E tightened her grip on her spear, golden light pooling at its tip. "What are you?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the unnatural stillness.
The figure didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his grin widened—an impossible, grotesque stretch that split his face in half. It was as if his flesh would tear apart at any moment, revealing the abyss beneath. Slowly, his mouth began to open, distorting unnaturally as an eerie, hollow laugh spilled forth.
"Hhh-ha… Hhh-ha-ha… HHH-HA-HAAAAA!"
The laughter echoed through the ruins, each note grating and warped, as if a thousand broken voices were trying to harmonize. It twisted the air, sent shivers through Sylvia’s bones, and made her wings tremble uncontrollably. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay standing, even as her legs threatened to give out.
The figure’s voice followed, layered with the same chilling distortion. "Let’s see… let’s see how your precious Dominion fares... when nothing remains. HHHHAAAAAA!"
His mouth widened further, splitting almost to his neck, revealing a swirling void within. The black emptiness churned, coalescing into a sphere of destruction. It grew rapidly, distorting the very air with its gravitational pull. Stones, broken pieces of the celestial platform, and even the shimmering fragments of angelic weapons were drawn toward it, crumbling to dust before reaching its surface.
E’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. "Angels, scatter! Now!"
The remaining angels, some injured and barely standing, heeded her order and took flight, retreating to the edges of the battlefield. Sylvia stumbled, her body barely responding to her will, but she pushed herself to her feet and limped toward cover, refusing to let fear immobilize her.
The hooded figure laughed, his distorted voice echoing unnervingly.
E didn’t hesitate. With a sharp motion, her aura surged again as she activated her teleportation technique. In a flash, she appeared above the hooded figure, her spear glowing with radiant light.
"Not here," she growled, her voice cold and determined.
Before he could react, she slammed her spear into his side, the impact causing a spatial ripple. The hooded figure and his destructive sphere vanished, teleported high into the skies above the celestial abode.
Sylvia craned her neck upward, her vision blurry from the strain of her injuries. She could see the faint outline of the figure, far above the wreckage, the black sphere of destruction in his mouth still growing.
And then it detonated.
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The sky turned black as the explosion ripped through the heavens. A deafening roar echoed across the celestial domain, shaking the floating city to its core. The blast lit up the night like a second sun, its shockwave sending tremors through the already crumbling abode.
Sylvia shielded her eyes, her wings instinctively wrapping around her body to protect her. When the blinding light faded, she looked up again, her heart racing.
The hooded figure was gone. Nothing remained in the sky but the dissipating remnants of his chaotic energy.
E hovered in the air for a moment, her golden aura dimmed but steady. She descended slowly, landing amidst the ruins of the celestial platform. Her face was calm, but there was a sharp edge to her gaze, a silent fury beneath her composed exterior.
Sylvia staggered forward, her voice weak. "Master… is it over?"
E glanced at her but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she turned to the gathered angels, many of whom were wounded or barely conscious. Her voice carried across the broken battlefield, firm and commanding.
"Everyone, listen carefully. Tend to the wounded immediately. Gather the remaining forces and prepare for a meeting in the Secret Court. We need to regroup and decide our next steps."
The First Knight, slumped against the head of Fafnir’s massive, decapitated body, gave a weary nod. Despite his grievous injuries, he forced himself to rise slightly. "Understood… but we’re scattered, E. Half our forces are gone."
"We’ll make do with what we have," E replied curtly, her spear vanishing from her hand as she turned her gaze toward the horizon. The oppressive auras from the Scorching Badlands lingered in her mind, a constant reminder of the challenges yet to come.
Sylvia took a shaky step forward. "Master, what was that man? And… and the god-beast…"
E’s jaw tightened, her expression unreadable. "Both are harbingers of what’s to come. This isn’t just a war between nations anymore, Sylvia. The balance of the Middle Realms is shifting, and we must prepare for the worst."
Sylvia swallowed hard, her fists clenched at her sides. Despite the fear that still gripped her, a flicker of determination burned within her chest. She wouldn’t run this time. She couldn’t.
"I’ll be ready," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.
E’s golden eyes softened slightly as she glanced at her student. "See that you are. This is only the beginning."
+
Arthur stared, his molten pupils narrowing as his massive frame stood still, locked in an uneasy standoff. Before him loomed Volcranax—a volcanic wyrm of impossible size and power. The beast’s head alone was nearly twice his size, its vast bulk extending into the cavernous, fiery abyss below. The slitted eyes of the ancient creature glowed faintly, pulsating like magma as they locked onto him with an unsettling stillness.
It’s big. Too big.
The system chimed in his mind, its interface flickering into view as he activated his enhanced [Analyze] function. The Codex of Creation’s third eye burned faintly in the middle of his forehead, its presence amplifying the ability with detailed insights.
Name: Volcranax
Age: 500 years
Size: 400 feet (head); Length: Unknown
Stage: Peak Third Stage
Element: Fire/Lava
Title: New Titan of Fire (Ascending)
Weakness: Eyes (Primary)
Arthur’s molten veins pulsed, glowing faintly beneath his obsidian armor. The system’s cold efficiency did little to quell the creeping unease that crept along his massive spine. The wyrm wasn’t just bigger—it was ancient, experienced, and, worst of all, calm. Too calm.
The wyrm’s head tilted slightly, its gigantic maw remaining closed. The silence stretched, oppressive and deliberate. Then, finally, it spoke.
"I smell my children’s blood in you."
The voice rumbled, impossibly deep and deliberate, each syllable drawn out like the groaning of tectonic plates. "You... ate them?"