Golden fire erupted from Kael's palms—no longer merely absorbed energy but a scorching wave that tore through the air—meeting Vareth's flaming blade in a cataclysmic clash. The impact produced a deafening boom that shook the cathedral's nave, shattering stained-glass windows and reducing the solemn silence to vibrating shards. Sulfur and ozone stung the air, mingling with the scent of melting beeswax and fractured stone.
Vareth staggered backward, his sword humming with unstable energy. His gilded mask now spiderwebbed with cracks resembled a face frozen in agony, while the relic embedded in his throat pulsed erratically, flooding his veins with desperate holy power. One eye hollow as a corpse's, the other wild with fanaticism, he stared at Kael with pure revulsion. "Heretic!" The word tore from his raw throat. "You defile Divine Law itself!"
Kael remained silent, overwhelmed by sensory torrents. The cathedral's massive walls that once muffled the city's noise now felt thin as parchment to his heightened awareness. He could count every frantic heartbeat in the congregation—each thrum a drumbeat of blind devotion. He tasted the choir acolytes' terror as their hymn died mid-note, their perfect harmonies dissolving into discordant panic.
And beneath it all... something stirred.
From the crypts far below came a primordial pulse, its hunger resonating with the void in Kael's chest. The call vibrated through his bones like a plucked harp string.
Lilith's shadow writhed beside him, elongating and contracting like living smoke. "Stop dawdling, thief," she hissed. "This spectacle is meaningless."
The golden child—now restored to his true form with metallic skin and miniature suns for eyes—laughed with crystalline malice. The sound resembled shattering stained glass, each note embedding itself in Kael's marrow. "Mortals never evolve," he mused, pointing a slender finger at Vareth. "Always sacrificing pawns against inevitability."
With a roar, Vareth charged again, his blade trailing holy fire. Kael didn't evade. He stepped into the flames, letting them consume his tattered robes while leaving his golden-tinged flesh untouched. The divine fire that once scarred him now washed over him like harmless light.
He extended his hand—not to attack, but to understand. Golden filaments unfurled from his fingertips, weaving through Vareth's sanctified aura without piercing flesh. The Inquisitor's essence flooded Kael's consciousness:
—The transcendent glow of his ordination ceremony
—Agony watching his brother dismembered by heretics
—The icy conviction that any cruelty was justified to purge chaos
—And beneath it all... crushing isolation. The unbearable weight of being the righteous hand.
Kael let the emotions flow through him, distilling their truth without consuming them as he had in Hollow's End. This communion demanded more—left him emptier.
Vareth's sword sputtered. His surviving eye widened in horrified realization. "You're... not draining me," he gasped. "You're feeling me."
"He sees your truth behind the mask," Lilith sneered, claws flexing hungrily. "The rot beneath your gilded piety."
As Kael processed Vareth's essence, another presence made itself known—a slow, monstrous heartbeat thundering through the cathedral's foundations. The False God's pulse. He sensed its nature now: the source of the Church's obsession with control, its hatred of unbounded love. A frigid, merciless power.
Kael withdrew, releasing a shockwave that sent Vareth crashing to his knees. The Inquisitor's mask split further, barely clinging to his ravaged face, but his soul remained intact—Kael had chosen revelation over consumption.
"This was never about faith," Kael intoned, his voice resonating with newfound depth. "Only chains woven from lies."
A thunder of armored boots interrupted. Dozens more Inquisitors stormed the nave, poleaxes gleaming beneath holy sigils. Among them—
"Kael!"
Seraphine stood resplendent in silver armor, light-blade already ignited. Her ice-blue eyes burned with conflicted determination. Flanking her, two senior Inquisitors radiated authority.
Kael sensed the fracture within her—the seed of doubt he'd planted in Hollow's End now grown into a splintering rift. Memories flashed between them: the village's pyres, her trembling hands, the first cracks in her conviction.
The golden child clapped with delight. "At last! Your first concubine arrives!"
"Silence, Progenitor," Lilith snapped before turning to Kael with a predator's grin. "Decide, thief. Slaughter or seduction?"
Kael studied Seraphine—the tremors in her loyalty, the untapped emotions swirling beneath her discipline. Behind him, the obsidian throne's whispers shifted from demand to invitation, offering dominion rather than mere absorption.
The choir erupted into dissonance. Some acolytes screamed while others mechanically chanted broken hymns, creating a nightmare cacophony.
Vareth, still kneeling, gazed up with terrified awe. "He's... the key," he rasped through his crumbling mask. "The First Sin... awaits his touch."
Ignoring them, Kael extended his hand. "Seraphine." His voice carried unnatural command. "Stand with me."
The surrounding Inquisitors recoiled. "Possessed!" a captain roared, raising his sword. "Purge the abomination!"
Seraphine's gaze darted between Kael's golden radiance and her brethren's fanatical faces. Years of indoctrination warred with the truth blossoming inside her—
"Choose," Lilith murmured like shifting ashes. "Their lies... or your liberation."
Kael didn't compel. He simply shone. Golden energy caressed Seraphine's heart, amplifying her doubts until they drowned out doctrine.
Her light-blade flickered. A strangled sound escaped her throat—then she spun and impaled the attacking captain.
Silence.
Blood pooled on marble as the other Inquisitors gaped at their fallen commander. The ultimate heresy: a holy warrior turning against her own.
Seraphine stared at her bloodied hands. "I don't... understand..."
The golden child giggled. "She will! The Law of Love lies broken!"
Lilith claimed Seraphine's waist, pulling her close. "Welcome to enlightenment, little zealot." Her whisper promised ecstasy and ruin.
Chaos erupted. "Kill them!" Vareth screamed. "Before the corruption spreads!"
With Seraphine's defection, Kael's power surged exponentially. He strode forward, golden energy erupting from his pores. Stained-glass windows exploded into glittering shards. Oil lamps snuffed out, replaced by his pulsating radiance.
The False God's heartbeat became frantic beneath them, its rage impotent against Kael's primordial might.
"You built cages and called them love!" Kael's voice layered with countless others—Inquisitors, villagers, ancient entities. "Now witness true freedom!"
He slammed his palm onto the marble. Golden fissures spiderwebbed outward, racing up pillars toward the altar.
The False God's scream shook the very foundations—a sound of primal fury and terror.
As the cracks reached the altar, the Weeping Saint's colossal statue detonated. Behind the rubble, a black light flickered... then died. The central relic—the False God's anchor—was no more.
Every remaining Inquisitor collapsed simultaneously, their eyes void of all but hollow obedience. Faith, will, even basic desire—all scoured away.
Seraphine choked back a sob at the sight.
Kael turned to her, his glow softening. "This is true freedom."
The golden child perched on his shoulder. "So many hearts yet to claim!"
Lilith traced Seraphine's jawline with a claw. "And such delicious corruption to savor."
Outside, black smoke coiled from seven crumbling spires. The city's bells tolled not for prayer—but for the death of an era.
The Primordial Human had claimed his throne.
And the world would burn before it bowed.
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