CHAPTER 133: THE SECOND WAIL?

The Lust Tier’s right hand pulsed with the gathered singularity, the sky above Salissic Vein twisting into a vortex of elemental chaos.

The colorful spectrum—violets of void, crimsons of fire, azures of storm—refracted endlessly, drawing in ambient energy from the battlefield like a black hole feasting on light.

The air hummed with overwhelming power, a symphony of raw force that made diviners stagger, their senses flooded by the mana surge. Void Hunters clutched their Curio Items tighter, eyes watering from the intensity, while even the Aequorian horde paused, their chaotic psyches quivering under the weight.

Anyone with the gift to sense energy—mages, priests, or attuned warriors—felt overwhelmed, minds reeling as if staring into the heart of a star.

The pillar grew dominating, refracting near-endless energy that warped reality around it, bending space into folds where time seemed to slow.

The Lust Tier’s blindfolded helmet tilted skyward, its valkyrie-like form hovering defiant amid the storm it conjured.

Its radiant voice pierced the roar, a speech imparted with the weight of ancient wisdom, echoing across the battlefield and into the minds of allies through subtle psychic threads.

"This world is in need of justice," it proclaimed, the words carrying an unseen yet domineering force that bolstered defenders and unnerved the horde, infusing the air with a palpable aura of inevitability. "The nature of evil does not reside within the mind and body, for thoughts alone are mere whispers in the void, and flesh is but a vessel, fragile and fleeting.

"Evil—is born in action, in the choices that scar the world, the deeds that twist fate’s threads into knots of suffering. It is the hand that strikes, the word that condemns, the silence that allows darkness to fester.

"And with every act of evil, there arises an equivalent reaction, a cosmic balance that demands reckoning, justice."

The refraction intensified as reality began to blister.

"Justice is not a gentle breeze or a fleeting mercy; it must be enacted, forged in the fires of resolve, to be fulfilled. It is the blade that cuts through deception, the light that exposes the hidden rot.

"Yet who can wield such a blade? Who dares to stand as the arbiter? Only the evilest evil itself—for they alone comprehend the depths of depravity, having plumbed its abyss.

"They alone can judge the actions of evildoers, mirroring their cruelty with unyielding precision, turning the venom back upon its source.

"Justice is not kind, for kindness would dilute its purity, nor is it evil, for evil revels in chaos without purpose.

"It is a demand, inexorable and absolute, that must be met in a world filled with evil—a clarion call to restore equilibrium, to excise the tumor before it consumes all." The most delightest of grin could be perceived on the Lust Tier’s face. "Thus, the role of my existence in this plane of existence."

As the speech concluded, the pillar of singularity glowed blindingly, a cascade of light erupting outward.

The radiance enveloped the battlefield, binding anyone and anything exposed—defenders felt a momentary disorientation, but the Aequorians were locked in vulnerability, their chaotic forms frozen mid-lash, illusions shattering like glass under the glare.

The light persisted for an entire hour, a sustained cataclysm that fatigued all beneath it, sapping strength from the horde while the Constructs, shielded by Kivas’s blessings, pressed their advantage unseen.

When the light finally dimmed, the battlefield lay in ruins—but victory was unequivocal.

The Hollow Aequor horde was no more, their forms dissolved into wisps of shadow and brine, the ground scorched and pitted with craters of void residue.

In a thunderous roar, the people of Salissic Vein cheered, war cries echoing from walls to horizon.

Soldiers embraced, diviners collapsed in exhausted relief, and Void Hunters raised weapons skyward, the bastion’s concentric rings alive with celebration.

Morgina, staff planted firmly, could do nothing but laugh in disbelief of what had just happened.

In Vaingall’s hallowed sanctuary, the group watched the screens fade from blinding light to triumphant scenes.

Oizys slouched her back, her black feather wings rustling as she crossed her arms. "Did you really concoct a spell that dominating? Wiping out the horde in an hour—impressive, even for you."

Samael smirked, her draconic horns glinting as she lounged against a pillar. "Seeing is believing, Ozzy. That is all I can say."

"The beautiful light is not exactly the very thing that vanquished the Hollow Aequorian." Kivas chuckled softly, "The ’spell’ covering the battlefield was a heavy debuff—limiting senses, perception, strength, and willpower.

"No damage was inflicted from it, just extreme vulnerability. While that happened, the Limbo Tiers, having been coated with a spell to counteract the exact debuff, handled the real work—dismantling the horde one by one with precise care behind the curtain."

Samael pouted adorably, her red-black hair swaying as she crossed her arms. "Way to strip the magic from the performance, Kivas. I even put an effort into that speech!"

"You really did put an effort into that speech."

"To be honest, that speech was there to ensure that everyone is focusing on the light." Samael shrugged. "The effect won’t be as severe if they didn’t even realize the massive reality-bending performance happening above them."

Oizys grinned slyly. "Doing all that is more impressive than a slow annihilation spell, in my opinion."

"I bet that her performance will result in a great deal of rumors being circulated," Kivas pointed out.

But before the celebration could rage further, a second wailing shriek pierced the horizon, sending panic rippling through Salissic Vein.

Cheers faltered, war cries turning to dread as the sound echoed—not the chorus of wretched sinners, but something hollow, like wind through empty caverns.

Soldiers gripped weapons, diviners chanted anew, and the air thickened with renewed fear.

After all that effort, another horde?

Kivas tilted her head, halo dimming thoughtfully. "That wailing feels different—hollow, not as insidious and malevolent as before."

Samael narrowed her eyes at the screens. "... I think I happen to know what is going on."

The Lust Tier reacted instantly, its amalgamated wings—webs of crimson and shadow—unfurling with a snap that echoed across Salissic Vein’s outer walls.

It launched skyward, leaving Morgina, the Limbo Tiers, and the bastion’s defenders below, their faces upturned in a mix of awe and dread.

The Limbo Tiers, their black dust forms flickering, turned to the shaken soldiers and Void Hunters, urging them in unison with airy cadence, "Return to your posts. Rest. We will handle this. All is under control."

Their words, laced with goodwill, quelled the rising panic, coaxing the weary to fall back as the Constructs maintained their vigilant spread.

In Vaingall’s hallowed sanctuary, the divine holographic screen shifted to the Lust Tier’s POV, tracking its ascent through turbulent skies.

Winds howled past its towering form, needle-like legs trailing void wisps as it soared higher, the scarred battlefield shrinking to a patchwork of craters and ichor below.

As time went on, the wailing intensified—a dirge that vibrated the air, not with the chaotic screams of a horde, but a singular, hollow lament that chilled the hottest of fire.

And as the source loomed into view, Kivas and Oizys froze, dread washing over them like a cold tide.

There, thousands of titanic humanoids made out of a comprehensive void and the sea, their legs splitting into smaller humanoids, each fragment birthing tinier forms in an infinite cascade of flesh and shadow.

However, these figures also sprouted from something, which are massive tendrils that were larger than a huge amount of them combined, which branched from larger tendrils, all converging into a colossal, pulsating mass—a living mandelbrot of madness that defied geometry.

And it all seeped out from a massive rift that appeared from the wounded sky.

The rift wept viscous black ichor, its presence warping space into kaleidoscopic distortions that bent light and gravity.

Eyes—countless, glowing, and unblinking—studded the forms, staring without malice but with an alien curiosity that pressed against the mind like a physical weight.

The actual size of this entity beyond the sighted scenery was ultimately unknown.

On the screen, the Lust Tier approached cautiously, its blindfolded helmet steady despite the rift’s gravitational pull. Its radiant voice echoed, calm yet resonant. "It’s been a while, Norn."

A single humanoid part of the many maddening ones, towering yet eerily swift, extended from the fractal mass, its hollow voice reverberating like a chorus of voids. "Who dares approach? The essence... familiar, yet twisted beyond recognition."

The Lust Tier hovered unflinching, wings flaring. "I am the Endless Dragon."

Norn’s countless forms quivered, a deep chuckle rippling through its tendrils, shaking the rift’s ichor like a storm-tossed sea. "No wonder it is familiar. The core persists, though reformed."

The Lust Tier’s helmet tilted, its voice edged with curiosity. "Norn, the Great Abyssal of Spacetime—what draws you here?"

Knowing that this massive eldritch horror is merely one of the many is extremely shocking to Kivas, to the point that she can’t imagine if there is any being that is even more ineffable than this.

Norn’s tendrils writhed, the rift bleeding profusely, droplets evaporating into shadowy wisps. "My kin’s antics piqued my interest—a disturbance in the abyss. A familiar essence, incomprehensible, and many intricacies, all called me forth."

The Lust Tier’s tone softened, a trace of gratitude weaving through its psychic cadence.

"Thank you for manifesting afar from the bastion. Your presence alone would slay most—those without resistance or vitality crumble just beholding you."

Norn’s eyes blinked in unison, amusement shimmering across its fractal expanse. "You’re welcome, Endless Dragon. Your wisdom, imparted long ago, lingers in my depths. I still uphold it and will wield it as needed."

In the sanctuary, Kivas spun toward Samael, shock etching her features. "What’s your relationship with this Great Abyssal Norn...?"

Samael’s gaze drifted, a faint smile curling her lips as her red-black hair swayed. "Norn was one of my former students."

Kivas and Oizys stood frozen, jaws slack, the revelation casting a heavy shadow over the chamber, as Yoiglah’s amber eyes in an expected reaction.