Chapter 1383 - 80: The Celestial Kingdom’s Stairway

Ascend!

Pierce through the raging rain and black clouds, cast aside the city ablaze with war behind you.

Ascend!

Pass beyond the dense masses of thunder, as the booming clamor grows ever more distant.

Ascend!

Ceaselessly ascend.

Rise from the dim lowlands, traverse layer upon layer of hardship and peril, ever climbing, until you reach the end of the firmament, that radiance-shrouded terminus of Ascension.

To stand upon a land of gold.

"How beautiful..."

The voice of the Evil Anomaly oozed distortion and contortion, yet spoke laden with emotion.

Its body was clad in gray hard matter that gleamed with metallic luster, like scales, overlapping in strata to form a living Armor.

It bore enormous twin wings, and those wings were still unfolding, stretching until every swelling lump of flesh burst open, and smaller four wings unfurled above and below the first pair—six wings swaying, as though to shroud the sky and blot out the sun.

Its tail dragged behind, a thin, sword-like spike, and its fingernails were replaced by sharper talons, as if it were the Evil Dragon of myth—save that this dragon wore a head almost human.

Upon that head flickered familiar faces: sometimes Ed, sometimes Roger, sometimes other visages. Its features seemed unanchored, unstable; every countenance it wore belonged to those it had devoured and folded into this grand Ascension.

As the faces flickered, each visage was constantly shattering, and in the breaks there showed the darkness beneath—within that darkness, a hundred crimson eyes peered out upon the world.

Perhaps this was the most beautiful sight in all the mortal realm; even such a monstrosity could not help but marvel.

The six wings beat slowly, keeping it suspended in the lofty air, and beneath it rolled an ocean of clouds, evenly spread across all the field of vision, their surface suffused with golden sunlight, like a land of pure gold.

Lift your head, and there lies the dusky heavens, whose edges fade toward a limpid blue, green radiance circling endlessly, drawing the entire world into its embrace.

The stars too grew sharp and clear; this time, between it and them, there was no longer any barrier.

The air thinned, became hard to breathe, yet such a thing was no true hindrance to it. The true harm came from the searing agony deep in its mind—Anti-Memes rampaged, suppressing its power.

The Watchers’ assault had taken effect. Nail Sword after Nail Sword descended, rending Roger’s flesh, nearly grinding his will to dust—but as in the ancient tale.

Back then, humanity too had seemed to lack but that final stroke to Exile God The Inexpressible completely; Delun was the same. Had the last sword fallen, he might indeed have slain Roger, severing the final "path." But Delun failed, and gave Roger a chance to cling to life.

No... he gave The Inexpressible its chance.

Thus he became It.

Roger’s consciousness shattered utterly, seized by the crimson hundred eyes lurking in the dark. It was, in itself, chaos and unmaking; the power it manifested was driven only by brute instinct. Bestial instinct told It that It needed a measure of "intellect" to govern all this. So It kneaded these broken shards of mind together, fashioning the thing It now was.

Beneath the shell, forbidden power churned. It did not hasten to spread calamity further and draw all beings into this vast Ascension. Instead It panted, striving to pluck out the pain lodged within its body.

Invisible blades ran through Its mind; just one more stroke would have been enough to kill It completely. Now It needed to flee the battlefield and let itself mend.

Besides, this place did indeed look pleasing.

In the long quiet, from among the shattered consciousnesses, there welled a feeling of joy. It seemed that Roger, Delun, and the "personae" of the many other broken minds all shared a liking for such a scene.

And small wonder—this was a vista mortals could scarcely hope to glimpse in an entire lifetime, as though this were the true Heaven.

The pure white sea of clouds rolled in silence, stirring the sunlight. The blazing sun hung high within the dusk, so bright it was impossible to look upon directly; one could only turn aside and feel its heat—scorching, venomous—falling upon the Scale Armor, bringing a slight yet strangely pleasant sting.

Most sounds had vanished; even the voice of the wind thinned to almost nothing. So lovely, so...

Suddenly, within the long silence, a fine noise began to rasp. It turned its head, yet could not locate the source of the sound. At once It felt pain—the sun’s pricking heat grew hotter, till at last it flared into incandescent torment.

Its form began to sway, listing to one side. Its wings were burning open in countless rents, and great, wet masses of flesh and blood fell away.

What is happening?

It thought thus, and then another stream of blazing fire surged up from below, bursting through the golden earth, stabbing straight toward Heaven.

The six wings thrummed; It slipped past the onrushing torrent with ease. Then the clouds were churned, something cleaving through them at terrible speed. It sought to give chase to that figure, but saw only a streak of lightning-swift radiance, ripping the cloud-banks apart and hanging high above Its head.

It raised its head, baring savage claws and fangs, each one like a keen blade, glinting with an edge that stabbed at the eye.

But that flash overlapped with the blazing sun, and the instant surge of light left It blind. Then the roar of fury broke forth.

A steel Giant Blade drove through Its chest, and then a heavy Armor slammed into Its body. Roaring fire tailed that charging figure, carrying It down, smashing through the golden land, plunging straight into the thunderclouds boiling below.

It tried to tear this assailant away, but the foe clung fast to It; Iron Feathers folded in close, like a falling spear.