CHAPTER 153: ARM NOT REGENERATING?

"Just speak what you want," Celestia reminded, her tone carrying both warm and warning. "The Holy Promise will make it absolute. Whatever you decree will be etched into every scripture of the Church of Light. It will not remain a word spoken it will become divine law itself."

Razeal barely listened or even need her to explain. He already knew how this ancient oath worked as he had seen it used in the original novel once before ofcourse, and the memory was enough.

His eyes swept over the coliseum. Tens of thousands of gazes bore down on him, filled with open scorn and whispered hatred. Even now, though he stood with the Holy Promise in his hand, they looked at him as if he were filth criminal.

And in answer, he only smirked back at them as if to say: Fuck you all.

He raised the glowing parchment high, its radiant script spilling golden light across his face. And with no hesitation, he spoke.

"By the Holy Promise," Razeal’s voice rang out, sharp and cold, echoing through the coliseum, "I make a new law. Anyone who dares call me a rapist I will kill them. The only thing I demand is this: the Church of Light will not interfere when I do so."

A ripple of silence cut through the air like a blade.

"If your God is true," his smirk widened, venom in every word, "then your Church will respect this holy order. But if your god is nothing more than a fake, a hollow fraud shithole, then you’re welcome to defy it. I won’t complain. But don’t expect me to show mercy."

The parchment glowed brighter in his hand as the oath solidified.

"I won’t stop anyone from speaking what they want. Say it. Whisper it. Shout it. You are welcome. But remember if I catch you, I will kill you. Old, young, man, woman, priest, knight it won’t matter. Your corpse will be the proof of my promise. So if you have the guts to insult me, then don’t whisper like cowards behind my back." His voice rose, cutting through the silence like thunder. "Say it to my face. I dare you."

As his final words left his lips, the parchment burst into fragments of golden light. The shards drifted upward, dissolving into the air, vanishing as if absorbed into the heavens themselves. And then

A weight crashed into every believer present.

The decree was carved into their souls. They could feel it. His words.. his threat were now law, etched into every holy scripture, every divine tablet, every sacred relic across the Church of Light. None could deny it. None could erase it. Unless ofcourse defying holy promise.

Razeal’s smirk lingered as the last golden particle vanished.

From the side, Celestia studied his sode face. Her platinum eyes flashed with something almost uncharacteristic: amusement. She had expected him to use the Holy Promise to clear his name outright. To forbid the very word rapist from being spoken. To use divine authority as a shield.

But instead, he had done something entirely different.

He hadn’t silenced them or just begged for forgiveness. He hadn’t hidden behind the God of Light’s authority.

He had dared them to call him what they pleased and staked his response on fear, blood, and his own strength.

Celestia’s lips tugged upward ever so slightly. He’s not solving the problem. But... he’s making it his own. And for that, she could not help but be impressed. He’s... somewhat like me, she thought, entertained.

From further back, Nova’s lips split into a grin of her own. Her earlier fury had cooled, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of recognition. I misjudged you again, little brother. But I can’t hate it. That’s... exactly how a Virelan should act.

Marcella, ever the calm mask, adjusted her glasses with a faint gleam of approval in her eyes.

Merisa, however, only pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Why," she muttered under her breath, "are all my children like this?" First Nova, now Razeal both reckless, both arrogant, both utterly unresonably stupid to core. And yet, despite herself, a soft chuckle escaped her lips.

Arabella’s expression twisted. What an absolute idiot. Of all the infinite ways he could have used the Holy Promise, this was what he chose? Not protection. Not absolution or power. A childish threat dressed in divine law. Is this what inbreeding does to their brains? No wonder the Virelans are insane. She shook her head, disgust curling her lips. Genes defeated before they even start.

The dukes said nothing. To them, this was beneath notice. A boy’s arrogance, nothing more. They had seen empire rise and fuck itself over and over again; one youth’s declaration was a ripple, not a tide.

But among the spectators the commoners, the knights, the lesser nobles the reaction was immediate and chaotic.

"What is this?!" one man barked, outrage in his voice. "Now we can’t even call rapists what they are?!"

"Are we supposed to call them then? saints?" another spat, fury boiling over.

Believers clenched their fists, their faces pale. They could say nothing the law was sealed in their souls. To speak against it would be to defy the very God they worshipped. But the unbelievers? They sneered openly, spitting on the ground.

"This is madness!" one woman shouted. "Holy Promise or not, no parchment can erase truth!"

And so, though hatred twisted their faces, they swallowed it.

They had just said it. When

"I warned you all."

A cold smile spread across Razeal’s lips as he slowly clenched his left hand still raised into a fist.

And then

Crunch.

The sound tore through the silence, and shadows rippled like liquid under the feet of those foolish enough to whisper the forbidden word. A heartbeat later, the ground beneath them convulsed. From the black pools of their own shadows, dozens of jagged spikes erupted upward.

The screams never had the chance to escape their throats.

The spikes impaled them in an instant through bellies, through lungs, straight through hearts and necks. Flesh burst. Bones shattered. Blood geysered in arcs across the seats, spraying anyone unlucky enough to sit too close.

When the shrieks finally came, they weren’t from the impaled they were from the survivors sitting nearby, scrambling away in horror as the victims were lifted off their feet like grotesque ornaments on black pikes. Men, women, young and old all left hanging like bloody trophies, bodies twitching, mouths frozen in soundless agony.

The metallic stench of blood flooded the arena.

[See, It’s good I saved you 100,000 mana for emergencies. Just in case things turned ugly,] the System’s calm, detached voice rang in Razeal’s mind. [And look it came to use. You should praise me now.]

Of course, that’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s your job. Well done you’re finally coming to some use, Razeal replied in his head.

And as for what he did just now. Never mind... there were no psychological emotions left in him after killing tens of people in the blink of an eye.

He had killed many before not just people, but millions of different creatures across system space. Some were even humanoid, like that beautiful woman, an A-ranked opponent he had slain countless times in countless ways.

So this?

Ten’s of corpses skewered in front of the empire’s greatest? It was nothing.

If anything, the way the crowd recoiled, the way their faces twisted in revulsion and fear, made him want to laugh.

He stretched out his only remaining arm, blood mist still drifting in the air, and his voice rang through the coliseum without the aid of spells, carried by sheer will.

"I told you all. Anyone can say whatever they want about me. That hasn’t changed. But from now on, there will be consequences."

His eyes cold without any emotions whatsoever.

"And it won’t be just the weak who pay. Even those stronger than me if you dare to spit on me or dare to call me what I am not.. I promise you will suffer the same fate. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I never forget a face. And I never forgive."

He lifted his chin, his expression sharpened into something cruel, something unyielding.

"Everyone who wrongs me will pay. Many already have and many remaining. But the list is long, and I welcome more names. So go on scratch that itch you all have. Try me. And see how far you get."

His words crashed through the arena like waves of iron.

The coliseum went utterly silent.

The coliseum was silent. Every eye fixed on his face, every expression twisted with fury. Hate and revulsion radiated from the crowd even from those who once ignored him, considering him beneath their notice, already punished enough. Now, just because of his words, His very defiance felt like a personal challenge to their dignity. You don’t dare. That’s what his words said.

Their rage burned, but they restrained themselves. None spoke. The weaker ones, who had already witnessed his strength, knew well enough that crossing him meant death. Yet even the strong, the confident ones who believed they could kill him, stayed their hands. Why

Because they all knew: to challenge him now was to make an enemy forever. And Razeal’s words weren’t empty. He would hunt them down, whether it took days or years.

And above all, they saw something that made them hesitate even more.

The dukes.

Maximus Luminus. Seraphina Faerelith. Arabella Dragonwevr. None of them moved. None of them reprimanded him. Not even Celestia, the Imperial Princess, spoke against his actions.

If those towering figures remained still, why should anyone lesser risk themselves?

And so, though hatred twisted their faces, they swallowed it.

Well, technically speaking, Razeal hadn’t broken any law. The Holy Promise had been invoked, and he’d used it exactly as permitted. By the church’s doctrine, what he did was perfectly legal.

But the thing is the whole world does run on church rules. There is empire too.

And by imperial law? He had just slaughtered citizens of the empire, in open daylight, during a sanctioned duel, under the eyes of dukes, nobles, and even the Imperial Princess herself. That should have been treason of the highest order.

Yet Celestia stood there. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t punish him. She didn’t even acknowledge the blood-soaked bodies still hanging in the arena like grotesque decorations. She simply... looked away.

Her silence was an answer louder than words.

He’s being favored.

That thought echoed through every mind present. Commoners, priest, warriors, even the nobles themselves all realized it at the same moment. This wasn’t justice. This wasn’t balance. This was bias, pure and shameless.

And none of them could complain. Not openly atleast not when Celestia’s authority still pressed faintly over the arena like a weight ready to crush anyone who dared raise their voice.

It was maddening. Unreasonable. But it was reality.

"Let me heal your arm."

Celestia’s calm words broke the silence as she stepped closer, her eyes falling to Razeal’s severed right arm.

Razeal still had that same cocky smile plastered on his face, glaring at the crowd like he was daring them to breathe wrong, but Celestia wasn’t focused on his defiance. She wasn’t thinking about the wasted Holy Promise either. She was simply watching the way he held his own cut-off arm awkwardly under his right armpit, pointing at the spectators with his left as though mocking them.

He looked ridiculous like that, she thought half bloodied, one-armed, grinning like a lunatic. And yet... he looks kinda fine.

Yeah like He really is kind of crazy, she mused, shaking her head.

Her gaze softened slightly.

She could see he had some powerful healing ability every new wound from the fight was already gone. But his arm hadn’t healed. Maybe he wasn’t at the level yet where he could restore it himself.

"No need."

Razeal shook his head firmly. He glanced down at the severed arm, then casually let it slip into the shadow beneath his feet. With a ripple of darkness, the limb vanished into his shadow storage.

Holding it around like a trophy was troublesome even for him.

Celestia’s eyes lifted slightly at that display. The shadows swallowed the limb completely, as though it had never existed. Impressive. But her gaze returned immediately to the empty space below his elbow. She still wanted to heal him.

Villey, Razeal muttered inwardly, why the hell isn’t my regeneration working? You told me I could even come back if my whole body was blown apart. What’s this bullshit? My arm’s gone and nothing’s happening!

[Host, there’s nothing wrong with your regeneration ability,] the System replied coolly. [The problem is your Obsidian Skeleton (S). It isn’t auto-regenerative. It’s an external structure fused into your body. Because your skeleton isn’t repairing itself, the rest of the tissues flesh, veins, nerves cannot regrow. Your body can’t complete its form without bone. Simply reattach or repair the skeleton of the arm, and the rest will regenerate normally.]

Razeal’s eye twitched. What the fuck?! Nobody told me that grafting an S-grade skeleton into my body would cut off my regeneration! It’s part of my body now, isn’t it? How the hell does that even make sense?!

[Premium products have premium maintenance requirements,] the System replied without shame. [Naturally, such enhancements won’t fix themselves with your "standard" abilities. They require specialized care.]

Razeal exhaled through his nose, forcing himself not to snap aloud in front of the crowd. You could’ve told me this BEFORE I lost an arm, brother Villey.

He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. Wait. You said even if I lose my head, I’d survive. That I could regrow everything. Was that a lie too?

[Not a lie it would if you had normal bones . But these premium products. If your skull is destroyed, your head won’t regrow. But good news: you can still survive without it... for about ten minutes. Your body can function without a brain in that window. If you don’t regenerate your head within those ten minutes, though, you’ll die.]

Razeal’s lips parted slightly. His mind conjured the absurd image of himself walking around headless, waving at people before keeling over like some grotesque puppet.

You’re telling me this NOW?! He wanted to grab the System by its non-existent throat. Damn it, if I’d known earlier

[Consider it a learning opportunity,] the System replied lightly.

Razeal pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, then refocused. Fine. Just tell me how to fix the skeleton. I don’t have time to play trial and error with this crap.

[Simple. Retrieve your severed limb. Re-bind the Obsidian Skeleton’s fragments into your structure. Once the skeleton is whole, your regeneration will take care of the rest.

"But how and will I be able to fix it myself? This isn’t some cheap metal t’s Obsidian Agony. A genuine SS-ranked unique metal" Razeal muttered in his head, his expression flat though his tone sharp. "You really think I can just weld it back together? Or maybe hammer it into place? Are you seriously that dumb, System?"

[Not quite, host.] The System’s voice came with the irritating calmness of someone explaining basic math to a toddler. [You’ll need a professional. Preferably an SSS-ranked craftsman or, better yet, the creator herself Zara. My personal recommendation is to ask her directly. After all, she created this metal; no one knows it better then ber. And long term, you should also learn to control the alloy yourself. You can’t run to her every time you break an arm, can you?]

Razeal’s lips twitched at the name. That woman? The memory of their last interaction crawled uncomfortably back into his mind.

"Fuck You Crazy Btch!" he had screamed at her with middle finger then and well. The words still echoed.

His chest tightened at the thought. "No chance another smith can do it? Anyone else? Because I really don’t like that woman. Last meeting with her was... let’s say ’painful.’ You were there, System you know. Right?" Even inside his own mind, his voice trembled slightly.

[I would still personally recommend Zara.] The System didn’t hesitate. [Other craftsmen might try, but none of them have experience with this metal itself. Obsidian Agony is unique. Forced experiments could destabilize the skeleton entirely. Side effects may occur mutations, internal collapse, or worse.]

Razeal exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. Figures.

A dull ache of memory pressed against him, but he shook his head violently. "Argh, whatever. I’ll deal with that headache later. For now..." He flexed his remaining hand slightly, feeling the weakness in his body. "...I need to leave. My body’s trashed. If I stay here, I’ll collapse sooner or later."

"Alright, I gotta go now," Razeal muttered, his tone light, almost careless. He ignored Celestia still standing before him, the dukes watching from afar, and the countless eyes fixed on him. Without a second glance, he turned his back on them all and started to walk away.

He barely took a single step.

"No. You aren’t going anywhere. You are coming with me.. home."

The words cut through the air like a verdict.

An aura descended vast, suffocating, absolute. It slammed into him, crushing down until his body refused to move. All the power he had fought for, every ounce of strength he had clawed out of blood, pain and suffering, was stripped to nothing in an instant. His limbs locked. His breath caught. He could not move even an inch.

Merisa’s eyes flared as she looked at his back, her face unyielding, her will like iron. There was no debate in her gaze, no room for refusal.

This was not a request. It was a command.

They said they’ll take him home today, so that means they will even if it has to be forceful.

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Hey guys! Almost 8k words today so definitely not lazy now, right? Thanks so much for reading 💖

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