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Netherwitch - 60
🕑 Added 2025-11-18 17:00:05 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 59 | Table of Contents
Remiel, Angel of Judgment and head of the Heavenly Inquisition
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Chapter 60
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The sky unfolded in an unstoppable wave.
Ki flooded the auction house with heavenly azure, the expanding front smashing through their private booth. Glass shattered. Wood splintered. Shards and fragments dinged off Sylvia’s armored barrier like bullets, creating cracks in invisible space. Then, as floor and ceiling turned into a rolling, disintegrating mass the brunt of the tide hit her.
Sylvia flew away with it.
She could’ve resisted. The flow of ki was like water, but with the waltz of flowers Sylvia could grip the fabric of reality. Add to this her strength and level, and the asteri could’ve leaned into the shock-wave, skidding back mere meters.
Instead, she crushed her instincts and let the expanding domain throw her through the auction house.
Walls gave way to overwhelming pressure. Sylvia tumbled through the air, thudding off a thick beam before dancing petals turned her spin into a sailing glide. A cloud of debris rolled around her: glass, panels, and broken struts. Blue light filtered through the gaps.
The swell of azure softened.
Sylvia let herself plunge toward the Ignis Rosa’s deck. A haze of dust hung in the air, mixed with the thick vapor of dissolving essence. The asteri blinked twice to get her bearings.
Then she triggered her Three-Faced Visage.
Flesh melted. Twin tresses of coiled silver transformed into a wave of curly brown. Pastel pink eyes deepened into dark voids. It wasn’t only her body, Sylvia’s clothes were altered. Her deep, purple dress smoothed into yellow robes. Her towering heels shortened until they were all but flat. Her beret evaporated, replaced by a ribbon tied at her back.
P-p-pat. Th-thud. Boom.
Objects small and heavy crashed down. Slowly, the sky cleared. Above was starry void, the black night shimmering with celestial light. There she glimpsed a distant fleet, sixteen ships anchored a dozen kilometers away – their shapes a little to the left of Turrim Amoris.
But when Sylvia looked forward, she witnessed something entirely different. Instead of darkness, she saw blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Warm light fell over the world like a divine gift. A domain, a four hundred meter dome of ki, replaced the logic of the world. The broad expanse swallowed an entire petal of the Ignis Rosa.
And at its center was Remiel.
The archangel remained on the auction’s stage. The closest walls had been blown away, but much of the House of Silver stood stalwart. Sylvia could see the cracked wood fusing. Splinters and fragments were pulled into the building’s body as though it were some abominable horror regenerating its flesh.
As a warrior mastered their ki, they advanced through realms. Manifestation became transformation. Then transformation would turn into enlightenment. In this realm, life force would sublime. A warrior’s will would exceed reality, the world itself becoming something like a dream: soft, frail, and malleable.
With this, ephemeral concepts could be made tangible. Fate rendered into a thread easily severed. Law converted into chains then slipped or broken. Psychic spells treated as a physical substance then smashed with a fist.
It was with this power that Remiel closed his hand.
A thin line of smudged color stretched across blue sky. When the archangel’s hand closed, this blurred existence congealed into a solid object. Two hundred meters away, a crystal urn appeared, golden light shimmering through its many facets. It was the jar holding Jophiel’s soul.
Sylvia finally understood.
The moment Remiel had touched the urn, it’d teleported toward Turrim Amoris. In order to catch this object, the seraph had violently released his domain. The force of this brutal expansion had ripped through the House of Silver, tossing the silver-haired witch through the air with the fury of a tornado.
Electric eyes turned. Remiel glared in the direction of a stone throne.
“Is this your doing?”
Behind the gray-haired angel floated six swords, the blades spread out like a pair of wings. In Remiel’s right hand was gripped a seventh, a thick bladed claymore. The seraph’s armor glinted in the light, golden etching and silver plates brilliant splendor. Pure white cloth fell beneath, a holy icon on a ruined stage.
“And what would you do if it was?” Asmodeus sounded, lips curled in amusement.
The Prince of Lust lingered on his throne, tiny wife in his lap. The booth in which the archduke had resided was gone, shattered by Remiel’s domain. Asmodeus, however, hadn’t budged an inch.
After enlightenment came the realm domain. The outward effect was obvious. Reach. Upon reaching externalization, a demon could extend their ki beyond their flesh forming an aura. With this, Sylvia’s fists could reach a meter-and-a-half further than they should. As the strength attribute rose, this distance would increase proportionately.
But even for an archangel, it wasn’t much. Accounting for distribution and traits, a seraph like Remiel would be limited to roughly ten meters. That was, unless, he was a domain realm grand master. In which case, the breadth of his reach would be multiplied by fifty.
A naga slithered through the air, drawing closer to the stage. The woman’s tail curled beneath her, an elegant dress draping over her human-shaped top. The serpentine archdemoness had four arms, one pair carrying a spear and shield. The other, a bow.
“And to think, they call you the Angel of Judgment,” the feminine voice teased. “All I’ve seen so far, is the lack.”
A few laughs were drawn from the crowd, a shaggy-haired man let loose a particularly loud guffaw.
Scores of nobles hung in the sky, their booths torn away from around them. Even among those in the public seating, there were many survivors. Some of those devils lingered, fascinated by the show. Lord Azazel was among them. The asura leaned against an untouched post, the wood laden with his ki.
Sylvia’s gaze swept over the group. Chanlina, Fumiko, Talyssa, and Mliss Phoung were where the asteri expected, the succubus having erected a magical shell. Belkis, though, had vanished, leaving Talyssa and Chanlina looking around for their missing prisoners.
She wasn’t worried. Between Anbaht and her Three-Faced Visage, Sylvia was hard to spot.
“I’m taking what I paid for,” Remiel said, staring straight at the prince. “Don’t try to stop me.”
Asmodeus smiled, obsidian eyes gazing back.
The shaggy-haired man stepped forward, taking silence as permission. The archdemon had a wild grin on his face and a pair of claws strapped to his thick arms.
A werewolf? Sylvia wasn’t sure. Wolves were hard to distinguish when in human form. Vampires were easier. The red eyes and pale skin were giveaways.
“And what happens if we do?” the shaggy-haired demon questioned.
Sylvia put the conversation aside for a moment, quickly scribbling a letter.
Keep your head down and make your way to the lower deck. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.
As for why she didn’t leave now? Well, her event log answered that question.
Reward: +5 pts – Analysis (domain): Remiel’s Azure Sky
Reward: +3 pts – Analysis (domain): Remiel’s Azure Sky
Reward: +2 pts – Analysis (domain): Remiel’s Azure Sky
Reward: +11 pts – Analysis (providence): Angel of Judgment
Reward: +3 pts – Analysis (domain): Remiel’s Azure Sky
Greed. Pure, unadulterated greed. The System was eager to study Remiel’s ki. Merit points were pouring in like rain. Sylvia licked her lips, practically bouncing on her toes. More. More. More. Let everything sink into chaos. If it did, she might get a chance to properly taste Remiel’s providence.
Or Azazel. Or maybe even that of Asmodeus.
Delicious.
Every god was a god of something. Beauty. War. Thievery. Wisdom. During Apotheosis, a soul would take into itself a part of the world. This fragment of existence would connect to a foundation set during Transcendence giving birth to a divine authority.
A providence was a kind of superpower, an ability unique to each archfaerie, archdemon and archangel. And this power was rarely fair. While traits were organs refined through millennia of evolution, a providence was an individual accumulation. How great its potential depended heavily on the wisdom of its creator.
The archangel gripped his claymore with both hands, thrusting the tip into Ignis Rosa’s deck.
“You heathens began by violating laws and treaties,” Remiel accused. “And now you block my path, aiding and abetting a thief. Criminals drenched in sin. How many souls have you murdered? How many women have you raped?”
With every word, Remiel’s aura grew. A soft light wrapped him like a shroud. Sylvia watched with excitement, her merit points zinging up by the score. Providences weren’t always suited for battle, but Remiel had been blessed with a power perfect for his position: Angel of Judgment. According to the books Sylvia had read, this power would enhance the seraph’s strength according to the crimes committed by his foes.
“What disgusting hypocrisy,” the naga sneered. “Who was the vandal who destroyed this venue? This isn’t your Heaven, angel. It is by our laws you should be judged.”
“I think I’ve endured your barbs and arrows long enough,” Remiel said, wrenching his blade back out. “And the starry void belongs to no one, you wretched snake.”
Elbow on his stone armrest, Asmodeus watched the proceedings. The archdemon’s fingers brushed gently through his wife’s blue hair. The little sprite happily cupped the core of a dream fruit in her lap, the rest already eaten. Sylvia could only glower in envy.
The rich were too different from the poor.
Remiel’s electric blue eyes swept the crowd. Most of the nobles laughed and jeered. A few quietly exchanged bets. Lord Azazel gazed in contemplation at his compass, one of his six hands stroking his chin. Taking in the sight, the seraph’s lips curled in disgust, realizing he’d been made part of the night’s entertainment.
“The Festival of Light is a celebration of peace. A day of virtue and kindness. A day in which all should think to become a better person,” Remiel said, his words cold fury. “And what do you do? You blasphemous mongrels twist it into a – ”
SCREEE-r-ACK! BOOM!
The deafening shriek made Sylvia jerk. The void lit with brilliant light. From a bulbous tumor on Turrim Amoris shot a cataclysmic beam of destruction. The closest celestial cruiser bucked, fire exploding out of a terrible rent ripped along the starboard hull. The burst of flame sent the hundred meter ship into a brutal spin.
Like most of the crowd, Sylvia stared, stunned by the sudden turn of events.
But not everyone was distracted.
Light flickered, not even a thousandth as bright as the beam before. The unexpected motion caught Sylvia’s eye. She turned. In that brief moment of inattention, Remiel had moved. Somehow, he floated behind the shaggy-haired man. His two-handed blade was like a whisper in the ringing silence, slicing through the archdemon’s neck as though it were butter.
The werewolf’s shocked face tumbled through the sky, shaggy hair fluttering.
But this wasn’t enough to kill a great demon much less an arch one. The werewolf’s decapitated body warped, fur bursting through skin. From his neck’s bloody stump emerged a new, ravenous snout. The elongating creature twisted in midair, a blur of motion.
“Honorl –,” the archwolf roared.
“■■■,” Remiel spoke, even as he flitted back.
Six hovering blades sparked with lightning. The wings of swords left floating over the stage went from stillness to motion in an instant. The werewolf barely had time to jerk before holes the size of fists were ripped through his massive chest.
“If this sacred day is to be stained…”
The seraph’s haunting words hung in the air even as his body evanesced.
Clang!
Remiel’s claymore cut through azure sky, seventy meters distant. The shocked naga twisted, barely catching the seraph’s sword with her brass shield. Rounded metal rung as though it were a gong. Though she staggered, the naga struck back. Her short spear flashed, her ki like a twisting snake as it slithered through Remiel’s azure sky. Droplets of poison followed in its wake, corroding the archangel’s domain.
But Remiel was already a fading image, his body swept away by the wind in a tenth of a second.
“… then let me cleanse it by purging your vile rot!”
Bzzt. Remiel’s flying swords crackled with light. They flashed, curved streaks carving up and down in great arcs. The archdemoness writhed, her body undulating. Two swords missed, slipping between serpentine coils. The naga raised her rounded shield, metal expanding into an umbrella by her aura. D-d-dink.
Three sparking swords were deflected, but the last blade curved in at an angle. With an electric shriek, it sliced through the lady’s shoulder. A severed arm flopped through the air, small shield in hand.
The seraph plunged down from the heavens.
“■■■ ■■■■!”
Blue sky transformed into a stormy whirl as Remiel fell. Lightning shot between dark clouds, jagged bolts gathering on the claymore’s tip. The archangel’s domain crashed down with him, his ki a titanic sword fifty meters in length.
The blade pierced straight through the naga’s chest.
B-b-bang! Lightning fell like rain, a serrated storm filling the archangel’s azure world. Brilliant streaks ripped through the crowd of nobles surrounding. The weak weren’t given a chance to react, their bodies instantly torn into bloody chunks.
The strong endured.
Far away, at the edge of the archangel’s domain, Sylvia cringed.
“Enough!” Asmodeus roared.
A domain of ash and fire smashed through Remiel’s storm-filled world. Lightning bolts splintered, crushed by the burning hell. Others pierced through, their paths and lines distorted. The archduke stood, enraged that the seraph dared to involve his audience.
On another corner stood Lord Azazel, four of his six arms raised as though holding up the cloudy sky. Four giant palms formed a sheltering awning. The asura had a domain of his own. A blood splattered night which fought against Remiel’s daylight.
The stormy sky cleared, returning to azure.
“Hotheaded brat,” Azazel sounded in irritation. “You should know this is a ploy by the Promethean Cults.”
Remiel’s eyes flashed, irises glowing with blue light.
The archangel’s life force was crushed between the auras of the asura and the prince.
Remiel and Azazel were C-XI/High, while Asmodeus’s cultivation was a single step lower. But the archangel’s power was split between warrior and magic, while the two archdemons were oriented toward strength. For this reason, their domains loomed over Remiel’s azure world, squeezing it so that the space was reduced to a third. It was only toward the archangel’s back that his distorted heaven bulged out to its full breadth.
“Take your soul and go,” Asmodeus commanded. He gestured, sending his latest wife floating toward his gathered harem. “This is the Festival of Light. A day of… peace.”
Remiel paid Archduke Asmodeus’s mocking words little attention. Instead, he glared at the asura.
“And I suppose you think Lucifer’s Cult hides in the suites of Turrim Amoris? Is that what your compass tells you? If so, why don’t you hunt them yourself?” Remiel scoffed.
The ghostly flames in Azazel’s eyes were furious. “Don’t start something you can’t stop, boy.”
“Don’t worry, old man, I came prepared,” Remiel said coolly. The archangel’s neon eyes swept the collected nobles. “I entered this ship in good faith. I endured disgrace when I paid for Jophiel’s soul. Since the devils of Hell will not accept Heaven’s kindness, then I will grant you Heaven’s wrath. All angels, obey my command! PURGE THE HERETICS!”
Head tilted back, Remiel roared, his voice like thunder.
Light glinted in the starry sky above. The celestial fleet opened fire, calamity cannons unleashing blazing beams of destruction. B-B-BOOM! Ignis Rosa shook, deck shuddering as devastating explosions wracked the skyship.
Turrim Amoris gleamed in response. Lines of energy streaked along its metal surface, huge volumes of ether breathed in by the giant petals. Bulbous structures on either side of the tower glowed.
SC-SC-SCREEE-r-A-A-ACK!
The shrieking, banshee wail was followed by sharp cracks. Lines of fire ripped across the astral world, smashing into distant ships. At the same time, a shroud fell over the starlit night. The fleet’s retort hit the magical barrier, sending ripples through watery space.
Slowly, the world began to tilt. The petals of the Ignis Rosa were closing. Decks transformed into outer layers of armor, protecting the precious core of the ship.
Everything had turned chaos.
As lines of fire pierced the starry void, the archangel vanished. Remiel appeared beside Jophiel’s urn, the crystal container still suspended in the seraph’s azure world. Pap! Two giant, spectral palms clapped together as though crushing a fly.
Bloody night spilled into the blue sky.
Remiel flashed back, weaving between a flurry of fists. Lord Azazel leapt forward, spectral arms a machine gun procession. “■■■.” Lightning sparked. The seraph’s flying swords became brilliant crescents, slashing through the asura’s projected fists.
Azazel lazily swung a hand. The world shivered. Suddenly, several of Remiel’s flying swords turned traitor, clashing with the others in a clanging mess. The asura reached the urn, his bloody night wrapping around it. Thick arms of dark flesh wrapped around the soul jar.
The providence of Lord Azazel was rebellion. Sylvia knew little more than that.
“Let me watch over this for you, brat,” Azazel laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll trade it back for a small fee of 5 billion soli.”
“Azazel!” Remiel howled angrily.
The angel, however, didn’t have the luxury of dealing with the asura.
The Prince of Lust had returned to his draconic form. From head to tail, the titan measured twenty meters in length. Asmodeus’s scales were fiery red. A crest of back horns grew from his head, with obsidian spikes running along his arms and back. A golden crown sat on his skull, while a torque wrapped around the thick serpentine neck.
The archdragon held one dark claw high.
Soaring in the ash-filled sky was a mighty echo of the beast’s fist, a colossal claw of lava measuring three hundred meters in length. With Asmodeus’s change, his domain had grown larger, his apocalyptic hell wrapping halfway around Remiel’s heaven.
Sylvia stared in shock.
She finally grasped why the ancients had called such men gods. When fundamental strength was multiplied by the mastery of ki, it was a terror to behold.
All at once, the claw of lava crashed down. The heated projection seemed to lag at first, only to pick up speed until it became a meteor.
Ah, sugar. The witch leapt back. With panicked hurry, Sylvia catalyzed void and space into realm.
“■■ ■■■!” Pop.
Realm skip exaggerated Sylvia’s retreat. Even with this greater distance, the asteri continued to skate on scattered petals.
BOO-oom-oom-oom.
A sea of molten stone smashed into the Ignis Rosa’s decks. A wave of fire rose in a sloshing crest, then the liquid earth washed over the terrain. The asteri wasn’t the only one who’d fled the area. The House of Silver had picked itself up, flying through one of the petal’s closing gaps. Many of the nobles were in retreat, knowing that in such a high scale battle they could become casualties in an instant.
“Don’t worry, I’ll cut three billion off the price in exchange for all the intelligence your Inquisition has gathered,” Azazel shouted.
The six-armed man spared his compass a glance. Azazel’s fanged face turned serious. Burning eyes turned up, the archdemon shot through the sky toward the celestial fleet.
As the flames cleared, Sylvia found Remiel far in the distance. The archangel floated over the downed cruiser. The broken ship had crashed onto Ignis Rosa’s deck, angels fleeing its hull like insects pouring from a corpse.
The prince sucked in a breath.
The world warped as though gazing through a mirage. Heat poured through Sylvia’s veins, carrying with it decadent desire. Fantasy played out in her mind. Fumiko pressing her against the couch, tongues tangling. The delicious sense of power when Emily stumbled after Sylvia had teased. Flashes of porn. Images of naked women.
Asmodeus’s providence, Lord of Lust.
The asteri stumbled. Desire pounded inside of her only to be stolen. The embers of lust were ripped from her flesh, leaving behind a numbed chill. Emotions twisted with the primordial elements of wind, earth, and fire. The archdragon’s chest swelled, the scales of his throat growing brighter.
His golden torque gleamed, intensifying the fire.
The beast’s maw opened. Asmodeus’s breath wasn’t so much a jet as a volcanic eruption. A pyroclastic plume exploded from his throat, black ash so heated it glowed with streaks of white crimson. Smoke and fire drowned the entire petal on which Remiel stood.
Golden light flashed, splitting the rolling darkness. Ash fell like snow onto a petrified apocalypse. The air wavered with impossible heat, black fire clinging to everything. Even Remiel’s azure world burned, the outer layer of the archangel’s domain a pitch black blaze.
Then, the fire sloughed off, revealing a shell of pure blue sky. At the center of it all stood an alabaster titan.
It was a nine-meter biped, the humanoid head having neither ears nor mouth. Instead, it was a rounded egg sporting seven eyes with four colors. Wings grew from the angelic figure’s back, the titan’s shape flanked by six floating swords. Each blade was five meters in length, dwarfing Remiel’s original array.
“You brought a titan onto my ship,” Asmodeus growled. Lifting his head, the archdemon howled. “All demons, heed my words, SLAUGHTER THE ANGELS!”
Whomph.
With the beat of his wings, the archdragon leapt into the sky. Surviving nobles and surrounding devils were left with a choice. Some summoned their weapons. Others turned and fled. Seeing how dangerous the situation had become, Sylvia jumped through a closing crack which divided the layers.
B-duum.
Just in time. Because only seconds later, the petals sealed.
The asteri was floating above a racetrack. Huge rings hung from the ceiling, providing paths for the flying beasts. Here and there, steel blades whirled. Not far away, a giant snake wrapped itself around a post. The creature’s eyes were fixed on Sylvia, a forked tongue slipping through its closed mouth.
The phantasm snapped out like a viper. Sylvia danced to her left.
“Races in the netherworld must be real exciting.”
Amused, the asteri let herself fall.
The second layer was in chaos. Giant bats and birds were flying around like crazy, handlers in fez hats chasing after them. Boom. B-boom. Sylvia could hear the ship shudder. The celestial fleet continued its barrage, beam weapons smashing into the Ignis Rosa’s outer armor.
The skyship’s barrier must’ve fallen. The witch could see a few cracks where the deck had splintered.
The ceiling was even worse.
Heavy bangs sounded as the titans exchanged blows. Some of the structural struts hung from the roof, snapped by the shock. Here and there could be seen rents, the domains of blue sky and fiery apocalypse bulging through the gaps. Broader, were the spots where the ceiling glowed with molten heat, the materials dripping down even as they evaporated into ether.
Sylvia was happy she wasn’t the poor schmuck who’d have to foot the bill when it came time for repairs.
… Wait a second. She was the poor schmuck! Those were her tax dollars!
Landing on a patch of grass near the tracks, the seething witch checked her mirror pad for Belkis’s response.
Little Sis,
I managed to slip away while Chanlina was distracted. I’m already on the lower deck. We can discuss the exact plan when we meet up.
Your beautiful sister,
Belkis von Vallenfelt
Irritation replaced by a smile, Sylvia catalyzed realm. “■■ ■■■.” Pop.
Sylvia reappeared above the battle layer. Here, the Ignis Rosa was more or less intact. The coliseum was almost untouched, the many stands shaken mildly. This was of no surprise. Remiel’s celestial fleet had been positioned above the skyship, meaning that the lower deck had been protected by the layers of petals above.
Even so, the pristine image felt strange. Not because everything was isolated from the violence, but rather because the Ignis Rosa was closed now. With the shifting of the interior, the terrain had become rounded. With gravity always pointing down, Sylvia had the odd sense she’d stepped from fantasy into science fiction.
The witch drifted down. After pinging her map, Sylvia found her sister.
Belkis stood near an arena entrance. Earlier tonight, Sylvia had watched the prisma fight her way through a gauntlet of fifty foes in this exact location.
“I almost didn’t recognize you like that,” Belkis said.
The dark-skinned witch stepped forward, iron eyes sweeping Sylvia from head to toe. The asteri glanced down at herself and saw Josephine’s yellow robes and flat chest. Ah yes, she’d transformed herself at the start of the excitement.
“That’d be the point,” Sylvia replied blandly. She paused in thought. “Should we gate out now or wait for later?”
Sooner was often better, but it did come with its own risks. Namely, if the Ignis Rosa’s outer wards were still intact, it might be impossible to pass through using realm magic. Also, the longer they held out, the more time they’d have to condense ether.
“I think we should leave now,” Belkis replied. “I don’t like how those women were crowding around you, little sis. I’m worried that if they get a good hold, they’ll never let go. But, you’re the one who’ll be doing all the work. I don’t even have enough mana left in me to open a gate.”
Belkis had burned through most of her tank in The Gauntlet and it hadn’t been long enough to recover. Sylvia had enough mana for two gates, when accounting for both of their weights. Eight, if the asteri had plenty of space and void ether on hand.
One of these days, she was going to buy a good chaos source. One of these days.
“At least you prepared some ether before I showed up,” Sylvia said. “And I agree. Let’s make ourselves scarce.”
Belkis shook her head. “It’s so weird to see that much expression on Josephine’s face.”
“It doesn’t suit her,” a cool voice said with honey sweet agreement.
Sylvia froze.
Marquise Talyssa was watching from Sylvia’s right, twin moons of crimson studying Sylvia’s brown-haired transformation. At some unknown point, the ravishing vampiress had emerged undetected from the shadows. The lady remained a delectable vision, her dress of black and lace leaving swathes of pale porcelain skin exposed.
The asteri felt a heady pulse of heat and desire. Asmodeus’s providence hung over the ship, amplifying lust and attraction. The witch wondered what would happen if she just stepped close and kissed Talyssa on the lips. Would the vampiress resist? Or would the marquise pick Sylvia up then slam her into a wall before having her way with her?
Shuddering, Sylvia took a step back while she calmed herself. This feeling was different than the one called in Naopte’s Villa. It was deep, natural. Not even her digitized soul disagreed with her exaggerated emotions. Sylvia took this as a warning. Most psychic magics influenced the physical mind.
Asmodeus’s providence ran deeper.
“Change back,” Talyssa ordered softly. “I want to see the real you.”
The vampiress stepped forward, one step bringing her within arm’s reach. Her voice had a wonderfully smooth and lusty tremble. Sylvia’s lips pressed. She could feel her crystal core trill. As bidden, she released the enchantment, clothes and bones twisting. The Three-Faced Visage she’d picked up in Yvonne’s shop used two aspects for its transformation: simulacrum and flesh.
Flesh affected the phantasmal body, directly warping its shape. Simulacrum, however, evoked a tangible illusion. What it wrought was both real and unreal. Thus, while Sylvia’s outward body had been transformed completely, her altered clothes and accessories were nothing more than a semblance.
This left considerable oddities. For instance, Sylvia had been left in a weird superposition where she was wearing her towering high-heeled shoes yet simultaneously walking in Josephine's flats.
Illusionary transformation could be sensed, given a keen eye or the right arts. Of course, seeing that her clothes were a simulacrum was not the same as seeing through her disguise. To do so would require piercing the illusionary veil.
And for such a task, causality and fate were the most suitable magics. Magics easily defeated by Anbaht.
“You are beautiful,” Talyssa breathed, brushing a silver strand from the asteri’s face. The vampiress’s head turned, giving a slow nod to the prisma. “You may go. She will stay.”
Sylvia grimaced, sparing a glance toward Belkis. The elemental witch wore an unhappy expression. Belkis was smart enough to put two-and-two together. Sylvia’s stacked magics made her hard to trace. Therefore, Marquise Talyssa had found them by following the dark-skinned girl instead.
“Lady Stea,” Belkis greeted with the expected curtsy. “Our apologies for the sudden disappearance, but my little sister and I must leave immediately. The current situation is far too dangerous, and we have pressing business in the Cloud Island Wilderness.”
Crimson eyes focused on Belkis.
“Don’t worry. I will bring her to the Prince’s Palace,” Talyssa refuted. “She’ll be safe there.”
Sylvia’s expression turned sick.
Decorum was both a sword and a shield. Manners were an armor worn by a lady, and expectations a knife piercing front or back. With Countess Chanlina, Belkis had navigated this tight rope to avoid any form of commitment.
Talyssa had ruthlessly cut through this path.
Manners were not a chain. Decorum could be broken. Sylvia could throw all politeness aside and start a fight. But it wasn’t a fight they could win. Talyssa was wearing some sort of anti-divination tool, so Sylvia didn’t know her true power. That said, it wasn’t hard to guess. As a marquise, there was a ninety percent chance Talyssa was a great vampire of the fifth consolidation.
“I won’t force you,” Talyssa said, reading the asteri’s expression. “Stay for ten years. If you wish to leave after, I will – ”
BANG!
The world washed with white. An eye searing pillar of lightning lanced through the ceiling before punching through the layer below. Displaced air turned into a shock-wave. Sylvia stumbled a half step because of the rushing gust. Her twin tails danced in the roaring wind, hand clamped over her dark, purple beret to better hold it in place.
A heavenly domain flooded through the ragged, molten gap. Air blurred. Suddenly, an alabaster titan floated in a sky of heavenly blue, no more than three hundred meters distant.
“Remiel!” a deep voice roared. “Get. Off. My. Ship!”
A titanic dragon plunged through the hole in chase, a blazing world of ash and fire following his wake. Dark wings caught the air with a gut-wrenching, whomp, instantly transferring vertical velocity into lateral.
Remiel dissolved into vapor. A burning, phantom of a claw ripped through the blue sky right after. Sharp talons tore the azure domain into smoldering strips. Disrupted, the seraph’s faded form was thrown back into reality.
Leaving him wide open when the archdragon crashed into the alabaster titan’s chest. Boom. The pair hit the ground in a tumble, tearing through any person or structure unfortunate enough to get in their way. With the archangel pinned beneath him, Asmodeus drew in a great breath.
“■■■,” Remiel spat.
Six blades of lightning split the apocalyptic sky. Asmodeus shifted in an instant, serpentine body bending into a ‘C’. The titanic dragon raised a wing, shielding his torso from the sudden onslaught. Metallic runes lit along the wing’s ridge, silver spreading across the dark, leathery surface.
The six streaks ricocheted, the sound eclipsed by the thunderous bang of their fall.
Electricity, however, crawled through the metal shield. A thousand tiny worms digging into the archdemon’s flesh. Asmodeus roared, body jerking under the cursed, elemental force.
Remiel used the distraction to slip free, body transforming into a wisp. Asmodeus’s tail whipped, only to be parried by the alabaster titan’s eight-meter claymore.
Yet, the blow had served to force Remiel back into the real. The dragon’s neck twisted, terrifying power glowing in its throat. Asmodeus’s mouth opened, ash and fire pouring out in a storm…
… right in Sylvia’s direction.
Pastel pink eyes went as wide as saucers. Desperately, the silver-haired witch drew on her mana knowing it was already too late. “■ – !”
Shadow wrapped around her as the first syllable slipped through her lips. A cold hand tugged Sylvia into a world of gray.
Black peeled away, leaving the asteri standing on a different segment of the skyship’s deck. Straight ahead and half-a-kilometer distant, a flood of fire and ash swept over the battle layer. The walls of the coliseum caved under the explosive force of Asmodeus’s breath. That which remained was devoured by the inferno that followed after, melting stone and dissolving essence cloaked by a bed of burning black.
The alabaster titan had escaped unscathed. With all seven eyes, Remiel gazed in the archdemon’s direction.
“■■■■ ■ ■■■.”
Bang!
Lightning crowned Remiel’s raised blade. The chaotic, jagged strands pierced straight through Ignis Rosa’s roof. An electric storm gripped the metal of the angel’s colossal claymore, forming an aura of brilliant ki one hundred meters in height.
“Foul beast, let me show you the price of greed and discourtesy,” Remiel intoned.
The archdragon looked on in horror. “Don’t you – ”
Bzztt-AP!
Remorseless, the seraph plunged his sword straight into the guts of Turrim Amoris. Lightning cascaded up and down the tower while energy exploded from the seams.
Sylvia winced. What a monster, Remiel had stabbed Asmodeus right in the money.
“I’LL BURN YOUR WHOLE FLEET!”
“An eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth,” Remiel roared back.
The seraph slowly raised his blade, cutting the molten wound wider. Howling, the archdragon threw himself through the sky. Remiel faded back, vanishing from one part of his azure domain to another.
“Shouldn’t you concern yourself with Jophiel!” Asmodeus roared, a flaming claw tearing off clumps of azure.
“Azazel is a right bastard, but he’d never harm an innocent soul,” Remiel spat in retort.
BOOM!
The ship shook. Remiel’s claymore flashed in the chaos, a blade of light carving through crimson scales. In the distance, Sylvia could see a group of mages casting spells and curses, Duchess Phoung and Countess Chanlina among them. Magics of law formed cages, trying to restrain the seraph.
The archangel’s flying swords danced in answer.
Crescents of crackling light flashed through the air, slicing through intangible magic. Others streaked across the ship, murdering any devil who drew too close. In response, strong parties took on the role of defense, beating back Remiel’s electric blades.
Sylvia’s eyes sharpened.
She’d almost missed it, but there was a second layer of magic. Chains of spells were being woven by the alabaster titan itself. At first, the asteri thought this was Remiel’s work. Then she realized there was another soul in the titan’s cockpit handling buffs, curses, and counter curses.
How interesting. Perhaps, this was the role of the blond angel Remiel had brought within him at the auction house. Sylvia had seen the man disappear before the cake hit the fan.
Reward: +1 pts – Analysis (domain): Remiel’s Sky
Reward: +4 pts – Analysis (providence): Angel of Judgment
Reward: +2 pts – Analysis (domain): Asmodeus’s Apocalypse
Reward: +2 pts – Analysis: Titan Tactics
Reward: +5 pts – Analysis (providence): Lord of Lust
“Talyssa, head up and help your sisters with the fleet,” a lady ordered.
The woman was a dark elf with yellow eyes and sleek, ebony skin. Instead of a dress, the elf wore tight white leathers, elegantly embroidered. A touch of lace and a flair around her hips offered a taste of femininity to complement the athletic beauty.
“Yes, Duchess Wacera,” Talyssa said softly.
The vampiress curtsied. Grasping the lady’s rank, Sylvia dipped, pinching the corners of her dress.
When she rose, Marquise Talyssa glanced in Sylvia’s direction, her pale face showing a hint of disappointment. Then the vampiress vanished in a swirl of shadow. Darkness dissolved behind her, the shroud’s fragments leaving a lingering impression of thorned vines and blossomed flowers.
The ebony elf gazed at Belkis and Sylvia with dangerous, yellow eyes.
“It would be best if I never saw either of you again.”
Without another word, the archduchess leapt into the sky. Sylvia watched her leave. They’d been ‘saved’ by a wife from another faction, though Lady Wacera probably saw it as shooing off competitive prospects. And she knew the dark elf was an archduchess because of the three dukes serving Asmodeus, only Mliss had yet to complete Apotheosis.
“We better leave,” Belkis hissed.
Sylvia didn’t need to be told twice.
“I’ll open the gate,” she replied, projecting her staff. Once the phantasm settled, the silver-haired girl drew a vertical circle in the air. “■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■.”
With a mere twelve syllables, Sylvia unleashed three hundred and ninety-five runes. The chain split into three strands. The longest were tied into a wreath while the last was bundled into a tight knot. Sylvia threw the ball through the wreath. This time, however, she didn’t strive to connect with a waygate. Instead, the asteri extended will and mana through the aperture, feeling around for a distant spot in the dark.
Whoosh.
Her gate sparked, forming a blue-green whirl. Sylvia grimaced as the magic sucked more than four hundred mana from her flesh. Belkis gave a short wave then stepped through. Voomp. Sylvia let the gate stabilize then followed. Voomp. The portal closed behind her, half of Sylvia’s pool consumed.
They were floating in a starlit world.
Remiel’s fleet loomed over Ignis Rosa, breakers at the fore. One of the mighty ships had been shattered, guns and defenses silent. Another showed a splintered hull, a flickering barrier the only defense. A sudden fist punched through the ship’s side, Azazel’s bloody battlefield pouring from the wound. A fierce fight was taking place in the ship’s interior.
Only one breaker retained full function. The heavy cannons poured steady destruction onto the Ignis Rosa, cruisers providing a halo of protection. Asmodeus’s ship had no retort, the central tower having lost all life. The giant pleasure boat was nothing but a quiet hulk that could endure.
The battle, however, was not over.
In the dark between these mighty vessels lingered demons and angels, their tiny figures difficult to distinguish from the twinkling stars. It was the weapons of the cruisers that served as illumination. Lightning cannons, bolts, and other magical weapons streaked across the black void. Further back, but still protected, were the ferries. Each of these precious vessels was guarded by hordes of phantasms and multiple layers of interlocking fire.
Yet, where Sylvia floated – fifteen kilometers from the Ignis Rosa – there was only silence. The astral sea was not space. Sylvia could easily hear her senior sister scream. Sound, though, traveled more poorly through the black than through a proper sky.
“Help me gather ether,” Sylvia said. She gestured, an arm of wind wrapping around the prisma’s waist. “I want to be much further from pursuers and the fight. We’ll send a call to the Utrecht later, so they can pick us up.”
“Sure thing, little sis,” Belkis agreed.
The silver-haired witch pushed off the void, a flower blooming beneath her feet. Several steps turned their slow drift into a smooth glide. Unlike true space – the frozen void, as the denizens of the nether called it – the starry void had light resistance. Thus, her maximum velocity was limited by drag.
Right now, Sylvia moved slower than that. To gather ether without a reservoir to store it, meant pulling a cloud of it along with them. So her speed was restricted by Belkis’s mystical grip. Belkis, because Sylvia had left the brute task of holding the purified ether to her sister. Instead, it was the asteri who split the chaos into streams of void and space.
Compared to the major planes, the astral world had thinner ether with the density being around ten percent. The mixture, however, was fifty times richer in chaos. The elements void, space, and causality were especially abundant. Realm, fate, and law could also be found in mere fractions.
This density greatly sped the process of collection, what’s more, it reduced the time and effort spent filtering the contents. Still, it was slow-going. Sylvia needed five minutes to gather a cloud thick enough for her desires.
The battle continued.
A line of electric light tore through the Ignis Rosa’s outer shell. A petal peeled from the colossal ship. Archangel and archdragon spilled out into the dark. Remiel retreated, his alabaster titan covered in cracks and chipped panels. Lord Azazel, sensing the seraph’s approach, quickly fled the broken breaker.
Asmodeus chased. The last breaker turned, brilliant beams of destruction shooting from its bow. The archdemon folded steel-plated wings in front of him. The explosive blasts were scattered by his shield, but they served well enough by halting his approach.
“Who do you think will win the fight?” Belkis asked. “Remiel or Asmodeus?”
“Everyone who’s watching the fireworks without having to pay for them,” Sylvia deadpanned.
Belkis laughed. Sylvia grinned. Another blue-green swirl opened.
Voomp. Voomp.
Suddenly, they were forty kilometers from the Ignis Rosa. The celestial fleet was even further away, maybe fifty or sixty kilometers distant. If they were anywhere but the starry void, the gap would’ve been greater. Alas, gate wasn’t made to pierce through chaos.
Flowers blossoming beneath her feet, Sylvia continued on her path.
“Aren’t we far enough already, little sis?” Belkis questioned.
Sylvia gave the prisma a dead-eyed look. Belkis wasn’t the woman Talyssa planned to imprison inside Asmodeus’s love nest. The silver-haired witch wanted to be a long, long way away from the Ignis Rosa. Otherwise, once the battle settled, the Sapphites might go hunting for them.
“We’ll keep making jumps until my mana pool is empty,” the asteri said ruthlessly. Her pastel pink eyes turned contemplative. “Before that, let’s glide twice as far. That way we’ll be harder to trace.”
She’d send a signal to the Utrecht as well. The ship had to leave port immediately. Otherwise, Sylvia might find Talyssa and Chanlina waiting there for her.
…
“Hey, little sis,” Belkis probed after an hour. “I’m bored. How about you call Emmy and put her on the big screen?”
Sylvia gave the elemental witch a look. Then she pulled Soldiers of the Mind out of her inventory and threw the book at her sister. Yeesh. Buy your own phone app. Ignoring Belkis’s glower, the silver-haired girl closed her eyes. In the dark she drifted, the opening theme of the Empire Strikes Back ringing in her ears.
-oOo-
Bestiary
Remiel
Species: Celestial
Lv: 3730
Hp/Mp: 14,835 + 3,850 / 13,940
Atk/Def: 4,424, 415 pierce / 690 (1050 ki)
Celerity: 879% (1,010%), awareness 592%
Dominion: 1750
Casting Speed: 60 runes (normal), 120 runes (sky and subsidiary elements)
Traits:
Heart of Divine Judgment, Advanced Elemental Palace: Sky, Sky Mysticism, Preternatural Grace, Swiftness II, Powerful Mana II, Clear Soul III, Unbreakable Will
Providence: Angel of Judgment
Asmodeus (True Dragon Form)
Species: Winged Dragon
Lv: 3400
Hp/Mp: 131,635 / 8,560;
Atk/Def: 17,551, 415 pierce / 1,600 (2,540 ki)
Celerity: 263%
Dominion: 600
Casting Speed: 55 runes
Traits:
Dragon God’s Heart, Advanced Dragon’s Breath : Calamity, Supreme Dragon Scales, Tough Hide III, Life Force III, Brutality II, Polymorph: Humanoid, Refined Mana
Providence: Lord of Lust
The Great Wars
The Utopia War
“Who was the betrayed, and who was the betrayer? I do not think this is an easy question to answer. Was it Zeus, who brought the Heavenly Tribulation? Was it Prometheus, who deceived so many into taking the Oath of Prosecution? Was it the tribes who abandoned Heaven? Or was it instead those who clung to the All Father’s tyranny, ignoring what had been lost?
I believe, in the end, we betrayed ourselves. In our arrogance, we thought ourselves gods. We were certain eternal paradise was not only possible, but inevitable. Yet, when hubris brought us to the fall, we were faced with an ugly truth. We are but bigger men. Mortals living longer with all the foibles of our origin.
There is but one god, and it is not us. Though many call me wise, I remain but an ordinary demon standing atop the arch of greatness.”
– ‘Archdemon’ Baal, First Emperor of Hell
The Utopia War was ignited a century after the advent of the Heavenly Will. When Lucifer revealed the truth of the Oath of Prosecution, Heaven initiated a campaign of suppression. Forced into a corner, many celestials fled to the tribal planes taking shelter against Zeus’s growing authority.
The tribes quickly called for secession. Enraged, Heaven raised an army, transforming this political schism into a civil war. To protect themselves against the onslaught, the various states unified under Emperor Baal – a highly respected figure from the Age of Blood.
Wracked by internal problems, Heaven’s efforts inevitably failed. The federalized government had been riddled by celestials who had taken the oath, and many of the core heavenly planes had provinces which rose in rebellion. Eventually, Zeus was removed from his position of All Father and Heaven turned inward to settle its internal divisions.
The dream of unification, however, lived on.
The Unification War
Better known in Hell as the Blood Crusade, the Unification War began five hundred years after Utopia War ended. Renewed and strengthened, Heaven set a goal of restoring the rebellious states. There were many motivations for this crusade: power, purity, and the golden dream. All of these were potent drivers of Heaven’s politics.
And there was never a better time for unification.
Near the middle of the Utopia War, Lord Baal had stepped down in favor of the Second Emperor of Hell, Lucifer. Unfortunately, the Third Piece was slain near the end. Without a leader and lacking the threat of Heaven, the nascent alliance quickly splintered leaving a divided mesh of tribal planes.
Heaven’s host smashed straight through their borders. What followed was a bloody, horrifying purge when Heaven slaughtered the souls of many of the major figures from the previous rebellion.
In a panic, the tribes sought to renew their alliance. However, with the planes already conquered they had no means but guerrilla warfare. To hold council in these times, the tribes formed a secret government – the dark parliament – with representatives from every group. This parliament, under the direction of the Archdemon Athena – formerly Goddess Athena – wrote a new constitution which would define the cohesive and stable state called Hell.
Due to her role, Athena was crowned the Third Emperor of Hell.
The Unification War, however, would drag on for half a millennium. Things only turned when the Fey Federation suddenly rose from the darkness, allying with Hell to fight off Heaven’s suppression. Victory, though, remained remote. That was until Heaven’s atrocities accumulated to such a degree that they evoked the Curse of Ruin. Faltering, Heaven was forced into retreat.
Hell and the Fey Federation were too weak to counter-attack. All they could do was lick their wounds and wait, the seeds of hatred growing in their hearts. Ragnarok had already been decided, and now all parties knew the importance of stockpiling karma if they wished to see their enemy destroyed forever.
Ragnarok
The third great war started a thousand years after the second. Hell launched a sudden, unprovoked assault on the major planes of Heaven, cutting a horrifying genocidal swath through the many cities and societies. Ragnarok would prove the most brutal of the three wars by far, with all three powers having huge reserves of karma.
Despite this, the war had no winner. Destruction was the real king. Yggdrasil would burn. The entire plane of Asgard would be shattered. Odin would meet his end. Hell and the Fey Federation would be wracked by losses no less than those of Heaven, leaving all the major powers crippled and disillusioned.
Having tasted this bitter fruit, the treaties that followed aimed for a lasting peace. Heaven agreed to withdraw the Heavenly Tribulation and revise their laws, so souls could enter other nations without having to take the Oath of Prosecution or submit themselves to the Law of Wood. In return, Hell and the Fey Federation established the ceremony of baptism, allowing souls to cleanse themselves of the Oath’s karmic obligation.
Ragnarok marked the end of the Divine Era. What followed was the Silent Age, a time of peace and hidden tension. The rules and treaties would hold, even through the War of Words which threatened to tear it all apart.
Comments
farichada
Flattery can be repeated. While I agree it would have been fun if Slyvia faltered more. What was at play was much stronger I believe than Napote's influence.
verified-patron
At last, we're free of the fucking harem. Christ, they were like leeches. Time to go back and put our acquisitions to work. Gotta love Sylvia being such a greedy little goblin. Even when she was about to get kidnapped by Talyssa, she was farming merit points. Why did Talyssa call her beautiful at the end? She had already seen Sylvia untransformed during the auction, no?
Steve Barbour
They do. Another great war is prevented mainly by a bunch of celestials, demons, and fey working together to prevent things from going out of control. A job made very frustrating by entities like Firestorm who are intentionally trying to make things escalate.
Steve Barbour
During the Silent Age the three powers fought the "War of Words" attempting to gain control over the 23 material worlds and thus the souls that are produced there. It's mentioned in chapter 8. -- "Two thousand five hundred years ago, the Divine Era was brought to an end by the third great war – Ragnarok. The Silver Age gave way to the Silent Age, a period of quiet that lingered between the three powers Heaven, Hell, and the Fey Federation. This developed into a cold war. The War of Words, they called it. The battlefield this time wasn’t the nether. It was the twenty-three material worlds from which all mortal souls were sourced. Heaven won. The Fey Federation broke even. Hell lost. In order to prevent the onset of a fourth great war, treaties were signed to ensure a certain number of souls would flow free. Yet, this wasn’t enough. The math was irrefutable. Hell didn’t have enough souls. Thus, it was doomed to watch its population grow slower than that of Heaven." -- It's called the War of Words because it involved diplomacy more than actual fighting.
Mr NerfGun
Hmm, the War of Words?
PreFX48
I wonder if such conflicts happen often. Or can it escalate into a full-blown war between heaven and hell? Like in the good ol’ days, you know
