Chapter 18 — The World Beneath a Bleeding Moon
Victoria did not die.
But what the angel did to her was cruel enough that death would have been mercy.
What the Angel Did
The angel did not take her as a prisoner—but as proof.
Proof that faith could still break love.
She was bound in a sanctified chamber beneath the Church, her body restrained by chains carved with holy runes that burned her skin whenever she struggled. Every prayer spoken near her felt like a blade pressing into her heart.
The angel never raised its voice.
Never showed anger.
That was the worst part.
"You are the reason he exists," it said calmly.
"So you will also be the reason he falls."
They did not torture her for information alone.
They made her watch.
Visions were forced into her mind—Max running, Max bleeding, Max screaming her name as angels descended on him like executioners.
"See?" the priests whispered.
"He chose darkness over you."
Victoria bit her lip until blood filled her mouth.
She refused to cry.
She refused to deny him.
That refusal saved her life.
They kept her alive because she was useful.
A leash. A threat. A future knife aimed at Max's heart.
The Rumor That Reached Max
Max never saw her suffering.
All he felt was the sudden silence where her presence used to be.
The world felt wrong without her—like breathing with only one lung.
He hunted, fed, trained, but every victory felt empty. Every night, her face appeared behind his closed eyes.
Then he heard it.
A whisper carried through hunters, merchants, refugees:
"A holy saint escaped the Church."
The words struck him harder than any blade.
Escaped? Alive?
Hope surged—violent, painful, uncontrollable.
And that was exactly why Max broke again.
Why Max Turned Back
If Victoria was alive…
If she was running…
If the Church was hunting her…
Then Max could not afford to be weak.
He realized something terrible and honest:
As long as he stayed by her side now, she would die.
So he did the cruelest thing love ever asked of him.
He left.
Not because he stopped loving her—but because he loved her too much.
Returning to the Ancient One
Max returned to the ancient being he once rejected.
Noctyrr waited, as if he had always known Max would come back.
"You refused to be my student," the ancient one said softly.
"Because of the girl."
Max's hands trembled.
"I thought love could protect her," he said.
"I was wrong."
He lifted his head, eyes empty, voice steady with something colder than rage.
"When I return from this training," Max said,
"I will destroy the Church."
Not in revenge.
Not in madness.
In judgment.
Noctyrr opened a portal without another word.
The World of the Red Moon
Max stepped into another world.
The sky was endless and hollow.
The land was cracked, black, lifeless.
Above it all hung a moon—not white, but red, glowing as if soaked in blood. Its light spilled across the earth like a wound that never healed.
There was no wind. No birds. No sound. Only sorrow.
This was a world abandoned by gods.
Perfect for becoming something they would fear.
Max fell to his knees.
For the first time since everything began, he whispered—not to gods, not to monsters—
"To you… please be alive."
Training in Solitude
He trained there.
Bled there.
Screamed there.
Every strike fueled by the same thought:
Would she be alright?
Would she survive without him?
Would she hate him for leaving?
He believed she was probably dead.
And that belief hardened him.
Because if she truly was gone—
Then when Max returned…
The Church would burn.
And the world would learn what it meant
to create a monster
and call it justice.