Chapter 536
Theo did not answer.
He simply stood where he was—with his left leg shrunk to the size of a premature infant's limb born from a womb that had never been ready, with his right leg stretched long like the root of a tree searching for water beneath soil that had become far too dry, with his abdomen still split open, exposing his pristine white spine that pulsed faintly, with eye sockets no longer empty as the four symbols continued to revolve within his shattered retinas—and he resembled a tree whose roots had been severed, whose trunk had been hollowed out by termites, whose leaves had all fallen away, yet the tree still stood, still refusing to collapse because it knew no other way to be a tree except to remain upright.
"Y-You... you're not listening to me?" the youngest screamed, his voice rising once more, climbing higher like a child whose birthday cake had not only been carried away by the wind but also trampled beneath the feet of older siblings who had never wished him a happy birthday, rising like the voice of someone shouting into a well far too deep, only to realize no echo would ever return because that well had been dry for a thousand years.
"RESPOND, YOU FILTHY CREATURE! RESPOND! DON'T JUST STAND THERE WITH THOSE EMPTY EYES AND THAT OPEN STOMACH AS IF NONE OF THIS MEANS ANYTHING!"
He stepped forward—one step, two steps, three steps—and raised his right hand once again, his slender fingers curling into claws while the last remnants of Sa lingering at his fingertips throbbed desperately like a heart that had run out of blood.
Yet his feet halted before the fourth step.
Not because he chose to stop, but because he felt something in the air—something he could neither see nor touch nor hear, yet something every cell in his weary body could sense, something every authority within his chest, now beginning to crack, could perceive, something that caused every memory of lonely birthday celebrations to begin flowing out of his mind like water bursting through a shattered dam.
"W-What... what is this?" he whispered, and his once blazing crimson eyes no longer burned; only ash remained, ash stained red but devoid of warmth, scattered across his pupils like dust upon a marble floor that had never been swept.
"I can feel it... something is moving. Not around me... but... inside you."
And in the outside world—upon the cracked earth of the Land of the Gods, fractured by the tremors caused by Aldraya's awakening, within the air that still quivered from the summons of the Twelve Highest Angels, among pillars of atonement leaning to the left and marble columns beginning to creak like bones on the verge of breaking—the youngest instinctively stepped backward.
Not because he was afraid, but because he saw something upon Theo's face—upon the face without eyes, upon the face whose lips had been torn apart in three places, upon the face whose skin had turned bluish like the corpse of someone left unburied for far too long—something he had never witnessed before.
A smile.
Not the faint smile Theo usually wore whenever he believed himself superior. Not the wide, blade-like smile he displayed while unleashing his seven counterattacks. It was a tiny smile, far too small, one that was almost impossible to notice because lips torn in three places could no longer form a perfect expression. Yet it was there. It existed like a light at the end of an impossibly long tunnel, like hope within a room swallowed by darkness, like a little child smiling peacefully in sleep despite having a birthday cake as hard as stone and no one ever wishing them a happy birthday.
"Y-You're... smiling?" the youngest whispered, his voice emerging not from his throat but from deep within his chest, heavy and profound like the echo of a vast underground chamber too immense to be filled by a single voice. His dim eyes struggled to ignite once more, searching for the remnants of rage hidden within the deepest corners of his heart, yet all he found was exhaustion—an exhaustion he had never allowed himself to acknowledge, for he was the sole ruler of the Land of the Gods, and rulers were never permitted to grow weary.
"Why are you smiling? What's so amusing? What could possibly make you happy when your body has been destroyed like this? What—"
He stopped, because Theo opened his mouth.
It was no longer an intact mouth, but one whose lips had been torn apart in three places, whose teeth were drenched in blood, whose tongue had been bitten at the tip after enduring unbearable pain in silence for far too long. And from that ruined mouth, from a throat dried by endless thirst, from lungs that continued functioning despite his ribs having become muscle and his muscles having become bone, a sentence emerged.
A single sentence.
Not a lengthy declaration like a monologue. Not a complicated phrase like a curse. Not beautiful like poetry. It was a short sentence—far too short—yet its tone resembled the invocation of an ancient ritual preserved within a sacred scripture whose faith had long since faded because no one remained who even remembered it. It sounded like both a prayer and a command at the same time, as though someone were speaking to something infinitely greater than himself, yet also to something that had always been a part of himself.
"I have let you remain silent long enough," Theo said.
Every word that left his lips did not sound like an ordinary voice. They resonated like the Bell of Eshvara struck within the Temple of Astramora after its guardians had long since vanished, like the Drum of Vael'Khur echoing through the Sanctum of Nareth abandoned by those who once interpreted its revelations, like the Holy Call of Eltharyn proclaimed from the Tower of Yechidah to followers who had long ago disappeared into the passage of time.
"Now... get to work."
Theo wore a faint smile after those words left his lips, as though nothing standing before his eyes truly deserved to be called a threat.
The winds sweeping across the Land of the Gods suddenly ceased, while every strand of Sa that had moments ago surged wildly under the youngest's command gradually slowed around Theo, as though their very existence had been forced into submission before something they could not even begin to comprehend.
Then, behind Theo's body, space itself began to unfold—not as a crack, not as a portal, but as a fold of consciousness that pulsed gently like the heart of a world awakening from an unimaginably long slumber.
From within it, the soft sound of tiny footsteps echoed.
"Most Honorable Great Author..."
The voice was gentle.
Far too gentle for a battlefield of this magnitude.
A moment later, a little girl stepped out. Her pale silver-blue hair flowed gracefully to her waist, reflecting a dim radiance like the moon sinking beneath a winter sea.
Her eyes gazed upon Theo without the slightest trace of hesitation.
Will had arrived.
The little girl approached him before gently embracing Theo's leg, as though even if the entire world were to collapse, nothing could ever shake her faith in the figure standing before her.
To be continued…