That night, every door in Clifton seemed to open in unison, accompanied by everyone leaving their homes and gathering in the center of the village. In their hands, they held small items intrinsic with their memories, whether important to them, symbolic to their profession, or belonging to a deceased relative.

  I slowly descended down the stairs of the safehouse, rubbing my eyes as I stepped out into the cold. I habitually shivered for a moment, but I pulled up the coat I was wearing, ensuring I was warm enough. The Blood Moon charm didn’t activate at this moment due to my current tiredness; it would take an immense amount of spirituality to commence with such an action upon first taking up.

  The snow crunched beneath my feet as I approached the center of the town, gazing upon the citizens standing in a circle, all holding miscellaneous items. At this moment, a figure parted the crowd, walking to the center of the circle and announcing in a solemn voice.

  “The Flamesrite Passage commences now.”

  They pulled down their hood, revealing a pair of light-blue eyes, black hair, and a lean expresssion—it was Ice Eyes. Another figure emerged in a blaze of crimson flames, it was Kael. Strangely, he immediately looked in my direction, beckoning me to the center of the circle alongside him. I slowly walked forward, the colors and noises all somewhat blurry around me.

  “A toast, to the crimson.” Kael waved his hands, conjuring a shot glass filled with the reddish-colored water. He handed one to me, gesturing for me to drink it.

  Beside me, Ice Eyes took a hearty sip, smiling as he threw the shot glass to the ground, its glass body shattering and scattering small fragments everywhere. The fragments glistened in the crimson moonlight, which seemed to shine brighter tonight.

  Everyone else in the crowd erupted with cheers and celebration. Ice Eyes turned his head, glancing towards a father who was carrying a small sheep in his arms. It was a baby sheep, its eyes closed as it slept serenely. The gaunt man stepped forward, slowly taking the sheep from the farmer's grasp.

  The crowd all unanimously took a step back, giving the three of us room.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked, looking at Kael with a faint curiosity in my eyes.

  “The Lord demands a sacrifice.” Kael’s tone was indifferent as he replied, extending a hand that exploded with crimson and black flames.

  At this moment, the snow beneath us began to glow, passively melting away to reveal the Apocalypse sigil inscribed into the dirt road beneath. Ice Eyes set the sleeping fawn in the center of the glowing sigil, kneeling beside it as he closed his eyes, humming under his breath.

  At the same time, the crowd walked forward, setting down their items in a circle around the sigil inscribed in the road.

  “The lord maintains a connection here; he commends your selflessness. Items splayed here, artifacts of sacrifice and connection, fuel the bond between you and divinity. Let us close our eyes in prayer, as He watches us with a smile.”

  A sudden, pressuring sensation engulfed my body, making me tense a bit. It felt as if someone had been slowly squeezing my skull with a hydraulic press. Everyone in the crowd closed their eyes, kneeling beside the sigi.

  “You too.” Kael turned to me, nodding his head. His crimson eyes betrayed no tint of hesitation or fear within them.

  I hesitantly closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I felt the sigil on my forehead and left hand begin to pulse and glow, a burning sensation that didn’t char the skin. My breath slowed, as if I were falling asleep yet maintaining full consciousness.

  “The Lord honors your sacrifice." Ice Eyes’s voice suddenly became illusory as he re-opened his eyes, which shone with a bright crimson color.

  The resting sheep within the circle suddenly erupted with crimson flames, bleating and calling out in pain as it tried to stand up. The crowd of people didn’t move a muscle, their eyes still closed in honorific prayer. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could hear everything. Suddenly, behind my eyelids, flashes of red light emerged, taking the form of the burning sheep.

  I saw its testicular region as it writhed and tried its hardest to stop the flames from outright consuming its entire body. The region suddenly emitted cracks that pulsed upwards like a pillar of energy, consuming the entirety of the sheep's skin and outline. The pained noises of the sheep abruptly ceased as it fell slack.

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  When I reopened my eyes, I watched with a pale face as the surface of the sheep's skin grew cold and hard, countless fungi sprouting from cracks in its skin. It looked exactly like Helan’s dog’s situation back in Seraphis Kingdom.

  The large sigil on the ground stopped glowing, the outlines and sketches fading into the road. Everyone else in the crowd opened their eyes, smiling in succession. The flickering in Ice Eyes’s expression stopped, his light-blue pupils returning to normal. Kael also opened his eyes, taking a step back. He looked at me, nodding.

  “Our sacrifice to the Lord has concluded.”

  When I looked back at the circle, I noticed that all of the spread items had also disappeared.

  …

  “That was an… innocent sheep.” I could hardly comprehend what I had just seen.

  Kael, leaning against the door, scoffed. “An innocent life and the life of a king are no different. They’re both living, both organisms.”

  He took a step forward, floorboards creaking under his polished boots. “But only a God or an Angel are beings that aren’t regular, that deserve respect and praise. That’s why we sacrificed that sheep, to appease Him.”

  I took a deep breath, glancing at the Umbridge, who had taken form in the corner. Kael also looked towards him, clicking his tongue.

  “I’m going to tell him; I know he’s dying to find out.”

  The illusory figure huffed, dissipating into the shadows. Kael approached the door, closing it and locking it shut. He also approached the curtains, closing them and sealing off the crimson moonlight filtering through the window. Kael extended his palm, allowing crimson flames and energy to dissipate into a singular candle.

  The candle had black wax with a red flame that burnt calmly. Kael set it on the bedside table, inhaling the smoke before speaking.

  “It was wise of you to only read a fraction of my journal,” He suddenly said.

  “Anyways…” Kael looked at me, sitting on the bed beside me. He spoke in a low, collected voice. “The world as we know is ancient. It had crawled with beings of unfathomable power, mindless creatures, and even humans that struggled to survive.”

  The air around me cooled, making me shiver. I could still tell I was half-intoxicated from the drink I had consumed before falling asleep. The feeling in my stomach was like a pit, but the feelings running through my brain were euphoric.

  Kael continued speaking. “Among those beings are Angels, or one in particular. “His name was Khorvath, Angel of the Apocalypse pathway.

  “He was powerful, unchallenged, He would slay powerful beasts for sport, drink the best rum, eat the heartiest meals just because his presence was enough to make even a deity shiver.”

  Kael reached into his pocket, taking out a small folded piece of paper. He handed it to me, letting me unfold it. I saw that it was a black and white photograph. The photograph showed an ancient temple wall, and on the walls were patterns and inscriptions of countless battles and conflicts. Dragons soared through the sky, warriors fought tooth and nail for their countries.

  But what starkly contrasted them was a figure standing atop a mountain of corpses, a spear twice His height in hand. His hair was long and blood-red in color, fading into a black as deadly as night. He was clad in armor, and a pair of goat-like horns protruded from His head. A pair of bat-like wings sprouted from His lower back.

  “They called Him the Unchallenged, the Unconquerable. His presence was enough to make calamities—towering waves, ravaging earthquakes, and infighting amongst troops. One could not resist listening to Khorvath, as they knew the only other option was a fate worse than death.”

  “He sounds… terrifying.” The idea of a figure like this, someone who seemingly rivaled the pro-heroes back in my reality, made me shiver.

  “That’s because He was. He knew of the power that He possessed, and He used it to his gains.”

  Kael reached for his journal, handing it to me. “I presume you read my first ever entry?”

  I quickly recalled its contents. Kael had described advancing to Order 9 of the Apocalypse pathway alongside a deity he only addressed as Him. At this moment, my eyes widened.

  “Was it… Khorvath that helped you?”

  Kael clasped his hands together, smiling. “Indeed, He could be considered my mentor… He was also my father.”

  “Y-your father?” I felt my heart sink, feeling as if a bolt of lightning had surged over my being.

  Kael nodded, humming under his breath. “He helped me advance to a demi-god before His death in the Cataclysm.”

  I remained silent, hands clasped together with a slight tremble. I wanted to speak, but the words were stuck in my throat. After a few minutes, Kael stood up, sighing softly.

  “We’ll begin your potion digestion exercises tomorrow. Get some rest.”

  I looked up at him, nodding slowly. The pit in my stomach remained, a constant sensation of painful pressure. I didn’t know Kael was a direct descendent of such a powerful person.

  “Feel free to read deeper; you’ll know when to stop.” Kael tossed me his journal, the dusty book landing on the bed beside me. I looked down at it for a moment, my stomach spinning and churning.

  After a moment, Kael finally left the room, leaving me alone.

  “His father’s terrifying," I said to the Umbridge, who reappeared in the corner of the room.

  The enigmatic figure nodded. “Only an Angel can make people feel true fear.”

  I looked to Kael’s journal, hands trembling as I moved to open it. I turned to the second journal entry, taking a deep breath.

  At this point, I’ve forgotten about the dates.

  My potion digestion of Order 9 has been quite the pleasant experience with His help. He had taken me to a place He deemed as the Graveyard of Scales. Before me, I saw the corpses of countless dragons, hollowed, left as skeletons across a barren, dried-up landscape. He had explained His profession when the days grew weary.

  On days when the sun's heat wasn’t enough to fuel his bloodlust, He would journey to areas heavy with dragons, slaying them in cold blood and bringing their hearts back to His lover's homestead. Speaking of such an individual, my mother is such a doll, in both appearance and in terms of mannerisms. Her eyes are a dazzling blue, like the azure sky above us.

  That night, the Adligon Clans shall feast on the hearty meat of the dragons!