The heavens trembled.
Above the scorched and sundered battlefield, the sky twisted into a maelstrom of shadows. The Black Moon had risen, a seething sphere of abyssal energy that consumed the light of the stars, devouring even the breath of the wind. The very fabric of reality wept beneath its weight.
Where once golden radiance reigned, darkness now ruled.
Kael stood at the center of it all.
He was motionless—yet the world bent around him. His coat, stitched from the threads of some unknowable void, whipped in the cursed winds that whispered forbidden truths. His presence stretched far beyond his body, an oppressive force that crushed faith, shattered morale, and drowned hope. Even the bravest knights, watching from afar, felt their limbs go numb.
And before him knelt the last bastion of the divine.
Gabriel, the Saint of the Radiant Order.
The ground around him cracked and sizzled as divine energy bled from his broken form. Once a paragon of celestial grace, his golden armor was now scorched and splintered. Cracks ran down his breastplate like bleeding wounds, and the light that once clung to him flickered like the dying embers of a once-mighty flame.
Gabriel planted the tip of his greatsword into the earth, using it to hold himself upright. His breaths came ragged, each inhale seared with pain.
"You think this… darkness will break me?" His voice trembled, but conviction clung to every syllable. "I have… been chosen by the heavens… I will not… fall here."
Kael didn't respond with words.
He vanished.
SLASH!
Blood sprayed in an elegant arc.
Gabriel staggered back, gasping, a deep crimson gash now slashed across his chestplate. He fell to one knee, clutching at the wound, pain flashing across his features.
Behind him, Kael stood—his blade glistening, blood still dripping from its edge.
"Chosen?" Kael echoed, his voice smooth, laced with mockery. "You can't even protect yourself."
Gabriel let out a battle cry and swung his greatsword in a desperate arc, aiming to cleave Kael in half.
Kael caught it.
With one hand.
The divine metal rang out as it clashed with Kael's palm—but the impact did nothing. Kael's fingers closed slowly, deliberately, around the blade's glowing edge. A dull groan echoed from the weapon as cracks split along its surface, as though the sword itself feared him.
"No…" Gabriel whispered. "That blade was forged from the fire of the sun itself…"
Kael's eyes narrowed.
CRACK!
With a single flex of his hand, the sword shattered—golden fragments disintegrating into ash before they even touched the ground.
A gasp echoed across the battlefield. The soldiers who had not yet fled—the acolytes, the paladins, the remnants of the Radiant Order—fell to their knees, their faith visibly crumbling.
Gabriel stumbled back, staring at the space where his blade had been. The sword that had carried him through a hundred holy wars, that had slain demons and banished nightmares, was gone.
"I…" he whispered. "I don't understand…"
Kael approached, each step echoing like a funeral bell. "Your gods lied to you, Gabriel. They gave you a title. A weapon. A cause. But they never gave you power."
Gabriel's eyes filled with desperation. "No… the heavens… they will not forsake me…"
He raised his hands, golden energy flaring to life once more. His wounds began to knit shut, and a blinding aura enveloped his body.
For a moment, it seemed as though the light might return.
Kael sighed.
He raised his left hand.
The Black Moon pulsed.
The golden aura around Gabriel faltered—then extinguished.
He screamed.
His body convulsed violently as invisible chains bound him, dragging him down. His divine essence was torn from his body like meat from bone, unraveling his soul in front of everyone's eyes.
"No! No, I will not—!"
THUD.
He fell.
Kneeling. Broken. Powerless.
The battlefield went silent.
A Saint had fallen.
Kael stood over him, gaze impassive. "The heavens never saved anyone," he murmured. "They just delay the inevitable."
Gabriel looked up, blood running down his chin, tears mixed with the dirt on his face. "Please… spare them… the others…"
Kael tilted his head. "Mercy? From me?"
He raised his sword.
"Goodbye, 'Chosen One.'"
Gabriel's eyes closed.
But the blade never landed.
CLANG!
A thunderous crash shook the battlefield as another blade intercepted Kael's strike. A second shockwave erupted, hurling debris in all directions.
Kael's expression didn't change—but his interest was unmistakable.
Standing between him and Gabriel was a woman clad in shimmering silver and violet armor. Her rapier trembled against Kael's black blade, yet she did not falter. Her eyes—deep violet and ancient—met his with calm defiance.
She radiated no divine presence. No holy aura.
But something far older stirred around her. A presence that made even the abyss hesitate.
Kael stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Now that's new."
She didn't blink. "I am Selene, Commander of the Veiled Order."
She glanced briefly at Gabriel, who lay unconscious at her feet. Then her gaze returned to Kael, steady and firm.
"And you will not have him."
Kael smiled.
A rare thing.
"Selene…" he repeated. "So you're the one who walks between the threads of fate."
He sheathed his blade. Not out of respect. Out of intrigue.
"You've piqued my curiosity."
Selene's stance remained rigid, unwavering. "This war is no longer just yours, Kael. The Veiled Ones have decided to intervene."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Even the shadows tremble at the Black Moon. Are you certain your little order is ready for what's coming?"
"We do not fear the abyss," she answered. "We remember what came before it."
For a heartbeat, Kael's smile froze.
Then he chuckled.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
A gust of wind swept across the field, and in the blink of an eye, Kael vanished—his laughter echoing like a haunting bell across the battlefield.
Selene exhaled slowly, lowering her sword.
Gabriel was alive.
But barely.
She turned, kneeling beside him. "You foolish man," she whispered, brushing hair from his face. "You were never meant to face him alone."
The battlefield was still, but the tension had not ended.
Far above, the Black Moon lingered.
Watching.
Waiting.
And the night was far from over.
To be continued...