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Chapter 5 - Beneath The Abyss- Part 1

The cave was silent.

Not the silence of peace, but the kind that presses against the skin—thick, patient, and unyielding.

Grief had burned away. Rage had been swallowed whole. In their place stood something far more dangerous: transformation.

Where a wounded boy had once knelt among the ashes of all he loved, there now stood a being reshaped by fury and fate. Claws like obsidian blades. Hair wild and black as the space between stars. Eyes aglow with violet fire, a fusion of draconic sovereignty and infernal wrath.

Vael'Zaryt had changed. Half of the Chaos Dragon's might now burned within him, though the other half remained locked away—his soul and flesh still too fragile to hold the full weight of that ancient terror.

The blood of Demon and Dragon had merged, weaving a vessel that no longer bent to the laws of this world. And in that forging came fragments of memory—echoes not his own. The Chaos Dragon's last visions… guarding a figure before death claimed him.

Who was it?

Could there be another within these depths?

Power rippled through Vael like molten steel, every muscle singing with inhuman strength, every breath heavy with newfound magic. And beneath it all… something called to him.

A pulse. A heartbeat. Deep in the abyss, aching with sorrow and steeped in power.

Against instinct—and wisdom—he followed.

The cave narrowed, the air growing colder with every step until he reached the edge of a chasm where no light dared linger. Without pause, he leapt.

The fall was endless. Darkness thickened into a living thing, clinging to him like tar. Then—no sound, no jolt—he stood upon ancient stone.

Before him rose the carcass of a cathedral. Alien in its design. Ivory spires shattered, stained glass depicting winged figures splintered into jagged teeth. The air itself recoiled from it, and yet trembled at its presence.

Above the great doors, celestial script gleamed faintly:

"To Fall for Truth is to Rise in Chains."

He pushed inside.

The vast hall lay in ruin. Statues lined the walls—angels blinded, angels weeping, angels broken. Symbols of divinity smeared with ash and shadow.

At the altar sat a figure draped in burnt feathers, six tattered wings sagging like defeated banners. His presence bent the air.

Michael.

Once Heaven's Sword. Now… a relic entombed beneath the earth.

"So… one of Chaos has found me at last," the figure said, voice low and resonant.

Vael's gaze sharpened.

"Who are you?"

Eyes like dying stars turned toward him—heavy not with cruelty, but with a grief that could outlast centuries.

"Michael. Archangel. Protector. Traitor. Once I stood among the gods. Now I rot beneath their sky."

Violet fire curled in Vael's palm. "Why does an angel reek of sorrow and burn with wrath? And why—" his voice dropped, cold as the stone beneath them—"did the Chaos Dragon protect you?"

A faint smile touched Michael's lips.

"Because I, too, was abandoned by those I swore to protect."

He rose, the ground shuddering beneath his bare feet.

"When the heavens named your kind 'abomination,' I saw children crying. Families building homes instead of armies. Old ones who prayed in the dark for peace. I spoke for them."

"Raphael, Uriel, the rest… called me diseased."

"They stripped my wings, broke my sword, and cast me down. All for choosing mercy over massacre."

Vael's claws flexed, the memory of his own dead clawing at him. "They slaughtered mine… every last one. But answer me, angel—why would a dragon lay down his life for his enemy?"

Michael's gaze grew solemn. "Because you are not my enemy. You are his heir. His fire is in your blood."

Vael said nothing. The grief coiled tighter.

Michael stepped closer. "The heavens will not stop. They will hunt every soul that dares defy them. You and I… together, we could bring their gates crashing down."

Vael's lips curled into something between a snarl and a smile. "Do I look like someone who'd take an angel at his word?"

Michael's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained steady. "I don't need your trust. Only your strength. Become my pupil. Survive my training. Land a single strike on me—without magic—and I'll answer every question. I'll even give you a gift."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Only offering what you cannot win without."

Vael's mind raced. Even with the Chaos Dragon's legacy, he could feel it—Michael was a storm he couldn't weather. Yet the offer gleamed like a poisoned blade; dangerous, but sharp enough to cut the throats of those who wronged him.

"Fine," Vael said at last. "But know this—I'll never bow to you."

Michael's smile was almost human. "Then we understand each other."

And somewhere deep inside, Vael knew—whether ally or trap, training beneath the greatest warrior Heaven had birthed would forge him into something the gods themselves would dread.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The hollow church around them seemed to listen, its broken saints and blinded angels bearing witness to an alliance neither holy nor damned. Two exiles, both fallen not for cruelty… but for love.

Michael extended his hand.

"Join me, Vael'Zaryt. Not as monster or angel. Not as demon or godspawn—"

"—But as justice," Vael finished, his voice low, "forged from the ashes of betrayal."

His gaze drifted from the hand to the cracked altar, then to the black void above. Pride anchored him. Even if Michael's strength eclipsed his a hundredfold, he would not bend the knee.

"Prove to me you're not lying."

Michael's head tilted slightly.

"And how would I do that?"

Vael's grin was thin and sharp.

"I have an idea."

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