Chapter 624: 624

Beyond the clearing, Zadkiel sat in a relaxed position, a cup in his hand, his eyes fixed on the fallen world below. He looked up at them and smiled.

“Indeed we aren’t. His name is Zadkiel.” “He’s told me much about you, Lady Keles,” Zadkiel said, rising to his feet. He took her hand and lifted it, placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Charming,” Keles replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, while Ikenga simply rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

“You seem happy,” Keles observed, her tone soft. Zadkiel was momentarily taken aback before he understood her meaning.

“Maybe so,” he conceded, his gaze thoughtful. “Your man helped me see things differently.” Both Keles and Zadkiel looked toward Ikenga, who was now preparing tea.

“You give me too much credit, Zadkiel,” Ikenga called out, a smile in his voice. Laughter filled the garden, a warm, shared moment between them.

As Keles walked toward the golden statue, she brushed her arm against its surface, a solemn expression returning to her face. “His soul isnow bound to this statue,” she said to Zadkiel. “He’ll feel piercing pain every moment he spends here. And each new day, his body will forget the pain, but his mind won’t. It will continue until his soul dissipates completely.”

Zadkiel’s smile was bright as he turned to Ikenga. “You are lucky to be blessed with such a lady. With your brain, it’s a wonder you got her at all.”

Ikenga raised a brow at the jab. “What? Why should I be the one to come up with your punishment?”

Zadkiel scoffed. “It’s only right you do. You’ve experienced life more than I have. I was looking forward to the ideas you could bring forth, but you offered nothing. Thankfully, Lady Keles saved the day.”

Keles watched the two bicker, shaking her head with a faint smile. Ikenga had a unique talent: he could peel away the layers of a person’s facade and expose the foolery hidden beneath. Even the arrogant Crepuscular had found himself joining in the playful nonsense when Ikenga was around.

Days bled into a slow, creeping transformation on the planet below. The oceans, once a vibrant blue, had turned a deep, unsettling purple. The marine life within them began to mutate, their forms twisting into grotesque parodies of their former selves. Even the sun, cloaked by the ominous purple clouds, had taken on a sickly, bruised hue.

The closer the demons got to their goal, the more the world’s unconscious will fought back, a desperate, fading attempt to save itself. But the demons were relentless, their advance a methodical, unstoppable plague.

On the Abyss layer, Zarvok was not idle. He spread the word of his impending victory and ascension throughout the layer, demanding that all demons surrender to him. They did so without resistance, knowing the immense power he was about to acquire.

Another strange sight in the Abyss was the way Zarvok had his men stationed at the edge of every pathway of the River Styx. There, demons’ eggs were pushed out by the millions each day, a seemingly endless tide of new life, all under Zarvok’s watchful control.

It was a common sight in the Abyss to see newborn demons pushed out by the millions from the River Styx. What wasn’t common, though, was what happened next. Zarvok’s men, a specialized force, were deployed to halt the newborns from acting on their first instincts to attack and devour each other. The new demons hissed and tried to attack as one, but the difference in strength was too great. They were suppressed, unable to act on their chaotic nature.

Finally, the day came. On their moon-bound garden, Ikenga, Keles, and Zadkiel found themselves weeping uncontrollably. They weren’t alone; across the corrupted planet, the final piece of land had been tainted by the Abyss. The world let out a silent cry, a deep resonance of agony felt by many but heard by only a few.

The goblins, ogres, and Ratmen, who had submitted to the new order, all found themselves tearing up without knowing why. Their hearts ached, a primal grief for something profound that was now lost. Rattan, in his throne room, felt it the most. He began to bawl, crawling out of the palace in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening to him and his world.

As the world’s final cry faded, Zarvok stepped out of the Abyss portal. His generals marched in a silent, disciplined formation behind him. The ground quaked with his every step, a final, desperate resistance from the dying world. But with each stride Zarvok took, the tremors grew weaker, the world’s fight fading into submission.

Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, Zarvok vanished. The generals stood motionless, his army spread across the conquered land. Even Ikenga and Keles, their focus fixed on him, were taken aback by his disappearance. Only Zadkiel remained calm.

“He’s at the world’s core,” Zadkiel stated, his voice a low, steady hum.

He was right. Zarvok had found his way to the heart of the planet, a place accessible only to those who had completely taken over a world. His army was now stationed in every corner, securing his conquest.

At the center of this sacred space, a transparent egg floated, a growing consciousness swirling within it. The figure inside, a grotesque fusion of a Ratman and a goblin, writhed and shifted, its form constantly changing as if it were uncertain of its own existence.

Zarvok floated upward, raising his hand and drawing blood from it. Before the crimson droplet could fall, he felt the desperate, unconscious plea of the world’s core. But he said nothing. His ascension was too close, his path to absolute power too clear. He would not let a plea, no matter how profound, halt his progress.

A single drop of his blood, a perfect, dark bead of power fell into the world’s core, the shifting Ratman-goblin consciousness within the egg, pleaded with a silent scream, a final, desperate plea that vibrated through the very fabric of existence.

The drop of blood fell, a crimson meteor streaking toward the core. The instant it made contact, a wave of power dark, corruptive, and absolute shot through the world.

The purple skies above them began to tear like old cloth, revealing a swirling, chaotic vortex of black and red. The ground shuddered violently, not in resistance, but in a final, agonizing surrender. The oceans boiled, and the land cracked, revealing not magma but the pulsating, blood-red glow of the Abyss.

Rattan finally pulled himself together, staring up at the sky in disbelief. The world was being consumed, and he couldn’t comprehend it. Driven by a desperate need for answers, he shot into the air, an act visible to all beings at the sixth stage. Some watched with mockery, while others, like Ikenga, watched with keen interest.

As he ascended higher, Rattan’s desperation grew. This time, Phantom didn’t remain silent.

“What’s happening to my world?” Rattan cried out, his voice filled with distress.

“Your world is falling into the Abyss,” Phantom’s clear voice responded.

“This shouldn’t be happening,” Rattan stammered, his voice trembling. “We have so much left to do, so much growth to come. I’ve finally beaten the fate laid upon my race. We haven’t even had time to taste the richness of life.” He watched in horror as the world dissolved around him.

Meanwhile, Phantom gazed at the ball of light representing Rattan’s ambition. It was a seed he had nurtured ever since he crossed paths with Rattan, a process that made him finally understand his true nature as the Arch Curse of Envy.

Before this transformation, he viewed things through mortal eyes, seeing envy as a base flaw of mortal creatures. Yet, his own mortal life had been a testament to this very emotion. He had always craved fame and recognition, but his talents never matched his ambition. He became a phantom, a being ignored by everyone, his existence meaningless.

Even after he became a curse, he remained this way until he met his fellow Arch Curses, brought forth by their creator, Ikenga. His fellow Arch Curse was also a being of envy, but unlike Phantom, this envy didn’t come from a personal lack. Instead, it stemmed from the envy of others directed at his immense talent. This other Arch Curse was known as Spotlight.

Spotlight never shied away from his immense talent and thrived on the attention it brought him as he ascended through the ranks of the world. Yet, after a decisive battle, Phantom found himself the improbable victor. It was a reality he had once believed was impossible.

From that moment on, he emerged in a new state: The Spotlight Phantom.

Spending time with Rattan and fostering his growth, Phantom finally understood that envy was not inherently good or bad. For mortals, envy was the very flame that ignited ambition. In that moment, envy transformed into a dream, a goal. Some dreamed of being a good parent, while others wanted to be seen as a savior.

Some dreams are small, and some are grand. The grand dreams, Phantom knew, were where the real problems began.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep