Silence, and the complete and utter lack of movement.
It really was such a bizarre thing to see, especially in the middle of a grueling warzone.
The Earth—groaning and cracking under the sheer quantity of violence released upon her surface, let out a sigh of relief. Metallic stench, wafting out from the nightmarish amount of blood spilled, filled the air. Too many deceased beings, corrupted and ascended alike, littered the pitiful ground.
The battlefield was truly an otherworldly mess, in some parts it was charred beyond recognition, the once fertile soil now nothing more than black soot. On other parts, it was frozen, literally. Ice encased everything as far as the eye could see. Nothing, dead or alive free from its chilling clutch.
Far in the distance, the towering crown of an impossibly tall tree could be made out, the setting sun doing nothing to mask its ominous aura.
But the most terrifying apparition perhaps, was the titanic silhouette that loomed alongside the descending sun, the sheer size of whatever the thing utterly incomprehensible to simple mortal eyes.
Yet, past all the strangeness—horrifying as it was, stillness reigned upon the lands, and something else... a feeling of wrongness held the air by its collars.
Nevertheless, no being dared a twitch. Even the Seraphims, the cocky descendants of Dawn—and the cunning Nephilims held their breath.
Humans, Corrupted and even the Divine alike stay still, all of them powerless against the gaze that peered into their very being.
But in a way—be it the most bizarre one, it made sense.
After all, It was Night herself who had called for the pause.
Who were mortals, or heck, even gods to deny the order of an absolute fragment of reality.
An eternity passed by under the eerie stillness, even the wounded holding back their groans.
Then, titanic gaze of Night shifted, and the battlefield let out a sigh of relief.
A truly mind boggling amount of presence bloomed on the battlefield, and Earth groaned once more, the sheer weight of all the power making her surface quake, yet it was still less suffocating than the pirercing gaze of NIght.
All beings—gods and mortals alike, let out a shaky breath, the final drops of their bloodlust sapped from them.
Yet, the sense of wrongness still held, only growing and growing as the moments passed by.
There was something
It only took a small while for the strongest of beings to understand what was wrong.
Anger.
No, more accurately, it was hatred.
It was pure, distilled, unbridled hatred. Its burning, blinding radiance a somber sight to behold.
Because after all, it was directed right at the oppressive presence of Night.
The battlefield held its breath once more as Night settled her gaze upon it.
Stillness took over again, but not completely this time.
Far far into the battlefield, on an especially gruesome piece of it, where the highest of beings was duking it out. The muffled sob of a young man could be heard, it sounded weak—pitiful almost, like the poor guy had just got his world shattered.
And in a way, it had.
Sapped of all his strength, Yuki Veritasis was kneeled on the ground. In his arms, he cradled the limp body of another man, both shared the same jet black hair and ruby eye's, but only one of them alive.
"Atlas…Atlas…please" Yuki choked, his voice weak, shaking in the throes of unbearable grief.
"Please… wake up…" He sobbed, but to no avail.
Atlas Veritasis had met a bitter end, the impossibly dark spear jutting out of his chest a grand sight to behold.
Sadly enough, it looked like his brother was destined for the same fate too.