Three Divine Wishes: Yes, I'm OP!

Akasha eased himself into the vast emptiness, folding his legs beneath him as the Dreamer’s Scythe lay heavy and silent across his lap.

The void pressed in around him—weightless, yet smothering, as if the world itself was holding its breath to witness what might come next.

Around him, the realm writhed in agony—a landscape shattered by forces too immense to name.

Residual power crackled through the air, making the hair at the nape of his neck prickle.

Black lightning raked the sky, each bolt splitting the darkness and illuminating jagged wounds in the Underside itself.

His abyss-black eyes never left Nara.

".... Shall we talk on common ground now?"

Nara’s green eyes narrowed, tracking every detail: how he sat so composed, the easy confidence radiating from him, the utter lack of fear despite the devastation he’d unleashed.

His voice—steady, unhurried—felt more dangerous than any threat.

Her fingers, once white-knuckled on the living bow, relaxed by degrees. The ancient wood pulsed faintly, alive beneath her touch, as if sensing her shifting resolve.

A breath of laughter slipped from her, half incredulity, half relief—an unguarded moment that surprised even herself.

"Akasha... Lord Dream." She let the name roll over her tongue, tasting it like a secret rediscovered after centuries.

"Hmm, I see..."

The words came softer, the sharp edge of her suspicion blunted by curiosity.

In that moment, images—stolen memories glimpsed through Jovian’s eyes—flickered in her mind.

The name echoed there, like a half-forgotten legend: Lord Dream.

’If he is the same being I glimpsed... he is hiding more than anything he’s letting on,’ she thought, intrigue twisting into a quiet awe.

In her mind’s eye, Akasha took shape as he had in the past: white elven grace marbled with the feral strength of dragons and the eerie allure of vampire blood.

The vision shimmered—a memory, or perhaps a warning.

When she spoke again, the god-voice was gone. Only her true self remained, raw and unburdened.

"Twenty-nine years... such ambition, or is it arrogance?" she wondered aloud, tilting her head as if studying a curious artifact unearthed from beneath the world’s skin.

Akasha’s expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of satisfaction glimmered in the depths of his abyssal gaze—a secret only he understood.

’Curiosity... that, I can use,’ Akasha mused, the thought sliding cold and deliberate through his mind.

His purpose—razor sharp and unwavering—remained the same: finish what he had begun, but not at the price of pointless conflict.

He would not make new enmities if diplomacy could serve him better. The hunger to shape fate was there, but so was the wisdom to avoid needless war.

If he could coax this elegant woman into yielding Kalpa, the rest would fall in line—like stars settling into the orbits he’d chosen for them.

And in this moment... The world itself seemed to tremble at the possibility.

He ignored her question, letting the silence hang just long enough to unsettle. When he spoke, his tone was even—almost gentle, a contrast to the violence swirling in the dead sky above.

"Nara... Lewyn," Akasha said, the names lingering in the air, "my age—and the rest—have little meaning here."

Underneath his words, a subtle promise shimmered, hinting at secrets still unspoken.

"Don’t you think... we should move on to the real matter?"

Nara’s smile vanished, replaced by a glint of calculation—green eyes sharp as cut emeralds, reading the threat beneath his civility.

’How does he know my name?’ The thought shivered through her like cold water.

Not only her, but the true identity of all Godly beings was usually concealed... unless one knew them quite closely.

Yet here it was, tossed out so casually, as if he could see straight through every mask she wore.

Wind tugged at her hair, twisting green strands into wild sways.

She fixed her stare on Akasha, every muscle poised, as his words unfurled—slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

"This world—Kalpa—belongs to me." His voice was low, but every syllable rang with a certainty that left no room for argument.

His words lingered in the battered air, carrying both a promise and a warning.

"The Celestial Sun," he went on, "left this star system ages ago, and in their absence, this world was there for the taking. And, well... if you snooze, you lose.

After everything I’ve done, I’m not about to give up what’s mine. So don’t count on me to start now."

The silence thickened—heavy, electric—each heartbeat a dare neither would voice.

Above, the sky churned, a living tempest. Wind howled, snatching at words and hair, while black lightning carved wounds into the broken heavens.

Nara’s laughter sliced through the tension—a soft ripple at first, then warmer, richer, yet edged with a promise sharp as moonlight on a blade.

"Boy... as impressive as you are," she said, her eyes gleaming—a predator sizing up another. "You really think you can stand alone against the Alliance of Pantheons?"

She tilted her head, letting the question hang—a trap disguised as idle curiosity—before adding, voice silk and steel.

"And what’s to stop me from killing you where you stand?"

Akasha smiled for the first time—a slow, feral curve that revealed nothing and promised everything.

His smile was the slow, lethal curl of a predator recognizing another.

Deep in his chest, the Primal Chaos Dragon bloodline thrummed—a hungry vibration that rose his spine, igniting something wild and ancient.

Then... the Beastkin within answered, every nerve alight with the urge to claim, to conquer, to defend.

He stood up in one fluid motion.

The Dreamer’s Scythe spun in his grip, blade catching the fractured light and scattering it across the battered expanse.

"The Celestial Accord... blah, blah, blah."

His voice was almost light, conversational, but the smile stayed sharp.

"You know... I could dismantle each Pantheon, one by one. Starting with the Celestial Sun and Moon."

His abyssal gaze drifted to Amaterasu’s unconscious form, suspended in the empty air. He spun the scythe again, lazy and precise, as if drawing a line between life and oblivion.

"I think... it becomes simple—once their leaders are gone."

In that moment, with Amaterasu out of the picture, a fight with Nara seemed far more even.

That is, if he actually chose to fight... but when had Akasha ever settled for something so direct, especially when easier paths were available?

’I kind of forgot about this...’ he mused inwardly, watching as Nara’s grip on the living bow tightened to white-knuckled intensity, the ancient wood creaking under her strength.

She drew the string—an arrow of living energy blooming at her command, vibrant and deadly.

Akasha’s smile stayed steady as he moved forward—slow and deliberate, each step carrying the unspoken threat of violence barely restrained.

"Nara.... Give me Kalpa—or both of you die here."

HUMMMMM!!!!

He reached into his inventory, and in that moment, he summoned a glyph of blood-red light.

It hovered, humming with silent power, before sinking into the fabric of the world—a seed of devastation about to bloom.

[Legion Slaughter Array (God) — Summons ten thousand Unbound/Constellation Ranked Warriors for one hour.]

When the array flared to life, divinity surged outward—hot, blinding, overwhelming.

Then in moments... ten thousand warriors materialized across the ruined sky, each radiating power that dwarfed Nara and Amaterasu.

Their presence warped the void, making it shudder with the promise of annihilation.

Nara’s face went pale, all color fleeing in an instant.

The bow quivered in her hands, on the verge of slipping free.

Her eyes, wide with shock, followed Akasha’s unhurried advance—each step deliberate, heavy with the weight of inevitability.

"I’m not here for bloodshed," he said, voice soft as velvet. "I only want this world. Nothing more."

’What...’ Nara’s thoughts reeled, scrambling to calculate the odds—impossible, even for her.

’This... what rank of array is this?!’

The question echoed in her mind as a sinking certainty settled in—things had just shifted, and not in her favor.

She knew... the Accord couldn’t risk losing her, nor could they risk losing Amaterasu.

Her gaze sharpened, scanning for even the smallest thread of leverage she could pull on.

"So... this is a negotiation?"

Even now, with annihilation breathing down her neck, Nara calculated. His reach was limited—no more than a handful of continents, as far as she could tell. Maybe there was still an opening.

"If you want this world fine... but why not join the Celestial Accord?"

Akasha’s smile widened. Normally, he would have refused—the notion was almost comical. But this, too, had been part of his intentions and plans from the start.

’Perfect... but let’s not linger here,’ he thought before speaking aloud.

"Well, that in itself... isn’t ideal," Akasha said, "but I’ll accept—on one condition: I join your alliance for no more than a century."

Nara’s eyes narrowed, calculating. "Two... centuries."

Akasha gave a single shake of his head.

"... One hundred and fifty years. That’s the limit."

The silence that followed was long, filled only by the mournful howl of the shattered sky and the still, waiting ranks of an army standing at the brink of forever.

When he smiled again, it was gentler, almost human—a brief spark of warmth against the icy logic of war.

"Let’s meet again—really meet—when the skies are nicer. At... Dreamer’s Peak, twenty-one years from now. On the Topside."

Nara held his gaze without flinching.

Finally, she gave a quick, firm nod—an agreement as delicate as glass.

The instant their pact solidified, a status screen bloomed before Akasha’s eyes.

In the next breath, he was gone—leaving nothing but dissolving motes of blood-red light where ten thousand gods had stood.