They walked toward a huge cube-like structure at the center of the dome — with every transcendent entity now gone, it stood alone within the vast space. The first elder and the other two elders approached the cube together, hands outstretched, and the moment their palms touched its surface, it shimmered faintly. A voice rose from within, ancient and impossibly deep: "Come in, my children. I have been expecting you all."
The three elders stepped through the cube's surface, which had rippled into something like a curtain of water, and Solanky's group followed close behind. Inside stretched a vast hall built from gold and other precious metals, stars suspended overhead in place of any conventional light source. The three elders scattered toward what appeared to be waiting seats or thrones, arranged in different directions across the hall, and settled into them in perfect unison. Each raised both hands to their head, the motion careful and deliberate, as though lifting away something invisible to the naked eye.
Solanky's curiosity sharpened. He activated his observational technique and caught it — faint halos, shaped like crowns, resting above each elder's head. These crowns revealed themselves only rarely, and never to beings below the transcendent entity level; the sight of them could unravel a weaker mind entirely, their overwhelming beauty and reverence liable to convince the beholder they were gazing upon literal gods. In the beyond realm, half-step peak-turn beings who bore such halos were bound by unspoken law to keep them concealed at all times.
The three elders set their halos gently upon their laps and spoke together, voices merging into one: "Greetings to the desolate god, his majesty, creator of the desolate region and the cave world of desolation."
The new arrivals stood in stunned silence, hardly able to process that beings of this magnitude would offer such reverence to another. Anticipation swelled among them — a chance, finally, to witness the desolate god's true form. Several had never stood before a true peak-turn being, and the longing to feel that kind of power firsthand was almost unbearable.
The space itself shuddered violently. Where the three elders' bodies now angled in silent gesture, a colossal silhouette began to take shape from the emptiness, a throne rising into being behind it. The figure radiated an aura beyond anything they'd encountered — unrestrained, unfiltered, pressing down on them with such crushing weight that Solanky's entire group dropped to their knees without meaning to. The desolate god towered at 50 trillion light-years in height, six arms that looked capable of bearing the very foundations of the beyond realm on their own. His appearance mirrored, exactly, the statue that had marked the teleportation point where they'd first arrived.
He settled onto the throne behind him and, in doing so, withdrew the crushing pressure he'd exerted over them. Solanky, having once stood in the presence of the forsaken god, drew a quiet conclusion — this being's realm and cultivation surpassed the forsaken god's, if only slightly.
The newcomers to the desolate god's domain were called seedlings, and the desolate god, as absolute sovereign of this space, needed only a glance to unravel and dissect each of them completely. His gaze settled on Solanky, then the mysterious woman beside him, interest sharpening. "These two, I take it, are the strongest among them. Fascinating — one built around spiritual body and spiritual power, the other around raw physical combat strength. The rest aren't lacking either. This batch shows real promise, better than the last."
Still kneeling, Solanky and his companions held their silence, careful and respectful. A true peak-turn being could erase them from existence without effort, and the world beyond would lay the blame on them alone for having provoked one.
The desolate god turned his hand, and a massive palm formed from his spiritual energy rose from the ground beneath the seedlings, lifting them and drawing them closer. "It's time you learned something of the desolate god region," he said. The seedlings settled cross-legged atop the palm to listen, and around them bloomed a memory-world, shaped to let them witness his story unfold as he told it.
Billions of samsaras ago, when I was still a transcendent entity, two powerful half-step peak-turns hunted me relentlessly. I fled into the most dangerous reaches of the beyond realm, carrying with me a true peak-turns artifact — one capable of deepening comprehension of the peak-turns technique, and serving, if needed, as a trump card against anything below that level. But those two half-step peak-turns had already been tracking my every move. They noticed the artifact, saw how it elevated my strength to their level at the cost of draining my spiritual energy — and they'd watched me use it to kill one of their own kind.
While fleeing them, I stumbled — carelessly — into the middle of a battle between two true peak-turn beings. Their clash nearly killed me through sheer energy backlash alone. My pursuers weren't so fortunate; the shockwaves of that battle obliterated them instantly. I survived only because of the artifact — a golden statue depicting a true peak-turns being who had reached the Eighth Peak Turn, a figure known for reclusiveness and staggering strength.
Once the true peak-turns battle ended, I discovered the golden statue had absorbed and purified the blood spilled by both combatants, leaving behind energy so vast I could draw on it to shatter the limits of my physical and spiritual bodies and ascend to half-step peak-turns myself. For the first hundred years, I did nothing but absorb and refine that energy, claiming it as my own. I sealed the battleground, built the foundation of the desolate god region atop it, and simply let it sit, untouched by my hand.
Over time, that battleground became known throughout the beyond realm as one of the rare places capable of withstanding a clash between true peak-turn beings. Many sought to seize it, to study what made it possible — all failed. The golden statue repelled every attempt, injuring any being bold enough to try force. Eventually, the true peak-turns beings reached a shared conclusion: this wonderland could not be seized. They named it the desolate land.
From then on, the desolate land became the arena where true peak-turns armies clashed to decide the fates of their worlds — though no being ever made it their home. Countless warriors from both sides fell there, their energy absorbed into the land and refined by the golden statue, which I, in turn, drew from to keep growing. That statue proved to be the greatest blessing I never expected. My power climbed steadily until I touched the true peak-turns realm myself.
Eventually I understood — the golden statue wasn't just a relic. It was an ultimate technique, left behind deliberately by the Eighth Peak-Turns being for me to comprehend and wield. I began studying it in earnest, and managed to grasp 80% of its depth, enough to elevate me instantly to the second peak-turns level. At that point, I needed a new body to carry me forward — so I built one, modeled after the golden statue's form. That body alone let me withstand a full, unrestrained assault from a third peak-turns being.
After that confrontation, I claimed the desolate land as mine and vanished with it for years. What had once been a battlefield slowly became my domain, fully under my control. I studied the blood of peak-turns beings left behind there, and with the golden statue's aid, came to understand their power and their origins. From there, I began hunting weaker peak-turns beings myself, sacrificing them to absorb their strength. Other powerful peak-turns beings tried, more than once, to intervene — but the golden statue turned them back every time. That's why the desolate god region still looks, to this day, like the ruins of a battlefield where absolute beings once collided.
The seedlings sat in stunned amazement, having never imagined an artifact of such impossible power could exist at that level. The desolate god let out a low laugh and told them to extend their spiritual senses across the space. They did — and what greeted them was unmistakable, the very golden statue they'd just witnessed within the memory itself.