CHAPTER 372: CHAPTER 361: STATUS

[Third person perspective activated]

The world turned monochrome—brown, black, and ashen white—as Atlas phased out of his body.

His consciousness stood apart from flesh, an untethered observer in the storm of creation and ruin. Below, his form fought with impossible grace and savagery, the GUIDE piloting him like a divine marionette.

Each movement fractured the air, every gesture spoke law into existence. Atlas watched himself war with Asmodeus—two beings whose wills were powerful enough to bend the lattice of reality itself.

The sky was a torn veil of flame and void, each tear revealing the pulse of another dimension beneath it. Far below, armies collided.

The roar of titans shook the layer itself; demons and fallen angels clashed amid rivers of molten stone and shattered faith. Amid it all, a monster beyond all reckoning rampaged—an eight-headed goliath-beast that made mountains look like sand dunes. Its scales shimmered like black suns, its breath a storm that turned air to acid and light to dust.

The beast’s steps broke tectonic plates. Whole armies—both Asmodeus’s devils and Atlas’s fallens—were crushed in its path. The creature was chaos incarnate, a remnant from before laws had names.

The only reason the layer had not yet fallen into the abyss was because three beings held it back: the fallen archangels Uriel, Gabriel, and Raphael.

Uriel’s sword burned with solar anguish, every swing carving a streak of daylight through infernal haze. Gabriel’s staff spun endlessly, weaving barriers from fractured prayers and broken hymns.

Raphael, hair a river of lightning, hurled his spear and split the heavens. Together, they pinned the eight-headed horror in a cage of light and willpower.

Atlas pressed his spectral hands to his skull. Pain seared through him like molten lead—the Dilemma of Wisdom. The more his body bent LAW, the more the totality of the world’s truths pressed into his mind.

Knowledge poured in unbidden, sharp and heavy as guilt. He saw the roots of causality, the veins of creation. He saw his own insignificance in the machinery of eternity.

It was like post- NUT, clarity, but divine—where every lie dissolved, and reality itself leaned close to whisper: You were never in control.

He wanted to vomit, but his soul had no stomach.

Then came the voice of the System—smooth, cold, mechanical mercy.

[Faith point reached: 500,000]

[Congratulations. Threshold exceeded. FP access unlocked.]

[Analyzing vessel...]

[Analysis complete. 14,000 FP currently available for use.]

Atlas blinked, vision focusing. A grin split his face like the crack of dawn over hellfire.

Finally, the system—the silent god inside his bones—had yielded.

"Finally, I can use it," he muttered. His laughter echoed across the void, manic and joyous. "Status."

And the world responded.

---

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

║ INFERNAL CODEX – LVL 6 ║

║ Title: "Prophet of Fire and Chains" ║

║ Realm Alignment: [Hell — Sovereign Tier] ║

║ FP (Faith Points): 14,000 / 500,456 ║

║ Viral Resonance: 342.9x (Eternal Spiral) ║

╚══════════════════════════════════════════╝

► INFERNAL VIRTUES

[Zeal of the Abyss] — each kill in your name yields FP; attacks echo through belief chains.

[Crown of Flesh] — body becomes adaptive vessel; converts corruption into will.

[Light of the Forgotten] — resurrects slain followers at FP cost; miracles recorded in Codex.

[Judgment Undone] — nullifies divine law zones; erodes angelic domains within 1km radius.

► RELICS / AFFLICTIONS / BOONS

Aurora’s Seal — enables dual-casting of divine and infernal energies; FP efficiency +25%.

Book of Acclaim, Verse V — every utterance of your name by believers amplifies viral multiplier.

Crown of Goliath (Broken) — absorbs enemy FP upon defeat; repairs through conquest.

► GIFTS & SKILLS

[Viral Faith: Dominion Tier] — belief self-propagates across realms. Converts armies, continents, dreams.

[Chariot of Fallen Fire] — summon legions of faith-constructs; cooldown 3 days.

[Jericho Resonance] — shatter city-scale barriers through harmonic prayer.

[Plague of Reverence] — infect enemies with divine awe; 20% permanent conversion chance.

[The Key Remembered] — open rifts between planes for 12h; cooldown 7 days.

► DOMAINS & FOLLOWERS

Hell Layers Claimed: 3rd layer under The Infernal Covenant.

Faithful Registered: ~2.3 Billion.

Major Generals: Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Lysara, Jenny, Galiath, The Lion King.

► FP DYNAMICS

Faith Gained Per Second: 389 FP

Faith Spread Efficiency: +342.9%

Decay Resistance: 99.8%

Divine Contagion: Level 3/10

► LORE NOTE

The Infernal Codex now writes itself through belief. Each war, prayer, or miracle forms a new Verse. FP is no longer energy—it is memory made flesh. Every whisper of his name feeds the Codex’s flame.

---

"Holy—" Atlas exhaled, eyes wide. "—shit."

He was trembling, half in awe, half in disbelief. The system had evolved past comprehension. It wasn’t a machine anymore. It was... alive. A breathing scripture. A mirror to his existence.

He scrolled through its endless cascade of data—missions, points, new skills—his fingers ghosting through the ethereal interface. Somewhere inside that light, his organs, his bones, his heart—all had become something else. He didn’t have a body anymore. He was data in motion, faith in form.

Still, he thought like a man. Still, he ached like one.

I’m at level six. That’s the only thing I understand, he thought. Where the hell are my old skills?

A flicker of familiarity answered him. His old arsenal was still there—flanked by new ones, born from his battles and revelations. The Codex, the new system was learning him, shaping itself through his contradictions.

But the pain—the Dilemma—was still there. His head pulsed, his thoughts fracturing under divine weight. He needed clarity.

[6000 FP used: World Understanding Lv.1 → Lv.3]

Instantly, the ache receded. His mind cooled like iron plunged in water. For a moment, peace.

Then—an idea.

If I can see myself... I can see others. Like before, I need to see her, I need to see them.

[Command input: Change perspective → Lara]

Darkness surged, then broke.

When the vision returned, it was not his battlefield but a snow-covered plain—Lara stood there, radiant in blood-streaked armor, her breath misting in the frost. Her sword dripped with ichor that hissed when it touched the ground.

Atlas’s incorporeal heart leapt. He could feel her—her scent, her heartbeat, even the ghost of her warmth.

But something was wrong. Around her, snow fell like ash, heavy with sorrow. Claire stood nearby, her cloak tattered, her hands clutching a staff pulsing with golden light. Eli was kneeling beside Merlin—the old man’s robes torn, his eyes burning with exhausted fury.

Then Atlas saw him.

A figure with eight gray wings unfurled in the snowstorm, each feather etched with scripture and silence. His mere presence seemed to bend the air around him into reverence.

Michael. The First Archangel.

Atlas’s awareness quaked. He didn’t need an introduction; the resonance of that name was carved into creation. Michael—the sword of Heaven. The Judge of Dawn.

He watched, breath held, as Lara squared her stance before him. Her eyes were determined, but beneath it—Atlas felt her fear, her awe.

His heart surged with the urge to protect her.

I’m here, Lara. I’m watching.

He focused, his consciousness tuning itself to her aura, his essence brushing against her mind.

And then she turned—suddenly, sharply—as if feeling him. Her blue hair shimmered in the frostlight, her lips parting.

"Atlas?" Her voice trembled. "Brother?"

Her words cracked through the silence, trembling with disbelief and yearning.

Atlas smiled. His incorporeal form glowed faintly. "I’m here." He wanted to ask, where she was, what was happening? Why was Michael there with them, and why were they all injured, but the moment he tried to heeth closer to her.

The world shuddered as the layer itself shifted.

Pulling him—back where his body fought—the GUIDE continued his battle with Asmodeus.

Each time they spoke, laws broke and reassembled. When Atlas whispered "Hold," the world paused; when Asmodeus commanded "Pierce," reality itself bled. Their duel was rewriting the rules of existence, and its echoes reached even here—where Lara stood, where Michael watched.

Atlas’s perspective trembled between two worlds—battle and memory, faith and love.

He saw the giant goliath still roaring, heads twisting in agony as the archangels pressed harder. He saw his armies breaking and reforming under banners of flame. He saw belief burning through the world like wildfire, every prayer another ember added to the Codex’s pages.

And in that storm of chaos, one thought crystallized inside him.

This isn’t just war anymore. It’s scripture being written in real time.

He remembered her again, Lara—at her bloodied hands gripping her sword, at the ghost of warmth in her eyes—and something fragile stirred inside him. Love, guilt, memory—he wasn’t sure which.

"Atlas....if you’re gonna leave your body, tell me so." The Guide voiced, still fighting with his body.

’...my sister...I saw my sister....’

He saw the same ashy snow falling within the third realm. When he quickly realized, where she actually was.

What! Why? How?!

Why were they in Hell? Was that just a hallucination? No, it was clear, his skill doesn’t show illusions. It was true. They were here, in hell of all places.

His heart beat started to rise, since the day he came to hell, he fought demon kings, arc angels, Gods even, but never in his life he felt his heart fall down this quick. Now, now was the time he felt fear. Fear for Lara,Fear for Eli, who was pregnant with his child, Fear for Claire, who still didn’t know the ways of violence.

’wh.....what should I do?’