Apollyon's Resurrection

The world fractured.

Heat roared outward, a silent explosion of force that sent waves of golden fire ripping through the air. The arena trembled, the very stones beneath us groaning under the sheer weight of her presence.

Lelyah stood motionless, her gaze locked on Satoshi's lifeless form. The flickering instability in her eyes deepened, the golden hue swallowing all trace of human recognition.

Declan staggered backward, his shattered sword clattering to the ground, forgotten. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something rare—something close to fear.

"You... what are you?" His voice lacked its usual arrogance, uncertainty lacing his words.

Lelyah did not respond.

The fire did.

With a flick of her wrist, the remnants of Declan's sword melted into slag, dripping between her fingers like liquid gold. The air around her twisted, pressure mounting as the flames surged outward, hungering, searching.

Asmodeus moved first, stepping between her and Chiori. "Auntie! You need to stop!"

She didn't hear him. Or if she did, she didn't care.

Reilan exhaled sharply, steadying her stance. "This isn't right." Her eyes darted to Asmodeus. "She's not controlling it."

The realization settled in too late.

A second wave of heat erupted, sharper, more violent. The torches lining the arena exploded, flames consuming the walls, the stands, the sky itself. The coup that had begun only moments ago—the gathered nobles who had so boldly declared their defiance—were no longer standing as rulers-to-be. They were running.

Lord Dagan's expression twisted with fury, but even he hesitated now. "Saegusa! Call your beast off!"

Hinata remained still, his gaze unreadable. "You misunderstand, Dagan. This isn't just a loss of control—this was designed to happen. Someone deliberately gave Lelyah Cosmic Inhibition, and over the years, they used Calamitas as a catalyst to accelerate it, ensuring she reached the final stage before I could find a way to stop it."

He exhaled slowly, eyes darkening as realization settled over him like a storm cloud. "The symptoms were too consistent. Every setback, every moment of weakness—it was all calculated. The illness should have progressed at a steady pace, but instead, it surged unnaturally, as if something was feeding it."

Reilan turned sharply toward him. "And you never noticed?"

Hinata's jaw clenched. "I suspected. But by the time I had enough proof, it was already too late. Whoever orchestrated this knew exactly how to keep me distracted—ensuring my focus was elsewhere while they tore her apart from the inside."

Asmodeus's expression twisted with anger. "Then who did this? Who would use Calamitas to destroy her like this?"

Hinata's silence spoke louder than words.

Somewhere, in the chaos of fire and ruin, Hinata's mind settled on a single truth. "It was House Dagan," he muttered, voice grim. "All these years, they orchestrated this. They infected her with Cosmic Inhibition and used Calamitas to accelerate its progression—ensuring there was no way for me to stop it in time."

Reilan's breath caught in her throat. "Hinata... Did Calamitas know?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Hinata exhaled slowly. "She did. She told us she contracted it somewhere and was searching for a cure. She didn't just come to train Chiori—she came because I sent a distressed message the moment I realized Lelyah had symptoms of Cosmic Inhibition."

His voice dropped lower, weighted with years of frustration. "For years, the four of us—Satoshi, Lelyah, Calamitas, and I—tried everything. We exhausted every lead, every forbidden text, every healer and scholar who might have given us an answer. But it was all for nothing. House Dagan made sure of that."

Reilan's stomach churned. "They used Calamitas..." she whispered. "And we never saw it coming."

Hinata's expression darkened further, his voice dropping to something dangerously quiet. "It's worse than that. Lelyah isn't just losing control—she has fully regressed. She's become Apollyon again. The Saint of Ruin, without a soul."

Reilan's breath hitched. "No... This isn't just regression—this is erasure. Lelyah's gone, isn't she? There's nothing left of my sister?"

Hinata turned toward her, his gaze heavy with finality. "She will destroy everything in her path. She doesn't recognize us, she doesn't remember our fight to save her. The moment House Dagan set this in motion, they ensured there would be nothing left to salvage."

The statement carried a truth none of them were prepared for. Apollyon was no longer responding to reason, to loyalty, to anything that had once tethered her to them.

And she was looking at Declan.

A slow, hollow breath left her lips. "You are nothing," she murmured, voice devoid of warmth, devoid of life. "A fleeting ember in a dying world."

The air around her warped, the fire bending at her command. "Burn. Like the rest of them."

Reilan lunged. "We have to move!"

Too late.

Lelyah raised her hand, and the flames roared to life.

A tidal wave of golden fire surged forward, engulfing Declan before he could react. He screamed as the heat consumed him, his once-arrogant stance crumbling as he fell to his knees. The ground beneath him cracked and blistered, the stone itself unable to withstand the intensity of Apollyon's wrath.

She moved.

Faster than thought, faster than sight, her form blurred as she closed the distance. A single strike—just a flick of her wrist—sent Declan flying across the ruined arena, his body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch.

He coughed, blood splattering the already scorched ground, but before he could catch his breath, she was there again.

Her hand seized his throat, lifting him effortlessly as if he weighed nothing. His limbs flailed, his strength meaningless against the unrelenting force of Apollyon. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with empty, soulless eyes.

"Is this the best fighter the guild has to offer?" she asked, her voice a whisper of death itself.

Declan gasped, his hands clawing at her grip, his body trembling in agony. "P-please..." he choked out, his voice ragged, desperate.

She squeezed.

Bones cracked.

Then, with an almost disinterested flick of her wrist, she hurled him to the ground like discarded refuse. He landed hard, coughing, broken. The once-proud noble lay in the dirt, his body barely responding as he struggled to move.

Apollyon loomed over him, golden flames swirling at her fingertips. "Begging does not suit you," she murmured. "But I will grant you one mercy."

She raised her foot—and brought it down with crushing finality.

Declan's body went still.

And from the crumbling balcony above, Lady Dagan screamed.

"Lelyah!"

Her voice rang through the inferno, sharp and commanding, the voice of a woman who had never known fear. But tonight, it was cracking.

The nobles who had once stood beside her were already fleeing. The coup she had woven for years was in ruins before it had even begun.

And she knew it.

"Enough of this," Lady Dagan ordered, stepping forward as if she still had control. "You were never meant to be this, Lelyah. You were created for order, not chaos."

Apollyon did not acknowledge her.

Lady Dagan pressed forward, voice rising, trying to regain command.

"You are not a mindless beast," she continued. "You were my weapon—my instrument. You were meant to be precise, not this."

Silence.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Apollyon turned.

Lady Dagan froze.

And in those golden, burning eyes—there was nothing.

"You are not worth remembering," Apollyon murmured.

Then she raised her hand.

Lady Dagan's face twisted in realization, in pure, horrifying understanding. The flames at her feet surged higher. Too high. Too fast.

"No," she breathed.

She turned sharply, trying to retreat, but the inferno had already cut off every path but one.

The path toward Apollyon.

Lady Dagan took a step back, then another. Her lips parted. The smooth, practiced veneer of control cracked. "We can still—"

Apollyon flicked her wrist.

The flames surged forward.

Lady Dagan did not even have time to scream.

The air around Apollyon darkened, shadows twisting unnaturally as the remnants of golden fire licked at the scorched ground. She did not move for a moment, standing over what remained of Declan, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her hand, fingers splaying outward.

Two infernos ignited beside her, swirling vortexes of golden fire that rippled with raw heat. From them emerged her named beasts—Ignis, the Infernal Hound, its molten fur dripping embers with every step, and Solis, the Blazing Serpent, its coiled body shimmering like liquid fire, radiating unbearable heat. The creatures loomed over Declan's broken form, their hunger undeniable.

Apollyon lowered her hand. "Feed."

Ignis lunged first, its molten jaws clamping down onto Declan's leg, searing flesh and bone as a strangled, barely conscious groan escaped his lips. Solis coiled around his torso, tightening like a vice, its burning fangs sinking deep, pumping liquid fire into what little life remained in him. His body convulsed violently, the agony beyond anything he had ever known, his screams swallowed by the inferno that was Apollyon's will.

As the beasts fed, Apollyon stepped forward, raising her hand once more. The golden flames swirled into her palm, molding into shape—shifting, forming. A mask, smooth and flawless, materialized within the fire, glowing with an eerie brilliance. She lifted it to her face, pressing it against her skin. The moment it settled, the flames around her intensified, flickering wildly as if feeding on the very essence of destruction she had unleashed.

When she lowered her hand, the mask remained—featureless, a terrifying void where humanity had once been.

Apollyon had fully awakened.

I couldn't breathe. Every inhale sent agony lancing through my ribs, each beat of my heart a dull, pounding reminder of the damage done. My head lolled against Reilan's lap, the only thing keeping me from collapsing entirely. The firelight blurred and twisted in my vision, the heat from Apollyon's flames mixing with the fevered sweat beading along my skin.

My breath caught. The world tilted.

[The event is irreversible.]

The words slammed into me like a physical force. 

Something inside me shattered.

My fingers twitched, barely. That was all I could do. Move. But I couldn't.

My ribs burned, the pressure in my chest unbearable. I tried to breathe, but every inhale felt like swallowing glass. I couldn't get enough air. I couldn't sit up. I couldn't even reach for him.

My father's body lay just out of reach, but the distance between us felt like an eternity.

Move. Get to him. Do something.

I couldn't.

[Processing… Processing…]

Zaphkiel's voice—once cold, once mechanical—was soft now. Uncertain.

[I do not wish to say this, Master.]

My stomach twisted violently. "Then don't." My inner voice was hoarse, shaking.

[I must.]

[Satoshi Tomaszewski is gone.]

My vision blurred, the edges darkening. My head lolled back against Rei's lap, but I could barely feel her. Could barely hear her. The fire, the screams, the storm of magic—it was all muffled.

"You're lying," I whispered. "You're wrong."

[I—]

Zaphkiel hesitated. Actually hesitated.

[I do not want this to be true, either.]

The world was slipping through my fingers. And I was letting it.

"Rei..." My voice barely came out, hoarse and weak, the one word an effort. Reilan's grip on me tightened, as if she feared I would slip away if she let go. She was staring at the devastation before us, her fists clenched so tightly I could see the tremor in her knuckles. Her breath was shaky, uneven.

"I know," she whispered, her voice unusually unsteady. "This isn't your mother anymore. This is something else."

Asmodeus was the only one who had dared step forward, but even he hesitated. His golden eyes flickered between Apollyon's towering form and the ruins left in her wake. "This... this isn't just rage. She doesn't even recognize us."

I swallowed hard, pain shooting through my body, every movement sending a fresh wave of agony through my battered frame. My breath came in ragged gasps, my limbs barely responding as I forced myself upright.

"I...can't—" My voice broke, hoarse and weak. The world swayed, my vision blurring at the edges.

She turned to me, her jaw tight, her eyes filled with something I had never seen before—fear. "You need to stay awake, Chiori. You can't pass out."

I coughed, tasting iron, my entire body screaming at me to stop. "What do we do?"

Reilan's breath was ragged. "We run. Or we fight something that was never meant to be fought. But you... you can't fight like this. We need to get you out of here."

A cruel, melodic laugh echoed through the flames. It sent a shiver down my spine, sharp and unnatural.

"Run?" Apollyon's voice was smooth, dripping with amusement. "Three children trembling before me... how delightful."

I felt Reilan stiffen beneath me, her entire body coiling like a drawn bowstring. Asmodeus let out a slow, measured breath, his hands twitching at his sides.

Apollyon tilted her head, her golden mask reflecting the inferno around us. "One baring its fangs at me," she mused, her gaze flickering to Asmodeus. "One clinging to life, broken beyond reason..." Her eyes slid to me, and my breath caught in my throat. 

Her attention settled on Reilan, the amusement in her voice fading into something colder. "You're no child. And yet... something about you is wrong. Familiar. And I do not like it. You...irk me to no end.""

pollyon shifted, turning her back to them as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. "Ignis. Solis." Her voice rang sharp and absolute. "You've had your fill. Now kill the children."

The two beasts lifted their heads from what remained of Declan, molten embers dripping from their fangs as they turned toward us. I felt Reilan's entire body go rigid beneath me, her grip tightening as though she could shield me from the inevitable.

Asmodeus lunged forward, lightning crackling in his wake, but before he could reach Apollyon—

Magic crackled through the air, a sudden burst of energy colliding with the ground, sending a shockwave of pure force outward. The flames recoiled, forced back as if repelled by an unseen hand. A golden barrier of raw mana erupted between us and the advancing beasts, halting their movement mid-step.

A figure stepped into the inferno, the fire bending away from his presence, as though recognizing a force far greater than itself.

Hinata

His eyes had never left Apollyon, his stance unwavering as he studied her every movement. He had known this moment would come, yet now that it had, even he seemed to be calculating his next move carefully. This was no mere enemy—this was devastation incarnate, shaped by years of suffering and manipulation.

His blade, unsheathed, gleamed in the flickering light, his stance unshakable. "That is enough Apollyon."

Apollyon turned, tilting her head as though considering whether he was worth acknowledging. Then, to my horror, she smiled—a slow, cruel curl of her lips.

"Oh? And here I thought you'd abandoned your pets. But look at you..." Her gaze raked over Hinata, her expression shifting into something darkly amused. "Older. Weaker. Wiser? No... that was never you. Once, you were a man who refused to be stopped by children. You wanted to be the strongest mercenary, the untouchable blade. But now?"

She took a step forward, flames twisting around her in anticipation. "Now, you shield them. Defend them. What happened, Hinata? Did you finally grow a heart? Or did you just grow soft? Let's see if the man who once challenged me can still stand."