'What the hell is that?!' Ren stared in utter horror at the horrific orb of blood that now hung in the sky like an open wound, pulsing with a slow, monstrous rhythm. Its grotesque surface kept writhing and massive tendrils kept whipping through the air.
As if that were not horrifying enough, thousands of faces began forming within the churning mass, straining against the flesh of the orb. Some resembled children, others elders. They twisted and screamed in agony, their cries echoing from the crimson core across the entire district.
Ren looked down to see everyone bolting desperately in every direction, crashing into one another, some stumbling, others falling and injuring themselves as they tried to flee. Cars screeched to life as panicked drivers slammed doors and floored the accelerator, while some even abandoned their children, turning their backs to run alone.
Then he noticed something even more horrifying.
Those injured in the chaos, no matter how small, bled… but the blood did not fall. Instead, it rose from their bodies in thin, trembling streams, lifting into the air as if summoned. At first, only fragile threads escaped, drifting upward. Then more blood began to flow, spilling in steady streams, until the victims collapsed, completely drained of all the blood within them.
He saw a teenager trip over a bicycle and scream, but before he could even sit up, the blood from his knee siphoned out in a painful jet, leaving him limp and cold. Another woman shielding her baby cried out as a sharp elbow hit her cheek. The small split under her eye flared, then blood gushed upward until she fell to the floor, dead.
Within moments, pale bodies littered the streets, their blood rising into the sky toward the orb, where it was consumed and added to the pulsing mass.
'Wha… what is this...? How is this even possible?' Ren took a cautious step back. The series of events that were currently happening left him unable to even think properly. He snapped his eyes shut, fighting his urge to hurl at the sight of so many dead bodies. Not only had he never seen a dead body before but this was just too much, this was a nightmare.
Meanwhile, Simon, who stood beside him clutching Anya by the wrist, reached out with his other hand to Rhesa's shoulder and yelled in a desperate voice, "We need to get out of here, Hon! We have to get the kids to safety, now!"
But Rhesa didn't move. She turned to him slowly, joining her hands together and spoke in an unnervingly calm voice. "We can't, my love. We can't." She glanced down at Ren and Anya, her eyes full of grief. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."
Ren blinked. 'What the fuck?' The way she said it chilled him. 'What the hell is even happening right now? What does she mean by she will protect us? How could she possibly protect us from this?!'
Nothing made sense anymore, and his questions kept piling up. Why wasn't she panicking? Why weren't they running away? Why did her voice sound so calm, almost practiced, while the sky screamed and people collapsed all around them?
He was still thinking all this when the next shift came.
He glanced up and saw that the orb in the sky had begun flattening and spreading, unfurling like a massive curtain of blood across the entire district. In less than a minute, a roiling crimson veil blanketed the sky, swallowing the clouds behind it.
If escaping before had seemed difficult with the orb, now it was impossible with the blood-red veil stretching across the entire district.
Still, Ren finally managed to pull himself together and blurted out, "M—Mom, I uh… I think we should get out of here."
But Rhesa didn't answer him. Instead, she reached for the silver necklace on her neck, shaped like a cross, and pulled it out. The moment she did, a deep crack rang out as a nearby car's windshield shattered. Then slowly, the vehicle began to rise, floating in the air as if held by an unseen force.
Not long after, another car followed, then another. One by one, dozens of cars, near and far, lifted into the air as if gravity had simply stopped. They hung for a beat, then crumpled violently, imploding into compact steel blocks.
Some of the cars still had people inside, fleeing the city or hiding from the veil above. They didn't even have time to escape. They screamed as the metal caved in around them, crushing their bodies and killing them all.
But it wasn't just the cars lifting into the air. Everything metallic around began to groan and twist before rising. Screws wrenched free from doorframes and floated upward, streetlights snapped backward like broken spears, and scaffolding peeled off buildings, following suit. Within seconds, every scrap of metal in the district was pulled into the sky. Buildings began to collapse one after another, burying families who had taken shelter inside. Those who were not trapped or crushed ran, only to be torn apart by flying shrapnel.
Then Rhesa took a few careful steps away from her family and whispered, "Warden's Carapace."
Instantly, some of the metal suspended above them began to churn, spinning like a storm of jagged razors. Then they descended, slamming into the ground and stacking around Simon, Ren, and Anya. Before the three of them, still frozen in shock, could even register what was happening, more shards piled on, layer by layer, until a dome like a turtle's shell sealed around them.
Rhesa then took a trembling breath. Her hands remained clasped, the necklace held tightly between them. She lifted her gaze to the spiraling metal overhead, waiting for her command, and braced herself to unleash her dominion technique.
Dominion Techniques were high-tier catastrophes, invoked only by those who had reached the Fifth Stage of power. And since Anele had already unleashed his Throne of the Bleeding Sky, a dominion forged from agony and suspended in clouds that wept blood, she had no choice but to unleash hers if she wanted to survive and protect her family.
She sighed, raised her clasped hands to her lips, and then slowly whispered, "Throne of the Iron Gospel."
The moment the words left her lips, the air fractured and the swirling metal above condensed into three distinct whirlwinds, each one shrieking with rotational force. Then they began to collide, stack and fuse seamlessly, forming three colossal figures made of jagged pieces of metal and scrap.
The first, a colossal knight fifty meters tall, had armor that was a jagged patchwork of rail steel and train hulls. Its lance, forged from sharpened girders and anchored with coiled wire, let out a high-pitched shriek as it slashed the air, the sound alone enough to rattle windows across the district.
Beside it, a shieldbearer rose, thirty meters tall, squat and broad. Its torso was plated with welded train doors, and its left arm supported a massive tower shield, its surface engraved with pulsing runes etched in glowing alloy. As it shifted, magnetic pulses hummed beneath its joints, sending flickers of blue light across its frame.
Behind them, a towering archer unfolded from a tangle of cables and scaffold rods. Its bow was strung with taut, sparking wire, and its arrow, composed of fused copper rail and neon filament, glowed with a crackling magnetic charge. The construct stood still, aiming toward the horizon, as if already anticipating a threat not yet visible.
Above them, more metal hovered, rails, cars, wiring, plates caught in the swirling field. They orbited slowly, rotating with eerie precision, forming concentric rings in the sky, waiting for a command.
Across the ruined park, Anele tilted his head, eyes wide with something disturbingly close to reverence.
"The Throne of the Iron Gospel," he murmured, almost in awe. "I've heard it's devastating. I've always wanted to see what it could do." He grinned. "Today's going to be fun."
Rhesa scowled. She raised the necklace, and the cross began to transform into a slender longsword. Almost instantly, intricate pieces of silver armor materialized over her pristine blue dress, turning her into a silver-clad champion. She leveled the sword at Anele, eyes burning with resolve.
Anele grinned, raised a hand and above, the Blood Sky convulsed and a massive drop broke free from the mass and hurtled toward him, streaking like a meteor. It struck, then burst. Part of it fanned out behind him, forming jagged, asymmetrical wings of writhing blood. The rest coiled in his grip, reshaping into a massive, double-curved scythe that hissed with vaporized vitae.
He exhaled, gritted his teeth and muttered in a voice that was less dry than before but tinged with somberness. "You shouldn't have left us Rhesa, you shouldn't have left me! I hate to be the one to have to get rid of you."
He launched into the sky, wings flaring wide, blood trailing behind him like ink spilled in water.
Then twenty meters up, he pointed his blood scythe toward the battlefield and roared, "Hands of Divine Judgment!"
And the veil of blood rumbled…