Chapter 23 Ashes of Divinity

 Lucian POV

The air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and blood. The ground beneath me

was scorched, cracked, and littered with the remnants of what had once been a

thriving city. Caelum was no more; its streets now served as rivers of ash and

rubble.

I stood at the center of it all, unmoving. Around me, demons prowled and

screeched, their forms grotesque and unnerving. They tore through what

remained of the human resistance, their claws shredding armor, their laughter

echoing like a twisted symphony.

This was my doing. My triumph.

Above, the sky remained cloaked in an unnatural darkness, the eclipse's shadow

lingering far longer than it should have. It painted the horizon in hues of crimson

and black, a fitting backdrop to the carnage below.

And then, I felt it—a presence. A force so immense it pressed against my chest

like a physical weight. The shadows ahead shifted, bending and warping, as he

appeared.

The Great Demon King.

He emerged from the swirling void like a nightmare given form. His towering

figure, wrapped in flames that seemed alive, radiated an authority that

commanded silence. Even the demons stopped their rampage momentarily, bowing

their heads in reverence.

He regarded me with eyes that burned like molten gold, his lips curling into a

satisfied smirk.

"Lucian," he rumbled, his voice like thunder breaking the heavens. "You've done

well. Better than I expected."

I didn't respond, my gaze locked on his. The air between us seemed to crackle

with unspoken understanding.

The Demon King raised his hand, his clawed fingers curling as if he were cradling

the world itself. "As promised," he continued, his tone laced with dark amusement,

"your reward. Power beyond mortal comprehension."

Before I could react, an overwhelming force surged toward me. It slammed into

my chest, its energy cold and searing all at once. My knees buckled, but I refused

to fall.

The power coursed through me, tearing at my insides, reshaping me from within.

Every cell in my body burned, yet I could feel myself becoming something… more.

Stronger.

I exhaled, the breath leaving my lungs like smoke from a fire.

"This is what they feared," I muttered, my voice quieter than a whisper but

carrying the weight of a storm.

The Demon King's grin widened. "Indeed. And now, let the world tremble before

you."

The city burned in the distance, its flames licking the horizon like a dying sun.

The sound of chaos was a symphony now—screams, shouts, the unholy cries of

demons unleashed.

And I was at its center, the eye of the storm.

The power gifted by the Demon King coursed through me like a second heartbeat,

steady and consuming. I didn't need anyone else. Not anymore. I had the means

to reshape this broken world, to burn away its lies and hypocrisy.

The devils obeyed my command without hesitation, their loyalty forged in blood

and power. They were mine now, a force unlike anything this world had ever known.

A team? No, I didn't need one. Humanity was nothing more than a failed

experiment—one I was ready to end.

Still, there was something stirring in the distance. A response. Seraphim.

I could feel him even now, his presence like an irritating hum at the back of my

mind. The so-called "hero" of this city, rallying his troops, preparing for his futile

stand. He thought he could stop me.

A laugh escaped me, low and bitter. Seraphim didn't realize he was playing into my

hands. His defiance, his need to protect these people—it would lead him straight

to me, just as I intended.

I turned to one of the demons beside me, its grotesque form kneeling in

deference.

"Scatter them," I ordered. "Ensure no corner of Caelum is left untouched."

The creature hissed in acknowledgment and vanished into the shadows. Others

followed, their monstrous shapes dissolving into the darkness like whispers of

death.

I didn't need allies. I didn't need friends.

I only needed the fire.

The city would fall, and with it, Seraphim's fragile sense of justice. Let him come.

Let him bring his righteous fury and his feeble soldiers. None of it would matter.

As I stood there, overlooking the destruction below, the last vestiges of the

eclipse faded, leaving the sky bathed in an ominous crimson glow. It was a fitting

backdrop for what was to come.

"They'll call me a monster," I muttered to myself, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

"And for once, they'll be right."

The air around me buzzed with the static tension of an impending storm. I could

hear the faint crackle of energy in the distance—a sound I'd come to associate

with Seraphim. His arrival was inevitable, as certain as the rising sun, though far

less welcome.

I didn't need to turn to know it was him. The resolute cadence of his footsteps

cut through the din of destruction, each step brimming with righteous indignation.

When I finally shifted my gaze, there he was—Seraphim, standing at the edge of

the ruined battlefield like a beacon of defiance. His team of awakeners flanked

him, their weapons drawn and their powers flickering in the smoky twilight. They

looked determined, but I could see the unease in their stances.

They weren't prepared for this.

Seraphim's voice rang out, steady and deliberate despite the chaos around us.

"Lucian."

I tilted my head slightly, as if considering his presence for the first time. A smirk

tugged at the corner of my lips.

"Seraphim. Here to save the day, are we? Or has that ship already sailed?"

He didn't flinch. His focus was locked on me, his eyes brimming with that irritating

blend of anger and... grief? Interesting.

The silence between us stretched, broken only by the occasional distant screams

of the damned. Then he spoke again, his voice lower but laced with a fury he was

barely containing.

Seraphim gritting his teeth

"Look at what you've done, Lucian. Is this the justice you spoke of? Is this your

version of a better world?"

I stepped forward, slow and deliberate, letting my presence fill the space

between us. The ground beneath my feet cracked with each step, as though the

earth itself recoiled from me.

"Justice? No, Seraphim. Justice is a fairytale for the naïve."

I stopped a few paces away, close enough to see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

My voice dropped further, a cold edge cutting through the smoky air.

"This is truth—the truth you've refused to see. The world thrives on lies,

Seraphim. Lies and corruption, dressed up as order. I'm not breaking the world."

I gestured to the ruins around us, the smoldering remnants of what had once been

a city brimming with life.

"I'm tearing down its illusions."

His fists clenched at his sides, the air around him beginning to shimmer with

barely contained energy. I could feel the weight of his anger, his need to prove

me wrong. It was almost... pathetic.

Seraphim almost yelling

"You've lost your way, Lucian. Do you even hear yourself anymore? You're trying

to justify slaughter—chaos—for what? Some twisted version of the truth you've

convinced yourself of? What even is truth to you now? What is life to you?"

I let his words linger, the weight of them sinking into the fractured ground

beneath us. Then, slowly, I tilted my head and met his gaze with a faint smirk.

I reply calmly

"Life? Life is a boiled egg."

His expression faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming for a moment, replaced by

sheer confusion.

"What?"

I let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating in the hollowed-out ruins around

us.

"Think about it, Seraphim. What's a boiled egg? A perfectly self-contained thing,

hard on the outside, fragile underneath. You can dress it up, sprinkle a bit of

seasoning on top, maybe make it look appetizing if you care enough. But no matter

how much thought you put into it…"

I stepped forward, my voice dropping to a murmur that carried the weight of

certainty.

"It means absolutely nothing. No matter how many times you try to analyze it or

make it more than it is, it's just... a boiled egg. Life's no different. You can dress

it up with ideals, justice, or even hope, but when you strip all that away?"

I stopped inches from him, my smile fading into something cold and unreadable.

"Life is hollow. A fragile shell. It only exists long enough to break."

Seraphim stared at me, his fists tightening at his sides. His breath came in short

bursts, his composure cracking under the weight of my words.

"You've reduced everything to nothing. Is that all you see now? Nothing?!"

I leaned in slightly, meeting his anger with a calm, unwavering gaze.

"Yes. And that's why I'm not afraid to break it. Unlike you, Seraphim, I've stopped

pretending life is anything more than what it really is: meaningless. But in that

meaninglessness... lies power. Freedom."

The silence that followed was deafening. Seraphim's chest rose and fell as he

struggled to form a response, his resolve colliding with the truth he refused to

accept.

I straightened, letting the moment stretch before finally breaking it.

"You should be thanking me, you know. I'm just finishing what you and your socalled justice were too weak to start."

His power surged suddenly, the air around him igniting with a brilliant flash of

energy. The ruins trembled under the force of his fury, and for the first time

since he'd arrived, Seraphim didn't hesitate.

Seraphim roaring

"Then I'll stop you. Here and now, Lucian!"

I turned back to face him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at my lips.

"Finally."

And just like that, the world around us erupted into chaos.

The fight was poetry in motion—chaotic, destructive poetry. Every swing of

Seraphim's blade came with a surge of light, each arc illuminating the battlefield

for the briefest of moments before darkness reclaimed it.

I sidestepped his next strike, his blade carving into the ground where I'd been

standing just a breath before. Dust and stone exploded upward, and through the

haze, I saw his eyes—burning with purpose, unwavering.

"Still clinging to your ideals, Seraphim?" I asked, my voice cutting through the

din. I countered with a swift strike of my own, the force behind it sending him

skidding back across the fractured ground. "You should know by now that

conviction alone doesn't win battles."

Seraphim steadied himself, dragging the tip of his blade along the ground as he

rose. "And you should know," he spat, his voice tight with effort, "that power

without purpose is a curse."

He lunged again, faster this time, his blade a blur of searing light. I caught the

strike with my arm, dark energy crackling along my skin as it met his weapon. The

clash sent another shockwave rippling outward, tearing through the remnants of

the city and throwing debris high into the air.

"You talk about purpose as if it's something divine," I said, shoving him back. "But

all purpose does is bind you—shackle you to an idea, a dream, or worse, a lie. I've

broken those chains. That's why you can't win, Seraphim."

His response came not in words, but in a relentless flurry of strikes. His blade

sang as it moved, each swing cutting through the air with precision and fury. I

matched him, my movements fluid and unyielding, the clash of our powers creating

a cacophony that drowned out the world.

For every blow he landed, I countered with one of my own. For every moment of

weakness he exploited, I found another in him. We were equals in skill, but I could

feel the gap between us widening with each passing second.

He was fighting to preserve something—to save a world that no longer deserved

saving. I was fighting to destroy it, to rebuild it from the ashes of its own

corruption. And as our battle raged, it became clear: his strength was finite.

Mine? Infinite.

Seraphim's breathing grew heavier, his movements more labored. The ground

beneath us cracked and splintered under the weight of our struggle. Around us,

the demons roared and howled, their voices a symphony of chaos that only fueled

me further.

"You're slowing down," I said, sidestepping another of his strikes. I swung back,

my fist connecting with his chest and sending him crashing into a nearby column.

The stone crumbled under the impact, burying him in a cloud of dust.

For a moment, the battlefield stilled. I stood there, my chest rising and falling

with controlled breaths, my eyes fixed on the pile of rubble where Seraphim had

landed.

"Is that it?" I called out, my voice echoing through the ruins. "The great Seraphim

brought to his knees? I expected more."

The dust began to settle, and from within it, a faint light emerged. Slowly,

Seraphim rose, his armor battered, his blade glowing faintly in his hand. His face

was bloodied, but his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"This isn't over, Lucian," he said, his voice steady despite the strain. "As long as I

stand, there's still hope."

I smirked, rolling my shoulders as the energy within me surged once more. "Hope,"

I echoed, the word dripping with disdain. "Let's see how long that lasts."

And with that, we charged at each other again, the battle far from over.

The battlefield quaked, and the very air grew heavier, charged with an

overwhelming presence. The sky above tore apart as a blinding light pierced the

darkness, cutting through the blackened clouds. I turned my gaze upward,

shielding my eyes from the brilliance. A figure descended, radiant and

commanding, his arrival suffocating the world with its sheer power.

This was no mere god. This was the Supreme God himself.

He landed in the ruins, his presence crushing, his glowing staff in hand. Light

spilled from him like an ocean, drowning the surrounding chaos. His aura wasn't

just divine—it was oppressive, absolute. Behind him, another figure emerged,

stepping from the golden fissure in the sky. The woman who followed him was

calm, serene, as though she stood outside time itself. She didn't need an

introduction; the Goddess of Time, whose whispers had haunted ancient tales,

was unmistakable.

Demon king's flames roared to life as he stepped forward to meet them, the fire

around him flaring in a defiant storm. For the first time, I saw something shift in

his expression—a flicker of rage and something deeper, perhaps betrayal.

"You finally show yourself," he growled, his voice rippling through the air like an

infernal thunderclap. "Come to play savior once again, Supreme God? Or have you

come to silence the truth that you couldn't bury all those eons ago?"

The Supreme God didn't respond immediately. He raised his staff slightly, its

golden light pulsing with an energy that made my own power seem insignificant.

His gaze, piercing and cold, remained fixed on Demon king.

"You've become a shadow of yourself," the Supreme God said, his voice

reverberating like the toll of a distant bell. "You abandoned what you were meant

to be. Now, you're just a creature of vengeance, unworthy of redemption."

Demon king let out a low, guttural laugh that turned into a roar, his flames

spiraling upward like a hellish maelstrom. "Redemption? Spare me your hypocrisy.

Redemption doesn't come from the mouths of liars and murderers. You killed her.

You killed everything worth believing in, and now you call me unworthy?"

His burning gaze shifted to the Goddess of Time, and the fury in his voice

sharpened into something raw. "And you… why? Why did you seal me away? Why

did you abandon me when I needed you most?"

The Goddess of Time's silver hair shimmered under the waning light as she

stepped forward, her eyes meeting Demon king's without flinching. "I sealed you

to save you," she said softly, though her words seemed to weigh heavier than the

Supreme God's judgment. "If I hadn't, you would have destroyed yourself. I did

it because I—"

"Save me?" Demon king interrupted, his voice trembling with a bitter edge. "You

didn't save me. You betrayed me. You left me to rot in the darkness while he

painted me as the monster!" He pointed a clawed hand toward the Supreme God.

"And you stood by, silent. Was that your way of saving me, too?"

Their exchange rippled through the battlefield, but my focus was elsewhere. The

power emanating from the Supreme God was suffocating, pressing against me like

a lead weight. I could feel my skin prickle with the sheer force of his presence,

but it wasn't fear I felt. It was anger. This was the god who watched as his world

crumbled, who let suffering persist under the pretense of divine balance.

And now, they were here, playing out their feud like spoiled children while the

rest of us stood as collateral.

A loud crack split the air as Demon king's flames surged toward the Supreme God,

their intensity unmatched. The Supreme God raised his staff, and a golden

barrier erupted around him, absorbing the inferno with ease. The backlash from

their clash tore through the battlefield, sending debris flying and forcing me to

shield my face.

Their battle had begun.

Light and shadow collided, each blow shaking the ground beneath us. I stepped

back, watching as their powers consumed the battlefield. The Supreme God's

strikes were precise, devastating in their impact. Demon king, however, fought

with wild ferocity, his flames spiraling out of control yet somehow unyielding.

Beside the Supreme God, the Goddess of Time remained still, watching the chaos

with an unreadable expression. For a moment, her gaze drifted toward me, and I

felt a strange unease. Her lips parted slightly, but whatever words she might have

spoken were lost amidst the roar of the battle.

As the ground split and the sky seemed to burn with their clash, I couldn't help

but feel the weight of the moment pressing against my chest. It wasn't just gods

and demons fighting—it was something far bigger, far more primal.

I smirked bitterly. "Life," I muttered under my breath, "is a boiled egg."

A ridiculous thought, but it stuck with me. The more you think about it, the more

you try to peel back the layers, the less it actually means. I glanced at the

battlefield—at the gods, the demons, and the destruction—and felt the irony

settle like a stone in my chest.

No matter how much they fought, no matter who won, it all boiled down to the

same thing: nothing.

Let them kill each other. Let them tear themselves apart. When it was over, I'd

be the only one left standing.

The Goddess of Time's attack landed with devastating precision, golden shards of

the Supreme God's protective aura shattering like glass. His once-unshakable

stance faltered, and for a fleeting moment, the embodiment of divine authority

appeared… mortal.

Thanarion's flames flickered, his burning rage subdued by the sheer audacity of

what he had just witnessed. For a long second, the battlefield stood still, as if

the world itself hesitated to comprehend what had transpired.

"This wasn't part of the plan… or maybe it was," I muttered under my breath, my

fingers flexing at the sight of divinity unraveling before me.

The Supreme God turned slowly, his expression a mixture of shock and betrayal.

His voice, usually so commanding, sounded almost human as he addressed her.

"Aethelis… why?"

The Goddess of Time—Aethelis—stood tall, her face calm yet resolute. Her silver

hair glowed faintly, catching the fractured light of the battlefield. When she

finally spoke, her voice was as steady as the ticking of a clock.

"Why? Because your justice is flawed. Because your truth is a lie."

Thanarion's eyes narrowed, his confusion giving way to a smirk, though it was

tinged with bitterness. "So, the puppet cuts her strings. Interesting. But don't

expect me to applaud your timing, Aethelis."

She turned her gaze to Thanarion, her expression softening. "This isn't for you,"

she said plainly. "This is for what was stolen—for the truth you and I both deserve.

But I owe you nothing."

Thanarion barked out a laugh, his flames reigniting with renewed vigor. "Of course

you don't. No one owes me anything anymore." He turned back to the Supreme

God, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. "But I'll take everything from him

anyway."

The Supreme God raised his staff, his light blazing brighter as his wounds sealed

themselves in a radiant glow. He stepped forward, his voice regaining its divine

authority.

"You would side with this monster?" His words struck like thunder, directed at

Aethelis. "After all I've done to preserve the balance, to keep this world from

falling into chaos, you betray me for him?"

Aethelis didn't flinch. "No, I betray you because you betrayed us first. Thanarion

wasn't the monster—you were. You condemned him, framed him, all to secure your

own power. I stood by, silent, but I won't anymore."

I watched the exchange from the shadows, my mind racing. This wasn't just a

fight—it was a revelation. The Supreme God, the one whose authority shaped the

world, was unraveling before my eyes. And the Goddess of Time, his most trusted

ally, had turned against him.

For the first time, I felt like I wasn't the one pulling the strings.

My gaze shifted to Thanarion. His flames had grown darker, deeper, his power

swelling as if fueled by the betrayal he'd long suspected but never truly confirmed.

"Careful, Aethelis," I murmured under my breath. "You're playing with fire. And

he's not the forgiving type."

The Supreme God thrust his staff forward, light exploding from its tip in a wave

of divine fury. Aethelis countered with a ripple of temporal energy, freezing the

blast mid-air. Thanarion took advantage of the opening, his infernal flames surging

toward the Supreme God with a force that cracked the earth beneath us.

The three of them clashed, their powers tearing the battlefield apart. Time bent

and fractured under Aethelis's control, while light and shadow warred violently

between the Supreme God and Thanarion.

I stayed on the sidelines, observing, calculating. Let them destroy each other. Let

them tear the heavens and hells apart. When the dust settled, I'd step in to claim

what remained.

But as I watched, something inside me stirred—a question I couldn't ignore.

What happens when gods bleed?