The battlefield still smoked from divine fire.
Corpses of angels lay scattered across the snow — shattered wings, broken halos, and pools of silver blood that shimmered like molten light. The air reeked of ozone and sanctity.
Arden stood in silence, watching the ethereal mist rise from Kael's remains. His sword, Blackfang, was drenched in divine ichor. The once-black blade now pulsed faintly with golden veins of light.
"So this is the blood of angels," he murmured. "Pure divine essence… it radiates Qi stronger than dragon cores."
Selene approached carefully, robes torn and face smudged with soot. "My Duke, touching that could corrupt your soul. Mortal bodies can't handle divine purity for long."
Arden smiled faintly. "Then I'll just make my body less mortal."
He knelt beside Kael's broken form. The Archangel's chest still glowed faintly, a dying heart of light flickering within. Arden placed his hand over it and circulated his Qi.
Golden and crimson energy intertwined, hissing like opposing storms. The ground trembled.
His soldiers backed away instinctively as a pillar of energy erupted skyward.
Inside the blinding light, Arden's Qi clashed with divine essence — two opposing forces colliding for dominance. His meridians screamed under the strain.
Images flashed before his eyes: his mortal life, his cultivation years in Murim, his death under a crimson sky, and his rebirth in this world.
A whisper echoed in his mind.
"You dare claim power not meant for man…"
He ignored it, focusing his breath.
"Qi of Heaven and Earth… obey me."
His aura expanded violently, a maelstrom of gold and red swallowing the entire battlefield.
The angelic heart dissolved into motes of light, flowing into his dantian like liquid flame. His veins burned, his skin cracked — yet he didn't stop.
He was forging the first Heavenly Qi Core — a fusion of mortal cultivation and divine essence.
After what felt like eternity, the storm subsided. Arden exhaled a mist of gold, his eyes now faintly glowing with divine patterns.
He stood. "Success."
Ryn whistled low. "You absorbed an Archangel's heart. You're insane."
"Maybe," Arden said, flexing his hand as lightning danced over his fingers. "But now I know how to fight gods."
Later that night, within the Duke's fortress, the grand forge blazed hotter than ever before.
Dwarven blacksmiths, guided by Arden himself, worked tirelessly, melting fragments of angelic armor and feathers. The divine metals resisted ordinary heat, but when Arden infused them with his Heavenly Qi, they began to yield.
"Raise the temperature to six thousand!" he commanded.
The dwarves obeyed, sweat pouring down their faces.
From the cauldron of molten divine metal, Arden drew forth liquid light and poured it into molds etched with ancient runes.
Clang… clang… clang!
Each strike from his hammer resonated through the fortress like thunder.
Selene and Elaris watched from the gallery. "He's forging weapons using divine remains," Elaris whispered, both awed and disturbed.
Selene nodded slowly. "He's walking a dangerous path. The heavens will not forgive this."
Down below, Arden shaped a sword that glowed with both mortal Qi and divine flame.
"You took lives of my soldiers," he muttered. "Now you'll defend them."
When the forging was complete, he raised the weapon high. The air vibrated with divine resonance.
"Behold — the first of the Heavenbane Blades."
A cheer erupted through the forge.
That same night, somewhere far above, in the radiant halls of Heaven — bells tolled.
Seven Thrones glowed in the center of a vast white palace. Upon them sat beings of pure divinity, faces hidden by light.
One of them, cloaked in crimson flame, spoke.
"Kael has fallen. His divine heart was… devoured."
Another voice answered, calm yet wrathful.
"The mortal seeks to become one of us. His soul will unravel."
From the highest throne, a figure with silver hair and wings of crystal leaned forward. Her voice was serene, yet carried the weight of the cosmos.
"No… he will not unravel. He will ascend."
The others turned toward her.
"Celestia, you pity him still?"
Her expression remained unreadable. "He defied the order of Heaven. But I sense something greater… his existence will change the balance."
"Then what do you propose?"
She stood, light cascading like a waterfall around her.
"Send the next choir. And… prepare Seraphiel the Wrathful. The heavens will no longer send messengers — we send executioners."
Arden stood atop the battlements, gazing at the northern sky. Snow fell softly, glimmering under moonlight.
Ryn joined him, resting her head against his shoulder. "You look troubled."
He didn't answer immediately. His hand rested on the hilt of his new sword, the Heavenbane Blade still faintly humming.
"They'll come again. Stronger."
Ryn smirked. "Then we'll kill them again. Stronger."
He chuckled quietly. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not," she admitted. "But we have you, Arden. And I've yet to meet a god who doesn't bleed when you swing a sword."
Her words drew a faint smile from him. "Then let's make Heaven bleed."
The wind howled. Snow danced around them.
In the distance, a faint rumble echoed through the clouds — thunder, or perhaps the beating of celestial wings.
Arden's eyes narrowed. "They're coming."
The Duke of the North turned to his army, his aura blazing once more.
"Prepare the fortress. Gather the mages and alchemists. From now on, every fallen angel's essence will be harvested — and reforged into weapons."
A thousand voices roared in response, echoing across the frozen plains.
And far above, Heaven trembled at the sound.