Ethan's breath came in ragged gasps, pain blooming sharp and deep in his chest.

And in that moment, he understood—this wasn't something mortal strength could match.

He stood frozen for a heartbeat.

Then he raised his head, eyes burning, and shouted, voice like thunder cracking across the battlefield:

"All of you—channel your power into me! Now!"

The command rang out like a war drum, shaking the very air.

The slumbering soul of the army stirred awake.

Fairies, Dragonkin, mages, warriors—every soldier raised their hands in unison.

Streams of energy burst from their bodies, thousands of beams converging like rivers rushing into a single sea.

All of it surged toward Ethan.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—!

An indescribable force ignited inside him.

His blood roared. His soul sang.

The air around him compressed into a shimmering shell of light, runes flickering across his skin like stars caught mid-pulse.

Ethan tilted his head back, voice low but clear enough to make the world tremble:

"Then let's see—if a god can withstand the will of mortals!"

He raised both hands high.

The energy of the entire army gathered above him, forming a colossal sphere of light in the sky.

Its brilliance outshone the sun.

The air froze.

And just as Ethan prepared to hurl it—

A cold fingertip touched his forehead.

Time stopped.

The wind died. Sand hung motionless in the air.

Ethan's pupils dilated in shock.

His nerves screamed. That touch wasn't just cold—it carried a pressure that defied comprehension.

Not power.

Law.

"I warned you," the voice came, slow and sonorous, like a bell tolling from the heavens—final, absolute.

"You lowborn creatures, crawling up from the gutter planes… you were never meant to be here."

The man's face was inches away.

Silver-white hair spilled over his shoulders. His golden eyes glowed with a light that didn't belong to this world.

Behind him, white wings unfurled—silent, immense.

Each feather shimmered with divine fire, yet the wind they stirred made no sound.

"You defeated nothing," he said, voice calm and merciless. "What you fought were slaves of the Sky Citadel. The bottom twenty layers. Not even gatekeepers."

He leaned in slightly, a flicker of disdain in his gaze.

"And above them… every layer could crush your so-called 'legion' without effort."

Ethan tried to move, to lift a hand—but his body wouldn't respond.

Even breathing felt like it had been severed.

The system interface blinked wildly in his vision:

[Warning: Unknown Entity]

[Data Parsing Failed]

[ALERT: EXTREME DANGER!!!]

Ethan's heart pounded.

Even the system couldn't scan him.

This… this was beyond any Tier. Beyond classification.

THOOM!

A deafening blast.

The man's power exploded outward in a storm, hurling Ethan like a rag doll.

Before he could recover, the energy sphere he'd gathered was crushed—shattered into a thousand motes of light.

The air burned.

His bones vibrated with the impact, his veins on the verge of rupture.

"Damn it—!" Ethan growled, forcing himself upright—only to be slammed again by another wave of pressure.

The figure hovered above, untouched, unmoved.

Like a god who'd grown bored of judgment.

"Remember this," the voice echoed through the wind, cold and final. "All who blaspheme… will be erased."

He raised his hand.

White wings spread wide.

And the sky ignited with holy fire.

Just as the divine light was about to swallow the earth—

—something snapped.

The man's expression froze. His body jerked violently.

The golden radiance around him fractured, unraveling into jagged shards of light.

"What—?"

His form twisted, distorted by some unseen force, as if yanked backward by invisible chains. And then—

He shattered.

Gone in an instant, scattered into the air like dust.

The wind rushed back into the world.

Ethan collapsed to the ground, chest heaving like a war drum.

He stared blankly for a moment, then finally exhaled, long and slow.

"So… he couldn't leave his assigned layer in the Sky Citadel."

"If he could… we'd all be dead."

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, a strange expression flickering across his face.

It wasn't relief. It wasn't triumph.

It was—clarity. And fear.

He understood now.

Even with all they'd gained, his strength was still that of a mortal.

"Still not enough," he murmured.

He turned to rally the army, to order a retreat—but then—

Whoosh—!

A streak of white light shot past him.

Ethan spun around.

"Andona?!"

She was already airborne, hair whipping behind her, eyes glowing with an eerie gold.

Her movements were stiff, absolute—like someone answering a call they couldn't resist.

"Stop—!"

Ethan roared, but his voice was torn apart by the wind.

Andona flew straight toward the torn sky above them,

rising higher, burning brighter—

until the light swallowed her whole.

"Damn it!" Ethan cursed under his breath, launching after her without hesitation.

He didn't think. He didn't pause.

Behind him, the Emerald Castle army surged with a ripple of energy.

Their armor flared with light, and one by one, they followed—streaks of brilliance chasing their commander.

Together, the entire legion pierced the sky,

and stepped into a higher world.

…

When Ethan opened his eyes again,

the ground beneath him was no longer sand.

It was a sanctum of white-gold.

The sky above shimmered with soft light,

and the air itself hummed with a faint, melodic resonance—the low, haunting song of Angelic power.

Every breath carried a rhythm—gentle, but edged with danger.

"This is… Layer 22?"

He looked up.

The heavens stretched high and mirror-clear.

And there, suspended in the center of a sea of light,

was Andona.

She hovered motionless, both hands cradling a golden sphere of energy.

Ethan's chest tightened.

The light radiating from that energy sphere was so pure, it made his skin crawl.

Without thinking, he surged forward and grabbed Andona's arm.

She stood at the heart of the sanctum's glow, her expression distant, as if still caught in the pull of something far beyond them.

"Andona, what are you doing?" he asked, voice low, edged with tension.

"This is Sky Citadel territory. Every layer we climb brings us closer to stronger Lords. If you keep charging ahead like this—we could lose everything."

Andona didn't answer right away.

She simply shook her head, slow and deliberate, her eyes shimmering with something strange.

Not zeal.

Something deeper. A knowing.

"My Lord… no," she said softly, but with a certainty that left no room for argument.

"That man just now… he wasn't the Lord of this layer."

Her voice was calm, but it struck like a blade.

"He only projected a sliver of his will through the Angelic current here. He came from higher up."

Ethan blinked.

He knew what flowed in Andona's veins—the blood of the Angel King. Her connection to this kind of power was unmatched.

If she said it wasn't him, then it wasn't.

Silence settled over the sanctum.

Ethan extended his spiritual sense, sweeping the area.

Nothing.

No hostility. No presence. Not even a whisper of threat.

Andona slowly raised her hand.

In her palm, the golden sphere hovered, pulsing gently. Inside, light flowed like feathers caught in a current.

"This power… belongs to this layer," she murmured.

Her fingers closed around it.

Snap.

The orb burst.

In an instant, the entire space was flooded with white light.

But it didn't burn.

It washed over them like a tide of sanctity—pure, cleansing, absolute.

...