"Show me," Elara said suddenly. "Show me what makes you think you can succeed where forty-six others failed. Show me this sword that doesn't exist. Show me why I should believe you're anything other than another corpse waiting to happen."
She stepped back. Gestured to the open space.
"Prove you're worth the Angel's attention."
I looked at Hunger. At the black blade with silver veins. At the weapon that was part of me, forged from corruption and power and the consumption of a Tier 4 entity.
Then I looked at the Choir. At the hundreds of frozen singers.
"Lucy," I said. "Can you create a target? Lightning construct. Solid enough to cut."
She nodded. Her wand crackled. Electricity coalesced in the air twenty feet away, forming a human-sized shape. Bright. Buzzing. Solid.
I took a breath. Felt the corruption in my veins pulse. Felt Hunger respond, eager, hungry, ready.
And I moved.
Not teleportation like at one hundred percent. Just speed. Enhanced speed from fifty percent corruption and Tier 3 essence enhancement.
I crossed twenty feet in a heartbeat. Hunger swept up in a diagonal slash.
The blade cut through the lightning construct like it wasn't there. Not dispersing it. Not shorting it out. Cutting it. The electricity divided along the blade's path, separating cleanly, the essence that formed it severed at a fundamental level.
But I didn't stop. I spun, momentum carrying me through three more strikes in rapid succession.
Horizontal. Vertical. Diagonal again.
Each cut perfect. Each strike precise. Each motion flowing into the next like water, like the sword was guiding my movements as much as I was controlling it.
The lightning construct fell apart. Not exploding. Not dissipating. Just... separated. Cut into pieces that lost cohesion and faded.
I stopped. Hunger's point resting against the ground. My breathing steady. Controlled.
The demonstration had taken maybe five seconds.
Elara stared. Her eclipse-marked eyes were wide. Behind her, her four companions had tensed, hands moving toward weapons they didn't draw.
"That blade," Elara said slowly, "cut through pure essence. Not the construct's physical manifestation. The essence itself. That shouldn't be possible. That's beyond Tier 3 capability. That's—"
"First of Seven," I interrupted. "Hunger. It cuts what cannot normally be cut. Essence. Illusion. Truth and lies. Reality and what should never have been. And this is just one sword."
I dismissed Hunger. The blade dissolved into essence that flowed back into me. The motion was smooth. Natural. Like breathing.
"At fifty percent corruption, I can manifest one at a time. Seven swords. Seven purposes. Seven ways to end what needs ending."
I looked at the Reliquaries. At the divine power waiting to be claimed.
"And when I wear the mask—when I reach one hundred percent—I can manifest all seven simultaneously. Plus seven masks that grant dominion over aspects of reality itself."
I met Elara's gaze.
"That's what makes me different. I'm not here to survive the Angel's judgment. I'm here to judge back."
Silence. Heavy. Weighted with implications.
Then Elara started laughing again. But this time it wasn't exhaustion. It was something else. Relief? Hope? Madness?
"Okay," she said when she could breathe. "Okay. Maybe. Maybe you actually have a chance. Maybe."
She walked to the Eclipse Reliquary. The brightest one. The most dangerous.
"If you're serious about this. If you really want to fight the Angel directly. Then you'll need this one. Eclipse. It grants Eclipsed Divinity—lets you summon a miniature eclipse that reveals truth and burns falsehood. It's the Angel's most powerful stolen ability. And binding to it guarantees the Angel will descend within twenty-four hours."
She turned to face me.
"One day. That's how long you'll have to prepare. To understand its power. To figure out how to survive judgment. One day before God comes to kill you."
I walked toward the Eclipse Reliquary. Felt its power pulling at me. Felt the divine essence calling to the corruption in my veins.
"Sidd," Lucy said. Her voice was tight. Worried. "You're already at fifty percent. This will push you higher. What if—"
"What if I become something worse?" I finished. "What if the corruption takes more of my humanity? What if I cross another threshold I can't come back from?"
I stopped in front of the Reliquary. Reached out. Felt its warmth against my palm.
"Then you'll do what we agreed. You'll remove the mask. Pull me back. Keep me human enough to finish this."
I looked at her. At Gery. At Somi. At my friends who'd followed me into hell and watched me become something monstrous.
"But first, I need to become strong enough to kill a fallen god."
I pressed my palm fully against the Eclipse Reliquary.
And the world exploded into light.
The vision hit like divine thunder.
I was standing in a different world. A world of blue sky and golden sun and clouds that weren't red. A world that remembered what light looked like before it died.
And before me stood the Angel.
But not as it was now. As it had been. Before the fall.
It was beautiful.
Six wings spread from its back, each one made of pure white light that hurt to perceive. Its body was humanoid but perfect—every proportion ideal, every feature flawless. Its face was gentle. Kind. Full of infinite compassion and infinite sorrow.
And in its hands, it carried the sun.
Not metaphor. Actual sun. A sphere of condensed light and heat and divine fire that illuminated everything. The source of life itself.
The Angel was bringing it somewhere. Carrying it carefully. Reverently.
Then the vision shifted.
The sky turned red. The sun in the Angel's hands began to dim. To darken. To die.
And the Angel screamed.
Not with voice. With essence. With its entire being. A scream of grief so profound it shattered reality itself.
The sun died. Became an eclipse. Black center rimmed with gold.
And the Angel's wings burned away. Its perfect form cracked. Thousands of pale arms erupted from its back—the arms of those who'd prayed to it, who'd believed in it, who'd trusted it to save them.
All of them clutching. Reaching. Refusing to let go even as it fell.
The Angel collapsed to its knees. Tried to rise. Couldn't. The weight of all those prayers, all that faith, all those souls it had failed—it was too much.
It became what it was now. The Fallen Angel. The Last Seraph of the Crimson Eclipse. The Mourning Blade of Creation.
The vision ended.
I opened my eyes.
I was on my knees. The Eclipse Reliquary had shattered. Golden essence poured into me through every pore, every vein, every cell. It burned. Not painful. Just... transforming.
[TIER 3 RELIQUARY: ECLIPSE - BOUND]
[ATTRIBUTE GAINED: ECLIPSED DIVINITY]
[CORRUPTION INCREASE: +20%]
[DIVINE CORRUPTION: +40%]
[TOTAL CORRUPTION: 70%]
[WARNING THRESHOLD REACHED]
Seventy percent. I'd crossed from Tainted into Corrupted. Into the realm where personality changes became permanent. Where control became uncertain.
I felt it immediately. The emotional blunting intensified. The distance between me and my feelings grew wider. Fear became theoretical. Empathy became abstract. Morality became negotiable.
But I was still me. Still conscious. Still in control.
For now.
I stood. Felt the new power settling into my essence structure. Felt the Eclipse mark appearing on my forehead—a small golden ring around a black center. When I focused on it, it glowed.
And above the cathedral, the eternal eclipse pulsed. Once. Twice. Three times.
Acknowledging. Recognizing. Claiming.
The Choir's song changed. Still harmonious. Still beautiful. But now with an edge. An urgency.
"It knows," Elara whispered. "The Angel knows you've taken its power. It's coming."
She looked at me with those eclipse-marked eyes. Saw the new mark on my forehead. Saw the way my corruption veins had darkened. Saw the seventy percent transformation written across my body.
"One day," she said. "Less now. Maybe eighteen hours. Maybe twelve. It's descending early. For you. Because you stole the Eclipse."
I manifested Hunger again. Felt the blade respond faster now. Sharper. More eager.
"Good," I said. My voice was colder. Flatter. The corruption at seventy percent stripping inflection away. "I'd hate to wait."
Outside, the red light intensified. The eclipse pulsed faster.
And in the distance, I heard something that wasn't the Choir's songs