Abaddon

Chapter 9 : War Of Alioth

“Archers to the walls! Mages split into two factions—one supports above, the other aids the ground troops!”

Uriel’s voice cut through the camp like a sharpened blade, steady and commanding. The knights obeyed without question, moving as if bound by her will.

I remained seated beside Elise’s cot, my eyes never straying too far from her. Yet even in my silence, I couldn’t ignore Uriel. She moved with a certainty that was frightening. Every word she spoke carried the weight of war, every gesture carried precision. She was not just experienced—she was born for this.

“Listen up!” Her tone hardened, drawing every knight’s attention. “When the Leviathan is struck, it will spawn fast, humanoid creatures. Infernals. If you hesitate, you will die.”

Her words lingered like iron on the air. Tension rippled across the camp. Even I felt it, sitting away from the chaos.

But then, Uriel shifted. The edge of her lips curved with humor, her words dipping into mockery. “But you are Crusaders—the best of the best. Minds thicker than a dragon’s hide.”

A ripple of sharp laughter broke through the line of armored men. The pressure eased for a heartbeat, but only a heartbeat.

Uriel’s expression returned to steel. “We will handle the Infernals. The mages will target the Leviathan directly.” Her gaze snapped to Lancelot. “Sir Lancelot will lead the dragon riders in an air assault. Strike hard and fast.”

Lancelot bent low, his voice firm. “As you command.”

Uriel shifted again, her eyes settling on Lilith. “Lilith will lead the mage division—healing and attack spells alike. No one acts without her order.”

Lilith inclined her head. No hesitation. Her composure was unwavering, as though she had prepared her entire life for this role.

Uriel finally turned back to the gathered knights. Her presence swallowed the space. “I will oversee the battle and share my strength with you all. So fight with courage. Do not hold back. I am with you.”

The response was instant. “For Honor! For Humanity!”

A roar erupted. Shields clattered, swords raised high. The sound was deafening, rattling the very earth beneath my feet.

Uriel lifted her hand. Something pulsed there, glowing faintly—a red crest, alive with mana. I had never seen anything like it. She began to chant, her voice low, every syllable heavy.

“Hear me, O Crest of Darkness.

Grant my strength to my allies.

Swallow their fears and make them empty.

Let the void seal their hearts and release the beasts within.”

The sky dimmed. Darkness gathered overhead, forming a massive crimson crest that pulsed before shattering. Shards of mana rained down across the camp.

The knights changed before my eyes. Their breaths came rough, animalistic. Their stances shifted, low and predatory. Their eyes glowed red with the hunger of beasts.

“Let us fight! Let us win! For Honor! For Humanity!”

The roar swelled once more, loud enough to shake my bones. I pressed my palms against my ears, but it did little to soften the sound.

Then the army moved. Factions split apart, banners swaying, weapons drawn. Dragon riders prepared for flight, mages stood shoulder to shoulder, and the air itself seemed to burn with anticipation.

Uriel lingered for only a moment, her aura darker than anything I’d felt from her before. It pulsed violently, almost rejecting the mana in the air around her. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she turned and strode deeper into the camp.

The sudden silence left me alone. Alone with Elise.

I leaned toward her, relief loosening the tension in my chest. Her body was no longer pale; color had returned to her cheeks. Her breathing was steady, soft. She looked fragile still, but alive. That was enough.

I smiled faintly, then leaned back, thoughts creeping in where fear had once sat.

Two things stood out to me from Uriel’s words. The crest. The War of Alioth.

Memories stirred. Dusty halls. The Valion library. My younger self clutching books like they were treasures. Hoping, praying that knowledge would make me worthy in my father’s eyes. I had thought if I read enough, if I knew enough, then perhaps he would look at me without shame.

It was in that place, among books and shadows, that I found it—a tome that recorded everything. A living book. It carried the history of our kingdom, not fixed but constantly updated, written as though time itself bled into its pages.

And there, buried within, was the record of the War of Alioth.

It was five centuries ago, the book said. A war between mankind and the demon king, Alioth. A war so brutal that our people were pushed to the brink of extinction. Humanity had retreated to a single mountain, every man, woman, and child prepared for the end. We had lost hope, but not our pride. We would die free, not bound.

And then, when despair was deepest, one man prayed. Saint Nicholai. He prayed to the gods for mercy. One voice in the silence. One spark in the void.

The prayer was answered.

The archangels descended.

Michael. Raphael. Azrael. Gabriel. Remiel. Zadkiel. And the seventh—an angel without a name.

Seven beings of divinity answered a single human prayer. Their descent turned the tide of battle.

Alioth’s armies were filled with beasts from the dawn of time, including the Leviathans. Even so, the archangels and mankind together brought divine wrath down upon them. The beasts fell. The demon king was broken.

The war ended. But the cost… the cost was heavy. Cities lay in ruin. Our numbers were reduced to ash. The world itself was scorched.

And in the final hour, the unnamed angel gave everything. His soul poured into the earth, giving life back to a dying world.

From that sacrifice, a kingdom was born. Humanity named it Luminara—“the gift of light.”

Before my thoughts could settle, a voice pulled me from my silence.

“Oh, oh I rejoice. Oh, I rejoice for you, Archie. You have gained strength and fulfilled your heart’s desire. To protect those you love. Oh, oh, oh, I rejoice.”

The sound froze me. It wasn’t a normal voice—it was serene, divine, echoing like a drumbeat in my skull.

“Who’s there?” I whispered. My hand immediately guarded, body tense. I rose to my feet, scanning the tent. Every shadow seemed alive, but there was nothing.

Then it spoke again.

“Oh, how I weep. Oh, how I weep. You have forgotten me. You have forgotten my cold hands. Oh Archie, how I weep.”

A chill cut through me. My body stiffened. My breath caught in my throat.

The world blurred. Slowly, silently, darkness began to bleed into my vision, swallowing edges, consuming light. I tried to move. My muscles refused.

The void surged faster. My strength drained. The voice echoed on, half lament, half hymn.

“Oh Archie, you have forgotten me…”

Darkness pressed in, deeper, heavier.

And then it all went black.