The silence that reigned within the ancient cathedral was no mere absence of sound; it was a heavy, pulsating presence that hung in the air like a bated breath. Night had draped itself over the structure like a black shroud of mourning.

Beneath the vaulted sanctuary ceiling, massive bronze lanterns cast a light so feeble they seemed powerless to strip the secrets from the encroaching shadows.

On the walls, masterfully rendered murals of angels watched over the empty temple with frozen yet omniscient eyes. Each stroke of the brush seemed to possess its own heartbeat; in the flickering amber light, the figures appeared moments away from stepping out of the stone and walking.

The spiritual atmosphere was pregnant with a looming calamity, as if the very air were a womb carrying a great destruction.

Suddenly, the serenity of the night was ripped asunder by the fires of hell!

The cathedral roof buckled and split with a deafening roar of colliding metal and stone. A massive, flaming projectile tore through the sky, plunging into the heart of the sanctuary.

Its velocity and force were so catastrophic that the ancient marble floor shredded like parchment. Pews that had echoed with centuries of prayer were swept away like dry leaves in a hurricane. Dust, debris, and a searing heat suffocated the sacred space. The oxygen seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced by air that scorched the lungs.

As the smoke from the impact slowly cleared, a woman was visible at the bottom of the massive crater.

She stirred with a pained groan, her lungs burning as she fought for breath amidst the swirling dust. She was not dressed in the attire of a common mortal; instead, a suit of blood-red leather armor clung to her body like a second skin.

Its surface shimmered like the hide of a serpent, pulsing with an inner, rhythmic power. Her muscles were taut, like a predator coiled for a strike. As she clutched her head and looked up, the dim light revealed her face: it was Dr. Toram.

But this was not the Toram of the lecture halls. Gone was the white laboratory coat, gone were the research papers, replaced entirely by this warrior’s harness of crimson leather and steel.

The thick glasses through which she had viewed the world scientifically were missing, yet, miraculously, she could see every speck of dust and every hairline fracture in the walls with supernatural clarity.

"I’m in... a church? How did I get here?"

Her voice was not her own. It boomed through the hollow hall like a clap of thunder.

Horror seized her as she heard the leonine resonance of her own speech. She reached for her throat, her heart galloping like a warhorse. As a scientist, her mind instinctively clawed for logic and reason.

"This is a dream. I must be in a coma... some kind of accident," she whispered. But the searing air in her throat and the raw heat against her skin rendered that hypothesis void.

Recoiling in shock, she heard a distinct clatter of metal behind her. She turned and caught her reflection in a jagged shard of stained glass.

She gasped at the sight. Strapped to her back were two massive, terrifying swords. One was a fiery, smoldering red; the other, a chilling, frost-bitten blue. They were crossed like a pair of lethal shears.

"Madness! This is utter madness!"

She reached back to tear them off, desperate to prove they weren't real. The moment her hands brushed the hilts, a violent surge of energy jolted through her entire being.

As she unsheathed them, the blades transformed into pure, terrifying embers. Though the fire did not scorch her hands, its heat was real, penetrating deep into her bones. In a panic, she let go, but instead of falling, they hovered in the air before snapping back into their sheaths of their own accord.

Toram collapsed to her knees. The pain was real, the weight of the armor was real, and the fear was anchored in her marrow. She slapped her face hard. The sound echoed through the cathedral.

"Wake up, Toram... Wake up! Get out of this nightmare!" she screamed.

But the pain was a stubborn witness. This was no ordinary dream to wake from; this... was her new, terrifying reality.

Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Outside, the five-thousand-kari church grounds were convulsing with screams and the cacophony of chaos.

Dr. Toram was drawn to the sound, her fear warring with the insatiable curiosity of a scientist. She crept toward a fractured window and peered through the broken glass. What she saw was a truth the human mind was never meant to digest.

The cathedral seemed to exist in its own pocket of reality, encased in a shimmering golden light that hummed like a hive of bees.

This sacred sphere stood as a silent sentinel, a barrier of protection. Outside this golden rim, despite it being the middle of the night, the world was bathed in a brilliance as bright as the midday sun.

The rain falling from the heavens was not water, but appeared to be tears of sorrow and prophecy.

Circling the church were magnificent beings—creatures of human form with wings like pigeons, sitting regally upon their horses in perfect military formation. They watched the unfolding battlefield with the steady, watchful eyes of loyal guardians.

Beyond them, the sight was even more harrowing. The sky had become a war zone. Beings of light with pigeon wings clashed with creatures of darkness possessing the leathery wings of bats.

The air itself howled like a wounded beast under the vibration of their wings and the clashing of their blades. The blue of the sky had bled into a deep, visceral crimson.

Suddenly, the earth trembled like a living thing preparing to vomit magma. The church grounds split from end to end.

As the fissures widened, small winged beasts, charred like coal and dripping with volcanic essence, erupted from the core of the earth. The sky and earth were swarmed by these monsters, and the cavalry defending the church moved to meet them head-on.

Toram watched this apocalyptic scene, her mind numbed by the sheer impossibility of it.

"This suit... a gateway to the multiverse? Where did the time machine take me? Which world is this? It can't be!" Her mind raced at a thousand miles per hour, even as her eyes wandered through the shadows of the battlefield.

The rain intensified, the droplets drumming against the stone. Suddenly, mingling with the rain, creatures with black and white wings began to fall from the sky like a downpour.

As if in a vision, powerful beings clad in golden armor—humanoid yet possessing pigeon-like grace—rose from their positions.

Among them was a figure of immense majesty, a bronze-skinned being with massive wings and two swords strapped to his back. He soared through the torrential rain and landed gracefully on the edge of the cathedral roof.

Others followed, flanking him on either side—a celestial army prepared for a final stand.

In that moment, Toram realized a pivotal truth: this night was not the end of history. This night was the beginning of everything.

The darkness outside was thick, carrying a malevolent spirit that seemed to breathe and stifle the soul. The air around the church perimeter was charged with a supernatural tension. Heartbeats thundered like drums.

On the roof, the Angels of Light stood in formation, their glowing wings creating a dim orange aura against the dark.

Among them, Kaduel—a beautiful being resembling a pure white Dove—approached their leader, Saruel. Saruel, the Commander of Lightning, the King of Bolts, stood with a majestic bronze hue, radiating a heroic aura that could make any enemy tremble.

Kaduel, watching the slaughter of the innocent below, asked with vibrating impatience:

"Saruel! How long must we wait? They are being annihilated down there! Our kin are falling like leaves, melting like wax! We await only your command!"

Saruel exhaled a long breath, his eyes fixed on the carnage. His breath seemed to slice through the air. He turned to Kaduel, the calm of a steady ocean in his eyes shifting into a terrifying storm.

"There is nothing left to wait for," Saruel growled, his voice a low rumble of thunder. "If we do not descend now, there will be no field left upon which to make history. I believe there are tribes of angels who need our aid... can you see them, Kaduel?"

Kaduel bowed his head. The world below was a churning vortex of death between the angels of shadow and the forces of light. Saruel’s voice rose, echoing across the sky like a trumpet:

"Then... there shall be no more mercy! Draw your swords! I want no enemy left alive; leave nothing behind, turn them all to ash!"

The command given, Saruel spread his massive wings and plunged from the roof like a heat-seeking missile. The sound of him tearing through the air was deafening. The army followed, a locust swarm of light blotting out the sky.

Saruel hit the ground with a force that shattered the earth beneath him. Before he could even move a centimeter, a massive shadow wielding a black greatsword plummeted toward him from above.

As the enemy moved to cleave him in two, Saruel’s left hand moved with a speed that defied time, seizing the enemy by the throat. The demon's scream was strangled in its gullet.

Holding him aloft, Saruel drew a sword of lightning that pulsed with blue electricity. In the blink of an eye, the enemy was bifurcated. The dark angel’s flesh glowed red-hot and melted into a pool of bubbling black liquid.

Saruel roared, his voice towering over the battlefield:

"Leave none alive! No mercy for the enemy! Finish them all!"

He began to reap the bat-winged demons like tall grass. His movements were a blur, too fast for the naked eye to track; only the flashes of light and the falling bodies marked his path.

Watching from the cathedral, Toram trembled. "How does his body withstand that velocity? According to the laws of physics, his bones should have disintegrated!" Even in the face of the divine, her scientific obsession would not let her go.

Kaduel was a whirlwind beside his leader. He seized one demon by the wing and decapitated him with a lightning strike, the fiery blood spraying like macabre fireworks.

As Saruel fought his way forward, four elite soldiers in ancient black robes, wielding swords of flowing fire, blocked his path. Their faces were shrouded in the veil of death. They attacked in perfect coordination—right, left, front, and back. Their swords shrieked through the air, but Saruel’s defense was an impenetrable fortress of steel. The collision of their power created a localized hurricane of lightning that melted the very ground they stood upon.

After a brutal exchange, Saruel’s eyes flashed with righteous fury. Tendrils of lightning erupted from his body, snaring the necks of all four elites simultaneously. As millions of volts surged through them, their internal organs ruptured and their bones shattered visibly through their skin.

A massive explosion of light followed. Every friend and foe on the battlefield paused for a second to witness the blast. As the four elites fell in pieces, Saruel landed, supported by only one wing. His breathing was ragged; he was gravely wounded. He knelt, leaning on his sword to keep from collapsing.

"Commander!" Kaduel cried, rushing to his side. He supported Saruel, whose wing was broken and leaking a fluid like white milk.

But there was no respite. The earth groaned. A massive earthquake rocked the foundations of the world. The ground yawned open, and dark angels bathed in volcanic fire erupted from the abyss, forming a fresh front.

The Angels of Light formed a shield wall around their fallen commander. They retreated toward the cavalry surrounding the church. The leader of the horsemen, an angel whose face was darkened by grief and exhaustion, approached Saruel.

"I do not think we can hold them like this," the cavalry leader said, his voice trembling with sorrow. "Too many have fallen. Our strength is spent."

He dismounted and reached toward Saruel's broken wing. Channeling a luminous power, he began to magically weave the wing back together. Saruel swallowed the pain as bone fused and flesh mended. Regenerated and his power restored, Saruel spread both wings and ascended.

"What you say is true," Saruel said, his voice now brimming with renewed confidence, his eyes burning like twin suns. "But there is a Commander. Until the appointed time, I will hold them back. But if they break through me... prepare for the final struggle."

Saruel descended and led his army to the front line where the two forces stood poised for a final clash.

The vast plain between the light and the dark split open, spewing magma. Suddenly, a subterranean rumble shook the very soul of the earth. A gargantuan figure bathed in volcanic flows, wielding a massive sword of living fire, tore through the crust. The heat of the deepest hell rose with him. As the dark angels shrieked in triumph, the host of light was washed in a wave of dread.

This was the being from beneath the foundations: Daruel, the Prince of Darkness.

*To be continued...*❤❤❤

The air shifted abruptly. The howling wind died, swallowing the surroundings in a heavy, suffocating silence. Above, the clouds bled into a bruised crimson, dragging themselves across the firmament like wounded beasts. 

Through this oppressive quiet, the rhythmic thud of Daruel’s boots echoed. With every step, the earth shuddered. Stones ground to dust beneath his weight, sounding like the fractured groans of the earth itself.

As Daruel closed the distance to Saruel, tendrils of pitch-black smoke coiled from his skin, withering the grass and leaves they brushed against into gray ash. His face was a mask of eerie calm, forged in the fires of a millennia-old hatred.

"My old friend! How have you been?" Daruel rumbled. His voice possessed the guttural vibration of a lion roaring from the depths of a cavern. The sheer physical force of his words made the air pressure plummet. "Eons have slipped through our fingers since we last met, haven't they? I've actually missed you!"

Saruel didn't flinch. His knuckles turned stark white as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. Behind him, pitch-black wings flared and snapped in the dead air, trembling with suppressed fury. 

The radiant light burning within Saruel’s eyes clashed against the abyssal shadows swirling around Daruel. The space between them crackled, fraught with static electricity. Saruel bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze dripping with venom and disgust.

"Friend?" Saruel spat the word like rancid poison. "Do you even comprehend the meaning of the word? You are a butcher of souls, the antithesis of light! Take these foul-breathing hounds of yours and crawl back into the abyss that spawned you. I know exactly what you seek. But that pure soul... Toram... you will never lay a finger on her!"

Daruel’s features contorted. A surge of blistering heat erupted from his nostrils with every exhale, tearing through the air like a localized hurricane. He swaggered forward, oozing lethal confidence. 

Behind him stretched a legion of nightmares. Thousands of formless, shadowy monstrosities slammed their rusted swords against their shields, sending tremors through the bedrock. Sickly slime dripped from the jaws of wolf-like beasts, while others locked their fiery, lidless eyes onto the forces of Light.

"And you believe you can stop me?" Daruel abruptly halted. Glowing embers ignited within his void-like eyes. "Let us see it, then! Show me how you stop me! To me, you are nothing but dust waiting to be scattered by the wind."

Saruel thrust his blade toward the heavens. Instantly, a jagged bolt of lightning tore through the crimson clouds, striking the steel. The blade erupted into a blinding, noonday brilliance, washing the battlefield in a wave of pure, white heat.

"Try me! Choke on your empty boasts and show me your might!" Saruel roared.

Daruel didn't hesitate. He hoisted his colossal greatsword—a massive slab of metal that looked forged from hardened magma—from the dirt. As he dragged it, the stone beneath it melted into glowing slag. 

A heartbeat remained before the slaughter. Both armies held their breath. Even the wind’s whispers ceased.

Then, Daruel launched himself upward like a reverse meteor. He unfurled his massive, leathery bat-wings, ripping through the air with a sonic boom that threatened to split the sky in two. 

Saruel shot up to meet him, moving at the speed of light. As the two titans hurled toward a mid-air collision, the warriors below braced themselves for a shockwave that felt like the end of the world.

High in the firmament, light and shadow collided. Every clash of their blades erupted with the deafening roar of a hundred thunderstorms. 

Daruel brought his greatsword down with world-shattering force, but Saruel vaulted nimbly through the air. The sheer velocity of Daruel's missed strike tore a vacuum in the sky, leaving a trail of black, smoking scars. In retaliation, Saruel gripped his hilt with both hands, unleashing a flurry of slashes that rained down like beams of concentrated lasers.

Below, the earth had transformed into the maw of hell. The armies clashed in a chaotic meat-grinder. The screech of rending metal, the shattering of shields, and guttural war cries in dead languages drowned out all else. 

The shadow legion surged forward like a tide of black sludge, met by the impenetrable wall of the Light cavalry’s glowing white shields.

Amidst the carnage, four grotesque dark angels—their faces hidden behind bone masks, reeking of rot—surrounded a young angel of Light. Despite his desperate arcs with his glowing blade, the four monstrosities pounced simultaneously. 

One pinned a wing, another a leg, while the remaining two seized his arms. They pulled. The young angel's agonizing shriek tore through the din of battle as his limbs gave way, his body ripping apart like cheap fabric before crashing into the mud.

Qaduel witnessed it all. The loyal confidant of Saruel and commander of the Light forces felt his core boil over. His irises suddenly sparked, transforming into pools of crackling blue lightning. The ambient temperature around him spiked so drastically that the blood-soaked soil vaporized into steam.

"Enough!" Qaduel bellowed. The raw kinetic command in his voice carried such force that the four dark angels froze in their tracks.

Qaduel became a blur. His speed transcended the limits of the eye. He vanished, leaving only a violent distortion in the air, flashing right through the center of the four beasts. 

For a fraction of a second, the monstrosities stood perfectly still. Then, arcs of blue lightning spider-webbed beneath their skin. Like shattered glass, they exploded into chunks of charred meat and ash. 

Qaduel stood yards behind them, slowly sliding his blade back into its scabbard. His face was devoid of an ounce of mercy.

Back in the sky, the duel neared its gruesome climax. Daruel’s overwhelming raw power was gradually wearing Saruel down. 

Suddenly, Daruel folded his massive wings, violently enveloping Saruel's own. Saruel thrashed, but the demon's grip was forged iron.

"Caught you," Daruel hissed directly into Saruel’s ear.

In that exact second, Daruel crushed his wings inward. The sickening crunch of Saruel’s snapping bones echoed above the battlefield. 

Blinded by agony, Saruel desperately thrust his left hand out. He released his sword, caught it mid-fall with his right hand, and plunged it upward, burying it hilt-deep into Daruel’s abdomen.

The radiant blade pierced cleanly through the demon lord’s torso. But Daruel didn't even flinch. Black, corrosive blood bubbled over his lips as he looked down with absolute disdain.

"This... this is your grand strike?" Daruel spat the words. "You think a piece of shiny metal can kill me? I slaughtered Death himself eons ago!"

Daruel’s leathery wing snapped around Saruel’s throat, choking him. Squeezing the angel like a brittle stone, he crushed his ribs before spinning him violently and hurling him toward the earth. 

Saruel plummeted, tearing through the clouds. He slammed into the ground with the force of a bomb. A massive plume of dust shot into the stratosphere, and the bedrock cratered beneath him.

Daruel descended slowly, drifting down like the spirit of apocalypse. As the dust settled, Saruel lay drenched in milky, luminescent blood. He propped himself up on twin broken blades, his muscles twitching, refusing to obey.

Daruel landed. He lazily lifted his massive magma-blade and drove it straight through Saruel’s stomach, pinning him to the dirt. Saruel’s eyes bulged in absolute torment. Wisps of radiant soul-essence began leaking from his mouth and the gaping wound.

Hoisting the impaled angel high into the air for the entire battlefield to witness, Daruel roared, "Look! Behold your champion! This is the fate that awaits every last one of you! Toram is mine!"

Saruel’s physical form could take no more. With a blinding flash, his body shattered into thousands of glowing motes, drifting harmlessly into the sky. The great warrior was gone.

The Army of Light recoiled. The sickening pall of despair painted their faces. Qaduel alone surged forward. "Do not break! We fight for the Light!" he screamed, but Daruel’s swarm was already engulfing them like a plague of locusts.

Daruel ignored the slaughter. His gaze locked onto the cathedral. He took a heavy, deliberate step toward the building. The war raging around him meant nothing. He had one target: Toram.

Inside the cathedral, Toram pressed her trembling hands against the stained glass, unable to process the nightmare unfolding outside. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. 

"This is impossible..." she whispered breathlessly. "A hallucination. Where is the science? Magic isn't real... This has to be some highly advanced, classified weaponry. It has to be."

But despite her desperate rationalizations, the sheer oppressive pressure radiating from Daruel's approaching form was physically stealing the oxygen from her lungs.

Just as Daruel raised a clawed hand to touch the cathedral doors, an eruption of blinding light blasted from within. The kinetic force picked the demon king off his feet, hurling him hundreds of yards backward. Daruel dug his claws into the dirt to stop his skid. When he looked up, for the first time, caution and genuine fury flashed across his face.

As the dust cleared, a new silhouette stood framed in the cathedral doorway. Toram gasped, slapping both hands over her mouth.

The Clash of Kings had only just begun. The fate of the mortal realm hung precariously in the balance. Daruel dusted off his armor and gripped his colossal sword once more. The hellfire in his eyes roared to life.

"Who dares make a fool of me?" he growled.

The voice that resonated from the light was calm and serene, yet it possessed a strange acoustic property that instantly muted the deafening roar of the entire battlefield. For the first time, Toram felt a fleeting spark of safety, even as the spectacle before her completely shattered her scientific worldview.

The war entered a new phase. The ancient kings were preparing to unleash their true power upon the earth. The darkness had been temporarily pushed back, but Daruel was not one to retreat. 

The corpses littering the battlefield began to twitch, reanimated by the demon lord’s suffocating aura. Chaos, brutality, and a thirst for power were dragging the world to the brink of annihilation.

Inside the church, Toram felt a strange, dormant energy stir within her own chest. Perhaps what she clung to as "technology" was actually an ancient secret permanently woven into her bloodline.

The battlefield swelled with the renewed struggle between Light and Shadow. The Clash of Kings raged on... and the victor was anything but decided. The earth bathed in blood, the sky choked on smoke, but in one small corner, a sliver of hope dared to ignite. Daruel took a step forward, and the sky trembled with him.

To be continued…❤❤❤

Saruel, upon whom the shadow of death had rested and whose body had scattered into light, has now returned with magnificent majesty. The air around him vibrated with immense power.

Beside him stood twelve colossal beings of light that seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon. These were the leaders of the twelve tribes of the Angels of Light. The radiance each of them emitted seemed to rise from where they stood and split the sky in two.

The armor they wore shone brilliantly, as if forged from pure diamond. The divine majesty surrounding them forced Daruel's pitch-black darkness to retreat.

But Daruel did not panic. In fact, the mocking smirk on his face became even more pronounced. Slowly brushing off the dust from his shoulders, he sneered, "Oh, wow! Look at you! You returned with the twelve tribes?" His voice grated like rusting metal. "Fascinating. The spectacle just got brighter. Let's make this game beautiful!"

Before he could even finish his sentence, the angel to Saruel's right launched forward like a streak of light. His speed was supersonic. The one on the left launched his attack at the exact same moment. Both angels swung their swords of light, targeting Daruel's neck and heart.

However, with immense composure, Daruel swung his massive, black sword through the air. The vibration caused by the clash of metal turned the nearby rocks into mere dust.

Suddenly, Daruel spread his wings wide. Like a bird of prey, he engulfed and trapped the two angels within his wings. At that very instant, Daruel's skin cracked like parched earth.

Bright red, boiling magma began to pour out from the cracks. His entire body turned into molten metal. As the temperature rose to thousands of degrees, the air around him ignited into a blue flame.

The two angels trapped within his wings could not withstand the scorching heat. Their bodies of light melted away like wax. Even though they struggled, Daruel's fiery power swallowed them like a tidal wave. Finally, emitting two small sparks, they turned to smoke and scattered into the wind.

Ratuel, the mighty angel standing to Saruel's left, witnessed this brutal scene and shouted in shock and anger. "Solar flare? This is dangerous! Saruel! You go to Toram. Get her out! We will hold him here!"

Saruel looked at Ratuel questioningly. Daruel had now completely transformed into a machine of destruction and was marching toward them. Every step he took melted the earth. The air was burning, making it difficult to even breathe.

The remaining eleven angels did not hesitate for a second. Moving in perfect sync as one body, they lunged at Daruel from different directions. While one brought down an avalanche of lightning from above, another launched an attack from below, splitting the earth.

In the midst of all this chaos, Daruel stood firm as a rock. He watched the swirling storms of attacks around him slowly and carefully. He calculated each of their movements in his mind like a mathematical formula.

Once he figured out the trajectory of their attacks, Daruel raised his hands. Flickering whips of fire shot out from his palms like serpents. Tearing through the air, these whips tightly bound the wings and legs of all eleven angels. The angels hung suspended in the air, struggling violently.

On the brink of death, Ratuel displayed immense resolve. He ruthlessly chopped off his own right wing with his sword. Though his face turned pale from the agony, he managed to free himself from Daruel's fiery trap. Instantly lunging toward Saruel, he pushed his friend out of the attack range with all his might.

When Saruel rolled on the ground and stood up, his dust-covered face was filled with pure rage. As he spread his wings and was about to return to save his friends, Ratuel raised his blood-soaked hand.

"Don't even think about it!" Ratuel shouted at the top of his lungs. Though his voice held despair, it was an absolute command. "Do not look back! Go to Toram! Saving her is the ultimate goal! We have no time... hurry!"

Saruel hesitated for a fraction of a second. Even though the agonizing cries of his friends were tearing his heart apart, he knew Ratuel spoke the truth. Gritting his teeth, he flapped his wings violently and darted toward the church.

As Saruel sped away, the remaining angels began their final desperate struggle against Daruel. But Daruel, accompanied by a dark, deadly glare, unleashed his fiery hands upon them. The sky shook with a war of light and fire.

Inside the church, the sight Toram saw through the window made her heart sink. When Saruel's bright face suddenly appeared at the window, he looked not like an angel, but a terrifying predator. In shock, she stumbled backward and fell.

Toram tried to run past the wooden pews lined up inside the church. Her eyes were fixed on the main exit door. Her heart pounded in her chest like a trapped beast. Every heartbeat seemed to scream at her, "Run! Escape!" The sound of her shoes striking the floor echoed loudly in the empty hall.

Freedom was only a few steps away. Just as she was about to reach out for the door handle, the air suddenly turned freezing cold.

From nowhere, a burning blue rope of flame shot out like a snake and wrapped tightly around her waist. Toram froze in terror. As she saw the fiery whip holding her waist, her entire body was drenched in sweat. The whip did not scorch her flesh, but it possessed a massive, inescapable pulling force.

In an instant, Toram was lifted off the ground and hovered in the air. She was forcefully yanked backward. Everything around her blurred. She saw the church ceiling and walls melting away like liquid. The speed was greater than any car or airplane.

After a long, dragged-out journey, Toram hung suspended in mid-air by a massive force behind her. The moment the force holding her let go, she collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Lying where she fell, Toram turned her face, trembling with absolute fear. But the one standing in front of her was not that colossal angel.

The Saruel she saw now had shrunk to the size of an ordinary human. He had a tall and slender physique, deep penetrating eyes, and white hair falling to his shoulders. His clothes looked as though they were woven from pure light. This sudden transformation confused Toram even more.

"No!... No!" Toram muttered frantically as she scrambled backward. "Escape Toram... escape!"

But as she started to run again, Saruel followed her like a shadow and appeared right in front of her. No matter how fast she tried to run, he stood before her without even taking a step.

Helpless, Toram fell to her knees. With tears streaming down her face, she pleaded, "Don't hurt me... don't hurt me! Please... please!"

But Saruel had no time for her pleas. The anxiety on his face was intense. The sound of explosions and Daruel's monstrous roaring from outside signaled that he was rapidly approaching. Saruel reached out his hand to Toram.

"Come! We don't have time!" he told her, his voice a commanding whisper like the wind.

Saruel grabbed Toram's hand firmly. With his right hand, he drew a circle in the air. Immediately, out of nowhere, an astonishing phenomenon occurred. A transparent, blue water tunnel resembling a whirlpool opened up in mid-air. The sound of the water roared like a mighty waterfall.

Holding onto Toram, Saruel leaped directly into the water vortex.

As they traveled through that tunnel made of water, it felt to Toram as though the world had turned completely upside down. She had no trouble breathing, but the force of the water spun her around wildly like a spindle.

Saruel, however, had his wings folded back, navigating through the rushing water with incredible agility. The walls of water around them displayed various images of the world; histories, lost cities, and unknown creatures flashed past in an instant.

Toram could not tell whether their journey lasted for hours or merely seconds. Suddenly, the intense force of the water pushed them forward. They broke through the wall of water and emerged.

As they landed, Saruel stepped onto the ground gracefully on his two feet. Toram, however, was violently tossed out by the force of the water and tumbled onto the ground.

The area was completely silent. The air was incredibly pure and carried a unique scent. When Toram looked up, what she saw took her breath away. The sky was purple, and two suns were visible on the horizon. The trees sparkled like glass, and their leaves seemed to be singing a melody.

They had arrived on another planet, an entirely different world. Though the war was left behind for the time being, Toram's journey was only just beginning. Saruel stepped closer to Toram, stood by her side, and gazed out into the distance.

"Welcome to your new home, Doctor Toram," Saruel said to her, his voice now a complex mixture of both triumph and deep sorrow.

To be continued…❤❤❤