Space around Zenhald began to warp. Darkness seeped into the air; the stones in the cave trembled. Zenhald’s face could hardly be called human—there was a god’s insanity frozen into it. As if limitless power sat in his hands.
Zenhald turned toward the dragon with a mad smile. The beast’s amber eyes widened, its vertical pupils narrowing to thin threads.
(These are rough images that make it easier to picture the scene.
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In the silence that fell for a heartbeat, a heavy, rhythmic sound rang out—the dragon’s heart started pounding so violently its thunderous beat echoed through the entire cave. He understood at once: the real danger wasn’t Fanuil.
It was me.
With his massive paw, the dragon grabbed the others and teleported away instantly.
I turned my gaze back to Fanuil.
I took a step. The sole of my boot came down on the stone—and it, unable to bear the monstrous pressure, burst into gravel. Snakes of cracks shot out from under my foot, biting into the rock.
“You…” The Archangel’s voice broke, but he tried to reclaim his grandeur. “You think I—the messenger of GOD—will fear a pathetic mortal? Your presence is only a shadow that will vanish before the light of heaven.”
I kept coming. Another step—and the cracks from the floor leapt to the walls, climbing toward the ceiling like black lightning.
Fanuil flinched. Fear showed in his eyes, but pride and rage clung spasmodically to the last scraps of arrogance on his face. His wings, spread a second ago in a majestic gesture, now trembled—just barely. He stepped back—only half a step, without realizing. But that tiny retreat screamed louder than any threat.
Even the sunlight at the cave entrance couldn’t withstand this pressure: it began to dim and flicker in ragged pulses, like a candle flame about to die.
Fanuil screamed, and an unbroken, blinding stream of pure light erupted from his palms. It was an endless river of radiance—enough to replace the sun over an entire country. He poured everything into that beam, never pausing the attack for a second.
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But the closer that divine light came to me—forcing its way into the zone of my darkness—the faster it lost its brilliance.
The bright, unbearable glare dulled at a terrifying speed, turning first into gray twilight, then into nothing. My darkness didn’t block it.
It simply devoured it—making that great light die out without leaving even a shadow.
I walked through the dying light and laughed.
One more step—and I was face to face with him, so close I could see my reflection in his pupils blown wide with terror.
BAM.
My fist slammed into his body with a crunch—the sound of ribs breaking and divine armor turning to dust. The удар was so monstrously heavy that the Archangel’s face twisted in pain, and his body folded in half at the point of impact.
A shockwave blasted outward in a ring, smashing walls and tearing the mountain apart from the inside. Fanuil was literally ripped from his position—his body became a blurred smear that shot away like a cannon round.
I surged after him into the air, catching his limp body in free fall. My hand snapped forward; I grabbed him by the throat with the grip of a wolf clamping onto the windpipe of cornered prey.
I tightened my fingers, feeling his fear pulsing, and slammed to a stop midair, making him hang in my hand.
He dangled there, his body swaying like dead weight. There was only despair in his eyes. I held him at arm’s length and stared at him with a wide, insane smile.
When I spoke, the space around us vibrated. My voice wasn’t loud, but it filled everything—low and warped, like the hum before a catastrophe. There was dreadful, inhuman amusement in it:
“Where’s your God now?”
My grip kept tightening, slow and inevitable. A crunch sounded—cartilage and vessels in his neck giving way. Thick blood burst from the Archangel’s mouth in spasms, flooding his chin and my hand.
His eyes rolled back. He choked, convulsively trying to inhale, and through a wet, bloody cough he forced out a pathetic, bubbling rasp:
“B-b-brother… s-save me…”
One more instant. A sharp jerk—and the wet sound of tearing flesh put the final period on it. The Archangel’s head separated from his shoulders. The headless body and the severed head fell together into the abyss below.
I didn’t care.
While the carcass fell, I tore out what mattered most.
His essence.
In my hand, a blinding core pulsed. I crushed it, devouring the energy, and threw my head back. Wild, mad laughter tore out of my chest, shaking the air:
“AH-HA-HA-HA! YES! I FEEL IT!”
This wasn’t just mana refilling. It felt like molten gold being poured straight into my veins. The Archangel’s light—arrogant, scorching—tried to resist inside me, tried to burn my darkness out from within.
Idiot.
Even dead, his essence kept fighting.
But my Abyss was hungry.
I felt the darkness inside me pounce on that чужой light, ripping it apart, digesting it, bending it to itself. My muscles swelled; for a moment my skin darkened, hardening like dragon scale. Every cell in my body vibrated from an overload of power. It was a drug—pure, perfect—something that made you want to scream.
The cave answered my transformation with a groan. The stones around me began to melt, turning into glass, unable to endure the heat of my new aura. The air became dense and heavy, soaked in the stink of ozone and sulfur.
I lowered my hands slowly, staring at my palms. Black and golden lightning crawled over them.
“Weakling…” I exhaled, kicking Fanuil’s severed head that had rolled to my feet. In his dead eyes, that same terror was still frozen. “Your ‘divine light’ was only enough to become my breakfast.”
I clenched my fist, and the space around it cracked with a ringing sound—like thin ice.
I NEED MORE.
