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Arthur drifted through the pale grass, the place felt like it belonged to a living world, not a conjured place. The sky was a dome of slow-moving gold, clouds swirling around branches, actual branches, colossal and ancient, stretching across the heavens like veins in a divine body. The scent in the air wasn't fabricated either; it carried something old, something that didn't feel programmed or system-born.
He exhaled, long and steady.
"…Yeah," he murmured to himself. "I don't think these dimensions are made up by the system anymore."
He stopped walking.
A warm breeze rolled past him, carrying faint motes of glowing dust. It felt like standing inside a myth one he wasn't supposed to trespass in. His eyes traced up the massive trunk dwarfing mountains, the World Tree reaching beyond sight.
The system's dimensions always had seams subtle but there. A sense of containment, of rules.
But this…
"This place is so alive," Arthur whispered. "Like it's been here long before creation itself."
His hand brushed the bark of a tree root bigger than a skyscraper. It thrummed beneath his fingers warm. Alive and conscious.
He stepped back, gaze sharpening.
"I'm starting to think these places are real," he said. "And I'm the one getting teleported to them… not the system fabricating them."
Something pulsed overhead.
Arthur's eyes lifted toward the sprawling branches above. They pulsed not metaphorically, but literally. Soft, rhythmic beats. As if blood flowed through them.
A sudden awareness prickled down his spine.
Something was alive in them.
Multiple somethings.
His pupils thinned. The violet glow crept into his irises, lighting them like twin amethysts. His Shadow Ring shimmered, resonating with a faint hum as if also sensing what he was sensing.
He focused while using [Enhanced Vision]
Then he saw them.
Inside the translucent channels of the World Tree, dozens… no, hundreds of silhouettes. Curled shapes. Sleeping. Waiting. Gestating like seeds.
A slow realization spread across Arthur's face.
"Of course…" he breathed. "I remember now."
Two shadow blades materialized in his hands.
His expression hardened, violet eyes narrowing with recognition.
"The silver-armored winged soldiers," he muttered. "Or rather… the Heavenly Soldiers."
The World Tree responded to their naming.
A rumble deep and ancient rolled through the land. The branches above bulged. Not like wood cracking or breaking, but like fruit ripening.
Arthur's stance shifted, both blades angled downward as he prepared.
Along the branches, shapes began to form smooth, luminescent pods the size of carriages, swelling outward. One after another. Dozens. Hundreds.
Then they split.
Not violently, but like petals peeling open to reveal the sharp silhouettes of beings descending. White-skinned. Winged. Armored in shimmering silver plates with etched markings that pulsed faintly. Helmets adorned with crests that looked grown, not forged.
Their wings unfolded like blades of light, feathers glowing white.
Arthur slowly tilted his head up, lips pressing together in a tight, impressed line as more and more emerged. The sky filled with them, an entire host.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
They hovered in silence, each pair of eyes glowing from behind their helmets.
Arthur exhaled a humorless little chuckle.
"I can tell they're strong," he said softly, voice carrying across the still air. "Stronger than many things I've fought."
He took one step forward, blades lowering into a ready stance.
"But what a terrible thing that is," he muttered. "Being born just moments ago… and already meant to die."
A ripple passed through the Heavenly Soldiers like a single mind acknowledging its first order.
Arthur raised one blade.
"Alright then," he whispered. "Let's begin."
And the sky descended upon him.
The Heavenly Soldiers thousands of them hovered in the golden light like a storm held together by discipline alone. No voices, no breath, no hesitation. Just the rustle of armor and the flapping of feathers. Their eyes cold and locked onto Arthur.
in perfect synchrony, they leveled their weapons.
Spears of radiant metal. Blades grown from luminous energy. Bows that formed strings of pure light.
All of them aiming at one man.
Arthur didn't flinch.
Not at the killing intent, not at the sheer divine pressure crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
In fact… he smiled.
A quiet, sad curl of the mouth. Not mocking, but something bordering on pity.
The wind brushed his cloak "I see it now," he murmured to himself, to the strange aching understanding forming behind his ribs. "You really were born for this, weren't you?"
Thousands of beings formed from a sacred tree, created for only one purpose, and thrown into their first seconds of existence with weapons in hand.
Arthur didn't run.
He didn't brace himself with tension or grit.
He simply settled into his stance shoulders loose, fingers tightening around the hilts.
He exhaled, slow and steady, violet eyes narrowing. He raised his blades.
The Heavenly Soldiers surged as one, a silver-and-white wave of armored wings and glowing weapons, descending from the branches like a storm of celestial spears. Their formation was flawless their helmets gleaming in the radiant light as they leveled their arms, blades, and lances toward him.
With a fluid motion, he leapt into the air, launching himself toward the first wave. Shadows tore from his boots, forming wings that carried him higher, slicing through the gaps between branches and leaves, each strike of his blades leaving arcs of dark energy glowing against the World Tree's golden light.
The first soldier met him midair, a gleaming spear thrust forward. Arthur's twin blades met it with a metallic clash, shadows licking the tip as he twisted and cleaved, sending the soldier spinning into the void, wings unraveling into sparks of light as it hit the branches below. Another lunged, a sword of pure white light arcing toward his head. Arthur ducked gracefully, shadow wings beating, then spun, swinging both blades in a deadly horizontal sweep. The blade's edges cut through armor and bone alike though Arthur noted they were more constructs than flesh sending the soldiers scattering like shattered reflections.
Around him, the sky itself seemed alive. Branches swayed under the sheer force of their battle, leaves scattering like silver sparks. From below, distant clusters of soldiers rose, their wings beating in unison, forming a storm of white and silver energy. Arthur streaked through them, blades swinging in wide, elegant arcs, shadow constructs extending and retracting like serpents, severing spears, crushing armored limbs, leaving a trail of ethereal darkness.
One of the soldiers attempted a flank, wings spread in a dive, energy blade aimed at his side. Arthur twisted midair, using the momentum to vault over the soldier, his shadow blades following in a deadly crescent, striking down the attacker. The metallic sound of cleaving echoed through the World Tree, blending with the whispers of leaves, creating a haunting symphony.
He could see them all now the soldiers weren't just fighting; they were trying to anticipate, to adapt. Yet every strike he made seemed inevitable, unstoppable. With each swing, Arthur's violet aura intensified, shadow energy writhing around him like living fire, feeding on his will, bending the very laws of this dimension to his command.
More soldiers descended, hundreds more, wings shining like blades of light. Arthur's shadow blades extended, elongating midair, spinning in twin arcs that sliced cleanly through the wave, severing spears, armor, and winged limbs alike. The air was alive with motion, a celestial storm of darkness and light. The World Tree trembled under the force, its branches quivering with the weight of hundreds of lives ending at once.
"They are strong," Arthur admitted, almost reverently. "But where is that person..."
With a sudden pivot, he launched himself skyward, spinning his blades in a vertical whirlwind. Soldiers collided into the spinning shadows like moths into a candle, armor shattering, weapons snapping, wings shredding into light. Arthur's shadow wings flared behind him, creating a vortex that swallowed those that tried to press too close.
The clash of steel, the cries of celestial beings, the rush of wind, and the resonance of shadow energy all combined into a cinematic spectacle that painted the sky with gold, silver, and violet. Arthur moved like a god among soldiers, untouchable, precise, merciless but not cruel, each strike was acknowledging the soldiers' strength before ending it.
He hovered for a moment above the shattered remnants of his assault, blades dripping shadow and blood, aura burning bright, and let out a slow, controlled breath.
"So many of them dead already," he murmured, eyes narrowing, scanning the remaining soldiers. "And yet… it's only just begun."
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/FrenzyAren"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want