Chapter 34 - Pride

In the abyss where Alfons' throne stood, the same door that once led him into the underworld of the Morloks appeared again behind him. The door opened, and from it emerged the master of the abyss himself, closing it once more with the same incantation he had used before, the one that had first welcomed Igorus as a guest.

A faint shimmer of dark magic dust swirled through the air as the door vanished, leaving behind only the dim shadows cast by the flickering flames along the skeletal cliffs.

Alfons, calm as ever, began walking toward his throne, his staff tapping the ground like a walking cane, more out of habit than necessity. It had become a kind of ritual for him, a rhythm of thought and authority.

But then, the dark lion stopped abruptly, his posture rigid and commanding.
He sensed something unusual in the air.

His crimson eyes turned toward a faint, trembling flame. His gaze narrowed, studying every drifting particle of light within that heavy darkness. And then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Alfons' expression darkened as he realized another presence was approaching. The sound grew louder, echoing against the walls of the abyss, in rhythm with the movement of the flame.

The figure's feet emerged first, simple brown shoes. Then came the long cloak of the same color, and a hood drawn low to conceal the wearer's identity, much like an inquisitor in search of a heretic.

Alfons said nothing, but his power was ready, poised in silence, for this meeting could turn fatal at any second.

The stranger raised his hands gracefully, revealing them to be pale and elegant. Slowly, he pulled back his hood. The dim light of the flame fell upon his face, catching the cascade of long golden hair that shone with angelic brilliance, a light almost painful in that sunless realm.

Alfons released his guard.

"I seek knowledge from you, Alfons Barner," said Tarnael, gazing at the hybrid with open disdain.

Atbara, in his form as a colossal bat, beat his wings with such force that they generated violent gusts of wind. From above, the Lich watched the creature closely, hovering in midair with his flaming skeletal wings, ready to strike at any moment with his axe. Atbara darted toward him with terrifying speed, but the Lich soared higher, prepared to slay the monster that had taken shape in the skies above the divine island.

The giant's fist collided with the burning man's axe, the impact unleashing immense waves of fire and electricity that reduced every nearby being in the sky to ash. The eye of the axe widened, its iris dilating as a mass of blazing fire formed around it. Atbara recoiled slightly, but suddenly drew in a deep, cavernous breath. The burned warrior charged toward him, only for Atbara to unleash from his mouth a murderous gale, an infernal tempest so violent it howled like the wind of Hell itself.

His breath was razor-sharp, slicing through hundreds of trees below. Animals scattered in panic, though many met a grim fate amidst the chaos. The breath cut clean through Lich's left arm, shattering a large portion of his armor and exposing the grotesque mixture of bone and flesh beneath.

"Raaahhhh..." the general of bones groaned through gritted teeth, writhing in pain.

Atbara lunged forward, and with monstrous speed, clamped his jaws around the warrior's right leg, tearing it clean off with shark-like teeth hungry for blood. Yet the Lich ignored the agony, retaliating with a kick from his remaining leg. Atbara caught it midair and hurled him across the forest. The burned man's body skidded through the woods, carving a long scar of shattered trees in his path.

Landing with a thunderous impact that left a crater beneath him, Atbara stood upright, his mouth brimming with rows of jagged teeth, saliva dripping from his lips, his slit eyes glimmering like a venomous serpent's. He was pure instinct, pure hunger. No trace of reason remained. Unfurling his wings, he charged again, cutting through trees and creatures alike with the sharp air surrounding his monstrous flight.

The Lich rose once more, his body erupting with black fire and streaks of yellow lightning. He sprinted forward on his single leg, destroying everything in his wake, clutching his axe for one last desperate strike. Atbara, driven by the same mindless fury, charged in kind, two beasts colliding, stripped of thought or mercy.

As they met, the Lich swung his axe in a mighty arc meant to cleave his foe in two. The impact tore open a massive chasm through the forest, splitting the earth itself. Trees, beasts, and the cries of terror all vanished into the abyss below. Believing he had slain the creature, the burned man hovered above the devastation, scanning for any sign of life.

But Atbara was not gone. Deep at the bottom of the pit, amid heaps of mangled mystical beasts, he devoured their flesh with his nightmarish teeth. Blood dripped from his jaws, his red eyes glowing through the darkness, a sight to freeze the soul.

With lightning speed, Atbara launched upward, tearing through the Lich's armor with his claws. He crossed hundreds of meters in mere seconds. Shards of armor, fragments of bone, and flesh fell like rain across the ruined forest below.

"GHHAAAAAHHHHH!" the Lich screamed, consumed by rage and hatred, clutching his axe with what little strength he had left.

Meanwhile, Igorus flew high above the forests of Guhojre, heading toward the dominions after meeting Alfons in the mortal supercontinent, Zagros. He glided peacefully over the treetops, his eyes distant, until a strange feeling struck him.

"Hm? What is this sensation?" he murmured, his gaze shifting northwest toward a disturbance that pulsed through the air.

Driven by curiosity and unease, he changed course, unaware that two deranged monsters were tearing each other apart below in the most grotesque battle imaginable.

"Kaligaaa... Kaligaaa..." the burned man whispered through the agony.

Atbara opened his blood-soaked jaws, preparing to unleash another deadly breath. But before he could, Lich swung his axe with the last of his strength, slashing through Atbara's right wing.

"KRRAAAHHHHH!" Atbara shrieked as blood poured in torrents from the wound. He aborted his attack and lunged forward, biting deep into the Lich's throat, ripping apart the gorget that guarded it and the flesh beneath.

"KKAAAHHKK!" Lich spat blood, a dark stream pouring from the gaping wound. He stumbled backward, still clutching his axe. Atbara dove again, but before he could strike, the skeletal general seized him by the neck. The creature's claws and teeth tore at him, shattering and breaking under the monstrous strength of Atbara's jaws.

Desperation consumed the burned man. He began eating his own arm, biting into the flesh to withstand the pain, as Atbara gnawed at him like a beast tearing through prey.

"RAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" the Lich released an enormous surge of black fire, scorching Atbara and forcing him back. He crashed into the ground, shattering a tree beneath him. From amidst the splintered wood, he rose slowly, barely holding himself up with his mangled hand, his fingers no longer fingers, just lumps of bleeding bone and meat.

Then, in a moment beyond madness, Lich began to devour the eye of his own axe. Like a starving animal, stripped of all reason, he chewed on the burning weapon.

Atbara crouched low, watching his deranged foe, now utterly lost. There was nothing left of the warrior, only a creature broken beyond repair. Two monsters, bound by the same cursed fate: alive, yet dead within.

"Aaaaaaahh..." the Lich's blood boiled as it burned his countless wounds, yet he kept eating, burning, chewing, burning, chewing, burning, chewing. He bit his own arm to endure the pain.

"RAAAUUUU!!! KRAAAHAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Atbara hesitated to attack, watching the endless cycle of suffering before him. The sight was not victory, only tragedy.

"Fernia Relica: Fourth Reveal — Misty Breath."

A vast cloud of ash engulfed the burned figure from all directions. He groaned endlessly, consumed by pain, by the searing, indescribable agony devouring his body. Igorus descended between Atbara and the scorched man.

"The first time I've ever seen you like this, Atbara. Let's hope you didn't cause more damage to this forest than that monster did," Igorus said calmly, his eyes fixed ahead, watching as the burned man was swallowed by his own ashes.

Atbara was slowly returning to his original form. His muscles shrank, the fur dissolved, until at last, only a frail, naked body remained. Exhausted, he collapsed backward like a fragile maiden.

"Here's your hat," came Aldes' voice as he held Atbara in his arms, placing the familiar hat on his head.

"Aldes! Since when have you been here?" Atbara asked weakly.

"It was hard to ignore all... this," Aldes replied, glancing around at the devastation. "I just arrived, and found your precious hat hanging from a tree branch."

"I see. Have you seen the Reaper?" Atbara asked.

"No. Not anywhere," Aldes answered.

"Any idea who that tormented soul was?" Igorus asked, looking toward the burned man, who could no longer move.

"He kept repeating the queen's name. Who knows what kind of connection they once had," Atbara murmured.

The Lich disintegrated completely from existence. The only thing that remained was his pitiful axe, devoured by his own hunger. It no longer held any power. He no longer held any meaning. A monster bound by the strings of hatred; a being too angry to die.

Igorus turned his gaze toward the naked Atbara and Aldes. There was a silent exchange between them, one that spoke volumes but could not be captured in words.

"I understand. I'll report this to Central Command immediately and make sure word reaches the Queen. Go get yourself treated, Atbara," said Igorus, spreading his wings before soaring into the sky.

"Do you think the General still resents us?" Aldes asked quietly.

"For what happened with Kaia? I can't make sense of that man," Atbara muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead, as though struck by a sudden migraine.

"I also saw Kataba along the way... I'm sorry," Aldes said softly.

"He was bound to meet his fate sooner or later. He fulfilled his duty—"

Atbara stopped mid-sentence. What he saw before him was something beyond belief, utterly unexpected, impossibly strange.

Before his eyes stood a massive wall, ash-gray and covered in moss, stretching endlessly in both directions. The sight was eerie. Amid the destruction and the fallen trees, this wall had no reason to exist, yet it was there, as though summoned specifically for him to see.

He blinked, only for a fleeting instant, but when his eyes opened again, the walls were gone. The forest had returned to normal.

"W–What the hell? Aldes, did you see that?" Atbara asked, his voice trembling in confusion.

"See what?" Aldes asked.

"Those giant gray walls! They were right there a second ago. What the hell..."

"You sure you haven't been drinking again?" Aldes said with a smirk.

"I forgot who I'm talking to," Atbara sighed in frustration.

"You're probably just exhausted. When I'm tired, I start seeing beautiful angels, but sadly, they're never real. You, on the other hand, got lucky enough to hallucinate a public brothel."

"Alright, alright. I get it. Just take me to Tamasi," Atbara snapped irritably.

Aldes chuckled, unfurling his dark wings as he lifted both of them into the air. As they flew away from the ravaged battlefield, Atbara kept glancing down, toward the place where that impossible vision had appeared.

Something in him whispered that whatever he had seen... wasn't gone.

Inside the royal palace of the East, in the kingdom of Saint Sagra, the angels held a grand banquet to celebrate the coronation of Tarnael as their new king.

The hall was dazzling, filled with the highest-born angels, nobles and aristocrats of divine blood. They sat at enchanted tables overflowing with opulence: chairs gilded in the purest gold, laden with banquets of heavenly delicacies, the air perfumed with the scent of exotic flowers arranged in crystal vases at the center of each table.

They wore the richest garments imaginable, divine silks, radiant jewels, intricate hairnets, and elegantly tailored tunics. They laughed and dined, their conversations flowing as lightly as the celestial wine, while angelic musicians performed in the background. Against the far wall hung a massive mural depicting angels playing sacred instruments among the clouds, a living hymn in paint and sound. The music delighted the guests, stirring a joy only angels could understand.

At the head of this magnificent celebration sat Tarnael, Eliael, and Kaela, side by side, watching their people revel in glory.

"The food is... finger-licking good!" said Eliael, chewing in a rather undignified manner.

"I'm glad to hear that, brother," Kaela replied with a warm laugh.

Tarnael drank quietly, swirling his glass of wine as his gaze lingered on the musicians playing harps and church organs, their celestial chorus echoing through the palace.

"What do you think of the celebration, Tarnael?" Kaela asked, her tone polite but slightly cold.

"Unnecessary," he replied calmly, "but not... entirely unpleasant."

"You'll have a difficult road ahead, full of responsibility. Are you feeling any better now? You worried me deeply that day you were crowned," said Kaela, trying to hide the concern in her voice.

"Worried? Truly?" Tarnael asked, a trace of irony in his tone.

"You're my brother, after all. I'm obliged to worry about you," Kaela said, lifting a forkful of salad from the plate before him.

Tarnael glanced at her hand reaching past his wine glass.
"If you say so," he murmured, turning his gaze back to the singing angels.

"Your Majesty, would you like anything else?" asked a servant who had approached the royal table.

"A piece of steak, if you please," said Eliael enthusiastically.

"Nothing for me," Kaela replied.

Tarnael remained lost in thought, still staring at the musicians.

"Your Majesty Tarnael?" asked the servant again.

"Ah—hm. Another glass of wine," Tarnael said absently.

"As you wish," the servant replied with a bow before leaving.

"Now that I think of it, I haven't seen Lazrael in days," said Eliael between bites.

"Perhaps he's been traveling between kingdoms. He's always busy, he's far too clever for his own good," Kaela said.

"That must be it! I can't wait to help him with his research. I want to learn more, so much more!" Eliael said with childlike excitement.

"Why do you want to know more?" Tarnael asked.

"Because I want to, brother. I want to know everything this world has to offer. I want to be the wisest angel who ever lived in our realm," Eliael said, his eyes burning with idealism.

Tarnael stared at his younger brother with cold, unreadable eyes. He wanted to say something, yet chose silence instead.

"Good for you. Truly," he finally said, glancing into his empty glass.

"I'm glad you have a dream, Eliael," Kaela added with a bright smile.

"Your Majesty Tarnael Frizina," came a sycophantic voice from nearby as King Frastel approached the royal table.

"King Frastel. A pleasure to have you here," Tarnael replied curtly.

The man before him wore a heavy open mantle to accommodate his girth. His long blond mustache curled down over his round face, and a chaperon rested atop his balding head.

"The honor is mine, to stand before a ruler so worthy of our kind. The Kingdom of Ulmra is most pleased by your ascension to the throne," Frastel said, his pudgy hands trembling with a mix of greed and discomfort.

"Spare me the flattery. What do you want from me?" Tarnael asked bluntly.

"W–What!? N-No, I—" the fat king stammered, startled by such directness.

"What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?" Tarnael repeated, his tone low and dangerous, a faint crimson flicker igniting within his eyes.

"I—I'll come back another time! Enjoy your evening!" Frastel stammered before scurrying off in shame and confusion.

"Why did he leave?" Eliael asked innocently.

"Tarnael..." Kaela said sharply, glaring at her brother.

"He wanted to marry you," Tarnael said flatly, taking another sip of wine. "I read his mind before he even reached the table."

"You didn't want me to marry him, huh? Since when are you so protective?" Kaela asked, half teasing, half annoyed.

"I simply didn't want to see any more imbeciles in my life," Tarnael replied calmly.

"Pffft!" Eliael choked on his drink.

The servant soon returned, carrying the royal meals.

"Ahaha! The steak's here!" Eliael cheered gleefully.

"Some things never change," Kaela said, smiling.

The servant poured Tarnael's wine with graceful precision.

"My thanks," Tarnael said quietly as the crimson liquid filled the glass.

"The honor is mine, Your Majesty," replied the servant before departing.

"What's your plan for the other kingdoms?" Kaela asked. "Do you intend to form alliances with them, or will you ignore them as they've ignored us?"

"The alliance is already decided," Tarnael said, his tone cool and deliberate. "From the moment our kingdom became the main one. Of course, I'll need to 'consider' the opinions of the other monarchs before making any decision. At least, that's what the law requires."

"So you plan to obey the law?" Kaela asked.

"No," Tarnael replied coldly. "I know exactly what those gluttonous fools are thinking. Their minds reek of selfishness, materialism, hedonism, epicureanism, utilitarianism. Different names for the same disease. Angels chase fleeting pleasures, and because they can live forever, they mistake them for eternity. I have no interest in such creatures. They're nothing more than... animals."

"Animals, hmm? Then your duty, brother, is to lead those animals toward reason. We're not so different from mortals in that regard," Kaela said, taking another bite of salad.

Tarnael lifted his glass, sipping his wine with practiced grace.

"Speaking of which," he said, setting it down, "I despise the music here. Or rather, the lyrics."

Kaeda arrived home. She slipped off her shoes in the hallway and placed them neatly beside the others, wiping them carefully with a cloth. Removing her apron, she hung it by the coat rack, then exhaled deeply, the exhaustion of the day pressing down on her as she caught her own reflection in the small mirror nearby.

"Back already, sister?" came a voice from the living room.

"Yes, yes, I'm here. Ueda, thank you for taking care of my son," said Kaeda, heading toward her room to change.

"What are you talking about? Thank you for giving me the chance to spend time with this little angel," Ueda replied, cradling the baby. The tiny Voidanos clutched his bottle in both hands, looking up at her with a playful smile.

"It's been such an exhausting day... the patients, the morgue, the endless reports," Kaeda said as she emerged from her room, now changed into something comfortable.

"I can imagine, sister. Luckily, I had fewer hours at work today, so I could watch over your boy," said Ueda.

"He can manage on his own most of the time, honestly. He doesn't cause any trouble. He can grab food telekinetically, the milk is in the fridge, and he can open it himself. He's learned to be quite independent," said Kaeda.

"Impressive. Truly impressive," Ueda said, smiling at the giggling baby.

"Still, I had this strange feeling today... like someone needed to watch over him. I don't know why," said Kaeda, her brow furrowing slightly.

"It's just a mother's instinct. No matter how safe your family is, that feeling never really goes away," Ueda replied.

"You're right," Kaeda nodded.

"Ahhh, if only I could find a husband, that'd be nice," Ueda sighed, stretching her arms in weariness.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Who could that be at this hour?" Kaeda wondered aloud as she went to answer it.

When she opened the door, she found Igorus standing there, cloaked in his dark burial robe.

"Igorus? I was worried about you. Where have you been?" she asked, concern coloring her tone.

"I thought I'd dropped this cloak in the woods, so I had to fly out there. I got permission from the barrier supervision staff, and they let me leave," Igorus said, stepping inside and hanging his cloak neatly on the rack.

"Well, I see you found it after all," Kaeda said, eyeing the robe.

"Funny thing is, it was in my office the whole time, under a shelf. No idea how it ended up there. I always keep it in the closet," Igorus said, shaking his head.

"That's not the first time that's happened," Kaeda chuckled.

"Igorus, aren't you tired from work?" Ueda asked as she rocked Voidanos in her arms.

"Ueda! I can't say yes or no. But it looks like you've been spending time with our little champion, huh? Hahahaha," Igorus said as he walked into the living room, gently squeezing the baby's chubby cheeks.

"It was pure joy. I discovered something odd about your son, though," Ueda said.

Both Igorus and Kaeda turned their attention toward her.

"Every time Voidanos did something, this cross on his chest lit up," Ueda said, pointing at the baby's chest, where a faintly glowing cross was tattooed within a half-circle mark.

"That's strange. Oh!" Igorus exclaimed as several small golden spheres appeared above the baby.

"What are those?" Kaeda asked, confused.

"His imagination taking form. Heheheh, I didn't think it would manifest this early. He really is my son," Igorus said proudly. As the glowing spheres floated above him, the cross on Voidanos's chest pulsed with light.

"Where's Luena?" Igorus asked.

"At work. She said she might drop by tomorrow," Kaeda replied.

"Well, we've still got that beer we never opened. I thought we could invite her over and finally finish it," Igorus said, blowing gently toward the fireplace. Instantly, the logs ignited, filling the room with a warm, golden glow.

"Maybe you should just start drinking it yourself first, then invite the rest of us," Ueda teased.

"I can't drink alone. It makes me depressed," Igorus said as he leaned back into the couch, relaxing.

"Coward," Ueda smirked.

"Coward? Of what?" Igorus asked, genuinely confused.

"Afraid you'll get drunk and no one will be there to take care of you, huh?" Ueda teased again.

"Ridiculous. If you knew how much I've drunk alone, you wouldn't call me a coward," Igorus said with a dismissive grin.

"I delivered that body to the morgue today," Kaeda said, stepping into the living room.

"Did the surgeons find anything from his brain yet?" Igorus asked, his tone suddenly serious.

"Not yet. It's taking unusually long," Kaeda replied.

"I still can't figure out what whoever did this was trying to achieve. Even the military and the police haven't found anything," Igorus said.

"Marshall Mildura was at the hospital earlier," Kaeda added as she sat beside him.

"What was the Marshal doing there?" Igorus asked.

"I'm not sure exactly, but he ran into a suspicious person inside the hospital. Said the man was heading toward the central police station," Kaeda explained.

"The police station? Why there, of all places..." Igorus murmured to himself, glancing over at Voidanos, who was giggling as Ueda played with him, while his small chest started glowng.

Beneath the central police headquarters lay a hidden chamber, surrounded on all sides by iron bars and bathed in a dim, lifeless light. Drops of blood glistened ominously across the floor, where dozens of police officers' bodies lay strewn in silent ruin, some hanging from the walls, others impaled against the bars, others torn apart across the stone. Their eyes were empty, devoid of any glimmer of life, as hollow as the place itself.

At the center of the room rested a golden cushion, marked by eleven small hollows. A faint, crystalline hum echoed through the chamber, like the chime of a windbell in a forgotten shop. In the wavering shadow cast by the pale light, eleven dark-blue orbs hovered in the air, rotating slowly in a perfect circle, guided by Lazrael, who stood before them with a wicked smile sewn across his face.

"It seems that broken toy in the Forest of Guhojre met its end sooner than I expected," Lazrael murmured to himself. "That's what happens when you experiment on souls that have known nothing but suffering. They die faster. I would've preferred if it had taken down a Dominion; I could've played with it later. But oh well, nothing to be done now. At least I've reached my goal. At least... I can make Mother proud."

He looked ahead at a familiar painting, the same one Magura had once glimpsed during her infiltration of the royal palace of the angels. The woman in red stood there once more, her gown flowing like spilled blood, blessing Uanamangura with the crimson that streamed from the severed head of a dragon...