All at once, Oliver found himself standing in the ruins of the now forgotten city. The departing words of the demon still echoed in his mind–heavy with meaning, even though he did not yet understand. The next moment, everything vanished. The substance ceased to be under his feet, and only emptiness remained.The sky now twisted into an abyss, whirling black and white like ink into water. An incredible force, something more than human, yanked him downward. Falling was not the word for it. Something within him had reached inside to pull at his soul and draw him into a place where nothing ought to exist.He did not have time to scream.Cold like no other, a cold that seeped into his bones, into his mind, into the very essence of him-he was enveloped by it. If his body still existed-at least it had the feeling that it was disintegrating, as if he were made of nothing but thin threads, being pulled apart one by one. His thoughts were scattered like leaves in a storm. He could not figure out

As Oliver passed through the gate, he immediately felt the difference. The air was charged somehow, almost like entering the eye of a storm—the part of the storm where things were still, not where the winds howled and raged. But he perceived that stillness as a kind of cover for all that lay beneath: chaos and power swirling just out of reach, waiting for him.The voices began to recede. Before, they had clamored within him, a steady whine pressing against the edge of consciousness. Now they were whispers that did not depart from him entirely. A tempest thundered within his soul. Yet there was something within him that calmed. He had not fought through the gate; he had spoken truthfully and been allowed to pass. That carried weight. But he also knew, in his very bones, that the real trial came next. He started to look about. The realm beyond the gate was unlike anything he had seen. Day was neither here nor there; it was something in between. Flooding essentially with different glis

Oliver stood at the edge of the long, pale stone bridge. His body ached, every muscle sore from battle, but he ignored the pain. His breath was heavy, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He had come so far, fought so hard, and now—this was it. The final step.A gust of wind rushed past him, cold and sharp as a blade. His torn cloak fluttered behind him, its edges singed from the battle he barely survived. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the knuckles of his fingers whitening.“Just a little further,” he murmured to himself.Slowly, he lifted his foot and took that first step toward the throne.The moment his boot touched the stone, something deep beneath the surface stirred. A low hum filled the air, a sound so deep and powerful that it felt like it came from the bones of the world itself. The throne, standing tall and unyielding at the far end of the bridge, pulsed with light. At first, the glow was silver, soft like moonlight. Then, it shifted, turning into a deep, molten

The Fallen Angel stood still, barely moving. Its pale eyes, full of sadness and something like curiosity, stared at Oliver as if seeing him for the very first time. The tattered wings on its back twitched slightly, and the broken armor on its body made a hollow rattling sound as it shifted, even the smallest movement causing the pieces to clink against each other.The air around them felt thick, almost heavy, pressing down on Oliver's shoulders like an invisible weight. He could feel something—something unseen yet deeply present. It was not just silence. It was more than that. It was a feeling, a presence, like a storm waiting to break.Oliver’s heart pounded inside his chest like a drum, hard and fast. He tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the strange energy of the Voidlight Resonance coursing through his veins. It was unlike anything else—neither heavy nor light, neither warm nor cold. It felt like standing at the eye of a storm, where chaos and calm met, where destruction and

Caphriel’s golden eyes narrowed as he stood high above, his tall, powerful figure glowing with divine light. Around him, the other Archangels remained still, their eyes locked on the battlefield below. They watched in silence, their massive wings barely moving, shining with celestial fire. None of them acted. Not yet. Perhaps they still believed this fight would end quickly. That the enemy before them was still beneath them. That he was still just a man.They were wrong.Oliver stood in the middle of the golden battlefield, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The Black Star Art coursed through his veins, changing him, twisting his body into something beyond human. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer force of the power surging inside him. The Voidlight flickered within him, a strange mix of abyssal darkness and divine radiance. It whispered in his mind, tempting him, urging him to let go, to surrender to it completely. The power was overwhelm