The graveyard remained silent long after the system message disappeared.
[Temporary designation: The Hunger That Learned To Love.] Ethan wished, not for the first time, that the System possessed a stronger sense of discretion.
“This is officially the strangest week of my life,” he said quietly.
Captain Reyes gave him a look.
“You’re being hunted by gods.” “That wasn’t even in my top three.” Sarah wiped her eyes and pointed accusingly at him.
“You can’t just casually reveal that the universe’s greatest monster fell in love!” “I didn’t reveal anything!” “The System did!” “Which somehow makes this worse!” Azrakel watched the exchange with an expression Ethan couldn’t quite place.
There was sadness there.
And nostalgia.
“She would have liked you.” The words caused everyone to stop.
“Who?” Ethan asked.
The Last Emperor’s gaze drifted toward the fractured sky above the Gate.
“The last person to speak with the Hunger.” The shadow beneath Ethan’s feet had become unusually quiet.
Its silver eyes remained fixed upon Azrakel, as though afraid of what he might say next.
“You remember her name, don’t you?” the emperor asked softly.
A long silence followed.
Then, reluctantly: “…No.” “You lie poorly.” “I learned from him.” That earned the faintest hint of a smile from Azrakel.
“That explains much.” Ethan rubbed his temples.
“I would appreciate significantly fewer cryptic conversations involving my apparent former cosmic self.” “You are impatient.” “I had a simple life three days ago!” “No,” Azrakel said quietly.
“You had a small life.
There is a difference.” For some reason, those words lingered.
The ancient emperor began walking toward the ruins of the mausoleum.
Every member of the Forgotten Dead bowed as he passed.
“Her name has been lost.” “That’s unfortunate.” “It was intentional.” That caught Ethan’s attention.
“What do you mean?” Azrakel stopped beside one of the broken chains.
“When the First Universe died, the surviving gods made a choice.” “To survive?” “To forget.” The wind across the graveyard grew colder.
“They erased her from creation.” Silence.
“That’s possible?” Captain Reyes asked.
“Gods can accomplish many things when they are afraid.” The shadow finally spoke.
“They feared her more than us.” Us.
There it was again.
Ethan was beginning to suspect that his shadow had an alarming tendency to consider them a package deal.
“Why?” Sarah asked quietly.
Azrakel closed his eyes.
“Because she succeeded.” Nobody understood.
The emperor opened his hand.
Golden light gathered above his palm, slowly forming the image of a young woman.
She couldn’t have been older than twenty.
Dark hair.
Kind eyes.
An utterly ordinary face.
That, more than anything else, felt wrong.
After everything Ethan had learned about the First Universe, he had expected someone impossibly divine.
Instead, she looked…
Human.
“That’s her?” he asked.
“Yes.” “She doesn’t look particularly terrifying.” “Neither do you.” “That’s fair.” The image shifted.
The woman sat beside an endless black sea, her feet dangling over the edge of a cliff.
And beside her sat a shadow.
Not Ethan’s shadow.
Something vastly larger.
Something that swallowed stars.
“She found the Hunger at the end of creation,” Azrakel said softly.
“How?” “No one knows.” The emperor’s expression softened.
“She simply appeared one day.” The shadow beneath Ethan’s feet trembled.
“She was loud.” Everyone turned.
“You remember something?” “…Fragments.” The silver eyes slowly closed.
“She talked too much.” For the first time in hours, Ethan smiled.
“Really?” “Endlessly.” Azrakel laughed quietly.
“That sounds like her.” The image changed again.
The woman was speaking animatedly while the shadow remained motionless beside her.
“What did she say?” Ethan asked.
The emperor’s smile became distant.
“Mostly nonsense.” “Nonsense?” “She asked why the stars were pretty.” Silence.
“That was her question?” “Among others.” Azrakel’s voice carried the weight of old memories.
“She asked whether monsters could be lonely.
She asked why eternity felt so cold.
She asked if shadows became sad when everyone forgot them.” The shadow beneath Ethan’s feet had become completely still.
“And eventually,” Azrakel continued, “she asked the Hunger a question.” “What question?” The image faded slightly.
“‘If everyone is gone,’ she asked, ‘then who is keeping you company?'” No one spoke.
The answer was absurdly simple.
Painfully human.
“That…” Captain Reyes said quietly, “is not what I expected.” “Neither was she.” The emperor’s expression darkened.
“The gods feared her because she accomplished what none of them could.” “She stopped the Devourer.” “No.” Azrakel shook his head.
“She taught it that it did not have to be alone.” The words settled heavily over the graveyard.
Ethan didn’t know why, but his chest hurt.
A memory surfaced briefly.
Laughter.
Warmth.
Someone complaining that eternity was boring.
Then it was gone.
The system chimed.
[Memory Fragment Synchronization: 2%.] [Host emotional instability detected.] “Oh, that’s helpful.” Azrakel watched him carefully.
“Do you remember her?” “No.” The answer came too quickly.
The emperor said nothing.
“Seriously.
I don’t.” “Of course.” “Stop saying it like that.” The shadow suddenly spoke.
“…She gave us a name.” Silence.
“What?” The silver eyes opened once more.
“Before her, we were only Hunger.” Ethan’s breath caught.
“What name?” The shadow hesitated.
For the first time since meeting it, it sounded uncertain.
“…Friend.” Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Sarah quietly started crying again.
“This story is emotionally manipulative,” Ethan muttered.
Captain Reyes pointedly pretended to wipe dust from her eyes.
Azrakel simply smiled.
“For the first time in eternity, the Hunger was seen not as a force of nature, but as a person.” The emperor looked directly at Ethan.
“And that terrified the gods.” “Why?” “Because monsters can be fought.” His golden eyes burned brighter.
“But people can be loved.” The sky above the Gate suddenly darkened.
Every system notification in existence appeared simultaneously.
[WARNING.] [DIVINE INTERFERENCE DETECTED.] [ENTITY ATTEMPTING TO ACCESS SEALED RECORDS.] Azrakel’s expression immediately changed.
“Impossible.” The image of the woman flickered violently.
Then, slowly, another figure appeared beside her.
Tall.
Wrapped in white robes.
Its face hidden behind a mask of gold.
The moment Ethan saw it, every instinct in his body screamed.
Run.
[DIVINE ENTITY IDENTIFIED.] [THE FIRST GOD.] [THE KEEPER OF NAMES.] The figure turned toward Ethan.
Even across billions of years, it somehow saw him.
“Interesting.” Its voice echoed through the Gate.
“It remembers.” Azrakel’s aura exploded.
“You are not welcome here.” The First God ignored him.
Its gaze remained fixed on Ethan.
“How unfortunate.” The shadow beneath Ethan’s feet had begun shaking violently.
“Why is it here?” Ethan asked.
“It should be dead,” Azrakel whispered.
That answer was not particularly reassuring.
The First God slowly raised one hand.
“Tell me, Ethan Vale.” The world around them began to fracture.
“When you remember her name…” Its hidden face tilted slightly.
“…will you choose to become the Devourer once again?” Silence.
Then, for the first time since the apocalypse began, Ethan answered without hesitation.
“No.” The First God was silent.
“You answer too quickly.” “Maybe.” Ethan took a deep breath.
“But I made my mother a promise.” Every eye in the graveyard turned toward him.
“What?” “I told her I’d visit next month.” Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, Azrakel laughed.
A genuine laugh.
Soon, Captain Reyes joined him.
Then Sarah.
Even Ash, somehow, managed to sound amused.
The First God remained utterly motionless.
Finally, Ethan shrugged.
“So, no offense to the end of creation and all that, but I’d like to keep being Ethan Vale for a while.” The First God stared at him for several long seconds.
Then, quietly: “…She would have liked you.” And with that, the connection shattered.
The sky returned to normal.
Silence followed.
Ethan blinked.
“Did I just get complimented by God?” Azrakel’s expression was unreadable.
“No.” The emperor looked toward the distant horizon.
“You were mistaken for someone much more dangerous.”