Zay's eyes widened as the circle of spikes reached its apex—power humming in the air like a scream held back by the edge of a blade. Frost clawed its way higher up his legs, locking muscle and bone, but he clenched his teeth and forced his aura to burn brighter.
Violet and midnight-blue energy erupted around him, shattering the ice around his thighs as he let out a guttural breath. Evershade pulsed in his grip, its edges wrapped in flickering veins of violet and midnight-blue glow.
His eyes locked onto the closest stone pillar, half-frozen but sturdy. Ice cracked beneath his boots with each stride—but it was too slick, the floor now a killing field of frost.
He was two steps away from cover when his heel skidded.
"Oh SHIT!" Zay's feet slipped out from under him. He crashed onto the cold floor just as the spikes launched.
A torrent of frost-spikes slammed into his body, impaling through aura defenses like sharpened spears of divine judgment. Lightning surged through the impact points, violently spasming his limbs as his back arched against the floor. His scream was swallowed by the howling blizzard as frost crept over his skin again, seeking to claim him fully.
The storm of power faded into a low, humming wind. Snowflakes drifted in the air like falling ash.
And from above, Seraphae slowly descended.
Her bare feet kissed the ice with a divine grace, her long glacial-blue hair drifting behind her like a cloak of winter itself. In her right hand, an elegant spear of ice shimmered into being, sculpted from pure frost and edged in hate.
She stepped toward Zay, her gait slow, deliberate—each movement laced with the authority of divinity and the venom of a judge who had already passed sentence.
"You filthy… filthy mistake," she hissed, her voice low and trembling with contempt. "You should not breathe. Should not think. Should not even exist."
She raised her spear.
The tip gleamed with electric frost, arcs of icy lightning crackling along its edge as the chill intensified. Her eyes—once distant and unreadable—now seethed with a sacred fury, something ancient and absolute. This was not anger. It was conviction.
"You carry the scent of ruin," she whispered. "I smell it in your soul."
Another step.
The blizzard howled behind her, the halo of frost above still spinning in silence.
"I will carve this error out of the world."
She halted just above him. Zay's fingers twitched toward Evershade, still pulsing weakly at his side—but her bare foot pressed down, nudging it out of reach. The sword skidded across the frozen floor with a lonely echo.
Her gaze never wavered.
"A single death won't cleanse you, monster…" she murmured, her voice dipping into something almost reverent. "No. I shall use my Divine Trait—Judicator's Requiem—and grant you countless deaths until your sins have been burned from this world."
She leaned closer, lowering the spear to his throat as mist curled from her breath.
"Do not worry," she whispered, lips curling into a cruel smile as she started to breath heavily at the thought.
"I'll save the filth that you are… one death at a time."
Her voice was a whisper laced with ice, and her eyes widened with a perverse thrill. She licked her lips slowly, hungrily, as if savoring the torment to come. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, eager breaths. Then, without hesitation, she plunged the spear through Zay's throat. The tip pierced clean through, erupting from the back of his neck and splitting his skull from spine in a smooth, dreadful arc. Blood sprayed across the frozen floor like crimson petals on snow.
Her breath grew heavier—shuddering, trembling with fervent purpose—as she stared down at his lifeless, decapitated form.
"I'll save you," she whispered again, this time with an almost reverent madness.
The frost in the chamber pulsed as Seraphae activated her Divine Trait—[Judicator's Requiem]. A faint chime echoed like a funeral bell reversed in time. Zay's body jerked violently. His eyes snapped open. Painless resurrection. Agonizing clarity.
His hand twitched. Evershade. He reached for it.
"This… won't do!" Seraphae hissed, and the ice around her detonated outward in a jagged ring. Shards flared like razors. Evershade froze mid-flight, locked in crystal. Her hand shot forward and clamped around Zay's throat.
"You think death makes you stronger?" she said, her voice close to his ear, low and furious.
Her fingernails shifted—translucent, deadly icicles. They burrowed into the flesh of his neck, fracturing his bones with a sickening crunch. Zay convulsed in her grip as the icy claws emerged from the other side of his throat, spraying blood onto her cheek. She smiled.
"Let's try again."
With a grunt, she slammed him into the ground hard enough to crack the ice beneath them. His body bounced slightly before she invoked [Judicator's Requiem] again—his eyes glowing dimly as his soul was forcefully restored once more.
Before he could even gasp, she drove her spear straight through his heart. The point vanished beneath his ribs as his torso arched in reflex. Frost surged from the wound, crawling through his veins, encasing him from the inside out.
Seraphae leaned closer, her heavy breath brushing over near his face.
"You don't get to die yet, monster. You'll be reborn until every layer of sin is peeled off and I see the truth beneath your filth."
Zay's eyes flared open again—his body jerked upright with a gasp as reality snapped back into place like a snapped bone. Pain met him late, dulled by the unnatural numbness of resurrection, but his mind screamed with memory, the floor beneath him was slick with blood. His chest heaved, eyes darting—searching for anything, anyone. But there was only her.
Hovering above, her expression twisted into rapture. Her cheeks were flushed, her breaths ragged. A thin trail of blood had splashed across her lips, and she hadn't bothered to wipe it away.
"More," she whispered. "I can still see your filth clinging to your soul."
Zay groaned, trying to move, trying to rise—his fingers clawed against the ice—but she was already on him. One hand pressed him flat against the frost while the other summoned another spear. No flourish this time. No theatrics.
She drove it down—again.
Zay screamed as the weapon skewered through his shoulder and pinned him to the floor. His voice echoed through the chamber, raw and desperate, but it only made her eyes glow brighter.
"That's it," she murmured, tilting her head as though listening to a divine symphony. "Your screams are purer than your soul. It's... beautiful."
A quiet moan escaped her lips as blood bubbled from the wound and coated her hands and landed on her lips. She licked it off of her lips and smeared it between her fingers like sacred ink.
"I wonder…" She leaned in, her voice dripping like icicles in spring, "...how long it'll take before the screams stop. Before that brave little fire in your eyes burns out."
Another activation of [Judicator's Requiem].
His wounds closed. His soul pulled back from the brink—again. Zay's face contorted, a mix of fury and terror, but Seraphae only laughed softly. It wasn't a loud or cruel sound—worse, it was almost… delighted.
She caressed his jaw, her touch a mockery of kindness.
"I'm helping you," she cooed. "And I'm going to keep helping you… over, and over, and over again."
Then she plunged her hand into his gut, fingers formed into frost-tipped claws, wrenching at something unseen. Zay convulsed violently.
"You'll thank me when this is over," she whispered, her breath ghosting against his ear like the kiss of a blizzard.
[Judicator's Requiem]
Zay's body reformed once more beneath her, the light of resurrection dimming from his veins. He coughed violently, blood spattering onto his chin as his lungs filled again. His body trembled in her arms—numb, broken, cold—but his eyes…
They snapped open.
"I'm not—" he hissed, jaw clenched through pain. "I'm not a damn monster!"
The words cut through the frozen air, rough and defiant.
Seraphae's face twisted instantly. Her lashes fluttered, and her lips parted—not in surprise, but in sheer offense. She blinked once… slowly… and then smiled. A bitter, quiet smile devoid of warmth.
Her voice came soft, too soft.
"That tone?..." she whispered. "You dare shout? I'm trying to help you."
Without warning, she plunged the spear into his stomach, pinning him to the ice beneath. Zay screamed, back arching in agony.
"I grant you mercy," she said in a breathless whisper as she activated [Judicator's Requiem]. "And still, you speak with venom?"
Light flooded his body once again as his wounds closed. She cradled him this time—gently, mockingly—as if he were a broken child she refused to abandon. Her fingers brushed back the blood-soaked strands of hair from his face.
Her tone turned sing-song. "Now. Let's try again. Speak… but speak kindly, won't you?"
Zay's jaw trembled. He clenched his teeth and sucked in a shaky breath.
"You-"
That was all he got out.
The moment the first syllable passed his lips, her expression darkened like a storm. Her entire arm shimmered with frost—ice forming from her shoulder down to her hand, encasing it completely.
Without hesitation, she drove her hand into his chest. The ice-covered claws passed through flesh and bone as easily as water, and she grasped his heart.
Zay's eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream.
Then— crack.
His heart froze solid in an instant, the sound sharp and final.
Zay died again in her arms.
Seraphae exhaled, lips parted with twisted relief as she withdrew her hand, letting his lifeless body slump against her.
She looked down at him, her fingers trailing the new blood stains along his throat.
"Good," she whispered. "Now we try again."
Seraphae's wings fanned out behind her, glowing faintly with a pale, icy aura. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, lashes trembling as though savoring a sacred ritual.
[Judicator's Requiem]
A soft pulse of divine power rippled through the chamber. Frost curled outward from her bare feet as Zay's chest rose—once again. Slowly. Painfully. His lungs convulsed as breath returned, accompanied by a ragged gasp that sounded more like a curse against the heavens than a sign of life.
His fingers twitched. His head turned slightly, eyes blinking rapidly in confusion—then horror.
He was alive again.
Zay's mouth trembled as he tried to speak, each syllable heavy with agony. "I... I'm not a damn monster…" as the painless resurrections had ended.
Seraphae's smile returned—slight, graceful, and lined with cold malice. Her expression didn't twist in anger. No—she leaned in, her forehead resting gently against his, her hand already weaving through his hair as though comforting a child who didn't yet understand the truth.
"You're not?" she murmured sweetly, a smile appeared across her face, her voice low and melodic. "Then speak like someone worth saving."
Her free hand moved with gentle, terrible precision, trailing from his jaw to his chest.
"I want to hear it again. Kinder this time."
Zay, trembling, tried to rise—his body barely holding together as blood dripped from his throat where her last wound hadn't fully healed. He clenched his jaw, his voice hoarse and defiant: "Go to he-"
He didn't finish.
The moment the first syllable hit the air, Seraphae's expression hardened. Her hand, slammed straight into his chest—crunch—ice shot outward through his ribs and seized his heart in a frozen grip.
His back arched violently, a scream wrenched from his lungs, then silence.
Once again, he was dead.
Seraphae looked at him, breathing heavily, her hands soaked in crimson and frost. Her pupils trembled—euphoric, almost drunk on the ritual. She pulled his corpse closer into her arms, wiping strands of blood from his lips as if it were nothing more than dirt on a child's cheek.
She whispered softly, again and again, "I will save you… I will save you…"