The Awakening of Heaven’s Fault

✦ Illusion Two — Phantom Beasts ✦

The floor split.

Jagged cracks tore through the obsidian surface.

And from them — hands. Clawed, jagged, dripping shadow.

The scent of burning stone filled the air, every crack bleeding darkness.

One after another, hulking silhouettes dragged themselves up.

Phantom beasts.
Their jaws gaped too wide.
Eyes burned molten white.

Their stare wasn’t rage — it was recognition twisted into hunger.

They circled me, growling.
I exhaled, shaky, and forced a grin.

Oh great. From emotional trauma straight to a monster buffet. Thanks, tree. Really considerate.

A weapon shimmered in my grip — my training sword.

Wood. Scarred. Pathetic.

…Really?

I focused, breathed, imagined steel.
The wooden blade cracked — and unfolded into a silver sword of flame.

…Better.

Seven in all — each crawling from a different vein of light beneath the glass.

The first beast lunged — and flame answered.
The second leapt — and wind crushed it back.
The third drowned.
The fourth was buried.
The fifth froze midair.
The sixth died to lightning.

The last one, the seventh, did not move — it only watched. Same eyes. Same scars.

Its shape flickered between light and darkness, like my reflection deciding which to become.

And when it breathed, so did I.

The Tree wasn’t showing me enemies. It was showing me everything I refused to face.

You can’t burn what’s already ash, it whispered.

Then it lunged — and I met myself head-on.

The sound vanished — even my heartbeat dared not interrupt.

Fire. Water. Wind. Earth. Lightning. Ice.

Alright then—COME ON!

I slammed the blade down.

BOOM.

Every element exploded in unity — a storm of divinity unleashed.

Fire curled inside frost; lightning wore silence like armor, and the void learned to breathe flame.

✦ The Ripple of All ✦

Every force roared together — harmony and chaos at once.

Flames coiled with frost, thunder bled into silence, and the void itself screamed in color.

The harmony wasn’t meant to last—only to show me what my soul could become.

The world cracked apart, light fracturing into stars.

Dust and silence tangled midair, as if the world itself held its breath.

Behind me: glaciers, storms, ruin — and peace.

I stepped forward.
Each stride left lightning scorched in my wake.

The sword dissolved into sparks.
Only my fists remained — one radiant, one shrouded.

I’m not just a boy. Not just a prince. Not just an heir.
I’m something more.

Not borrowed. Not bestowed. Remembered.

✦ The Second Pulse — The Imbalance of Heaven ✦

The hum became a roar.

The Divine Tree’s veins flared across the skies — and the ten relics answered, not in harmony, but in rebellion.

The Celestial Hall shook.
Light fractured.

Every relic that bore Heaven’s order now twisted against it — their own laws turning inward like broken mirrors.

Across the realms, each Crownkeeper’s sigil flared in tandem, their miniature relics—the wearable echoes of their Crown Oaths—igniting in the same hue as their ancient originals.

The hall-sized relics answered in kind, their light pulsing in rhythm with their bearers, one heartbeat shared between soul and relic.

Across the sanctums, hymns warped mid-note —divine choirs silenced by their own resonance, like Heaven forgetting the words to its oldest song.

✦ The Crownkeeper’s Reactions ✦

“The balance— it’s tipping by itself,” hissed the Commander of Iron Concord Legion. “Something’s… forcing the judgment!”

“That’s not creation—! It’s self-forging! It’s alive!” shouted the StarForge Commander.

“Life… and decay? It’s reversing the cycle!” whispered the LifeSong Captain.

“Flame without heat? That’s not courage. That’s control breaking!” growled the Sentinel of Flame.

“They’re afraid… even the dead are trembling…” murmured the Spirit Warden.

“The timeline’s folding— Heaven’s continuum is splitting itself!” echoed the Chronoguard.

For one heartbeat, all voices fell silent — the kind of silence that even gods fear to break.

“The chains shuddered... A contract rewritten… who dares— who can rewrite the law?” gasped the Oblivion Sentinel.

“The horizon’s divided! Harmony’s losing its anchor!” called the Equinox Guard.

“The Song’s breaking apart! It can’t hold Heaven’s frequency!” cried the Chorus Sanctum.

“The light… it’s turning hollow. The Sun’s being devoured,” whispered the Aegis of the Sun.

Lightning cracked across the heavens.
The Forge’s flames reached skyward.

Spectral cries echoed from catacombs.
And through it all, the Divine Tree pulsed brighter — feeding the chaos, not stopping it.

Then—

A ripple ran through every relic.
They froze.

The stillness spread like glass freezing mid-shatter — and inside that breath, the Prince awakened.

What… is that?  whispered Sylara.
A presence, murmured Shion. But not angelic. Not divine.

Then what in creation— Ayaka began.

Her words drowned beneath the thunder of awakening light.

✦ The Awakening of the Prince ✦

Inside the Divine Tree, Haise’s chest erupted in light.

Violet-gold fractals spun through his veins like galaxies being born.

Every relic across Heaven buckled under the pressure.

The Crownkeepers gasped as their sacred relics knelt — their divine lights bending to the pulse of a single soul.

Each bearer’s sigil shone through their armor, Even the Heart hesitated, its rhythm missing a single beat — as if it, too, struggled to recognize what it had made.

mirroring the glyphs of their relics—the Crown Oaths lowering not only in the Hall above, but through every soul that carried their echo.

Across Heaven, the relics slowly steadied.

The storm of light eased into stillness, their glow returning to its rightful calm.

Order settled once more — silent, watchful, and waiting.

Across Heaven, the light returned — but a fraction off true north, as if the compass itself agreed to lie.

✦ I Overjoyed ✦

I collapsed to my knees, sobbing, laughing, everything at once.

Suddenly, my chest convulsed.
It wasn’t pain — not exactly. More like a heartbeat trying to remember its rhythm.

Something pulsed inside me. Once. Then again.

Each throb sharper, louder — like my ribs were ringing instead of bones.

My vision flickered white. My breath stuttered.

It felt like my own soul was trying to climb out of me — clawing at the edges of my light.

What… is this? I gasped.
But there was no answer. Only that pulse. Relentless. Patient. Alive.

And with every beat, the Tree itself seemed to echo it — like it was listening back.

Flames licked one wrist. Water shimmered across the other.

Wind spiraled around my shoulders.
Earth throbbed under my palms.
Lightning flashed at my heels.
Ice crowned the battlefield.
Light crowned me.
Shadow cloaked me.

Every element.
Divine light.
And beneath it all — something heavier. Brighter. Darker.

For a heartbeat, even light seemed afraid to move.

The silence didn’t calm me — it crowned me.

My vision blurred; within it, I saw — for half a breath — something Cosmic.

It pulsed inside me, violet-gold, fractals burning in my chest.

It wasn’t the Heart’s power I felt — it was something older, colder, infinite.

✦ A Cosmic Authority ✦

A hairline fissure skated across my vision — gone in a blink — like glass deciding whether to break.

The kind of force only the Crown Relics were ever allowed to touch — law, creation, and annihilation entwined.

But it was inside me. Alive.

I stared at my hands, trembling, watching starlight crawl under my veins.

How can a soul bear Authority? That’s… impossible.

For a moment, I thought I heard the Ryvane whisper back:

It’s not Authority that chose you. It’s the memory of what you were.

I… I did it!

When the storm cleared, only silence answered.
The Tree no longer glowed.
The light inside me wouldn’t stop trembling.

And through that silence, I heard one last voice — faint, echoing from the ashes.

See? You did save me, Hatoru.

I froze.
Then the voice was gone.

I pressed my fists to my forehead, tears spilling.

Kael, Lyra, Father, Mother— my voice cracked, I’m not just enough… I’m everything.

The cosmic spark pulsed again, shaking my ribs, making my whole body glow like a star trying to crawl out of me.

For the first time since the rain.
Since Ray’s silence.
Since the night I begged to die—

If this was divinity, it still trembled like me.

I felt whole.
Alive.
Unstoppable.

✦ The Light & Shadow ✦

The black floor beneath me shimmered, mirroring my face.

My irises glowed — gold, shadow, and deep within them, violet fractals of infinity spiraling like galaxies.

The reflection smiled back — not mockery, but understanding.

I touched the reflection, trembling.

This is mine, I whispered, breathless. All of it. Mine.

The glow dimmed. Faded deeper. Waiting.
But not gone. Never gone.

And in the silence, I swore I heard the voice again:

Light and shadow. Gift and debt. The world heard your cry—now the world will watch.

The floor cracked beneath me.
The dimension trembled.

✦ The Eighth Beast ✦

I turned — and far behind me, something still stood.

Eight eyes glowed through the haze — the Eighth Beast, silent, shapeless, born of every scar I’d survived.

Its gaze carried no hate — only the ache of shared survival.

Its breath rippled the air, not in threat but in recognition.

I smiled faintly.

Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. You’re one of my scars. The proof of what I endured.

The beast’s light shimmered, bowing low as if to honor me — then quietly dissolved into dust.

Its fading left a warmth behind — like a scar remembering it once bled.

See you.

The dust rose. The silence deepened.

And then—

Light detonated.

For a breathless instant, I thought I saw another door inside the light — not of flame or glass, but memory.

It didn’t open.
It only watched me — and waited.

Far away, beyond the bark and the screens, the Arena saw nothing.

No flame.
No ripple.
No gift.
Only silence.

✦ The Eleventh Light ✦

Far beneath the sanctums of Heaven — in a realm where even angels dared not breathe — the air began to hum.

Hidden under the Hall of Oaths, behind ten sealed vaults, another chamber waited.

No record named it. No priest remembered it. But it remembered Heaven.

At its center hovered a relic — a mask, half white, half black, its surface webbed with faint violet veins.

Neither radiant nor shadowed — something between.

Forgotten by Heaven, but not by what it once served.

When the Ten Relics above convulsed, this one stirred — slow, deliberate, awake.

A figure stood before it — tall, cloaked in silence. In one gloved hand, they held a miniature twin of the relic:

a hooded silver mask, small enough to hang by its chain, eyes closed, light faint and blue.

The figure studied it — calm, still.

Then, somewhere high above Heaven, Haise’s light erupted.

The miniature relic shivered — its eyes snapped open, blue bleeding to violet-gold.

A pulse of energy tore through the chamber.

For an instant, the air rippled — and above the figure, a colossal projection of the true mask appeared: the golden-black form, fractured halo gleaming, teeth of light grinning through shadow.

“For a breathless instant, the golden mask’s gaze turned upward — as if it, too, had finally found the one it had been waiting for.

The sound that followed wasn’t thunder.

It was breath.

The chamber trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. The seal runes dimmed — not in failure, but in acknowledgment.

And as the projection faded, the small mask’s glow softened back to blue, its eyes closing once more.

The figure exhaled slowly — unfazed.

Then a faint grin crept across their lips.

No words. No revelation. Only that silent smile — too calm for the chaos above, too knowing for chance.

And as Heaven roared above, the secret beneath it exhaled — patient.

Watching.

Waiting.

End of Chapter 14 — The Eleventh Light: The Awakening of Heaven’s Fault

True ascension is not the conquest of pain — it is the acceptance of it.