CHAPTER 384: CHAPTER 373: FOURTH LAYER

The air itself was being devoured.

Wind howled like the cry of a rising storm, ripping across the scarred plain. Dust and embers spiraled upward, dragged into the vast, black mouth that had torn open the world — the Gate, the gate to the Fourth layer. Its edges pulsed like molten veins, swallowing light, swallowing sound, swallowing hope.

Atlas dug his boots into the ground, muscles locking as the pull intensified. His fingers closed tighter around the haft of his axe — the metal humming, resisting, as if even it feared what lay beyond that yawning abyss.

Lara stood a few feet away, her blue hair whipping violently around her face, the same hue as the child’s. The same hue as her mother’s once was — that realization flickered through Atlas’s mind before he crushed it down.

Her golden eyes locked on his. So much unspoken between them, sharp as glass and fragile as memory.

Lara clung to Atlas’s arm. The resemblance was unmistakable. Lara’s voice trembled — not from fear, but from something older, deeper.

"Atlas..." she managed, eyes darting between the child and him. "Who was she?"

The question landed heavier than the wind.

He looked away. Couldn’t answer. His jaw tensed. Breath burned in his lungs.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But it was impossible. It had to be impossible.

The guide’s voice coiled in his mind — smooth, venomous, cruel.

{{{{{{...So you didn’t even let go of your own step-sister...}}}}}}

Atlas’s grip on the axe faltered.

’Shut up.’

He bit the words inside his skull like a prayer.

The Gate screamed — a deep bass note that rattled bones. The child pressed against Lara, clutching at her sleeve, and Lara’s confusion morphed into something raw. Fear, sorrow, disbelief.

Atlas forced his thoughts into focus. "Not now," he barked over the roar. "We’ll talk later. Stay close!"

But even as he said it, he knew later might never come.

Gradually The ground fractured beneath their feet, thin rivers of crimson light spilling from the cracks. The pull of the Gate became unbearable — like invisible chains yanking them toward its core.

Lara staggered. He caught her arm.

Her skin was cold — frostbitten by proximity to the void.

Then Aurora appeared, dragging herself across the cracked terrain. Her robes were torn, blood streaking her left cheek. The half-light made her look almost spectral — part saint, part ruin.

She shouted over the wind, "We should LET GO! Let it take us!"

Her voice wavered but didn’t break. "If Michael opened the Fourth Layer, he must have done it for a reason. He’s buying us time!"

He trusted him , Michael— the one who could open gates to Heaven or Hell with the same casual gesture. And now, somewhere beyond that spiraling vortex, Michael waited. Still holding the enormous door open for them.

Before Atlas could reply, another figure emerged through the gale — robes snapping like banners, silver beard glinting.

"Aaaaaa Aurora," Merlin called, laughing against the chaos. "You finally see it, don’t you? — and my true path into Hell, a path different and more efficient than yours!"

His laughter cracked, bright and terrible, echoing through the storm. "You tried to find salvation, Aurora! But I— I found a doorway. A code!"

Aurora’s eyes widened. "Its not the time master...flukes doesn’t count as achievement..."

"Fluck?" Merlin’s grin stretched thin. "No, my dear. Transcendence."

The air bent with magic. Symbols flared around his wrists, sigils bright enough to blind. The Gate responded, howling louder — an orchestra of ruin.

Then Eli’s voice broke through, calm but firm, slicing through chaos like a blade of thought. "No, old man. It wasn’t you who cracked it. It was Lara...stop spouting bullshit."

Merlin faltered mid-chant. "W...What?"

"It was her calculations," Eli said, stepping forward despite the suction. His cloak whipped like wings. "She mapped the intersections of the layers. Without that, you’d have burned before even reaching the threshold."

Atlas turned toward Lara, pride flickering through exhaustion. He laughed — short, disbelieving, genuine.

"I knew it," he said. "I knew you’d find a way."

Lara’s cheeks flushed crimson, her hair half-veiling her face. "Stop it," she muttered, embarrassed even in the face of annihilation. "You always— you always do this."

"Do what?" he teased, voice rough but tender.

"Make me feel like the world isn’t ending," she shot back.

He smiled. "That’s because it isn’t. Not yet. Until you’re here, you will keep the world alive, keep me alive..."

The wind shrieked louder. Dust cut across their faces like blades. For an instant, the Gate seemed to breathe — inhale, exhale — and Atlas swore he could feel the pulse of something alive inside.

Then Gabriel landed beside them — wings beating once, twice, golden feathers catching stray embers. His face was drawn tight with effort.

"My lord, Enough talk," he ordered. "Michael can’t hold it much longer. We have to enter, now!"

He looked at each of them in turn — the warrior, the scholar, the heretic, the siblings bound by curse and destiny. "The Fourth Layer isn’t waiting."

Atlas nodded slowly. He could feel the pull of the Gate against every inch of him, whispering promises of truth and destruction both.

He grabbed Claire’s wrist, then Eli’s, then Lara’s. Their hands locked, an unspoken vow passing between them.

....Family.....

The word reverberated in his skull like a prayer.

As the vortex surged, the ground gave way beneath them entirely. The world became wind and light and sound.

---

Flashback

A quiet courtyard, long before hell and prophecy. Lara sitting under a tree, sketching constellations. He’d watched her then, the golden light soft on her blue hair. She’d looked up suddenly, laughing. They were children.

"Brother, promise me— we will marry each other, and you will never leave me..."

He’d promised.

Now that memory burned like iron in his chest.

---

The Gate consumed them.

For a moment, there was no time — only descent.

Atlas felt the wind become water, then fire, then something beyond both. Reality stretched thin. His lungs burned; his skin crawled with energy. His axe vibrated, resonating with ancient power, hungry.

He reached for Lara’s hand again — found it. The warmth grounded him, a spark against oblivion.

They fell through storm and silence.

Through layers of existence folding inward.

Through echoes of screams that might’ve been their own.

When it ended, there was no sound — only a strange, immense stillness.

The ground beneath was glass. Black, reflective, shimmering with imprisoned light. The air hummed with latent energy — the heartbeat of the Fourth Layer.

Atlas staggered upright, still clutching his axe. The others landed around him in slow disarray — Gabriel crouched, feathers singed; Eli groaned, brushing dust from his robes; Lara coughed, blue hair tangled across her face.

Aurora was already on her knees, whispering something — a prayer, or maybe a curse. Merlin stood apart, eyes wild, taking in the impossible landscape.

Above them, the Gate pulsed — still open like a monstrous eye watching.

Lara turned slowly. "Where are we?"

Aurora looked up. His face had gone pale. "The Fourth Layer," she said softly. "Limbo’s forge. The place between choice and consequence."

Atlas exhaled, slow and deliberate. He could feel the pressure in the air — not heat, not cold, but a weight that pressed against the soul itself. Every breath tasted of iron and memory.

Something distant moved — a shape within the horizon, fluid, shifting. The light refracted around it, bending reality. He tightened his grip on the axe, every instinct screaming caution.

Then the voice came.

Low. Resonant. Feminine.

"Welcome home, children of the broken dawn."

It echoed through the valley like thunder underwater.

Atlas turned, scanning the shimmering expanse. "Who’s there?"

The voice laughed softly. "You know me. You’ve all carried my name in whispers."

Lara’s eyes widened. "No... that can’t be—"

"Its....its Lilith," Gabriel said grimly. " That voicemail I would never forget about it."

A figure began to form from the dark horizon — tall, radiant, wrapped in threads of molten shadow. Her eyes burned gold, same as Atlas’s. Same as the child’s.

Atlas’s pulse spiked. The guide inside him stirred, whispering in awe.

{{{{{{Ah... Mother of Rebellion. You finally meet her.}}}}}}

Atlas froze. "This isn’t possible."

Lilith smiled. "Everything impossible has already happened....my son."

The words struck harder than the wind ever had. His throat constricted, but no sound came. Lara’s fingers brushed his arm — anchoring, uncertain.

The others stepped back, instinctively forming a circle, weapons drawn. But Atlas didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Lilith tilted her head, gaze sliding to Lara, then the child behind her. A faint, knowing smirk curved her lips. "Ah. So this is the echo that fell backward through time."

Lara flinched. "Echo...?"

"The child," Lilith said. "A consequence unraveled early. Born of love... or defiance."

Atlas’s breath caught. "You mean she really was—"

"She exists because you dared the forbidden," Lilith said, stepping closer, her feet leaving no mark on the glass ground. "Even the layers bend for those who love against the pattern."

Silence fell. The others dared not speak.

Lara looked at Atlas — questions in her eyes, fear beneath them.

He couldn’t answer. Not yet. The truth burned behind his ribs, alive and dangerous.

Lilith’s gaze turned toward the still-open Gate. "Michael’s doing, I assume. He tears holes where angels were told never to tread. Tell him—" her tone shifted, something almost like sorrow lacing it, "—that what he seeks here has already chosen its vessel."

She reached out — and brushed her fingertips against Atlas’s temple. The touch was light, but the force behind it made his vision flare white.

Memories flooded — fragments of the lives in the palace, of atlas when he was a child, and the same memories in his past life, on earth. Lilith standing beside him as he got drunk. Kicking the empty bottle on his path. The reason, the very reason of his death. His transmigration.

Then it was gone.

He staggered, gasping.

Lilith smiled again, faintly. "Yes....it was me, now you finally know.."

The ground trembled. Lightning cracked across the distant horizon, black against silver skies.

Aurora finally found her voice. "Son? You....you were Henry’s first wife, atlas’s mother???"

Lilith’s answer was simple. "Aurorora.... you’re still with my son, bravo...I had a hard time erasing your memory...."

And with that, she began to fade, her light scattering into the air like embers caught in a dying storm.

"Welcome....welcome to the fourth layer, Everybody. And atlas, my son. We have more to discuss. So much more....but until then...."

They stood in silence.

Gabriel was the first to move, scanning the horizon with wary eyes. "W...we should move. Before the layer shifts again."

Merlin chuckled softly, madness creeping back into his voice. "Shift or not — it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Hell.... hahahaha!"

"Shut up," Atlas said quietly. His tone left no room for argument.

He turned toward the faint horizon where light and darkness mingled like oil. The Gate was gone now, sealed. No turning back.

Lara touched his shoulder. "What did she show you? Was she really your mother? The first queen of Berkimhum?"

Atlas hesitated. "Yes...she ...she showed me everything....fucking everything."

"Then tell me."

He looked at her — at the woman who had followed him into hell, who might have given birth to their undoing. His voice came low, cracked at the edges.

"I saw the truth, the truth that I think I was not ready for..."