Paladin 4: Chapter 64 (Patreon)

Unlike the lower layers, no clearly marked stairway led to take from the Fifth Layer to the Sixth. But the lack of an entrance was no impediment to Darren.

He flew as high as his wings let him, all three sets streaming Divine Aura as they carried him further and further upward.

The sky that wrapped around the top of the Fifth Layer was false, made to look like the sky of the mortal world. He found that out when he pushed against its greatest heights and found a soft barrier pressing back against him.

Dimensional Rift let him cut a hole through it. Peeking out, he saw the world that housed the Sacred Seas. It looked so small from far away.

He tried his Dimensional Rift repeatedly until he finally found what he was looking for. A doorway that led further up. He knew what it was the moment he found it since the concentration of Divine Aura took another jump upward.

He stepped through the door, amused to find the Sixth Layer of the Heavens not too dissimilar from the Sixth Layer of the Seven Hells.

Like its dark counterpart, the Sixth Layer of the Heavens became a garden. The sun shone brightly on the nearby leaves and grass, scattering among the modest trees. They weren’t even as large as the trees in Eastwood, and if not for their vibrant colors, they would have appeared rather ordinary.

In fact, not one of the flowers or trees would have looked out of place in the Sacred Seas, had they been duller or plainer versions of themselves. It was like this place had taken every flower and every blade of grass and pushed as much life as would fit into them.

Streams ran through the garden, each no bigger than a creek but crystal clear and teeming with tiny fish. Darren bent over and ran his fingers through the water. It wrapped around his hand, and he had the impression that if there was any Demonic Aura in him before he’d dipped his hand in, the stream would have washed it away.

One of the nearest trees was an apple tree with plump fruit hanging from its branches. He plucked one and took a bite. It was juicy and had a bright and airy flavor. Not as sweet and decadent as Laura’s cherries, but still a flavor so intense a mortal who ate the fruit would find themselves lost to the taste. The Divine Aura infused within the fruit would be enough to make even the least talented person into someone eligible to become a Holy Adept.

Under other circumstances, Darren would have plucked every fruit for the rest of his people. Unfortunately, most of them hadn’t been able to follow him into the heavens for their lack of power, though they dearly wished to.

But he would have free rein of the garden soon enough.

There was something else that caught his attention in the garden though. Several somethings, now that he saw them clearly, and all of them had been watching him with ten thousand eyes each.

Just like the Seven Hells, this garden was not without its residents. Again, his mind went back to what Horon had said of this place. This was where the Prime Ophanim lived, the strongest of the ophanim, and those that controlled the entire ophanim network that underpinned the entire heavens.

He had seen many ophanim, but never ones of such size or majesty. The Prime Ophanim were bigger than the rest, and if Horon’s tales held true, they were as strong as Prime Saints. Would they react to him with hostility?

Darren waited, crouching among the leaves and bushes. He was ready to move the moment one made a hostile motion. He’d never seen an ophanim attack before, and that thought worried him. Visions of being crushed by a giant rolling wheel of eyeballs drifted through his mind. They didn’t seem capable of combat at all, but neither had the Omniscient Codex.

He watched, and they watched him in return. He remained unblinking as he stared them down, and they did the same.

Apparently, they were quite content with this turn of events because their staring contest stretched from seconds to minutes. Darren had never been so severely disadvantaged before, for his opponents each had ten thousand eyes, and he had only two.

Eventually, even a man as cautious as Darren was forced to concede that the creepy orbiting rings of eyes were not about to attack him. He still held his sword in hand, but as he thought about warily sneaking by them, he sensed the tether of Divine Aura that connected his sigil to the ophanim his mother was in drawn taught. It vibrated like a plucked chord on a musician’s lute. A moment later, a quest appeared before him.

New Quest!

Hello Son.

Objectives: None.

Rewards: None.

Darren’s eyes went wide, and not because he still thought he could out-stare the ophanim. When he spoke next, his voice shook.

“M-mother?”

New Quest!

You’ve grown so big.

His heart beat faster in his chest. He scanned the Prime Ophanim, drifting among the garden as they hovered a hand-span above the grass and wove between the fruit trees. He traced the thin line of Divine Aura. The first connection his sigil had ever formed and the only one of thousands not woven by him. This was the connection his mother had made for him upon his death so that she could continue to look after him even after passing on.

“I’m here, mother,” Darren said, the corners of his eyes watering when he spotted the ophanim. He approached it, but it ignored him. The great spinning wheels rotated one after another, meandering on some unknown course as the thousands of conflicting minds within it each tugged it in one direction or another.

Darren waited for another quest. For another message from his mother. After so many years, he finally felt so close. If he could, he’d tear her free from the ophanim and see if he couldn’t restore her, as a seraph if not a human.

But no further quests came, and the ophanim moved on. His mother’s voice went silent, and the tether between him and her went slack again. She must have exhausted what influence she had over this ophanim. As a soul that had formerly been an archpriestess, she had a lot of power compared to most human souls.

He looked deeper, trying to distinguish her from the other souls within the ophanim. Surely someone of her former power would stand out like a torch among candles. Few others studied the structure of priestess souls as much as he did. He had scrutinized many, Cassandra and Thalia’s in particular.

But try as he might, he could sense no sign of her. A dark thought loomed over him. What if she had been wasting the last vestiges of her power to send him his quests? He remembered how happy he’d been for those few moments of contact and the joy of completing a quest. But if his mother had been suffering to deliver those moments to him, it would turn those few bright spots during darkness into ashes in his mouth.

He shouldered the thought aside. He would see his mother again no matter what. If she was weakened, he would help her restore her strength. If she was dead, he’d bring her back to life. Simple as that.

He turned to the center of the garden. The Lord of Light’s palace was impossible to miss. It was far larger than Laura’s humble cabin.

To call the structure magnificent would be to do its description a disservice. Every surface gleamed, and each wall seemed made of crystal instead of stone. The light beaded against its surface and reflected colors in all directions.

Darren reached for the front doors, grasping the rings hanging there and pulling. The doors bore no lock, for locks would stop no one capable of breaking into this realm.

“You’ve come at last...” Kalaziel growled as soon as Darren opened the door.

His bruised and battered form clung to the Heavenly Throne. The seraph’s once pristine wings were tattered and hung limply behind him. His once-golden armor was dented and cracked. His well-groomed beard hung loose and haggard from his chin. Bloodshot lines ran through his eyes as he glared at Darren from across the room.

“It’s time to end what you began,” Darren replied.

Kalaziel, stubborn and prideful even in his battered and weakened state, wrapped his fingers tightly around the arms of the throne.

The simple stone seat was far taller than the Throne of the Blackwind Empire. It was built for a giant, twice as tall as Darren was, with an empty back so the seraph who sat upon it could unveil their wings without obstruction.

While smooth and well sculpted, it had a strange simplicity to it that contrasted with the finery around them. It was like the maker knew no number of gold or gems would make the throne more impressive than the rest of the room. So they made it unimpressive so that the throne stood out all the more for its simplicity.

“This is mine. I earned it!” Kalaziel snarled. “You know how many years I spent defending the heavens? You mortals never had a better guardian than me!”

Darren stepped forward, gaze unwavering as he stared at the snarling seraph. After his defeat, he’d lost the kingly air he’d work about him like a mask. Now he looked more like a snarling madman.

“You may have been a guardian once, but no more.” Darren shook his head. “You sacrifice those you should have protected. Your people turn into monsters under your orders. You allied yourself with the very demons you hate and fear so much.”

Kalaziel’s eyes blazed with defiance, and he gripped the throne even tighter. “You think you can take my place? You, a mortal? The Heavenly Throne cares nothing for rightful heirs. Even if you are the son of the last Lord of Light, only the worthy may claim it for themselves. How could you, a human, be worthy when the throne rejected even me?!”

Darren shook his head with Melancholy in one hand and Inevitability in the other. “I don’t come for the throne, Kalaziel. It’s just a seat, and I have many like it. No, I came for you.”

The air in the chamber thickened, and the tension between Darren and Kalaziel hung.

Despite his weakened state, Darren tread carefully. Kalaziel was a dangerous foe and a force to be reckoned with, but Darren wasn’t the same scared boy he was when Kalaziel’s machinations first found him. Nor the man he’d fought in Salsroth. Or even the leader he’d been when they fought earlier that very day on the Fifth Layer.

Now Darren was the Paragon of Humanity and had grown in strength, wisdom, and resolve. At the final step of his journey, he had bridged the gap between him and the strongest of the Prime Saints.

Kalaziel’s face contorted with rage, and he launched himself from the Heavenly Throne. Their battle began anew, but Darren was a little faster this time.

Their flurry of motion threw the palace into chaos. Tapestries lining the wall that depicted long-dead heroes from forgotten legends were torn asunder.

The battle intensified as Darren and Kalaziel unleashed their full abilities. Swords clashed, fire scoured the throne room, and the earth trembled around them. A building on any of the lower levels of the Seven Heavens would have been torn apart, but the Lord of Light’s palace was as sturdy as any building could come.

Kalaziel plucked an unfamiliar item from his belt, and it widened into a divine spear made of light as long as he was tall. He hurled it at Darren, who caught it and spun to toss it back, only to have it explode in his hands when Kalaziel snapped his fingers from afar.

“Ha! I’ve been fighting since you were a twinkle in your grandmother’s eye, boy.” Kalaziel spat as he prepared another spear of light. “You think you can beat me just because you’re a little stronger and a little faster now?”

Kalaziel hurled another spear of light, but this time, Darren was ready. He caught it with Manifest Will, deflecting it to the ground before him to throw up a cloud of dust. Darren used the explosion to close the distance between him and Kalaziel.

The Prime Saint’s battle instincts were no less honed than Darren’s were though, and when Darren arrived, Kalaziel was aiming another spear right where Darren appeared.

They played a game of cat and mouse, with Darren weaving between Kalaziel’s incoming attacks just out of sight. The chorus of steel and divine power clashing repeatedly echoed through the empty palace. Darren moved with the grace of water flowing over the rocky ground, anticipating Kalaziel’s every move. But, despite his wounds, Kalaziel fought on, undeterred.

Between two warriors of incredible skill, their battle became one of attrition. Neither made so much as a single mistake and ever dodged attack was evaded by nothing more than a hair. The only blows Darren landed were ones of compromise. In these attacks, Kalaziel will take a thin cut along his cheek so he could deal a similar blow to Darren’s wrist.

Those small cuts added up, and despite Darren’s incredible regeneration, his wounds rapidly accumulated. Red blood oozed down the tattered remains of his Shapeshifter’s Mantle. The mythic helmet he’d gotten off Commander Thorn was nothing more than scrap metal now.

Kalaziel shrugged and tossed the last of his armor aside, relying only on his Radiant Armor skill to protect him now. Golden light formed the outlines of plate mail over his battle-scarred chest. Golden blood dripped from his wounds as he panted.

He snarled at Darren, his expression a mixture of fury and desperation. “Don’t underestimate me, mortal! I am the strongest Prime Saint, and I will not be defeated by a human!”

Their dance of death continued, and the air shimmered with the intensity of their divine energies. Eventually, an opening appeared that Kalaziel had been waiting for. Kalaziel’s Sword of the Setting Sun graced Darren’s shoulder, leaving a deep and painful gash. Blood seeped from the wound and would not stop despite Darren’s regeneration. He grits his teeth despite the pain and focused.

“A few more like that, and you’ll be finished. So you think you can defeat me?” Kalaziel grinned. “Think again! As soon as I drive you from the heavens, I’ll reclaim everything you and your toy genus loci has stolen from me! Then I go to the mortal world and hunt down all your followers and spare bodies.”

“Look to yourself before you celebrate,” Darren said as he ignored the cut on his shoulder.

Darren may have taken a heavy wound, but the blow he’d dealt Kalaziel in exchange was far worse. Inevitability clipped straight through the left side of Kalaziel’s chest.

Kalaziel stared at the wound and chuckled. “Aye, I’m wounded as well. The next exchange will finish things.”

Both were exhausted and wounded. Darren had never used so much Divine Aura at once before. Not even in his earlier fight against Kalaziel. Even his prodigious reserves had taken a substantial loss.

“Agreed.” Darren gripped his sword tighter, preparing his magical senses for what he suspected was coming next.

“But there’s one thing you failed to account for!” Kalaziel laughed, cackling madly. “Divine Restoration!”

Absolute Analysis: Skill Analysis

Divine Restoration (Legendary)

Renews the user to peak health, removing all fatigue and damage. Sheds all afflictions and can restore the user from death upon being killed. Usable once per day.

This was the moment Darren had been preparing for. When Kalaziel thought he had won. This ability would heal Kalaziel’s wounds and restore his reserves of Divine Aura. But, wounded and depleted, Darren couldn’t keep up even with his new aspect.

Divine Aura flowed out of Kalaziel in great heaving waves, swirling around and through his body as every part of him grew brighter and stronger. Within moments, he’d be as healthy and whole as he’d been before their first fight that morning.

But little did Kalaziel know, Darren had also been waiting for this moment.

“Nullification,” Darren said, using his own legendary skill. The one he’d picked precisely for this final battle.

The building Divine Aura within Kalaziel’s body faltered and shattered. His eyes widened as his ability failed for the first time in his life. This legendary life-saving ability, which had likely saved him countless times, failed him when he needed it most.

“What?” He let out one confused gasp, and then Darren buried his sword straight through the seraph’s heart.

Kalaziel’s eyes locked on Darren’s, fingers growing cold as he clutched at Darren’s cheek. The focus left his eyes, and the life within him faded away. The golden glow from his wounds grew brighter, and his body collapsed in on itself like a balloon struck by a needle.

A fountain of golden sparkling light shot out in all directions. All the Divine Aura that had once made up the Prime Saint of Valor dispersed in all directions. Kalaziel fled with all haste, and the power that once made him up would reconstitute whatever it could of him someday.

Or that is what would have happened, but as the energy passed through Melancholy, it swirled in strange and mysterious ways. Darren felt Melancholy's powers activate, twisting what essence was left of Kalaziel to reveal his true nature, which had been hidden within the deepest crevasse of his soul all along.

A dark laugh echoed out from the shadows all around him. The palace turned darker, and the billowing clouds of Divine Aura turned into a grim, dark mass. Bit by bit, all the power that had been Kalaziel transformed into Demonic Aura. A mass of miasma, denser than anything Darren had ever seen, swirled through the room right where Kalaziel had been struck down.

And from those shadows, a dark and twisted figure emerged, born anew through Melancholy's power.

Absolute Analysis: Item Analysis

• Melancholy's ties to its wielder and creator allow it to ignite the sins within its enemy's souls, increasing damage based on the degree of the souls negative alignment. When activated to its fullest power, Melancholy ignites an enemy's soul with the weight of their sins, revealing their true nature.
• Those slain after revealing their true nature will have their existence burned out and erased from reality, removing all traces that they ever existed for those beneath the fourth order.

"You fool..." Kalaziel chuckled, voice darker and more sinister than ever before. "My wounds are healed. Through the power of your own sword, I have been reborn! Yes... I feel new power coursing through me, I am the Prime Saint of Valor no more!"

Darren knew that Kalaziel spoke true. He had indeed shed his former form as a Prime Saint through Melancholy's power. His sword could transform his most heinous foes into demons after their defeat.

Once, Darren had wondered what the point of such a power was. Instead of having to defeat a foe once, he would have to do so twice. In the hands of any but him, Melancholy's powers would be a curse. But in his hands, it would let him end things once and for all.

"I am now the Prime Sin of Pride!" Kalaziel's dark chuckle told Darren all he needed to know about what Kalaziel thought of his new aspect. The way the air thrummed with his new Demonic Aura showed that this aspect matched Kalaziel even better than Valor ever had. "I am more powerful than ever before!"

Darren gripped Melancholy tightly and smiled as he shook his head.

"No, Kalaziel. I am not the fool here."

Harbinger of the Apocalypse activated—one of Darren's oldest skills, now upgraded to Legendary. Through its power, he gained a thousandfold increase in damage against all demons.

Kalaziel didn't even last a single strike.

One moment, the cackling shape of the newly formed Prime Sin laughed in exaltation as he prepared to test his new powers.

The next moment, there was nothing left of him but ashes.

Everything that had once made up Kalaziel was consumed in a blast of blinding golden light, and Melancholy severed Kalaziel from life, fate, and memory all at once.

With his destruction, Kalaziel's dark deeds were unraveled, like a string plucked from the tapestry of fate. The deaths he caused, the sorrow he wrought, and the chaos he sewed was gone. For those beneath the fourth order, it was like it had never happened. Such was Melancholy's true purpose.

He understood his sword now. Once upon a time he'd given it a name so that it could carry his regrets. Now it took those regrets, not just from him, but from the entire world.

He would see the effects his sword when he returned to the Sacred Seas. But for now, Melancholy clattered to the ground as Darren purified what little Demonic Aura was left of Kalaziel, wiping the last traces of him from existence.

“It’s... done.” Darren fell to his knees as his strength left him. He clutched his wounds for a moment, breathing shakily. Eventually, he gathered himself and reached into his Realmvault. He poured Fountain of Youth water on the wound, but the Sword of the Setting Sun dealt wounds that ordinary means could not heal. He would have to ask Laura or the Omniscient Codes if he wanted to fix his shoulder.

He patched over things with Manifest Will. Though the wound still lay beneath, his efforts would keep him from bleeding and let him use his arm for enough strength for daily tasks. Under ordinary circumstances, he’d be worried about not being at full power for a while, but today that finally no longer mattered.

Kalaziel was dead. The Sacred Seas were safe. His growing family was safe. He could put away his swords for a while, and no one would force him to draw them again. He chuckled, unsure what he was going to do with himself now. At least until Ashe manifested her body to join in his celebration. The sight of one of his lovers gave him a very good idea of how he would spend his time from now on.