With a blinding light, everything in the distance disappeared.

The searing brightness consumed all, marking the end of humanity’s final chapter. Eryndor Valcis’s ultimate sacrifice incinerated the SS-rank monster and himself, leaving nothing but scorched earth behind. His final smile, one of bittersweet satisfaction, faded into nothingness as his soul departed the mortal plane.

The Heavenly Realm

In a grand expanse of celestial light and shadow, an imposing figure sat on a throne forged from countless skulls. His presence radiated an otherworldly power, commanding reverence and fear. Around him floated legions of angels, their divine forms glowing brilliantly. One of them, a being of unmatched grace and authority, approached.

"Your apostle has used it, my lord," she said, her voice calm yet laced with urgency.

She was an angel of high rank, her twelve wings shimmering with celestial light. Her piercing green eyes reflected galaxies, and her golden hair danced in the air as though moved by unseen winds.

The being on the throne, often revered as a god, spoke with a voice that resonated across the heavens.

"Commence Plan C," he commanded, his tone absolute and final.

The angel bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord."

With a flash of light, she disappeared from the heavenly realm, her task clear.

The Soul Realm

The Soul Realm stretched endlessly, an ethereal plane where all departed souls gathered. Here, each soul took the form of a radiant orb, glowing with hues that reflected their essence. The air was thick with an eerie tranquility, the silence broken only by the faint hum of energy.

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Amidst the countless orbs of light, one stood out.

A soul glowing with an intense, unrelenting red—a color so vibrant and fiery that it seemed to ripple with raw emotion. It pulsated like a living flame, defying the calm of the realm around it.

The angel materialized in the Soul Realm, her wings illuminating the void with celestial brilliance. Her gaze fell on the red soul, her green eyes narrowing slightly in disapproval.

"Such chaos, even in death," she muttered, her voice laced with distaste.

Raising her hand, she invoked her divine authority, bending the laws of the realm to her will. The red soul, which had stubbornly resisted the pull of the afterlife, was drawn toward her. It flickered and flared, as if protesting, but her will was absolute.

With a whispered incantation, she teleported herself and the soul to an unknown plane.

An Unknown Place

The angel emerged in a place devoid of light, a void where only her radiance illuminated the surroundings. She raised her hand, holding the fiery red soul aloft. Slowly, the soul began to take form. Limbs, flesh, and features materialized, sculpted by divine will.

Before her knelt Eryndor Valcis, reborn but devoid of the memories of the Soul Realm. His form was intact, yet his essence still radiated the raw emotions that had defined him in life.

The angel’s eyes lingered on him, her gaze a mix of contempt and curiosity. His soul, though powerful, was chaotic and volatile—a reflection of the man who had wielded such destructive force in the mortal realm.

"Stand," she ordered, her voice cold and commanding.

Eryndor, disoriented and overwhelmed, remained on his knees, his head bowed. The weight of her presence was suffocating, her celestial aura pressing down on him like a mountain.

"Look at me," she demanded, her tone sharp and unyielding.

Eryndor, his body trembling, raised his head slowly. His eyes, though dim with confusion, held a flicker of the defiance that had once defined him. He stared up at the angel, unsure of where he was, who she was, or what had happened.

The angel studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint sneer, she spoke.

"Your recklessness cost you everything. Your life, your world, and yet, here you are. Do you even understand what you are now?"

Eryndor said nothing, his mind still clouded, his memories fractured. He could remember flashes—the battle, the flames, Stephanie’s smile—but everything else was a blur.

"Your actions destroyed the last remnants of humanity," the angel continued, her voice harsh. "Yet even in death, you are chosen. The god you served has plans for you, whether you deserve it or not."

Eryndor’s hands clenched into fists. Despite the confusion, a spark of anger flickered in his chest at her words. He didn’t understand why, but her tone ignited something within him—something primal.

"Why am I here?" he asked finally, his voice hoarse.

The angel’s eyes narrowed. "You are here because you have been given another chance. Not for redemption, not for revenge, but for a purpose far greater than your mortal comprehension."

She paused, her expression hardening further.

"You are no longer Eryndor Valcis, the man who burned with rage and despair. You are now a tool of the divine. Whether you embrace it or not is irrelevant."

Eryndor’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent. The weight of her words bore down on him, yet he could feel the ember of defiance burning brighter within.

"Stand and prepare yourself," the angel commanded. "You have no choice but to obey. Your life, your soul, and your power now belong to the god who sits upon the Throne of Skulls."

To Be Continued.