Chapter 951 — The Weight of Mercy
The ruin of the cathedral burned with quiet light.
Ash drifted through the air like snow, glinting faintly in the dying glow of the chaos core. The ground was fractured glass and molten stone, each step Kael took leaving prints of smoke. The air reeked of ozone and blood.
Franklin lay half-buried beneath a fallen arch, armor cracked open like a shattered reliquary. His once-golden robes were blackened with soot, the polished sigils of his faith smeared into ruin. Even so, his voice came out calm, if weak—a priest giving his final sermon.
"You freed it," he rasped, coughing blood into the dust. "You don't even understand what you've done."
Kael said nothing. His chest rose and fell slowly, evenly, his face a pale mask of fury restrained by sheer will. The daemon's scream still echoed in his ears, the residue of its chaos clinging to him like static.
He stepped forward, his boots grinding shards of crystal into the floor. His sword dragged behind him, hissing where its edge met the stone.
Franklin watched him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "There it is… that look. You think you're righteous, but you're just like me."
Kael stopped.
Franklin's voice trembled, but his words cut like glass. "You believe in peace through control. You shape people. Bend nations. Call it unity, call it hope—it's all the same. You build your paradise on the bones of those who disagree."
Kael's fingers twitched on the hilt. "The difference," he said, voice low and sharp as a blade, "is that I never pretended to be a god."
And with that, he raised his sword.
The steel shimmered with living chaos, blue-white light crawling along the edge. Eris' voice whispered urgently in his mind, her tone both alarmed and curious.
"Kael—don't. You're too close to—"
He ignored her.
Franklin laughed softly, even as the blade hovered a breath from his chest. "Do it. Prove me right. You'll look down at me and see the monster—and the reflection staring back."
Kael's hand trembled. Every muscle in his arm screamed to end it. End the threat. End the fear. End the infection that had haunted his people since the first church war.
The chaos in his veins howled for blood.
"Kael."
Eris' voice wasn't commanding this time. It was soft. Pained. "If you kill him now… what are you freeing yourself from? Him—or what he makes you feel?"
The words hung there, fragile and human in the silence.
Kael's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing, the storm in him flickering. He could feel it now—his pulse syncing with the faint hum of the broken chaos core, the daemon's energy still whispering somewhere in the ashes. He had been so close to letting it take him.
He drew in a sharp breath—and lowered the sword.
Franklin's laugh turned into a rasping cough. "Mercy?" he hissed. "After all this?"
Kael looked down at him, his voice a whisper of iron. "Not mercy. Judgment. You'll live with what you've done. And when the world sees what you've become, even your gods will turn away."
He turned from him, sliding his sword back into its sheath.
Eris spoke softly, reverently. "That was… restraint. You could've ended him."
Kael nodded, though his hands still shook. "And become him."
Behind him, Franklin coughed again, his laughter fading into broken whispers as Kael walked out into the dying light. The allied banners were visible through the smoke now—the Hollow's insignia, Thalren's sea-blue crest, Alaric's iron flame, and Greystone's silver crown. They were converging on the shattered fortress, their forces moving through the wreckage like a tide.
Kael's vision blurred for a moment. The chaos in him stirred, heavy and restless.
He looked down at his gloved hand—the faint veins of energy pulsing beneath the skin—and whispered to Eris, "Tell me… did I do the right thing?"
Eris hesitated. "Logic says yes. But logic also says the daemon's freedom changed you. I can feel it."
Kael's voice darkened. "Changed how?"
"It left a mark. Not corruption—something else. Like a tether. Whatever it was… it's still with you."
Kael's gaze drifted toward the burning heart of the cathedral. "Then we'll find out what it wants. But first…" He straightened, wiping the blood from his face. "We finish what he started. And we end the Church for good."