Celestial Bloodline

Chapter 947: I’d rather vanish myself

Nathaniel slowly lifted his bloodshot cyan eyes to stare at the battered figure he had just hurled away effortlessly—struggling to rise and face him with his head held high. A defiant smile lingered on Kyle’s lips, despite the fact that he was on the brink of death.

He watched as Kyle tilted his head.

Then Kyle let out a low chuckle—one that looked painfully out of place considering his condition—before speaking hoarsely.

“W‑What…?”

“Want… to tear me apart?”

Nathaniel’s eyes contracted with madness when he saw Kyle’s body begin to fade into snowflakes, blending with the remnants of the array drifting through the air. Even until the end, Kyle had a smile on his face as he met Nathaniel’s eyes, quietly watching him rush forward with an expression so crazy it screamed that the man had lost all reason.

Kyle whispered with cold eyes.

“Dream on.”

“I’d rather vanish myself.”

In the end, the only thing Nathaniel could grasp were wisps of cold snowflakes that pricked coldly and sharply against his skin. He quickly searched for Kyle’s soul, intent on tearing it apart, but there was nothing left—no trace, no sign of life whatsoever.

Amidst the frenzy, he failed to notice the small wisp of golden energy, disappearing into the thick mist surrounding the clearing at blinding speed, drifting straight toward the exit of the Layer of Three Ancients.

Nathaniel stood rooted to the spot for a long time before bursting into laughter.

“Did he really sacrifice his body, his soul—his very life—just to create an array to save his friends and defeat me? Hahaha, that’s it? He died for just this? How foolish! How could someone be so, so utterly foolish?”

“Dying just like that… after struggling like a bug that refused to be crushed for so long?”

He laughed, but there was no mirth in his eyes as he gazed at the clearing filled with drifting snowflakes. They were pretty, yet they stirred in him an urge to erase their existence from every corner of the world.

“But… how could you die without my permission? How dare you! Just how!”

He shouted again and again before finally calming down and turning his gaze toward the open door that held the floating flower.

Straightening his clothes, he stepped through the doorway with a faint smile, leaving behind a faint, chilling whisper.

“This isn’t over yet. Mark my words. I will reverse time for you. I will make you watch the deaths of all your beloved people, and still I won’t kill you. Just wait for me to rise to the highest place and do it effortlessly.”

An hour after he vanished, behind him, in the pitch-black darkness drifting out from the door that Ares, Cassian, and their team had originally exited through to arrive at the clearing, a hum echoed. It was followed by a bare foot stepping out of the doorway.

The instant the figure stepped out of the door, a powerful tremor rippled across the entire Layer of Ancients, as if announcing the birth of something extremely terrifying.

A pair of obsidian eyes, each marked with two vertical purple slits, gleamed from the darkness that followed the towering figure, threatening to consume everything as they fixed on the door Nathaniel had entered.

A deep, commanding voice—emotionless, yet laced with a power that could bewitch any being—echoed softly through the air.

“Who’s truly foolish?”

Azazeal brushed his hand over the small snowflakes, which blackened and lost all color at his touch, his calm eyes empty.

“You didn’t even realize he played you.”

“I can’t believe I… lost myself in the darkness due to a fool like you.”

He chuckled, thinking of that annoying silver-haired man, and—strangely enough—did not pursue Nathaniel, who had already lost consciousness after touching the flower, allowing him to absorb its power.

“Since I’m a bit late, I’ll let you finish what you started. Anyway, it’s no fun ending you so easily, like a little insect that can’t even struggle. I’ll drag you down when you’re at your highest—you think you’re the best.”

“I can still… hold on until he comes.”

As he finished, Valance’s disheveled form and the other nine Rulers—those who had been hurled into the mist by the array earlier—finally returned to the clearing. Even after grasping the natural laws in the mist, it still took them this long to find their way back.

This was the difference between them and Kyle—he who was favored by nature itself.

Seething, Valance swept her gaze across the clearing, her expression darkening.

“Where’s that bastard?!”

She snarled.

“Nathaniel had better have killed him—because if not, I will—”

Her words barely left her lips before her gaze fell upon the floating, unknown tall man in the distance, and she was struck dumb. The darkness swirling around his dark robes moved like a living entity, yet it was so mesmerizing that awe seized her completely—she had already fallen to her knees without her knowledge, her head bowed deeply in reverent submission.

And it was the reaction when she hadn’t even seen his face—only his tall, floating figure and the broadness of his back.

One by one, the other Rulers behind her followed suit, dropping to their knees.

The few Rulers who still retained clarity couldn’t understand what was going on.

Why were they bowing before an unknown figure, just after feeling his Celestial aura?

However, they received their answer when the natural fear emanating from someone far stronger—hidden beneath the calm aura—finally revealed itself, raw and undeniable, shaking them to their core. The darkness surrounding the tall man seemed to thrum with life, pressing against their minds.

Azazeal opened his mouth, and a deep, resonant voice cut through the air—not a question, nor a request, but a command.

“Be my servants.”

His tone carried absolute authority.

“I lack a few, ever since Kyle killed the Shadow Generals. This incessant voice screaming in the back of my mind—to destroy the world of the Celestials—is tiresome. Destroy your world for me.”

“All of it. Destroy it.”

“Kill all living beings. Continue until I am done here and leave this realm. Naturally, you can gather servants of your own by enslaving their souls in the same way.”

The Rulers’ knees sank deeper into the ground as the weight of his power bore down on their very souls. They could only shiver as the eerie darkness seeped into their bodies, completely enveloping their souls without even seeking their consent.

With the foreign knowledge flooding their minds, it became clear to them that if they dared to disobey the man before them—or even tried to escape—their souls would be crushed into dust. He could see their every action and even control them if he wanted.

Ultimately, even their consciousness was completely eroded, turning them into living puppets who knew nothing but to kill under his command without anything in return.

This was the power of a true Ruler with a crown—a Ruler who had reached the End.

All others beneath him, no matter how strong, were insignificant in comparison.