The sky went still.
Not silent—**still**.
Even the Apostles paused, wings half-spread, as the voice carried through the torn heavens with calm, almost amused clarity.
"I didn't think," the voice said lightly, "it would be *so easy* to rip out the Blood King's heart."
Kaelen's gaze snapped toward the source.
Golden.
Cold.
Unblinking.
The voice continued, conversational, as though discussing a clever trick rather than an act that should have been impossible.
"It should have been impossible to do alone, really. Even for us."
A faint chuckle followed.
"But we must give thanks where it's due."
The figure stepped fully into view.
Ivan.
He hovered in the air opposite Kaelen, posture relaxed, one hand raised casually—
—and in that hand, **Kaelen's heart**.
It pulsed weakly, dense and crimson, ancient power leaking from it like mist. Blood coated Ivan's fingers, yet none of it stained him. His eyes glowed with a **radiant gold**, a light that was not his own.
"King Galewyn of the Empire," Ivan continued smoothly.
"The Goddess."
"The Apostles."
His smile widened.
"And of course… the Queen."
Kaelen's pupils contracted.
"The Queen of the Empire gave her life for this," Ivan said almost reverently. "A perfect anchor. A perfect sacrifice. Enough to let the Goddess reach *inside you*—just for a moment."
Ivan tilted his head, studying the heart in his hand like a prized relic.
"One moment was all we needed."
Kaelen stared at him.
No rage.
No roar.
Just a **razor-thin calm** that made the air around him vibrate.
"So," Kaelen said slowly, his voice steady despite the void in his chest,
"you're a puppet too."
Ivan laughed softly.
"Oh, no," he said. "Not a puppet."
His golden eyes burned brighter.
"A *chosen hand*."
The Apostles shifted, forming subtly behind Ivan, their presence closing in like a tightening net.
Far below the confrontation—
Draven fell.
Unconscious.
Unaware.
*Those are the words of a dog,* Kraken said. *One that thinks it isn't a pet.*
Ivan clicked his tongue softly, almost disappointed.
"And especially," he continued calmly, golden eyes flicking briefly toward the distant battlefield below, "I would like to thank my *sister-in-law*."
His smile thinned.
"But I suppose I won't be able to do that now."
His gaze sharpened.
"She's no longer with us."
The words carried weight.
Not grief.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
"And Draven—"
The sentence never finished.
A **flash of light** tore through the air.
One of the Apostles—its form still unstable from being torn apart earlier—**lunged**, condensed radiance compressing into a spear of judgment. The impact shook the sky, space rippling outward like water struck by stone.
But Ivan didn't move.
A **mana barrier** bloomed instantly before him—golden, layered, flawless.
The Apostle's strike slammed into it and stopped dead.
The backlash detonated outward, shredding clouds and sending shockwaves rolling through the heavens.
Ivan's smile vanished.
He turned his head slowly toward the Apostle, eyes no longer amused—only **cold**.
"…Don't interrupt," he said quietly, his voice dropping several degrees.
"This is a family reunion."
The Apostle recoiled slightly—then straightened, wings spreading wide as holy script ignited across its form.
"**Demon**," it declared, its voice echoing with layered authority.
"For the sin of daring to step upon holy ground—
For the murder of the Queen—
You are hereby **sentenced to death**."
Ivan blinked.
Then he laughed.
Not loud.
Not manic.
Just… entertained.
"Is that so?" he said, tilting his head, golden eyes glinting. "If you truly wish to kill me…"
He raised the hand holding Kaelen's heart slightly, letting its weak pulse show.
"…this won't do."
His gaze lifted, piercing through the Apostle—through the sky itself.
"Why don't you," Ivan continued pleasantly,
"try coming in **person**?"
The Apostles stiffened.
Even Kaelen—standing with a hollow where his heart should be—felt it.
That confidence wasn't bluff.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was **certainty**.
Far below, Draven continued to fall.
And above—
The war between gods, kings, and monsters took one more irreversible step forward.
A **flash** tore through the sky.
Not light.
Not mana.
**Absence.**
For a fraction of a second, everything between Ivan and the Apostles simply… **ceased to exist**.
The golden barrier didn't shatter.
It was **split**—cleanly, perfectly—like reality itself had been cut by a blade too sharp for resistance.
The Apostle behind Ivan didn't even have time to react.
Its body separated down the center—wings, halo, and divine script sliding apart in silence before dissolving into drifting motes of broken light.
Ivan's smile froze.
Then—
**Kaelen was there.**
No warning.
No surge.
No buildup.
Just **presence**.
The Vampire King stood inches from Ivan, crimson mana rolling off him in suffocating waves, the sky behind him warped and bleeding red-black. His missing heart did not slow him.
Did not weaken him.
If anything—
He felt **worse**.
Kaelen's eyes locked onto Ivan's, pupils narrow, burning like twin dying stars.
"…Good," Kaelen said quietly.
There was no rage in his voice.
Only **finality**.
"I was going to come find you after I finished with the Empire."
The air around them **compressed**, space groaning beneath the pressure of his will.
"But you saved me the trouble."
Ivan's fingers tightened reflexively around the heart in his hand.
Too late.
Kaelen moved.
Not striking—yet.
Just stepping closer.
The force of that single step sent shockwaves ripping outward, tearing clouds apart and hurling the remaining Apostles back as if struck by an invisible wall.
"You took my wife," Kaelen continued, his voice dropping, each word heavy enough to crush mountains.
"You touched my son."
Crimson veins of mana crawled across his skin, fangs extending as his aura thickened into something **ancient**—something that predated gods and their thrones.
His gaze flicked briefly to the heart in Ivan's hand.
Then back to Ivan's face.
"That ends now."
The sky **howled**.f