Azriel’s thoughts raced as he felt the weight of everyone’s stares, their confusion palpable.
‘Why… why do I keep remembering this?’
What were the chances that Mira meant the same Sky Devils Azriel had read about in the ancient texts? Perhaps it was a coincidence. Maybe he was overthinking things. The Void Realm was vast and barely explored, after all. It could easily be another void creature with a similar description.
The Sunken Islands, in particular, were considered one of the tamest known parts of the Void Realm. What were the odds of encountering something like that here? And even if it was what Azriel suspected, perhaps it wasn’t as catastrophic as he feared.
Yet, his heart raced.
‘What is this feeling? Am I just paranoid? Yes, that must be it. I’m overtired. My body and mind need rest.’
“My prince, are you alright?”
Mira’s voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned to her, seeing her concern etched on her face. Her gaze was confused but steady.
Azriel’s eyes flickered to Amon and his father, Joaquin.
‘Should I tell them?’
Just in case… perhaps he should. It was better to be cautious and prevent a tragedy than ignore it until it was too late.
Azriel locked eyes with Joaquin, who had been watching him silently the entire time. His father’s expression was unreadable, disturbingly so.
‘I should tell him. Just in cas—’
Azriel’s blood ran cold. A shiver shot down his spine as he stared into Joaquin’s eyes. A single thought seared into his mind.
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Why was he here? Why was one of the Four Great Kings present in a place like this? After everything that had happened, Azriel had overlooked it. Why was Malcolm here? Why was Amon here? And, by extension, why were he and Jasmine here? With them present, Mira was here as well.
Just why would three Grandmasters and a Saint gather here? Each one of them could shake the world with their power and influence. Why was Joaquin’s presence here concealed? Why all the secrecy when it was bound to cause problems? Azriel knew his father’s personality—Joaquin was the type to disregard others’ opinions entirely.
Why had the system claimed Joaquin’s life was in danger in the first place?
It all circled back to that singular question:
Why?
Azriel’s mind raced to the runes he had decrypted in the underground section of the castle. The realization hit him like a thunderclap.
‘Ah, right. He knows.’
Of course, he did. Joaquin always knew. But what Azriel hadn’t known until now was just how unhinged his father was. Now, it was clear.
‘I have no right to judge, though,’ he thought bitterly.
For some reason, knowing the depths of Joaquin’s madness made Azriel more certain of their blood relation. No… perhaps it was that same madness—the madness every person in the Four Great Clans harbored—that set them apart from the rest of humanity. It was that madness that had allowed them to rise to power and rule Asia.
These thoughts passed in mere seconds as Joaquin finally broke the silence.
“Why are you ignoring Mira? Is something the matter, Azriel?”
Hearing his father’s voice, Azriel’s lips curled into a faint smile. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes as he tilted his head toward the endless gray sky. When he opened his eyes again, he turned his gaze to Joaquin.
Azriel’s smile grew wider, more crooked. His voice dropped, darker and sharper than before.
“You really can’t blame them this time, Dad. What they faced was something called a Sky Devil. Or rather, it used to be called that. They are pets of the very beings you came here to hunt.”
For a moment, his words hung in the air. Most stared at him in confusion.
Almost everyone.
Gradually, Joaquin’s eyes narrowed. Mira still looked perplexed, but Malcolm’s eyes widened in realization. And Amon… his grin split wide across his face before a deep, booming laugh erupted from his throat.
“It seems you’re even more knowledgeable than your father,” Amon said, his voice full of amusement.
Azriel kept his gaze to Joaquin, who remained silent for several moments. His expression was unreadable, as always. Then, a tiny black hole appeared at Joaquin’s feet. An arrow shot out from it, which Joaquin calmly caught in his hand. Without a word, he held it up in front of Azriel.
Azriel’s eyes widened in shock.
‘Don’t tell me…’
His gaze darted between the arrow and his father. Seeing Azriel’s reaction, Joaquin let the arrow fall, and another black hole consumed it. He sighed.
“It seems you know.”
“…I do,” Azriel admitted. He hesitated before asking, “That arrow… does this mean you caught one?”
But Joaquin shook his head, much to Azriel’s disappointment.
“It came as fast as it left. The arrow almost pierced my heart. If not for your warning, I wouldn’t have taken such heavy precautions.”
Azriel paled slightly. He was certain Joaquin wouldn’t die even if his heart were pierced, but the thought of his father being hurt—or worse—made his stomach churn. Sensing his unease, Joaquin placed a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder.
The tension began to dissipate. The soldiers exhaled audibly, their relief palpable.
Joaquin’s tone softened, though his pride was evident as he spoke.
“We have much to discuss once we’re home. If what you said is true, that knowledge could benefit us in unimaginable ways.”
Then, his gaze turned cold as he addressed Mira, Amon, and Malcolm.
“Stand up. Break your anchors from SICVC. You too, Malcolm. Open your void rifts. We’re leaving immediately.”
The soldiers erupted into cheers at the order. Even in the presence of a Saint, who is a Great King, and three Grandmasters, the unpredictable nature of this place made Earth infinitely preferable.
Azriel ignored the jubilation. His eyes returned to the gray sky and the ink-black water below.
‘It makes me wonder, though. If Dad already faced one of them here, why was that Sky Devil alone?’
A pet should protect its master, shouldn’t it?
Then again, considering the master and the pet in question, perhaps that was a foolish thought. Azriel knew one thing for certain—this place was no longer a sanctuary. If it ever had been, it wasn’t anymore. If it were, everyone here would already be dead.
As he stared into the gray sky, Joaquin’s sudden shout shattered the fragile calm.
“Stand up! Prepare for battle!”
“”!!””
No one questioned him. Instinctively, they obeyed. Azriel turned to his father, seeing the grim seriousness in Joaquin’s eyes. His heart began to race once more.
Then, the sound erupted—a sound that defied description, something felt more than heard. It was a symphony of three roars that thundered through the air like the final blast of trumpets heralding the end of the world. The very atmosphere seemed to groan under the weight of that unholy vibration.
When it struck, the wind screamed—not like a mere gale, but like a living thing in torment. It tore at the world with a ferocity that stripped flesh from bone, splitting rocks and snapping the ancient trees like brittle kindling.
Almost everyone, including Azriel, fell to their knees, clutching their ears as blood began to trickle from them. Only Amaya, Joaquin, Mira, Malcolm, and Amon remained standing.
Yet, even they were not unaffected. Mira and Malcolm bore rare expressions of caution, while Joaquin’s face grew colder, his gaze sharp as he spoke.
“It seems it didn’t fear the two of you enough to flee.”
The dark sea raged in response, as though possessed by the same madness. Its waves, once ominously still, rose into titanic shapes that defied comprehension, crashing against each other with a violence that seemed capable of shattering continents.
And then, the gray sky split.
The clouds parted at a single point, bleeding a blinding white light. It wasn’t light meant to illuminate but to sear—to condemn. The purity was so absolute it felt like judgment itself. Yet even that brilliance was fleeting, for out of the rift came it.
At first, it was only a shadow. A shadow so vast it blanketed the heavens, stretching for miles—a thing of incomprehensible size and shape. As it emerged, grotesque detail after grotesque detail came into view.
The clouds darkened once more.
It moved with impossible speed, and as it neared, its true form was revealed—a monstrosity so utterly wrong that even nature recoiled from its presence.
It had three heads, each atop a neck so long they seemed to pierce the heavens. The left bore a visage of skeletal decay, its flesh stripped away to reveal a grinning, bone-white horror. The center was alive with writhing tendrils of shadow, its eyes burning like dying suns, and a maw that seemed to twist and fold reality itself. The right head dripped with molten ichor, its obsidian fangs glistening as though eager to devour existence itself. Each head bore four horns, twisted like a crown of madness.
Its wings stretched wider than cities—torn and tattered, yet pulsating with a sickly glow, as though carrying the blood of stars. With each beat, the air trembled, and the ground quaked, as though the planet itself sought to flee its wrath.
Cracks ran along its body, glowing faintly with an infernal red light, as though barely containing an apocalypse within. Massive chains wrapped around its torso, carved with runes of an ancient language that seemed to weep as they struggled to bind it.
Its tail lashed behind it, stretching into the horizon, the tip so sharp it seemed capable of cutting through reality itself.
A living blasphemy.
This was the creature Mira had fought. The nightmare Mira and Amon, even together, had failed to defeat.
Seeing such a horrific creature, Azriel felt a cold, alien energy course through his body.
It wasn’t fear—it was something else. It numbed his senses and forced his mind into a chilling calm. His body relaxed despite itself, allowing him to think clearly.
[Soul’s Crucible]
The passive effect activated instantly, working overtime.
Without it, Azriel was certain he would be weeping like the others who had already succumbed. Some had even fallen unconscious. The mere presence of the creature was suffocating, making it hard to breathe.
It drew closer, crossing the black sea of the sunken islands.
But as he watched, Azriel noticed something. It might not have died when Mira and Amon fought it, but it bore the marks of heavy damage.
It was injured.
And it was angry.
Gritting his teeth, Azriel pushed himself off the ground. His legs trembled violently—no, his whole body trembled. But he didn’t stop. Summoning Void Eater, he slammed the blade into the ground to stabilize himself, breathing heavily.
As the monstrous creature loomed closer, Azriel chuckled.
A thought flickered through his mind.
‘A hydra… and it can fly…’
Despite its overwhelming and grotesque form, Azriel found it breathtakingly beautiful.
He glanced at the others who were still standing. Their eyes were locked on him, wide with shock and disbelief.
Azriel smirked. A strange amusement settled in his chest.
‘This skill… it’s absurdly overpowered.’
With a tired smile, he spoke.
“What are you staring at me for? It’s just a Grade 1 Monarch. Go and kill it. I’ve always wondered… what does dragon meat taste like?”
The words hung in the air, freezing them in place. Their minds seemed unable to process what they had just heard.
And then Amon laughed. The sound was loud and unrestrained.
Even Joaquin joined in, a deep, rumbling laugh that made everyone flinch.
Amon raised his voice, addressing the group.
“What are you all cowering for? Your king and prince are still standing! I don’t expect much from you government dogs, but the rest of you… do you dare stain the Crimson name?”
The words struck like a spark to dry tinder. Faces hardened, resolve flickered in their eyes. One by one, they began to rise. Some trembled, some stumbled and fell back, but they kept trying.
The hydra drew closer, its vast shadow swallowing everything in its path.
Azriel, however, wasn’t worried. If its master were here, that would be different. But it wasn’t.
Using Void Eater as a crutch, Azriel approached Jasmine and Iryndra. Both were kneeling, though Iryndra clutched her head, hands pressed against her ears. Jasmine, despite being on her knees, stared at the hydra without a trace of fear.
Noticing his approach, she glanced at him and smiled faintly.
“My little brother seems full of surprises today.”
Azriel chuckled, extending a hand. She gripped it, and together they helped Iryndra to her feet.
“That’s why I’m never boring,” Azriel said with a smirk.
“If Master is boring,” a voice chimed in, “then it’s the world that needs fixing.”
Azriel turned sharply to see Nol standing beside him, grinning like an excited child. He seemed utterly unbothered by the unholy hydra bearing down on them.
Joaquin stepped forward.
“I suppose it’s time to show you children why your father is the best.”
Anticipation surged through the group. All eyes were on Joaquin now.
“The great Crimson King against a hydra…” Azriel thought.
The hydra moved closer, its massive form somehow both slow and terrifyingly fast. It had already crossed half of the black sea.
But then, everything changed.
Suddenly, everyone froze. Even Joaquin stopped, his expression turning grim.
The black sea split open.
A vertical rift tore through the water, stretching endlessly like a mouth yawning wide. A shockwave rippled through the air—not from the hydra, but from something else. Find your next read at empire
The hydra halted mid-flight, its colossal wings flapping uncertainly as it stared down at the rift.
Azriel noticed it then—something stirred within the darkness. Something far more abyssal.
And then it emerged.
A single, colossal tentacle broke the surface. It dwarfed the hydra in size, an incomprehensible mass of slithering flesh.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Before anyone could react, the tentacle moved.
It struck with a speed Azriel couldn’t comprehend. In an instant, the hydra’s three heads were screaming—no, howling—as the monstrous appendage coiled around it.
The dark, slick flesh constricted, crushing the hydra with ease. Then, just as quickly, it dragged the creature down into the depths.
The rift sealed shut.
The sea grew still once more.
And silence reigned.
No human dared to speak.