Chapter 47 — The Sovereign’s True Face

The ruins trembled. Dust spiraled upward as the Sovereign rose from the crater Kael had hurled it into. The cracks along its body glowed like molten seams, but its voice was calm, almost amused.

“You should not exist… and yet, you dare to wound me.”

Its chains dissolved into shadow, merging into its form. The once-bound god began to shift, its shape distorting until the figure towered higher, its presence pressing down like the weight of a collapsing sky.

The girl gasped, clutching Kael’s arm.
“It’s changing—!”

Kael forced himself to stand. His legs trembled, the blade in his hand flickering between fire and void. Every heartbeat threatened to extinguish it, yet he held on.

The Sovereign’s voice rumbled like thunder.
“This world will not tolerate an anomaly. If you persist, I will erase even the memory of your rebellion.”

Chains surged out again, but now they weren’t steel or shadow—they were belief itself, the weight of centuries of myth solidified into bindings. They crashed down, shaking the earth, driving fissures through stone and sky alike.

Kael raised the fractured blade. Each impact shook his body to the core. Sparks of distortion scattered into the air, splitting the battlefield into shards of broken space.

“Erase me all you like,” Kael growled, forcing one foot forward. His shadow stretched unnaturally long, twisting beneath him. “If this world rejects me… then I’ll carve open a place where I belong.”

The unstable sword screamed as he swung, scattering the incoming chains. For a moment, light and shadow collided so violently that the ruins looked like a world on fire.

The girl cried out, her voice cutting through the storm.
“Kael! The blade is breaking—!”

Indeed, the weapon’s edges fractured mid-swing, flickering into fragments of flame. It was no longer a sword but a storm of half-formed light, eating away at him even as he fought.

The Sovereign stepped forward through the chaos, its eyes burning with contempt.
“Then vanish, counterfeit. Let the toll claim what was never yours.”

Kael’s vision blurred. He felt himself fading, each strike of the toll gnawing at his existence. Yet he gripped the collapsing weapon tighter, forcing its unstable fire to remain.

“If this is what it takes…” His voice was a whisper, a vow.
“Then I’ll let the toll burn me out—so long as it takes you down with me.”

The Sovereign’s chains gathered into one colossal strike, descending like judgment itself.

Kael lifted the fractured blade one last time.

The air went silent—holding its breath for the clash to come.