Betrayed by Heaven, I Became The Demon Lord
Chapter 17: When The Sky Forgot How To Breathe
In the aftermath of a god's proclamation, there exists a silence so profound that it eclipses all other sounds, resonating with a weight that seems to grip the very fabric of existence itself. It was in this stillness that the enormity of my actions settled in-a soundless echo reverberating through the vast expanses of the Dominion, a scar etched deep into the timeline of our existence, leaving traces of its horror that would never completely fade.
The once-vibrant crimson of the sky, a tapestry of glowing hues, no longer burned with a fiery intensity; instead, it bled-a grotesque transformation. Wisps of golden light poured forth from jagged cracks in the firmament, leaking like a divine infection that stung against the oppressive black mist which had previously obeyed my every command. The world around me was morphing, reshaping itself in real time-an unwelcome transformation brought about by nothing other than my own actions.
A short distance away stood Lyris, her silhouette both striking and sorrowful. Her spear, a stalwart extension of her being, was thrust deeply into the fractured earth, a testament to her strength and resolve. The radiant glow emanating from the rift above cast her features in an ethereal light, rendering her exquisite yet hauntingly vacant, as though the vibrancy of life itself had been drained away. She was laboring to breathe, and the exhaustion was palpable in every quiver of her majestic wings, which flickered like candle flames in the wind.
For what felt like an eternity, we remained locked in this heavy silence, a formidable barrier separating our thoughts and feelings amidst the chaos enveloping us.
At last, she broke the stillness with words laced with both frustration and understanding. "You didn't tell me it would be like that."
"I didn't know," I replied quietly, the weight of my voice feeling detached, as if someone else were speaking. "I believed I was merely opening a door. I had no inkling that I was… awakening something much older."
Looking up at me, her eyes softened with a look that mingled compassion and concern. "You always do that, you know."
A slight frown pulled at my lips as I sought clarity. "Do what, exactly?"
"Blame yourself for simply existing."
Her words struck harder than I had anticipated, and in that moment, a truth I had buried deep within me surfaced. My mouth parted as I tried to formulate a response-an argument-but no sound emerged. Her insight was too close to the truth. I did bear the heavy burden of self-blame. Every moment I had lived, each breath I drew, and all the powers I wielded were taken from something divinely sacred, something that was never meant to awaken.
"Lyris," I ventured hesitantly, my voice barely above a whisper. "When you look at me now… what do you see?"
She paused, her golden gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that felt as if it could penetrate through the chaos surrounding us. "I see someone who refuses to break, no matter what the heavens throw at him."
"Even if what I become isn't… human anymore?" My voice trembled with uncertainty, fear lacing every word.
With steady resolve, she reached out her hand, trembling only slightly as she bridged the gap between us. "Then I'll still be here. Even if the world deems you a monster once more."
As the Dominion quaked beneath us, resonating with the turmoil of our emotions, it felt as if the realm itself was attuned to our plight. A faint pulse of black and gold spread outward from where we stood, intertwining the lights of both the divine and the demonic in an unsettling dance.
This transformation shouldn't have been viable, yet here it was before us-a testament to the reality that the Dominion could no longer be classified as merely demonic. It was evolving, just as I was-and that notion filled me with a blend of dread and anticipation.
Turning my gaze toward the horizon, I beheld the cracks in the sky widening, the jagged lines webbing across the expanse. "The Ninth claimed that I wasn't meant to exist. If there is any truth in that, then each breath I take reshapes that which was meant to be."
"Then rewrite it," she urged boldly, her words ringing with conviction.
I met her eyes, searching for understanding.
A delicate smile graced her lips-a weary, fragile thing, yet undeniably real. "You speak of destiny as if it were an unbreakable law, but you seem to forget who you truly are. You defied Heaven itself. You shattered the script once. Do it once more."
Her words sunk deep into the recesses of my mind, reaching places untouched by pain-deeper than any sword could penetrate. I wanted, desperately, to embrace their meaning. But the agony coursing through my veins served as a grim reminder that attempting to rewrite fate came with an insurmountable cost. The golden veins beneath my skin pulsed with a disquieting energy, heralding the divine infection weaving itself into my very essence. Each heartbeat felt like a violent struggle, as though I were being torn apart-nailed between the dichotomy of half demon and half something infinitely more complex.
Noticing my discomfort, Lyris drew nearer. Before I could react, her delicate hand pressed gently against my chest, right over the faint golden glow coursing beneath my skin. In that instant, her touch seemed to stabilize the tumultuous light-calming the storm of pain momentarily.
"How are you doing that?" I murmured, my curiosity piqued and laced with awe.
Her gaze was inscrutable. "The Dominion reacts to your emotions. Perhaps… so do I."
A gentle breeze stirred around us, soft and melodic, carrying the ethereal whispers of souls unseen. The black mist that had once been a manifestation of chaos shifted toward her, almost reverently, bending in her presence. She shouldn't have been able to interact with that energy, yet there she stood, harmoniously entwined with it.
Perhaps the Dominion had chosen her as well.
Then, amidst the cacophony of the changing realm, I sensed a faint whisper weaving its way through the tumult-soft yet insistent-not from the Ninth with their ominous warning, but something much deeper, something innate within me.
She steadies you. But when the dream ends, all anchors must break.
The realization hit me like a sudden blow, and I staggered, gripping my head in a desperate attempt to stifle the intrusion. Lyris immediately came to my aid, supportively wrapping her arms around me. "What just happened?" she asked with a mix of concern and urgency.
I could hardly form the words, my breath hitching in my throat. "The voice," I murmured. "It's still there. It's watching."
Her eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze sharpening into a focused beam. "Then let it watch," she declared resolutely. "We'll show it what happens when the dream fights back." Her words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken promise of rebellion, a fierce determination shimmering in her voice.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself almost smiling, the edges of my lips twitching upward in what could have been mistaken for hope. Yet, it was more than just a fleeting emotion; it was a glimmer of something profound that had been absent for far too long.
She didn't fully grasp the immense significance of what she was saying and the potential consequences that loomed ahead - not yet, at least. But she possessed something I had lost long ago in the depths of my doubts and despair: faith. Not the kind that flickers for gods or relies on whispered prophecies echoing through the ages, but a raw, unyielding belief in me. The realization of her faith ignited a mix of warmth and apprehension spiraling within me and that scared me far more than the ominous threat of the Ninth ever could.
Because faith, in its essence, is a finely crafted blade - it has the power to cut both ways, shaping destinies with its double-edged presence.
As we stood there, firmly side by side beneath the weight of a sky streaked with crimson and bruised purple, a faint sound rippled through the Dominion, sending a cascading shiver down my spine. It was a sound reminiscent of glass fracturing, a sharp whisper that seemed to reach through the ages, echoing across the heavens with a sense of foreboding.
The cracks in the fabric of our reality widened, revealing fissures through which light surged - not the radiant glow of divine intervention and not the ominous shadows of something sinister, but an entirely new essence that shimmered and pulsed with vibrant energy.
This was a light created from our resolve, something born from the depths of our shared struggle and defiance. It was a testament to our unyielding spirit, a symbol of hope that had finally begun to rise from the ashes of despair.
To be continued…