Chapter 970 – The Godslayer Returns
The dawn broke pale and silver over the ruined plains. What had once been a battlefield now lay quiet, the air still trembling with the fading echoes of power.
And through the settling dust walked Kael.
His armor was torn, his blade half-melted and blackened from divine flame. The wind hissed through the jagged earth as he passed, each step radiating a strange, alien gravity. The others followed behind him—Lyria, Eris, Zerathis, Serenya, and the wounded true dragon that was his aunt—each of them feeling it.
His aura.
It was… different.
Where Kael once carried a presence that burned like a storm of chaos barely contained, it now pulsed slower—deeper. It wasn't loud or wild anymore. It was vast. Heavy. A quiet, terrifying calm that made the soul quiver if you stood too close.
Even the daemon soldiers who waited at the edge of the battlefield instinctively bowed their heads as he passed. Not out of command. Out of instinct.
"Is it just me," Serenya whispered, "or does he feel… older?"
Eris, walking just behind Kael, nodded slowly, her crystalline eyes wide with quiet wonder. "Not older," she said softly. "More complete."
Lyria said nothing. She could feel the faint hum of Kael's aura brushing against her own—like standing too close to a star. It was all she could do not to shiver.
By the time they reached the Hollow, word had already spread.
The gate guards froze when they saw him—ashen, bloodied, his eyes glowing faintly like burning embers.
"Lord Kael…?" one stammered.
Kael only gave a tired nod. "Open the gates. We're home."
The Hollow erupted with motion—healers rushing to meet them, soldiers parting to clear the path, civilians whispering in awe. His aunt, in her humanoid guise, was barely conscious when they carried her to the infirmary. Her scales—what little showed—were cracked and blackened, but still shimmered faintly with golden light.
Kael personally saw to it that she was given the Hollow's most private chamber and guarded by his most trusted sentinels.
"Keep her safe," he told the healers. "She's family."
Then, finally, after ensuring everyone had returned alive, Kael dismissed the council and retreated to his private quarters.
The room was quiet, bathed in amber lamplight.
Kael sank into his chair and let out a long, heavy exhale.
For a long moment, he simply stared at his hands. The same hands that had just ripped the heart out of a god. They still trembled faintly—not from fear, but from memory.
Then he laughed.
At first it was a low chuckle, disbelieving. But then it grew, rising into a full, genuine laugh that echoed through the empty chamber. He leaned back, head in his hands, his laughter turning ragged with exhaustion and disbelief.
"Hah… I actually did it," he muttered, grinning like a madman. "I killed a god."
The grin grew wider. "And somehow, not a damn soul noticed."
He chuckled again, softer this time, the exhaustion finally settling into his bones. "Two kingdoms at war, a dragon rescued, a god burned to dust—and I'm still just a name whispered in rumor."
He exhaled, the sound halfway between a sigh and a quiet, contented growl. "Perfect."
For the first time in what felt like years, Kael let himself relax.
No councils.
No crises.
No gods.
Just peace.
He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, the faint hum of his aura thrumming around him. It was no longer the chaotic fire that once consumed him—it was stable, almost serene.
But underneath it… there was something vast.
Something awake.
And as he sat there, Kael couldn't help but smirk faintly. "Let them come," he whispered under his breath. "I'll be ready."
The lamplight flickered, and somewhere deep within the Hollow, the shadows rippled in quiet agreement.