IV | THE HEAVENLY RAGE

Ash rained from a raging heaven gripped with smoke, washing the ravaged landscape in shades of ruin. The cries of a tormented world echoed through fallen, charred forests, and the ground trembled with the pounding hooves of a centaur horde. Their bellows of rage echoed through the smoke-scarred ruins, a guttural fury aimed at the lone figure crouched amidst the inferno.

Aegis, bare-chested and pale against fiery, met hostile gazes with amusement. His eyes, twin pools of white, and in his hands, raw lightning screamed.

The first centaur charged, a behemoth upper body of fur and muscle wielding a jagged club.

Aegis was only a blur through the storm of hooves and blows. He twisted, dodged, and weaved, with a wave of his hands, a purple bolt of lightning erupted, searing through the air and splitting the charging centaur’s club in two. It stumbled, its bellow morphing into a pained shriek. Aegis touched the smoldering ground as he darted forward. He spun, lightning trailing like a comet’s tail, and slammed a thunderous fist into the centaur’s chest. Impact sent the creature crashing back, its massive form crumpling into a heap of broken bones and fur.

The remaining centaurs, their fury amplified by the fallen, surged.

Each bolt singed flesh, cracked bones, and sent screams of agony ripping through the air.

Fallen trees ignited into pyres, sending plumes of ash spiraling. The air crackled with searing heat, and the smell of burnt fur clinging heavily.

Another centaur, a hulking beast with a mane of fire, aimed a rock the size of a tree trunk. The club whistled through empty air. He reappeared behind the beast, a bolt of raw power lancing from his finger. The centaur crumpled, smoke curling from its singed hide.

One by one, the centaurs fell. Some were trampled by their own kin, others felled by Aegis. The battlefield became a graveyard of smoldering bodies.

He dove under a scythe-horn and spun away from a bone-crushing mace, his laughter flickering in the smoke. Lightning cleaved, sparking screams. He twisted through the fray; a centaur lunged, hooves raking, and met only empty air.

Snow, a white streak against the ash, swooped down, her hooves hammering a centaur’s back, sending it stumbling. Aegis leaped onto her flank, lightning lancing the beast’s spine.

He leaped from her back, a bolt splitting a forearm, then rolled beneath a club. He erupted from the dust, a fist of crackling purple slamming into a centaur’s jaw. The creature spun, its horns grazing Snow’s wing, but she banked, a feathered blur, and smashed it across the face with her hooves.

Centaurs fell like burnt trees, their cries swallowed by the roar of infernal chaos.

Aegis, breathing heavily and chest heaving.

One, scarred and cunning, aimed a scythe-horn with malicious precision. Aegis, a fraction of a second too slow, felt the laceration across half his stomach.

That was all the opening the centaur needed. A bone-crushing mace swung in a vicious arc, aiming for his skull. Aegis leaned his torso sideways, the mace whistling past his ear, grazing his hair that now tumbled over his eyes.

Aegis roared, a primal sound that mimicked the crackling thunder in his veins. His scream ripped through, a challenge to the very heavens.

RAIN DOWN HELL

And the heavens answered.

Lightning rained down, storm unleashed by a mortal’s fury.

Aegis stood, arms outstretched.

His hands, still crackling with death, snapped up, palms calling for the descending bolt.

A split second, the world held its breath. Then, with a thunderous crack, Aegis redirected the lightning. It tore upwards, splitting the sky like a jagged blade, searing a path through the clouds.

Aegis’s stomach burned like a smoldering coal pit, but the pain only fueled his fury. He roared again, the guttural sound splitting the ash-choked air, and threw his hands skyward. Lightning coiled around his arms, a living serpent seeking release.

The subdued bolts forked, weaving through.

The heavens cracked open, leaving a scar in the sky. A figure emerged, riding a griffin with wings of obsidian and eyes like molten gold. The rider, clad in hooded armor of silver and a wide-guarded belt of thorns, wielding a spear of crackling energy, met Aegis’s defiant gaze with a cold sneer.

“Lightning-wielder,” the figure boomed, voice echoing across the battlefield. “Hand over the silver dagger.”

He leaped onto Snow’s back, the pegasus a blur of silver against the blackened sky. Her wings beat against the wind, propelling them towards the griffin. Aegis, lightning coursing through his veins, raised his hands.

Bolts lanced out, forked tendrils of purple that arced towards the griffin.

As swift as a viper, he deflected them with his spear, the golden flame energy sparking off the obsidian blade.

Aegis laughed, a wild, untamed sound.

He launched himself, a bolt of purple crackle spearing toward the griffin’s chest. The rider deflected it with a flick of his spear.

He retaliated, the spear a blur of gold, aiming for Snow’s heart.

Aegis twisted Snow off-course, the fiery spear whistling past her wingtip. He slammed a fist into the griffin’s side. The beast screeched, feathers scattering like embers, but the blow barely fazed it.

The spear grazed his shoulder, searing flesh, but Aegis barely flinched. He spun, a bolt of crimson crackling from his palm, and slammed it into the griffin’s eye. The beast screeched, blinded, its obsidian wings faltering.

He coiled lightning around his fist, a purple orb forming in his grasp. He launched himself, a meteor of crackling fury, straight for the griffin’s chest.

A spear of a shimmering comet met him head-on. The impact detonated in a blinding flash, sending combatants hurtling through the air. The griffin lay broken nearby, its obsidian wings still twitching.

Aegis tasted blood and felt his ribs creak as he slammed onto the scorched earth.

He saw the dust settle, revealing the figure in silver-horned hooded armor rising from the rubble, his spear humming with golden flame.

Gigantic golems, half the size of mountains, crafted from shimmering white gold, rose from the ground, their eyes burning with molten light.

Aegis laughed. “A god contract?” he choked out, lightning spear already crackling in his hands. “No wonder you were confident alone, did you kill the rest?”

Though he asked, he already knew.

The figure narrowed his eyes, the spear tip spitting embers.

With a wave of his hands forward, the golems surged forward, a tide of muscle.

Snow reared beside him, wings beating urgently. Aegis leaped onto her back, her powerful strides carrying them toward the approaching golems. He raised his hands, palms outstretched to the heavens.

The golems lumbered forward, their movements slow but inexorable. Aegis tore their ranks, lightning-wreathed hands against their metallic bodies, leaving behind smoldering cracks and dents.

But for each one he felled, two more roses from the scorched earth.

Aegis spun, dodging a swipe from another golem’s massive fist. He landed on its shoulder, his feet barely touching the burning metal. He raised his hand, summoning another bolt, and aimed it at the golem’s neck.

The Impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield. The golem stumbled, its head wobbling precariously, then finally toppled with a deafening clang. Aegis landed on the smoldering ground, his breath coming in ragged. He was battered, bruised, and bleeding.

He unleashed a torrent of lightning, showering purple whips through the lumbering golems. Each arc left a sizzling scar, rending everything under fury.

But the armored figure, cloaked in shadows atop a golem, remained untouched. His spear, ablaze with malevolent gold, spat flames that swallowed entire swaths of forest, licking at the edges of Aegis’s vision. With a desperate twist, Snow dodged a wall of fire, the searing heat singeing her feathers.

Aegis hurled himself with a fist at the nearest golem, tearing through its metallic hide. Snow soared low as a beast bellowed, its molten eyes fixing on her, but Aegis, slammed a fist into its chest, shattering its core with a thunderclap.

The spear unleashed a volley of searing flames. The inferno engulfed him.

As the ashes subsided, a silence heavier than smoke settled over the ravaged battlefield. The figure clad in broken armor scanned the expanse, but Aegis and Snow were gone. They vanished as abruptly as the storm that had raged around them.

His fists clenched, his spear spits of humming residual flame. He raised his gaze to the ashen sky, where the twin moons struggled to break through.

Aegis and Snow soar through the sky, the wind whipping at their faces. Though Aegis’s wounds, courtesy of moonlight magic, have vanished, the raw exhaustion that gnaws at him is fading. Only Snow, her feathers ruffled and singed, truly has his concern.

Undying, truly miraculous.

His essence pool was recovering insanely; he could be sprawled on the ground, be vulnerable to infection, but the moon’s gentle touch has rewritten all wounds into nothing.

“God contractor?” Aegis questions. He knows of the Hazel Household’s stance against such pacts; their founder is a disciple of the famed Eldred, who believes in humanity’s strength, unbound by divine strings.

“Back in Hazel House, gods were taboo,” he murmurs. “Eldred believes in humanity’s own strength. But now, a god contractor under its whims? ”

Hazel House wants to reclaim the dagger, but they are after the dagger too.

A shiver of premonition runs down his spine—the scent of upheaval!

Deep within the forbidden, there existed an artifact known as “The Human Crystal.”

The crystal, when held by a mortal, had the extraordinary ability to resonate with the unique soul of its bearer. As a person touched the crystal, their essence encapsulated within the sphere, creating a mesmerizing, living portrait of one’s inner self.

In a resplendent hall with six thrones carved in gold and red, a short and playful figure arrived, long black hair, clad in a black suit that gripped her tightly. With a mischievous grin, she inquired of her sister Rochiel, “What’s the purpose for this assembly, sister Rochiel? Heheheh, is there a man you fancy?” The teasing was abruptly halted as Rochiel delivered a swift knuckle to the head.

“Sister, stop joking around. We have a new family!” Rochiel declared, young, hair of the sky, donning a white minty cloaked dress with black flowers.

Another figure draped in a black hood arrived and grumbled, “I was in the middle of tracking the cursed book; sigh, still no clues though—”

“So! Who is going to be this new sister of ours?”

Rochiel exclaimed, “Tada!!!” unveiling a cloaked figure of a little girl with blue skin, four eyes, and each eye having two pupils. “Isn’t she cute?” Rochiel cooed, pinching and biting the girl’s cheeks.

The short figure, Anzie, joined in, kneading the cheeks, and asked, “Yeah! What is your name?”

Rochiel, looking at the blue-skinned girl, smiled. “She doesn’t know how to speak, but I named her Herain!”

“What?! Isn’t that the name of your cat?” Anzie exclaimed. Her cat, though she had never felt any affection for the beast. It was a small, black thing, with a tuft of white fur on its chest and a pair of yellow eyes that glared at her with contempt. It would not let her touch it, nor come near it, nor feed it anything but the finest meat. It was a sassy creature, with a cuteness that made her want to hug and squish it, but she knew better than to try. She was not mad, but she could have sworn that its face bore a look that said: What? Do you want to die? Get out!

“It’s Herain! Not Herin!” Rochiel retorted in irritation.

The hooded woman scolded, “Sister, we can’t just let anyone be our family.” She felt a weary sigh escape her lips. She was exhausted, was she not? And these two little whelps did not make it any easier. She’d been the one holding a broom when they were always running around, causing mischief, asking questions. Well, at least they did not have to bear the burdens of grown-ups, and could still find joy in their childish games.

“But sister, look how cute she is!” Anzie pleaded with wide eyes.

“Right! Besides, she’s alone. She doesn’t have anyone left to look after her anymore!”

“She’s a Melodian from the North?” the hooded woman inquired, crouching to check upon the little girl. “She’s cold, sealed perhaps?” She grumpily pushed Anzie away from kneading the girl’s face.

Anzie, giving her a glare, then had a realization. “A northern Melodian? As in that Melodian race that was annihilated by a giant rift?”

Rochiel confirmed, “Right! When I was searching for the cursed book in the northern realms, I happened to stumble upon a lab with a sealing crystal and found her inside!”

“So, can we have her as the seventh sister?” Anzie pleaded with the cloaked one.

“Ask mother, not me.” She knew that their mother still grieved for her, for she had been her favorite child. She could not forget the look in her eyes, the day she died. They were full of sorrow, and anger, and love.

“Help us convince her; you’re the only one our mother actually listens to,” Anzie said.

“Maybe because you both act immature,”

“We’re still young. You can’t expect us to act old!”

Under a clear sky, the wind, feeling mischievous, plucked a leaf from a tree and sent it on a one-way trip to the city. The leaf tumbled through the air, narrowly avoiding a sparrow’s dive-bomb attack, until it met its unfortunate demise—smacked square in the face by a rogue skewered pork chunk. The impact sent the pork spinning like a lopsided top, scattering a line of ants who were having a particularly lively conga.

Thud, thud, thud. Heavy boots marched across the plaza, each step punctuated by the clink of metal against metal. Aegis, atop Snow, shrouded in heavy armor, his face hidden under a wide bamboo hat, seemed oblivious to the chaos he was causing. His eerie white eyes, glimpsed occasionally through the brim, stared straight ahead.

In a state of uncertainty, Aegis found himself at a loss, unsure of the next steps to take as both he and Snow had been chased everywhere.

He popped a piece of the skewered pork into his mouth, his brow furrowing like a thundercloud. The moment of chewing was filled with an agonizing silence, broken only by the nervous chirping of a sparrow perched on a nearby lamppost. Aegis grimaced, the pork hitting the ground with a plop that sounded suspiciously like a tiny meteor landing.

“Terrible,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down the sparrow’s tiny spine. “This is not cooked.”

Aegis wondered, What the hell are these supposedly famous local city foods? They don’t even bother to cook it. How do people like this?

He spat out another piece, this time aiming for a nearby drifting rag. Unfortunately, his aim was as rusty as his armor, and the pork chunk hit a startled old lady square in the purse. She let out a sound that could rival a griffin screech.

Another rogue pork chunk hit the purse with a sickening splat, instantly fossilizing it on the startled old lady’s arm. She stared at the rock-solid purse, then at Aegis, then back at the purse, mouth agape, in a silent scream.

Snow snorted a laugh.

Aegis shrugged, the movement echoing like metal chimes in his heavy armor. “I am disaster; everything gravitates to me like bees to pollen.” He popped another piece of pork in his mouth, chewed with the enthusiasm of a squirrel trying to crack a walnut with its bare teeth, and grimaced, thinking about the fortune he had spent.

As both crossed a canal bridge, the surrounding area buzzed with murmurs in a language that sounded like pebbles tumbling down a waterfall.

Aegis and Snow. After days and nights of dodging gargantuan flying monstrousities and navigating the vast treacherous wilds of the beastfolk territories, they were back in civilization.

They hadn’t used the human routes, oh no. That was far too predictable. So, they’d blazed a trail through the northeast of Delago to the vast wild lands, emerging on the eastern side of Balkan looking like they’d rolled in a dumpster.

I smell terrible.

Bearing a faint whiff and charred beasts, they ambled into the heart of the plaza. The scent of sweat and sizzling street food choked the air, adding a whole new layer to the chaos.

On a podium bathed in sunlight, a pompous Marquis with more feathers in his hat than an angry peacock preened beside a stern-faced woman in crimson.

From the words of a knowledgeable man with stenching armpits beside him. Apparently, pirates had gotten frisky, snatching one of their fancy new clockwork-powered ships. A portrait of the culprit graced the stage, a pale-skinned nightmare with black hair like spilled ink and eyes that stole both moonlight.

How did they know how I looked? Captives were imprisoned and guarded by sorcerers under a vow.

Golden Faith’s words spread fast. Looking at the crest with the symbol of a golden eagle.

Then, Aegis’s stomach lurched like a ship caught in a sudden maelstrom. Two treasures were left buried under a random tree in a harbor.

“Snow! We’re going back!”

No time for the usual caution; no time for detours. They needed speed and efficiency. The fastest routes, for all their predictability, offered the fastest passage back to Delago.

Snow, a silver streak against the darkening sky.

Delago rose before them, but before they could plunge into the heart of the wilderness, they needed to pass the guarded lands everywhere, scrutiny awaiting every traveler.

Snow dipped into a hidden grove. Mud cloaked her natural white fur, transforming it into a dappled brown. Horse armor, scavenged from fallen foes, concealed her majestic wings. Aegis, too, underwent a transformation; his teeth were nonexistent, his skin was burnt, and his white eyes were concealed with a beating that deformed his face beyond recognition.

Aegis and Snow, disguised and weary, navigated the checkpoints. Each stop was tense, with fabricated stories and feigned injuries, Snow’s borrowed horse armor clinking subtly beneath the muddied hide, and Aegis’s swollen eye concealed under a bandage. Time bled into one another, marked by barked orders, suspicious glances, and the fear of recognition.

Finally, they stepped onto the familiar, salty kiss of the harbor breeze. The small port town bustled with the usual morning chaos.

Aegis led Snow down a narrow alley, sunlight spilling through gaps in peeling wooden buildings. The air thickened with the scent of sawdust, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of a woodcarver’s chisel echoing from within.

He pushed open a creaking door, stepping into a courtyard overflowing with half-finished sculptures. In the center, amidst a tangle of wood shavings and discarded tools, stood a wizened man with hands gnarled like ancient roots.

His hand aimed a bolt straight for the woodcarver’s chest. The man, eyes wide with shock, froze mid-motion, the chisel clattering to the floor like a petrified teardrop.

Aegis didn’t hesitate. He lunged. He shoved aside a pile of discarded wood, his fingers digging into the damp earth. Beneath the gnarled roots, his touch met cold.

He pulled, muscles straining, until a menacing spear with four black tips emerged from the darkness. Its black shaft, etched with a swirling golden serpent dragon.

Next, his fingers brushed against something smooth and curved. He unearthed a majestic red bow, surface catching the slivers of sunlight.

He tied both weapons to Snow, knowledgeable eyes are everywhere in these lands.

The bow of the Sun Gazer was said to be forged beneath the sun’s blessing and bathed in ritual for a thousand Red Flower cycles.

The Nazunos, fanatic worshippers of the fiery sun god, held this as a sacred relic, wielded solely by their mightiest, the Five Hands. Each hand represented a tenet of their scorching faith, their souls becoming conduits for Nazunos’ wrath. And this, the bow of the Third Hand, had been lost for generations, silenced by the unknown.

Aegis and Snow, in disguise, shuffled towards the colossal cavernous rock formation. The wooden platform swayed precariously under their combined weight. Heavy black cloth, patched, shrouded the entrance. Two crewmates were clad in fashioned clothing, one armed with a sword as thick as a man’s arm and the other barehanded. Their faces, weathered to the texture of sun-baked clay, creased with suspicion at Aegis’s approach. This wasn’t the youth, white-eyed captain they knew; this was… a conglamoration.

His burnt face was devoid of teeth, one eye swollen and one obscured by a bandage. Mud, caked thick and dry, masked Snow’s majestic form.