"Clean," I said flatly, holding out my hand and locking eyes with him. "Now give me my payment."
Raphael didn't answer right away. He casually reached into the cooling, molten slag of the Clockwork Conductor and pulled out a glowing Tier 4 Ether Crystal. Then, he looked down at his other hand, where the condensed essence of King Charles had already formed into a much brighter, pulsing Tier 5 Ether Crystal.
A dark, heavy laugh bubbled up from his chest. It didn't sound human at all.
"Payment," Raphael echoed.
He tossed both crystals onto the scorched wooden floorboards at my feet. They clattered against the wood and stopped. A Tier 4 and a Tier 5. Fortunes that normal Awakened would burn cities for, just discarded like loose change.
"You're so focused on the scraps, Lucian," Raphael said, his crimson eyes glowing in the dim light of the stage. "You don't even see the board you're standing on."
I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the crystals for a second. The royal blue Ether flared dangerously around my fingers. "What are you talking about?"
"Charles didn't orchestrate the Mud Ritual," Raphael said, stepping right over the King's ashes. "Do you honestly think that arrogant idiot had the arcane knowledge to sacrifice millions of people in London? To burn his own capital to the ground just to skip a Tier?"
My breath caught. "You... you said you advised him."
"I used him," Raphael smiled. It was a cold, terrifying expression. "It takes an ocean of blood and millions of screaming souls to advance into the divine realms. I needed those deaths. I needed the sacrifice of London to fuel my own advancement. To reach Tier 7. To become the Grounded Angel of War."
My stomach dropped. Millions of people. Dead. Just so this monster could power his own advancement to Tier 7. Charles just took the blame for it and got the leftover scraps of power that ended up breaking his soul anyway.
Suddenly, a deep rumble shook the entire clocktower.
[System Alert: The Narrative has Concluded.]
[Mirror Dimension is Collapsing...]
The red velvet curtains around the stage began to tear into blinding white light. The ceiling groaned as the fabric of the dimension started to rip itself apart. But Raphael didn't even look around. He kept his eyes locked on me.
"And I know exactly who you are, too," Raphael whispered. His voice cut through the loud groaning of the collapsing dimension with unnatural clarity. "I've known you were the host of Pride long before we ever met in Bransy Town. I knew what was hiding in your chest even before I advanced to Tier 7."
My blood ran cold. He knew. He had always known.
"It is my divine duty to kill you," Raphael continued, tilting his head. "To rip that Sin from your chest and burn it. But... I won't. Not today. You're too entertaining. I want to see what the host of the Morningstar does. Grow stronger, Lucian. Try to survive long enough for me to actually enjoy hunting you."
Something inside my chest snapped.
It wasn't a hero's sense of justice for the millions of dead in London. It was my Constraint. The Sin of Pride.
I was only a Tier 2 Awakened. The sheer gap in power between a Tier 2 and a Tier 7 Grounded Angel was like comparing a candle to a dying sun. I should have been paralyzed. I should have been suffocating under his spiritual pressure. But the massive, invisible structure inside my soul—the Cenotaph of Pride—roared to life. The Throne of Glass in my mind violently rejected the idea of being looked down upon. Of being called "entertainment." Of being let go like a stray dog.
My Pride absolutely refused to bow.
"I'll show you a hunt," I roared.
I didn't reach for the crystals on the floor. I lunged at him. The royal blue Ether exploded from my body in a massive, chaotic wave, completely shattering the marble and wood beneath my boots.
I didn't use Event Horizon. I didn't use the standard weight of King's Aura. I channeled every single drop of Tier 2 Ether I had, drawing directly from the Cenotaph of Pride, and forced it into the ultimate, concentrated mathematical formula I had been trying to perfect. The golden ratio of space and gravity.
"Phi!" I shouted.
I thrust both hands forward. A tiny, perfect singularity of pure royal blue gravity sparked right in front of Raphael's chest. It was designed to completely fold space inward, crushing whatever it touched with absolute, infinite pressure.
The attack slammed into him.
The shockwave was so massive it blew me backward. I crashed hard into the collapsing floorboards, skidding to a halt near the edge of the stage. My head spun, and I coughed up a splatter of blood, my body pushed way past its Tier 2 limits.
I forced myself up, my hands shaking from the sheer output of Ether.
The smoke and steam cleared. Raphael was still standing there. But the human disguise had cracked under the sheer, localized pressure of the singularity.
His coat was torn to shreds. His hair had lengthened dramatically, turning into flowing, vibrant red locks that whipped in the air like actual fire. And tearing out from his back were two massive, terrifying wings made of pure red feathers. They spanned huge across the collapsing room, radiating a heat and an aura that felt like standing inside a furnace.
The Tier 7 Angel of War, in his true form.
He looked down at his chest. My Phi attack had actually managed to bypass his divine defenses just enough to tear a small, bloody scratch right across his skin.
Raphael touched the blood. A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a terrifying, burning promise. He didn't look amused anymore.
The white light of the dimension finally exploded, swallowing the stage, his red wings, and his face.
Right before the gravity gave out entirely and the dimension spat us out, I snatched the Tier 4 and Tier 5 crystals off the floor, clutching them tightly in my hand.
"Next time," I spat into the blinding light as the world ripped us apart, "I'm aiming for your head."