I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 148 – Fractured Sky and Trembling Gods

In the highest dimension far above the skies known to mortals stretches a silent expanse without walls, without time, without direction. This place is not part of the world. It is the weaving thread of existence, where gods and goddesses reside not with bodies, but with pure will.

Usually, this space is silent. Silent like an ancient stone awaiting erosion, like a blank manuscript before fate is written.

But today, that silence was fractured by a whisper.

A faint tremor, sharp enough to make every divine consciousness within turn, had slipped in. A tremor from something unwritten. Undesigned. Unwanted.

A foreign will. An existence no longer bound.

And from the edge of that divine space, a goddess’s voice broke like the first crack in a sacred mirror.

"Damn it... how can she be back?" said Xynareth, Goddess of the Void, her voice trembling for the first time in thousands of years. "I sealed her path. The route to that world was locked tight! She shouldn’t have been able to return!"

The light within that sacred realm flickered. Five other gods and goddesses turned toward her, their metaphysical faces etched with barely concealed unease. They were half of the Twelve six of the divine rulers who had rejected the new method. The method of gathering faith through illusion, where heroes were never meant to win, and demon kings were nothing but puppets.

Now, that method teetered on the edge of ruin.

Velgrath, God of Eternal Night, stepped forward. His eyes pulsed like black holes. He spoke in a voice incomprehensible to ordinary beings.

"I felt the fracture. The sealed path has reopened... not from an outside force, but from the world itself. The world called her back. The world... chose her."

Nerys, Goddess of the Tides, stood beside him. Her voice was like the midnight sea smooth, yet biting.

"And she answered. Sylvia, the queen of death you cast out has returned. Not alone. She brought with her... thousands of souls you once locked away."

Korthan, God of War and Eternal Flame, growled. His breath shook the divine realm like embers ready to explode.

"They’re zombies. Rotten creatures that once decimated half this world. We said we sealed them for balance, but in truth we were afraid. And now they’re free. FREE. Do you understand what that means, Xynareth?"

The Goddess of the Void said nothing. She clenched her teeth a rare symbol of emotion in pure divine form.

Olmerath, God of the Border Between Life and Death, folded his arms. The gray aura surrounding him pulsed erratically.

"The gates between life and death are shaking. Balance is at risk. The world didn’t just call her... it allowed her to take control."

And lastly, Zha’gor, God of Beginning and End, spoke. He didn’t appear angry like the others, but his voice carried the weight of time and the will of change.

"She is part of this world. It was you who cast her out. Not her choice, not her will. Now, the world has welcomed her back... and handed her a throne you never wrote."

Xynareth looked at them all. Gods and goddesses who, like her, held power to shape the laws of reality yet now behaved as if control had slipped from their grasp.

"We can’t allow this," she hissed. "If she takes over this world... all our plans, all the faith structures we’ve built... will collapse again!"

"So?" Velgrath replied flatly. "We’ll repeat the same false cycle? Fake heroes? Puppet demon kings strung up so humanity will worship us for ’salvation’? The world’s had enough."

Xynareth was about to retort, but another fracture split the divine space. This one wasn’t from outside... but from within. A surge of power erupted from the world below from an ancient castle meant to be forgotten.

Zha’gor turned, his expression hardening.

"She has taken the throne."

"She hasn’t even declared herself a Demon King," Olmerath whispered, "but the world already acknowledges her."

Korthan slammed his palm against the ground of the sacred space. Red flames burst from cracks in reality.

"We must send our hero now! Before she fortifies her bastion!"

"And send them to what?" Nerys snapped. "To die? We made weak heroes because they were just symbols not weapons. And now you want them to face someone the world itself has embraced?"

Xynareth gritted her teeth again. The void behind her back began swirling like a black hole.

"Then we’ll descend the world’s avatar. Force her back into neutrality."

Zha’gor looked at her, and for the first time... his eyes narrowed.

"You truly don’t understand, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Zha’gor raised his hand. In his palm appeared a shard of light a recording from the world showing the moment the world’s avatar appeared in the human city and spoke:

"The Demon King has risen once more in this world. The silence you cherished... has ended."

All the gods and goddesses stared silently at the fragment.

Zha’gor closed his hand. The image vanished.

"The avatar of the world... has already chosen."

And among them all, only one laughed softly.

Velgrath.

"This drama... has finally become real. And the ones the world speaks of aren’t the mortals below it’s us."

Velgrath’s laughter faded, but the shadow it left behind still echoed through the divine realm.

But even though the world had recognized Sylvia, even though the avatar had spoken and declared her role silently, the six gods and goddesses could not give up.

They must not give up.

"No," Xynareth said at last, her voice low and biting. "Even if the world chooses her... we can still balance this stage."

"With what? Empty hope?" Korthan asked sharply.

"With symbols," Xynareth replied. "With a narrative deeply rooted in human consciousness: that heroes always rise, evil always falls, and light always wins in the end."

"She’s not ’evil,’" Nerys snapped. "She’s... simply not part of our plan."

"Which is precisely what we’ll use," Olmerath said slowly. "We only need to throw one seed into the fire. The world may acknowledge Sylvia... but humanity has not fully yielded. They still need belief. And we’ll give it to them."

"The hero team is already prepared," Zha’gor murmured, almost regretfully. "The best we could assemble on short notice."

"Not the best," Velgrath corrected, with a bitter grin. "The most exploitable."

In an instant, a portion of the divine space opened like a window into the world below. There, in snowy mountains, a young man stood atop a cliff, clad in white robes with a glowing longsword on his back. Behind him stood a group healers, warriors, archers, and mages a full adventuring team.

The new heroes.

Untouched by reality.Unaware of the terror they were about to face.

"His name is Arven," Xynareth whispered. "Half-angel by blood, a direct descendant of the holy race that once bound itself to the heavens. He was born to radiate hope."

"And he will be sent against something that isn’t darkness... but the fate you refused," Zha’gor murmured, the irony in his voice undisguised.

Korthan said nothing. He merely stared at Arven in silence, then placed his palm on his chest.

"Then let this war be a true test," he said. "Not only for the heroes... but for us as well. Who truly deserves to be called divine: the ones who created the stage... or the one summoned by the world itself?"

Outside the divine realm, the sky gradually cleared. But in the deep places of the world, among awakening ley lines and whispers from undead long thought gone, a new story was forming.

Two forces would soon clash.

Not just hero versus demon king...But the will of the gods versus the will of the world.

And as Arven gazed eastward toward the place where Sylvia now rebuilt her castle from the ruins of the past a cold wind stirred, carrying a faint whisper that could’ve come from the sky... or the underworld

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