Chapter 100 – The Erasure of Gods

The horizon cracked.
Where light once bled, only a pale emptiness remained, carved open by runes that writhed across the sky. Each mark pulsed like a command, rewriting the world with every beat.

The Sigil Bearer stood at the heart of it all—cloaked in a shifting mantle of living scripture, eyes glowing like twin circles of law. Around him, the marshland bent and broke: reeds turned to ash, water spiraled upward into mist, air itself tore apart in jagged lines.

Kael and Aria faced him, shadows stretched long in the false dawn.

“You’ve crawled further than you should have,” the Sigil Bearer said, his voice steady as a verdict. “But prophecy has no room for errors. You are a stain. An absence given shape. A flaw that should never have risen.”

Kael’s grip tightened on his blade. His voice was low, but unshaken.
“Funny. They once called me a hero. Now I’m a flaw? I suppose both are lies written by people like you.”

The Sigil Bearer raised a hand. The sky trembled. Reality split—visions spilling outward in rivers of light:
Kael enthroned in flame, chains of dominion binding whole nations.
Kael drenched in blood, blade rising and falling without end.
Kael standing over Aria’s broken form, eyes hollow, crown of bone upon his head.

Aria gasped, her staff trembling. “Kael… don’t—don’t look at them.”

But Kael’s gaze lingered. Because he knew these weren’t fictions. They were possibilities—roads he might walk, doors he might one day open. And within them, he saw his reflection grinning back at him.

The Sigil Bearer’s voice lowered, almost gentle.
“You see it, don’t you? Every path leads to ruin. Not just for you—but for everything. Let me end this now. Let me erase you before the world pays the cost.”

The marsh buckled. Ground liquefied into black mire, dragging everything toward a pit of nothing. The air howled like a thousand dying prayers.

Kael raised his sword. Shadows coiled along its edge, drawn not from the world—but from the void where his name should have been.
His voice rang out, sharper than the storm:

“Erase me? You’ll have to erase the gods first.”

The sky collapsed. Sigils blazed. Shadow met scripture.
And as steel screamed against divine law, the battlefield was swallowed in light and darkness—an erasure meant not for a man, but for the gods themselves.