Betrayed by Heaven, I Became The Demon Lord
Chapter 7: The Bells Of Heaven
The echoes of the celestial bells still lingered within the atmosphere faint yet thunderous, a sound that transcended the limits of distance and time itself. Each toll resonated through the very fabric of creation, rippling across the mortal sphere, breaking through the veiled boundaries of the Abyss, and finally reaching the hollow throne room where I sat in watchful silence, a sentinel of dark power.
This sound was not merely a chime; it was both a warning and a declaration. Heaven had heard our defiance, and it was preparing to respond with wrath and fervor.
The crimson light of the Throne pulsed and surged in rhythm with the bells' ethereal resonance. This pulsing did not signify submission; rather, it was a bold defiance a counterpoint to the celestial overture, a heartbeat of rebellion that rose to meet Heaven's call with its own grim and thunderous melody. Shadows rippled outward from the base of the Throne, sprawling into vast sigils etched with ancient power that danced and flickered across the obsidian floor, forming a foundation for a force both immense and unseen, stirring in eager response to my will.
At the base of the steps, Lyris stood steadfast, her eyes drawn upward into the endless abyss above, where faint motes of golden light simmered like the watchful eyes of gods, alert and keen. "They're calling," she murmured softly, her voice quaking with both awe and trepidation as she gazed into the profound void. "The Archons awaken. The bells toll only when Heaven declares a Holy Crusade, don't they?"
Her words hung heavily in the air, imbued with the gravitas of prophecy an ominous foretelling that sent shivers down the spines of those assembled.
With a measured breath, I leaned forward, resting my hands purposefully on the armrests of the Throne. "Then let them awaken," I intoned, my voice calm and unhurried the stillness before the inevitable storm. "If Heaven wishes to march upon the Abyss, let it prepare to remember what it abandoned first: the shadows that once thrived in its light."
At that very moment, an electrifying surge of energy coursed through the room, a low, resonant hum that felt akin to the deep, ancient breath of something primordial rousing from a long and restless slumber. Above us, the crimson banners that adorned the chamber began to sway gently, despite the absence of any wind, their woven sigils glowing with a dark luminescence that seemed to breathe with life of its own. The Warden Lords, those loyal enforcers of my will, reacted instinctively, bowing their heads reverently, their hands pressed firmly against the cold ground as if in respect to a force greater than themselves.
And then came the voice a sound that was low and melodic, yet laden with immeasurable weight, enveloping us in its reverberation.
"My Lord of Shadows... the Heavens prepare their descent."
From the farthest corner of the grand hall, a mist began to coalesce, materializing into a towering figure, radiant yet clad in darkness. It was Azeliah, one of the Seven Wardens Mistress of the Veil, Keeper of Secrets, and the Abyss' most gifted seer. Her presence was heavy with an air of ageless wisdom and an undercurrent of danger, reminiscent of a dagger cloaked in soft silk.
With a grace that belied her formidable power, she bowed low, her silver hair cascading like a silken waterfall upon the cold floor beneath her. "The barrier between realms falters, my lord," she declared, her voice a melodic whisper. "The Light has begun to burn through the cracks. Within three nights, the Seraphim will breach the mortal skies."
Lyris looked up sharply, disbelief etched across her face. "Three nights? Is it truly that soon?"
Azeliah's emerald eyes flickered fleetingly toward me, filled with the knowledge of ages. "Sooner, if they are able to mobilize the Celestial Engines," she cautioned, her voice softened by the weight of dire foresight. "They aim to reclaim you, my Lord or to obliterate you completely."
Despite the gravity of her words, I was not gripped by fear; rather, I found clarity and focus in the storm of anticipation brewing overhead.
"Then," I proclaimed, rising resolutely from the Throne, "we shall not linger in anticipation of their mercy."
As I stood, the chamber itself seemed to exhale, the shadows deepening around me, the crimson light expanding outward in rolling waves of energy that washed over the blackened marble floor. I extended my hand, and from the very edge of the Throne, a weapon emerged an exquisite blade forged from the essence of condensed shadow and molten light, its sharp edge whispering with the cacophony of voices from the Abyss itself.
"The Light will descend upon the mortal world first," I announced, my voice echoing through the hall as I began to pace down the steps, each footfall resonating with an undeniable purpose. "They will strike where faith still lingers strongest the cities and towns that continue to supplicate before gods who have long since turned a deaf ear. Those fervent prayers will morph into their weapons, their altars transformed into battlegrounds."
Lyris fell in beside me, her steps steady and unwavering, a warrior poised for the impending conflict. "Then we shall seize the battlefield from them," she declared, determination sparking in her eyes.
I nodded once, a signal of shared conviction. "We reclaim faith itself."
As those powerful words took root in the chamber, a hush unfurled over the gathered assembly an atmosphere of solemn resolve. A new decree had been birthed, not from a place of vengeance but rather from an unyielding conviction that resonated through our very souls. The Abyss would no longer cower in the depths of darkness. No, it would rise with unrelenting force, ready to meet the challenge of heaven-bound wrath.
Azeliah extended her hand, and the mist before her shimmered, revealing a vision the mortal realm bathed in twilight. Above it, cracks of golden light tore through the heavens, and through them descended titanic figures of fire and song: Seraphim, radiant and merciless, their wings spanning horizons, their eyes burning with judgment.
I watched in silence, my jaw tightening.
Heaven was not sending an army; it was sending a purge.
"They bring the Choir of Radiance," Azeliah whispered. "Their song will turn the skies to flame. No mortal can withstand it."
"Then we shall not send mortals."
I turned toward Varnax, who knelt at my left. His molten armor pulsed faintly, veins of silver and obsidian running with restless heat. "Rally the Abyssal Legions. The first to march shall be the Vanguard of Dusk. I want the skies blackened before the Light descends."
Varnax bowed deeply. "It shall be done, my Lord."
"And Lyris," I added, glancing toward her, "prepare the Gate. The mortal world will not withstand a direct crossing, but the places where faith has faltered they will serve as our passage. Find the forgotten temples. We will make them bleed shadows once more."
Her crimson eyes gleamed with fierce devotion. "As you command."
As they departed to fulfill their tasks, I turned my gaze once more toward the heavens, where faint golden threads still flickered through the cracks in the void. Each one pulsed in rhythm with the tolling bells, each a warning that the gods had not forgotten.
But neither had I.
For every toll of those bells, I remembered another sound the scream of a friend left behind, the shattering of faith, the silence that followed divine betrayal.
And as I stood there beneath the weight of a heaven that had turned its gaze upon me once more, I whispered to the empty air,
"Ring your bells, Seraphiel. Let the heavens sing. When the song ends… the silence will be mine."
The Throne pulsed in answer, its crimson glow brightening to an infernal dawn.
Far above, in the sanctified heights of Heaven, the light began to twist no longer pure, no longer serene.
For the first time since the dawn of creation, Heaven trembled.
And in that trembling… the war truly began.
To be continued…