When Athena opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Ayden’s tear-streaked face as he shook her, crying desperately, “Sister, wake up! Please, sister!” Beside him, Julian sat murmuring, his voice trembling with guilt. “No… I should have been the one hit. I should have saved you.”
Her body felt like it had been hurled from the heavens. Oh, right, that’s exactly what happened, she thought wryly. With effort, she moved her numb legs and gave Julian a gentle kick. “Fool, if you had been in my place, all three of us would be dead.”
Seeing her alive and speaking, both boys flung themselves at her, wrapping her in a tight hug. Tears streamed down their faces as they cried, “Thanks to the gods of Ausra Nevaeh, you’re awake!”
She winced at the pressure but managed a teasing smile as she patted their backs. “If that fall didn’t kill me, I might die from you two squeezing the life out of me.” Athena joked.
At her words, they hastily let go, though their expressions were still a mix of relief and lingering fear.
“Anyway,” she began, sitting up with effort and surveying their surroundings, “who caught us in the middle of the fall? And how are they?”
Julian, still looking shaken, replied, “It was Captain Batair. He managed to catch us and cushion the fall with his mana. We were lucky.”
As her senses returned, the sounds of battle grew louder, drawing her attention to their surroundings. Now fully aware, Athena looked around. They were in the middle of a dense forest, surrounded by the chaotic buzz of knights battling demons. The temporary barrier erected by the knights was holding, but cracks were forming, and she doubted it would last much longer.
Her gaze shifted to the sky, where her father’s duel with the so-called demon god raged on. Blades clashed in bursts of light and shadow, their battle a fiery display of skill and ferocity.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
Ayden, his eyes still red and lips trembling, whispered, “Only a few minutes since we fell.”
Before Athena could respond, Captain Batair approached, relief evident in his posture. “Your Highness, you’re awake. How are you feeling? We healed your injuries as much as we could, but you might still feel pain and soreness.”
Athena managed a small, reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Captain. I’m a future hunter—if I can’t handle this much pain, how can I protect the Empire?”
The captain couldn’t help but admire the brave young girl. He had witnessed her first instinct to shield her fragile brother and friend during the chaos. One day, she will make the Empire proud, he thought.
“Captain,” Athena said, narrowing her eyes at the distant battlefield, “is it just me, or does it feel like the number of demons is decreasing?”
Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed from the direction of her father. Athena’s heart skipped a beat, but relief quickly followed—it wasn’t her father who had cried out, but the demon. Belial was clutching his now-severed right arm, his grotesque face twisted in pain. The cry stunned the demons in the vicinity, their confidence visibly shaken.
“You… A mere mortal fly managed to injure me!” Belial bellowed, his voice thick with disbelief and rage.
Alexander smirked, his sword glinting with the demon’s blood. “Before you speak, you should consider—who is the fly now?”
“Shut up!” Belial roared, his fury spiraling out of control. “You dare to make this god shed blood? If I weren’t restricted, I’d have wiped all of you out!”
Alexander’s voice rang out strong and unwavering. “Belial, you’re no god. You’re just a failure.”
For the first time in his life, Belial had been defeated so pathetically by a mortal. Memories of mockery from the other demon gods—calling him the weakest of their kind—flooded his mind. Now, even a mortal dared to mock him. His pride couldn’t take it any longer.
Consumed by rage, Belial began chanting in a guttural demon tongue, his words reverberating with dark energy. Moments later, the sky darkened as a massive meteor, glowing with volcanic fire, materialized above. The enormous ball of flame and rock began its descent, aimed squarely at Alexander and the people below.
“Taste my power, mortal!” Belial snarled.
Ayden stared at the incoming fireball, its terrifying size blotting out the sky. He squeezed his eyes shut, his small body trembling. Maybe it’s better to die like this, he thought. Better than enduring a slow death at Father’s hands. Regret welled up inside him—regret for not making more happy memories with his sister, for not having more friends.
Julian, on the other hand, stepped in front of Athena with fierce determination. “I will always stand before you. It’s my duty, and it’s my will.”
Athena looked at the two boys in front of her and said firmly, “Trust my father. He’s known as the ‘Demon Prince’ for a reason, so don’t be afraid. Captain Batair, the number of demons is decreasing. Find a more suitable place where he doesn’t have to worry about us.”
As Alexander saw the enormous fireball hurtling toward him, he knew the fight was escalating. It was time to summon his divine artifact. Only those blessed with divine seals could wield these treasures left behind by the old gods. Alexander’s seal had been bestowed by the God of Chaos, Alastor. With it, he had gained Alastor’s famed sword, the Ballad of Chaos, a weapon that had claimed countless demon lives.
The Ballad of Chaos radiated a chilling and overwhelming aura. Its sheer presence made Belial’s eyes widen in disbelief. This was the first time Alexander had revealed the weapon, and no one had seen it or even guessed which god had blessed him. Even if witnesses recognized its power, they wouldn’t truly comprehend its origin.
Belial, momentarily shaken, felt a shiver crawl down his spine. “So this is the source of your strength,” he sneered, recovering his composure. “But it’s useless, Prince. Today, you’ll die by my hand, just as Alastor fell to my master.” Freed from his initial shock, Belial regained his confidence, determined to prevail.
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Captain Batair, observing the scene from afar, recognized the sword’s immense power. It surpassed anything he had ever encountered. Hearing the name Alastor and the connection to the Ballad of Chaos was shocking. Alastor, once one of the most powerful gods, had been a harbinger of chaos on the battlefield. His fall was a devastating loss for heaven.
When Alexander had first touched the Ballad of Chaos, he’d felt its overwhelming power and vowed never to use it unless absolutely necessary. Now, wielding it after so long, he raised the blade toward the descending fireball. His voice rang out with authority as he unleashed one of his most devastating skills: “Ten Thousand Blade Storm!”
A chilling wind gathered at the tip of his sword, swirling into a fierce, icy storm. From her vantage point, Athena watched as her father’s sword gleamed, and an odd sense of familiarity stirred in her chest. She could see the storm bristling with the light of countless spectral blades.
As the storm surged toward the fireball, the volcanic flames dimmed and began to cool. By the time the storm reached its target, the fiery mass had solidified into rock. In the next moment, the storm’s ten thousand slashes reduced the enormous boulder to fine dust.
As the battle raged on, a sudden and immense pressure descended from above. The sky turned a blood-red hue, and a chilling wind carrying the stench of blood swept through the air. Both Belial and Alexander were thrown to the ground by the overwhelming force.
Alexander struggled, summoning every ounce of his strength to resist the crushing weight. He refused to kneel, stabbing the Ballad of Chaos into the ground and leaning on it to keep himself upright. Despite his resolve, the pressure tore at him, making it feel as though his flesh was being stripped from his body.
Belial, on the other hand, lay flat on his stomach, utterly immobilized. He couldn’t muster the strength to rise under the immense force. Across the woods, knights, demons, and monsters alike collapsed face-first to the ground, completely overpowered.
Captain Batair clung to the two boys, shielding them with his body as best as he could, though he too was pressed against the ground. Yet, amidst all this chaos, Athena stood firm. The oppressive pressure seemed to have no effect on her. Her mismatched eyes glowed with cold, otherworldly light, defiant against the darkened sky.
A fissure suddenly tore open in the heavens, radiating a sinister aura. From it, a commanding voice boomed, shaking the very air.
“Belial, stop this nonsense and return. It is not yet time for this battle.”
A sinister chuckle followed the voice. “Little princess, do you not wish to kneel before your future master?”
Athena lifted her gaze toward the fissure, her expression cold and filled with disdain. Her voice was steady and cutting. “I’ve learned never to kneel to those beneath me. You are not qualified to be my master, you insignificant flea.”
The voice let out an amused laugh. “Such a sharp tongue for one so young. Don’t worry, child, I will pluck it out when I make you mine.”
Athena’s lips curled into a scoff, her voice dripping with contempt. “And don’t you think your ego is too large for someone so insignificant? Don’t worry, I’ll crush it when I become strong enough.”
The voice laughed again, as though thoroughly entertained. “Such spirit. You amuse me. I will wait for the day you grow strong enough, only to break you and mold you to my liking.”
The laughter echoed ominously, shaking the air around them. As it subsided, the oppressive pressure began to lift. Alexander, barely recovering his composure, prepared to act, but Belial didn’t wait. The demon god took flight, retreating toward the fissure.
Before disappearing completely, Belial’s voice resonated one final time. “Do not think this is over, mortal prince. I will return for your head.”
With that, the fissure sealed shut, and the dark atmosphere faded. The sky cleared, and calm returned to the forest, leaving the lingering tension of the encounter hanging in the air.
After a few moments of tense silence, Athena broke it with a comment, “Well, that was interesting.” Her words made everyone around her turn to her with expressions of pure fright.
When Prince Alexander arrived, he was greeted by the sight of his knights staring at his daughter as if she were a ghost. He immediately understood their unease. Though Alexander himself had no qualms about trading taunts with enemies on the battlefield, the idea of speaking so boldly to the ruler of the Abyss was unthinkable—even for him. What puzzled him more was how his daughter, a mere child, had managed to stand firm against the crushing pressure that had forced even him, a veteran hunter, to kneel.
“Young lady, what do you think you were doing?” Alexander’s voice carried a mix of curiosity and sternness as he approached Athena.
Hearing her father’s voice, Athena turned toward him, her eyes lighting up with joy. Without hesitation, she ran to him, and Alexander enveloped her in a protective hug, as if holding something both fragile and priceless.
“Dad,” Athena began, her voice trembling slightly as she buried her face in his chest. “I felt so uncomfortable when I heard that voice. It was like a thousand worms crawling under my skin. I couldn’t stand his words or his tone. I just... I wanted to beat him up.” Her voice softened as she added, “If it weren’t for that voice speaking to me in my mind, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stand or talk like that. Did I do something wrong?”
Alexander gently patted her back, his voice warm and reassuring. "No, my little cupcake, you did nothing wrong," Alexander said gently. “In fact, you did something even I would hesitate to do. You were incredibly brave.”
After a pause, Alexander’s tone grew calmer but more serious. “Who was it that spoke to you in your mind? Can you tell me?”
Athena pulled back slightly to look up at her father, her brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “But his voice felt so calm and comforting. He told me never to kneel before bad things, to be brave, and to always speak my mind without fear.” She paused, her gaze distant as if searching her memories. “It felt familiar, like I’ve heard it before... but I can’t remember where.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed slightly. The idea of someone—or something—communicating with his daughter in such a way puzzled him. He couldn’t think of anyone capable of such a feat, especially during the overwhelming pressure of the moment. Though the mystery unsettled him, he decided to set it aside for now, focusing instead on the relief of having his daughter safe and sound.
After setting the princess back on the ground Alexander hugged Ayden who looked frightened. “It’s ok Ayden, uncle is here don’t worry.” Hearing the familiar voice of his uncle Ayden let out a soft whimper with tears streaming down his eyes. “I thought we were going to die.” Athena stood near her father and brother watching her brother cry like this made her feel sad. She patted his back in a soothing way.
Witnessing the heartwarming scene between Alexander and Athena made Julian ache with longing for his own father. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, a visibly panicked Frederick Morari appeared, hurrying from the direction where the massive fleet had landed earlier. His frantic eyes swept over the scene until they locked on Julian, and then quickly moved to the prince.
“Your Highness, are you alright?” Frederick asked, his voice tight with concern.
Alexander, now holding both Ayden and Athena’s hands, gave Frederick a reassuring look. “Yes, I’m fine. But don’t you think you should check on your son?”
As if given permission to breathe, Frederick rushed toward Julian. He pulled his son into a tight hug and anxiously looked him over from head to toe. Only after confirming that Julian was unharmed did Frederick finally relax.
“Everyone, let’s move to the fleet,” Frederick urged, his tone brisk but gentle. “The injured need immediate treatment, and we can’t afford any further delays.”
With a collective nod, the group boarded the fleet, leaving behind the chaos and danger of the past hours. As the journey toward Finley resumed, the weight of what had transpired lingered in their hearts. Yet, despite the uncertainty ahead, they pressed on—toward a fate that had been written long before any of them had even drawn their first breath.