CHAPTER 65 — The Portal of Ashes
Space had never been silent.
Yet above Earth's orbit, where stars did not blink and planets were only points of cold light, a tremor passed through the void. A rift opened. First thin, like a scar in the dark, then wider, deeper, tearing through the fabric of the universe.
The Portal of Ashes had just opened.
It was vast, oval, rimmed with red light and grey smoke that did not dissipate in the vacuum. Fragments of rock floated around it, drawn by an invisible force, then cast back out in a silent breath.
The Djinn fleet emerged.
Ships of black stone, carved from obsidian and basalt, advanced in triangular formation. Their hulls were threaded with luminous veins, like hearts of lava. Dozens of flying silhouettes accompanied them — Archdemon-grade Djinns, their bodies half-human, half-ash and ember, their red eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Orion floated at the fleet's front.
He had no need for a ship. His body stood in the void, bare under the stars, his clothes drifting as if underwater. Around him, particles of light danced, forming a shifting halo. He did not move. He observed.
"We are in position," he murmured, addressing no one.
His voice did not travel through the void. But the Djinns around him heard it — a vibration, a thought, a command.
The ships halted.
The portal behind them closed slowly, like a lowering eyelid.
Before them: Earth.
Blue, calm, indifferent.
Orion stared at it for a long time. He had seen worlds born and die. He had crossed dimensions, manipulated particles that existed before the stars. Yet this planet, small and fragile, fascinated him. Because it housed beings who, despite their weakness, had managed to wound him, defy him, surprise him.
"I will not underestimate them again," he said.
---
On Earth, in an underground UAP control room, screens flickered to life.
The technicians did not immediately understand what they were seeing. Points of light, energy signatures, a gravitational anomaly just above geostationary orbit. Then a signal — ancient, powerful, terrifying.
"Dimension portal detected," announced a metallic voice. "Multiple Djinn signatures. Class: Archdemon."
The silence that followed was heavier than words.
Arthur D. Blackthorne stood at the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. He did not look at the screens. He looked at the void, as if he could see beyond the walls, beyond the ceiling, beyond the atmosphere.
"How many?" he asked.
"At least one hundred."
"And their leader?"
"Unknown signature. Particle manipulation — highly advanced."
Arthur did not move. His face showed nothing. But his fingers tightened slightly on his forearms.
"Send Karasuya."
An officer stared at him, surprised.
"Alone?"
"Alone. He is the only one who can survive in space."
"But… an entire fleet…"
"Karasuya is not a weapon. He is a force of nature."
Arthur turned to the central screen.
"Send him now."
---
Karasuya was already ready.
He needed no spacesuit. No helmet. No protection.
His body was a living anomaly. He could survive in the void, endure extreme temperatures, float through nothingness without ever losing consciousness. His Fumetsu, based on the manipulation of black holes and gravity, had made him as close to immortality as a human could be.
He stood on a launch platform, arms crossed, eyes lifted toward the sky.
His short, disheveled black hair drifted around his face in the wind. His grey eyes, dull in appearance, gleamed with a deep, almost hypnotic light. He wore no armor — just a long black coat, light, beating like a tired wing.
He was wrapped in bandages. They covered his arms, his neck, the lower part of his face. Only his left eye was visible — a cold, grey orb that had seen too much.
On his head, he wore a strange helmet. It resembled a pencil sharpener in shape — angular, metallic, with sharp edges and a single visor slit that revealed his lone eye. The metal was dark, scratched, marked by old impacts.
Over his heart, on the left side of his black UAP coat, the emblem was stitched: a large J, the symbol of the organization.
"They're waiting," he murmured.
He launched himself upward.
Without sound. Without effort. His silhouette lifted from the ground, then soared into the sky. Earth shrank beneath him, clouds became waves, air thinned, the blue of the sky darkened, then became black.
He entered space.
The cold enveloped him, but he did not feel it. The raw, unfiltered sunlight fell across his face. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again.
Before him: the fleet.
Dozens of ships. Hundreds of Djinns. And at the center, a silhouette of light and dust.
Orion.
The two regarded each other. No words. No gestures. Just recognition.
"Paladin," said Orion, his voice resonating in Karasuya's mind. "You are alone?"
"I am alone."
"You are brave. Or foolish."
"Both."
Orion smiled, faintly.
"I have no orders to kill you. Not yet."
"I do."
Karasuya raised his hand.
Space twisted.
---
Gravity reversed. Several Djinn ships were drawn toward a zone where matter no longer existed. Fragments of stone and metal floated for an instant, then disintegrated.
Archdemon-grade Djinns charged at him. He did not move. He let them approach.
When they were a few meters away, he spread his arms.
A gravitational wave flung them in all directions, like insects caught in a storm. Some vanished into the void. Others crashed against the ships.
Orion did not move. He observed.
"Impressive," he said.
"I did not come to impress."
"I know."
Orion advanced. His particles of light danced around him, forming a spiral. He extended his hand, and a hundred blades of light materialized around him.
"Neither did I."
The blades shot toward Karasuya.
He dodged them. Not by running, not by leaping — by altering gravity around himself. The blades passed through the space he had occupied a second earlier. He reappeared elsewhere, shifting reality like turning a page.
A ship exploded behind him. He did not look.
Orion was already behind him.
"Too slow," he murmured.
He struck him.
An open palm, charged with particles. Karasuya flew backward, tore through one ship, and stopped in the void, hundreds of meters away.
He stopped. He smiled.
"Not bad."
He raised his arms.
Around him, space tore open.
A black hole was born.
Not a lab-made black hole. Not an illusion. A miniature black hole, but real, devouring light, ships, bodies, particles. The Djinn fleet was shattered. Ships were swallowed. Djinns screamed, but their cries did not cross the void.
Orion was pulled in.
He vanished into the black hole.
Silence returned.
Karasuya floated, breath short, arms trembling.
"It's over," he murmured.
But something glowed in the darkness.
A light. First small, then larger.
Particles of light escaped the black hole. They were not drawn in — they passed through the black hole without stopping. They floated, gathered, and formed a silhouette.
Orion reappeared. His body was made of light and stardust.
"Stellaris," he said.
Karasuya looked at him, and for the first time, he felt fear.
"You are not a Djinn."
"I am what I am."
Orion raised his hand. The light particles surged, but they did not strike. They formed a barrier around Karasuya — a prison of light.
"You fought with honor, Paladin. I will not kill you."
Karasuya tried to move. He could not. The particle prison was too dense.
"What do you want?"
"For you to watch."
Orion turned toward Earth.
"The portal was not an attack. It was a diversion. While you were here, another fleet entered Earth's atmosphere."
"What?"
"The Paladins are already fighting on your own soil."
Karasuya clenched his fists.
"You haven't won."
"I know. But neither have you."
Orion vanished. His particles scattered, leaving Karasuya alone, a prisoner of light, floating above an Earth that was already burning.
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