Chapter 70 - The Last Flame

Smiling with their bloodstained teeth, the flesh of their faces split open to form mouths, while their pale skin wept crimson tears that streamed beneath the jaws of the archangels. These monstrosities unfurled their wings and took flight like a swarm of bees whose hive had been disturbed by something utterly malevolent. Beneath their wings lay thousands of shattered bones, the torn bodies of angels, their flesh and organs scattered in the most grotesque and unspeakable ways imaginable. Children, women, the elderly, and men who were not soldiers, now martyrs of a divine tragedy.

Thranatis soared above the avalanche of archangels, gazing upon the army he had forged, pride etched upon his face.

"I can't believe this... I refuse to believe it..." whispered Tarnael, traumatized by what he saw.

The creation of an Archangel had always been a taboo, not impossible, but forbidden. To create such a being, a simple angel must consume the blood and flesh of two others, by whatever means necessary. The completion of this damned ritual gives birth to a divine creature that knows only one instinct, to kill everything it sees.

"TARNAEL!!!" cried Igorus in despair, clutching Kaela in his arms.

But the king of angels could barely process the nightmare before him, tens of thousands of archangels flying straight toward him. He was utterly resigned.

"Ironic... Death, by my own kind... Perhaps this is punishment... Perhaps... I deserve this judgment," murmured Tarnael, surrendering himself completely to the divine cannibals swarming toward him like a flock of swallows in search of blood, not wine.

"Drami Skriva — Aterun Tibdina," came Meleagel's voice beside Tarnael.

"Meleagel..." whispered Tarnael, stunned.

"Get out of here!!!" shouted Meleagel.

"What?" Tarnael asked in disbelief.

"Our people need you. So get lost, don't die today. NOW GO!!" roared Meleagel, seizing Tarnael by his cloak and hurling him away.

"No... MELEAGEL!!!" screamed Tarnael in anguish.

"Fool... NNNNHHHHKKKKKKKKK!!!" With great effort, Meleagel managed to regenerate the wings he had once lost, just as the archangels were only a few meters away. Igorus, seeing this act, flew past the Principal, carrying Kaela in his arms.

"Thank you, Dominion..." said Meleagel as he watched the horrifying army of archangels, and Igorus, passing beside him, opened his eyes wide in silent acknowledgment of the words he had just heard.

"No... MELEAGEL, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!!!" Kaela cried out desperately under Igorus's arms.

"Tch!" Igorus gritted his teeth, furious at his own helplessness, unable to aid the Principal, able only to save Tarnael and Kaela. He grabbed Tarnael by the cloak and flew away from the scene, consumed by despair.

"What are you doing? Let me go!" shouted Tarnael, but Igorus ignored him, flying high above the corpses of the fallen angels.

"Didn't you notice I've activated a technique?" said Meleagel calmly as enormous cello strings tore through the heads of every archangel they touched, like worms burrowing beneath the ground.

Meleagel controlled them with his left hand, extended toward the approaching swarm. Yet the archangels managed to seize the colossal strings with their hands, showing that they had already adapted to his technique, and began tearing the cords apart with their carnivorous teeth. Hundreds more dove toward Meleagel. One of them tried to strike him with its claws, but Meleagel ducked low and punched the creature beneath the jaw, shattering its skull with a single blow. Another lunged to bite him, but he twisted its neck and kicked the body into the ground.

The archangels attacked him with feral frenzy, relentless, and Meleagel responded to each assault with lethal precision: striking their chests, their stomachs, crushing bones with red Lapis energy that radiated from his hands. But their numbers were overwhelming. Many slipped past him, flying toward Igorus, who still carried Kaela and Tarnael.

Thranatis watched the entire spectacle from his podium high in the sky, noticing several archangels veering in his direction.

"Disgusting creatures," he muttered, stretching forth his two dark claws. The archangels were instantly obliterated into thousands of fragments within a single second. Then, as if nothing had happened, Thranatis turned his gaze back to the main event, inspired.

"Drami Skriva — Bartra dasr Yliva," chanted Meleagel, and colossal black towers descended from the heavens, crushing the archangels beneath them like insects, especially those pursuing Igorus.

"NHKKH!" Meleagel cried out as an archangel sank its teeth into his left arm, forcing him to pry open its jaws with such strength that he split its skull in two, killing it instantly. Blood poured heavily from his wound as the archangels surrounded him on all sides.

"HAAAHHHH!!!" Meleagel unleashed crimson Lapis energy, blasting the creatures back several meters, but instead of fear, it only made them hungrier.

"Drami Skiva — Torikn—"

"KHAHHHHKKK!!" Meleagel's body convulsed as a sharp stream of dark water pierced his heart. He looked ahead and saw, in the distance, Thranatis, his finger pointed straight at the Principal.

"It was somewhat entertaining, divine filth," said Thranatis coldly, watching as the archangels tore Meleagel apart alive. The Principal's right arm was still raised toward the monsters, his body devoured piece by piece like dead flesh torn by a frenzy of starving piranhas.

"Meleagel... is dead..." murmured Igorus in mourning. Kaela and Tarnael flinched at his words.

"IGORUS!!!" screamed Kaela a moment later, spotting hundreds of ravenous archangels flying straight toward the three of them.

"Tarnael, can't you do something?" shouted Igorus.

"I've barely any Lapis left to use! And even if we teleport away, the archangels will find us again, their senses are terrifying! They're getting closer!" Tarnael yelled in panic.

"At this pace, they'll catch us. They'll eat us alive!" cried Kaela, trembling.

"Open a portal. Hide there with your sister," ordered Igorus, his voice urgent.

"What are you saying?" asked Tarnael, confused.

"JUST DO IT!" roared Igorus, his tone sharp with desperation as he grabbed both of them by their robes and hurled them toward the ground, turning back to face the oncoming hurricane of archangels.

"You've gone mad! There's no way you can defeat them!" shouted Tarnael as he and his sister hit the barren earth hard, scrambling to their feet.

"What is he doing?" Kaela gasped, watching Igorus extend his right arm forward, more precisely, just the index finger of his right hand, toward the horde of archangels now only meters away.

"IGORUS!!!"

"DOMINION!!!"

Kaela and Tarnael screamed in despair.

"What is he planning to do?" wondered Thranatis aloud, intrigued as he observed Igorus's sudden and incomprehensible gesture.

Just before the archangels could reach him, Igorus allowed a faint, almost cruel smile to curve across his face. His eyes closed slowly, serenely. The creatures were mere centimeters away, ready to tear the general apart alive, but then...

He found himself in a place utterly void.

White, so white, so blindingly pure, that it left him breathless, unable to think at all.

"Where am I?" murmured Igorus, realizing he stood completely naked, suspended in this unknown realm.

"What is this place? It's cold... yet burning hot at the same time. I feel weightless, but also heavy... What has happened to me?" he kept asking himself, his voice echoing endlessly through the blank expanse.

"Hagria Rayuka. I believe it be thy first time treading here."

The voice of a woman rippled through the void.

"A woman's voice... You must be one of the Kindu," said Igorus.

"The First Kindu, Mayatra," the being declared, materializing from the air itself. She wore a simple white gown, devoid of ornament. Her dark green hair fell freely, two thick locks resting upon her brow. Her eyes, glowing a deep red, seemed able to read even his thoughts.

"The Kindu of Fire... of course it would be you who'd appear," said Igorus.

"Knowest thou the reason thou standest before me?" asked Kindu Mayatra.

"I feel as though I already have the answer... yet somehow, I don't. I've never understood why I push myself beyond my limits. Why I set goals I know I cannot reach."

"Dost thou believe thou art here because thou fearest failure? Thou seekest perfection in thy life, yet something within thee refuseth to let thee attain it?" asked the Kindu.

"Perhaps... perhaps I fear myself. Or maybe I fear what I do not yet understand about the world around me," Igorus replied quietly.

"Tell me, what thinkest thou the victims saw in the final moment before death at thy hands? A monster? A righteous god? A warrior? Or merely... an empty shell?"

"Empty... That's why this world is empty... This is my Hagria Rayuka."

"Why thinkest thou thyself empty? Hast thou not a wife who loveth thee? A child who meaneth all to thee? A position that crowneth thy achievements? Doth this emptiness stem from not knowing the true reason for thy existence?"

"Isn't it to protect my people, my family? Isn't that my purpose?"

"That is what thou tellest thyself. But what is it thy soul truly desireth?"

At her question, the entire world shifted.

Igorus suddenly stood atop a mound of corpses, hundreds of thousands of them, while beneath the heap, a mirrored pool reflected his face not as flesh, but as a mass of black flame. Jagged mountains hung suspended in the sky, their peaks impaled with upside-down bodies, each one staring at him from the corners of their hollow eyes.

"Now thy Hagria Rayuka is no longer empty. It reflecteth thy true self. I see it clearly, thy soul yearneth for death and tragedy. The dark flame is what thou art within. 'Tis what thou truly art. 'Tis what these wretches saw before their end. Tell me, how doth it make thee feel?" Mayatra asked, standing atop the corpses.

"I don't blame them. Perhaps I deserve to be here. All these people had dreams, loves, futures... lives of their own, and I took them, as though they meant nothing," Igorus said, gazing into the dark fire rippling within the mirrored water.

"For what reason thinkest thou hast slain them?"

"I don't know, truly. Perhaps... I destroyed other people's dreams so that mine could live. But now, my only dream is to protect my son. I don't want him to become a monster. I don't want him to suffer. So I'll take his suffering upon myself. I'll be the monster, in his place."

"And in so doing, fulfill the fate that was meant for him? Thy son? 'It is his burden, why takest thou it upon thyself?' That is what all others would say. That is what thy brother, Kaies, would have said."

Igorus' eyes widened at the mention of his brother's name.

"Dost thou think thy brother would wish to see thee thus, so desperate, chasing a purpose so... condemning?"

"Of course not. But he's dead now. There's no reason to seek approval from one who's gone, is there, Kindu?" said Igorus, locking eyes with Mayatra.

The Kindu studied him closely, intrigued, her hands clasped tightly.

"So... hast thou understood, Igorus, why thou drivest thyself beyond reason? Why thou seekest to bear a purpose beyond mortal logic? Why thou long'st to be the villain?"

"Yes. I've realized I'm not empty. No one is. Not even Kaies' lifeless body. Even now, I still hear the melody he used to sing to me, the one about the cherry trees blooming in Miskulruk. The yellow cherries. I can still hear his spirit calling my name. I wish he were here with me now... but all I see are faces I do not know. And so it shall be forever. The unknown faces... sealing my fate."

"And that fate is?"

"The fate of a broken god."

"Art thou ready to accept me, Igorus?" asked Mayatra, stepping slowly toward him.

"Yes. I'm ready, to accept it all. Father... Mother... Kaeda... Kaies... Voidanos... forgive me. I've decided. I'll be the monster. Forgive me, my son, for stealing your title," whispered Igorus as Mayatra embraced him.

Far in the distance, atop the mountain of corpses, Voidanos stood weeping as he gazed down at his father, surrounded by unnumbered bodies, amidst the ashes of burnt dreams. Like a single flower blooming after a forest fire.

"Farewell... my son... These are... my final flames."

Igorus opened his eyes, only to see the archangels mere centimeters away from him, weeping in disbelief.

"Fernia Relica Kriagna — Mrasu Dniagame."

The archangels froze mid-flight, sensing that something was terribly wrong. The ground beneath them began to tremble with an unnatural quake. The clouds dried and evaporated under a sudden, searing heat.

"Don't tell me...," whispered Thranatis, horrified.

"What is he doing?" asked Kaela.

Tarnael quickly tore open a portal.

"Get in! Now!" he shouted.

"But why?"

"Get in before you turn to ash! That cursed Igorus, he's going to burn our entire race alive!" Tarnael cried out in panic.

"What?! But what about the other angels? What will happen to them?" Kaela screamed.

"There's no time! Move!"

High above the heavens, fifteen colossal two-faced angelic statues appeared, each bearing different expressions, sorrow, rage, ecstasy, despair. Carved with veins of red, black, and white, the colors of fire itself, they seemed to pray with two hands while the other two were poised to unleash a cataclysmic strike upon the angelic dominion.

"It's impossible! He can't possibly activate the Kriagna! Only the Kindus have that power. It's a deadly technique!" Thranatis shouted, his voice breaking with disbelief.

Igorus watched the archangels scatter like frightened ants touched by divine fire, aimless, desperate, driven only by instinct to survive. They fled in every direction, but there was no escape.

"I will not let you destroy my world!" screamed Thranatis as he surged toward Igorus.

Igorus raised his hand, and the statues obeyed.

A monstrous eruption of fire, in every color of the rainbow, burst forth from their praying hands. The blaze was so hot it could have melted even molten lava, as though the very core of the sun had been torn open and unleashed upon the world.

"Die."

The word escaped Igorus' lips as the statues released their devastating firestorm.

"AAAHHHHHH!" screamed Thranatis, his wings burning to cinders as he tried to fly through the inferno, but the flames devoured him whole.

The blast was faster than sound, sweeping across miles in mere seconds. Angels were incinerated, their bodies reduced to vapor before their screams could even echo. The fire consumed everything, homes, streets, temples, trees, villages, forests, even the mountains themselves melted under the unbearable heat.

The statues rained destruction in perfect formation, circling above Igorus like divine executioners, burning everything within their massive radius.

"What's happening?"

"Why is it so hot?"

"What is that light?"

Angels throughout the kingdoms whispered in terror as the horizon turned orange and the sky itself ignited. A hurricane of fire swept across the heavens, devouring every divine being in its path.

In one kingdom, a young angel boy and girl confessed their love to each other as the multicolored flames bloomed on the horizon. They held hands tightly upon the green earth, watching the sky burn, their love sealed in that final moment.

In a cathedral, a choir of angelic women sang hymns as stained-glass windows melted from the heat of the Kriagna's fire. Their songs were silenced in an instant as the flames swallowed the icons, pews, and altars whole. Statues collapsed, temples shattered, streets fractured. Angels fled in chaos, but it was futile. Every kingdom, every proud dominion, faced the same fiery end.

The inferno was a farewell. A divine farewell to a world once ruled by righteousness and grace. The rainbow fire carried a single message: the end of the angels has come.

King Ardael sat trembling upon his throne, staring into the blazing horizon beyond Maxres. His hands shook uncontrollably. His reign, his pride, his very worth as a ruler, all were about to be reduced to nothing.

Sregiel clung to the royal bell towers, ringing the bells with all his strength, desperate to warn his people. Angels of the Oradenera kingdom screamed to one another, urging escape from certain death.

Lirtelia watched silently through her window, transfixed by the surreal beauty of what she saw. She could not comprehend it, yet she could not look away.

Dimitrel laughed hysterically as he gazed upon the flames, perhaps he had always dreamed of such a day.

Martanel prayed feverishly before a statue in the image of Edin'Borghia, surrounded by terrified believers who begged for salvation from the divine madness consuming them.

Alexandrel sat calmly on his throne, sipping the last glass of wine he would ever taste.

Angels burned alive. Others took their own lives in despair. Some turned upon each other in blind panic, killing one another as they tried to flee the unstoppable blaze.

Kingdom after kingdom fell, reduced to molten ash. The fire was so hot, at least 80,000 degrees Celsius, that even the seas surrounding the angelic nation began to evaporate.

The once-sacred empire of Saint Zagra was now nothing more than scorched wasteland. The bridges that connected the kingdoms, the forests, the mountains, all gone.

An entire civilization was erased.

The statues of Merthuzana'Im melted into the rivers, turning them to streams of lava. Birds burned mid-flight; in that moment, they were no different from the angels. Pegasi searched for their riders, only to fall lifeless, their wings too scorched to move. The Cape of Sorrow was obliterated. The memories of Simonaela were gone forever.

The prayers of the Kriagna statues silenced the prayers of this entire world.

Igorus, now floating weakly amid the towering statues, looked upon the devastation below with a gaze that spoke more than any philosopher's words ever could.

Across the world, even beyond Ladnoria, the air grew warmer. The Guhojre Forest began to burn from the sheer pressure of the heat. Its trees withered, its leaves crumbling into dust. Animals perished from dehydration and suffocation.

The angelic nation was completely devoured by Igorus' flames. A quarter of the island became a barren desert, waiting in vain for a divine oasis. Four-fifths of the trees in Guhojre were gone. The mighty Nauthvells collapsed from exhaustion, crushing dozens of eclipse-trees beneath them.

The statues fell to earth, shattering into fragments. The temperature slowly began to drop as minutes passed.

Amid the melted wasteland, Igorus descended, his body frail, broken. One arm hung uselessly, its flesh torn, a reminder of his unnatural transformation. Exhausted beyond reason, his body marked by deep burns from overusing the Fernia, he struggled to breathe.

He knelt upon the scorched ground, chest heaving, barely able to keep his eyes open.

In that silence, amid the ashes of a god's wrath, Igorus was left fragile, trembling, and utterly alone.

"W-What... what have I done?" whispered Igorus, his voice trembling and frail as his eyes wandered across the apocalyptic landscape, the testament he had carved into existence with his murderous fire. He slowly lifted his gaze, and through the shimmering heat haze, he caught a glimpse of a shadow gliding across the sky, a being surrounded by revolving wheels of light. The figure held a white staff, cloaked in darkness, its wings cracked and rigid, fractured in places. Then, just as suddenly, the shadow vanished.

Two footsteps echoed through the molten ruins of the statues. Igorus turned his head weakly and saw Thranatis staggering toward him. His wings were scorched, his skin charred black, the eyes once embedded within his feathers now shriveled and dry. Blackened blood marked every step he took. His teeth showed through burned flesh, bones and sinew exposed, a being hovering at the brink of death, sustained only by his will to kill Igorus.

"Ba...stard..." Thranatis rasped, coughing up dark blood.

"You... think... you can... defeat me... with just... those flames... Curse you... IGOORRR—!"

But then, a soft, melodic voice echoed through the haze.

"In the distant hills of Miskulruk,
The yellow cherries bloom and look,
In magic silence, sweet delight,
Their scent drifts gently through the night."

"What? W-Who's there?" Thranatis demanded, startled by the song coming from within the glowing mist, its melody distorted by the rising heat.

Igorus froze, his breath caught in disbelief. He knew that voice.

Oh yellow cherries, hidden gold,
Beneath the forest, bright and old,
The river hums a lullaby,
Beneath the calm and golden sky.

In every fruit a story sleeps,
As old as time, as fresh as breeze,
Each tender bite a secret smile,
A promise sung through dusk's last mile.

"N-No... it can't be... That song..." Igorus whispered, wide-eyed.

Oh yellow cherries, hidden gold,
Beneath the forest, bright and old,
The river hums a lullaby,
Beneath the calm and golden sky.

When night descends, you softly gleam,
The moon enchants you in her dream,
Your shining fruit lights every heart,
In Miskulruk, a sacred art.

Oh yellow cherries, hidden gold,
Beneath the forest, bright and old,
The river hums a lullaby,
Beneath the calm and golden sky.

"Impossible... It's you! Curse you! Curse you, Dar—!" screamed Thranatis, charging forward like a beast through the haze. His broken claws slashed wildly at the silhouette approaching him.

But the figure caught Thranatis' wrist effortlessly, stopping his strike with nothing but his fingers.

"NHOOKKH!" Thranatis gasped, stunned by the sheer power in that grip.

"You've done far more than you should have, spoiled brat" said the stranger calmly. He drew a sword from his belt, and with one blinding, graceful motion, cut Thranatis cleanly in half.

Igorus watched in horror as the two halves of Thranatis' body fell to the scorched earth, melting away in the searing heat. The cherub had met a pitiful end, fitting for a god who had drowned in his own arrogance.

The stranger stepped forward, revealed at last. He wore a white medieval coat streaked with yellow trim, crisscrossed with brown belts and silver clasps. His hair was a striking blue, his skin a pale gray, his eyes a vivid golden hue, the left one covered by a yellow-tinted monocle. Sliding his blade back into its sheath beneath his coat, he regarded Igorus quietly.

"W-Who... are you? How... How do you know that song?" Igorus asked, barely able to speak.

The stranger smiled faintly, removing his monocle and looking at him with a strange warmth in his golden eyes.

"It's been a long time, brother," he said...