—— When Heaven Fell Silent——
Alrik had known all along that I was there.
When he spoke his first words, his gaze cut straight through the darkness and locked onto my position. Now, that single remaining eye—sunken, malignant—gleamed like a sharpened blade.
"I warned you yesterday," he said coldly. "I told you to leave. Are you so eager to die?"
"Alrik," I replied, steadying my breath. "In life, you were once respected. To commit acts that defy the Way of Heaven after death—are you truly unafraid of retribution?"
"The Way of Heaven?"
"Retribution?"
He burst into laughter.
The sound tore through the stillness, rising violently into the grey sky. My skin crawled. The laughter was not merely loud—it was invasive, as though it burrowed into bone and marrow. Selene and Clara tightened their grip on my arms, their trembling impossible to hide.
Then, without warning, the laughter stopped.
Silence reclaimed the world.
"Tell me," Alrik said quietly, lifting his head toward the ashen heavens.
"Does this world truly have such a thing as the Way of Heaven?"
His gaze was hollow—not from blindness, but from the complete absence of expectation.
"If it exists," he continued, his voice worn thin by decades of suppressed fury, "then where was it when my eye was torn from its socket? When my ear was cut away?"
"I was thirteen."
He exhaled slowly, as if tasting a memory long since spoiled yet impossible to discard.
"I was born in the royal capital. My father was an alchemist in service to the crown—brewing elixirs, transmuting metals, conducting ritual experiments. From the moment I could stand, I followed him. Measuring reagents. Recording formulas. Learning sigils."
"We were not nobles. But we lived under the protection of a member of the royal family, housed within the outer palace. My father used to say it was both a blessing—and a leash."
He let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"When power struggles erupted within the court, some coveted my father's work. Others sought to erase rival factions. We were nothing more than convenient pieces on the board."
"That night, the palace was ablaze with light."
"A man in black robes came—golden eyes, surrounded by guards. He demanded an alchemical formula. One capable of shifting the balance of power. My father refused."
"So they slaughtered everyone."
His voice did not waver, as though reciting an impersonal archive.
"My parents. Colleagues. Apprentices. Over thirty lives. I survived only because I hid behind a false panel, buried among discarded reagents. I watched as they were executed, one by one."
"The next morning, I reported everything to the royal magistrate. I believed in Heavenly Law. I believed truth would prevail."
"I forgot one thing."
"Law, too, belongs to power."
"The magistrate had already been bought. He dragged me into the dungeon and handed me over to that golden-eyed man. They demanded I alter my testimony—sign a sworn confession of lies."
"I was literate. I understood runes. I knew exactly what that oath meant."
"So I refused."
Alrik's fingers curled.
"They took my eye. Cut off my ear. Then threw me into the wasteland, to live as something no longer human."
"Even then, I still believed in the Way of Heaven. I believed evil would be punished."
He looked up again, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.
"Nothing happened."
"The magistrate rose through the ranks. The golden-eyed man inherited everything—wealth, status, alchemical knowledge."
"So tell me," he said, his voice sharpening.
"If Heaven truly exists—
why were monsters like them allowed to prosper?"
---
His aura flared crimson.
The light around Alrik bled red, thick and viscous, like congealed blood. This was not metaphor. The fury of the dead manifested visibly—raw, oppressive.
Ghostly wrath was nothing like human anger.
Human rage hid within.
A specter's rage scorched the air itself.
Standing within that tide of hatred, I finally understood how distorted the records about him had been. I understood his despair—how, at the moment he needed justice most, Heaven had turned away.
So he hated.
He hated the world's injustice.
He hated Heaven's imbalance.
I found no immediate words to refute him.
"After that," Alrik continued, "I became a monster in the eyes of all. Wherever I went, people stared. Feared me. Treated me like livestock. Humiliation followed suffering."
"That was when I learned the truth."
"Heaven was never fair. Fate belongs only to the strong."
"To avoid being trampled, one must become untouchable."
"So I sought a sorcerer. For thirty years, I studied the Esoteric Arts. I unraveled the so-called cycles of Heaven."
I spoke at last. "And then you chose to challenge Heaven itself? To create the King-Maker's Elixir… the King-Maker's Art?"
"No," he replied flatly. "First came vengeance."
"I sealed the golden-eyed man. I cursed the magistrate's bloodline into extinction."
"Only then did I come here."
"Heaven demands obedience," he sneered. "It elevates the powerful and crushes the weak. Why should I honor its rules?"
"So I spent the rest of my existence mastering the King-Maker's Art. I raised the Seventy-Two Chthonic Deity Array. I forged my own kingdom."
"In life, I was denied dignity. In death, I claim sovereignty."
His laughter erupted again—more vicious than before.
"No," I said firmly. "You are wrong."
He turned on me.
"You were respected," I continued. "The people of Ashcroft revered you. In their legends, you were a master—a guardian. Had you truly protected them, they would still honor you."
"But you chose otherwise."
"Wrong?" he roared. "My family was butchered. I was mutilated. Was vengeance wrong?"
"And Heaven—had it stood with me, would I have opposed it?"
"Young fool. Do not preach virtue without having suffered. I wanted to be good. They gave me no choice!"
"You were right to seek vengeance," I answered calmly. "And right to defy Heaven."
"But you crossed the line."
"You sacrificed hundreds of innocent lives. You destroyed families. You enslaved souls."
"What happened to you was tragic. But did you ever consider those you condemned?"
"When they begged you for mercy—did you remember your own despair?"
"They had destinies of their own. You reduced them to offerings."
"That is your sin."
---
The moment the words left my mouth, Alrik struck.
An invisible hand materialized from nothing and clamped around my throat. Cold—unnaturally so. The strength behind it was absolute. I was lifted from the ground, breath instantly stolen.
His arm stretched impossibly, rubberlike, dragging me toward him.
"Even Heaven ignored me," he snarled. "Who do you think you are?"
"You wield a few trinkets and expect me to kneel?"
My vision darkened, yet I forced my voice out.
"I came for the souls you've oppressed for centuries," I gasped. "For justice."
"Justice?" he scoffed. "You're dying, and you still dare speak of justice?"
His gaze slid to Selene and Clara.
"First, I'll devour you. Then these two will remain—with me. Forever."
He hurled me aside.
My body smashed into the ground like scrap metal. Bones screamed. I collapsed at the gates of his phantom palace.
"Rhan!" Selene cried, rushing forward—only to be pinned by another unseen force.
Alrik appeared beside her in a blink, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder.
"Excellent," he murmured. "At last, something worthy. You will be my queen."
His other arm snapped out, dragging Clara toward him.
"And you—pleasant enough. You'll serve."
"Stop!" I shouted. "This is between us!"
"If you continue, the Meta Order will come for you!"
Even as I spoke, doubt gnawed at me. If they were coming, they would already be here.
"The Meta Order?" Alrik laughed. "They move only when the world burns. For a few hundred lost souls?"
"You should have known your fate the moment you interfered with my Seventy-Two Chthonic Deity Array."
"I'll make you watch them die."
Dark energy surged.
He was done talking.