Celestial Hybrid

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

3 years later

Three years had passed since Remiel and his friends began their rigorous training. Under the stern guidance of Zoran, the elder god of destruction, Remiel honed his skills with relentless discipline, also with the help of his personalities.

Scylla trained in the art of weaponry under Althea, the formidable goddess of war and the arts of magic from Lunae, the elder goddess of sorcery, while David endured grueling lessons from his father, Altero, the elder god of chaos.

Day after day, they pushed themselves to the brink, their strength and resolve growing with every trial. They made great progress much to the surprise of their mentors. They were preparing for the battles to come — but somewhere beyond their sight, others were preparing as well.

Phlegethon

In a realm the size of a Myther, located in the far depths of Omnidia, darkness stood as the other half of the day, inseparable and ever-present. Its existence — only known to the Celestelites and the Supreme Emperor. The land was alive with creatures of every imaginable size and shape, each carved by the harshness of their fiery world.

Above, the sky burned a deep, unrelenting blood-red, its edges spilling over with molten lava that dripped like tears from the heavens. The realm itself was a living, breathing furnace — a searing hot expanse of fire and molten stone, where the very air shimmered with heat and chaos reigned supreme.

In the depths of Phlegethon within a cavern shrouded in darkness, a lone figure sat bound to a throne-like chair, a crown of spikes on his head and iron nails driven mercilessly through his body. Around him, spiked chains glowed with an ominous red light. The figure strained against his bindings, every movement a struggle to break free from his torment.

Blood red eyes blazing beneath a curtain of flowing silver hair as he fought against his restraints, but each desperate pull only tightened the chains. Blood streamed from his wounds, cascading down the throne in crimson rivulets, pooling like a river of sorrow at his feet.

At last — after an endless struggle — thin cracks began to spread along the glowing chains. He smiled, but the fractures stopped halfway. Still, his expression did not falter. After countless years in confinement, his voice finally broke the silence.

“Alas… the seal is weakening.”

His voice rolled through the cavern and echoed across the entire realm, a chilling proclamation that sent tremors through the molten land. Every creature stirred, for they knew their master’s long-awaited freedom was near.

~~~~~~

At the heart of the northern region of the realm stood a towering, gray-painted castle, its presence as foreboding as the land around it. Inside its grand hall, six figures sat in silence around a massive glowing table, their expressions stern and unyielding.

Once warrior angels, now fallen as elder demons, they had turned against their Creator in the great celestial war and were cast into Phlegethon as punishment. The air was thick with reticence, a palpable tension as they awaited the arrival of another.

Then came the sound of measured footsteps echoing through the hall. A tall, commanding figure approached, his purple robe flowing behind him. The air shook in his presence and at once the emperors rose from their seats, bowing low before him.

Their countenance shifted from stern to fear as they trembled in his presence while he walked past them — discreetly reveling in their trepidation. He sat himself at the head of the table, but the others did not dare to sit until his command was given.

“We bow before thy presence, O great Lord Celios,” they chorused in unison, their voices trembling with reverence and with a wave of his hands, they all sat.

“I should not have to sully my presence among you, yet here I stand.” His voice rolled through the hall like distant thunder, smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge of power. “Kneel and take heed of this truth — our long-awaited day approaches. The world itself will tremble, and He alone shall rise above gods and angels alike.” His piercing purple eyes glowed brightly as he spoke, causing the castle foundations to shake briefly.

“Your words hold the truth and speak no falsehoods, Great Lord,” they chorused in perfect unison, their voices trembling as they knelt before him.

“You may rise,” Celios commanded, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. They obeyed at once, taking their seats once again as his piercing gaze swept over them.

“The others busy themselves with preparations, leaving me to oversee this gathering,” He continued, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of dominance. “For millennia, we have clawed at every path, every secret, seeking a way to unbind our Emperor from the chains forged by that man — only to taste futility at every turn.” A low growl escaped his lips as he thought of the one responsible for his master's imprisonment.

“What does thee have to say, Azriel?” Celios’s piercing gaze fell upon one cloaked in gray, his hair as pale as ash. “You are permitted to speak.”

Azriel’s breath hitched as he rose to his feet, trembling beneath that tyrannical stare. Beads of sweat traced his face, and his voice faltered.

“W-we attempted brute force, my Lord… tried to shatter the barrier guarding the cave, but—”

“Silence!”

Celios’s voice cracked like thunder, shaking the very foundations of the castle. The ground quaked violently, flames around the hall flaring with his fury. Azriel staggered, clutching his chest as the overwhelming weight of Celios’s presence forced him to his knees. Even the others struggled to remain seated, their eyes cast downward, afraid to breathe too loudly.

“You pitiful insects dared to strike at a barrier wrought by Him!?!… with those worthless twigs you call hands?!” Celios roared, his voice dripping with venom and contempt. The air thickened with his wrath, pressing down on all present.

“Even we, the Kings, could not breach it — a failure born not of our weakness, but of our… disunity.” His tone twisted with arrogance, carefully sidestepping his own folly, as though the blame lay solely on the others.

“T-there… there may be a way to break the barrier… and free our Emperor, Lord Celios,” a trembling voice dared to speak.

Celios’s piercing gaze shifted, sharp as a blade, locking onto the source. Emerald hair and glowing green eyes reflected the violet fire of the throne room. The one who spoke froze under the weight of that stare.

“Garien swallowed hard, lowering his head. “I… will not be the one to speak, my Lord,” he said carefully, his voice trembling. Slowly, he lifted a hand and pointed toward the great entrance.

“She will.”

All eyes turned as the massive doors groaned open, the atmosphere thickening with an unspoken tension.

Soft, deliberate footsteps echoed through the grand hall, drawing every gaze toward the entrance. A woman glided into view, her silver robe flowing like liquid moonlight, each step exuding effortless grace. Silken hair, the same luminous silver, framed her sharp features and fell neatly to her shoulders. Her eyes gleamed like polished metal, cold yet captivating, and upon her lips curved a smile both enchanting and dangerous — a perfect mask for the serpent’s cunning that lay beneath.

Celios’s breath hitched, his usually unshakable composure faltering as his piercing gaze locked onto her. Shock and intrigue flickered across his regal features, the hall itself seeming to hold its breath.

“…Slythera,” he murmured, his voice low but laced with power, each syllable carrying both disbelief and fascination. “It has been… far too long. I was under the impression you perished in the war.”

A soft, melodic giggle escaped Slythera’s lips as she raised a delicate hand. In an instant, shadows and silver light wove together, forming a throne-like chair that shimmered with an otherworldly glow. With unhurried grace, she lowered herself onto it, crossing her legs with queenly poise.

“I was… fortunate,” she purred, her voice smooth and hypnotic, carrying a dangerous undertone. “One of the few who slipped through the Almighty’s grasp.” Her silver eyes glimmered as her smile deepened. “I’ve been amongst the mortals all this time… watching… waiting.”

“I have no interest in your petty affairs in the mortal realm,” Celios said with a dismissive shrug, his piercing gaze never leaving hers. “Garien claims you bring something… intriguing. Speak.”

“Indeed I do,” Slythera purred, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. She turned her head ever so slightly, casting Garien a lingering, seductive glance that made him shift uneasily under her gaze. “In order to ensure our master’s freedom…” Slythera’s voice trailed off, her lips curling into a sly smile as she let her words linger, forcing anticipation to settle over the hall like a heavy mist. “…We must find them.”

Celios leaned forward slightly, his piercing eyes narrowing, a rare glint of excitement breaking through his prideful composure. “Y-you mean…” he breathed, his voice low but filled with anticipation.

“Yes,” she purred, her tone smooth as silk. “You’ve guessed correctly.” Her gaze locked onto his, savoring the flicker of eagerness in his expression. “We must seek the four ancient relics…” She paused again, her smile widening as she drank in his uncharacteristic anxiety. “…And I know exactly where the first one lies.”