In the heart of the endless desert, under a sky painted with eternal dusk, Neferirkara Ptolemy stood at the ruins of her kingdom. Once a goddess-queen, beloved and worshipped, she now faced the aftermath of an ancient battle. The silence left by The Conqueror’s Crown had swept across her lands, wiping away her divine empire and leaving behind nothing but forgotten whispers of what once was. Neferirkara’s golden eyes reflected the harsh sun, a fire burning within her as she traced the edges of the vanished temples and pyramids that had once signified her dominion.

She was regal and statuesque, her dark skin kissed by the light of a fading sun, her attire reminiscent of the ancient divine queens who ruled ages ago. Neferirkara was adorned in golden regalia: an intricate tiara rested atop her brow, its filigree patterns coiling like serpents, glinting in the dimming light. Her armor, a flowing garment of silk and lace wrapped around her toned body, was accentuated by metallic arm cuffs and a delicate golden choker. Each piece of her armor was inscribed with runes and hieroglyphs, symbols of power, protection, and kingship from her lost world.

Neferirkara had not been content to simply let her empire die. She had spent her centuries mastering arts long forgotten—beyond-dimensional spells, beyond-pataphysical manipulation, and incantations that could revive the spirits of the old gods. She sought revenge, but she understood the futility of raw strength against the erasure that The Conqueror’s Crown embodied. She had learned from the failures of others like Itzamná and Mimir. She knew that brute force alone would fall to the silence.

With the wisdom of ages, she had devised a new plan. Her body, tempered in the fires of wars that reshaped the Omniverse, was now attuned to powers far greater than she once wielded. She reached out to the void beyond existence, pulling from the fragments of forgotten realms, summoning the echoes of the divine from within her—the echoes of her ancestors, the queens who had ruled, the gods who had perished.

Her goal was not simply to defeat The Conqueror’s Crown, for she knew that was beyond her. Neferirkara was a strategist—an immortal ruler with a mind sharpened by countless battles. She would find a way to confine it, to imprison it once more, as it had been bound ages ago.

The silence approached, spreading through the desert, erasing the very memory of her kingdom, her people, her legacy. Neferirkara stood tall as it reached her, golden tattoos and inscriptions on her skin glowing with the power of a thousand lost deities. She summoned the full breadth of her strength, weaving together spells drawn from ancient scrolls and unspoken wisdom, drawing symbols in the air that radiated with divine energy.

The silence responded, creeping closer, vast and unrelenting. Neferirkara channeled the powers of the old gods, unleashing a torrent of energy—golden beams of light that cut through the fabric of reality, intended to bend the silence to her will. But just as with those before her, her magic collided with nothingness. The silence consumed her attack, rendering it useless.

Neferirkara did not falter. She shifted her approach, using a combination of divine powers and advanced arcane manipulation. Her fingers danced through the air, tracing symbols of hieroglyphic magic, each movement leaving behind golden sigils that shimmered and bent in the face of oblivion. The silence, however, was absolute, swallowing her efforts as if they had never been.

With every passing moment, the divine queen could feel the weight of erasure pressing upon her. Her empire, her people, the gods she had worshipped—all gone. She was alone, standing at the edge of oblivion, the last remnant of a world that had been utterly unmade. And yet, even in the face of certain defeat, she remained resolute.

The silence drew nearer, and Neferirkara’s vision blurred. She felt herself unraveling at the seams, her existence fading into the void. The energy that had once radiated from her began to dissipate, her form flickering as the silence sought to erase her from reality. But in the last moment before oblivion took her, Neferirkara enacted her final spell—a plan she had been preparing since the moment her world fell.

The earth beneath her beautiful feet shifted, ancient runes carved into the stones of her lost kingdom began to glow. She had anticipated this moment. With the last of her strength, she opened a rift—a gateway into the timelessness beyond the Omniverse, where even the silence could not reach. It was not an escape born of fear, but of strategy.

As her body began to fade, Neferirkara stepped into the rift, her form dissolving into golden light. She vanished into the beyond, not defeated, but retreating to fight another day. The silence consumed what remained of her kingdom, but Neferirkara was gone—safe, hidden, and planning her revenge.

She would return, armed with the knowledge of the old gods and the power of the divine queens who came before her. And next time, she would be ready.