Chapter 751: The Will of God (2)
A strange phenomenon appeared in the skies above the capital of the United Kingdom.
Though evening had settled with time, the sky was unnaturally dark. It wasn’t simply the onset of nightfall. It was an alien darkness, as if a hole had opened in the heavens. An oppressive darkness, so consuming that one could feel as though they might be drawn into it just by looking.
...
In eerie resonance with the altered sky, a fire broke out on the ground, intensifying with each moment. Fierce flames roared, filling the air with an indescribable noise, and the ominous heat warped the very space around it. It was impossible to tell if this was mere illusion or reality, but the focal point of the devastation was unmistakably the heart of the capital—the palace.
...
The palace, a place of sanctity once inhabited by the Queen of the United Kingdom and her sons, the recent coronation site, and now a battlefield between citizens and guards, was engulfed in flames like an immense pyre.
Amidst this searing blaze, a voice cried out from the hottest part of the inferno.
“Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh────!!”
The scream was monstrous, impossible to believe it came from a human.
...
Perhaps “a scream not of this world” was an apt description. The source of this terrifying sound was not a person, but a mere creature—an unfortunate being bereft of the blessings of God. A wretched existence, one that had dared to steal the power of divinity in pursuit of that blessing, and yet, for hundreds of years, had remained a mere component in someone else’s design.
“Aah…”
This pitiable, yet detestable and pathetic creature, now bereft of strength, ceased its screams and began to crumble into ash. The charred remnants dispersed into the air, only to gather again, forming a new body around the burnt one. The ashes took on flesh, covering the bones and organs of the being who had been consumed.
In the paradoxical sight of life and death reversing, a flame flickered in the hollow eye sockets of the burned one. Even amidst flames that shone like the sun, the creature’s gaze was sharp as it looked at Joanna, and Joanna met that gaze.
Pop!
In an instant, the flames that had consumed the palace, centered around the burned one, were extinguished. Not only in the palace but across the entire capital, the fires died out, blanketing the city beneath the pitch-black sky that loomed like an open void. Even the underground was swallowed by this darkness.
In this all-encompassing shadow, Joanna and the holy knights were enveloped by an overwhelming, devouring void.
As the world sank into darkness, hail fell from the sky. Amidst the gloom, something slithered, muttering words of prayer in a language beyond comprehension.
Snap!
Oliver struck the ground with his quarterstaff.
Fwoosh!
Instantly, fire reignited on the charred body seated on the wooden throne, sparking flames throughout the palace and the capital once more. The intense heat incinerated the falling hail, while the flames roared once more in the underground.
As before, Joanna used the power of Sacred Blood to shield the holy knights from the fiery storm, protecting them rather than attempting to destroy the body of the burned one.
[Isn’t it both pitiable and amusing?]
At the heart of the flames, where yellow, orange, and red intermingled, the burned one spoke to Joanna telepathically.
[After enduring for centuries, striving for even a single day to be human, all of it was merely a means to complete a ritual. Pitiable and amusing, wouldn’t you say?]
“Aaaahhhh────!!”
The piercing scream echoed from within the flames, slicing through the menacing sounds of the burning space. Even as the holy knights covered their ears, the horrible scream drilled into their minds, revealing its essence directly to their brains. It was the cry of sinners from hell, and this flame was the hellfire meant to burn them.
Hellfire, now descending upon the human realm.
This could mean only one thing: the end.
“…How cruel.”
Within the hellfire, Joanna responded.
The burned one nodded in agreement, his fiery eyes glinting.
[Cruel, indeed. And that is fate—a fate neither escapable nor avoidable. That same fate awaits even him.]
He didn’t specify, but Joanna knew who he meant.
She had already heard.
“Oliver…”
A world burdened with sin beyond reckoning, a world everyone had abandoned. And the one they created to bring that world to its end was none other than Oliver. A being created to endure the world’s most painful, cruel, and challenging task, regardless of his own will, his character, or his efforts.
“Are you able to bear the truth?”
This was one of the cruel truths that the burned one had revealed to Joanna.
Having heard it, Joanna asked, “Are you certain it’s fine to tell me such things so openly?”
“You aren’t listening,” the burned one responded. “I said it’s his fate. Do you really think knowing it would change anything? Maybe… if a miracle happened.”
Those cold, heartless words filled Joanna with despair—a despair so vast and overwhelming it made all her past struggles feel trivial in comparison.
Could anything be more merciless? A fate that comes regardless of one’s will, character, or effort. Joanna initially wanted to deny it.
To deny fate itself. Even after hearing the truth, Joanna spoke of Oliver’s good deeds, declared her faith in him, and tried to reject that fate. And, truly, her belief was genuine. The kindness Oliver had shown was real. His actions alone were proof enough.
For the kidnapped children, and even for her, he had risked his life, drawing ever closer to the fate he so despised…
[You’re still not listening.]
The burned one’s telepathic voice struck Joanna’s mind once again.
[In the face of fate, willpower, character, and effort mean nothing. Only the outcome remains. And yes, we know of his efforts.]
Pop!
Once again, the flames surrounding the burned one died down. As his fire extinguished, so did the flames across the palace and the capital. Now, only the flame in his eye sockets remained, as darkness swallowed everything else.
In the silence, sinners emerged from the shadows once more, crawling and chanting their blasphemous prayers.
Seeing this, Joanna finally understood why the sinners were praying. Lost in agonizing despair, unable to be saved, they worshipped the very being that inflicted pain on them, clinging to a false hope of respite.
And as darkness overtook the capital once more, the eighth omen descended upon the world—a plague of locusts that devoured everything in sight, from buildings to people. Oliver struck the ground again with his quarterstaff.
Snap!
Fwoosh!
Flames sparked on the burned one’s body as he sat on the wooden throne, reigniting fires throughout the palace and capital. Under Oliver’s control, the locusts dove into the blaze, turning to ash.
The ashes floated, drifting through the sea of fire, and clung to the burned one, slowly forming new flesh. Bit by bit, his body was rebuilt—dry, cracked like wood, yet vibrant with life, a body as powerful as a flame itself.
[This is why I spoke to you about it. I had some hope, albeit faint, that you might try to spare him from his cruel fate.]
For the first time, the burned one’s telepathic voice hinted at disappointment. Despite his lack of emotions, there was a trace of something resembling regret.
Yet Joanna’s reaction to his disappointment was one of powerful rejection and sorrow—not because she feared his disappointment, but because of her helplessness at Oliver’s impending fate.
Indeed, as the demon said, fate could not be altered by will, character, or effort.
[At the very least, I thought you’d show some minimal effort. You claim to protect him without even knowing who he truly is.]
“…”
[With such resolve, I assumed he’d bestow a miracle upon you, considering he values determination so highly.]
“…”
[We… At the very least, I wished he would escape his ruthless fate. Even from our standpoint, it’s too cruel, too unfair.]
“Does that mean… Oliver is truly bound to this fate?”
[Who knows? Even I can’t be sure of his plans. But it’s clear that by choosing to protect the holy knights rather than destroy me, you’ve proven that your presence offers little help. Now, I see why he chose to abandon you. You’re simply disappointing.]
Joanna remained silent, unable to refute his words. Indeed, she had shielded the holy knights instead of shattering the vessel that contained the burned one, believing it to be the right choice.
But had she misjudged? Had she truly put in any effort at all?
As Joanna’s thoughts began to spiral into regret, the burned one’s flames were extinguished once more.
With his fire gone, the blaze across the palace and the capital also faded, leaving only the light in the burned one’s eye sockets as the world was swallowed once more by darkness.
But this time, the darkness was thicker than ever, almost as though they were sinking into an underwater abyss, where sound was muted, and even breathing felt restricted. Her chest tightened as pressure closed in from all sides.
In the shadows, the sinners from hell scraped at the floor, the walls, and the barrier Joanna had created, muttering their prayers—a clear sign of the ninth omen’s descent.
The burned one spoke telepathically in that eerie, all-consuming silence.
[Regret is regret, but I have my own task to carry out.]
As soon as his voice echoed in her mind, a fissure of light in yellow, orange, and red formed beneath his eyes, resembling cracks in stone. The burned one’s mouth opened, as though about to unleash a great breath.
He inhaled, preparing to unleash flames as he had done on the New Continent.
At that moment, a vision flashed in Joanna’s mind—she saw Pinkman burning alive, and foresaw what was to come.
The burned one was about to unleash a tidal wave of flames. It would be of such unimaginable heat and force that her wings would burn, her shield would melt, and every firstborn on the land would perish.
The tenth omen, the death of the firstborn, was about to descend.
...
Joanna’s entire body tensed with dread, knowing she had to do something, yet feeling utterly powerless.
What could she possibly do against a tide of fire? All she could do was stare at the impending wave, awaiting inevitable destruction.
“Ah, there you are.”
In that moment, a voice pierced through the darkness of the palace underground—calm, yet discordantly out of place given the impending doom.
Swoosh!
The darkness condensed into a massive mouth, which then swallowed Joanna and the holy knights, transporting them to the surface.
Though unable to see anything clearly, Joanna and the holy knights instinctively knew they had returned to the surface.
“Oliver?!”
Joanna cried his name instinctively, for there was only one person capable of something like this in a place dominated by demons.
But there was no response—not for two or three seconds.
A brief moment, yet in that time, Joanna felt a terror deeper than the surrounding darkness.
Just as that terror was reaching its peak…
Flash!
A small sun flared on the ground, illuminating everything around it.
...
It was Oliver, who had conjured a small sun with his charred right arm, bringing light back to the world engulfed in darkness.
“It’s been a while, Joanna.”