Epilogue V ‒ The Throne, the Tide and the Ember
Epilogue V ‒ The Throne, the Tide and the Ember
[Entering Sanctuary: Crucible Gate]
A long shadow stretched across the scorched stones as the sun bled low over the horizon. Shindeon, Infernal Warden of the Underworld, stood tall atop a blackened ridge, his gaze fixed on the distant fireline of dusk.
All around him, Vengeful Spirits toiled in silence — rebuilding his sanctuary. They etched runes into newly raised obelisks, reseated charred glyphstones, and aligned obsidian pillars with eerie precision.
Cracks glowed with emberlight. The very ground seemed to pulse with purpose.
Shindeon lifted his arms to the sky.
“Finally,” he said, voice echoing like a furnace roar, “the Age of Destruction draws near.”
A grin twisted across his face as his cape of smoke coiled behind him like a serpent.
“Now that the [Player] is gone… who will stand in my path? No one. Not oath, not fate. Promises? Vows? Hollow fictions for mortals. I am a god whose birthright is annihilation! And once my sanctuary is fully restored—”
His arms flared outward.
“—I shall open the gates of the underworld and burn this continent to cinders.”
His laugh was a wildfire unleashed.
“KRRRRAHHHHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Truly a masterpiece of a plan,” said a voice behind him.
Shindeon froze. His flames dimmed slightly.
“Yes, that’s right,” he said slowly, not turning yet. “I, the Infernal Warden, will seize dominion over all lands.”
“And then?” the voice asked again, casual and curious.
“And then I—” Shindeon’s brow creased. “Wait… who are you? How did you—”
He turned.
There, standing in the ash and runes, was Cupcake Crab, humming softly, the edges of his frosting-shaped shell glowing faintly in the dusk. In one claw, he lazily flipped a key-shaped ember that shimmered gold-red.
[Divine Key — Shindeon’s Ember]
Shindeon’s molten eyes narrowed. “You. You. How do you possess that?”
Cupcake Crab gave a lazy twirl and caught the divine key on one clawtip. “Oh, this old thing?”
“That is my divine essence,” Shindeon growled. “Return it to me now, and I may grant you a painless death.”
“Sure,” Cupcake said, unbothered. “But first, answer a question. What do you plan to do after you claim this continent?”
“You dare question me, mortal?”
A column of fire roared up behind him as he bellowed:
[Shindeon Activated Skill: Firestorm]
A vortex of flame erupted from his form, engulfing the stonework and blasting apart several newly placed glyphs. The spirits fled in panic, and the obelisks cracked and fell in glowing ruin.
Cupcake Crab remained untouched. Around his neck, something shimmered — a single feather, pink and radiant.
Shindeon squinted… and recoiled.
“No… that feather… it can’t be—”
He said nothing. But deep in the furnace of his chest, something cracked.
Cupcake Crab gently held it between his claws. “So, you do remember her.”
Shindeon’s fire guttered. His voice cracked into silence.
“The [Player] believed in you,” Cupcake said quietly. “You were meant to destroy, yes. But you weren’t only meant to destroy. You still have a choice.”
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“You—dare speak of choices to me?” Shindeon hissed.
Cupcake didn’t flinch. “Fate’s just a script. You can still rewrite it. The [Player] asked you for a promise. I’m asking you to honour it.”
He stepped forward, the pink feather glowing softly in the infernal dark.
“Stay in your sanctuary. Live out your eternity without breaking the world again. That’s the deal, remember?”
Shindeon lowered his head. Steam hissed from his shoulders like pressure valves giving way.
“…Can I have my essence back?” he asked.
Cupcake nodded. “Of course. But no more ‘domain conquering,’ got it?”
Shindeon growled. “How long do you plan to humiliate me, insect?”
“No humiliation,” Cupcake chirped. “Just a gentle divine reminder.”
He placed the key on the ground. It pulsed once, then dissolved into threads of gold that drifted toward Shindeon’s chest, rejoining his core in a blaze of molten light.
Shindeon shuddered, steadying himself.
Cupcake turned to leave. “I hope I don’t have to remind you again.”
Shindeon didn’t respond. But he didn’t ignite anything else, either.
As Cupcake Crab vanished between the broken glyphs, the pink feather shimmered once, then faded beneath his shell.
Only silence followed — heavy, smoky, and uncertain.
Cupcake Crab reappeared in a quiet clearing outside a ruined shrine, where fireflies drifted in lazy spirals and stone bells hung from broken arches. He sat on a sun-warmed rock, watching the sky shift from ember-orange to deep violet.
He kicked his claws idly.
“Three more gods,” he muttered. “And still no lunch.”
With a sigh, he stood, brushing dust from his shell.
“Alright, time to visit the sphinx that never smiles.”
---
[Entering Sanctuary: Labyrinth of Shifting Echoes]
The corridor stretched like a tomb’s breath—dark, vast, and silent. Etched glyphs shimmered faintly across the sandstone walls, and along each side stood towering statues of robed figures, their faces worn smooth by time. Flames lit the torches with an unnatural steadiness, casting flickering shadows that danced with unnerving precision.
At the far end loomed a massive throne—carved of layered stone and set with veins of gold and rusted bronze. Empty.
Cupcake Crab stepped forward into the stillness, gaze lifting toward the vast, unoccupied seat.
“Well, this is rude.”
He squinted at the empty throne, then gave a theatrical sigh. “I wasn’t expecting a parade or anything. But you’d think the guy could at least be here.”
He waddled up the dais, his claws clicking against the polished floor. With a little hop, he scrambled up and flopped into the massive seat with an exaggerated plop.
He sank deep into it—far too small for the throne by leagues.
Tap. Tap. Tap-tap.
He began drumming the armrest with one claw.
A low hum stirred in the walls.
The statues’ eyes flared red. With a grinding shudder, they moved—lurching forward, stone limbs carrying massive weapons, steps echoing like ancient gears coming to life.
Cupcake blinked.
“Ohhh, looks like he did leave some guard dogs behind. Haha!”
He raised both claws in mock surrender. “There’s no need to be hostile. I’m just here to return what belongs to him.”
With practiced ease, he held up the glowing relic.
[Divine Key — Thamutekh’s Hourglass]
He placed it on the armrest beside him. The divine key pulsed gently once, then unravelled into shimmering golden threads that floated up into the space above the throne—vanishing into the air like dust caught in time.
Cupcake Crab hopped down and began waddling toward the corridor exit, humming softly. The statues froze, weapons poised mid-air, watching him retreat in silence.
“Nice hospitality,” he muttered cheerfully. “Five out of five for ominous decor.”
---
On the edge of a misted coastline, Cupcake Crab blinked against the salty breeze. The Temple of Tides loomed in the distance, waves lapping against its towering gate.
He opened his satchel and squinted inside.
[Divine Key — Volkrayne’s Volt]
“Storm god next,” he said, glancing at the sky. “Hopefully no lightning tantrums this time.”
He adjusted his frosting dome like a helmet. “Right then. Show time.”
A tall stone gate shimmered with oceanic runes, its surface slick with ethereal water that flowed upward, defying gravity. The entrance to the Temple of Tides towered like a coastal cliff at moonrise—immense, ancient, unmoved.
Cupcake Crab stood before it, staring up.
[Entering Sanctuary: Temple of Tides]
[Error: Entrance Denied]
He touched a claw to the glowing runes. The symbols lit briefly in azure…
[Error: Entrance Denied]
“Wow. I didn’t know sanctuaries came with security settings,” he said, blinking.
With a click of his claws and a flash of light, he vanished.
---
Inside the sanctum, the air rippled—and with it, Cupcake Crab reappeared, brushing imaginary dust off his shell.
Behind him, a massive figure recoiled in shock.
“How… how did you get in? I thought—I sealed—”
Cupcake Crab waved nonchalantly. “I only teleported outside. I’m not rude. I knock. But you really thought that door could stop me? The greatest travelling merchant in the world?”
The immense being before him—towering, sinuous, armoured in ridged blue plates with coral-like crests rising from its back—stared in disbelief. Water shimmered along its scaled frame, and its enormous claws crackled faintly with stormlight.
Then Volkrayne’s gaze dropped to the small feather hanging from Cupcake’s neck.
A soft pink feather. Gentle. Familiar.
The god’s eyes widened. Slowly, awkwardly, he lowered himself until his armoured form bowed before the tiny crab.
“I… ugh…”
Cupcake smiled.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to scold you. You were just guarding what needed guarding. You did good.”
From his satchel, he retrieved the glowing artifact.
[Divine Key — Volkrayne’s Volt]
The moment he released it, it shimmered in hues of gold and ocean-blue. The key dissolved into threads of light that spiralled around Volkrayne’s chest, sinking into him like rain absorbed by the sea.
Volkrayne straightened and touched a claw to his chest, his head bowed in quiet understanding.
Cupcake Crab adjusted his satchel and sighed.
“Well, one last stop to make,” he muttered. “But I swear, this is turning into a full-time job. Divine courier work without divine pay.”
He cracked his claws.
“You know what? Before I make that stop, I’m going to lodge an official complaint. Someone upstairs needs to hear about this overwork.”
And just like that, with a swirl of tide-magic and a puff of seafoam, he vanished.