When a God of Destruction Was Reincarnated in Tensura:

Time had passed, and the people of the Cardinal World were beginning to adjust to the presence of the Keepers. At first, their descent had shaken the entire world—faith was solidified, doubts were shattered, and fear of divine retribution spread like wildfire. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the people slowly returned to their natural routines.

Some felt an unparalleled sense of security, knowing that beings of divine authority now watched over them. They prayed to the Keepers, offering thanks for their protection, their justice, and their guidance. Cities flourished, trade routes became safer, and conflict seemed to dwindle.

Others felt a newfound peace, knowing that corruption and tyranny would no longer go unchecked. Leaders ruled more cautiously, aware that the eyes of gods were upon them. Kings and nobles who once acted on greed now hesitated, fearing that their ambitions would lead to their downfall.

But there were also those who saw the Keepers' watchful presence as a threat—a force that could snuff out their ambitions at a moment's notice. Greedy merchants whispered in back rooms, nobles and warlords schemed behind closed doors, and those with hunger for power, wealth, and status sought ways to evade the divine judgment looming over them.

Even with gods watching, humans would always be humans.

In Tempest, life thrived under Rimuru's reign. His return had been met with celebrations, festivals, and a renewed sense of purpose among his people. Shuna, Shion, and Chloe remained close, ensuring that Tempest continued to flourish.

Yet, Rimuru noticed a growing unease in certain corners of the city. Some foreign merchants, envoys, and even a few nobles from surrounding nations had become wary. While they pretended to bow in reverence, whispers spread in the shadows.

"The new gods… they see everything."

"Can we truly expand our influence with them watching?"

"If they rule over balance, does that mean we can no longer scheme?"

Rimuru smirked. "You think balance means inaction? Fools."

He tightened his observation over those who plotted, letting them feel the pressure of his gaze. The moment they dared to act against Tempest's harmony, he would crush them.

Among the demons in Guy's domain, there was growing tension. While Guy had crushed the initial infighting, his absence from direct ruling had led to new factions rising in the shadows.

Some demons began to whisper among themselves:

"The Crimson King has become… passive."

"He watches, but he does not act. Perhaps… he grows complacent?"

"Maybe it's time for a new era."

Guy let out a low chuckle as he listened from his throne.

"Oh? You think I'm complacent? You think I don't see you?"

With a flick of his fingers, his divine aura spread like wildfire, silencing the whispers in an instant. Those who had been scheming felt their very souls tremble under his overwhelming presence.

"Go on," he whispered. "I dare you to make a move."

None did. They knew—Guy might be watching, but that didn't mean he wouldn't act.

In the Dragon Kingdom, Milim had returned to adoration and celebration. Midray and her dragon followers revered her as their absolute sovereign, and her presence alone was enough to keep order.

But unlike others, Milim noticed something different among certain groups of humans and demi-humans in her land.

They weren't afraid.

They were curious.

Some scholars, mages, and alchemists had begun to study the Keepers' presence, trying to understand their divine power. Books were written about them, theories were formed, and some even began researching if their power could be replicated.

Milim tilted her head as she listened to the scholars discuss their findings.

"Trying to copy us? Hmm… this could be fun!"

She decided not to intervene—for now. Let them play their games of knowledge. If they went too far, she would remind them what a true celestial force was.

In Ruberios, the Church of Luminous had reached new heights of devotion. With her true divinity confirmed, many flocked to her temples in worship. Faith was stronger than ever… but there was also a growing divide.

Some followers saw her as an untouchable celestial force, to be revered but never questioned. Others believed she was still a ruler with flaws, one that should still be held accountable for her decisions.

Even within her holy order, priests and knights debated among themselves.

Hinata, as always, was Luminous' most devoted warrior, but even she had sensed the growing tension.

"What do you want me to do, Luminous?" she asked.

Luminous smirked. "Let them argue. Let them question. Faith without doubt is meaningless."

She would let them struggle with their own beliefs, knowing that in the end, her divinity would be undeniable.

In El Dorado, Leon Cromwell had maintained absolute order and justice. But among the noble elite, greed was never truly extinguished.

Despite Leon's divine presence, there were whispers of secret deals, attempts to consolidate wealth, and those who still sought power beyond what was given.

Leon saw them all.

"Even in the face of divinity, you cling to your foolish ambitions?"

He did not strike them down—yet. Instead, he let his golden aura brush against them, a silent reminder that he was always watching.

And when the time came, judgment would be swift.

In Celesterra, magic flourished under Ramiris' watch. But among the ancient scholars, some had begun seeking something dangerous—knowledge that was never meant to be touched.

Some delved into the lost magics of Azazel, trying to uncover remnants of the abyss. They believed that if the Keepers could ascend, then perhaps others could too.

Ramiris furrowed her brows. "You idiots… playing with fire."

Ivarage stood beside her, watching as these scholars obsessed over forbidden tomes and rituals.

"Should we stop them?" Ivarage asked.

Ramiris sighed. "Not yet. They haven't done anything stupid… yet."

But she made a mental note: The moment they crossed the line, she would erase every trace of that knowledge.

Draguel, the Keeper of Time, had seen the future shift in unpredictable ways. Some futures were bright. Others… were not.

He could sense it—a disturbance growing within the Cardinal World. Not from an external force, not from an unknown enemy, but from within the hearts of mortals themselves.

His brother, Glassord, stood beside him. "Do you think it will come to war again?"

Draguel closed his eyes. "Perhaps not war. But something is coming. Something inevitable."

He would not act yet. But when the time came, he would be ready.

For now, the Keepers watched. Some found peace, others found amusement, and a few saw the growing seeds of defiance.

Balance had been restored to the Cardinal World.

But balance is fragile.

And soon, the world would test it once again.

Then years have passed,

As the Keepers observed the Cardinal World, each maintaining their own methods of overseeing balance, a presence far beyond their comprehension stirred.

From his throne beyond existence, Beerus watched.

He saw the Keepers wielding their newfound divine authority—some wisely, others… more recklessly. He saw Rimuru's ever-watchful eye over Tempest, Guy's crushing dominance over his demons, and Leon's silent intimidation over his golden empire. He saw Luminous allowing faith to divide, Ramiris carefully monitoring forbidden knowledge, and Draguel foreseeing a disturbance in the flow of time.

Their efforts were commendable, but they had yet to understand the true nature of divinity.

They were still thinking like kings.

Like rulers.

But a Keeper was not a ruler.

A Keeper was a force. A guide. A guardian of balance.

Beerus knew they needed to learn this lesson, and so, he summoned his messenger.

The Herald of the Supreme: Zephandros, The Silver Harbinger

The void of reality shook as Zephandros, The Silver Harbinger, was called forth.

Zephandros was not just any servant. He was an ancient, a being woven from the very essence of the divine edicts Beerus had established.

His form was ethereal yet solid—a towering figure adorned in ornate silver armor that reflected the cosmos itself. His face was concealed beneath a flawless, expressionless silver mask with no eyes, no mouth—only the impression of divinity.

A flowing cloak of pure astral energy drifted behind him, shifting between the colors of twilight and dawn. His voice, when spoken, was not a sound but a decree—absolute, undeniable, unwavering.

He knelt before Beerus, his head bowed in reverence.

"I am called, and I shall deliver."

Beerus gave a nod, his gaze filled with omniscient authority.

"Go to the Keepers of the Cardinal World. Remind them of what they are."

Zephandros rose, extending a hand as a silver portal manifested before him.

With a single step, he descended into the Cardinal World.

Across the entire Cardinal World, time itself seemed to pause as an unfamiliar, overwhelming presence spread through every nation, every city, every kingdom.

The air hummed with an energy no mortal could comprehend. The sky shimmered, as if the very fabric of reality was bending to accommodate something beyond its understanding.

And then—he appeared.

Zephandros, The Silver Harbinger, materialized at the very center of the Grand Cathedral in Ruberios, where the Keepers had gathered for a meeting.

The moment he arrived, the air turned dense with an immeasurable divine pressure—not aggressive, not hostile, but undeniable. A presence above even the Keepers themselves.

The Keepers, powerful as they were, immediately understood.

This was Beerus' will made manifest.

Zephandros stood before them, his silver mask reflecting their own forms as if showing them the reality they had yet to accept.

He raised a single hand, and his voice—neither loud nor soft, neither spoken nor heard—commanded the air itself.

"By decree of the Supreme Deity, I bring forth his message."

The Keepers stood in silence, listening.

"You have taken your first steps into divinity," Zephandros began, his voice resonating through existence itself.

"You wield power beyond mortality, yet your minds remain tethered to the ways of rulers, kings, and conquerors."

His head tilted slightly, the silver mask glinting under the ethereal glow of the Cathedral's holy light.

"This is not your purpose. This is not your function."

His words were absolute.

"A divinity does not rule as a king, nor does it govern as a sovereign. A divinity is balance incarnate. A divinity does not take the throne of men, nor the seat of rulers."

Zephandros' presence expanded, surrounding them in the sheer enormity of Beerus' truth.

"You cannot directly interfere with the mortal world as rulers, nor dictate their fates like tyrants. You are no longer kings, no longer emperors, no longer warlords or judges in the way you once were."

He turned his faceless mask toward each of them.

"If you seek to truly be divine, you must change how you act."

A pause. The weight of his decree settled upon them.

Then he continued:

"Balance must be upheld, but it is not your hand that must force it. You must become what is necessary—not as kings who command, but as forces that guide."

His tone became sharper, filled with divine judgment.

"If you attempt to reign as rulers, you will bring imbalance."

His voice carried the full weight of Beerus' omnipotence.

"If you fail to understand this truth, you will be stripped of your divinity."

The Keepers remained silent, absorbing every word.

Zephandros slowly lowered his hand.

"You must decide. How will you guide this world?"

He then took a step back, folding his hands before him.

The divine pressure lessened, allowing the Keepers to breathe fully once more.

Rimuru narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. "So we must find another way… one that does not involve direct rule."

Luminous folded her arms, clearly contemplating. "I suppose a god cannot be bound by a throne."

Leon exhaled slowly. "So we cannot directly interfere, yet we must still uphold balance."

Milim pouted. "Tch. This is complicated."

Draguel, the Watcher of Time, closed his eyes. "Balance… must be maintained without tyranny. I see."

Ramiris floated, arms crossed. "So we need to think like gods, not kings. Got it."

Guy's smirk slowly widened. "Heh. Interesting. This just got a lot more fun."

The message had been received. They could no longer act as rulers—but that did not mean they were powerless.

They had to think differently. Act differently.

They had to become something greater.

Zephandros, satisfied, took one final look at them.

"You have heard the Supreme Deity's decree. The choice of how you fulfill your roles… is yours."

With that, he turned and vanished into a silver light, leaving them to ponder their next steps.

Now, they had to make a choice.

Would they create divine laws and enforce them from afar?

Would they establish messengers, avatars, or chosen champions to act in their stead?

Would they shape the flow of fate itself, ensuring balance without direct interference?

Would they build sacred orders, guiding mortals through faith and wisdom?

They did not know yet.

But what they did know was this: they were no longer rulers.

They were Keepers of the Cardinal World.

And now, they would truly begin to act as gods.