NOVEL NEXT CHAPTER 262: PREPARATION
The vault—a masterwork created by the hands of experienced, skillful artisans of every race and grade.
It was no mere storage chamber, but a monument of craftsmanship, precision, and paranoia. Forged through endless cycles of creation, revision, and destruction, it had been refined to perfection. Every loophole—every conceivable vulnerability—was patched and sealed. The vault had undergone countless iterations until its creators could boast with certainty: nothing of its kind would ever exist again.
Their reward?
Death.
Executed the moment their work was complete, ensuring that none who had touched the process could ever reveal a secret. Only the Celestial King remained—its sole keeper, the lone bearer of its design and purpose.
Why such obsessive caution?
Because of what, or rather who, was sealed within.
Though pronounced dead long ago, the First Celestial had never truly died. His state could only be described as a liminal existence—neither alive nor fully dead. A being locked in stasis, waiting. And should even the weakest healer cast a simple healing spell on his fully assembled body—one without a single missing piece—then the First Celestial would rise again.
As the first being of the universe, death was beyond him unless the universe itself perished—or unless a force equal to or greater than the universe, such as the authority of Law, was used to strike him down.
The Celestial King placed his hand upon the massive vault door. A quiet hum resonated through the chamber as intricate enchantments faded one by one, dissolving with graceful precision. Hidden mechanisms activated, shifting gears and seals in perfect synchronization.
The colossal doors creaked open, revealing the legendary vault's interior.
He stepped forward, his regal presence unshaken, with Grey maintaining a strict thirty-centimeter distance behind him.
They entered a vast chamber filled with radiant treasures. Artifacts, weapons, and relics from every era shimmered under enchanted lighting—each one powerful enough to alter the tide of war, each locked away to preserve balance. And yet, the Celestial King didn't spare them a single glance.
He walked with determined purpose, deeper and deeper, until they reached the heart of the vault.
There, they found a brightly illuminated room—walls smooth and spotless, enchanted to preserve the contents within. Dozens of boxes, all meticulously arranged, lined the chamber. Each one bore a label, handwritten in celestial script.
Each label named a specific body part—disassembled components of the First Celestial.
The Celestial King studied them in silence, his eyes narrowing as he considered their potential.
"Now," he murmured, his voice reverent but calculating, "which would be most suitable for you?"
Grey, though respectful, stepped forward and bowed his head slightly. "Forgive my intrusion, my Lord, but if we are to succeed… we'll need something more precise. An ability that can limit Rebecca's senses—or better yet, shut them down entirely. Otherwise, she'll dodge any sneak attack we attempt."
The Celestial King nodded, thoughtful. "Hmm… You're right. In that case, no part of the First Celestial's body would suffice." A faint smile touched his lips. "Consider yourself fortunate."
He turned away from the rows of labeled boxes and walked toward a plain, unimposing stretch of wall. To the untrained eye, it was just stone—but the Celestial King knew better.
He closed his eyes and placed his hand on the wall. Soft energy pulsed from his palm, and the hidden enchantments responded.
A low rumble echoed through the chamber.
To Grey's astonishment, the wall split open—stone folding away like paper to reveal a passage that no one would have suspected existed.
They entered the hidden chamber, its ceiling lower, its atmosphere more sacred—almost reverent. The air here was heavy with power, pressing down upon them like the weight of countless centuries.
At the far end, a pool shimmered with a golden glow, as if sunlight itself had been distilled into liquid form. The pool radiated an aura unlike anything Grey had felt—majestic, celestial, yet dangerous.
"This," the Celestial King said solemnly, "is the blood of the First Celestial. It will do more than empower you—it will conceal your fate. Your actions, your future… all will be hidden from even the sharpest of divine eyes."
He gestured toward the pool. "Bathe in it. There isn't much time left."
Grey nodded with quiet determination. He stepped to the pool's edge, inhaled deeply, and lowered himself into the golden fluid.
The moment it touched his skin, a wave of overwhelming sensation struck him.
Power.
Pure, raw, unfiltered power.
It coursed through his veins like fire and lightning, amplifying his strength, sharpening his senses, and deepening his resolve. The feeling was almost intoxicating—soothing and exhilarating all at once. He could feel the very nature of his being evolving with each second spent immersed.
The Celestial King watched him silently, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
---
Boom!
The Demon King's body was hurled across the battlefield like a broken toy, slamming into the earth with a thunderous crash. Dirt and stone erupted around him as he skidded across the ground, finally coming to a stop in a battered heap.
His body trembled—spent. The boosts he'd drawn from the sins of Pride, Wrath, and Gluttony had already worn off. Even the latent power he'd channeled from Envy had long since been drained.
He had nothing left to draw from.
He had unleashed everything he possessed—yet Rebecca hadn't even bled.
She hadn't even tried.
Meanwhile, he had been flung through mountains, pummeled into the ground, and shattered like glass. And worst of all, she was still holding back—her strikes more playful than serious.
"Why is the Celestial King taking so long?" Rebecca's voice rang out across the battlefield, casual yet laced with lethal boredom. She spun her father's sword effortlessly in one hand, eyes narrowed with mild irritation. "Surely, it doesn't take this long to prepare a plan? I'm getting bored. I might just wipe everything out in a flash, you know?"
"Damn it…" the Demon King growled, forcing himself back to his feet, bones cracking as he rose.
He wasn't the only one tired of waiting. He was sick of this role. Sick of being a punching bag.
Rebecca raised her head slightly. "Seems like it's time to bring this to an end."
Her gaze shifted toward the battlefield—and the Demon King, following it, froze in horror.
The war was over.
The Dark Dragon King had crushed Asmodeus.
Every demon lord—every single one—had been brought to their knees. The eleven celestials that had sided with them lay sprawled across the battlefield, battered, broken, and barely alive.
Rebecca's victory was all but complete. Her army was moving in to clean up the remaining forces—her numbered puppets slaughtering the survivors without emotion or mercy.
The Demon King clenched his jaw, dread settling in his chest. If the Celestial King and Grey didn't arrive soon, there would be no battle left to save.
Rebecca lifted her hand. Shadows surged around her as dozens of spears formed from condensed darkness—crackling with ominous energy.
Without warning, she launched them.
The Demon King barely moved in time, twisting his body mid-air to avoid them. One spear missed his chest by mere millimeters, slicing a strand of his hair as it screamed past.
He landed hard, panting—his expression far from relieved.
Rebecca was done playing.
Another wave of spears manifested instantly. Their speed was staggering—too fast for his weakened eyes to follow. He could only rely on instinct now, letting his battered body move on reflex.
He dodged again—barely.
But there wasn't enough time to evade the next volley.
With a snarl, the Demon King raised both arms in front of him, hoping to deflect, slow, something—anything to dull the incoming storm.
He knew this next hit could be the last.
But even if he fell, he'd buy them one more breath.
One more second.