Chapter 506: The Heavens Shall Fall (XLVII)
"...."
Aestrea stood motionless at the center of the devastated arena, the last traces of black energy slowly fading from his form.
His long, abyssal-black hair began to lighten from the roots outward, the darkness receding like ink dissolving in water until it returned to its pristine, snow-white color.
The wild length shortened slightly, settling back into its usual style.
His blood-red vertical slit eyes flickered, the endless black irises receding as the sclera returned to normal white, leaving only his glowing red irises.
He turned slowly toward Seraphiel, who remained pressed face-down against the cracked white stone, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and fervent worship.
"I’m waiting...".
Seraphiel reacted instantly.
She rose to her knees without a second of hesitation, head bowed low, six wings folded tightly against her back.
Golden light gathered in her palms as she cupped her hands together and offered them forward.
A radiant orb of pure divine essence materialized above her palms... her Divine Soul.
"My soul is yours, my Lord," she whispered in a tone that was both soft and utterly submissive.
"Take it. Command . I exist only to serve you now."
Aestrea reached out and accepted the orb.
The mont his fingers closed around it, the Divine Soul sank into his palm and rged with his core.
A surge of fresh, stable power flooded through him... light and darkness now perfectly balanced under his control, no longer fighting each other.
He smiled in quiet satisfaction.
A peak 9?? True God would be extrely useful. An obedient weapon, a loyal servant, and a powerful asset for his future wars.
Maybe... he wouldn’t even need to stop in.
Without another word, Aestrea vanished from his spot and reappeared directly in front of the elevated platform where the Creator Woman sat.
She was still biting her lower lip, face flushed deep crimson, thighs pressed tightly together as soft, trembling breaths escaped her.
Her eyes were glassy with unmistakable desire, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold back the overwhelming sensation.
Aestrea ignored her obvious state completely.
"Take
ho, now," he said flatly.
The Creator Woman’s expression changed.
She smiled wryly at first, but when her gaze flicked past him to Seraphiel, who now stood obediently a few steps behind Aestrea, her eyes lowered in perfect devotion...
Her face darkened a little.
A strange, unfamiliar tightness twisted in her chest.
She didn’t understand why the sight of the hybrid god kneeling so submissively to him bothered her, but it did.
She pushed the feeling asidet and forced her usual playful smile back onto her lips.
『 Of course~, my Lord. 』
Her voice carried a teasing lilt as she raised one delicate hand and snapped her fingers.
A swirling portal of shimring silver light tore open in the air before Aestrea.
"Thank you."
Aestrea didn’t hesitate.
He reached back, grabbed Seraphiel firmly by the wrist, and pulled her along as he stepped through the portal without a backward glance.
The hybrid god followed obediently, her wings tucked close, disappearing with him into the light.
The mont they were gone, the portal snapped shut instantly.
The Creator Woman remained seated for a long mont, staring at the empty space where Aestrea had stood.
The flush on her cheeks slowly faded, but the strange tightness in her chest lingered.
She turned her gaze toward the rows of patron gods still kneeling on the arena floor, their foreheads pressed to the stone in terrified submission.
『 ...This isn’t fun anymore... 』
She spoke in a low voice, but it still reached everyone’s ear.
The patron gods reacted instantly, panic flashing across their faces.
They pressed their foreheads even harder against the ground, their voices rising in desperate, overlapping pleas.
"Great Creator! Please, give us another chance!" one cried out.
"We will bring stronger warriors! True deathmatches this ti with no rcy, and no holding back!" another shouted, voice trembling.
"Yes! We will drag every champion from the outer realms! Divine beasts as well... ancient dragons, void titans, even the sealed ones from the Forbidden Vaults! They will fight until nothing but blood and ash remains!"
"We swear it! The next spectacle will be worthy of you! Just spare us!"
Their voices overlapped, bodies shaking as they groveled lower, desperate to regain her favor.
The Creator Woman tilted her head to the right with a bored expression.
『 Boring. 』
Snap!
Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!
With a single casual snap of her fingers, every patron god’s head exploded simultaneously in wet, violent bursts of gore and divine at.
Golden blood and brain matter sprayed across the white stone in grueso arcs.
Their bodies remained kneeling for half a second longer before collapsing limply, headless and twitching.
The scattered remains quickly dissolved into shimring wisps of divine essence.
The Creator Woman waved her hand lazily, gathering every last wisp into a small, glowing orb that she tucked away into her sleeve for later use.
『 Mhm...』
She sat in silence for a mont, humming thoughtfully to herself as she tapped a finger against her chin.
『 ...Watching Aestrea is far more fun. And right now... he’s playing a little ga with Nyarlathotep. That might be entertaining to watch! 』
A thoughtful, almost mischievous smile appeared on her face.
The strange tightness in her chest eased slightly at the thought of Aestrea.
She rose gracefully from her seat, her body dissolving into motes of silver light before vanishing completely from the now-empty, blood-stained arena.
...
Aestrea released Seraphiel’s wrist and took a few steps forward.
The hybrid god followed silently, her six wings folded neatly against her back, with a perfectly submissive posture.
He stopped abruptly in the middle of the shadow-grass field and turned to face her.
"Can you feel... Authorities of Pure Darkness?" he asked.
Seraphiel blinked, clearly perplexed by the sudden question after everything that had just happened.
Her mismatched eyes flickered with confusion for a brief mont, but she quickly composed herself and nodded.
"Yes, my Lord," she answered softly.
"My Authority of Light is nearly perfect for detecting concentrations of pure darkness. The stronger the source, the clearer the resonance. It... pulls at
like an itch beneath the skin."
"Perfect..." Aestrea’s lips curled up slightly.
He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon, scanning the twisting landscape.
"Then... I’ll take you around," he continued.
"Tell
the mont you feel anything. No matter how faint."
"As you wish, my Lord."
’...I’ll find you, you damned Crawling Chaos.’
After all... Aestrea was still playing with Nyarlathotep, waiting for the perfect chance to fight him.
Without warning, Aestrea snapped his fingers.
Crack!
The space around them warped violently, reality folding in on itself.
In an instant, the endless shadow-grass vanished, replaced by the familiar halls of the Primordial Court base.
They now stood inside one of the grand chambers deep within the fortress.
The air humd with divine energy, and distant sounds of marching soldiers and clashing training weapons echoed from outside.
Seraphiel blinked, adjusting quickly to the sudden shift.
As they arrived at that place, she suddenly tensed.
"M-my Lord... I feel an extrely dark energy coming from that painting..."
Aestrea followed her gaze to an old, ornate painting hanging on the far wall. Without hesitation, he walked over, picked it up, and smashed it violently on the ground.
CRASH!
The fra shattered, canvas tearing apart.
"What about now?" he asked calmly.
Seraphiel was speechless for a mont, staring at the broken remains, but she quickly shook her head.
"I feel nothing now..."
"Good. Just telling you, you’ll need to search for that sa energy."
"O-Okay..." she replied softly, still a little stunned by his direct approach.
Aestrea continued walking through the grand chamber, Seraphiel following close behind. He stopped near the center of the hall and spoke without turning around.
"Kill every soldier whose uniform doesn’t have a crescent moon on them."
Seraphiel’s eyes sharpened.
"And if you see a golden-haired and pink-eyed woman, tell her to get here."
Seraphiel instantly nodded her head. Her six wings flared open with a powerful whoosh, and she shot forward like a dark cot.
Screams and sounds of slaughter quickly filled the base.
Seraphiel moved ruthlessly, her Authority of Darkness slicing through soldiers who lacked the crescent moon emblem.
Bodies fell one after another, golden blood staining the floors as she carved a path through the traitors and impostors.
After several minutes of relentless killing, she finally spotted a golden-haired woman with striking pink eyes standing frozen amid the chaos. Christina.
Seraphiel flapped her wings and descended smoothly in front of her.
Christina stared in shock, watching Seraphiel effortlessly slaughter the surrounding soldiers. She took a cautious step back, hands glowing with defensive energy.
Seraphiel spoke calmly.
"Do not be cautious. My Lord purposely sent
here for you."
Christina still remained wary, and her eyes narrowed as she decided to ask.
"Is your Lord a white-haired man with glowing red eyes?"
"Indeed."
"Aestrea..." Christina murmured in relief.
"I’ll kill every soldier here except yours, so you can go to him with peace of mind," Seraphiel stated flatly.
Christina nodded slightly, then imdiately turned and flew straight toward Aestrea’s location, leaving Seraphiel to continue her bloody work behind her.
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