The Fallen Angel walked across the bone-ground, and reality broke with each step.
Not metaphorically. Literally. Each footfall cracked space itself, creating fractures in the air that bled light and darkness and something that existed between. The bone-dust didn't just compress—it ceased to exist in a perfect circle around each impact point. Erased. Removed from reality.
I manifested three swords immediately. Hunger. Truth. Wrath.
The black, silver, and red blades orbited me in synchronized rotation. Ready. Eager. Hungry for divine flesh.
The Angel stopped fifty meters away. The same distance as before. But this time, the thousands of arms on its back weren't just reaching—they were moving. Writhing. Grasping. Each pale hand forming different gestures. Prayer. Supplication. Curse. Threat.
When it spoke, the voice wasn't layered anymore. It was singular. Clear. Terrible in its simplicity.
"You kept the Eclipse. Good. I would hate to reclaim stolen divinity from a corpse."
The Ecliptic Sword in its hand pulsed with white light that cast no shadow. Just created absence.
"Come then, Lost One. Show me if you deserve the name Found Nothing. Or if you are simply another failure waiting to be recorded."
I didn't respond with words.
I moved.
Seventy percent corruption gave me speed that blurred reality. I crossed fifty meters in heartbeats, Hunger sweeping up in a diagonal slash aimed at the Angel's torso.
The black blade sang through air, eager to consume divine essence, to prove its purpose against—
The Ecliptic Sword intercepted with casual precision.
The impact was different this time. Not soundless. Not gentle. The collision released a shockwave that cratered the ground beneath us. The bone-dust exploded outward in a perfect circle, carried by force that shattered the nearest stone hands into fragments.
I was thrown back. Not twenty feet like before. Fifty. My body sailed through the air, hit the ground, skipped like a stone across water. Tumbled. Rolled. Finally stopped.
"Too slow."
The Angel was already there. Right where I'd landed. The Ecliptic Sword descending in an overhead strike.
Truth flashed up in defense. The silver-white blade revealed the attack's true path, showed me where the white sword would be—
Except Truth showed me something impossible. The blade would strike from seven different angles simultaneously.
I rolled left. The Ecliptic Sword struck where I'd been. The impact didn't just crater the ground—it deleted it. A perfect sphere of nothing fifteen feet across appeared where the blade touched. Not a hole. Not empty space. Just... absence. Reality removed.
"Better. You learn quickly."
I came up slashing. Wrath in my right hand, Hunger in my left. The red and black blades working in tandem. First strike. Second strike building on the first. Third strike would have been devastating—
The Angel blocked both swords with one. The Ecliptic Sword split into multiple positions, existing in several places at once, meeting my attack from impossible angles.
Then the arms moved.
Hundreds of pale hands shot forward from the Angel's back like striking serpents. Too many to count. Too many to dodge. Each one reaching for me with fingers that could erase pain by erasing existence.
Truth showed me the gaps. The spaces between grasping hands. I twisted, rolled, ducked, weaved through a forest of reaching limbs that should have caught me a dozen times.
One hand grazed my shoulder. Just touched. Barely made contact.
The corruption veins on my shoulder vanished. Not damaged. Not injured. Just... gone. Erased. The pain I carried there—physical, spiritual, emotional—simply ceased to exist.
Along with a chunk of my essence.
[ESSENCE DRAIN: 5%]
[WARNING: ANGEL'S TOUCH ERASES ESSENCE STRUCTURE]
Fuck.
I manifested Mercy, dismissing Wrath. The pale blue blade swept through the grasping hands, severing their connection to the Angel. Three arms fell away, disconnected, dissolving into light.
But more took their place. Dozens. Hundreds.
"The Hands of Salvation," the Angel said. Its voice was almost gentle. Almost kind. "They remove suffering by removing the sufferer. Is that not mercy? To cease existing is to cease hurting."
I switched tactics. Dismissed Mercy. Manifested Sorrow.
The grey blade appeared. Dull. Light-absorbing. I swept it through the air, and the effect was immediate. The reaching hands slowed. Hesitated. Lost motivation. The Angel's assault faltered as despair radiated from the sword.
"Interesting. You wield my sins against me. How poetic."
The Angel's free hand rose. The eclipse overhead pulsed in response. And the red sky—
Changed.
The crimson light intensified until it was nearly blinding. Then it focused. Concentrated. Became a beam of pure judgment that descended from the eclipse like divine wrath given form.
"Crimson Requiem."
The beam struck where I stood.
I moved on pure instinct. Truth showed me the attack's path. Hunger absorbed part of the beam's essence. Sorrow made the attack hesitate for a microsecond.
Not enough.
The beam clipped my left arm. Not a graze. A direct hit.
My corruption veins ignited. Not burning—revealing. Every lie I'd ever told myself became visible. Every false justification. Every moral compromise. Every piece of humanity I'd sacrificed and pretended was necessary.
The truth of what I'd become was laid bare by divine light, and it hurt.
Not physically. Spiritually. The pain of seeing yourself clearly and finding nothing worth saving.
I screamed.
The beam faded. I collapsed to one knee. My left arm was unmarked but I could feel it—the corruption there had regressed. Dropped from seventy percent to sixty percent in that limb alone. The Angel's attack had purified me.
And purification at seventy percent corruption felt like having your soul flayed.
"You see now," the Angel said. Its tone was sad. Understanding. "This is what judgment means. Not death. Not pain. Simply truth. The weight of seeing yourself as you truly are."
It walked closer. Each step deliberate. Final.
"You are seventy percent monster, Lost One. Thirty percent human. You have consumed innocent creatures. Killed without hesitation. Transformed into something that terrifies your allies even as they pretend otherwise. You are becoming exactly what you feared. And you know it. You have always known it."
The Ecliptic Sword pointed at me.
"That is your sin. Not what you have done. But what you refuse to admit you have become."
I looked up at the Angel. At the thousands of arms reaching eternally toward dead light. At the being that had tried to save everything and failed.
"You're wrong," I said. My voice was hoarse. Raw. "I admit it. I know what I am."
I stood slowly. Blood dripped from my nose. My left arm trembled.
"I'm a monster. A necessary one. A monster that kills other monsters so the people I care about can survive. That's the truth. That's what I am. And I'm not sorry."
Three swords manifested. Not my usual trinity. Different ones.
Hunger. Joy. Nothing.
Black. Purple. Void.
"And if you want to judge me for that—if you want to erase me for choosing survival over purity—then you better do it fast. Because I'm about to show you what happens when a monster stops pretending to be anything else."
The Angel tilted its head. The motion was slow. Considering.
Then it raised the Ecliptic Sword with both hands. The eclipse overhead pulsed faster. The thousands of arms on its back spread wide like terrible wings.
"Very well. Then face true judgment, Lost One. No more testing. No more mercy. Only the weight of heaven's wrath."
The Angel's form began to change. To expand. The armor cracked. Light bled through. The arms multiplied—hundreds becoming thousands becoming tens of thousands.
"Show me the strength of your conviction. Prove that your monstrosity serves purpose. Or die knowing you were simply another failure who refused to accept grace."
The bone-ground beneath the Angel fractured. Reality itself groaned under the pressure of divine power being unleashed without restraint.
And I knew—absolutely knew—that three swords wouldn't be enough.
I needed seven. Needed one hundred percent. Needed the mask.
But I had one more card to play first.
I looked at Lucy. At the mask hanging from her belt.
"Not yet," I said. "I need to see how far I can push seventy percent before we cross that threshold. If I can fight it at this level—"
The Angel moved.
Not walked. Not charged. Appeared. One moment standing fifty meters away. The next moment right in front of me, the Ecliptic Sword descending in a strike that would split me from crown to groin.
No time to think. No time to plan.
Just reaction.
I manifested all seven swords simultaneously.