Chapter 67 - Fear of Light (Part 2)

Meleagel stood before Thranatis, unshaken, unwavering, determined to face him, while the other marshals, generals, and soldiers surrounded the Cherub from all sides.

"Those orange locks... that power, unlike these insects... I see now. You're a filthy descendant of Iz'Raman. I never imagined that his vile blood would persist this long. The same blood he shared with that Aegnid whore who craved nothing but power. You wouldn't even exist if my brother had simply kept it in his trousers," Thranatis said with venomous contempt.

"What is he talking about?" asked Igorus, confused.

"Seraph Edin'Borghia created us all, but one of his three children, one of the three Cherubs, had an intimate relationship with one of our ancestors. A forbidden act at the time. That union gave birth to the Principals. Meleagel is one of them, a superior angel compared to the rest, marked by orange-blonde hair. That's as much as the books say. The rest is a mystery, even to us angels," explained Tarnael.

"A Principal... This is the first I've ever heard of them," said Igorus.

"Their power only awakens in the most extreme of circumstances, like today. But the real reason for their isolation from us isn't just their identity," said Tarnael gravely.

Igorus widened his eyes, waiting for the revelation.

"They must kill angels to activate their Lapis," said Kaela, flying backward to join Igorus and Tarnael as she began fastening her armor once more.

"Kill angels?" Igorus asked in disbelief.

"Look behind you," Tarnael replied.

Igorus turned, and what he saw froze his blood, hundreds of dead angels suspended in the air. Not the work of Thranatis, but the mere consequence of Meleagel's arrival on the battlefield.

"His coming brings death. And angels... they loathe the scent of death, especially when it comes from their own hands," said Tarnael, staring coldly at his palm.

Igorus looked back toward Meleagel, who faced Thranatis with a gaze full of divine fury.

"Meleagel, was it? Doesn't matter. What does matter is that this world should not be ruled by such pitiful, confused creatures as those around us. It needs a true leader. A reformer. Don't you agree? To kill whoever you wish, to act without consequence?" Thranatis began walking toward Meleagel, his tone dripping with mockery as the others instinctively stepped back in fear.

"From what I've heard, your precious king sealed away your powers. You can't use my brother's ancient strength unless you feed on the energy of these wretches. But I'll be generous this once. Join me. If you do, you'll never have to hide again. You'll be the god this world deserves, a god who demands blood and devotion, whose word means life or death. Isn't that what gods are meant to be? The word "god" has lost its meaning. Now it stands for cowardice. Let's restore its true definition, shall we, Meleagel?" Thranatis grinned wickedly, his bloodstained teeth reflecting Meleagel's grim expression.

Everyone watched Meleagel in fearful silence, Tarnael, Kaela, Igorus, Ovidius, Arnkhael, the generals, and every soldier frozen in place by Thranatis' dreadful monologue. Their eyes were fixed on Meleagel, holding their breath, uncertain what would happen in the next few seconds.

"You've built a false idea, Cherub," said Meleagel calmly.

"Hmm?!" Thranatis sneered.

"A god has no need to bargain with a bastard like you," said Meleagel, extending his left hand forward as a radiant orange-yellow light burst forth.

The energy exploded, hurling Thranatis backward with unimaginable force. The resulting shockwave blasted the angels off their feet, scattering the corpses across the battlefield. Igorus shielded his face from the roaring wind, stunned by Meleagel's sheer power. The ground cracked open in a long trench where Thranatis crashed.

In fury, Thranatis unfurled his wings, releasing an airburst that shook the heavens themselves.

"Very well then... Die!" he roared, clasping his hands together before thrusting his right arm forward.

A massive tide of blood, drawn from the corpses of fallen soldiers, rushed toward Meleagel with incomprehensible speed and power.

Meleagel raised his left hand and snapped his fingers, the motion split the oncoming river of blood cleanly in two. The crimson torrent roared past him on either side, leaving him untouched, calm and composed in the eye of the chaos.

As the blood crashed behind him, Meleagel unfurled his wings and launched himself toward Thranatis. The Cherub forged a blade from the blood itself, clashing it against Meleagel's silver sword. The impact shattered the ground beneath them, widening the chasm carved into the sacred earth by their divine power. Both warriors were thrown back. Thranatis materialized a blood-forged spear in his other hand, ready to impale Meleagel, but before he could strike, a glowing rope of Lapis coiled tightly around his arm, halting him mid-motion.

"Tch!" Thranatis hissed, glaring at the one restraining him.

It was Arnkhael, smirking slyly.

"Heh..." Arnkhael chuckled like a fox who had caught his prey.

"(Hmm!? Why can't I move my arm?)" Thranatis thought, bewildered by the sudden drain of his strength.

Seizing the moment, Meleagel drove his sword into the Cherub's abdomen.

'NHHKK!" Thranatis grunted in shock, his gaze lifting just in time to see Kaela, Ovidius, and three generals descending from above beside Meleagel.

"Lapis Altra: Two Wings — Ariadne's Lament!" the five cried in unison.

Before Thranatis, a figure took shape, a nude woman with her hair tied back, her body encased in radiant yellow and crimson Lapis. Meleagel withdrew, giving her the battlefield. Arnkhael extended the rope, binding Thranatis tightly around his chest and back.

"ENOUGH OF THESE TRICKS, YOU BASTARDS!" hranatis roared, tearing through the bindings, but the woman managed to reach him from behind, her hands pressing against his back.

Instantly, his entire body froze.

"Noohkkk!" Thranatis could no longer move a single muscle.

"This technique... it's different from the others," said Igorus in awe.

Lapis Altra formed when several angels combined their Lapis, merging their energies to create an attack many times stronger, the fusion turning their aura a deep, burning red. The woman, Ariadne, embraced Thranatis with both arms, holding him in a divine vice from which he could not escape.

"KHHKK! HAA!!" Thranatis screamed, straining in vain.

But to the angels, it appeared as though he were trapped, until the heavens themselves began to move. A vast portion of the ocean that floated above the sky convulsed, forming into a colossal hand, a titanic hand of water, stretching for miles upon miles, its index finger pointed directly at the manifested Ariadne.

The angels stared in horror, powerless even to flee from the coming catastrophe.

"Damn it! FLY AWAY FROM HERE!" shouted Tarnael, though his voice trembled with dread. The gigantic finger blotted out the sun, descending toward them with divine wrath.

"We can't, Tarnael," said Igorus quietly.

"What!?" Tarnael turned, stunned.

"That hand... it's too enormous. There's no outrunning it. Teleport the soldiers elsewhere, trust me," said Igorus, a rare flicker of compassion in his tone.

Tarnael met his eyes, understanding there was no other choice.

"SOLDIERS! INTO THE PORTALS!" Tarnael commanded, summoning vast golden gates across the battlefield. One by one, tens of thousands of angels and their Pegasi vanished into safety.

"As for that monstrous finger..." Tarnael whispered, watching it descend ever closer. But then, a radiant figure soared upward to meet it, unflinching.

"It must be Meleagel," said Igorus.

:KHHKK!" Tarnael gritted his teeth, helpless.

"Lapis Arts: One Wing — Trombones of Light!"

Dozens of massive celestial trombones materialized across the sky, gleaming with holy brilliance. They began to play, their divine sound shaking the heavens, scattering the clouds, and pouring sunlight through the gloom. The titanic finger of water halted midair, trembling under the overwhelming vibrations.

"HMMF!" Meleagel raised his left hand higher, summoning even more trombones, larger, brighter, resounding in perfect harmony as they unleashed waves of luminous sound against the watery giant.

"So this is his power... He wields sound itself as his weapon," thought Igorus, watching in awe as Meleagel's symphony filled the heavens.

"(Cursed bastard!)" Thranatis raged internally, still trapped within Ariadne's embrace.

Every remaining angel managed to escape through the portals, saved from annihilation. And as the final blast of Meleagel's divine symphony struck, the titanic hand of water recoiled, surging back into the ocean that hung above the sky.

Meleagel had done it. He had stopped the blow of a god.

"The ocean... it's beginning to irritate me beyond reason," said Meleagel, his gaze turning toward the bound Thranatis. "There's only one way to destroy it."

In the next instant, Meleagel appeared before the fallen Cherub, Kaela at his side, followed by Ovidius, Arnkhael, General Anastiel, Lucriel, six other generals, and, standing slightly behind them, King Tarnael and General Igorus.

"What a pitiful sight," Meleagel said coldly, looking down at Thranatis with disdain. "For a being once so majestic as you."

"Even with his absurd power," Ovidius added sharply, "centuries of slumber have weakened him. His stamina is far below ours. And those chains are draining him faster than he realizes."

"Your hunger for power is the very cause of your downfall," said Arnkhael with quiet contempt.

"Heh... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Thranatis burst into deranged laughter. "Me, defeated by worms like you? I've never heard a joke more pathetic!"

But then, in an unexpected turn, Ariadne, the luminous construct holding him, began to shrink.

"W–What's happening!?" Kaela exclaimed.

"Exactly what I intended," Meleagel said calmly.

"What do you mean by that?" Kaela asked, eyes wide as Thranatis absorbed the entirety of Ariadne into himself.

Thranatis clenched and unclenched his fists, testing the newfound surge of energy within his limbs.

"Now... it's time to—" His words broke off as he suddenly coughed up blood.

Everyone except Meleagel froze in shock.

"You're too weak to consume energy in that manner," Meleagel said coldly. "Your ability to absorb Lapis is backfiring, reversed by the very chains binding you. You're finished, Thranatis."

"No! I can still—KHHHHK! KHAAAHK!" The Cherub vomited more blood, an unnatural shade of aquamarine. His mighty form trembled, drained of all divine strength. The angels and generals watched without pity as the once-godlike creature now lay broken and frail before them.

"Hhhhaaahh... Hhhhhaaaahhh... Those eyes..." Thranatis wheezed. "I HATE THOSE EYES... Don't look at me with those eyes... DON'T LOOK AT MEEEEEE!"

He slammed his fists against the ground in a fit of rage and despair, shattering the rock beneath him.

"YOU'RE ALL WORMS! WORMS! FALSE GODS! I HATE YOU—I HATE ALL OF YOU—HAAAARRRGHHH!"

In a frenzy of madness, Thranatis charged toward Meleagel and the others. But before he could reach them, Meleagel, Kaela, Ovidius, Arnkhael, and the generals vanished from his sight, leaving him bewildered.

"What!? HAAH!?"

A glowing portal opened beneath Thranatis' feet, swallowing him whole before he could react, too weak to even spread his wings in resistance. When his vision cleared, Meleagel stood before him, fist blazing with orange Lapis.

The blow struck his face like a thunderclap. The impact shattered his nose and teeth, hurling him backward in a storm of blood.

"KHAAAHK!" Thranatis spat crimson as Ovidius awaited him midair, swinging both of his war hammers down upon the Cherub's wings, breaking them with a deafening crack. Thranatis screamed in agony, feathers scattering like ash as his broken body plummeted.

Another portal opened below him, Kaela emerged on the other side, sword raised high, its blade blazing with concentrated Lapis.

"HAAAH!?" Thranatis' eyes widened in fear.

"Take this, bastard!" Kaela roared, bringing the sword down. The blow crashed against his skull, launching him at terrifying speed toward the ground.

"Hey," came Igorus' cold voice beside the crippled Cherub.

Thranatis turned his head weakly, just in time to see Igorus open his left palm, and engulf him in searing flame.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Thranatis screamed, writhing in agony as divine fire consumed his flesh.

Charred and broken, he lay smoldering at Igorus's feet. Arnkhael extended his ropes once more, flinging the dying Cherub hundreds of meters toward eight waiting generals who stood in formation.

"Lapis Altra: Two Wings — The Torturer of Light!" they chanted as one.

A colossal phoenix, painted in Lapis gold and crimson, materialized in a blaze of radiance. It soared through the air like a divine comet, seizing Thranatis in its talons and opening its beak wide. A torrent of Lapis energy, bright enough to illuminate the entire battlefield, erupted forth, creating a storm that tore through ash and ruin alike.

When the light faded, only silence remained. The scorched, disfigured body of Thranatis fell like a dead bird, striking the molten earth below as the phoenix dissolved into sacred light.

"Is... is he defeated?"

"Impossible! He's dead! He's finally dead!"

"Hahahaha!" the generals laughed in exhilaration, staring at the smoldering remains of Thranatis upon a blackened cliff surrounded by rivers of lava.

"Hahh... hahhh..." Tarnael exhaled heavily.

"We did it," said Kaela, landing beside her brother.

Ovidius and Arnkhael descended as well, joining them near the king. Tarnael looked at Igorus differently now,coldly still, but with a trace of respect he had not shown before, as the latter walked across the scorched battlefield.

Meanwhile, Meleagel remained above, hovering beneath the vast ocean that hung over the heavens. His sharp eyes studied it closely.

(Strange... I can't sense the Cherub's presence. He can't use Lapis anymore, but the sea should have collapsed by now.)

Far below, Thranatis, broken and burned, dragged himself across the ground like a dying lizard, each breath ragged and shallow.

"That bastard must still be alive," Meleagel muttered.

Unfurling his wings, he ascended swiftly toward the ruined kingdom, toward the place where the body of Thranatis was last seen.

"I... can't... end... my... sto... ry... like... thi... i... is..." Thranatis gasped weakly, his voice breaking between coughs of blood and despair. "I refuse... I'll... I'll avenge you... Father... Khhhaaaakk! Khaakhhh!" His words dissolved into choking agony as he dragged himself across the scorched ground.

Then, suddenly, his fingertips brushed against something, something thick and viscous.

"Haahhh!?" His one remaining eye shifted sluggishly, blurring as he stared at the dark liquid pooling beneath him. He raised a trembling finger, smeared it across the substance, and brought it close to his nose.

"Blood... blood... dragon's blood... Heh... Heheheheheh..."

With trembling arms, he reached out and dipped both of his shackles into the black liquid.

"What's he doing?" one of the generals asked.

"Probably just crawling in desperation."

"He's lost. It's pointless to even bother with him now."

"Let's have a look anyway. Maybe we can mock him one last time."

"Yes, let's do it," they agreed, descending from the air toward Thranatis.

As the fallen Cherub smeared the dragon's blood upon his chains, ancient runes, etched in the language of dragons, began to glow a deep crimson.

"Haahh!? What is this feeling?" Meleagel muttered mid-flight, his eyes narrowing as a strange energy rippled through the air.

"Look how pathetic the so-called 'Perfect Deity' has become," one general sneered as he hovered near Thranatis.

"It's useless. Everything he does now is—"

"Wait. What's that?" Anastiel interrupted, eyes widening as the runes on Thranatis' shackles flared brighter with every passing second.

Thranatis forced his upper body upright, supporting himself with both arms pressed to the ground.

"What the!?" one general shouted in alarm.

"He's breaking the seals!"

"Kill him!"

The generals charged up blasts of Lapis energy, but before they could strike—

The shackles shattered.

"What?!" Tarnael's voice trembled as he looked up. The ocean that blanketed the sky began to twist and churn violently, its entire mass shifting toward Saint Zagra, as though being pulled by an invisible black hole.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" Kaela screamed.

"That bastard!!!" Igorus growled, clenching his fists in fury.

"Don't," Meleagel said under his breath, eyes fixed upward. "It's already too late."

Above, the sea, 2.6 million cubic kilometers of divine water, rushed downward, drawn toward Thranatis in a cataclysmic tide.

Across the heavenly realms, angels watched in disbelief as the ocean vanished from their skies. They thought themselves saved, unaware that something far worse had awakened. None of the kingdoms could comprehend where the sea had gone, only that it was gone. The divine beings stood paralyzed, witnessing something far beyond their strength or logic.

The generals ceased their attacks, trying to escape the torrent, but it was futile. The current swept them up like leaves in a storm, dragging them helplessly toward Thranatis.

The heavens emptied as the sea was absorbed into his back. The eight generals were crushed beneath the impossible pressure, their bodies reduced to rivers of blood, which in turn were consumed by Thranatis.

Seconds passed. The trembling of the world itself became a hymn of dread, a testament to life's own undoing, swallowed by the god of the sea.

When it was over, the air grew heavy with an oppressive, choking presence.

Meleagel descended slowly, landing before Thranatis. His expression was uncertain, part fear, part awe. Even he, the most disciplined of angels, felt the suffocating dread of the new presence that filled the air, something infinitely darker than what had stood before.

Thranatis began to regenerate. His skin turned pale white, no longer the color of flesh but of bone. His wings fell limp to the ground, stripped of feathers. From his back, four masses began to push outward, two near his shoulders, two near his lower spine. His skin tore open with a wet, cracking sound as black blood streamed down his legs.

Four monstrous heads emerged, grotesque sea creatures born from his own flesh. On the upper left: the head of a lamprey fish, its jaws spiraled with teeth; on the right: a gulper eel, its mouth wide enough to swallow a man whole. Below, the left side birthed a colossal squid, and the right, a goblin shark, both slick and glistening black.

Meleagel froze in horror as, from each creature's mouth, unfurled a pair of white wings, newborn, soaked in black blood like an infant still wrapped in its afterbirth. The blood dripped from them, hissing upon the scorched earth.

Moments later, the wings spread wide, and hundreds of small eyes opened across their surface, each eye with a pitch-black iris, all staring in unison. At the center of every wing, a massive eye blinked open, weeping trails of black blood that fell like ink.

Thranatis planted his left hand upon the ground and pushed himself upright. His fingernails elongated into black claws; his ears stretched into sharp, elven points, feathers of white, black, and blue sprouting behind them.

He turned toward Meleagel, his enormous eye, now ringed with sacred seals, began to tremble. The rings shattered, melting into the air like molten glass. Then, with a horrific motion, he dug his claws into both sides of the eye.

"AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" he screamed in agony as the eye's fluid burst forth, steaming hot as it cascaded down his face, melting flesh where it touched. Two gaping holes remained where the great eye had been, black blood flowing down to carve dark streaks across his cheeks and mouth.

The sight struck fear even into Meleagel, the fearless soldier of the heavens.

Thranatis unfurled his new wings, droplets of black blood scattering like rain. He ascended skyward, raising his left hand high above his head.

He unleashed a blinding light, so pure, so overpowering, that it burned through the heavens.

"NHAAAHKK!!" Meleagel shielded his eyes with his wings.

"What in the world!?" Ovidius cried, covering his face.

"DAMN IT!" shouted Kaela.

"What's happening!?" Arnkhael demanded, voice trembling.

"Thranatis... he's become far stronger than before," Igorus said grimly, standing before the other angels, shielding them with his brownish wings.

"No way...!" Kaela gasped.

"He's removed the seals," Tarnael whispered in despair. "This could be the end of the world."

High above them, Thranatis hovered in divine radiance. His presence was no longer something the angels could sense, it existed beyond their comprehension, beyond their reason.

A presence so pure, yet so murderous, that by simply perceiving it one could understand its horror. A presence cataclysmic enough to bring an end to history itself.

It is understandable for a child to fear the dark... but the true tragedy begins when even a god trembles before the light...