The Black Dragon was dead. Truly, finally, irrevocably gone.
What followed was silence—a silence so deep, it echoed through the hearts of those who had survived. And when the silence faded, celebration roared in to take its place.
Orario, One Week Later:
Banners fluttered in the breeze. Fireworks lit the sky in bursts of color and music. Gods and mortals alike spilled into the streets, drinking, laughing, crying.
The heroes had returned.
Bell Cranel walked through the crowd with a dumbstruck expression, a dozen bouquets tucked under one arm, and a small mob of elated kids following him. Women reached out to touch his hand. Old men clapped him on the back. Poets had already started calling him Bell the Dawnbringer.
Beside him walked Harry Potter, robes half-open, shirt unbuttoned again, and a mug of enchanted coffee floating behind him as a trail of roses bloomed in his wake. The women of Orario were thirsting after him, and Harry—completely ignoring it—just yawned.
They passed by Leon, who had one arm thrown around a student from the School District as they waited for the flying fortress—a floating citadel lined with enchanted sails and glowing engines.
"Leaving already?" Harry asked.
Leon smirked. "Can't keep the school waiting. I'll keep training the next generation. Someone's gotta make sure they don't get eaten by moss wolves on their first quest."
Harry offered his hand. "You did good, Thunderbolt."
Leon grinned and clasped it hard. "Don't die in that pit, Potter."
The great ship rumbled to life, rising slowly into the clouds. The entire School District waved down as it ascended.
And Harry... watched quietly, until they vanished.
Later That Night:
Bell stood on a balcony, watching the fireworks fade into stars.
Behind him, soft footsteps approached.
He turned—and froze.
Freya, in a silver dress that shimmered like moonlight, walked up to him. There was no haughtiness in her gaze. No obsession. Just... warmth only a lover could project.
"I saw the way you looked at the sky," she said.
Bell opened his mouth to speak—but she raised a hand.
"I know what love looks like, Bell Cranel. And for once, I won't take it by force."
She knelt and held out a ring of white gold—a single phoenix feather was etched on its surface.
"This time… I'm just asking. Will you marry me?"
Bell looked at her with his own overwhelming amount of love for her.
He smiled.
"Yes."
Elsewhere, in a Quiet Garden:
Harry sat on a stone bench. Around him lounged his harem—a group as chaotic as it was powerful.
Ais leaned against a tree, blade across her knees. Ryuu sat with a book open, glancing at Harry over the pages. Hestia and Loki argued about who kissed him better. Riveria had her head on his shoulder, watching the moon.
"I'm going there," Harry said.
That quieted them all.
"Back to the Dungeon?" Ais asked.
"All the way," he nodded. "I'm close. I can feel it. I max out one or two more stats... I'll break the wall to Level 10. I have to know what lies at the bottom. The real bottom."
"Alone?" Ryuu whispered.
"I have to," Harry replied. "Whatever's down there... it's not meant for gods or armies. Just me. If I make it back—drinks are on me."
"You better," Hephaistos said, punching his arm.
They didn't cry. They didn't cling.
They simply held him a little longer.
Later,
Harry stood before the entrance to the dungeon, his black cloak billowing in a nonexistent breeze. His sword hung at his side.
He slowly and methodically envisioned the location he wanted to port to.
"Floor 90."
A number no sane man ever wanted to hear when talking about the dungeon floors. The Hellscape.
A moment later he was gone in the Dungeon.
The crystals around him glowed. The hum of ancient magic rose.
He whispered, "Time to break the last limit."
Floor 90 – The Hellscape:
A storm of ash greeted him. The sky was blood-red. Jagged mountains floated midair, chained together by gravity-defying tendrils of stone. Volcanoes burst in the distance. Creatures of shadow stalked between ancient, forgotten ruins.
Magic choked the air.
Harry stood alone.
And smiled.
"Let's see if there's a god waiting at the bottom."
He stepped forward.
And the Dungeon trembled.
-------------------------------------------
The Hellscape was behind him.
From the 90th to the 99th floor, Harry Potter had carved his path through horrors the gods themselves whispered about in half-remembered tales. His fists shattered obsidian monsters. His will cracked open ancient ruins. His laughter echoed as storms tried and failed to erase him.
And now…
He stood at the entrance to Floor 100.
It wasn't a gate or a tunnel.
It was a mirror—of himself, of the world, of everything really.
The moment he stepped through it, the air stilled. His Falna—his mark of blessing—ignited.
A silent whisper passed through the world.
"You have reached the end of mortal growth. Transcendence awaits."
His stats, long since beyond the threshold of sanity, aligned. The code of the gods—the system of Falna—broke and rewrote itself to make room for him.
Harry didn't fall unconscious.
He laughed.
His body glowed, light and magic pouring from him in streams, wings of white and black unfolding from his back, halo and scythe rotating behind him like planetary rings.
He wasn't just a god now.
He was Balance Incarnate.
Life. Creation. Endings. Beginnings.
Harry had become the personification of Life and Creation, balancing his Death out.
The first flame and the last spark.
A being above gods. The world's anchor and its promise.
And at the very center of the final floor… was a door.
He opened it.
Light poured out—divine, eternal, golden.
He stepped in.
What he saw was...
…boring as hell.
Gods reclining in eternal gardens. Petty squabbles over prayers. Endless parties with no flavor.
"I'd rather punch the sun than sit in a toga for eternity," Harry muttered.
He walked out.
Closed the door behind him.
And with a flick of his hand—
Locked it.
"Yeah. I'm good."
Orario – One Week Later:
The entire city was on edge.
A rumble had echoed from the deep. A message had passed through the city of Orario and the World, like thunder:
"Harry Potter has reached Level 10."
"A god has been born from among mortals."
But no one knew if he'd return.
Until a flash of silver light split the sky—
—and Harry appeared, lounging on a floating disc of starlight, conjuring coffee and a croissant with one hand.
The moment his feet touched the ground—
twelve women tackled him.
"YOU IDIOT!" yelled Hermione, smacking his chest. "You could've died!"
"Mmhm," Yoruichi purred, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "And here I thought you liked us."
"Was the bottom really worth leaving us hanging for?" Fleur asked with narrowed eyes.
Harry grinned. "I saw Tenkai."
"What was it like?" asked Daphne.
He made a gagging sound. "Imagine a tea party… hosted by philosophers with no alcohol."
The others groaned.
Kaguya stepped forward, silent and regal. "You have changed again."
Harry touched her cheek. "So have you, my Moon."
Ryuu leaned against the doorway. "So… what now?"
Now, they packed that week.
Hestia wept and laughed as she folded old Familia banners. Hephaistos forged one last gift—a sword that glowed like a star. Loki stole kisses when she thought no one looked. Ais, quiet as always, simply held his hand and refused to let go.
They had lived. Loved. Fought. Laughed, many many times.
But now?
Now it was time to go beyond.
To seek new worlds, new adventures. Maybe even new universes.
Harry stood at the gates of Orario, his wives gathered behind him, his cloak fluttering.
One last time, he turned back.
The city was quiet.
Watching.
He raised a hand in farewell—
—and with a single pulse of magic, teleported them all away.
Back to his Dimension.