CHAPTER 441: RAPTURE

As stated earlier, Lilith and Malgarius’ battle, although intense and powerful, happened in another realm, so the experience for outsiders was null. Plus, Lilith was almost in the realm of demigods, and Helheim was officially hers. She was Helheim, and Helheim was her. At her level, fighting against her was like fighting against the dimension.

But that would be for another day. Ethan and Leon’s battle, though, was being experienced by the whole world of Debranlith.

From the Anbord Empire, to the Elven Kingdom, and even the Dragon Empire.

All witnessed the fight between two mortal gods or Saints.

Once again, Saints had half a step in the realm of godhood. An Emperor Realm had the power to destroy cities and even level kingdoms. A Saint Realm being had the power to destroy kingdoms, empires, and even partially level a planet. Saint Realm beings were natural disasters, and thus, where the title of mortal gods comes in.

A very powerful Saint Realm being has a world or dimension they are bound to for eternity. They grow alongside that dimension or world. The larger it is, the powerful they are.

Barki was at the third Epiphany of the Saint Realm, and she was very powerful. Powerful enough to destroy all empires in the world, but she lacked one thing... a world.

A world defined a Saint’s power.

Lilith was close to the Demigod realm because she had Helheim. Helheim alone was as vast as a half and more of Debranlith.

All that was needed was for it to gain consciousness and fully assimilate with Lilith, then she would become a demigod. Other factors also apply, like her heart: Ethan or Lucifer.

Fafnir, the Dragon Empire, was weaker than Lilith, but he was just as powerful. More powerful than Barki and all the other rulers combined. Why?

Because he had the Dragon Empire. It was his. He was the Empire, and the Empire was him.

Leon had reached the second Epiphany because of his identity as a being of Chaos. Chaos was everywhere. It was the beginning and the end. He didn’t need a world. All he needed to do was to do evil, spill blood, and cultivate his Ice magic, and that’s all.

In an actual sense, Ethan should have been stronger despite the backlash, but he had skipped many steps. Imagine how powerful Ethan would be if he used Anbord as his world. The current Anbord was larger than Helheim. After all, he had combined Anbord and Old Gassendi, which he had barely explored.

But these are all assumptions. Only the future would tell, thus, if he survives this battle.

Saint Realm beings were natural disasters. Their power worked in the realm of concepts. Even a fake Saint would pose a huge threat to any kingdom because of that factor.

So what would happen when two true Saints, even with one regressed in power, fought? Destruction! Despair! Apocalypse!

Rapture!!!

That’s how it was all around the world. In powerful kingdoms like the Elven Kingdom, they had protective domes to protect the citizens from the effects of the battle, but just the shockwaves shook the very earth and the domes.

If the elven king wasn’t a Saint Realm being himself, only the Primordials know what would have become of the kingdom.

The Dragon Empire was the same, though no one seemed affected. It was expected of the strongest race in the world, with the strongest emperor, though that title was in question at the moment.

Helheim, though in another dimension, was still part of Debranlith. It was just in a separate dimension, so it wasn’t affected, but that didn’t mean its inhabitants didn’t know what was going on.

In fact, they were watching a live broadcast of it at the moment... however, they got it.

...

Even every corner of Debranlith, the world trembled. Mountains quivered as if struck by the heartbeat of a god, rivers churned backward, and forests bowed under the invisible weight pressing upon the land. The clash between Ethan and Leon was not simply seen... it was felt, resonating through the very laws of existence.

Above the Anbord Empire, the sky had split. Clouds were torn apart by waves of gold and blue light clashing like two celestial storms.

The Sphere of Accord trembled, its formations struggling to stabilize under the pressure of two conflicting domains bleeding into reality. Even from the safety of the capital, nobles and soldiers alike fell to their knees, clutching their chests as their souls quaked in fear. The imperial army, elite warriors empowered by the emperor’s blessings, stood frozen in awe, their instincts screaming that this was not a battle of mortals.

Within moments, lakes froze solid, mountains bled molten stone from the strain of energy coursing through the earth, and the winds screamed like tormented spirits. Above it all, the battlefield on the outskirts of Anbord had become a spectacle of ruin and wonder, a tear in reality where the elements rebelled against their natural order.

Thankfully, they had a hidden powerhouse in Anbord, Zark, so there were no casualties despite the earthquakes and other disasters.

In the Elven Kingdom, the luminous barrier that surrounded their great city pulsed violently. The trees of the Eternal Forest shivered, shedding silver leaves that glowed like falling stars. The Elven King stood at the heart of his palace, one hand extended to reinforce the dome as cracks spiderwebbed across its crystalline surface. Around him, the high elves chanted spells of fortification, their voices harmonizing with the forest’s ancient magic. But even nature itself seemed to recoil from the violence happening beyond its reach.

One of the royal advisors whispered, voice trembling, "Is this the power of Saints?"The King’s emerald eyes glowed faintly, filled with grim awe. "No," he murmured. "This is the power of those who were never meant to be bound by mortality."

In the skies far beyond, the Dragon Empire trembled. The ground beneath the imperial capital split open as torrents of magma surged upward, painting the horizon crimson. The great dragon statue that crowned the palace cracked, and from its fissures, golden light spilled like blood.

Emperor Fafnir stood upon his obsidian balcony, the sheer heat of his fury melting the stones beneath his claws. His golden eyes flared brighter than the sun as he watched the chaos unfurl in the distance, his gaze piercing space itself. The veins of magic running through his kingdom pulsed violently, reacting to his rage.

"That fool dares to stain the skies of my domain with his madness!

" Fafnir’s voice rumbled across the empire, carried on the winds like divine thunder. Lightning forked across the clouds in response to his wrath, and dragons throughout the empire roared in fear and loyalty alike.

His scales gleamed with incandescent fury, the air around him trembling. "Ethan Kael’Dri. You bring apocalypse to my world as if it were your playground." His claws curled, shattering the railing. "If that battle spreads one inch into my lands, I will erase both your names from existence!"

He raised his hand slightly, the runes of his dominion burning into existence before his palm, then paused. Through the storm of power, through the vast distance, he could sense something deeper, older. The clash wasn’t just strength against strength. It was a war of meaning, of purpose. Chaos and Order, destruction and stillness.

He lowered his hand slowly. The magma rivers dimmed, but the fury in his eyes did not.

"Fine," he growled. "Let the world see what happens when Saints forget the weight of their power. But, we still have a score to settle... Kael’Dri..."

...

Meanwhile, deep within the hellish skies of Helheim, the scene was unlike anywhere else. The underworld’s crimson heavens pulsed with eerie light, reflecting the battle happening in the mortal world. Upon a jagged mountain peak of blackened stone and fire, Lilith stood barefoot, her purple hair whipping in the infernal winds.

Her eyes, those enchanting purple orbs, were locked on the image floating in the burning sky. It was Ethan, clashing against Leon, blood streaking his armor, his hammer glowing faintly under the crushing cold. Every strike, every movement of his body was seared into her mind.

She smiled. It wasn’t gentle or fond; it was wild.

"Beautiful..." she whispered, her voice breathy and trembling. "Every motion, every struggle... you’re magnificent, my love."

The air around her quivered as flames erupted spontaneously, responding to her spiraling emotions. Her hand reached out, tracing the faint outline of his image in the sky. "That’s my beloved," she murmured. "Bleeding, breaking, yet still shining."

Her heartbeat synced with the roaring of the volcano beneath her feet. Streams of molten rock burst upward like veins of fire, painting her in molten light. Her expression shifted, adoration warping into obsession.

"I’ll never let anyone else have you," she whispered, her voice now filled with something darker, possessive. "When this is over, when your world burns and freezes, I’ll take you back. You’ll rule beside me again. You’ll remember who you belong to."

Helheim responded with a deep rumble. Rivers of flame cascaded down the mountainside, and spirits in the distance shrieked as the realm itself twisted with her desire.

But then...

"Wait! What was I thinking? He wouldn’t love that! Forgive me, Voryn!" Lilith, the demon empress, knelt as she asked for forgiveness from the image of Ethan. Whatever was happening to her... only she knew, or perhaps Ethan knew.

...