Chapter 342: Chapter 341: LAW
The Shattered Citadel ( within the broken crystal palace )
The ruins of Heaven stretched beyond sight.
What had once been a sanctuary of gold and hymns now lay as a field of corpses and crystalline dust. The air shimmered with fading divinity, a mirage of holiness that refused to die even as its keepers burned.
Atlas walked between Gabriel and Raphael. Neither spoke. Their wings dragged faint trails of light across the ground—remnants of what they once were.
They had been searching for hours—or maybe days. Time here didn’t behave. It folded in on itself, light bending like memory. The Citadel loomed ahead, its spire cracked but still rising into clouds that bled silver.
"The First Citadel," Gabriel whispered, almost reverently. "Where oaths were sworn. Where the Almighty forged us from His breath."
Raphael snorted softly. "And where He abandoned us just as quickly."
Atlas said nothing. He was too busy watching the way the marble walls seemed to pulse, like veins running with liquid light. Each pulse matched the slow, steady beat of the Key hidden beneath his cloak. It throbbed against his chest like a heart that wasn’t his.
They entered through the shattered gates. Inside lay a hall vast as a city. Statues of angels lay sundered, their faces cleaved, their eyes hollow. Gabriel ran his hand along a broken sword embedded in the floor.
"These belonged to my generals," he murmured. "Seraphs of the Dawn. I trained them myself."
Raphael knelt beside another body—charred, but faintly glowing. "This one too. Rashael of the Ninth Choir."
Atlas studied them both. "Can any still rise?"
Gabriel shook his head. "Their souls are scattered. But a few... yes, a few of our mightiest were sealed deep in the lower sanctums. If the Key truly opened Heaven’s chains, they may awaken soon."
So they searched.
They moved through shattered corridors and stairways lined with singing glass. Sometimes the glass still whispered—faint echoes of hymns trapped within its crystalline veins. And once, as Atlas passed a broken column, he heard something breathing.
Gabriel raised his hand. Light flared from his palm, illuminating a form slumped against the wall. Not dead—just dormant. Wings like molten silver, armor cracked but intact.
Raphael stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "That’s Cael, the Hammer of the West."
Gabriel’s breath hitched. "He lives."
Together they pulled the angel upright. Cael gasped once, then twice, his eyes flickering open. He stared at Gabriel in disbelief. "Commander...?"
Gabriel smiled faintly. "Rest easy, brother. The war isn’t over yet."
More followed—two, then three others, drawn from the tombs of crystal. Generals, saints, warriors who had once commanded legions. They awoke like revenants, each bearing the same hollow awe. The Prophet’s touch, Gabriel whispered to them, had broken the seals. The Almighty’s silence was ending.
Atlas watched in silence. He didn’t correct them. He didn’t tell them the truth—that it wasn’t prophecy, but chaos; not divine will, but blood and the Key.
When they reached the Citadel’s heart, the light changed. The air was colder, heavier. At the far end of the chamber stood two thrones—one of gold, one of obsidian. Both empty.
Raphael stopped dead. "Michael’s seat," he whispered. "And Lucifer’s."
Gabriel’s hands trembled. "Empty."
For a moment, the silence between them grew unbearable.
Then, without warning, a horn sounded—deep, mournful, echoing through the heavens like a dying star’s final cry. Every angel flinched. Even the walls seemed to vibrate with dread.
Raphael’s wings flared. "That sound... it’s the Call of the Sun."
Gabriel’s expression froze. "No." His voice was barely a whisper. "He cannot come here."
Atlas frowned. "Who?"
"The Sun God," Gabriel said, his tone tight. "Helios. One of the High Seven. Only Lucifer or Michael ever stood against him and lived."
The horn blared again, louder this time. Light poured through the cracks in the Citadel’s dome—pure, searing, blinding.
And then—he descended.
Through the blinding radiance came a figure wreathed in gold fire. His armor was liquid sunlight, his hair a cascade of flame. His eyes—white and endless. The air bent around him, reality bowing to his presence.
Gabriel’s knees nearly buckled. Raphael drew his sword, though his hands shook. "We are not ready for this," he hissed. "We cannot fight the Sun."
But then Atlas saw the face beneath the halo—and froze. His pulse staggered.
"Loki..." he breathed.
It couldn’t be. Yet every line of that face—sharp jaw, sly smile, those same restless eyes—was his. His friend. His reason for everything.
But the being before him did not smile. His gaze was cold, godlike, detached.
"No," Gabriel whispered. "That is not your friend. That is... Floki—the child of Helios. The heir to the Solar Seat."
Atlas’s mind reeled. Son of the Sun God... It explained the resemblance. But something deeper twisted inside him—a dread that this was not coincidence. That some cosmic design was mocking him.
Floki’s voice rolled through the hall like molten gold. "So... the pests already crawl back into my Father’s play house."
Raphael’s wings crackled with lightning. "You should have stayed gone, Solar spawn."
Floki smiled faintly. "You mistake mercy for weakness. I came to see the spark that broke our chains. To see the mortal who walks among gods."
His gaze fell on Atlas. For an instant, the light dimmed.
Atlas’s breath hitched. The Key under his cloak burned hotter, almost painfully so. He felt its pulse sync with Floki’s aura.
He knows, Atlas realized. He can feel it too.
Then came the voice.
Inside his skull—low, guttural, familiar.
{{{{{{ Let me out. }}}}}}
The Guide. Silent until now.
{{{{{{ If you let me possess you, I will end him. The virus that you call a god will crumble before us. You’ve seen my strength. You know what I can do. }}}}}}
Atlas’s jaw clenched. The memory of that possession—golden blood on his hands, three gods dead at his feet—flashed through him. He had promised himself never again.
"No," he muttered under his breath.
{{{{{{ You’ll die without me. He’s stronger, stronger than the one who pummeled you...}}}}}}
"Then I’ll die on my own terms."
The Key flared brighter, reacting to his defiance.
Floki took a step closer, each footfall ringing like a bell. "Tell me, mortal," he said, "did my bastard brother send you? Or do you serve another master?"
Atlas met his gaze. "I serve no one."
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then Floki laughed—a sound like sunlight splitting glass. "Then you’ll die free, at least."
He raised his hand, and the world ignited.
A wall of solar fire tore through the chamber, vaporizing stone and shadow alike. Gabriel threw up his wings, shielding the others, his feathers burning at the edges. Raphael hurled his spear, lightning twisting through flame, and the clash was thunder made flesh.
Atlas stumbled back, shielding his eyes. Every nerve screamed. The Guide’s voice roared within him, demanding control, promising survival.
{{{{{{ Submit! }}}}}}
He screamed—not from pain, but from refusal.
"Not this time!"
And for a moment—just a flicker—he felt something else answer him. Not the Guide. Not Heaven. Something deeper. A surge of power that wasn’t borrowed or stolen. His own. His law.
{{{{{ Falter}}}}} atlas beloud
The flames faltered. Floki blinked. "What—?"
Gabriel seized the opening, driving his blade through the light. Raphael’s lightning followed, spearing the solar god’s shoulder. Floki staggered back, surprised—but not defeated.
"This isn’t over," he hissed. His aura flared, brighter than the sun, and in an instant he was gone—rising back into the clouds, the horn’s echo trailing after him.
Silence fell. The marble floor was half-melted. The air still shimmered with heat.
Raphael collapsed to one knee, panting. "We’re alive. Somehow."
Gabriel looked at Atlas, eyes wide with both fear and awe. "You... resisted him. And the flame. How?"
Atlas stared at his trembling hands. They still glowed faintly gold.
"I just used my LAW.," he said quietly.
Gabriel said nothing. But in his gaze, Atlas saw something dangerous—faith.
Far above, the clouds of Heaven rippled, hiding the retreating light of Floki’s ascent.
" We need to move, go back where’s it safe...." He beloud.