Chapter 64 - Drowned Sun

A few moments earlier...

In front of the laboratory chamber, several tree roots burst through the cement tiles, from which Atbara emerged in his spectral form. A brief clarification about this vampire's ability: through the roots of the Guhojre trees, Atbara learned how to access his spiritual form,a projection of himself that acted as a second person. It resembled a clone, but it came with two major drawbacks.

First, the time he could remain in this state was limited. If he didn't return to his physical body within a few minutes, he would die. Though fully conscious and capable of fighting with this other body, his astral form consumed a considerable portion of his life force. As a result, he weakened rapidly, like a flower left to wither.

Second, if his physical body died, his astral form would vanish forever. To the naked eye, this form looked almost ghostly, accompanied by tiny drifting soul particles, faint and hard to distinguish.

Once the roots receded, Atbara's full form appeared before the door. He glanced left and right, ensuring no one else was there.

"Seems like I'm the only one here," he muttered, stepping toward the entrance.

He turned the doorknob, it was unlocked, and slowly, the blood of fallen angelic soldiers began to dominate the scene before him. As he pushed the door open, he saw the eleven Spheres of Alitus hovering above a lake of blood. The metallic stench filled the room. Around the spheres stood experimental tubes, each containing weapons and bodies from all sorts of species. Behind them, Bakabali was imprisoned within his own containment chamber, a sight that made even Atbara uneasy.

"Damn. What a vile place. Aldes was right. Angels really are filthier than I thought," he said as he walked across the blood-soaked floor.

His boots moved softly through the crimson pool, their edges blending with the coagulated blood. Beneath him, the spheres glowed faintly blue amidst the massacre.

"So these must be the spheres," Atbara murmured to himself. But then his gaze shifted toward Bakabali.

"Bakabali... poor soul. Whoever you are, I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone. I'm sorry for you," he said quietly, before turning back toward the spheres. Yet he stopped again, his eyes returning to Bakabali's frail figure.

"Actually... I could end all of this right now," he said, unsheathing his rapier to destroy the tube holding the sworn enemy of Uanamangura. Bakabali floated within, unaware of his surroundings, lost in his own false paradise.

But, something unexpected happened to the vampire.

"Nhook!! M-My physical body... It can't be... defeated?!" Atbara gasped. Pain coursed through him as the realization struck: his real body had been destroyed on the battlefield. His spirit was fading fast, collapsing into nothingness amid those unfamiliar surroundings.

That was how he had lived in this world, and how he vanished from it. As someone who belonged nowhere.

Before the drifting remnants of his soul scattered, a white dress appeared beside a fallen titan statue, its fabric wrinkled, stained with tears the color of blood...

And behind the fading trace of Atbara's form, the faint silhouette of someone watched in silence, expressionless, unmoved.

Meanwhile, in the Holy Kingdom of the angels, Saint Zagra, the situation had grown far worse. The city lay in ruins, corpses of angels sprawled across the shattered streets, their glassy eyes fixed toward the heavens. Torn limbs, rivers of blood, and flames devoured every corner of what was once a divine realm.

At the center of thousands of terrified angelic soldiers stood the High Card Cherub, Thranatis, his foot pressed upon the neck of a fallen soldier he had just consumed. None of the angels dared to move a muscle under the murderous aura radiating from him, not a sound, not even a breath escaped their lips.

High above, perched upon the shattered rooftops of the same city, Tarnael watched, a trembling sphere pulsing beneath his cloak.

"Your Majesty, we've gathered a great number of soldiers now. Please, open the gates," a voice echoed faintly from within the sphere.

"Don't you dare come here," Tarnael muttered under his breath, pulling the sphere out from his cloak.

"I beg your pardon, Majesty?" came the soldier's confused voice.

"The situation is under control. There's no reason to open the gates, and no one, under any circumstance, is to fly toward Saint Zagra," Tarnael replied sternly.

"Are you certain, Majesty? You seemed rather alarmed before," the soldier pressed.

"The battle is secured. I will not waste more lives," Tarnael answered.

"As you wish, my lord," said the soldier before severing the connection.

Tarnael slipped the sphere back beneath his cloak, his face pale, caught between fear and frustration. If he summoned reinforcements, they would only become fodder for Thranatis' madness. The angels would suffer needless slaughter.

From afar, Igorus observed the scene, puzzled by what had paralyzed the entire army in fear.

"This sensation... it's familiar. Like what I felt flying over the Guhojre Forest, but fainter. Could it be the same kind of energy?" Igorus thought to himself.

Thranatis stirred, intrigued. He sensed Igorus' presence clearly, two or three kilometers away, and it caught his attention.

"Someone... different. Stronger..." he murmured.

His solitary eye, floating before his face and encircled by eight luminous rings, spun slowly as he scanned the distance.

"So the Aegnids have changed greatly, their form, their language. They've become... pitiful. Who knows how many millennia have passed since I last breathed clean air?"

He tugged at the glowing shackles on his wrists, but they refused to break.

"Cursed dragons. With these bindings, I can't even use a fifth of my power... damn it all."

Meanwhile, Igorus remained still, uncertain how to act.

"Aldes is there. He's changed form,? he noted, spotting his comrade through the haze. "But where is Atbara? Why is he taking so long?"

Then a faint, weakened voice drifted through the crackling air.

"Igorus... Friola..."

It was Kaela, lying among the palace ruins. Igorus turned, startled, wondering why she would call his name.

"Please... kill that filth... the one who just arrived..." she begged weakly.

"The one who just arrived?" he asked.

"One of... the Cherubs... Please..." she whispered, her pride discarded in desperation.

"Why are you telling me this? Aren't I your enemy?" Igorus asked.

"You're the only one... who might stand a chance... against a Cherub... Father told us... the three Cherubs... are worse than demons themselves... cursed... deep within their souls... My Lapis has frozen... I can't move... His Lapis energy... is overwhelming... If you don't stop him... he will destroy... the Holy Island... and then... the world..."

Igorus stared at her, this proud warrior now pleading for help, trembling beneath the flickering light of the flames. Her eyes burned with a determination he had never seen before.

"If you don't stop him... he will kill... your son..."

Igorus' eyes widened.

"I know... everything you've done... it's for your son... To lift his curse... to change his fate as a monster... by killing the gods yourself... Now you have the chance... to fulfill that wish... Save your son, Igorus... in the name of the whole world..."

"Kaela..." he whispered as he listened to her fading voice.

"Kill... that bastard..." she breathed before losing consciousness among the ruins.

Igorus stood silently, the light of the flames reflecting in his eyes.

"Hmm? The half-dragon Aegnid prepares for battle? Heheh..."

Thranatis spread his eight wings wide, and the force of it shattered the ground. Thousands of angels were thrown backward as the very air screamed under the pressure. The ruins around him disintegrated, sweeping across the land like a divine storm. Debris crashed into the walls of the kingdom, some hurled skyward, vanishing beyond the clouds, creating the image of an apocalyptic vortex of light and dust.

Tarnael conjured a glowing portal before him to shield himself from the blast. Around him, the angelic army fell into chaos, hundreds were torn apart by the flying wreckage, others burned alive in the infernos spreading through the capital.

A single beat of Thranatis' wings had scattered an army of tens of thousands, effortlessly.

Igorus witnessed it from afar, cloaking himself in shields of black flame, preparing for what was to come.

"A single move did all that? This is going to be far tougher than I expected," Igorus muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, Aldes had climbed one of the defensive towers of the kingdom's walls, observing Thranatis' cataclysmic display from afar.

"Good thing I left the battlefield. I've no desire to deal with a bastard that insane," he said, sitting casually atop the tower's edge.

"Your Majesty," came Ovidius' voice beside Tarnael.

"The situation is far worse than I imagined," Tarnael replied, lowering the protective portal before him.

"W-What happened? What is that thing?" Ovidius asked, his voice trembling.

"It's better you don't know," Tarnael said, his gaze fixed upon the kingdom now flattened and burning beneath the Cherub's wings.

The storm of light and air finally ceased, leaving the realm completely leveled. Only fragments of the walls remained, broken and scarred. The soldiers scattered along them were wounded, terrified, and demoralized, unable to continue the fight after witnessing such divine ruin.

"That's all? Seems time has dulled my wings," Thranatis murmured to himself with a cruel smirk.

Igorus dispelled his fire barriers, shielding Kaela in the process.

"Don't worry, Kaela. I'll do my best," he whispered, not looking back as he unfurled his own wings and took flight toward Thranatis.

"So, you've made up your mind, have you?" Thranatis said as he noticed Igorus soaring in his direction.

The Cherub stood calmly, waiting. Igorus landed several meters away, the air thick with tension.

"You're smaller than I thought," Thranatis remarked.

"And you're stranger than I expected," Igorus retorted dryly.

"Heh. Amusing. What's your name?" Thranatis asked.

"Igorus. Igorus Friola."

"Igorus Friola... If you manage to entertain me, I'll remember your name as a reward. How about that?"

"More than fair," Igorus said, raising his flaming sword.

"Not curious about my name?" Thranatis asked with mock interest.

"No need to know the name of someone I won't remember," Igorus replied, flames licking across his armor.

"Is that so?" Thranatis flexed his claws, his single hovering eye glaring down at Igorus with scorn.

"What should we do, Your Majesty?" Ovidius asked nervously.

"We watch, Ovidius. There's nothing else we can do, only hope Igorus Friola wins this battle," Tarnael said, his left hand clenched tight with strain.

Ovidius froze, shocked by the hopeless tone in Tarnael's voice, something he had never imagined hearing from him.

"Tch. I hate this," Ovidius muttered, turning his eyes toward the two combatants.

Igorus raised his right palm, unleashing a tidal wave of fire. Flames surged forward, devouring the landscape for hundreds of meters, but they shattered against a violent burst of air that blew Igorus backward. Thranatis stood untouched, his wings spread wide.

Then, in an instant, he vanished. The ground where he'd stood exploded, leaving a crater.

"Where—?"

A crushing blow struck Igorus in the stomach. Thranatis' left fist buried itself in his abdomen with monstrous speed.

Igorus coughed blood onto the Cherub's face. Thranatis simply grinned, licking it from his cheek.

Igorus grabbed the Cherub's arm with both hands, ignited his leg in flame, and kicked Thranatis in the gut with brutal force.

"Hmph!" Thranatis grunted, then seized Igorus by the armor and hurled him hundreds of meters away. The impact rattled the skies, Igorus struggled to regain control of his wings as Thranatis appeared above him, smiling like a predator.

"Fernia Relica... Third Reveal — Hunger of—"

Igorus' spell was cut short as Thranatis grabbed him by the face and slammed him into the ground with apocalyptic force. The impact tore through the kingdom, splitting the earth into vast chasms. The shockwave carried across the land; lava burst from the ruptured ground, consuming what was left of the once-holy kingdom.

Angel soldiers fled upward in panic, while those who couldn't fly plunged screaming into the fiery abyss below.

Outside the ruins, Tarnael emerged from a portal, carrying his unconscious sister to safety.

"I'm not even sure why I saved you..." he muttered, looking back toward the fallen kingdom, now nothing more than a wasteland of molten fissures.

Thranatis sat atop a broken spire of rock surrounded by rivers of lava, resting his chin on his palm with a sinister smile.

"Impressive. Still alive, are you?" he said, watching Igorus rise from the molten flow across from him, lava dripping from his armor.

Igorus shook the magma from his body, his eyes locked on Thranatis with burning hatred.

"I like that face," Thranatis laughed as he spread his wings and flew toward him, the force of his takeoff obliterating the stone pillar beneath his feet.

Igorus flared his wings and unleashed a storm of fire, a tidal blaze that engulfed the kingdom in a single instant. The inferno roared, swallowing the sky.

Thranatis deflected the waves of flame with his wings as he charged forward. Igorus met him head-on, slashing with his blazing sword, but Thranatis was far faster. He struck with a kick that sent Igorus hurtling backward through the air.

"Khhkh! Ankostra!" Igorus roared. From the firestorm above, dozens of spectral lances materialized and rained down upon Thranatis.

"Hohohohoh!" Thranatis laughed, exhilarated, as the giant Ankostra spears fell from the heavens. Each one detonated into a violet inferno, hammering the Cherub from every direction.

The sky turned purple with flame, a divine cataclysm.

Thranatis clapped his hands once, then spread them outward. In an instant, every Ankostra and every violet flame was sliced apart as if by invisible blades. The firestorm fragmented into hundreds of glowing shards, then vanished.

"What the hell—?" Igorus gasped as his entire attack was effortlessly destroyed.

With a motion too swift to follow, Thranatis carved through the air, slicing the kingdom's walls into countless pieces, and hurled them toward Igorus with a speed and force worthy of a god.

"Fernia Relica: Second Reveal — The Fiery Citadel"

The walls of the kingdom began to melt, streams of lava pouring down as if the stone itself bled under the heat of Igorus' technique. Entire sections collapsed into the endless chasms surrounding the ruined realm. But before Igorus could react, Thranatis appeared before him, faster than thought, and drove his heel into Igorus' chest, launching him far beyond the kingdom's borders.

"Khhkk! HAAAHHHHH!!!" Igorus roared, hurling blazing orbs from his palms mid-flight, but Thranatis met him head-on, slamming his forehead into Igorus's chest with a sickening crack.

"Khhaakk!!"

With a cruel grin, Thranatis seized Igorus by his flaming wings and flung him earthward. The impact shattered the land itself, birthing a massive explosion that scorched the plains for miles.

Then, from the heavens, a colossal hand of fire, hundreds of meters wide, descended, grasping to seize Thranatis within its burning palm.

"Another trick, eh?" Thranatis muttered as he soared upward to meet it.

He caught the immense fiery hand with only his right arm. The clash unleashed a heat so intense that every ruin below liquefied into rivers of molten stone. From afar, angelic soldiers — the few who survived, watched in awe and terror.

"This... this is madness!"

"Who could have imagined such a being existed?"

Their trembling voices barely carried over the roar of the inferno. Powerless, they stared at the battle between gods.

Thranatis raised his other arm. The gigantic hand split apart, disintegrating into countless fading embers.

"My apologies, Igorus... it seems you're the one failing to impress me," Thranatis said as he descended, but then stopped.

"Hm?"

The heavens darkened. Above, immense meteors, each the size of mountains, tore through the clouds, their surfaces molten, cloaked in flames and smoke. The world trembled beneath their descent.

"Now you're just pathetic," Thranatis sneered, swinging his wings leftward. The motion sliced every meteor cleanly in half. Yet the fragments immediately reformed into one titanic mass, a blazing, shattered world, like a fallen Mars hovering over the kingdom of angels, engulfed in fire.

"Fernia Relica: First Reveal — The Wrath of Betelgeuse," came Igorus' voice from below.

A cataclysmic sun ignited in the sky, a second star born from his fury. Its light scorched the clouds, its waves of flame rippling outward with divine magnitude. The brilliance, the unbearable heat, the roaring inferno, all revealed the true extent of Igorus' power.

Thranatis looked upon the artificial sun with indifference, his arms folded, unimpressed.

"Let me ask you something, Igorus..." he said.

"Hm?" Igorus responded warily.

"What is the weakness of fire?"

"What do you mean?" Igorus demanded, eyes narrowing as the false sun began to fall toward Thranatis.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Thranatis extended both arms toward the descending star.

A deep rumble tore through the northern reaches of the heavenly realm.

"What's happening?"

"An earthquake?"

The soldiers watched as the very stones beneath them began to tremble. The quake spread through the divine island, growing stronger each second. Trees swayed violently, animals scattered in terror, and the kings of the angelic nations felt it too, a shudder that chilled even their immortal hearts.

In his royal chamber, Xael stared at his trembling wine glass.

"So... it has begun," he murmured, gazing from his balcony.

Even the Dominions felt it, the tremor rippling faintly through their lands.

"What's going on?"

"This never happens."

"Did you feel that too?"

They whispered across streets and sanctuaries alike, confusion rising. Voidanos looked around, bewildered. Kaliga and Kasama exchanged worried glances.

"I hope this isn't bad news," Kaliga muttered, taking a nervous sip of water. "I swear, if it's that Kindu again..."

Back on the battlefield, Igorus' eyes widened. He turned toward the source of the quake, and saw something unthinkable reflected in his pupils. A colossal surge of water was rising into the sky, swallowing his artificial sun in seconds.

An ocean, a true ocean, floated above the world. Its vast waves cascaded through the heavens, drowning the sky in liquid light. The realm of angels became a shimmering, blue abyss. The reflection of the submerged sun shimmered faintly below, distorted by the endless sea.

Everywhere, fish, sea beasts, and creatures of the deep swam across the ceiling of the world. The heavens were gone. The moon and stars vanished. Only water remained, an ocean stretching over three million square kilometers, swallowing sky and light alike.

"The answer... is water, Igorus," Thranatis said coldly, his gaze fixed on the stunned dominion below. "As you can see... I am the Cherub of Vengeance"