Chapter 99: Clash of Divinities (Part 4 - The Abyss and the Sky)
While the deck of the Wrath of Heaven was stained with blood and ice in the peripheral combat, the center of the dreadnought had become an exclusion zone. A square kilometer of reinforced steel where no mortal, not even the elite of the Golden Generation, dared to approach.
There, Great Ancestor Valerius, the supreme authority of the Purple Light Sect, and Samael Morningstar, the newly ascended tyrant of the desert, measured the weight of their respective existences.
Valerius, at the peak of True Saint Stage 3, was a walking furnace. The Law of Pressure and the Stellar Fire he mastered warped the space around him.
Samael, at Stage 1 Peak, was an optical anomaly. The Odachi of the Eclipse in his right hand exuded a devouring black void, while from his left arm flowed a thick, red, liquid aura: the Law of Blood crying out for a sacrifice.
"I have lived three hundred years, boy," Valerius's voice reverberated, making the ship's masts tremble. "I have seen empires rise and fall under my fire. Do you think a couple of newly discovered laws make you invulnerable?"
Valerius did not wait for an answer. His body became a blur of blinding, orange light.
Samael felt the warning from his Crown of the Eternal Dawn. His Arcane Processing slowed time by twenty percent, but Valerius's speed was so absurd he barely managed to react.
The Great Ancestor appeared in front of him. His right fist was wrapped in a solar fire so compressed it looked solid.
"Incandescent Atlas Palm!"
Samael didn't try to block. The weight of that blow would have pulverized his arms.
[Event Horizon Deflection].
Samael's violet eyes flashed. In a microsecond, he opened a spatial micro-rift, a galactic violet fissure, directly in the path of Valerius's fist.
The solar fire punch slammed into nothingness. The rift absorbed the kinetic and thermal force, and instantly "spat" it out twenty meters away, behind Valerius. The stellar fire burst from the other side of the rift, burning the back of the Great Ancestor's own ceremonial cape.
But Valerius was a monster of war. Ignoring the burn on his back, he used the momentum of his missed punch to spin on his axis. His left leg, wrapped in gravitational pressure, delivered a brutal kick to Samael's side.
CRACK!
Samael was launched a hundred meters away, crashing through three thick steel walls of the ship's superstructure as if they were papier-mâché. He coughed up blood, feeling three fractured ribs. His crown's Unyielding Mind prevented the shock from stunning his brain, but the physical pain was undeniable. His Laws were supreme, but his body and synchronization were still unrefined; he wasn't used to processing information at this level.
Samael rose from the rubble of molten steel. The viscous, red blood of his atavistic Law bubbled over his wounds, welding his ribs together in a second with a sharp, suffocating pain.
"You lack refinement," Valerius mocked, floating slowly toward him, gathering more fire in his palms. "You are a diamond in the rough, but you are still rough. You have the authority, but I have the experience."
Samael spat a clot of blood onto the metal floor. His dragon pupils narrowed.
"Experience won't save you from hunger."
Samael disappeared.
Valerius immediately raised his Atlas Wall, expecting another teleportation.
But Samael didn't teleport. He used the [Blood Stride], burning his own vital essence as spiritual fuel. The Ascension Sacrifice temporarily tripled his physical strength. His body broke the sound barrier by a factor of ten.
He appeared above Valerius, mid-air. The Odachi of the Eclipse descended in a 360-degree slash.
[Crimson Moon Slash].
It wasn't a simple sword strike. It was a highly pressurized shockwave of blood, as fine as a spatial tear, but with the weight of a raging ocean.
The impact crashed against Valerius's Atlas Wall. The invisible shield cracked, but this time, the weight of the forced blood penetrated. The crimson shockwave tore through the shield and struck the Great Ancestor's chest, cutting deeply through his stellar fire armor.
Valerius stumbled back, hissing in pain. The golden blood of a Saint welled up from his chest.
But the physical cut wasn't the real danger. The Slaughter Poison injected by Samael's technique began to corrode the meridians near Valerius's wound, emitting a thick, black, suffocating smoke.
"Damn leech!" Valerius roared, realizing his passive healing was being blocked.
Forcing his immense Stage 3 Qi, Valerius isolated the crimson poison, burning it with his own internal fire at the cost of terrible pain. The difference in cultivation allowed him to resist the corrosion, but the insult was unforgivable.
They launched themselves at each other.
The dreadnought's deck became a cosmic shredder. They were two blurs, one of orange starlight and one of black void and crimson blood, moving so fast that the Origin Realm experts fighting at the edges of the ship barely caught the thunderclaps of their clashes.
Valerius tried to crush Samael with columns of downward pressure and pillars of fire. Samael didn't try to block the brute force. He wove his survival by "stitching and unstitching" dimensions, using the Synergy of his Law of Space to make Valerius miss by inches.
When Valerius managed to land a glancing blow, Samael's blood boiled, regenerating the damage instantly, but consuming his vitality in the process. The Law of Blood was powerful, but it exacted a tithe for every miracle.
The fight was a dance on a razor's edge. Samael was losing ground. His control over the four laws was overwhelmingly demanding; a spiritual migraine began to pierce his Crown's defenses.
"You're unrefined!" Valerius yelled at him, blocking a slash from the Odachi and launching a burst of pressure that slammed Samael into the deck, cratering the steel. "You don't have the foundation to sustain that power!"
Samael rolled to avoid a flaming boot crushing his skull. He propelled himself upward, channeling the Law of the Void into his free hand.
[Star Dissolution Palm].
Samael struck Valerius's left arm as it tried to grab him.
There was no explosion. Upon contact, the fire Qi around the Great Ancestor's arm began to break down into nothingness. The seed of Void injected into his meridians acted as an absolute seal. Valerius's left arm went numb, unable to channel energy, wrapped in a white and violet static.
"Agh!" Valerius staggered back, clutching his useless arm, astonishment and fear flickering in his eyes for the first time. "You... you're erasing my Law!"
Samael, breathing heavily, red steam rising from the vents in his armor, smiled through the blood staining his lips.
"I told you the abyss is hungry."
Valerius's pride, the pillar of his existence, cracked. The humiliation of being wounded, poisoned, and partially sealed by a newly ascended brat was the final trigger. The Great Ancestor's rationality vanished, replaced by a pathological need to erase Samael's existence.
"Game over, desert scum!" Valerius bellowed, his voice losing all nobility.
Valerius raised his only functional arm, his right, toward the sky. Toward the immense pulsing core of the divine artifact hanging over the dreadnought.
Through the spiritual link the Sect maintained with the weapon, Valerius forced a suicidal synchronization.
A beam of purple energy, thick as a skyscraper, descended from the Purple Heaven Hammer and merged directly with Valerius's aura.
The Great Ancestor howled, his body glowing with an intensity that threatened to incinerate his own flesh. For an instant of absolute terror, Valerius's power was artificially amplified. He broke the limit of Stage 3. He grazed, for a cosmic millisecond, the boundary of True Saint Stage 4.
The dreadnought's deck buckled beneath his feet. The air within a kilometer radius vibrated, crackling like dry wood.
The gravitational pressure emanating from Valerius was so obscenely massive that Samael was crushed to the ground.
The Patriarch's knees slammed into the reinforced steel, splintering it. His arms trembled under the weight of a thousand invisible mountains. The Void surrounding him seemed to be suffocating under the sheer conceptual mass of the enemy attack.
"Die with your pride, Morningstar," Valerius growled, his eyes bloodshot, gathering the power of a dying sun in his right hand for a final strike of annihilation.
Miles away, in the subterranean chamber of the Star Tree, the entire citadel trembled beneath the echoes of the clash in the sky.
Seraphina had left an ice clone in the battle, but her real body, still recovering from ascension, remained in the cradle, shielding Celeste.
Celeste Morningstar, the little baby with stellar heterochromia eyes, looked up at the stone ceiling of the cave. She didn't see the rock. She didn't see the gray sky. Through the mysterious inheritance of her atavistic lineage, she felt her father's dull pain. She felt the cosmic oppression crushing him.
Deep within Celeste's tiny soul, the Black Destiny—that primordial, chaotic, anomalous force that the System itself feared and which had required divine seals to be contained in Samael—stirred.
Celeste didn't understand cultivation, supreme laws, or war tactics. She only understood that a harsh light was hurting her father's comforting darkness.
The little baby raised her right hand toward the cave ceiling.
With her chubby fingers, she squeezed her fist in the empty air.
She didn't grab the air.
Without knowing it, on the most inscrutable and abstract level of reality, Celeste Morningstar closed her little hand around a thread of golden causality. It was the spiritual thread, the mystic connection linking Great Ancestor Valerius to the Purple Heaven Hammer.
Celeste squeezed her fist tightly, her cheeks puffing out in an infantile pout of frustration.
"Gag... bwake!" the little girl babbled.
On the deck of the Wrath of Heaven, Valerius was a fraction of a second away from unleashing the annihilation strike upon Samael.
But at the absolute climax of his amplified power... the Purple Heaven Hammer failed.
It wasn't mechanical sabotage. It wasn't a magical counterattack.
Simply, the divine artifact "coughed" spiritually.
The causal connection linking it to Valerius was severed in a sharp, unnatural way. The massive flow of purple Qi descending from the artifact to the Great Ancestor stopped, and for a catastrophic microsecond, reversed.
The amplified energy within Valerius's body, losing connection with its source, rebelled.
Valerius's eyes widened, absolute surprise freezing his features. He spat out a massive mouthful of golden blood. His technique collapsed violently inside him, shredding his own meridians and crushing his lungs.
The oppressive Stage 4 pressure vanished like a balloon with its knot cut.
The soldiers and experts of both sides on the dreadnought felt as if a titan had been lifted from their shoulders.
Samael, his knees still driven into the molten steel of the deck, felt the weight of the world disappear.
But he felt something else. Across dimensions, across blood, he felt the echo of his daughter's effort. An echo of childish pride and instinctive fury resonated in his chest.
Samael raised his head. His dragon pupils narrowed into thin lines of annihilation.
He saw the opening. He saw Valerius coughing blood, stunned, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind.
[FATAL ENEMY ERROR DETECTED. EXECUTION OPPORTUNITY: 100%]
Samael didn't hesitate. He ignored the pain in his ribs, ignored the spiritual migraine. He channeled the entire arsenal of his heresy into a single point. The Law of Space for speed, the Law of Blood for brute power, the Law of the Void for absolute penetration.
"Secret Dragon Art: Horizon Fang!"
Samael launched himself forward. There was no wake. There was no sound. It was a missile of pure darkness.
Valerius, still choking on his own blood, saw death approaching. Desperate, he raised his only good arm, trying to form a last-second starlight shield.
It was a futile effort.
The Odachi of the Eclipse, coated in absolute Void and densified with Primordial Blood, pierced the hasty light defense like a hot knife through butter. The immense curved blade penetrated Valerius's celestial armor and buried itself deep into the center of his chest.
The inertia of the Horizon Fang was seismic. Samael didn't stop upon skewering him; he dragged Valerius twenty meters across the deck until he slammed him brutally against the dreadnought's main steel mast.
CLANG!
The impact made the entire ship groan and tilt dangerously in the air.
Valerius was pinned to the mast, the black blade protruding from his back.
Silence fell over the center of the battle once again. The dragon and the titan were face to face.
Valerius coughed more blood, weakly grasping the blade impaling him. His eyes, filled with incredulous pain and dawning terror, looked at the mask of pure tyranny that was Samael's face.
Samael brought his face close to the Great Ancestor's, inches away. The smell of ozone, blood, and void was suffocating.
"If you ever try to touch my daughter's sky again..." Samael whispered.
With a cruel, slow twist of his wrist, Samael turned the Odachi inside Valerius's chest. The Patriarch injected a torrent of corrosive, dark Void Qi directly into the Saint's exposed core.
"...I will eat your soul."
Valerius didn't scream from physical pain. He screamed from existential terror.
He felt the Void injected by Samael begin to devour his three-hundred-year cultivation, his vital essence, his very existence. The stellar flames comprising his Law began to extinguish, absorbed by the absolute nothingness of his executioner's sword.
The void injected by Samael from the Odachi's blade didn't just poison Great Ancestor Valerius's meridians. It began to eradicate his existence from the inside out.
Valerius, impaled against the dreadnought's main mast, let out a shriek that held nothing human. Pure, terrifying entropy consumed the core of a man who had ruled the skies for centuries. His stellar armor turned gray, his flesh began to wither in real-time, and the fire surrounding him was devoured by nothingness.
Samael looked him in the eyes, his face splattered with the Ancestor's red blood—hot, mortal blood like any other man's. With a sharp, ruthless motion, the Patriarch yanked the Odachi out.
That was the trigger for the end of the world.
Upon withdrawing the blade, the void contained within Valerius's chest imploded. At the same time, the immense Purple Heaven Hammer, floating above the ship, permanently lost its spiritual anchor to the Saint. The massive runic energy, charged to wipe out an entire mountain range, destabilized in a fraction of a millisecond.
The conceptual implosion of Valerius's body collided directly with the blowback of the artifact's energy.
The explosion wasn't fire; it was a detonation of pure kinetic force and blinding ultraviolet light. The impact was so catastrophic that the Wrath of Heaven, a Mid-Heaven Grade war dreadnought forged to withstand meteor strikes, groaned with the voice of a thousand metallic beasts and split cleanly into two colossal halves.
Samael was at the absolute epicenter.
There was no time for spatial deflections or the Veil of the Eclipse. The shockwave hit him point-blank. His obsidian armor, blessed by defensive runes, shattered into hundreds of fragments. Samael was thrown like a ragdoll. He felt at least six ribs shatter, piercing his own lungs. His flesh burned under the raw radiation of the blast, and he vomited a horrific amount of thick, red blood. The simultaneous use of the Four Supreme Laws had already left his body on the verge of multi-organ failure; this explosion almost cut the thread of his own life.
Gravity claimed the steel leviathan. The two immense halves of the dreadnought, engulfed in flames and erratic lightning, began to spiral down toward the desert.
On the tilting, burning deck, the Golden Generation and the Elders lost their footing. Kael drove his sword into the steel to avoid flying off, while Lilith and Astarion, who had gone up to finish off the mercenary Gorth, clung to the shattered railings.
"We're leaving!" roared Samael, crawling across the burning deck. Every word cost him a trickle of blood. His Saint aura flickered dangerously, his life draining away in torrents.
Violeta didn't hesitate. With her right eye glowing with suicidal intensity, she activated the Bridge Between Worlds. But transporting twenty Origin prodigies, five Half-Saints, a Saint, and a massive Puppet dozens of kilometers away completely exceeded the limits of her Stage 8.
The violet rift opened in the air, but began to tremble and destabilize immediately. Violeta screamed in agony. Red blood gushed from her nose, ears, and her eye, her brain on the verge of a lethal hemorrhage from the dimensional overload. The bridge was going to collapse and cut them in half.
Samael, ignoring his pierced lungs and the spiritual agony devouring him, lunged forward. He placed his left hand, stripped of armor and with red-hot flesh, on Violeta's shoulder.
He injected the last drop of his Law of Space. He didn't force the distance; he simply stabilized the chaos. He "hardened" the dimensional tunnel with his True Saint will, easing the burden on the young assassin's fragile body.
"Go... now," Samael ordered, his voice barely a raspy whisper.
Kael, Cedric, and Torian began throwing the youngest ones toward the rift, quickly followed by the elders.
As the group crossed over, Malak, the Sovereign of the Scythe, was the last to turn his back on the enemy. He looked at the hundreds of elite soldiers of the Purple Light Sect who, desperate and terrified by the burning ship's free fall, were trying to summon flying swords or winged beasts to escape the disaster.
Malak smiled beneath his bone mask. He raised his hand and, instead of dispelling the Veil of the Eclipse, he fragmented it. He anchored thousands of shadow traps to the falling debris.
When the enemy elites leapt from the split ship to fly to safety, the shadows came alive in mid-air. Maws of two-dimensional darkness opened in the void, swallowing the soldiers mid-flight, chewing their bodies, and spitting fresh blood onto the desert before they could even touch the ground. No one would survive the fall.
Samael and Violeta crossed the threshold together just as a second explosion in the dreadnought's engines turned the sky into an inferno. The dimensional rift closed behind them, swallowed by the fire.
In the center of the Great Courtyard of the Morningstar Citadel, beneath the immense crimson branches of the Star Tree, space tore open.
The group burst back into reality. There was no heroic landing. Violeta collapsed immediately, unconscious before touching the stone slabs, caught mid-air by Eris's reflexes. Samael Morningstar touched the ground, and his legs, which had borne the weight of four Laws, finally gave out. The Patriarch fell heavily to his knees. The Odachi of the Eclipse slipped from his bloody fingers, striking the stone with a hollow sound.
He coughed, and a pool of red blood darkened the floor beneath him. His wounds were horrifying; a large portion of his torso was burned, his broken ribs threatened his heart, and the exhaustion of his Qi was so absolute he looked like a mortal on the verge of collapse.
Kael quickly knelt beside him, holding his Patriarch's shoulder to keep him from falling face-first, his golden eyes full of fierce loyalty and contained worry.
Around the plaza, the entire legion waited. Five thousand warriors dressed in black, who had felt the aftershocks of the cataclysm in the sky and seen the clouds burn in purple and fire.
Seeing their Patriarch return in that state, there were no childish cheers, no applause, no songs of celebration. There was a thick silence, laden with a respect so deep it bordered on religious fanaticism. The disciples understood what those burns and that blood meant. Their leader hadn't sat on a throne giving orders; he had flown into the center of a dwarf sun to put it out for them.
Suddenly, Draven Morningstar slammed the shaft of his immense mace against his shield. CLANG!
It was the signal.
Five thousand shadow warriors drew their weapons in unison. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! They began to beat steel against their shields and against the stone floor in a heavy, martial, and thunderous rhythm. It was a pure, hard war salute, a roar of iron that made the mountain vibrate to its foundations. They recognized the monster that led them. They recognized that they had just murdered deities for the right to exist.
Samael, using Kael as support, struggled to his feet. The pain clouded his vision, but his will was unbreakable steel. He raised his head, looking at his legion stained with determination.
"We have... bled the Alliance..." Samael's voice was hoarse, weak from the destruction of his lungs, but amplified by the immense resonance of the Star Tree. "We have killed a Stage 3 Saint. We have brought down their sky."
Samael raised his right fist, still dripping his own red blood. "Let the northern continent hear. Morningstar is no longer a clan hiding in the dunes. From tonight on... we are a Continental Power!"
The steel salute of the five thousand disciples transformed into a bestial roar of bloodlust and conquest. The mountain itself seemed to howl with them.
Through the sea of soldiers, a figure pushed her way through. Seraphina, her Half-Saint aura stabilizing the environment around her, ran toward the center of the plaza. She wasn't crying, but the tension in her pale face revealed the terror she had felt seeing the dreadnought explode. In her arms, she held little Celeste.
Samael pulled slightly away from Kael. He didn't bother hiding his horrifying wounds from his family; in his world, scars were the only real crown.
Seraphina stopped half a meter from him, her eyes examining the near-lethal damage on her husband's body. But it was the child who broke the protocol of war.
Celeste, with her strange heterochromatic eyes—one icy blue and one dark violet—was not laughing. She was no stranger to danger or pain. The baby stared intently at Samael with a depth, a gravity in her gaze that did not belong to an infant. Her little eyes seemed to scrutinize her father's torn soul, and then, she looked up toward the smoking sky where the dreadnought had perished.
Samael felt a chill that had nothing to do with his wounds. In the chaos of the explosion, while his mind fragmented, he had felt that incomprehensible pull in causality. He had felt his daughter break the divine thread.
Samael raised his trembling hand, the same one that had shattered a dreadnought, and with extreme gentleness, caressed Celeste's little cheek. He left a faint smudge of his own red blood on the girl's immaculate skin. It was a silent baptism, a mute acknowledgment of the primeval monster beating inside that tiny shell. I know, Samael's eyes said.
"Inside," Seraphina ordered with a firm voice, taking her husband's good arm, assuming logistical command as he swayed. "Healers. Bring the lotus marrow from the vault. Now."
As they led the Patriarch into the Dragon Tower, the Council of Elders did not join the clamor of the youth.
Lilith, still covered in the ash of her own rebirth, approached Cedric. The clan's strategist had sunken eyes from the exhaustion of days without sleep. "Euphoria is dangerous," Lilith murmured, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "Today we decapitated the viper, but the entire nest is going to stir. The Purple Light Sect and the Valois Family will not tolerate a minor fiefdom murdering their Saints."
Cedric nodded, his cold mind already processing the next steps. "I will send shadow units to comb the desert. The remains of that dreadnought are Mid-Heaven Grade. The runic steel, the undestroyed cannons, the spiritual cores... all that loot will finance our expansion. We will recover every screw before the Alliance sends scouts. This victory buys us time, Great Elder. A month, at most, before they declare all-out war."
"Then we will fortify the cradle until the stone bleeds," Lilith sentenced.
Hours later, in the solitude of his chambers at the top of the Dragon Tower, Samael lay prostrate.
His body's wounds had been stabilized by Livia's alchemy and Seraphina's healing ice, but the internal agony was far from over. His meridians burned as if injected with acid. The toll of having channeled Void, Blood, Space, and Destiny at the same time, combined with the cosmic trauma the deities had partially wiped from his memory, kept him in a state of constant spiritual fever. Every heartbeat was a hammer blow to his skull.
In the gloom of his room, away from the eyes of his legion and his family, the tyrant gritted his teeth, refusing to scream in the dark.
And there, in the midst of his solitary pain, the System interface materialized before his retinas, emitting a golden, triumphant glow that contrasted cruelly with his physical suffering. The rewards for altering the destiny of the world had arrived.
[Critical Victory. New Reputation: Emerging Power.]
[Accelerated Qi recovery for all clan members.]
[Rare inheritances and resources have an increased spawn rate.]
[Lineage Luck: +500% for the next month.]
Samael read the notifications with the only eye he could keep open. The title of Continental Emerging Power shone with a light that promised his lineage survival, but guaranteed rivers of blood in the near future.
He closed the System interface with a thought. Darkness returned to the room.
Samael Morningstar looked up at the stone ceiling, his breath whistling weakly in the silence. He knew he had crossed a threshold from which there was no return. He had stared into the abyss, and the abyss had crowned him. The price of being a god was barely beginning to be exacted in his own flesh, but as long as his daughter slept safely in the next room, the tyrant would gladly pay that price, shattering the world one empire at a time.
End
Author's Note:
Greetings, my legion of shadows and sadistic commanders!
I come to you today with my head held low (and not just because I'm sleepy). I have to offer a monumental apology: today we'll only have 7 chapters. Yesterday, the muse abandoned me... or well, to be honest, I got completely hooked playing on my console, and then exhaustion hit me with a combo that left me knocked out, drooling over the keyboard. But put away the torches! Tomorrow we're back to the usual 10-chapter schedule to continue the massacre.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart for still being here. Enjoy the read!
[Scene: The Keyboard Tribunal]
There I was, minding my own business, sweating buckets in a match of FC 25 and thinking: "Just one more match so I don't go to bed salty, and then I'll start writing Chapter 99..."
Suddenly, the temperature in my room dropped to levels that would make a polar bear shiver. Given the typical Caracas heat, I actually appreciated it at first, thinking my AC had finally evolved—but then I felt gravity multiply a hundredfold, and my poor desk chair began to creak, crying out for mercy.
I look up, and there they are.
Samael is staring at me with those violet eyes that judge you for the sins of your past lives. He's toying with his sword, tapping the blade against his palm with a rhythm that screams, "I'm going to fillet this useless mortal."
—"So..." Samael murmurs, his voice making my very molars rattle. "The glorious advance of my empire is on pause because the 'creator' can't put down the PS5 controller? Is that the excuse, mortal?"
Before I can stammer something about lag or matchmaking, Seraphina glides to my side. She doesn't say a word, but her mere presence has already frozen my glass of water, and frost is starting to crawl up my mouse cable. She looks at me with that icy empress smile that lets you know you're three seconds away from becoming a lawn ornament for her garden.
—"It seems to me," Seraphina says, gently stroking my cheek with a finger that feels like liquid nitrogen, "that someone needs to spend less time pretending to be a virtual athlete and more time narrating our supremacy. Or would you prefer little Celeste use your router as a teething toy?"
—"GAAAHK! No, not the internet!" I scream while trying to peel my frozen fingers off the keyboard. "I'll put out the 10 chapters tomorrow, I swear! Samael, turn down the gravity, you're going to fuse me into the chair!"
Samael sighs, rubbing his temple in genuine disappointment, and the pressure vanishes instantly. I collapse to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
—"Ten chapters tomorrow," the Patriarch sentences, turning around to leave through a dark portal. "Not a single letter less. And if I see you with that controller in your hands again, I'll let Malak pay you a midnight visit. Spoiler: He's not coming for co-op."
So here I am, writing with thermal gloves, drinking scalding coffee, and shaking with fear. Enjoy these 7 chapters, because tomorrow things get intense (and my life depends on it)! Love you guys!