Even as the thought came, Carpathia knew it would cause more trouble than good. The seals kept some truly dreadful beings at bay.
"Shadows' Abyss Claw: Planet-Breaking Talon!" Carpathia's voice thundered across the shattered cityscape.
A colossal shadow claw materialized behind him, stretching impossibly high into the sky. Its very presence blotted out the sun. In length, it touched the heavens; in breadth, mountains were reduced to mere pebbles in comparison. Val'tora had only seen this attack once before in his 15,000 years—when Carpathia obliterated an entire planet with a single strike. Back then, Val'tora had only observed as a follower. But now, he stood in its path.
Five millennia hadn't dulled the power of the technique—if anything, it had grown. Carpathia had perfected it.
"Descend."
Carpathia's hand dropped, and with it, the claw plunged.
Val'tora's mind raced. There was nowhere to run. The claw's range was global. His only hope was defense.
"Darkness Array: Ten Thousand Souls Requiem Shield!!" Val'tora bellowed.
His arms turned a pale greyish-black as necrotic energy surged through him. A massive shield burst into existence before him, constructed from black mist that writhed and pulsed like living fog. At first glance, it appeared soft, almost fluffy. But its deceptive nature was legend—this was no mere veil. The Requiem Shield had once held against a Pantheon-tier celestial bombardment. Only those of Legend Form or above could hope to breach it.
The shadow claw descended.
When it struck the shield, the world groaned.
The collision didn't explode. It didn't shatter mountains. It silenced the earth—so complete was the power behind it that even sound fled in terror. The shield held... for a moment. It pulsed, absorbing the blow, its edges fraying with ghostly cries echoing from within. The air warped. The ground beneath Val'tora turned to glass.
For three long seconds, it held.
Then—crrrrkkkkkk—a hairline fracture appeared.
Another. Then a third.
With a haunting wail, the Requiem Shield cracked open like an egg, unable to contain the might of the shadow claw. Wisps of the claw's energy seeped through the cracks, like venomous smoke slithering toward its prey.
Val'tora's fingers began to melt.
Not burn. Not disintegrate.
Melt—into nothingness.
He screamed, but no sound emerged. The mist coiled into him, tore through his body, his soul, his essence—ripping him from existence, strand by strand. Within moments, Val'tora was no more than a pale reminder of his former self.
His body had been shattered to nearly inexhaustible pieces, his SE had begun fluctuating again, without an external SE it was clear the Indwelling would end in a few minutes at best.
Beneath Carpathia, the earth wept.
The attack had not only annihilated its target—it had devoured all matter, all light, all air in its path. Even particles in the upper atmosphere had been erased. Nature itself struggled to recover. Wind currents faltered. The very soil turned grey with sorrow. The sky dimmed.
Itekan watched from far way, still bound and bloodied. He saw his father kneel, resting a hand upon the ground, whispering something only the earth could hear.
But Itekan's mind was on escape.
He didn't want his father to see him like this—tied, bound, humiliated.
But if he acted rashly, Aitken would notice him again. So he did the one thing no captive should ever attempt.
"Mini Chajama," Itekan whispered, yanking his hand from the blood pins that impaled his flesh. Agony lanced through him as he completed the hand signs with trembling, blood-soaked fingers.
Blood started to sizzle. Blood boils at approximately 212°F or 100°C, but due to the uniqueness of Aitken's spiritual energy infused blood pins, it began to steam at over 3,000°F or 1,650°C—hot enough to melt steel. Itekan held the mini fireballs close even as the melted not just the blood pins but him as well
Itekan pushed the steaming blood into the center of his chest, where the pins had punctured his slowly-healing heart. He gritted his teeth through the pain as steam hissed from his chest, drawing Zain's attention.
Zain turned abruptly. His fist lashed out at Itekan's head—too late.
"Toitoi."
The shadow form exploded from Itekan, yanking him away just in time. He narrowly avoided the strike—but underestimated its range. Even ten meters away, the shockwave turned his legs to jelly and sent him tumbling.
The ground split apart in a 20-meter radius. Rubble flew. Air cracked.
Itekan scrambled to his feet. Zain was already charging again.
With a desperate leap, Itekan soared into the air, his shadow tentacles snapping out to hold him aloft. He grabbed a massive boulder and hurled it.
Boom. Crunch!
Zain bit through the rock. Shards exploded from his mouth as he spat it out.
"Puny!" he snarled.
---
Elsewhere…
Carpathia turned his gaze to the next Apostle.
He radiated divinity—his mere presence bent reality. Kings would fall to their knees before his gaze. Light clung to him, darkness retreated. He was born of death, the First of the Deathborn, and his name was—
Ascalon.
"Why are you doing this?" Carpathia asked. "What's your goal? You must know you can't win."
Ascalon smiled. "Of course. We're only a distraction."
"A distraction?" Carpathia's voice echoed through broken walls and toppled towers. "You're either confident—or stupid."
"Ask yourself… why now? Why here? Why a ruined land, a broken nation with no god? Why a place that hates you?"
Carpathia said nothing. The questions echoed thoughts he'd already wrestled with.
"We were never meant to defeat you," Ascalon continued. "We came to summon the one who died, yet lives. The one who transcends life itself—all for Lord Noir."
Carpathia's eyes narrowed.
"I destroyed the Altars—"
"Did you really think we had no backup plans?" Ascalon raised his arms. A single thread of SE formed at the top of his fingers.
The threads of SE gathered together and formed a rune like formation above his head. Then it glowed.
Carpathia's breath quickened as saw this.
'this isn't something they should have access to' he thought to himself.
In the distance, the broken Altar reformed. A hum vibrated through the earth. All around, Altars glowed a deep, poisonous purple.
"Don't do this," Carpathia warned. "He isn't what you think—"
"Spare us. Your fear speaks louder than your words," Ascalon sneered. His facial orifices glowed purple. Cracks spread across his skin upon the indwelling—his mortal body failing to contain the descending god.
Carpathia lunged.
Too late.
Two Apostles emerged from hiding behind him—cowards he had dismissed as insignificant.
He turned mid-air.
"Get out!"
He grabbed one's face and ripped it clean off. With a snap of his fingers, the other's skull popped like a grape.
He rocketed toward Ascalon, who was now fracturing like a porcelain vase under pressure.
Just as Carpathia reached him, a blood missile shot toward his flank. Without looking, he swatted it aside with effortless contempt.
Boom!!
The missile tore through the battlefield—and through Aitken, reducing him to ash.
Carpathia reached Ascalon just as his body began to stabilize—the cracks were healing.
Too late.
With a snarl, Carpathia gathered all his power into one strike and punched Ascalon with full divine force.
BOOM!!
Ascalon was launched through the crust, down through the mantle—straight toward Earth's core, where temperatures can reach 10,800°F (6,000°C), hotter than the sun's surface.
Carpathia watched the crater steam. It's finished, he thought.
Then came the rumble.
He was wrong.
Authors Note* So it won't confuse you I'll say it here, the demon realm(Hell) and the human world(Earth) don't follow the same time, in the demon realm(Hell), it has been 5000 years since Carpathia deflected, but in the human world, it has only been 14 to 15 years.
Spiritual Energy -- SE
Spritual Sea -- SS
Spiritual Signatures -- SST