The morning sun desperately tried to rescue Addis Ababa, but the sky had become a graveyard where light simply went to die.
Dawn did not break here anymore. The concept of morning light had become a forgotten myth, erased from the pages of history. All that remained was a bruised, dark purple sky and a thick layer of charcoal ash blanketing the city like a cheap, suffocating shroud.
Above the Entoto Mountains, choking soot, volcanic ash, and chemical smog formed an impenetrable ceiling of death. These toxic clouds strangled the golden rays of the sun miles before they could ever touch the earth, plunging the world below into an endless, eerie twilight.
The city, once the beating heart of the nation, now looked as though it had been subjected to a divine, apocalyptic judgment.
Skyscrapers stood like hollowed-out, blackened skeletons. The massive glass facade of the Commercial Bank of Ethiopia was gone; in its place, the twisted remains of steel and concrete shrieked in the toxic wind like a cursed flute.
Instead of windows, the buildings stared down at the desolate wasteland below with empty, skull-like eye sockets. The air wasn't just something you smelled; you could taste it. It scorched the tip of the tongue with the flavor of sulfur, the putrid stench of unburied corpses, and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood.
Down below, the streets were dead silent. The roar of vehicles, the chatter of people, the rhythm of life… all swallowed by absolute silence. The only thing left in its place was the fire that refused to die, gnawing at the twisted frames of cars like a relentless wildfire. The asphalt was wet, but not with rain; it was slick with dried blood that stuck to the soles of anyone who dared to walk.
Did humanity still survive here? Or was this merely a monument to the history of human extinction?
Deep beneath the ruins, in a massive underground basement converted into a makeshift laboratory, the heat was so intense it felt like it could peel the skin right off your bones. It wasn't a dry heat. It was a heavy, humid air that reeked of the blood of gods.
In the center of the vast, cathedral-like hall, the leaders of the ten angelic tribes hung suspended, much like butchered meat waiting to be prepared. But they weren't bound by iron or ropes. They were chained by living, writhing chains of liquid magma. The molten rock coiled tightly around their wrists and ankles, continuously burning their immortal flesh without ever letting them die.
Power traveled along these chains. A liquid light, golden in color. It flowed like a river of molten iron, sucking out their divine essence, drop by agonizing drop. The destination of this power sat upon a throne carved from pure black obsidian.
Daruel.
The Lord of Darkness lounged on his throne with the relaxed demeanor of a beast that had just conquered a war. He wasn't merely sitting on the throne; he was a black hole that swallowed every ounce of light in the room. As the stolen energy surged into his veins, his skin glowed. Veins that looked like veins of molten gold pulsed dangerously beneath his pale arms, teeming with a menacing vitality.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A cruel, deeply satisfied smile crept across his lips. It was the look of a man drinking the finest wine after a long, parching thirst.
*Boom! Boom!*
The heavy iron doors didn't just open; they shuddered violently. Three figures scrambled into the hall. They were clad in black armor designed to absorb light and resist intense heat. They didn't march in with military discipline. They stumbled in. They hurried with the frantic terror of men who knew that death was not merely a possibility, but an absolute certainty.
Reaching the foot of the throne, the dark angels threw themselves to the floor. A sharp crack echoed as their knees struck the stone. Their foreheads kissed the ash-covered ground.
"My Lord!" the leader of the group spoke, his voice trembling so violently that it rattled his mask. Sweat poured from his scalp and dripped onto the floor. "The time machine... we reached the location you provided. But... it was reduced to dust. Just rubble."
He swallowed hard; the sound was as loud as thunder in the heavy silence. "It is completely destroyed. Beyond repair."
Daruel slowly turned his head. Everyone flinched in terror. The temperature in the room plummeted instantly. In stark contrast to the boiling heat of the magma chains, frost began to creep up the obsidian throne. The golden light illuminating the room twisted, turning into a sickly, blood-red hue.
A low, guttural growl vibrated from deep within Daruel's chest. It was not a human sound. It was the sound of an earthquake. A sound that made the teeth of the messengers rattle in their skulls. Realizing that his master's anger meant his own impending death, the second messenger spoke rapidly. The words tumbled from his mouth in sheer panic.
"But! My Lord... please! We found something! We brought Doctor Toram's personal notebook." With trembling hands, he produced a small, black leather-bound notebook. Its edges were scorched by fire, but it remained intact.
Daruel opened his eyes. His pupils slitted like a cat's, burning with the blue fire of hell. He said nothing. He simply reached out his hand.
*Whoosh!*
The book was violently snatched from the wretched messenger's hand, flying through the air before slapping into Daruel's palm. He offered no word of thanks. Contradicting the apocalyptic fire in his eyes, his long fingers gently traced the spine of the book.
"This is not enough." Daruel's voice was as heavy as an avalanche of stone. "Tear that laboratory apart," he whispered. "Every single wall. Every single floor. Every single brick."
He leaned forward; the magma chains behind him flared, casting demonic shadows across the walls. "There are hidden rooms; I can smell them. Find them! And bring me every living quantum physicist on this cursed planet. Drag them out of whatever holes they're hiding in. And if they are dead, bring me their heads, and I will suck out whatever memories remain."
"As you command, our Lord!" all three shouted in unison, their foreheads scraping the floor.
As the messengers scrambled backward, crawling away in fear, a sound cut through the unbearable tension. It was a laugh. Weak. Brittle. Soaked in blood. But undeniably mocking. Among the suspended prisoners, a man with a broken wing lifted his head.
It was Ratuel, the Lord of the Fire Tribe.
His body was completely drained and limp. His skin had turned a sickly gray, and his hair, which had once been made of living fire, now looked like dead ash. But his eyes... his eyes still held that unmistakable, suicidal arrogance.
"She is coming for you," Ratuel gasped out. As a thick clot of blood slid from his lips and sizzled against the burning chains, he continued. "Do you think a book will save you? She... is coming. Armed with the armor and the sword..."
Daruel slowly rose from his throne. His movements were not natural. They were far too smooth, too fluid. The chains connecting him to the prisoners rattled like the bones of the dead. Without making a single sound, he walked toward Ratuel. The stolen light swirled around him, forming a vortex of pure destruction.
"I am not waiting for Doctor Toram," Daruel whispered. He stopped less than an inch from Ratuel's face. The heat radiating from Daruel was enough to scorch human flesh. "I will go to her myself. I will tear through the blood-net sealed by Zagura, and I will leap through the time machine."
Daruel's hand shot out and clamped down on Ratuel's skull. His fingers dug straight into the bone.
"Aaargh!" Ratuel's scream was not just a sound; it was a physical force that violently shook the entire room.
Daruel accelerated the extraction process. The Fire-essence was brutally ripped from Ratuel's body. Flowing like electrified lava, tearing through muscle and soul, it surged into Daruel's arm. The prisoner convulsed wildly, twisting until his spine snapped, his agonizing screams echoing until his vocal cords completely tore apart... and then, absolute silence reigned.
Ratuel went entirely limp. The surrounding tribal gods, stripped of their strength and utterly weakened, couldn't even manage to draw a breath.
Meanwhile, amidst the skeletal remains of the skyscrapers in the streets of Addis Ababa, something moved. It had a humanoid shape, but its proportions were grotesquely wrong. Its arms were far too long, its knees bent backward, and its skin was charred like burnt wood. Massive, leathery bat wings wrapped around its body like a funeral shroud.
The creature's ears twitched. It stretched, opening eyes that burned with the ravenous hunger of a predator. Unleashing a screech that shattered the remaining glass in the window frames, the monster plummeted downward. Diving through the gray sky like a living shadow, it hurled itself toward the asphalt.
*Boom!*
It landed squarely in the middle of the road; the asphalt cracked and spiderwebbed under the impact. Dust billowed into the air. The beast sniffed the air, turning its grotesque head left, then right. Its nostrils flared, hunting for the scent of fear, sweat, and fresh flesh. Finding nothing but the stench of ash, it let out a bone-chilling shriek of frustration and launched itself back into the sky, vanishing over the rooftops like an omen of doom.
Down on the street, silence returned. But it wasn't empty. Behind the burnt, skeletal remains of a bus, a shadow shifted.
A young man in his twenties was hiding inside the bus. He barely looked human; he looked like a cat pulled out from under a stove—covered in soot, trembling uncontrollably, his clothes reduced to rags hanging off his emaciated frame. He waited. He counted the seconds.
One. Two. Three.
He listened until the flapping of the beast's wings faded into the wind. Only then did he slowly peek out over the edge of the metal tire rim. Pure terror was etched into every line of his face. His hands shook uncontrollably, rattling against the metal.
*Clang!*
The boy froze in horror. His eyes bulged. His breath hitched in his throat. Silence. He slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding. He looked down. Lying next to him was a young woman. Her face was as pale and wrinkled as old paper, her lips cracked and bleeding. Her right leg was wrapped in thick cloth, but the cloth was no longer white. It was soaked through with blackened blood and yellow pus. The faint but unmistakable stench of rotting flesh wafted from the wound.
"The beast is gone," the young man whispered. His voice was cracked and dry. "Sara? Can you hear me? Can you stand?"
The girl's eyes fluttered. They were unfocused, glazed over with a severe fever. "I... I don't know."
"We have to try," he urged, his eyes darting to her leg. "The wound... the black lines are spreading. We need antibiotics. We have to find a pharmacy."
The young man scanned the empty, desolate street through the shattered window of the bus. Through the thick smog, about two blocks away, a faded green cross hung precariously on the side of a collapsed building.
"I see one," he lied. Though his lips quivered, he forced a reassuring smile. "It's not far. Just a little bit further. I promise."
He nodded rapidly to himself. He slid his arm under her shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he hoisted her up. As her weight settled onto her injured leg, a hellish pain ripped through her, and she muffled a scream. Together, using the burnt-out bus as a shield, they began to move.
Step. Drag. Step. Drag.
They made it ten meters. Then twenty. Suddenly…
*Screeech… crack… snap!!*
It wasn't a distant sound. It was coming from right above them. The sickening screech of metal tearing against metal ripped through the air. Instinctively, the young man let go of her. Clamping his hands over his ears as his eardrums threatened to burst, he screamed in agony. Sara collapsed heavily onto the asphalt.
Before either of them could gather their senses, the sky split open. A concentrated whip of pure, white energy shot down from the heavens. Like a falling star, it struck the center of the road.
*Boom!*
The shockwave from the explosion knocked the breath right out of their lungs. Dust, shattered asphalt, and debris scattered like a deadly, suffocating cloud. The young man stumbled to his feet. "Sara!" he tried to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, he coughed. A thick, hot spray of blood splattered across the gray ground. He looked down at his chest.
He felt no pain; only a strange, creeping coldness. He watched in horror as the upper half of his body began to slide off. He had been cleanly sliced in two at the waist.
The energy whip had cauterized his skin but completely severed his internal organs. His upper torso slid off his hips like a slab of wet meat. With a sickening, wet thud, he collapsed next to the girl. His intestines spilled out like coiled ropes, spreading across the freezing pavement.
The girl stared, completely paralyzed. Her mind violently rejected the horrific image before her. But the nightmare was far from over.
*Creeeak…!!*
The massive, burnt bus behind her groaned. Slowly, the two halves of the vehicle began to pull apart. The top half was lifted off the ground and hurled toward her like a missile. The girl looked up. Her eyes went wide with absolute terror.
*SMASH!*
The skeletal iron frame, weighing several tons, crashed down upon her. It didn't just crush her; it completely obliterated her. Her bones shattered like dry twigs. Her internal organs burst.
And then, silence reclaimed the street. Seconds later, the sound of flapping wings returned. The colossal beast landed atop the crushed bus. Its claws scraped against the twisted metal. Unleashing a victorious roar that echoed through the ruins, it bent down and began to lap up the hot blood pooling from the mangled corpse.
But suddenly, from around the corner of a collapsed building, about ten heavily armed men emerged. The beast, still licking the blood, noticed a glowing, ember-like sword embedded in the asphalt. The monster leaped and yanked the sword from the ground.
One of the armed men fired an RPG at it. The rocket whizzed through the air, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. The beast of darkness raised the sword, attempting to block the projectile.
*Boom!*
The explosion was devastatingly powerful. It lifted the beast entirely off the ground and hurled it backward. The ten armed men cheered triumphantly, giving each other high-fives. But from within the thick, billowing smoke, a strange, unnatural sound echoed.
*Swish! Swish!*
A sword strike, flashing like a streak of red lightning, shot out from the smoke. The men on the right had their skulls cleanly cleaved off, their blood geysering into the sky. In sheer panic, the remaining men opened fire blindly into the smoke. But the beast blitzed forward with the speed of light, tearing three of the men apart as if they were made of wet paper.
Everyone scrambled, screaming, "Run for your lives!" The man carrying the communication radio on his back screamed desperately into the mic, "We need backup! Immediate back—!"
*Crunch!*
As the beast landed squarely on top of him, the operator was squashed like a ripe tomato, flattened against the asphalt. The monster scanned the area, and after ensuring it had slaughtered them all, it let out a deafening, blood-curdling roar.
Daruel's dark angels and monstrous beasts had moved beyond Addis Ababa, beginning their relentless spread across the globe. The age of the apocalypse had only just begun.
To be continued…❤❤❤