CHAPTER 279: CHAPTER 278: AFTER ME?

"What the fuck?!"

Atlas’s voice cracked out into the green forest, the lush land of the dark continent, shuddering with the echo.

His chest heaved, sweat sliding down his temple though no heat pressed on him here. His pupils tightened, shrinking like a predator’s, the world narrowing to the impossible sight above.

{{{HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!}}}

The roar rolled like thunder, so deep it made the earth beneath him tremble. It wasn’t just sound—it was a weight, a force pressing into marrow and blood. Atlas’s eyes snapped up, his jaw going slack, breath caught in his throat.

A familiar serpent tore through the whiteness of sky. White scales like molten moonlight, each shimmering like steel dipped in frost.

The body stretched forever, too vast for his mind to map, and yet every coil burned into him like fire against bare skin.

A crown of horns jagged backward, like mountains uprooted and nailed into its skull.

And the eyes—gods, those eyes—three endless suns of frostfire, staring down at him with a hunger older than storms.

Jormungandr. The betrayer of dragons. The mother of nine disasters.

His blood froze, every vein carrying the echo of the day he first saw her. That same crushing awe. That same primal terror.

Atlas swallowed hard. "...what in holy hell..."

The words barely left his mouth before another voice ripped through the storm.

"Atlas!"

He blinked, body jerking back, as though pulled out of drowning water. His vision shifted, blurring the serpent into smoke.

In the blink of an eye, the endless sky fractured, and the white serpent was gone. Only the wasteland remained—the storm raging at his side, black winds chewing sand into glass.

He was back. Back in Hell.

And Lidia was there, panting, her crimson hair sticking to her cheek in the storm, eyes wide with something between panic and awe.

Atlas staggered, touching himself, running a hand down his torso. His skin. His ribs. His pulse thrummed under it.

He remembered—the moment Veil swallowed him whole. Shadows digging into him, mouths gnashing against his bones, eyes chewing at his soul. Yet here he stood, intact.

"What... happened? Where is Veil?" His voice tore out sharp, demanding an answer even he wasn’t ready for.

Lidia frowned, confusion spilling over her face. "...don’t know. It looked like... your body absorbed him. Or he went inside your skin. But... before that, he told me something..."

Atlas’s hands snapped to her shoulders, shaking her hard enough her teeth rattled. "Veil? What the fuck did he say?"

Her breath hitched, dizzy from his grip. "He... he said, you owed him one. So just... be patient."

Atlas froze. His heartbeat rattled his chest. A memory surged—when they stood in the palace, before the war with Eli. Veil had wanted something. He’d started to ask. Atlas remembered silencing him, putting it off, too consumed with Loki’s fall.

Now it came back, jagged and raw.

"...he told me he wanted to evolve," Atlas muttered, hand pressing against his chest. He felt it there—the faint thrumming of something not his own, a shadow curled like a beast at rest. "...but he needed my help."

Silence stretched. The storm hissed around them like snakes whispering. Atlas took a long breath, head tilting back, jaw grinding.

"You do you, Veil. Just... don’t start eating my organs and shit," he muttered. The words sounded flippant, but underneath was steel. He couldn’t afford to lose control—not now.

Time pressed on him like a blade against his throat. He had no clue what game Veil was playing, but the key—he needed the key. Exchange it with Odin. Gain the Amrit. Bring Loki back.

Every second burned.

Atlas straightened, rolling his shoulders. "...so now I’m the owner of this land and shit. How do I summon Aurora?"

Lidia’s expression shifted—confusion dissolving into sudden joy, her lips curling in relief. Her voice lifted, light despite the storm. "...just use me as the conduit. She’s bound to me, and I’m bound to her."

Atlas’s brows furrowed. "...just like that?"

"Yup," she said with a sharp nod, pressing her palm over the mark on her chest. Her mana surged, flowing into the contract symbol etched in her skin.

It flared, lines of violet light spilling outward, sketching a circle beneath her feet.

"You just need to give me permission. As you’re the owner now."

Atlas watched, skeptical but cornered. He gave a short nod. "...fine."

Lidia inhaled, her chest rising, her voice deepening with weight as the spell took hold.

"I summon—the one who is bound to me. The one who has part of my soul. The one who bargained with her own essence. I hereby summon the Slayer. As a conduit taking Atlas’s will—Aurora, come to me!"

The land beneath them shook. Atlas stiffened, the vibration like knuckles rapping against his ribcage.

It felt like someone knocking—at his door, his house, his very being. He stood at the center of it, heart of the domain, while Lidia stood at the threshold.

A choice. To open or deny.

Atlas’s eyes narrowed. He nodded. "...let her in."

The spell flared, light spearing upward in jagged beams. Purple fire arched across the barren plain, tearing open a hole. A rift yawned wide, edges sizzling with raw mana.

Voices echoed from the tear—urgent, frantic, layered with familiarity.

...hurry, hurry! The gates are open! Atlas did it!...

Atlas braced as the rift stretched. And then—her. Aurora. Silver hair whipped in the mana winds, golden eyes sharp even through exhaustion.

Her staff clutched in her hand—splintered, cracked, groaning under strain. Blood streaked her forehead, running over her cheek. Her armor torn, scars marking her chest and arms.

She stumbled through. Atlas lunged forward, catching her before she collapsed. The weight of her body hit his arms, too light, too fragile for the Aurora he knew.

"Atlas..." she gasped, eyes burning with relief. "...oh, thank the gods....."

"What happened?" His voice was low, rough.

She shook her head, pushing herself upright, urgency blazing through her fatigue. "No time. Let Azazel in. Close it fast."

Atlas glanced up, brow furrowing. The rift stretched further, shapes stumbling through. A crimson demon with broken horns—Azazel—half his body scorched, one arm gone.

Behind him, a massive green form, bloated and scarred—the lord of Babylon. Others too, demons and beastkin, falling through in chaos, blood trailing every step.

Atlas’s eyes hardened. "...come!" he roared, authority crackling in the air. The word hit the rift like a command, pulling survivors through. They spilled out, crying, broken, their bodies collapsing onto the wasteland.

Azazel knelt, coughing blood, his eyes blazing with desperation. {Lord... thank you. I held as much as I could but—}

A flash.

A beam of light lanced through the rift, burning everything it touched. The screams were instant, bodies unraveling into ash within seconds.

"Close it! Close it now! He’s coming!" Aurora shouted, staff raised.

Lidia’s jaw clenched. She cut the flow, the circle dimming. The rift shrank, crackling, sparks snapping as reality tried to stitch shut. But—

Two golden arms burst through. Gauntleted, glowing, gripping the rift edges like clay. Muscles swelled, lightning crawling over armor. The rift screamed as it was forced wider.

Atlas’s eyes narrowed. He launched upward, wings of authority flaring at his back. He needed to see who the fuck had dared.

The hands pulled, stretching reality until a body stepped through. First the gauntlets, then the shoulders, plated in golden armor. Hair, bright as sunlight. Eyes—white, glowing, searing. The man’s voice rolled across the storm.

...You. I have been searching for you.

Atlas’s lip curled. "I’ll ask once. Who the fuck are you? And why are you searching for me?"

The man tilted his head, voice rumbling with contempt.

Cheeky. Father told me you were different. Those eyes—I don’t see fear in them....But you will, oh you will...

Atlas’s aura cracked, air splitting. "I gave you one chance. Now—be gone."

His fist blazed with his dominion’s force. He swung, his knuckles colliding with the man’s chin.

The blow detonated, shockwaves ripping the storm into fragments, lightning scattering.

The man’s head snapped back. But he didn’t fall. He only smiled. Blood glistened on his lip. His teeth shone through the grin.

My, my....such a rude guy. I’m coming for you, Atlas. I will find you. Before anyone else, I will find you—and present your heart to my father. You hear me?

The rift shuddered, closing despite his grip. Golden fingers slipped, dragged back by the collapsing tear. His white eyes locked onto Atlas until the last sliver shut.

Silence.

Atlas hovered, fists tight. The storm calmed for a breath, as if Hell itself had paused.

He descended slowly, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. Aurora stood, staff trembling in her grip, her body barely upright.

"...now," Atlas growled, eyes burning. "Mind telling me what the fuck happened? Who that fucker is?"

Aurora exhaled, her shoulders shaking. Relief and dread tangled in her voice. "Atlas... it seems you’re gaining rapid fame in the heavens."

Atlas’s glare sharpened. "Get to the point."

Her golden eyes met his, weary but steady. "...demigods, Atlas. Demigods. They’re after us. After you."