The divine body crumbled.
The moment the Sentinel of Judgment fell, the heavens above seemed to cry out in disbelief. Its celestial light flickered—then extinguished entirely, swallowed by the shadows now poisoning the skies.
Kael stood motionless over the fallen warrior, his sword still humming with the lingering resonance of that decisive blow. Smoke curled from its edge, tendrils of divine energy evaporating into the wind. The shattered head of the once-immortal Sentinel rolled to a halt at Kael's feet, golden ichor seeping into the desecrated soil of Solmar.
For the first time in centuries, a divine warrior had been slain by mortal hands.
And the world itself… shuddered.
The heavens trembled. The skies above twisted. Storms without clouds began to brew—unnatural, divine phenomena tearing at the balance of reality itself.
Across the battlefield, the remaining five Sentinels turned in perfect unison. Their golden eyes, once serene, now burned with unmistakable wrath. They locked onto Kael—no longer a defiant mortal in their path, but a blasphemy in need of erasure.
Their presence distorted the very laws of the world. Grass beneath their feet burned white. Time around them slowed. Space bent, as if recoiling from their fury.
And yet—
Kael smiled.
"Now you're paying attention," he whispered.
A breath passed.
And then—
They moved.
Five flashes of golden light streaked across the battlefield, their forms barely visible to the mortal eye. Each came at Kael from a different angle—blades of sunfire, spears of judgment, and hammers of retribution descending in a synchronized, divine assault.
But Kael was already gone.
The moment before the impact, he vanished—his form warping into mist, flickering like shadow caught in wind.
The earth where he once stood erupted. Debris soared skyward, smoke and light bursting outward in a cataclysmic dome of destruction. Craters tore through the ruined city beneath them, entire buildings vaporized by the celestial impact.
And in that chaos—
Kael struck again.
He reappeared behind the Sentinel of Radiance, sword raised high.
His blade, now pulsating with unholy resonance, descended in a perfect arc—cutting into the Sentinel's shoulder. There was a burst of divine ichor, a flash of celestial blood against abyss-forged steel.
But the Sentinel did not stagger.
Its golden eyes met his.
And without a single movement of its arms—without even blinking—
It unleashed a wave of radiant destruction.
BOOM.
Holy energy surged outward in a blinding explosion, tearing through everything in its path. Temples disintegrated. Stone melted. Air itself screamed.
Selene, watching from the edge of a fractured tower, cried out. "Kael!"
The explosion seemed to swallow everything. It burned away shadow, silence, and doubt.
But then—
From its heart, a voice emerged. Calm. Cold.
"You'll have to try harder than that."
The light fractured.
Kael stepped forward.
Unscathed.
Shadows curled around him like living armor. The Abyss itself shielded his body, twisting through the divine energy like a serpent through light. His silhouette was darker than black—wreathed in something far older than magic.
His sword pulsed—no longer a mortal weapon, but something reborn. A fusion of realms. A blade that had tasted godblood—and hungered for more.
Behind him, the Abyssal Entity stirred.
It had not been idle during the clash.
No… it had been feeding.
Every second it remained in the mortal plane, it drew in the energy of existence itself. Its massive, amorphous body stretched and twisted—limbs expanding, tendrils lengthening, eyes forming and vanishing in rapid succession.
It no longer resembled any known demon.
It was becoming something new.
Something worse.
And then—it moved.
A tendril, wide as a city street, lashed forward. It struck with such force that the air cracked.
The Sentinel of Chains, attempting to shield a fallen brother, turned too late.
The tendril wrapped around its form in a constricting embrace.
And with a single motion—it crushed it.
Golden ichor burst into the sky.
No scream. No resistance.
Just silence—followed by the collapsing of a once-immortal frame.
The Sentinel of Chains was no more.
Another divine fell.
The heavens grew dimmer.
And the balance of power shifted.
From above, Kael observed it all. The battlefield stretched below him—a masterpiece of chaos, destruction, and calculated madness.
But this was no longer just his war.
Across Solmar, all factions were now engaged. The city's streets had become rivers of blood and fire.
The Imperial Knights fought valiantly, forming lines around defenseless citizens. The Holy Templars raised banners that shimmered with divine hope, but that light was quickly swallowed by shadow.
Mages from the Imperial Corps hurled incantations, sending waves of fire, ice, and lightning across the battlefield. The sky itself glowed from their war.
But it wasn't enough.
The moment the Sentinels began to fall—the moment divine blood stained mortal stone—the illusion of safety shattered.
Panic set in.
Soldiers fled. Nobles screamed from behind palace walls. And everywhere… people prayed.
But no answers came.
Because the gods were already here.
And they were dying.
From the top tower of the Imperial Palace, Emperor Castiel stood with trembling hands.
His advisors begged for orders—any orders. But the Emperor's eyes remained locked on the ruin below.
"This… this is impossible," he murmured, his voice hollow. "The Sentinels cannot die…"
But they were dying.
And he knew then, in his heart—
Kael was no longer fighting for survival.
He was fighting to win.
And at this rate—
He would.
Back on the battlefield, Kael descended from the ruined spire of a temple, landing softly on shattered stone. Dust rose around him, parting from his presence.
His eyes swept across the carnage.
Four Sentinels remained.
The Abyssal Entity was growing stronger by the breath.
The Empire's defenses were collapsing.
Everything was proceeding as planned.
Kael turned toward Selene, who stood nearby with her dark robes fluttering in the corrupted wind.
"Signal the second wave," he said calmly.
Selene's eyes widened. "Already? Kael, the first phase isn't even—"
"We strike while they're broken."
She hesitated.
Then, with a nod, she raised her hand and drew a glowing sigil into the air—its lines burning violet and black.
The air cracked.
Moments later—
The second army arrived.
The Dark Court.
From the shadows they came—assassins with faces covered in obsidian masks, warlords wearing the bones of conquered enemies, corrupted spellcasters whose eyes burned with twin colors: red for blood, black for loyalty.
Former imperial generals. Outcasts. Exiled sorcerers.
Kael's true army—the one he had spent years preparing in silence, long before his war began.
They surged forward like a tide of blades and silence.
Where the Empire's forces faltered, Kael's army overwhelmed.
Where hope still lingered, they crushed it.
And above it all—
Kael stood.
Sword raised.
Eyes gleaming with cold certainty.
"This," he whispered to no one. "This is how empires fall. Not in thunder. Not in glory. But in silence… when the gods themselves bleed."
Below, one of the Sentinels—The Harbinger of Mercy—kneeled beside the fallen Judgment.
For a moment, the divine warrior looked up at Kael.
And there was something in its golden eyes that hadn't been there before.
Doubt.
The war between Heaven and Abyss had truly begun.
And Kael—was winning.
To be continued…