Betrayed by Heaven, I Became The Demon Lord
Chapter 15: The Herald Of Eternity
The blood-red sun loomed high in the sky, hanging there like a gaping wound in the vast tapestry of the heavens. Its fiery rays cascaded down across the desolate plains of my nascent realm, casting a muted crimson glow that set the obsidian soil ablaze with an unsettling beauty. Each grain of earth shimmered, alive with an ominous thrum, as if the very air itself was pregnant with uncertainty, a fragile existence bound by the remnants of the old world's fading laws of nature.
This was our dominion now, a realm forged from the ashes of malaise and transformation. It was neither Heaven nor Hell, but rather an ambiguous existence nestled somewhere in between, an enigmatic place where rules melded into chaos, giving rise to The Crimson Dominion.
Lyris stood resolutely beside me on the jagged edge of our half-formed citadel, her armor glinting with renewed vitality, nourished by the living essence of this land. As she moved, each step left behind faint trails of light upon the cold, dark floor, a testament to the connection she had with this realm, as though it recognized her not merely as an ally, but as a co-architect of its being.
"It's… beautiful," she breathed quietly, her eyes tracing the horizon where rivers of molten glass had cooled into ominous dark lakes. "But it feels wrong. Almost like it's breathing."
"It is," I replied softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Everything here pulses with life, a reflection of our very souls. It will thrive under the weight of our will… and wither away should we let it slip through our fingers."
Her expression darkened momentarily at the hint of impending doom I suggested, but she refrained from voicing any objections. She had borne witness to enough divine machinations and the consequent ruin to know that every act of creation is shadowed by the specter of destruction.
Amidst my thoughts, the haunting voice of the Throne whispered through the corridors of my mind, Heir of Ash… balance the new with the ruin. Balance. That word reverberated throughout my being, a poignant reminder of the impossible task I had ahead of me. How could one forge a balance between the obliterated and the infinite?
I shook off the oppressive weight of that thought and stepped forward, gazing out at the dark, jagged spires that loomed in the distance like sentinels over a forgotten age. Thousands of fragmented remnants from worlds long lost drifted towards the growing Dominion, drawn inexorably by the resonating echoes of our creation. These floating relics included ruined temples, shattered celestial bodies, and the shattered remnants of both angels and demons, coalescing into a singular plane of existence.
And then, the prevailing silence shattered.
A deep, resonant sound rippled through the atmosphere, a primordial knock of reality itself. Instantly, every muscle in my body tensed; even Lyris froze beside me, hand instinctively gripping the shaft of her spear, the weapon as much a part of her now as her resolve.
"What was that?" she asked, her voice a near whisper, veined with concern.
Before I could respond, the very air around us split open with a blinding light. A vertical seam cleaved reality in two, stark and precise, a sharp contrast to the chaotic rifts created by the True Ones. This opening gleamed with mathematical perfection, each pulse of energy echoing in harmonious rhythm, like a heartbeat resonating through the fabric of existence.
From this otherworldly incision stepped a figure of stunning stature.
They were impossibly tall, their form shifting and contorting between that of a man, a woman, and an altogether unfathomable being. Clad in flowing robes woven from fractured beams of light and shrouded in an aura of profound stillness, their face was concealed by a mask resembling a calm, expressionless star. The atmosphere around them hummed with an unbearable sense of anticipation.
Lyris moved instinctively, stepping forward with her spear poised and ready for confrontation. "Another Creator?" she demanded, her voice laced with distrust.
"No," I articulated slowly, my own aura coalescing around me like curling smoke. "This is not a creator; this is a herald."
The figure inclined their head in a gesture of acknowledgment, their posture suggesting the cold dignity of an executioner. When they spoke, their voice layered, one tone distinctly human, another imbued with divine resonance, and another mechanical, melding together into a single comprehensible sound.
"I am Elyon, the Twelfth Verse of the Ninth Song.
I come not in wrath… but in inquiry."
Lyris bristled at the proclamation. "Inquiry? After you attempted to erase our very existence?"
Elyon's gaze flicked toward her with an unsettling intensity. "Erasure is but mercy. To allow continuation is to defy the natural order."
Their words bore the weight of divinity, yet I remained steadfast, unmoved by their rhetoric. "Then why are you here, 'Verse'? Has your celestial hierarchy grown fascinated with the audacity of ants that dare scorch their sacred garden?"
Elyon's impassive expression, if one could truly call it that, remained unchanged. "Curious? No. Concerned. A defect has arisen within the divine order. The True Ones should not bleed. And yet, here you stand, a being compelled to bleed."
Their head tilted slightly, analyzing me. "The Heir of Ash. The Fallen Design. The Demon born from Perfection's fracture. You are not mere anomaly… you embody contagion."
For a fleeting heartbeat, reality itself seemed to recoil in response to that word. The spires of the Dominion trembled, as if the realm itself feared the implications of that title.
"Contagion," I repeated softly, the word rolling off my tongue as I savored its lingering meaning. "You sound afraid."
The implications of Elyon's words swirled around me, a challenge, a warning, a portent of the trials that lay ahead in this new and uncertain world. In that moment, I understood that the true battle was not merely against the forces of creation and destruction, but against the very essence of my own existence within this fragile equilibrium.
"Fear," the Herald proclaimed with an unnerving calmness, "lives beneath us, lurking like a predator waiting to strike. However, the art of containment is a task we must undertake."
In a deliberate motion, their hand lifted skyward, and the very fabric of reality contorted around them. Thousands of slender golden threads cascaded from their fingertips, each one shimmering with an ethereal light, weaving themselves into patterns far too intricate for mortal eyes to comprehend. The patterns morphed into radiant rings of light, binding sigils of ancient design, crafted eons ago with one solemn purpose: to imprison deities themselves.
With a fierce determination, Lyris spread her wings wide, the feathers shimmering like polished silver. "Not this time," she declared, her voice resonating with unyielding conviction.
In an instant, her spear ignited with a fierce crimson glow as she propelled herself forward, her form a blur of radiant defiance. The spear collided with the nearest of the brilliant rings, shattering it into a spectacular explosion of red lightning that illuminated the shadows and crackled in the air like a tempest of fury.
Elyon, the Herald, tilted their head once more, an expression of mild curiosity washing over their features, as if they found amusement in the unfolding events. "How fascinating," they mused, "to see the Lieutenant of Heaven take up arms in defense of the Enemy. The irony of it sings beautifully to me."
Lyris, undeterred, snarled defiantly, "I defend what deserves to exist, whether or not you comprehend it."
Then, it was my turn to act.
The world shifted around me as I surged forward through the chaos, my blade trailing behind me in a tumultuous storm of shadows, dark energy swirling in a frenzy. When my steel came into contact with radiant light, the force of the collision resonated through the air like a thunderous clap, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Each strike I made against the Herald was met with a violent response, sending waves of raw, pulsating energy cascading through the very atmosphere, tearing at the half-formed sky above the Dominion, frayed threads of light quivering in our wake.
Elyon did not falter; rather, they absorbed my ferocious assault with an almost languid grace. With a mere gesture, they redirected my own power back at me, causing my momentum to collapse inward, folding upon itself in a surreal and disorienting manner.
"Even your defiance is borrowed," they articulated in that insipidly calm tone. "The darkness you wield was ours before it ever belonged to you."
Their words struck a chord deep within me, shattering whatever remaining restraint held my fury at bay. For the very first time since choosing to defy the celestial order of Heaven, a seething rage ignited in my chest.
"You're profoundly mistaken," I growled, my aura erupting outward in a tempestuous surge of obsidian fire that enveloped me. "I forged this darkness into my own."
With renewed ferocity, I engaged once more, my strikes coming faster and with an intensity that reverberated through me, fueled by the indomitable essence of the Dominion surrounding us. The very ground beneath our feet responded in kind, channeling an electric energy upward, coursing through my limbs as if the land itself was answering my call. Lyris joined me in this furious symphony of rebellion, her spear dancing through the chaos like a comet of searing holy fire. Together, we struck in symphonic harmony, a clash of the unholy and the divine, united against a common foe.
Our combined might surged forth, overwhelming the Herald's formidable presence. The golden rings, once so resolute, fractured into countless pieces, their once-pure light scattering across the battlefield like dying stars decaying in the vastness of space. Elyon stumbled, something akin to pain flickering in their typically placid demeanor for the very first time.
"Impossible…" they gasped, their voice barely a whisper against the clamor of our clashing powers. "A harmony between Sin and Sanctity… cannot exist."
With a voice that echoed like a roaring wildfire, Lyris shouted back, "Then learn it can!"
With one final, decisive strike, my blade descending from above like the very hand of judgment itself, I watched as Elyon's mask fractured under our combined onslaught. But behind that mask, there was no face waiting to be revealed; instead, pure light seeped through the cracks, pouring forth like the bittersweet essence of dying stars.
The Herald staggered backward, their once collected demeanor flickering wildly as their voice transformed, merging with the tumult that surrounded us. "The Ninth will hear of this… The Council will awaken… And when they arrive… your Dominion shall suffocate."
With those foreboding words hanging in the air, Elyon dissolved into a scattering of luminous streaks, drawn back through the very rift from which they had emerged like a wisp of smoke fading into nothingness.
What remained in the wake of their departure was silence, an oppressive, heavy silence that seemed to weigh down on our shoulders like a shroud.
Lyris, exhausted, sank to one knee, her breath coming in labored gasps. "They'll send more," she murmured, the reality settling over her like a dark cloud.
"I know," I replied softly, my voice steady despite the heaviness of her words. "And next time, it won't just be a herald. It will be one of them, one of their own."
Her gaze lifted to meet mine, the glow of determination shimmering faintly within her eyes. "Then when they come, we'll be ready."
I turned towards the edge of the citadel, where the rift had closed, sealing away Elyon's form. But as I scanned the ground, I noticed something that remained: a fragment of the shattered mask, half-buried within the molten earth, still radiating a weak but warm golden light.
I reached down and picked it up gingerly. The fragment felt hot to the touch, akin to touching the sun itself, and a chorus of whispers echoed faintly from within its depths. Distorted, ethereal voices murmured from the void beyond time, recognizing secrets layered within the flickering light.
Nine remain.
The balance tilts.
The Heir of Ash must be unmade.
I clenched my fist tightly around it, my resolve hardening like iron. "Then let them try."
Behind me, the Crimson Dominion pulsed with newfound vigor, a heartbeat resonating with mine, every tower, every vein of molten stone thrumming in perfect rhythm with my will.
This realm was evolving, transforming into something greater. And so was I.
The vast war of Creation had only just begun. And for the first time since my fall from grace, I felt the exhilarating promise of unity and strength; I wasn't fighting this battle alone.
To be continued…