The view from the balcony of the mansion was breathtaking. It overlooked a world that had been meticulously crafted over eighty years.

Skyscrapers pierced the clouds, forests stretched to the horizon, and billions of simulated lives played out their destinies below.

Sunny and Nyx stood by the railing, their elbows touching, watching the sun set on the empire of their dreams.

Nyx turned to look at Sunny. She studied his face, the unmasked, youthful perfection of a God who had transcended mortality.

It was a face that would never age, never wither, never show the passage of time. And while that was a blessing, a sudden, melancholic thought struck her.

It was also a tragedy. They would never share the intimacy of growing old together.

She smiled, a mischievous glint entering her eyes. She raised her hand, mimicking the gesture Sunny used when he manifested something.

She didn't manifest a physical object. She manifested a concept.

A ripple passed over them. The sensation was immediate and strange. Sunny felt a heaviness settle in his bones. The skin on his hands, usually smooth as marble, began to thin and spot.

He touched his face. He felt deep wrinkles etched into his skin. He looked down and saw a few strands of his moonlight-white hair turn a dull gray. His back, usually straight as a rod, hunched slightly under the weight of age.

Nyx changed too. Her radiance softened into the fragile, dignified beauty of a grandmother.

Silver lines mapped the corners of her eyes, and her hands shook slightly as she gripped the railing.

They have become old and frail human.

"Boss," Nyx asked, her voice rasping slightly with age, though her eyes burned with the same fierce, youthful intensity. "Do you believe in fate?"

Sunny looked out at the twilight. "I do," he replied.

If anyone in the multiverse understood fate, it was him. He had seen the threads connecting Adam to Merlin.

He had felt the guiding hand of the Void Mother. He knew about the return of the Old Gods, and his own ascension were not accidents. These were all the games of fate.

"I believe in it too," Nyx said softly, moving closer to him. "I believe that… even if all this hadn't happened. Even if the Adam chose our world. Even if we were never made Gods… somehow, I would have met you."

She looked down at her wrinkled hands, then back at him. "And I would have fallen in love with you."

She laughed, a wheezing, happy sound. "My parents were strict. They wouldn't have allowed a rich heiress to date a delivery man. They would have locked me in this mansion"

"But me being me… I would have climbed out the window. I would have run away to your cramped apartment."

Sunny listened, entranced. He could see it. The life that never was.

"We would have lived in poverty for a few years," Nyx continued, painting the picture in the air.

"Eating instant noodles, arguing about bills. But later, when my parents finally found us, they would have seen how happy I was. They would have accepted you. And with your sharp mind… my mother would have taken a liking to you. She would have handed you a business or two to manage."

She stepped closer, her hand resting on his chest. "I imagine we would have had children. A boy and a girl. Maybe more, if you liked."

Tears welled in her aged eyes. "I imagine us becoming old… just like we are right now. Sitting on a porch, holding hands, waiting for the end."

She paused, searching his face. "Am I too delusional, Sunny?"

The silence stretched between them.

"I wish we could do this for real," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I wish I could watch you get wrinkles. I wish I could take care of you when your back hurts. But since we are eternal… since we will never fade…"

She looked away, hiding her face in shame at her own vulnerability.

"I'll just have to love you for forever instead."

The confession hung in the air, heavier than any pressure that Sunny had felt till now.

Sunny stood frozen. His heart, usually calm, was beating erratically. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to grab her hand and promise her that forever.

But he wasn't a human like he used to think. And his future… his future was a terrifying black hole.

He believed in fate, yes. But fate wasn't kind. Fate was the thing that threw you into a meat grinder to save the multiverse.

He was connected to Lady Sansa. He was Void-born.

He felt a pull, a magnetic drag toward the Real Void outside this bubble of reality.

His destiny didn't end on a throne in this bubble. It ended somewhere dark and likely fatal.

He didn't want these Gods; his friends, his subordinates to face what he had to face.

He planned to rule alone, to fight alone, to spare them the horror.

Maybe, once the Demon Lords were dead and the Void was silenced, he could think about a wife. About happiness.

But not now.

He wanted to decline. He wanted to push her away for her own safety.

But his hand moved on its own.

His trembling, aged fingers reached out and gently cupped her chin, turning her face back toward him.

"Nyx…" he whispered.

'What are you doing, Sunny? Back off,' his mind screamed. 'You are a weapon. Do not drag her into the line of fire.'

His mind split into two distinct paths. One showed him pushing her away, keeping her safe in her ignorance, leaving her behind as he marched into the Void.

The other showed him holding her, sharing the burden, and loving each other till eternity.

Beautiful and Dangerous.

He looked into her eyes; eyes that had loved him when he was a masked stranger, loved him when he was a tyrant, and loved him now that he was an old man in a dream.

He made his choice.

"Nyx," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know now that your feelings are pure. And… I am terrified."

Nyx blinked, surprised by the admission.

"My future may not exist," Sunny confessed, dropping the mask of the invincible Emperor. "Even if we defeat the Demon Lords… my fate doesn't end there. I feel it. I need to go past everything. I need to enter the True World."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I may die there. I may become something else entirely. I wish I could love you simply, like you love me. But I don't want to drag you into my danger."

It was the first time he had ever spoken these fears aloud. The first time the Emperor had admitted he might not come back.

Nyx looked at him. She didn't see a God. She saw a man trying to protect her from his own shadow.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she threw her arms around him, hugging him with a strength that surpassed her frail body.

"You idiot," she sobbed into his chest. "Do you think I care about danger? We are eternal. If you go to the Void, I will wait. If you die, I will find your soul or die trying. I will wait for eternity if I have to."

Sunny stood there, enveloped in her warmth. The guilt washed over him, but so did a sense of relief.

She knew. She accepted it. And she wasn't leaving.

He patted her gray hair, surrendering. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

They stood there for a long time, the wind rustling their clothes.

Eventually, Sunny pulled back gently. He needed to lighten the mood before his heart burst.

"Don't you want to show me something else?" he asked, wiping a tear from her wrinkled cheek. "I thought you were going to create everything here. Is this old house all you have?"

Nyx sniffled, then laughed, a bright sound that shed decades from her body.

"Mm," she nodded.

She closed her eyes and both of them vanished and arrived faraway from the Endor, leaving it for the artificial souls that will be living there.

They were no longer old. They were back in their prime, standing in a place that defied logic.

It was a garden, connected by waterfalls that flowed uncontrollably. Creatures from a thousand myths roamed freely; silver unicorns grazed beside miniature dragons, and phoenixes nested in branches of gold.

"It's beautiful," Sunny admitted, looking around. "You have a talent for creation, Nyx. Maybe even better than mine."

He watched a small dragon chase a butterfly. 'Maybe I should bless her with Manifestation Affinity?' he thought.

Then he shook his head. 'No. Thea can manifest anything she needs. This… this imagination is her own power.'

Nyx took his hand, her fingers interlacing with his. "Let's sit," she said, pointing to a massive tree in the center of the garden. Its roots formed a natural cradle, cushioned by soft, glowing moss.

They walked to the tree, hand in hand. The fear of vanishing, the fear of the future, seemed to recede in this sanctuary.

Nyx sat down beneath the boughs, arranging her dress. She patted the spot beside her, then patted her lap.

Sunny hesitated for only a fraction of a second. He sat down, and then, giving in to exhaustion he hadn't realized he was carrying, he laid his head on her lap.

He looked up at her. She smiled, brushing his white hair back from his forehead. She began to hum a soft, wordless lullaby that resonated with the peace of the dream world.

Sunny closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, the God of the Gods didn't think about war. He didn't think about faith. He just listened to the song, and let himself drift.

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