An existence said to rival the divine itself had appeared!
Aboli floated in the distant sky, lowering her gaze upon Violeta. The wind tossed her hair into a ghostly silhouette, yet her eyes remained visible—eyes of pure, radiant silver, with no whites or pupils. At their corners stretched markings shaped like delicate feathers, long and soft, extending to her ears in a faint blue hue.
She curved her lips, one hand brushing her mouth as her body tilted slightly.
"My, my... your trembling appearance truly makes pity you. A sha I cannot let you taste more pain, as one of your pursuers should. To let an insect grow to this point is truly the fault of all of Zone 1."
Violeta let out a shrill, reverberating cry, as though it had sensed the threat. The cloak ford of its countless swords suddenly fell away, each blade rising as though alive, floating in the air, their tips all pointed at Aboli!
"Struggling until the very end? I truly comnd your will." Aboli laughed. At that mont, the blades tore through the air, over a hundred of them, forming a storm of tal ant to bury her whole.
But Aboli only smirked. Her most enormous wings folded sharply, unleashing a gale that shattered Violeta’s swords. And in the sa instant, her body vanished. In the blink of an eye, she appeared before Violeta.
Violeta couldn’t even react to such speed. Everything seed to slow down. Aboli bent her knee, leaned forward, lifted her hands, and stopped just before the halo of thorn-like radiance crowning Violeta’s head.
Her lips curled upward. She suddenly clapped her hands.
"Boom!"
An explosion of energy erupted, silver light soaring into the heavens in a pillar over twenty ters high! The shockwave burst outward, engulfing a radius of five ters.
At its center, Violeta was torn apart. Its halo shattered into fragnts, its wings devoured by the silver energy. Its five-ter-tall body ripped into pieces, hurled over ten ters away, crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. Broken machinery sputtered with error noises, unable to move even an inch.
"Your strongest attack couldn’t kill . To kill you, I needed only a snap of my fingers."
Aboli spoke without restraint, not even sparing a glance at Violeta’s chanical corpse.
Following her own senses, she flew toward the edge of the Athena estate. Violeta had quietly warped Louis away earlier—but what did it matter? The ultimate victor would be none other than her.
Her lips curled in a smile as she descended. Yet her feet never touched the earth; she hovered a ter above the ground, drifting forward slowly.
At that mont, Luna’s protective barrier around Louis had already crumbled. Sylus, flung aside by Violeta’s earlier strike, could not even understand how he had survived it—perhaps because he, too, was a monster?
But now, he was sure he was about to die.
With nearly the last of his strength, he crawled toward Louis, reaching him just before Aboli did, grasping Louis’s hand.
His hands were drenched in blood, bone jutting out.
Sylus tilted his head back, seeing the figure drawing near. His pupils quivered—the sa trembling that had haunted him ever since he first laid eyes on Aboli, only growing stronger when he saw her first pair of wings. The sensation hamred into his mind.
Aboli shone ever brighter in his blurred vision, dazzling to the point of pain. She burned into his eyes and heart until nothing remained within him but her.
This feeling... so strange.
Sylus suddenly furrowed his brows. His heart clenched in a sudden, stabbing pain, pounding so fast it felt as though it would leap out of his chest. Wave after wave of agony crashed into his mind, spreading through his entire body—as if, even in death, he was dood to endure this final tornt.
That beautiful figure of Aboli drew ever closer.
Ah... how beautiful. White. Radiant. Like a true angel of the world, untouched, unmatched—no color could outshine her.
So beautiful.
Then why... why was his own hair so gray?
Why... why were his eyes so black?
Sylus’s vision grew increasingly blurred, yet Aboli’s brilliant form remained painfully clear.
It hurt. Gods, it hurt. The dazzling existence before him seed to be saying sothing, but he couldn’t hear. Too many voices—his head was filled with voices.
"Trash. The obsession and longing in your eyes can’t even be hidden." Aboli’s voice sneered, dripping with disdain.
But Sylus heard nothing. Pain consud him, and instinctively he clutched the cold, stiff hands of Louis—as though sothing within the river of fate itself was overflowing through him...
"An angel with black eyes? Impossible. A curse. A disgrace!"
"Look at that hair—gray, dull, ugly without the slightest light. How could such a being deserve a place in this land?"
"Born of light, yet without light!"
"Unfavored by the light, you are unworthy of existence!"
Hatred—everyone despised him. He was cast aside. They were all so beautiful, with wings, hair, and eyes blazing with radiance. Only he was different. Ugly, to the point that everyone loathed him, deserving of scorn, never to be defended, condemned to be forever wrong even when beaten and bloodied.
An ugly existence, treated like a beast in the very land of his birth, denied protection—as though his re existence was already so imnse rcy. The pain in his head was nauseating, sickening.
Sylus no longer even knew from whose eyes he saw this—his younger self? Or his present self’s? He couldn’t even tell where this had been buried in the dark corners of mory.
So vague. That gray child looked up at the sky, his companions soaring on radiant wings above, so beautiful, while he alone had none. His appearance was different. Everything scread the sa truth: he did not belong here. He was unworthy of this heaven. He was unworthy even of existence.
If only... if only he had silver hair, beautiful and gleaming. If only... if only he had radiant silver eyes. If only he had wings. Would this world then accept him? Would his parents no longer weep in grief?
"Run, run, Sylus—hurry, run from this place! Live your own life! Out there, in the world beyond, there must be a place where you belong!"
His mother’s voice was filled with despair and pain. Her great wings spread wide, yet they could not shield him from everything. His father seed to have gone mad—ordinarily so gentle, yet now he attacked her in a frenzy without pause. Fresh blood stread from his father’s eyes, mingling with tears. His bloodshot gaze fixed on Sylus, struggling, writhing in anguish, carrying emotions Sylus could not fully grasp.
Flas surged, devouring everything within Sylus’s sight. In the end, he could no longer tell whether the red before him was the fire... or the blood of his own parents.
"Run... just run... run!"
His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. Run, run, Sylus. His legs knew no exhaustion—or perhaps he could no longer feel anything.
Not even pain could halt his steps. Yes—run. Run, run, run.
Thud!
Sylus collapsed to the ground, his mind sinking into nothingness. He would die. Of course. From the very mont of his birth, he had never been worthy of existence...
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