[Inside the Palace]
The palace trembled. Crystal chandeliers swayed, and ancient pillars groaned as shockwaves rippled through the very foundation. The battle outside between titans had begun—but inside, another storm was brewing.
Golden light clashed with writhing tendrils of shadow.
Emperor Charles, bloodied but unyielding, stood tall with his blade glowing in divine radiance. Beside him, the High Priests of the Church lent their power—channeling beams of light to shield him, healing his wounds with sacred chants.
Across the hall, the Empress raged, eyes mad with fury. "You dared to interfere," she shrieked, her voice twisting unnaturally.
The shadows around her deepened.
They coiled up her body, merging into her skin. Flesh turned to black mist, limbs sharpened into jagged claws. Her shriek of hatred became a monstrous roar. The woman was gone.
She had accepted the darkness.
The transformation finished in a blink. The new creature before them stood three meters tall, draped in armor of abyssal flesh. Her face twisted, mouth gaping with fangs, and her once-majestic gown was now writhing in shadows.
And then came the howl.
In an instant, the throne room turned to chaos.
A hundred shadow wolves exploded into existence, bursting through the floor, walls, and ceiling—howling and leaping at everyone in sight.
"Protect the kids!" roared Richard, taking the front lines.
Blades sang and spells flared.
But the battle was suffocating—powerful attacks could collapse the entire palace. Everyone fought while holding back, a dangerous handicap.
Meanwhile, standing calmly like a statue, the Pope remained at Olivia's side.
He didn't even glance at Charlotte.
His only concern was the young woman beside him—Olivia Lanze, the Saintess. The church's future, their miracle.
"This chaos is not yours to touch," he said softly. "You are meant for greater things."
As Empress's shadow wolves tore through guards and nobles, the heroes struck back.
Scarlett danced through the shadows, slashing with precise movements.
Layla twisted and cracked her cursed scythe, crushing any beast that lunged at her.
Lyra's frost magic froze packs of wolves mid-air, shattering them like glass.
Julia commanded soldiers and nobles alike, her voice unwavering amidst the carnage.
Then came the question.
"Where's Noah?" Layla called out, breathless but sharp-eyed.
"Outside," answered Richard, his sword humming with mana. "He's fighting… someone. I sensed it."
Everyone paused.
"Alone?" Scarlett's voice trembled for a heartbeat.
Julia placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's not alone," she smiled. "One more person is out there."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
The smile widened.
"Headmaster Rein Shroud."
Relief swept over them. The old monster himself. If he was there… Noah was in good hands.
The Emperor, battered and breathless, finally raised his voice.
"Everyone. We have no choice. That..is no longer my wife. That thing must be destroyed."
No one hesitated.
Everyone gathered what strength they had left—
Wind, flame, ice, curses, blades, divine light—all focused into one, final assault.
They launched the attack.
A titanic explosion rocked the palace.
The throne room shattered. Shadow and dust swallowed the sky.
And then—silence.
The Empress, no… the monster, was gone.
Sighs of relief passed like a wave.
Until the ground shook again—more violently this time. The air thickened, pressing down on everyone's chest.
Then came the sound.
A deafening boom, like the roar of a god.
They rushed outside.
And what they saw made even the strongest pause in awe.
The sky had gone black—but not from clouds.
It was power.
On one side, amidst blazing winds and rippling time magic, stood Rein Shroud, his robe billowing like a hero of old, fighting the abyssal demon Nyxar.
But it was the other side that drew all eyes.
Beyond the shattered houses, near broken debris and craters of molten stone—
Noah.
His body glowed with streaks of lightning and silver light. His sword, held firm in both hands, radiated with a brilliance so blinding it cast shadows of the heavens themselves.
Before him loomed Shadow Prince Seth, his form shrouded in darkness as thick as night itself.
A pillar of black light surged into the sky, as if the world itself was being turned upside down. Shadows bled into reality, coating everything around in midnight hues. The air grew cold. Heavy. Time itself seemed to freeze in fear.
And it was coming straight for Noah.
He exhaled.
His grip tightened.
And then... He lifted his blade.
The wind stopped.
Time paused—just for a heartbeat.
Lightning shimmered across the edges of his form, while a divine glow pulsed from within his chest. His mana flared, pure and wild, rippling across the ruined battlefield like the breath of a god.
The sword began to glow.
A soft, pale light at first.
But it grew.
And grew.
Until it rivaled a star.
The hilt trembled. Space warped. Golden threads of light, silver streaks of time, crackling veins of lightning, and soft pulses of wind all surged into the blade, fusing into one—creating a radiant core that pulsed with the energy of an entire battlefield.
The storm above seemed to pause in reverence.
Then
He slashed.
And the world responded.
A massive arc of energy exploded from his blade—neither pure light nor shadow, but something beyond. It was as if the heavens had cracked and spilled their essence his strike. The arc was lined with stardust, its center pulsing with gravitational force, distorting the air like a collapsed sun was hidden inside it.
*****
Noah's POV
The ground split open, tearing a chasm beneath me as I slashed my blade.
A ring of blue-white light expanded outward from his feet, disintegrating debris, vaporizing leftover shadows with a melodic hum.
The Celestial Void flew upward—
And met the Shadow Cataclysm head-on.
The collision was not sound. It was silence.
A vacuum formed at the point of impact.
Then—
BOOOOOM!
A delayed implosion shook the skies. The two forces wrestled violently, struggling for dominance. Tendrils of abyssal shadow clawed at the edges of His celestial arc, wrapping around it like chains—trying to smother it.
But the star-born blade would not yield.
Light devoured the darkness.
Each tendril was seared to ash, each curse silenced by celestial purity.
The shadows shrieked—actual screams—from the dying power.
Then—
A radiant explosion burst outward, a dome of golden-white light washing over the battlefield, ripping apart the last remnants of Seth's domain.
The sky cleared. The clouds scattered.
His [Shadow Cataclysm]—the same power that had once nearly killed me—was no more.
And only my breath remained.
I stood amidst the fading embers of starlight, my blade had broken after my last attack.
Seth fell before me, battered and uncon6, his shadow cloak in tatters.
The battlefield was scorched and broken.
I fell to one knee, not from pain—but from the weight of what I had done.
The battlefield was scorched. The silence was loud.
I had faced the abyss.
And I had not blinked.
I had won.
–To be continued...