The celestial abode was in ruins.
Sylvia’s trembling hands pressed against the gaping wound on her side, warm blood seeping through her fingers as she struggled to steady her breath. Around her, the once-pristine halls of the Angelic Dominion, carved from enchanted silver and gold, now lay cracked and broken, shimmering fragments strewn across the scorched ground. The air was thick with the scent of ash and divine energy, a sickly combination that made her stomach churn.
She leaned against the splintered remains of a golden pillar, her legs threatening to give out. Her brilliant white wings, now bloodied and torn, shuddered as she fought to focus. Just ahead, she could see the battlefield—the center of the celestial palace where her master, E the Radiant, stood against the hooded figure.
E moved like a dancer, her golden spear spinning in her hands as she deflected blow after blow. The hooded figure was relentless, their movements sharp and calculated, each strike forcing E further onto the defensive. The hum of sealing magic coated the air, an oppressive force that nullified the radiant celestial energy E was known for.
Sylvia’s gaze shifted briefly to the massive corpse lying just beyond the combatants. Fafnir, the golden dragon king, lay in a pool of his own blood, his immense, headless body sprawled across the broken courtyard. His severed head rested nearby, tongue lolling out grotesquely. Beside it sat the First Knight, the second strongest warrior of the Angelic Dominion. His armor was cracked and smeared with blood, and his left arm and leg were gone, lost in the ferocious battle that had claimed the dragon. Yet even in his broken state, the knight remained alert, his sharp eyes trained on the duel before him.
Sylvia felt a pang of guilt as she took in the sight of him. He had given everything to protect them, to kill one of the six dragon kings, and here she was, too weak to do anything but watch.
The hooded figure’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and mechanical, like the sound of gears grinding in perfect harmony. "Your resistance is admirable, Radiant Avatar. But futile. You cannot fight what you do not understand."
E’s spear lashed out in response, its golden edge slicing through the air toward the figure’s neck. They sidestepped the blow with ease, their cloaked form moving like a shadow.
"You wield your weapon with grace, but no amount of martial prowess will change your fate," the hooded figure continued, their tone almost mocking. "This world is already unraveling, and you cling to it like a child clutching a broken toy."
E’s voice, calm but edged with steel, rang out. "Who are you to decide the fate of this world? Why have you done this—attacked the Dominion, enslaved Fafnir? What purpose does your destruction serve?"
The hooded figure tilted their head slightly, as if considering the question. "Purpose?" they echoed, their voice laced with a quiet amusement. "You mistake me for a leader, an architect of chaos. I am but a servant—a harbinger of what is to come."
E’s eyes narrowed. "Who do you serve?"
The figure paused, their gloved hand tightening around the hilt of their blade. "The Kaos Clan," they said finally. "We are the hands that guide this world to its end. A world cleansed of noise, of suffering, of life itself. Only silence will remain."
Sylvia’s heart clenched as the words sank in. Kaos Clan… silence… what kind of madness is this?
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E’s spear spun once more, the blade aimed directly at the figure’s heart. "And Fafnir?" she demanded. "The dragon kings bow to no one. How did you bring him under your control?"
The figure’s laugh was soft, yet it carried a weight that sent chills down Sylvia’s spine. "Fafnir, arrogant to the end, believed himself untouchable. But even dragons can be swayed… with the right incentives."
E pressed forward, her spear a blur of motion as it clashed against the figure’s blade. Sparks flew with each collision, the sound ringing through the ruined palace. "You speak of endings and silence," E said, her voice steady even as sweat glistened on her brow. "But you’re nothing more than a puppet, dancing on strings you don’t even see."
The hooded figure’s movements faltered for the briefest moment, and Sylvia thought she saw a flicker of something—pain, anger, perhaps?—beneath the shadow of their hood. But it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Believe what you will, Radiant Avatar," they said quietly. "It changes nothing. The Day of No Sun draws near, and your Middle Realms will crumble beneath the shadow of the Black Dragon of Annihilation. Your precious unity is already broken. Even now, the Elven Avatar serves as our pawn."
Sylvia’s eyes widened in horror. The Elven Avatar… manipulated? She thought of James and his master, A, the Human Avatar. They had been dealing with the elves and their sudden aggression. Could it all be connected to this hooded figure? To the Kaos Clan?
But before E could respond, the air shifted.
Sylvia felt it immediately—a crushing aura unlike anything she had ever experienced. It slammed into her like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from her lungs. Around her, the injured angels cried out in alarm, their wings trembling as they struggled to withstand the overwhelming pressure.
E froze mid-strike, her spear hovering inches from the hooded figure’s chest. The hooded figure stiffened as well, their head snapping toward the horizon. A faint rumble echoed through the air, growing louder with each passing second.
Sylvia’s breath hitched as the oppressive aura slammed into her, stealing the air from her lungs. It was like nothing she had ever felt before—raw, untamed, and suffocating. It bore down on her like a tidal wave, relentless and overwhelming. Her hands trembled, gripping the cracked marble floor to keep herself steady as her wings drooped behind her, battered and torn.
Her heart pounded as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. She knew this aura. She had felt it before, on the island where everything had gone so horribly wrong. Back then, it had been monstrous, primal, but this... this was on an entirely different scale.
The god-beast.