I. The Sky Is Tinted with Judgment
The sky above the Morningstar Citadel had transformed into a nightmare vault. The battleship Heaven's Wrath hung over the horizon like a living threat, its hull of obsidian and silver reflecting purple lightning that tore through the atmosphere. The Hammer of the Purple Sky, suspended between rings of energy, vibrated with a force as ancient as a god's resentment. Every pulse rippled through the city, making the stones of the ground tremble and the leaves of the Star Tree curl in fear.
The pressure was such that even the great elders felt as if a thousand-handed giant were trying to crush them into the earth. The air was thick, sharp, and saturated with ozone. The System, invisible to all but Samael, flashed frantic warnings:
[Artifact Charge: 90%] [Threat Level: Saint Realm Stage 4 (Artifact Amplified)] [Barrier Collapse Probability: 100%]
In the Dragon Tower, Samael stood tall at the prow of the Herald of the Void. His aura, for the first time since the clan's awakening, was completely unrestrained: a column of black and red Qi, so dense it looked like a bottomless pit, rose and tore through the clouds. His eyes, now vertical slits with dragon irises, glowed with cold hostility. A slight tremor ran through the citadel, as if the earth itself recognized that the balance of power had shifted.
—"They think we are prey," Samael's voice, distorted by the void, echoed through both the spiritual and physical planes. "They have forgotten that the Void is always hungry."
Beside him, Kael sharpened his crimson greatsword, muscles taut, jaw clenched. Eris kept her gaze high, her hair billowing like a white flame, hand ready on the hilt of her burning spear. Violeta closed her eyes, breathing deeply, connecting with the pulse of space and the cracks in the enemy shield. Behind them, Malak was pure shadow, his eyes glowing like dying embers.
Each felt the pressure, but the presence of their Patriarch—now a Saint—was a shield against despair.
—"Violeta," Samael ordered with a barely perceptible gesture. "Synchronize with me. You mark the destination; I break the door." Violeta nodded without hesitation. Her deep blue eyes lit up with silver specks and geometric lines that turned like cosmic clocks. —"Their barrier's southern node has a 0.3-second defect in rotation. There is an echo of vibration, right before the central pulse." —"Enough."
II. The Assault of Kings
—"Spatial Domain: Sovereign's Step!" Samael struck the air with his fist wrapped in the void. The sound was that of glass shattering into a thousand fragments and, simultaneously, the absolute silence of an abyss. Space itself folded, collapsing the distance between the Herald of the Void and the enemy battleship. Violeta, synchronized, activated her Rift Jump: the air around her turned iridescent blue, her figure blurring into reflections of light and frost.
When both powers converged, the battleship's barrier—woven to repel any frontal assault—could not comprehend the intrusion. Instead of being struck, it was pierced from within its own logic, as if the concepts of "inside" and "outside" had ceased to exist for a heartbeat.
CRACK! The group appeared on the main deck of the Heaven's Wrath, surrounded by columns of steam and spiraling fragments of energy.
A moment of silence, and then chaos. Three thousand elite soldiers of the Sect of the Purple Light surrounded the deck, weapons raised, shield formations ready, and rows of archers with lightning-wrapped arrows. The explosion of the Morningstar arrival unleashed screams—some of horror, others of defiance.
Samael did not even unsheathe his sword. He took a single step forward and dropped his Saint Pressure. —"Kneel."
The word was a command, a natural law. The air became as dense as liquid lead. Gravity multiplied a hundredfold. Two thousand soldiers, all below the Origin Realm, collapsed immediately, bones snapping, foam bubbling from their mouths. Only the experts at the half-step to Saint managed to remain standing, but they trembled like leaves whipped by a gale.
A commander, eyes wide with terror, screamed as he fell to his knees: —"It's a Saint! The intelligence was wrong! They have a Saint!"
III. Clash of Divinities
From the command bridge, three explosive auras descended, breaking the atmosphere with the force of a storm. Grand Ancestor Valerius (True Saint Stage 3 - Peak) crashed into the center of the deck, each step leaving cracks in the reinforced metal. Beside him stood Matriarch Ysabel (Saint Stage 2), wrapped in a mantle of liquid poisons that danced like serpents, and the Mercenary Gorth (Saint Stage 1), a giant covered in steel plates with a double-axe crackling with lightning.
Valerius, of imposing build and severe face, studied Samael with a mix of surprise and hunger. —"A Stage 1 Saint... So young. You have hidden your fangs well, boy. But there is a difference between touching the sky and owning it."
Samael unsheathed the Odachi of the Ravenous Eclipse. The black blade absorbed the light, and the air around it rippled. His blood, now a river of primordial lineage, boiled beneath his skin, emitting red steam. —"Your sky is in my way. So, I am going to break it."
He vanished. It wasn't speed; it was a brief negation of existence. He reappeared in front of Valerius, the Odachi descending like a lightning bolt of the void. Valerius raised his hand, wrapped in starlight. —"Law of Pressure: Wall of Atlas."
The air solidified into an invisible plane. Samael's sword crashed against it, and a shockwave swept the deck, tossing bodies and armor aside like broken toys. The barrier creaked but did not yield.
IV. Dragon vs. Titan
Samael and Valerius were two blurs of black and purple light, moving so fast that mortal eyes could barely catch flashes. Every one of Valerius's blows carried the weight of mountains: palms invoking gravitational pressures, fists wrapped in solar flames.
But Samael did not fight with brute force. When Valerius launched a palm of energy, the Odachi devoured it amidst sparks of void. When he tried to crush him with gravity, Samael used the Law of Blood to accelerate his body beyond the physical, dodging and counterattacking from impossible angles.
—"Cut!" Samael's blade grazed Valerius's cheek, drawing a drop of golden blood. The ancestor recoiled, touching the wound in disbelief. —"You wounded me? Me? A brat who just ascended?"
Samael panted, red steam erupting from his pores as his body tore and regenerated at the same time. —"I told you... I'm hungry."
Valerius roared, his pride wounded. —"Enough games!" He raised both hands toward the Hammer of the Purple Sky. A beam of energy descended, fusing with his aura. For an instant, Valerius's power touched Stage 4: the air vibrated, the deck groaned, and the pressure became unbearable. Samael was pushed down, his knees trembled, and the metal floor exploded beneath his feet.
V. The Girl and the Thread of Fate
In the citadel, Celeste watched the sky from Seraphina's arms. She felt her father's pain like an echo in her chest. The Black Destiny pulsating within her—that primal force that even the System feared—stirred.
Celeste raised her hand and closed her fist over an invisible thread. It was destiny, luck, the mystical connection between Valerius and the Divine Artifact. —"Break!" Celeste stammered, her cheeks puffing out in a pout.
VI. The Reverse Scale
At the climax of Valerius's power, the Hammer of the Sky failed. It didn't explode. It simply "coughed." The spiritual connection was severed, and the flow of Qi reversed for a microsecond.
Valerius spat blood, his technique collapsing from within. The pressure vanished. The soldiers and experts present felt as if a titan had been lifted from their shoulders. Samael saw the opening. He felt the echo of his daughter—pride and fury mixed in his chest.
—"FATAL ERROR!" He channeled everything: space, void, blood. —"Secret Dragon Art: Fang of the Horizon!"
He lunged forward at an impossible speed. Valerius, dazed, hurriedly raised a defense of light. Too late. The Odachi pierced the defense, the celestial armor, and drove into Valerius's chest, pinning him against the main mast.
Samael brought his face close to the ancestor's. —"If you look at my daughter again..." he whispered, twisting the blade and injecting corrosive void Qi, "...I will eat your soul."
VII. The Retreat of the Bleeding God
Ysabel and Gorth, seeing their leader fall, panicked. They abandoned Kael and Eris, rushing toward Valerius. Violeta caught the danger: —"The Hammer's core is going to explode due to instability!"
Samael pulled the Odachi out with a jerk, throwing an arc of golden blood into the air. He fell to his knees, exhausted, his body trembling on the edge of collapse. —"We're leaving!" he ordered.
Violeta, already synchronized, deployed a spatial portal. Just as the team vanished into the rift, the Hammer of the Sky released an internal shockwave. The battleship split like a nut, throwing flames and fragments into the void. The ship, out of control, spiraled down toward the desert.
VIII. Epilogue: The Pyrrhic Victory
The group reappeared in the center of the plaza, beneath the Star Tree. The citadel trembled as disciples and elders rushed to surround them. Samael landed on his feet but staggered. Kael held him up, shielding him from collapse.
Seraphina ran toward Samael with Celeste in her arms. The little girl laughed, oblivious to the danger. Samael took her and kissed her forehead. —"Good job, princess," he whispered, his voice broken.
Lilith and the elders descended from the tower. From the crowd, a chant arose—first timid, then deafening: —"Morningstar! Morningstar! Morningstar!"
Samael raised his fist, still stained with golden blood. —"We have bled a Stage 3 Saint!" he shouted. "Let the world know that Morningstar is no longer a clan... We are a Power!"
IX. Final Reflection
That night, Samael rested alone. The system deployed new notifications:
[Critical Victory. New Reputation: Emerging Power.] [Lineage Luck: +500% for the next month.]
But Samael felt the physical weight: every nerve burned. He had crossed the threshold, but the price was only beginning to be paid. In the garden, Celeste was surrounded by young apprentices. One tied a red ribbon to her wrist. —"So you never leave, princess."
Seraphina, hugging her daughter, whispered: —"Peace is just a stolen night between storms. But today, the aurora is yours."
Samael, before sleeping, looked at the star pendant on Celeste's neck. He promised in silence—as a leader, as a father, and as a son of the legend—that he would allow no enemy, no matter how divine, to bend the Morningstar spirit.