The Citadel Hall stood fractured, its once-pristine marble floor webbed with glowing cracks, pillars half-collapsed, dust and broken stone suspended in the air by lingering mana pressure. Light and shadow bled into one another, refusing to settle.

  Kevlar walked forward.

  Not rushed.

  Not cautious.

  Measured—each step deliberate, boots crunching softly against shattered marble.

  The three Archangels hovered before him in a loose formation.

  Lumiel at the center, wings unfurled in full brilliance, Holy Luminance spilling from him like a living sun. To his right, Ramiel crackled with violent thunder, lightning crawling across his spear and armor in restless arcs. To his left, Omael remained eerily still, his mana folding inward, ready to fracture into countless reflections at a moment’s notice.

  Kevlar stopped several paces away.

  For a brief moment, the battlefield held its breath.

  “Before we begin,” Kevlar said calmly, his voice cutting cleanly through the pressure, “there is something I want to know.”

  Lumiel narrowed his eyes slightly, surprised by the sudden question itself.

  Kevlar continued, gaze steady.

  “What is your endgame?”

  “Are you truly planning to annihilate the human race?”

  “Or is there more to it than blind extinction?”

  Silence followed.

  Lumiel did not answer immediately. His radiance pulsed once, then steadied. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold, resolute.

  “I do not need to tell you anything.”

  He lifted his chin, eyes burning with conviction.

  “Just know this—when you fall, the human race shall fall with you.”

  “Shadowborn.”

  Then, without turning his head, he muttered to the two Archangels beside him, his tone hardening.

  “Brothers… he may not be as strong as the previous one.”

  “But do not hold back.”

  “No mercy shall be given to a destroyer”

  The air exploded.

  All three Archangels launched forward at once.

  To Kevlar, time slowed.

  Their movements—blinding to any mortal—unfolded before him like flowing water. The crackle of Ramiel’s lightning. The radiant shimmer of Lumiel’s forming blades. The distortion in space as Omael split—one becoming two, two becoming many.

  Kevlar leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the first convergence.

  They did not stop.

  Ramiel thrust his spear forward, releasing a lightning bolt that tore through the air like a screaming comet. Lumiel summoned multiple holy blades, each one descending with surgical precision. Omael’s clones closed in from every angle, blades and mana strikes overlapping into a relentless net.

  Kevlar moved through the barrage of attack.

  He parry.

  Twist.

  Deflect.

  Redirect any that comes near.

  Steel met light. Shadow slipped past thunder. Violet flame flickered with every motion, precise and restrained.

  The barrage did not relent.

  They kept pressing him relentlessly, chaining attacks without pause, aiming not to only overwhelm—but to kill.

  A blade grazed Kevlar’s shoulder.

  Lightning tore a shallow line across his side.

  Holy light scorched his cloak.

  Light wounds. Nothing more.

  Kevlar narrowed his eyes.

  They’re desperate.

  If I stay on defensive too long, this will become troublesome for me.

  In the chaos, he noticed it.

  A fraction of hesitation in Ramiel’s pattern—a slight opening when transitioning between thrusts.

  Kevlar moved.

  A fist-sized orb of violet flame formed instantly in his palm and launched forward.

  Ramiel reacted on instinct, slamming his spear down and forming a thunder barrier—

  It shattered.

  The violet flame punched through the lightning and struck him squarely, hurling Ramiel across the hall. He crashed into the far wall, stone exploding outward as his body disappeared into the rubble.

  Lumiel and Omael did not pause.

  They pressed harder.

  Omael multiplied again—five of him now, blades flashing. Lumiel attacked in tandem, forcing Kevlar into constant motion.

  Kevlar swung one sword forward, releasing a wide arc of violet flame.

  They dodged.

  That was the point.

  In the opening it created, Kevlar twisted and swung his second blade sideways—aimed directly at Lumiel’s head.

  Too close to evade.

  Lumiel reacted instantly, forming three layers of holy barrier around his arm and raising it to protect his neck.

  The blade struck.

  One barrier shattered.

  Then another.

  Then the third.

  The impact carved into Lumiel’s arm, sending him flying backward into a pillar. Stone exploded as his body smashed through it, collapsing the structure entirely.

  Before Omael’s clones could capitalize—

  Kevlar vanished.

  Not dodged.

  Gone.

  Omael froze for a fraction of a second, eyes darting—

  Kevlar reappeared at the far side of the hall, standing calmly near the shattered wall, positioning himself so that distance separated all of them.

  Ramiel and Lumiel burst from rubble simultaneously, forcing themselves into the air despite their injuries.

  They charged again.

  Omael followed, his five clones fanning out.

  Kevlar exhaled slowly.

  The one who can clone is the problem.

  Violet flame surged outward, cloaking his body in a blazing armor. Shadows thickened, forming a miniature avatar around him—compact, dense, oppressive.

  The Archangels’ eyes widened.

  It was familiar.

  Too familiar.

  Memories stirred—of the first Shadowborn, of the colossal red avatar that once crushed heaven itself.

  Kevlar did not wait.

  He launched forward—straight at Omael.

  “Shit—!” Lumiel realized.

  “He’s going for Omael!”

  Too late.

  Kevlar tore through the clones like mist, violet flame erasing them in passing. He appeared before Omael’s true body in an instant, as if space itself had folded.

  Kevlar’s voice was calm.

  “That makes one.”

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  His blade slashed upward.

  Omael’s mana barrier shattered instantly. The violet flame cut deep across his torso, severing his right arm completely.

  Omael screamed as he fell, blood splattering across the broken floor.

  Kevlar did not stop.

  He blitzed again.

  Lumiel struck—Kevlar parried effortlessly and drove his heel into Lumiel’s chest.

  The impact sent Lumiel flying in the opposite direction, crashing through the Citadel wall and out into the city beyond, destroying buildings in his wake.

  Lumiel’s mind raced even as he was thrown.

  He’s separating us…

  He’s taking us down one by one.

  Kevlar turned slowly.

  His gaze locked onto Ramiel.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “it’s just the two of us.”

  Ramiel hovered, breathing hard—but unafraid.

  “If you think splitting us makes this easier,” he snarled, “you’re mistaken.”

  His mana erupted.

  Thunder roared across the city as lightning split the sky. The Citadel trembled violently, stone cracking under the sheer pressure.

  “This will only allows me to go all out!”

  “I no longer need to worry about hurting my brothers with friendly attack!”

  A colossal lightning spear formed above him—vast, divine, descending like judgment itself.

  Kevlar spread his black wings and flew upward to meet it.

  Violet flame surged along his twin blades, condensing, elongating, growing until they burned like molten stars.

  With a cross slash—

  Their attacks collided.

  The explosion ripped through the sky above the Citadel, tearing apart sections of the structure and flattening nearby buildings. Shockwaves rolled across the battlefield, forcing soldiers and hunters alike to look skyward in awe and terror.

  Smoke billowed.

  Then—

  Kevlar burst through it.

  Ramiel barely dodged, twisting away as Kevlar chased him higher, faster.

  Ramiel pushed his speed further—But it was still not enough.

  Kevlar appeared beside him instantly.

  “You’ve flown high enough,” Kevlar said.

  “Now it time to fall.”

  His blade swept sideways.

  It cut through Ramiel’s abdomen—through thunder, through armor, through divine flesh. Violet flame burned away everything it touched.

  Ramiel’s eyes widened.

  So this is it… this is my end.

  Brother… you were wrong.

  This one… is just as strong as the one back then…

  He fell.

  Below, Lumiel clawed his way out of rubble, bloodied and shaking. Pain flared through his body—far worse than expected.

  His holy barriers… his divine physique… had failed against a single kick.

  How…?

  Was it because of that weird flame…?

  Then—

  Kevlar landed before him like a hammer, stone shattering beneath his feet.

  Lumiel staggered into a defensive stance.

  Kevlar approached slowly.

  “You’re the last one,” he said.

  “Any last words?”

  Lumiel froze.

  Then—

  He laughed realizing that he was the only one left.

  “Hahahahaha—!”

  He covered his face as his laughter echoed through the ruins.

  Kevlar stopped in response.

  And waited.

  Underground Cavern of Ruins

  The cavern of the sky-city ruins trembled with a low, aching resonance—like the aftershock of a dying god’s heartbeat.

  Fragments of marble and ancient crystal lay shattered across the ground, half-sunk into layers of moss and pale roots that had erupted from the earth itself. These roots were not natural. They pulsed faintly, veins of emerald light flowing through them like blood through arteries.

  At their center stood Serena.

  Or rather—she was held there.

  World Tree roots coiled tightly around her arms and legs, lifting her slightly off the fractured ground. They pierced through stone as if it were soil, binding her limbs with cruel precision. Each movement she attempted was answered with a tightening constriction, the wood drinking deeply from her mana.

  Her breath came shallow.

  Light flickered weakly beneath her skin, fighting to manifest—only to be swallowed the moment it surfaced.

  Scars marked her form: scorched cuts across her shoulder, fractures along her ribs that glowed faintly before dimming again. Blood traced down her temple, catching the pale light of the cavern before dripping silently onto the roots below.

  She was exhausted.

  Drained.

  Defeated.

  And before her stood Sidrien—unmarked, unmoved, untouched.

  Not a single scratch marred his form.

  His presence alone warped the space around him. The roots obeyed his will as if they were extensions of his own body, responding to his thoughts with absolute loyalty. Mana flowed toward him from every direction—leeched from the cavern, the ruins, and most of all, from Serena herself.

  She was powerful.

  A being born of contradiction.

  A hybrid of Archangel and Immortal, light and darkness interwoven into a single existence. Within her burned the Origin of Light—pure, radiant, absolute.

  Yet none of it mattered.

  Because Sidrien was her natural counter.

  The World Tree wood was not merely a weapon—it was an authority. It gave mana, and it took it away. Anything it touched was subject to that law. Even an Origin could not shine if its fuel was stripped away before ignition.

  Serena’s vision blurred as another wave of weakness rolled through her.

  “This…” her voice was hoarse, barely audible, “…was never a fair fight.”

  Sidrien regarded her quietly.

  There was no cruelty in his eyes. No triumph.

  Only certainty.

  He stepped closer, roots shifting beneath his feet.

  “Even with your Origin power,” he said calmly, “you cannot win against me.”

  Serena clenched her jaw, light flickering weakly in defiance.

  “The only Origin strong enough to challenge mine,” Sidrien continued, his voice steady, almost reflective, “was my brother’s—the Origin of Fire.”

  His gaze drifted, memories surfacing unbidden.

  “One that burns all,” he murmured.

  “One that scorches every physical existence.”

  He looked back to her.

  “Other than that… nothing has ever truly challenged me.”

  The roots tightened slightly, drawing a sharp gasp from Serena.

  “But understand this,” Sidrien said, lowering his voice, “I am not fond of battle.”

  He exhaled slowly.

  “I preferred peace.”

  His eyes hardened—not with anger, but resolve.

  “But peace without power… is no peace at all.”

  He stopped just before her, the World Tree roots lifting her to meet his gaze.

  “So I ask you again, Serena,” he said softly.

  “Join us.”

  Her body trembled—not from fear, but fury restrained by exhaustion.

  She struggled weakly against her bindings, the roots responding by draining more of her mana. Her knees nearly buckled mid-air.

  “…Just kill me,” she whispered.

  Her voice cracked, but her eyes burned with defiance.

  “I will never be one of you.”

  For a moment, Sidrien closed his eyes.

  Disappointment crossed his face—not rage. Not hatred.

  Sorrow.

  “You leave me no choice, sister,” he said quietly.

  “The human has corrupted your mind.”

  Serena let out a weak, bitter laugh.

  “I chose… my own path.”

  Sidrien shook his head.

  “I will capture you,” he said, voice firm now, “and wash it all clean. So that you may start anew—”

  His eyes glowed faintly.

  “—and shine the world into its new era.”

  He raised his hand.

  “And the future,” he declared, “will be in our hands.”

  Then—

  Something touched his back.

  Not an attack.

  Not a surge of mana.

  A presence.

  Sidrien stiffened.

  …Impossible.

  His senses screamed too late.

  How did I not sense him?

  He turned—

  And saw Saint Fariel standing there.

  The human smiled.

  A slow, knowing smirk.

  “Took me a while to prepare,” Fariel said lightly, almost apologetic.

  “But I am sorry.”

  His eyes locked onto Sidrien’s.

  “The world will not be in your hands.”

  Sidrien’s pupils shrank.

  He began to turn fully. “What—”

  “As it is already in mine.” Fariel’s hand moved.

  A sigil erupted into existence—two layers overlapping perfectly.

  One radiated holy brilliance, blinding and absolute.

  The other oozed pure darkness, swallowing light at its edges.

  They interlocked.

  Balanced.

  Sidrien screamed echoes across the cavern.

  Agony tore through him as the sigil embedded itself into his back, light and darkness tearing through his being in perfect unison. His mana was ripped from him violently—strength, vitality, life force itself draining away like water through shattered glass.

  Serena felt it.

  Her eyes widened.

  That power—

  Light and dark.

  No human should be able to possess such authority.

  Sidrien collapsed to his knees, roots thrashing wildly before withering and dying. His body trembled uncontrollably as his essence was stripped from him.

  He could not resist.

  Could not fight.

  Only suffer.

  Moments later, his body fell forward—dry, lifeless, empty.

  An ancient being reduced to a husk.

  Silence followed.

  Then Fariel exhaled deeply.

  “Hahh…”

  “That felt good.”

  His body began to change.

  Skin paling.

  Features sharpening.

  Mana reshaping his form.

  Before Serena’s eyes, the elderly human form was cast aside.

  Behind him unfurled eight wings.

  Four white—radiant and angelic.

  Four black—voided and abyssal.

  It was unnatural.

  Out of place.

  Yet overwhelming.

  Serena’s breath hitched.

  “What… did you do?” she demanded weakly.

  “You don’t feel human anymore.”

  Fariel glanced back, amused.

  “My dear,” he said softly, “do not be afraid.”

  He smiled.

  “For I have simply become… like you.”

  Her expression twisted with rage.

  “I am nothing like you!”

  He chuckled.

  “Of course not,” he replied.

  “For I have transcended what you were meant to be.”

  His gaze sharpened.

  “And you… are now merely the lesser version.”

  “A discarded tool.”

  “You are a monster!” Serena spat.

  “You lied to me—controlled me!”

  Fariel shrugged.

  “I owe tools no truth,” he said calmly.

  “A tool is meant to be used… and unused.”

  He stepped forward and shattered the roots binding her with a casual flick of his fingers, catching her weakened body effortlessly.

  “But fear not,” he whispered.

  “You still have a use.”

  He lifted her gently—almost tenderly.

  “Time to reap the fruit,” he said, smiling.

  “While it is still fresh.”

  His wings unfurled.

  And in a single beat, he vanished from the cavern—leaving behind ruins, silence… and a fallen.

  Lumiel’s laughter slowed.

  Then broke.

  “…What a joke we have become.”

  His voice cracked as his wings trembled.

  “This was familiar,” he whispered.

  “The same as back then…”

  Kevlar watched him silently.

  “We tried everything,” Lumiel continued, eyes hollow.

  “And still… we couldn’t stop him.”

  Kevlar sighed.

  “Lumiel,” he said quietly, “you are too caught in the past.”

  Lumiel looked up.

  “It tragic that The Shadowborn destroyed your home, and your upper echelon of old reaped what they sowed,” Kevlar continued, “but I am not him.”

  He stepped closer.

  “I fight only because you seek to destroy what I intend to protect.”

  Lumiel faltered.

  “If you had chosen neutrality,” Kevlar said, “you could have rebuilt your home… with your brothers.”

  Realization hit Lumiel like a blade.

  Hatred and Anger had blinded them all.

  Chains forged by memory.

  “…Is it even possible,” Lumiel whispered, tears forming,

  “for old relics like us… to truly have a place in this era?”

  His voice broke.

  “I am tired,” he confessed.

  “Of vengeance… of war…”

  “I only wanted my brothers to live on peacefully.”

  Kevlar closed his eyes.

  “If that is your wish,” he said,

  “then this era can welcome you.”

  Lumiel fell to his knees and stilled in a moment of silence.

  “.....If that is your offer,” he said shakily,

  “.....then I will—”

  Suddenly a voice spoke “I will have to stop you there, Lord Lumiel.”

  Both Lumiel and Kevlar turned their attention to the voice.

  Fariel was standing right behind Lumiel.

  Lumiel reacted in instinct and dodged an approaching hand of Fariel.

  He landed beside Kevlar. “What… is that dread feeling…” Lumiel whispered in sweat.

  They both looked at Fariel new form and appearance in surprise.

  Kevlar scoffed darkly.

  “So this was your goal all along,” he said.

  “To become a monster?”

  Fariel laughed.

  “How primitive to view me as a monster,” he replied.

  “A simple judgement for the arrogant. That is why you will fade away in time.”

  “You are all of old story, duplication in a repetitive cycles of this world and never to be more than that,” he declared.

  “So I will evolve instead....I will transcend beyond what you all had be and will ever be!”

  “I will be this world new future!!”

  Kevlar’s eyes narrowed.

  “The world will reject you, for you are not of nature existence.” he said coldly.

  “Just stay still and let me cut you down—”

  Fariel responded with a smug smile.