Chapter 613: 613

He looked at the tea cup, at the swirling, glowing liquid, and saw a new reflection. Not of the pure, white-winged angel he once was, but of a being of profound sadness. He had lost his purity, but he had gained something in return: a new understanding of the mortals he had once dismissed. He had experienced their betrayal, their fear, and their despair. He had become something more than an angel; he was a being of both light and shadow, of purity and pain.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Zadkiel looked up at the vast, newly-formed planet. “It’s beautiful”, he thought to himself as he remembered the plane he himself came from.

It was a while before Ikenga’s figure reappeared. The angel, now calmer, was in the process of making a new tea, his movements fluid and purposeful.

“I thank you for being patient with me,” Zadkiel said with a radiant smile that caught Ikenga off guard.

Ikenga quickly composed himself, stroking his chin as he mused, “Have I, in my long years of living, gotten this open-minded?”

He sat down, accepting the cup the angel offered. The tea within had a distinct golden glow, and as he took a sip, an overwhelming sensation washed over his palate. The flavor was a mixture of both light and explosive, a taste of divine energy tempered with an unknown, vibrant quality.

“Well done for your first tea,” Ikenga said, and the angel’s smile widened at his words.

“Please tell me of the thoughts you have about the wizards,” Zadkiel said, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ikenga’s face turned serious. “This is just a thought of mine, one I hope may bring you enlightenment, as you may have a better outlook on it than I do.”

“You were captured by the wizards because of their ambition for power and their hope to understand something they could not,” Ikenga began. “Your capture was seen by them as a success and a golden opportunity to understand angels. Centuries have passed since your imprisonment, and from my understanding of these mages, once they see a path to success, they are bound to follow it.”

“Are you suggesting,” Zadkiel said, his voice trembling with a mix of horror and dawning realization, “that what happened to me may now be happening to countless angels? That they are unknowingly falling into traps by responding to mortal summons and calls for help?”

“I would like to say it is a suggestion, but I have a certainty that this is what is happening,” Ikenga replied, his expression grave. He looked at Zadkiel’s gray wings. “Your fate was not special. For all we know, such a fate may have befallen many angels before you across countless planes. They either weren’t lucky enough to escape, or they completely succumbed to their path of vengeance, falling completely from grace.”

Ikenga took a final sip of his tea, the warmth a sharp contrast to the cold cosmic horror of his words. “The only thing that makes your story special, Zadkiel, is that you didn’t completely fall. You had me to stop you.”

“My redemption,” Zadkiel whispered, his gaze fixed on Ikenga. “This was the redemption you speak of.” He looked down at his gray wings, then back up at the Origin God. “Unlike my siblings, who can no longer access the Silver City because they are fallen, I still can. In my current state, I can access it and, in turn, inform my siblings of the potential traps they may be falling into.”

Ikenga smiled. “That is your new purpose. Don’t waste your power on a war of vengeance.” He gestured to the distant goblin world. “The damage has been done, and the one who wronged you is now nothing. The grander purpose is to use what you have learned, what you have become, to protect others.”

“Turn your anger and rage not into a fight, but into vigilance,” Ikenga continued, his voice a low, commanding rumble. “Keep your eyes on the mage civilization. Study their ways and their actions. For the protection of beings like us the ones who are not yet fully grown, the ones who still hold a glimmer of innocence, we must be vigilant. We must make sure they never again use us as a means to an end.”

The angel appeared to be in deep thought, and after a moment, it said, “Thank you, you have given me much to think about.”

“Of course,” Ikenga replied, “but bear in mind that much time has passed since your capture. There may be another angel like yourself who did not fall and has already informed your people of this.” The angel smiled and nodded.

Before them, the golden statue of Vellok appeared. Zadkiel looked at Ikenga and said, “I would need your help for the punishment I have in mind for him.”

Ikenga nodded with a knowing smile, the faint glint in his eyes betraying a purpose he had kept to himself until now “I have something I need to get back first,” he said.

The ground beneath them shuddered as the planet responded to Ikenga’s will, shifting its path through the void like a living thing. Space bent and twisted, pulling them back toward the site of their earlier battle.

There adrift in the endless black floated Vellok’s tower, slowly tumbling and drifting away into the cold silence of deep space. Its silhouette was a stark reminder of the chaos that had transpired, its surface scarred yet still emanating a faint light.

Ikenga’s gaze honed in on it. With a subtle motion of his hand, his will surged outward. From the soil of the planet, immense roots erupted, twisting and writhing like the limbs of a giant creature. They surged forward, spanning the void, and latched onto the tower with a bone-deep crunch. The roots tightened, coiling around its base and dragging it down with irresistible force.

The tower groaned in protest, metal and stone bending under the strain, but there was no escape. It was wrenched from the stars and slammed into the waiting embrace of the planet’s surface.

With the task complete, Ikenga spoke a single word “Return.”

The space shivered as it fractured like glass, revealing a gaping rift where nothing but lightless infinity lay beyond. The planet, obeying its master, surged forward and plunged into the gap, hurtling through the folds of space toward Vellok’s people and Vellok’s home.

The concussive force of the spell tore through space, yanking Keles and Kairos, the emperor, from the battlefield and flinging them across the cosmos. They landed with bone-jarring impact on a desolate planet. The moment Keles’s feet touched the ground, her power surged. A tide of profound, starless darkness spilled from her, swallowing the sky, and the very ground they stood on.

Kairos, a veteran of countless wars, immediately tensed. His royal robes billowed around him as his hands flew to his sides, and a faint, electric-blue glow emanated from beneath his hood. He was ready for a divine assault. Yet, as the seconds stretched into an unnerving silence, no attack came.

He cautiously peered into the suffocating gloom. The darkness wasn’t just an absence of light—it was a tangible, living presence. In its depths, he saw Keles. The pregnant goddess lay reclined on her side, a seat of woven bone and shadow forming around her like a grotesque chaise lounge. Her hand raised, a single, languid gesture of invitation, and a throne of obsidian and void solidified opposite her, waiting.

A deep frown creased Kairos’s face. He had no time for this. No time for the goddess’s games or her power plays. The last thing he’d seen before the spell hit was the nighmare of his world, the terror in his people’s eyes. His heart ached with a fierce, burning urgency. He had to get back. He had to find a way home.

Kairos’s form blurred, a shimmer of heat-haze in the stifling darkness, and he vanished. He reappeared a moment later with a strange look on his face, his gaze fixed on Keles.

Keles, meanwhile, sat with one hand resting gently over her belly, her gaze wandering through the endless dark. There was no one visible, yet her voice carried clearly through the void.

“What a strange gift you have,” she murmured into the emptiness, her tone not mocking but almost contemplative.

The emperor said nothing, only letting his presence blur again as he vanished from sight. In the next instant, he reappeared standing exactly where he had been before his gaze fixed on his hand, a deep frown creasing his features.

“Time.” The word came as a whisper, yet it was so close to his ear it might have been breathed directly into him. Kairos’s heart gave the faintest jolt as the world around him… stopped. The air froze mid-motion. The drifting specks of dust, the slow curling shadows everything hung in perfect stillness.

He turned sharply, searching behind him, but there was nothing. Turning back, he saw that the goddess had not moved at all from her throne of bone and shadow, her stillness more unnerving than the frozen world around her.

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