CHAPTER 2 VOL 2-Heaven's Edge
After the shockwave tore through the square, hurling debris and terrified villagers in every direction, Rigorus screamed with every ounce of strength left in him… "EVERYONE… NOW! RUN!"
The air seemed to quiver around him as his Red Baptism flared, veins of molten crimson light crawling up his arms and fusing with his sword. The blood on his hands evaporated in a hiss, as though the weapon itself had awakened alive, hungry, divine. The light wasn't just a glow… it was a storm, bending reality. Even the broken buildings shivered under its presence.
Rigorus rose, pain screaming through every muscle, yet his eyes burned brighter than the crimson aura surrounding him. Each swing of his sword left streaks of red that lingered like molten lava, slicing through debris, smashing the shattered ground, and cutting through the darkness of the clouds above. The Red Baptism wasn't just a weapon… it was a warning. Any who dared approach now would feel the wrath of a force that had consumed him, reshaped him, and made him more than mortal.
Even in the aftermath, the square was empty. The villagers had fled… but Kaelvron's shadow still loomed over them all. And Rigorus, standing among the ruins, was ready to unleash the full, terrible truth of his power.
Rigorus lunged… his sword blazing with the molten crimson of Red Baptism. Every strike he delivered carried the weight of his fury, the screams of the fallen, the prayers of his people. Sparks flew as his blade met Kaelvron's defenses… a clashing storm of steel and light. The ground beneath them cracked and split with every step, shards of stone launching into the air like deadly confetti.
For a heartbeat, it felt even. Rigorus carved shallow lines across Kaelvron's chest and arms… blood flicking like molten droplets in the morning sun. But almost immediately, the wounds healed, silk-smooth and untarnished. The man before him moved with a predatory grace, every motion deliberate, impossible, inhuman. Rigorus's vision blurred as disbelief gnawed at him. How… how is this even possible?
He pressed forward, driving Kaelvron back with a series of rapid strikes, the air itself screaming around the swinging blade. Kaelvron stood, unmoved… letting each attack hit, shrugging off blows that would have shattered any mortal's bones. One swing tore his robe and left a gash on his chest—but before Rigorus could even register the damage, the flesh knitted itself together.
Rigorus staggered, his breath catching, eyes wide. The Red Baptism flared brighter, searing the ground with molten trails, but it felt… futile. Kaelvron's eyes narrowed, and his voice cut through the chaos like a knife:"Pathetic… utterly pathetic… to call yourself a Draeven and fight like this."
With a single motion, he stepped back. The world seemed to pause, waiting. Then the air tore itself apart as he unleashed a strike that bent the very atmosphere…
"Crimson Tempest!"
Rigorus's gut erupted in pain. Knees buckling, blood spilling from his mouth and eyes, his halo flickering and dying, the sword slipping from his trembling hands. The reality hit him—this was no man. This was a force of nature… relentless, untouchable, merciless.
Rigorus knelt, ragged and broken, gasping for breath he didn't have… when Kaelvron grabbed his head like a ragdoll and flung him skyward. The air tore at his body, arms stretched wide, the wind pressing him into an impossible, angelic pose. For a fleeting second, he looked like a celestial being ascending—terrifyingly beautiful, cruelly radiant.
When will it ever stop? he thought. All this killing… all this violence… I thought I was strong enough to protect everything I hold dear…
Tears carved tracks down his face, but a smile twisted across his lips. It was a smile that carried two polar opposites at once—pain and malice, despair and fury, anguish and the cold, calculated cruelty of someone who had touched the edge of divinity. Against the air itself, he raised his hand toward the heavens.
"Father…" he whispered, the word swallowed by the winds…
Before he could finish, Kaelvron descended, a living storm of wrath, and launched a punch that struck Rigorus square in the gut. His eyes went white as consciousness slipped away. Even in his freefall—rock-like, impossibly heavy—his hand remained raised, pointing toward the sky. His smile lingered… cold, eerie, unbroken.
He hit the ground with the force of a falling mountain. The shockwave shattered stone, leveled buildings within three meters, and rippled through the air so far that distant oceans trembled. Kaelvron hovered above, watching, fury and disbelief flickering across his face.
Kaelvron shook his head, muttering, "Tch…" and turned toward Celestia, intent on pursuit. But then… for just half a second, the impossible happened. From the sky itself, a sword of glowing crimson light, with no physical form yet blazing like molten fire, shot straight for Kaelvron's head. He barely twisted his neck in time to avoid it, the air itself screaming past him, scorching his skin. The wound grazed by the sword burned violently, refusing to heal.
The blade crashed into the earth with a force that split the ground like a miniature earthquake. Stones shattered, the soil scorched in a three-meter radius, and the sword vanished after five seconds, leaving silence in its wake. Rigorus's hand, still pointed skyward, dropped. The cold, eerie smile that had twisted his lips disappeared. His heart had stopped. His body lay motionless, yet the strike had already done its work.
Kaelvron froze. Mid-chase. Shock and disbelief flashed across his features. Fear—brief, unnatural—tightened his chest. Where… where does Rigorus draw this strength? This will?
Slowly, carefully, Kaelvron descended, moving toward Rigorus's fallen form with precision and calculation, each step measured. Even now, he could not shake the realization: this boy, unconscious and beaten, had just halted him—a godlike force hidden within human flesh.