The cathedral’s stained glass shattered, not from a stray projectile, but from the sheer harmonic dissonance of the Archon’s arrival. The creature stood ten feet tall, its form a shifting construct of blinding light and geometric cruelty. It did not have eyes, yet Lucien felt a gaze that weighed his sins against the foundations of the world.
"Lucien Dreadmoor," the Archon boomed, its voice vibrating through the marrow of everyone present. "You stand upon hallowed ground, fueled by the malice of the Void. By the authority of the Celestial Chorus, your soul is forfeit."
The Archon swung its blade of solidified sunlight. The strike moved with a speed that defied physics, turning the air into glass. Lucien didn’t retreat. He caught the blow on the edge of his blade, his boots carving deep fu
