Chapter 214: Birth of Daemon God – 2

Every Ascended turned.

“Because some of you would rather see the world burn than admit that power alone is not supremacy.”

Her eyes swept the chamber.

“You don’t care about mortals. Fine. Neither do I.”

That shocked them.

“But I care about balance,” she continued.

“And balance is not maintained by clenched fists and broken realms.”

She gestured to the barrier.

“Whoever did this believes strength means isolation. Controlled silence.”

Her gaze hardened.

“That belief has always belonged to men who confuse dominance with divinity.”

The air froze.

Aurelion’s smile vanished.

“You accuse us,” he said slowly, “because you fear we are right.”

“No,” Kailthrys replied.

“I accuse you because while you debate superiority, someone is rewriting creation.”

She turned away from them.

“Argue philosophy if you wish. But understand this: when the daemon god rises, it won’t ask whether you are male or female.”

“It will only ask whether you are strong enough to survive what you allowed.”

And for the first time since the barrier formed—

Some of the Ascended felt something dangerously unfamiliar.

Fear.

Women weren’t afraid of the daemon god, as they knew the power the daemon god wielded. It was the realm that provided them balance that was at risk here.

*

In a space that existed outside normal reality, in a prison designed by the Ascended themselves to contain threats too dangerous to kill but too powerful to leave free, something changed.

The walls that had held for centuries began to crack.

Not from external assault, but from within. The prisoner, weakened by continuously pouring out her energy to break the prison.

Because she’d known. Somehow, impossibly, she’d known when the daemon god would manifest. When reality would be weakest. When the Ascended would be distracted by crisis.

Magdalyna had been counting on it.

Her true form, not the human guise she wore in the mortal realm, but her actual body, struck the prison walls with force accumulated over decades. The structure, designed to be impregnable, shattered like glass.

She didn’t waste time celebrating freedom.

Didn’t pause to savor escape.

She simply moved, traversing realms with speed that made conventional teleportation look pedestrian.

She had to reach Jaenor. Had to stop what was happening. Because if the daemon god fully manifested, if it claimed the boy’s body as its vessel…

Everything she’d planned, everything she’d sacrificed, would be lost.

The journey should have taken hours, even for a being of her capabilities. She crossed it in seconds, burning power she couldn’t afford to waste, pushing herself beyond safe limits.

And she arrived at the forest clearing where the ritual was occurring.

What she saw made even her ancient heart falter.

*

The ritual circle blazed with light so intense it should have been blinding, yet somehow remained visible in excruciating detail. The seven Sins stood at their positions, still chanting, but their voices had changed. They weren’t directing the ritual anymore, they were being swept along by it, barely maintaining control of forces they’d unleashed.

And above the circle, Jaenor hung suspended in chains of pure Sin energy.

But he wasn’t unconscious.

Wasn’t passive.

His eyes were open, bloodshot, the whites completely red, the irises blazing with light that cycled through every color and several that had no names. His body convulsed continuously, muscles spasming, bones creaking under pressure they weren’t designed to withstand.

His mouth was open in a silent scream, and from it, darkness poured.

Not smoke or shadow but actual darkness, the primordial nothing that had existed before creation. It flowed like liquid, pooling in the air beneath him, defying gravity and logic in equal measure.

His six wings were spread to their maximum extension, but they were changing. The translucent energy was becoming more solid, more real, and in that process, more wrong. They pulsed with veins of darkness that matched what poured from his mouth.

The daemon god was coming.

Not smoothly or gently.

It was coming from him, making him experience the excruciating pain of ripping open his body while he was still alive.

It was unbearable, and Jaenor’s body was convulsed with pure agony.

And from the agony visible in his bloodshot eyes, he was aware. Conscious throughout the entire horrific process. Unable to scream, unable to fight back, just enduring as something infinitely more powerful than himself violated every aspect of his being.

Magdalyna felt rage unlike anything she’d experienced in millennia.

“NO!”

Her voice carried force that cracked trees and shattered stones.

“Release him! NOW!”

The Sins turned toward her, and their expressions showed surprise mixed with contempt.

“Magdalyna,” Pride said, his cultured voice strained from maintaining the ritual.

“How unexpected. We were told you were contained. That your prison was unbreakable.”

“You were told wrong,” Magdalyna snarled.

She raised her hands, and power gathered, crimson energy that had destroyed armies, that had once been sufficient to fight Ascended beings on equal terms.

But as she prepared to attack, as she channeled everything she had into stopping this abomination, she felt it.

Emptiness where power should be.

The prison, which she was in, by breaking out of it, had drained her. She was still formidable, still more powerful than most beings in the mortal realm.

But against seven coordinated Sins, with a ritual this far advanced?

She was insufficient. Alone and weakened, she couldn’t stop this.

She attacked anyway.

Crimson energy erupted from her hands in a concentrated beam aimed directly at Pride. If she could kill even one Sin and disrupt their formation, maybe the ritual would collapse.

The beam crossed half the distance before it was intercepted.

A barrier appeared, not demonic energy, not Sin power. This was origin energy. Pure, perfectly controlled, and wielded with expertise that rivaled her own.

And stepping from the shadows at the clearing’s edge, her hands still glowing from manifesting that barrier, was Morgana.

Magdalyna froze, shock and disbelief warring on her ancient face.

“You,” she whispered.

“You’re with them?”

Morgana’s expression was serene.

Showing none of the concern or horror someone should feel witnessing their nephew being violated by primordial darkness.

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Morgana said quietly.

“And you shouldn’t stop the ritual.”

Magdalyna was startled as she stared at her in utter confusion.

“Isn’t he your nephew, your family?”

“He is going to die if you don’t stop this. The Daemon lord will eat him alive.”

“Yes, I know, and he is the only one capable of bringing her back.”

The sounds of combat had been ongoing at the clearing’s periphery, Jaenor’s group fighting desperately against the demon general and his forces, trying to break through to reach their friend.

But at Morgana’s words, at the sight of her blocking Magdalyna’s attack, those sounds stopped.

Baren, in his dragon form, blood dripping from dozens of wounds, turned his massive head toward where his supposed ally stood beside the Sins.

His roar of betrayal and rage echoed across the forest.

Taeryn and Darian, fighting back-to-back against overwhelming numbers, faltered. Both of them stared at Morgana with expressions of pure incomprehension.

“No,” Rena whispered, her small voice somehow carrying clearly.

“No, that’s not possible. Morgana wouldn’t; she’s been with us from the beginning. She’s Jaenor’s aunt. She—”

“I am his aunt,” Morgana confirmed, her tone remaining eerily calm.

“I’m his family. I’ve protected him, guided him, and helped him survive. Everything I told you was true.”

She took a step toward Magdalyna, her origin energy blazing brighter.

“But I’ve also been preparing him. Training him. Ensuring he developed his power to its fullest potential. Because he needed to be strong. Needed to be the perfect vessel.

And he is.

Look at him, still conscious despite having a god forced into his body. Still fighting despite the agony. That’s the strength I helped cultivate.”

“Why?”

Magdalyna demanded.

“Why would you do this? You’re his family. You swore to protect him!”

“I am protecting him,” Morgana said, and for the first time, genuine emotion entered her voice. “Protecting him from a fate worse than this. But you wouldn’t understand. You’ve been obsessed with him for years, watching him from a distance, thinking you knew what was best. But you don’t know what I know. Don’t understand what I’ve sacrificed to reach this point.”

She raised her hands, and the origin energy she manifested was different now.

Stronger and more refined. She’d been suppressing her true capabilities, hiding her actual power level for years.

“I can’t let you interfere.”

The ancient demoness prepared to fight. She was completely shocked by the revelation of Morgana’s betrayal. She still didn’t know why she was stopping her.

Magdalyna launched herself forward, crimson energy blazing around her fists. She was ancient and experienced and had fought battles that predated human civilization.

Morgana met her with techniques that shouldn’t have been possible for someone her age. Origin energy shaped into constructs that countered every attack, that turned Magdalyna’s momentum against her, that demonstrated mastery that required centuries to achieve.

They clashed in the center of the clearing, and the shockwave from their collision flattened grass in all directions.

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