The Judgment Circle — Sky Court of Etheris
The High Judge towered above him, wrapped in living threads of light, each woven from law and soul-contracts. Around him, the twelve Justiciars hovered in rings — their faces masked, their voices silent. The sky itself dimmed, clouds forming a colossal halo over the Circle.
Luv stood shackled in celestial steel — cursed chains that even gods feared.
His eyes met theirs, unflinching.
"You freed the forsaken. Burned the Soul Fields. Killed judges, cracked temples, shattered towers," the central Justiciar spoke. "And for what? Mortal insects? Traitors?"
"For life," Luv said quietly. "For a child who only knew screams. For a mother who never got to say goodbye. For truth."
"Blasphemy," hissed another. "You used forbidden arts. Defiled the sacred order."
"You are the defilement," Luv snapped. "You drain souls to light your streets and pretend it's mercy."
They fell silent.
He knew he had struck them.
Aira stood behind the Justiciars, arms crossed, face unreadable. But her eyes kept flicking to Luv.
Was it guilt? Fear? Regret?
He didn't know.
"You are sentenced to Divine Severance," the central Judge announced. "Your soul will be torn from all realms. Forgotten. Scattered across infinity."
The crowd — nobles, soldiers, and silent citizens — cheered.
The prisoners Luv had freed were nowhere in sight.
He smiled, almost amused.
"I suppose that means I'll finally be free."
Suddenly, a tremor shook the court.
The sky flashed — not gold, but black.
Thunder cracked. A wind like ash howled through the arena.
And then — a scream.
One of the outer Justiciars clutched his throat.
Blood — no, soul ichor — poured from his mouth as his body split open from within.
From his core burst a blade.
A jagged black sword, glowing with wrathful light.
Luv tilted his head.
"I told you," he whispered. "You can chain my flesh. But you will never bind my purpose."
The curse he bore — the agony of 1,000 trillion tortured souls — answered.
It howled.
It twisted.
It consumed the realm's purity.
And one by one, the sky gods started to bleed.
The sacred halls cracked.
Celestial steel melted off Luv's wrists like wax under a dragon's breath.
His eyes glowed not with power, but conviction.
Every scream he'd ever heard, every cry from the farms, every child that withered under divine tyranny — they spoke now through him.
A guard lunged. Luv caught his blade mid-air, flipped it, and drove it through the man's heart in one fluid motion.
Another Judge raised a divine command — but Luv's curse twisted her syllables mid-air, and her mouth tore open from within, screaming her own law back at her.
The crowd fled.
Aira… didn't.
She stood there, watching as gods began to fall.
Aira had known from the start.
From the moment she met Luv, she saw through his illusion. She just didn't know why he wore it.
And when he broke into the prisons, she followed. She saw the horrors. She saw what her father allowed.
She wanted to stop him.
But she didn't.
And now… as fire consumed her home, she wondered if she'd betrayed her people… or just finally chosen a side.
Luv stood over the last remaining Judge.
Blood dripped from his hands.
His robe was torn. His body scarred. His divine soul burned like a collapsing star.
"You… could've run," the Judge gasped. "You could've escaped and lived in peace."
"I did run," Luv said. "For years. But peace is a lie when it costs a thousand lives per day."
He raised the blade — and paused.
"You were once a hero, weren't you?"
The Judge didn't answer.
Luv let him live.
Not out of mercy.
But because sometimes, letting a man live with the ruin of his lies… is the crueler sentence.
A Devil's Legend
When dawn came, Etheris was broken.
Towers had fallen. Judges were dead. Prisons empty.
And in every corner of the city — his name echoed.
Not "Kael."
Not "boy."
Not even "traitor."
But "Luv."
Some called him the Devil Who Wept for Mortals.
Others, the Godslayer of Light.
Children whispered stories of the man who walked into the sky city with no weapon, and walked out with justice.
And the oppressed?
They began to hope.