Chapter 77 – "The Sanctuary in Ashes":
---
Astoria.
The ground trembled.
The runes carved into the walls wept red glimmers — as if the sanctuary itself were bleeding slowly.
Above, the sky had turned a pulsing black, streaked with crimson veins.
Even the angelic statues seemed to recoil in terror.
The sphere around Lysandra had just shattered.
She floated, suspended in the air, her shadow wings unfurled, her red eyes staring into the void — and everything at once.
Valen, Naël, Zarion, and Elyonna stood ready.
Opposite them, the members of the Cult of Chaos formed a circle, their cloaks fluttering like inverted flames.
Their masked leader held a scepter adorned with a red fragment — pulsing like a living heart.
Valen whispered:
— Elyonna. Transform.
She obeyed without a word.
Her body dissolved into light, merging into Valen's palm.
The Sword of Judgment was reborn in a sacred breath.
Valen turned to his companions.
— Two options.
One: we eliminate Lysandra before Chaos regains its strength.
Two: we eliminate the Cult before they give her the fragments.
Naël cracked his shoulders, his giant sword resting on one.
— For now, option two.
Zarion spun his black blade, far too calm for the situation.
— Option two with a bonus: I slice the leader diagonally. I like symmetry.
Valen nodded.
— Fine. But if she loses control… I'll end it.
He stepped forward, sword in hand.
— You're too late. She's not yours.
The Cult leader replied, his voice echoing like an ancient whisper:
— She never was.
She belongs to him.
She always has.
Zarion raised an eyebrow.
— You've got a creepy obsession with floating people. Seriously, get help.
Naël smiled, his bluish aura rising a notch.
— Doesn't matter who she "belongs" to.
You're not getting her.
The Cult leader smiled beneath his mask.
— We won't take her.
She will come.
Willingly.
---
Lysandra descended slowly.
Her feet still didn't touch the ground.
Her gaze was empty, but her lips moved.
— I'm tired.
I'm fragmented.
I'm… tempted.
Around her, the air bent.
Gravity distorted.
The runes spoke — yes, spoke — whispering prayers no tongue could comprehend.
Even light hesitated to approach her.
Elyonna vibrated violently.
— She's giving in.
The central fragment is taking root.
Valen stepped forward, sword lowered.
— Lysandra. Look at me.
You're more than what they want to make of you.
You're a priestess. A warrior. A friend.
Zarion looked at the ground.
— A tear? Wait… a flower?
Oh no. A tear-flower. Great, new infernal concept unlocked.
A black tear fell from Lysandra's eye.
It touched the ground.
And where it landed… a black flower bloomed.
Silent.
Perfect.
Terrifying.
Lysandra whispered:
— Valen… kill me.
Before it's too late.
---
The Cult leader raised his scepter.
— The ritual begins.
The fragment will fuse.
And the Throne… will be reborn.
The cultists formed a perfect circle.
Red runes rose from the ground, chanting in a forgotten tongue.
The sky above the Sanctuary split — a black rift, pulsing like a cosmic eye.
Naël turned to Valen.
— We doing this?
Valen gripped the sword.
— We're doing this.
---
The battle erupted.
Naël charged first, diving into the enemy ranks at full speed, decapitating each cultist in his path with the grace of a hurricane.
His sword traced arcs of blue light, each strike ringing like a funeral bell.
Zarion struck the void — and several cultists were cleaved in two without him touching them.
His blade pulsed with dark energy, as if slicing existence before flesh.
— Strike one: for the fanatics.
Strike two: for people who speak in riddles.
Strike three: for the guy who said "she belongs to him."
Valen, guided by Elyonna, cut through the enemy waves with divine precision.
Each blow left a trail of pure light — judgment with every heartbeat.
---
But Lysandra remained still.
Her fingers trembled.
Ancient voices whispered in her mind — discordant, tangled.
— You are mine.
— You are yours.
— You are theirs.
— You are nothing.
She screamed.
A silent cry.
And a wave of chaos swept through the chamber.
Valen was hurled against a pillar.
Naël slid across the floor.
Zarion, suspended mid-air, crossed his arms.
— Okay. I'm flying. That's cool.
But I'd prefer it was on purpose.
---
The Cult leader approached her.
— You are ready.
You are perfect.
You are… the Throne incarnate.
Valen rose, Sword of Judgment in hand.
— I didn't want it to come to this.
But I'll have to end her.
Elyonna… get ready.
He raised his sword.
But before he could strike, a hand rested on his.
Liora.
— Don't do it.
Valen froze.
— Liora? What's happening?
Lysandra slowly turned her head.
And a voice echoed — a voice that wasn't hers.
A voice of child… and god.
— Mother.
Silence fell.
Even chaos stopped breathing.
Zarion, still floating:
— Mother? Wait, what?
Liora, you need to explain.
Like right now. With diagrams if possible.
Liora lowered her gaze.
Her aura shimmered, luminous and trembling.
Behind her, a water mirror formed — then cracked.
— I can't make the same mistake again.
I have to convince my child…
I don't want to lose him again.
---
The red fragments lit up.
They tore from their bearers, slicing through the air like living comets.
They all converged toward Lysandra.
Her body twisted.
Her wings folded.
Red eyes opened across her skin.
Her hair turned black, short, streaked with dark light.
The ground cracked beneath her aura.
Valen's eyes widened.
— This is bad.
Really bad.
The figure slowly lifted its face toward Liora.
And in a whisper that made the entire Sanctuary tremble:
— Mother.
Zarion, still arms crossed:
— Okay. I take it back.
No need for diagrams after all.
I think we got the picture.
Chapter 78 – "The Son of the Throne":
---
The figure's gaze settled on Liora.
His voice echoed, calm, almost childlike:
— Mother.
Liora felt her heart tighten.
Her eyes welled up.
Her legs trembled, but she stepped forward.
— My son… I'm sorry.
Come… come, let Mama hold you.
Please… forgive me.
The figure took a single step.
Just one.
And it was enough to bring him face to face with her.
He slowly raised his arms, a nearly tender smile on his lips.
— Mother.
She embraced him without hesitation.
And for a moment, everything seemed to stop.
No light, no air, nothing.
Just the hesitant beat of two hearts reunited.
Then — a dull crack.
A hand pierced Liora's chest.
A geyser of blood splashed across the golden floor.
— You're so weak now, Mother, the figure murmured as he slowly withdrew his hand.
Even sealed, you shouldn't be this pathetic.
But hey… works to my advantage.
He let her fall to the ground.
His tone shifted — icy.
— Did you really think that just because you begged Valen not to kill me, I'd forgive you?
Tsk… still so naïve.
You still believe your love can fix what you broke?
Liora struggled to breathe, blood spilling from her lips.
— Valen… she whispered.
But Valen, frozen, couldn't move.
Every fiber of his being screamed, and yet… something ancient, something divine, forced him to remain a spectator.
Liora clutched her son, pulling him close despite the pain.
Her fingers trembled.
— You've changed so much, my son.
Me… despite all this time… I never wanted to erase you completely.
But you, you have only hatred in your eyes…
Is there even one thing… that Mama did… that you didn't hate?
He remained silent.
His shadow stretched behind him, taking shape — a black throne, its edges cracked with red light.
Then he reached for the hammer on Liora's back.
A smile crept across his lips.
— The power of the Throne… sorry, Mother, but… it's rightfully mine.
Liora, on her knees, gave a faint smile.
— Yeah… it's yours by right…
But before you wield it… you could at least answer your mother's question.
He raised the hammer, hesitated for a second.
Then his gaze changed.
Cold. Empty.
— You really want to know?
What I hated?
Liora nodded weakly.
He stepped closer and whispered in her ear:
— It's simple.
You made me in your image.
And at that moment, the sky over Astria shattered.
A black ray pierced the clouds.
The earth trembled.
Statues collapsed.
Runes wept.
The hammer transformed into a sword.
A black blade, streaked with red, pulsing with ancient energy.
— Watch closely how the Throne is meant to be used, Mother.
Hahaha… I don't even know why you turned the Throne that was rightfully mine into a hammer.
It's like gifting a bomb wrapped in ribbon.
---
Valen rose, holding Elyonna in his hand.
— Alright… we need to do something.
Zarion, Naël, get ready.
But before he could say more, a blade pressed against his throat.
Thin. Sharp.
Still.
He smiled nervously.
— Ah. Hello. Is this for me?
The Son of the Throne looked at him, amused.
— What are you trying to do, divine hunter?
Or should I say… cursed hunter?
Valen's star-shaped eyes began to spin slowly.
— It's simple, isn't it?
I'm trying to stop the threat you are.
With flair, if possible.
The Son of the Throne placed a hand on Valen's shoulder.
— You don't interest me.
Incarnation of Vael… you're an echo.
A whisper in the wind.
I am the storm.
---
Zarion extended his hand.
A Void orb formed, pulsing with unstable energy.
He pulled it toward himself, aiming for the Throne's heart.
But with a simple motion, the Son of the Throne sliced the orb in two.
Effortlessly.
Emotionlessly.
— The Void? You want to send me back where I came from?
That's cute.
But I am the Void.
I am what the Void looks at when it's afraid.
Naël charged, sword raised, shouting:
— Then look at me real close, you little freak!
He struck.
The Son of the Throne blocked.
The impact shook the Sanctuary's foundations.
Valen leapt, Elyonna pulsing in his grip.
— We hold him. We slow him down. We make him doubt.
And if we die… we do it with style.
Zarion, still airborne:
— I'm already stylish. I just don't want to end up as confetti.
---
The Son of the Throne stepped back.
His gaze fell on Liora, still kneeling.
— You made me in your image.
But you forgot one thing.
Liora looked up, gasping.
— What?
He smiled.
— Your image… was already broken.
And he raised the sword.
Chapter 79 – "Blade of Judgment":
---
He raised the sword.
The breath of the Sanctuary stopped.
Even the runes seemed to hold their song.
The walls shivered. The ground contracted.
And in the air, something screamed — not a cry, but a memory.
Valen felt the scream of a blade that wasn't just metal: it was the echo of a throne, of a world grinding its teeth.
Elyonna vibrated like a bell on the verge of breaking.
---
Naël leapt first, as always — head down, massive sword forward.
— Hey, brat!
He delivered a titanic blow.
The Son of the Throne blocked effortlessly.
The shockwave shook the entire Sanctuary, cracking the pillars.
The boy exhaled:
— Pathetic.
With a flick of his sword, he sent Naël flying.
Naël blocked, but was thrown back.
He slowed himself by digging his hand into the ground, carving a trench of stone.
— Now, Elyonna murmured coldly.
Valen stepped forward — one step, two — and the chamber erupted into motion.
---
He charged at full speed toward the child.
The strikes came fast, precise, almost choreographed.
Zarion, from the rear, shouted:
— Move, Valen!
He lunged, his black blade morphing into a hammer of shadow.
The Son of the Throne smiled, almost amused.
He blocked the blow.
The impact made the Sanctuary tremble, threatening to tear it apart.
— Seriously? Do you even know how to strike with elegance? he mocked.
Naël responded with a flurry of blows.
The child stepped back.
— Heh. Entertaining.
---
Valen focused.
Elyonna lit up with a strange blue — not quite divine, not quite human: the light of a judgment wavering between mercy and condemnation.
He leapt.
Blades screeched, sparks flew, the air split.
Valen struck, aiming for the boy's heart — not to kill, but to reach something human.
The blade hit the Son's shoulder.
It didn't just cut flesh — it shook a memory.
— A child's voice in an empty hallway;
— A warm hand holding his;
— A light laugh stolen by fear.
The boy looked at his palm as if it still belonged to him.
A veil tore behind his smile.
Maybe an hour — maybe a breath — but Valen saw something: a flicker of hesitation, a crack in the rage.
— Hmpf… the child exhaled.
— You get attached to wounds quickly, Valen. That's cute.
---
He countered.
His sword sang a black note.
Valen was thrown across the room — but teleported instantly in front of the child and struck again.
They clashed, disappearing and reappearing across the chamber, their blows creating shockwaves.
Naël and Valen switched places.
Naël delivered a massive strike that sent the child crashing into a wall.
Zarion, moving at lightning speed, lunged to cut him down.
But the child blocked, then rose, floating higher and higher.
Valen waited behind him.
— Judgment of the Damned Souls.
The attack hit the child head-on.
He was hurled into the air, his aura flickering for a moment.
---
Lya and Nova — arriving just in time from the Golden Continent — burst through a breach.
Lya, emerging from the ground like a phantom, sliced through a ritual banner.
Nova, solid, grabbed a priest trying to reignite the spiral and hurled him into a column.
Valor arrived late, as usual, adjusting his tie like someone showing up to a party promising to bring the drinks.
— Oh. Hi. Took the shortcut. Am I missing something?
He swung — and shattered a column supporting the ceiling.
Everyone turned.
— Seriously?! Lya shouted.
— I'm setting the mood, relax, Valor replied, sheepish but satisfied.
---
Amid the chaos, Liora was gasping.
Her breath bled, but her eyes stayed locked on her son.
He had emerged unscathed from Valen's attack.
— You're trying to erase the hatred in me?
Sorry… but it won't work.
There wasn't just pain and betrayal in his gaze: there was a frozen will, a resolution she refused to abandon.
She summoned a monumental effort, a brief incantation — not to seal, not to strike, but to speak, a final tenderness amid the storm:
— My child… I created you because I hoped to protect creation.
I didn't forge hatred.
If you want to break me, break first what devours you.
The Son of the Throne hesitated — a microsecond that lasted an eternity.
He looked at his hammer-sword, looked at Liora, and something flickered in his eyes: a memory.
Valen seized the opening.
With a series of precise movements, he forced the boy to retreat.
Elyonna whispered a difficult truth in his ear:
— He's full of resentment. But he's still a child.
The child looked at him.
— Don't even try.
Attacks that condemn the wicked… resentment… hatred…
They don't work.
Valen attempted a neutralizing gesture — a blade that disarms the soul, exposing the child's core without destroying it.
The child stepped back, then said sincerely:
— Mother… why?
Liora whispered:
— At last… you've become yourself again, my child.
A smile appeared on the boy's face.
— You really believed that?
I already told you it wouldn't work.
---
Then someone appeared.
A shadow leapt.
A figure emerged from the flank of the Sanctuary: the Fallen Architect.
Not Aeternus — someone else, older, wrapped in legend.
The archives spoke of him in half-words: a race, a pillar, a power named only in whispers.
Liora looked at him.
— Are you here to help me?
Nova tensed.
Zarion placed a hand on his sword's hilt.
Naël growled.
— Who are you? Valen asked, eyes locked on the intruder as much as the battle.
Liora answered:
— That's Aeternus.
A former Architect.
The Fallen Architect smiled, without joy.
— I'm not here to help you.
You're no longer a king, after all.
The Son of the Throne looked at him.
A predatory smile spread across his face.
— You want to interfere? he hissed.
— Not yet, the Architect replied.
But I'm watching.
The child stared at him.
— Better for you.
Just a former Architect…
Even if you did interfere, I might crush you.
His aura shook the very structures of creation.
The pillars vibrated.
The skies cracked.
And in the distance… something awakened.
Chapter 80 – "Eyes of Chaos," with corrected phrasing and flow:
---
Liora screamed, her voice cracked by fear:
— ELYON, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING!
But the Son of the Throne — no, Elyon, the fallen heir — was already beyond listening.
His golden gaze burned with divine arrogance, his aura filled the sanctuary like a solar storm.
A smile, both cruel and radiant, split his face.
— You know full well you stand no chance against chaos.
---
### Palace of the Void
On a massive screen made of mist, Vael, Nyxa, Valt, and Death watched the scene unfold, seated like spectators at an intergalactic match.
Vael crossed his arms, holding a spectral popcorn:
— Ah… what a show! A mother, a son, a suicidal hero… all that's missing is a Netflix intro.
Nyxa, eyes dark:
— I swear, if you make one more comment like that, I'll strangle you with your mist.
— Good luck, it's divine mist.
— And I'm the goddess of chaos. Don't worry, I've got tricks.
Valt, leaning against his throne of shadow, sighed:
— Vael… you had something to do with the disappearance of the two Pillars, didn't you?
Vael gave a sly, almost childlike smile:
— Let's say… I stirred the embers. And now look: the blaze is magnificent.
Death slowly raised a hand:
— If that blaze destroys another plane of existence, I'll send you on permanent vacation.
— Promise, I'll bring an umbrella.
---
### Back to the Sanctuary
Elyon's aura peaked.
Light bent, space groaned.
But suddenly, another presence emerged.
Colder. Older.
Valen stepped forward, calmly placing his hand on Elyonna.
— Well… didn't think I'd have to use this again.
It's been a while.
A shiver ran through the universe.
Runes cracked.
Air vibrated.
Even shadows recoiled.
Then Valen's aura turned abyssal.
His eyes — two living stars — began spinning at a dizzying speed.
Elyon stepped back.
For the first time, he felt it… pure fear.
— What… what is that?
Liora screamed:
— VALEN, NO! NOT THAT!
Naël, pale:
— Oh no… not the Eyes of Chaos. Not now.
And suddenly — silence.
Absolute.
The entire world held its breath.
---
Valen opened his eyes.
But they were no longer truly his.
Each star within him devoured light, swallowed reality.
— Eyes of Chaos… awakened.
Elyonna trembled, her voice echoing in his mind:
— You won't be able to control them for long!
Valen gave a defiant grin:
— Relax. I've got full control. I think.
He raised Elyonna toward Elyon.
— Want to see Chaos Judgment?
---
Elyon crossed his Throne-forged sword, amused:
— So… you've been hiding your true power too?
— Not at all, Valen replied.
— I avoid it, because every time I use it, a world has a heart attack.
Naël raised a hand:
— It's true. I saw a system explode last time.
Zarion sighed:
— You lie so badly.
— It's the thought that counts!
---
Elyon raised his sword, his aura blazing:
— You really think you can defeat me? Me, the Son of the Throne?
Valen, grinning like a predator:
— No. I just think you talk too much.
And the world collapsed.
---
### The Clash
A flash.
Two silhouettes.
A cosmic storm.
The collision between Elyon and Valen tore the sky apart.
Each strike imploded reality.
Runes screamed, pillars melted, the laws of the universe wept.
Lya shouted:
— THEY'RE GOING TO DESTROY EVERYTHING!
Nova, arms crossed:
— I thought we'd seen the final boss… turns out that was just the trailer.
Vael, laughing from the Palace of the Void:
— Chaos versus chaotic judgment! Who survives? Place your bets!
Death sighed:
— Keep commenting and I'll add you to the list of the departed.
---
Valen raised his head, crimson light bursting from his eyes:
— Chaotic Judgment: Stellar Collapse.
A black sphere erupted, devouring light and sound.
The explosion pierced dimensions.
When the dust settled, Elyon was on his knees, gasping, his sword cracked.
The ground was nothing but an ocean of divine ash.
Valen, bleeding from one eye, still stood:
— Told you…
When the stars spin… chaos dances.
Elyon chuckled, his aura flaring back, wilder than before:
— Valen… you think you've won? This is only the beginning.
Valen sighed:
— Great. Another boss with a second phase.
Elyonna pulsed:
— Want to test your gaze on me?
— Are you insane? You want to be erased from reality?
— Then aim it at him instead.
Valen cracked his neck, his eye glowing red:
— Alright… let's see how many times I can rewrite the rules before the universe fries me.
Elyon roared:
— I AM THE SON OF THE THRONE!
Valen replied, smirking:
— And I'm the one who's going to knock you off it.
Their auras collided —
and once again, the world plunged into nothingness.
---
### The Awakening of the Throne
A rumble.
Then two black wings burst from Elyon's back.
His sword twisted, lengthened, becoming a black blade — a divine katana, forged from the Throne itself.
Liora stepped back, throat tight:
— I've let this go too far… I can't let it continue.
Suddenly, everything froze.
Time, light, sound.
Then, everything shifted — and they found themselves in an infinite white space.
A pure void.
Like a page before the words are written.
Shapes appeared: trees, towers, fragments of suspended worlds.
A draft of reality.
Valen opened his eyes, confused:
— What… is this place?
Then Liora's body began to disintegrate slowly.
Her flesh dispersed into light.
From that light, a new figure formed — majestic, genderless, dressed in a black kimono.
Her hair turned long, black, tied back.
Her gaze, red eyes.
Her presence… a forgotten divinity.
Valen whispered:
— No way…
Nyxa, watching from the Void:
— Oh no… she's awakened her original form.
Liora — or what she had become — looked at Elyon, her son:
— If chaos has devoured you… then I will be the silence that swallows you.
Elyon smiled nervously.