The High Judge loomed above him, wrapped in threads of living light, each strand woven from law and spirit-covenant. They shimmered faintly like veins of molten gold, pulsing with the weight of a thousand verdicts. Around him, the twelve Justiciars hovered in cold symmetry, faces hidden behind masks that reflected no light, voices sealed in silence.
Above, the sky dimmed until even the sun seemed to cower. Clouds rolled into a colossal halo over the Circle, their edges dripping threads of silver rain that never touched the ground.
Luv stood shackled in celestial steel — cursed chains etched with runes older than the gods themselves. Chains that even the Justiciars feared to touch.
His eyes rose to meet theirs, unblinking, unflinching.
"You freed the forsaken. Burned the Soul Fields. Killed judges, cracked temples, shattered towers," the central Justiciar intoned, voice echoing with a hollow grandeur. "And for what? Mortal insects? Traitors?"
"For life," Luv said quietly. "For a child who only knew screams. For a mother who never got to say goodbye. For truth."
"Blasphemy," hissed another. "You used forbidden arts. Defiled the sacred order."
"You," Luv's voice cut sharp, "are the defilement. You drain souls to light your streets and call it mercy."
Silence spread like frost over the court.
Aira stood behind the Judges, arms folded, her face carved from marble — unreadable. But her eyes betrayed her. They flicked to Luv again and again, as if searching for a trace of the man she thought she knew.
Was that guilt? Fear? Regret?
"You are sentenced to Divine Severance," the central Judge pronounced. "Your soul will be torn from all realms. Forgotten. Scattered across infinity."
The nobles in the gallery cheered, their jeweled hands clapping like the ringing of coins. Soldiers banged their halberds against the marble in rhythm. The prisoners Luv had freed were nowhere in sight.
Luv smiled faintly, almost amused.
"I suppose that means I'll finally be free."
A tremor rippled through the court.
The sky flashed — not with gold, but with the deep, abyssal black of a sunless ocean.
Thunder cracked like the snapping of bone. A wind smelling of ash and burnt feathers howled across the arena.
Then — a scream.
One of the outer Justiciars clawed at his throat. His mask cracked. From his mouth spilled not blood, but glowing soul ichor — molten and blinding — before his body tore open from within.
A jagged black blade punched through his chest, dripping shadows that writhed like living things.
Luv tilted his head.
"I told you… you can chain my flesh. But you will never bind my purpose."
The curse he bore — the agony of one thousand trillion tortured souls — awoke.
It did not whisper. It roared.
The voices of the damned screamed through him, their rage twisting the air. The realm's purity curdled, turning the sky a bruised violet. Statues wept black tears. Runes along the marble floor warped into curses in tongues long buried.
One by one, the Judges began to bleed soul-light, their masks shattering as they screamed.
The celestial steel around Luv's wrists softened, then ran down his arms like molten wax.
He moved.
A guard lunged — Luv caught the blade mid-air, the heat of it searing his palm, and with a twist, drove it back through the man's heart.
Another Judge raised a divine command — but the curse twisted her holy words into mockery, and her jaw split, forcing her to scream her own law back at herself until her body unraveled.
The crowd broke, screaming, trampling each other to escape.
Only Aira stayed.
She could have run. She didn't.
She remembered the night she met Luv, the illusion he wore like a mask. She'd thought she could unmask him. Now she saw it for what it was — not disguise, but restraint.
When he broke into the prisons, she followed. She saw the pits. The soul harvests. The children with empty eyes. She saw what her father had allowed.
She wanted to stop him. She didn't.
Now, as flames crawled over Etheris, she wondered whether she'd betrayed her people… or finally chosen a side.
"You… could have escaped," the Judge croaked. "Lived in peace."
"I did run," Luv said. "For years. But peace is a lie when it costs a thousand lives a day."
He raised the blade — and hesitated.
"You were a hero, once."
The Judge said nothing.
Luv stepped back and lowered his weapon. Not out of mercy, but because some men deserved to live long enough to watch their lies turn to ash.
By dawn, Etheris lay in ruins.
The towers were broken spines. The Judges — dead. The prisons — emptied.
And in every shattered street, his name echoed.
Not "Kael."
Not "boy."
Not even "traitor."
But Luv.
Some whispered "the Devil Who Wept for Mortals." Others spat "the Godslayer of Light."
And the oppressed?
They began to hope.
But high above the burning city, a ripple spread across the heavens. A warning. A summons.
The gods had heard.
And they were coming.