Chapter 17
A rare flicker of rage twisted the female head's usually serene expression. Her eyes narrowed, and with a swift motion, her delicate hand lashed out, scattering a cloud of black dust toward the surrounding Ophistu clones.
This was no ordinary ash.
It had once devoured a celestial being. Had once stalled Nebetu'u's own advance when they first entered these forsaken ruins.
And the moment those dark granules touched the Ophistu replicas—
—their bodies dissolved.
Like smoke in a gale, they unraveled, vanishing without a trace. Only the echoes of their fractured hymns lingered, trembling in the air.
Then, from the emptiness, nine sacred beasts emerged.
A colossal bull, its muscles like layered stone, stood with spiraled horns aimed skyward, as if daring to pierce the heavens. Its obsidian hooves gleamed, sharpened by eternity itself.
A horse woven from shadows, its mane a wild, wind-tossed void. Hooves pulsed like living mist, eyes glowing white against the dark.
A hulking, asymmetrical beast, its back half severed by unseen force. A jagged, sickle-like jaw hung low, eyes glinting with feral cunning beneath coarse, striped fur.
A dense, golden-fleshed creature, its stubby trunk curled, tiny tusks jutting like hidden blades. A tail coiled in mystic spirals, as if inscribing spells in the air.
A sleek, pantherine shadow, fur drinking light, visible only by its piercing yellow eyes and the faintest glint of fangs.
A vulture-like horror, wings casting a monstrous silhouette. A bald, elongated neck led to a too-small head, its sickle beak and talons clutching the air like unfulfilled fate.
A sinuous dragon, scales shifting between emerald and abyssal blue. A forked tongue flicked between jeweled eyes, its crowned head radiating regal menace.
A tiny, winged thing, its transparent wings etched with ancient script. Blood-red compound eyes gleamed above an oily, glistening body, never still, never landing.
A small, cotton-white creature, bouncing with unnatural grace. Ruby eyes, oversized ears, and a whiplash tail that danced like a ribbon on the wind.
They circled Nebetu'u, their focus locked onto the trembling male head, the corrupted half of the two-faced child.
The female head remained still.
Watching.
Waiting.
The female head remained excluded, no praise, no reverence, just voices echoing inside her skull. But these weren't soothing. They cut, like a knife twisted slowly.
Each word drove a nail deeper into the male head's temples. His pain swelled, throbbing, unbearable. He wanted to flee, to escape this torment, but his body was locked in place, crushed beneath their undeniable presence.
Then, amid the crescendo of agony, the female head acted.
No shout. No outburst.
Just a single, glacial glance.
That was all it took.
Her hand flicked, wielding an object like a pendulum, but not a pendulum, its wild arcs scattering black dust like ashes from the underworld.
In an instant, the nine sacred beasts vanished.
Erased from memory.
As if they had never existed.
Reality itself shuddered, adjusting to their absence, swallowing all traces of their disturbance. To undo this would be to defy the universe's very fabric.
But before silence could reclaim the air—
—light erupted.
Nine beams, from nine directions, lanced down from a suddenly fractured sky. They struck Nebetu'u's small body with searing heat, avoiding only the back, as if an unseen hand had deliberately spared that spot.
This wasn't just holy power.
Something darker slithered within the assault.
Demonic authority fused with divine radiance, birthing a pain so alien it even rattled the usually unshakable female head. Discomfort gnawed at her, relentless.
Nebetu'u was thrown back, their small form slamming into the castle wall with a crack.
The impact left a mark, not a wound, but a symbol seared into their skin.
No cross.
Something else.
The walls trembled, as if sharing their suffering.
A voice boomed, "Nebetu'u, a flawed creature, split between two powerless heads. You thought your petty black dust and antique pendulum could banish those sent by Heaven?"
Laughter, cold and mocking.
"Every step retreating is by His leave. Every moment unfolds within His design, a grandeur your shadow-stained mind could never fathom."
A pause. Then, sharper.
"Your gratitude is a joke. No one wants your pitiful praise."
The female head's fingers twitched.
"You're just a sanctimonious sycophant. Even if commanded, must you insist on being so … extra?"
Another voice, dripping with false sympathy.
"The mark on your back? A mercy. To remind you how insignificant your 'virtue' is in the wake of true purity."
The male head whimpered.
"You're less than dust beneath the feet of winged messengers. Your 'exorcism'? A child's clumsy pantomime."
To be continued...