Atlas rose.
The fire guttered from his body like dying stars, not because it had conquered him, but because it had bent, knelt, and surrendered.
His system chid in his mind, a series of cascading notifications that blazed across his inner vision like the tolling of celestial bells.
[Faith Points 987]
[Faith Points 465]
[Faith Points 41]
The numbers climbed with each heartbeat, the faith from the city of Babylon until here, a flood of belief pouring into him, the priests’ awe feeding the system, their fear transmuted into power.
But Atlas did not care.
He didn’t even look.
His golden eyes—no, burning suns—were fixed not on himself, not on his newfound glory, but on the image that had carved itself into his bones across endless cycles of tornt: Aurora, burning, screaming, unraveling before his helpless gaze. Again and again and again.
It wasn’t his own skin he rembered flaying to charcoal, nor his own lungs shriveling with the stench of holy ash. It was hers. It was always hers.
The points ant nothing. The titles ant nothing.
Only one truth mattered.
They had thought she was a side character.
A disposable fla to test his resolve.
They were wrong.
His chest heaved, his voice a thunderclap as he bellowed to the night:
"Everyone will pay."
The words shook the cliff, cracked stone, sent dust raining like gray snowfall. Even the fire seed to lean away, as if terrified it had ignited the wrong man.
His aura burst outward in the next instant, a tidal wave of force so imnse the priests were flung like dry leaves.
[Emperor’s Aura > Mythoic Aura]
The system’s announcent was cold, factual, a whisper of divine record. But the reality was anything but sterile.
Winds howled. Feathers tore from wings. Robes whipped like banners in a hurricane. The very cliff groaned beneath the pressure of Atlas’s rising wrath.
Aurora gasped as her chains rattled, glowed—then snapped. The ancient runes etched upon them bled light for a heartbeat, then crumbled to dust under the weight of his fury.
The goblin and the dwarf, eyes wide with terror and disbelief, stumbled free as their shackles shattered.
They did not linger. They scrambled, bolted, vanishing into the night with the desperation of prey who had just watched the predator bare its fangs.
Aurora’s halo slid from her brow like a crown of broken glass, clattering against stone. The runes fizzled, their grip dissolving.
Breath rushed back into her lungs with a sob, and power surged through her veins like a river breaking a dam.
Lightning flickered at her fingertips, old spells—the ones she had buried deep within her flesh like coals—sparking alive again.
She floated, body rising as though weight itself had abandoned her. But when her eyes found Atlas, she froze.
He was radiant. Terrible. Divine and wrathful, a storm in the shape of a man.
And he was angry.
Not at her. Not even at the fire.
At them.
Or rather, for her.
Her lips trembled. She wanted to rush to him, to cling to him, to whisper her thanks. But the fury in his eyes warned her back.
They blazed with centuries of pain, with a thousand deaths endured at her expense. He had watched her die too many tis. Burned too many tis.
And tonight, he had broken.
"...Atlas..." she whispered, voice fragile, almost afraid.
He didn’t look at her.
His gaze swept over the priests, pinning them in place like insects skewered on a blade.
"The wrath of god," Atlas thundered, his voice swelling until the cliffside itself seed to echo it back, "is upon you. My wrath.. is upon you!"
Inside him, light ignited.
[Demon God’s Essence — Resonating]
[Jörmungandr’s Essence — Resonating]
[Yggdrasil’s Essence — Resonating]
The resonance was agony and ecstasy woven into one, a symphony of power old as creation itself.
His veins glowed like molten rivers. His bones sang with a hum that was not of this world. His skin split with golden fissures, not wounds but revelations.
Aurora covered her mouth, awe and terror in equal asure.
And then his eyes lit fully, golden orbs now burning white, brighter than suns.
[World Understanding used. Skill Acquired: Flaring Sight.]
Atlas tilted his head, gaze narrowing. Beams of pure white fire lanced from his eyes, twin lances of judgnt that roared through the air like thunder made flesh.
The very sa holy fire they had used to tornt him, now turned against them.
The priests scread. So fell to their knees in worship, others in terror. They had called him prophet. They had doubted. Now they were ash caught between the two.
The fire roared toward them—
—and stopped.
Sothing had landed.
A shield of wings spread, four in number, dark and radiant.
The fire struck them, hissing, devouring feathers, burning edges. The winged figure grunted, her body trembling with strain, but she held.
The priests gasped.
Aurora’s eyes widened.
Atlas’s pupils narrowed, the fire dimming but not gone.
"Ureil," he growled.
The seraph straightened, smoke curling from her feathers, ash saring her cheeks. Pain lanced through her every motion, but her eyes—silver and stern—did not waver.
"You would slaughter them all," she said, voice steady but lined with strain. "Blindly. Ruthlessly. That old man... he was right. There is a chance you might—"
She never finished.
Atlas moved faster than thought. One mont he stood amidst fire and ruin; the next, his hand was clamped around her throat, iron fingers crushing.
The priests scread, so rushing forward, others retreating in terror. Aurora’s breath caught, torn between relief and horror.
Atlas lifted Ureil as if she weighed nothing, golden eyes searing into hers.
"Round two," he snarled, wings of fla unfurling from his back, and in a blink they were airborne—ascending into the night sky, leaving the cliff, the priests, the fire, and Aurora in their wake.
The wind shrieked. The world below shrank.
And the gods themselves seed to lean closer.
---
The cliff fell silent but for the ragged breathing of priests, the crackle of dying fire, and Aurora’s trembling heartbeat.
Her chains lay shattered. Her halo broken.
But Atlas was gone.
And the day had only just begun.
User Comments
0 comments from readers