CHAPTER 352: CHAPTER 341: TRUST ME

The collapse was endless.

Light devoured sound; stone became wind. For a heartbeat that stretched beyond time, Eli felt her body dissolve into weightless dust, every particle screaming with memory.

When the world returned, it did so in fragments—shards of ice spinning through the air, the taste of blood sharp in the back of her throat, and the echo of wings, thousands of them, like storms grinding against each other.

She coughed, dragging herself up from the rubble. The air was thick with frost and burning light. Claire was already on her feet, violet flame flaring around her arm to keep the debris at bay.

Lara crouched beside her, a small figure beneath the fractured sky, staring up through the ruin where heaven’s light poured down like molten glass.

And Merlin—Merlin stood at the edge of the chasm that had once been the tower wall, staff planted deep into the ice. His robes fluttered in the gale, his eyes wide not with fear, but awe. The chained one was still there.

Michael.

Half-buried beneath shattered crystal and snow, the archangel of legend remained seated, his expression unreadable. Chains still bound him, but the light around his body flickered weakly—like the pulse of a dying star.

Lara whispered, "He’s still alive."

Merlin turned sharply, his voice trembling with something Eli had never heard before—reverence. "Alive? Child, that’s not a man. That’s Michael. The First Flame. Heaven’s right hand."

Eli frowned. "Who?"

Merlin’s gaze never left the chained figure. ".....He led the armies of Heaven before the world even had a sun. The first to draw blade against the many gods. The one who sealed the Pit of the leviathan to the dreaming...."

Claire tilted her head. "And now he’s... here?"

Merlin’s jaw tightened. "Which should be impossible. Heaven chained him in its highest vault, not in Hell’s second layer. If he is here—" His words caught, the rest unspoken. Then the order of all things is broken.

The sky cracked again.

Three silhouettes descended through the storm, each wreathed in their own celestial blaze. One burned with lightning, a storm given flesh; another bled fire and ash; the third was wrapped in symbols—runes of gold and void, circling their body like planets around a sun.

Demigods.

Their voices rolled like thunder as they hovered above the ruins of the Fallen city, gazing down at the broken tower and the sea of black wings gathering below.

Merlin’s heartbeat quickened. "No..."

Eli’s sword sang as she drew it, light glancing off the blade. "They followed us.....?"

"No," Merlin said quietly. "They were here before we ever stepped in."

Below them, the Fallens stirred. Hundreds of them. Their rusted armor gleamed faintly beneath the blizzard’s glow as they raised shields, forming walls of blackened feathers and silver.

The priests among them knelt, opening massive tomes bound in bone. Their chants began as whispers—ragged and desperate—but grew with every breath.

The air thickened. Light swirled into patterns above their heads, forming a dome of pale radiance that encased the ruined city. The shield. A prayer-forged barrier.

Lara clutched her spear. "They’re protecting him."

Merlin’s eyes darted toward the chained archangel again. Michael had not moved. He sat amid the chaos, half-shrouded in ice and shadow, as if the storm could not touch him. His gaze was distant—somewhere beyond the mortal world.

"Why isn’t he fighting?" Claire muttered. "If he’s who you say he is, he could end this."

"He could," Merlin said softly. "...even I don’t know why..."

Lightning struck the dome, and the world exploded in sound. The demigod of storms had moved, spear in hand, eyes blazing with holy wrath.

Fire followed—an inferno pouring from the second figure, melting the snow into rivers of steam. The third lifted their hands, runes pulsing, and reality itself wavered, the air humming like a dying chord.

The shield screamed under their combined power.

Merlin felt the impact deep in his bones. He could taste ozone and blood, hear the priests choking as they strained to hold the dome. But the chant did not stop—it grew.

Words older than gods themselves rolled across the ice, spoken by voices that should have been silent centuries ago. And the light answered.

The shield blazed pure white.

Eli stared upward, eyes wide. "They’re holding."

"For now," Merlin muttered. He turned to her, urgency cutting through the awe. "We cannot stay. Our path lies east—toward Atlas. Not in this war."

Claire nodded, already moving. "Agreed. This isn’t our fight."

He looked to Lara. "Come. Now."

But Lara didn’t move.

She stood at the edge of the ruin, gaze fixed on the demigods above—their wings, their light, the arrogance in every motion. Her blue hair whipped around her face in the storm, her eyes glowing faintly with the system’s hidden hue.

The cat leapt from Merlin’s shoulder, landing gracefully on hers. Its golden eyes narrowed, tail twitching as it watched the sky.

"Lara," Eli called, urgency rising. "Let’s go!"

The girl didn’t answer. Instead, her hand lifted. A faint hum filled the air. In front of her, the translucent blue screen of the system unfolded—visible only to her.

Words glowed in divine light.

[Mission Active: Save the Fallen City. Optional Objective: Free the Bound One.]

Her lips parted. A heartbeat of silence stretched, then—"I...can’t leave."

Eli blinked. "What?"

"I have a mission." Her voice trembled, not from fear, but conviction. "If I don’t do this, they’ll all die."

Claire swore under her breath. "That’s not our problem!"

Merlin’s eyes snapped toward her, fury and confusion mingling. "A mission? From who? From what? Its not the time to play hero Child, that’s your brother’s job!"

But Lara didn’t look away from the sky. "It’s back now."

The cat purred softly, its gaze fixed on Michael.

Merlin followed her line of sight—and froze.

Michael’s eyes were open now, blazing faintly through the frost. He watched the three demigods above, silent, unmoving. His chains pulsed with light—each link glowing with runic wards that hummed in pain.

He could break them. Merlin could feel it. Every part of him screamed that truth. And yet, Michael remained still.

Why?

Merlin’s thoughts raced. If Michael had fallen to Hell, it meant Heaven had abandoned him. But if Heaven was sending its half-born demigods here—then this was no accident. Something was hunting him. Something vast.

The air cracked again. The demigod of runes descended further, symbols spiraling from its hands. Each rune struck the shield like a meteor, flaring in divine gold. The barrier flickered. The priests cried out as blood ran from their noses, their chants growing raw.

"Merlin!" Eli shouted. "We need to move!"

He nodded once, staff lifting—but the ground split beneath them before he could cast.

A wave of force hurled them back, ice exploding upward in spears. Eli rolled, shielding Lara. The cat hissed, golden eyes blazing.

Through the smoke, the fire demigod descended, landing amidst the ruins. Flames coiled around their body, wings of molten glass unfurling. The heat was suffocating.

They looked human, almost—but their eyes were empty light. "Abominations," they said, voice echoing like a choir. "You protect the fallen? Then fall with them."

They raised their hand, and fire bloomed.

Merlin thrust his staff forward, incantations ripping from his throat. A barrier flared—barely in time. The flames hit, roaring like dragons, searing the very air. Claire screamed a word of power, adding her own magic, violet fire colliding with gold.

The shockwave threw them apart.

Merlin hit the ground hard, vision blurring. Through the haze, he saw the priests still kneeling, still chanting, as their light cracked. The demigods pressed closer, relentless.

And still, Michael did nothing.

"Why?" Merlin rasped, dragging himself to his feet. "Why do you sit there, damn you?"

The chained one’s eyes flicked toward him at last. "My war has ended.....I already lost..."

"Lost?... Cunt! But you still live!!!" Merlin snapped. "Do you not see your angel brothers are dying."

Michael’s gaze drifted to the demigods. His voice was quiet—almost tender. "They are not angels, not anymore. They are echoes of Heaven’s guilt. Children built from regret."

Another impact shook the dome. The sky itself seemed to scream.

Merlin’s fury gave way to desperation. "Then help us, damn it!"

Michael looked down at his chains. "I....cannot."

"You mean you will not."

A faint smile touched the fallen’s lips. "Both are true."

The cat hissed, tail flicking. Its golden eyes met Michael’s, something ancient passing between them.

Then—without warning—Lara moved.

She raised her spear, blue aura flaring like lightning, and charged toward the line of priests. "Let me help!"

"Lara!" Eli shouted, running after her.

The girl reached the priests just as the demigod of storms unleashed another volley. Bolts of light tore through the sky, crashing against the barrier. She thrust her spear upward, magic surging through it—amplifying the prayer’s strength.

The barrier steadied. The cracks sealed.

The priests stared at her, awe in their hollow eyes. "A mortal?" one whispered.

Eli caught up, grabbing Lara’s shoulder. "You’ll get yourself killed!"

But Lara was smiling, eyes bright. "Not if we finish this...trust me."

Above them, the demigods gathered light once more. Fire, thunder, and runes intertwined, forming a single spear of annihilation. The heavens darkened.

Merlin’s instincts screamed. "Everyone, down!"

The beam fell.

The world became white.