam pierced his forehead, Aaron’s consciousness was forcibly pulled into the Divine Kingdom.
When he opened his eyes, his first reaction was: *The sky is falling.*
It was no metaphor.
The sky of the Divine Kingdom was cracking apart.
Across the pale blue dome covering this five-hundred-meter space, several massive fissures appeared.
Intertwined black and white chaotic energy rolled inside the cracks, as if something was violently tearing open a passage from the outside world.
The ground quaked violently.
Water from the pond sloshed over the banks, splashing onto a group of beetles curled up and shivering in their nest nearby.
Patches of moss peeled off the hills, and several dwarf trees toppled over.
The insects halted all activity.
Over three hundred ants, beetles, centipedes, and crickets lay motionless in their respective positions, their six legs gripping the ground tightly and their antennae trembling wildly.
The Demiguise rolled down from the top of the hill, its silver-white hair puffed up into a frantic ball, its blue eyes wide, holding tightly onto a boulder and refusing to let go.
The Horned Snake, Naga, was coiled atop a large rock near the pond, its body taut as a bow, the horn-like protrusion on its head flashing violently, its golden slit pupils staring fixedly at the cracks in the sky.
“Lord… sky… breaking…” Naga’s snake tongue hissed with unprecedented panic.
Aaron looked up at the cracking dome.
He knew what was happening.
That disc—or rather, a certain energy carried within the disc—was clashing violently with the Creator Godhead inside him.
Two powers from the same source, yet not entirely matched, were rubbing intensely in the depths of his soul, and the overflowing energy fluctuations were directly impacting the structure of the Divine Kingdom space.
If left unchecked, the entire Divine Kingdom would completely collapse within minutes.
What would the collapse of the Divine Kingdom mean?
Over three hundred believers losing their home, the faith links breaking, and all the power he had accumulated so far resetting to zero.
That could not be allowed.
Aaron’s soul projection hovered in midair above the Divine Kingdom, extending his hands to both sides.
He didn’t panic.
Panicking was a human reaction; a being possessing a Godhead would not be swayed by emotion.
His mind was operating at twenty-seven times the neural signal speed of an ordinary human, locking onto the only viable solution in less than a second.
Faith.
He needed faith energy to anchor the boundaries of the Divine Kingdom.
“All believers.”
Aaron’s voice was not shouted aloud; it was poured directly into the consciousness of every believer as a divine decree.
A single word.
The response of the three hundred-plus insects occurred almost simultaneously.
The ants stopped trembling, pointing their antennae in unison toward the sky.
The beetles spread their wing covers, their wings emitting a fine hum in the air.
The centipedes raised their heads, dozens of legs tapping rhythmically against the ground like a dense drumbeat.
The crickets resumed chirping, but this time it wasn’t random insect noise—it was a neat, rhythmic chorus.
The Demiguise let go of the rock it was holding and sat crouched on the ground, its silver-white hair glowing with a soft light from root to tip.
Naga uncoiled its body, standing upright, and the horn on its head shot a pillar of emerald-green light straight into the sky.
Faith energy gushed from the depths of every believer’s soul.
Faint, intense, cold, warm—hundreds of faith streams merged into a golden river, surging toward the boundaries of the Divine Kingdom.
The golden light solidified at the borders, forming chain-like patterns that gripped the edges of the cracking dome tightly.
The expansion of the fissures slowed down.
But it didn’t stop.
The faith energy wasn’t enough.
The faith provided by three hundred-plus insects and two magical beasts could temporarily stall the speed of the Divine Kingdom’s collapse, but if the clash continued, it would eventually give out.
Aaron’s gaze fell upon the open space in the center of the Divine Kingdom.
The disc’s energy was pouring in from that exact location—a suspended black point of light that continuously released chaotic waves in all directions.
It wasn’t attacking the Divine Kingdom.
It was searching.
Searching for a position to slot into.
Aaron realized what was happening.
This thing was neither a weapon nor a curse.
It was a component.
A piece that originally belonged to the Creator Godhead.
His parents had found this piece, but had been unable to install it because they were not gods.
They had tried to seal it using wizardry methods, only to die from the backlash.
And now, this piece was automatically seeking its proper place.
It was just that the process of fitting together produced massive energy fluctuations that the Divine Kingdom could not withstand.
There was only one solution.
Do not resist.
Do not seal.
Let it fit in.
Aaron’s soul projection dived downward, charging straight toward the suspended black point of light.