Chapter 166
Theo didn't think.
He didn't draw his sword or prepare a spell.
He simply jumped, like a diver leaping into a nearly dried-up pool, toward the remnants of light that were growing more transparent.
There was a strange sensation.
Not a collision, nor a breakthrough, but something akin to stepping through a warm, pulsing curtain of water.
The world around him trembled, green hues flooding his vision entirely before everything was sucked into a weightless vortex of silence.
When the sensation faded, he stood—slightly unsteady—in a place completely different.
He had succeeded.
He entered, without needing any battle or trick, only with precise timing and the reckless courage to chase a dying light.
'A floating green field in silence.
Its grass was tall, the bushes tightly packed, and the trees rose like voiceless sentinels.
Not a bad choice for a meeting place.'
"Open!"
The sensation of spatial transition still spun in his head when a new scene abruptly clarified.
He was not in a dark or strange place, but in the middle of another green field—more fertile, filled with brush and tall trees whose leaves glimmered under a source of light unknown.
And there, dozens of meters ahead, standing with her back toward him, was Aldraya.
She looked undisturbed, as if the journey through the green light had been no more than stepping through an ordinary door.
Adrenaline surged through Theo once more.
He had no time for awe or to study his surroundings. His survival instincts screamed louder than any thought.
With movements learned from hundreds of hours of gameplay and the instinct to avoid detection, he stepped back.
His feet shifted lightly yet swiftly, his body lowering as he used every mound and cluster of foliage available.
Within seconds, he had slipped himself into the dense brush behind a large tree—just as Aldraya, as though sensing she had arrived at the intended place, began to move.
Theo, from behind the slit of leaves, watched Aldraya raise her hand again, this time her palm facing the empty stretch before them.
Then, from the mouth of the Angel who usually carried eternal silence, came a single word—soft yet resonant—shaking the air and the leaves around them.
'There is no doubt this is the work of divine authority, even if only the residue from the time when Aldraya still held the highest throne.'
Wuuuuuuh!!
'For the first time, I step into something resembling Heaven, even if it is not the true Heaven.
And strangely, I feel grateful.
With this human form of Eshura Birtash, at least I don't have to face her true power—which might shatter my consciousness instantly.'
Two seconds after the echo of "Open!" spread, reality before Aldraya warped, wrinkled, and then gave birth to a shape.
Not a simple green light, but a door.
A colossal door that towered high, dwarfing Aldraya's figure.
Its material was neither wood nor any known stone, but something that looked solid and luminous at once.
On its surface were carvings—intricate, dizzyingly detailed, alive—undoubtedly crafted by divine hands, or at least by the memory of such hands.
Every curve, every cosmic floral pattern, and every faint angelic face was gilded in warm, radiant gold.
Not earthly gold, but the kind that felt melted from the Creator's own joy, emanating a tenderness and majesty almost painful to behold.
Both majestic doors moved, opening without physical touch, swinging wide with silent grandeur.
And as the gap widened, it revealed not another scenery but a transformation.
A wave of reality swept outward from the threshold, rolling like warm, glowing mist. Within an instant, the world around them changed.
The green field, the brush, and the trees where Theo hid did not vanish, but evolved.
Every blade of grass emitted a soft inner gold, every leaf on the trees pulsed with a slow, deep rhythm, as if possessing a heart of its own.
The air was filled with warm, shimmering mist, creating an atmosphere both soothing and powerful.
The flora around them was no longer merely alive.
They communicated—breathing in harmony with a faint divine pulse, the heartbeat of a higher consciousness radiating from beyond the door.
This was a sanctified ecosystem, elevated to a higher plane.
Theo, from his hiding spot now veiled in glowing mist, understood the truth with a calm mind.
This was not the real Heaven.
Nor was it the throne-room of Quil-Hasa.
This was an imitation—a high-level constructed reality created by Aldraya, a manifested memory, perhaps even a private domain built by the former Highest Angel after being exiled from her home.
Yet that knowledge did nothing to reduce the awe shaking his soul.
For the first time since being stranded in this world, even with all his knowledge as an inspirator, Theo felt the sensation of stepping upon a land resembling Heaven.
There was warmth that seeped into his bones, a peace—perhaps false, but undeniably tangible.
And in the midst of all this danger and pursuit, a strange little feeling surfaced.
Gratitude.
Gratitude for witnessing, even from afar and in disguise, a heavenly beauty still able to be manifested by a wounded creation.
He took a deep breath, inhaling air that tasted of honey and light, preparing himself for whatever lay beyond the golden door now opened wide.
"Mother of Angels."
Duufffh!
Wuuuuuuh!!
"All praise and adoration unto You, O Ancient Light that forms the foundation of all life.
Endless gratitude for Your ceaseless wisdom.
And wrath upon those who dare profane Your Name, the One, Quil-Hasa."
Nguuung—nguuung—nguuung!!
"Grant a fragment of Your presence, so that my cage may sever the shackles still binding this heart."
Fhhhh!!
'Then the light formed ten pillars, each standing upright like cosmic guardians.
And from those pillars, the smallest fragment of Quil-Hasa slowly manifested.'
Theo's reverie over the beauty of the imitation Heaven shattered at Aldraya's voice.
A voice that, usually like a stone sunk deep into the ocean, now rose.
Not a murmur, not a whisper, but a clear and weighty declaration, echoing among the pulsing trees.
'Mother of Angel.'
The title floated—an image of universal affection, yet bitter and lonely in this air.
Aldraya did not stop.
As though unearthing the oldest tomb of memory, she continued, uttering another of her ancient names—a name long buried.
Theo held his breath, trying to catch its syllables, but the name was spoken in a language older than light, a vibration more feeling than sound, like crystallized grief.
Then, a litany began.
Aldraya recited praise—sentences of gratitude sounding like obedient lamentation—interwoven with sharp, cold curses toward anyone daring to insult the Almighty Quil-Hasa.
Each word was spoken with flawless solemnity, without a misplaced pause, without a wavering intonation.
Theo counted internally.
Thirty-two times.
Thirty-two sequences of praise, gratitude, and curses blended into a powerful verbal ritual—preparing the ground, calling for attention.
When the thirty-second ended, the air grew incredibly dense.
Only then did Aldraya express her request.
To be continued…