Bloodline: Sovereign's Awakening - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: When Radiance Breed Ruins VII
The air inside the Celestial Seal Castle was thick with incense and the residual hum of enchantments.

Within the grand halls of recuperation, Virelio lay unconscious upon a woven bed of silken threads, his body a husk of its former self, pale and utterly drained.

The aftermath of his prolonged battle against the monstrous entity had left him teetering on the edge of exhaustion, his very life force siphoned by the clinging miasma that still wreathed his form like unseen shackles.

Grand Matriarch Iskayna, draped in layers of celestial-weaved robes, stood at the foot of his resting chamber, her face unreadable as she observed the healers weaving golden threads of recovery around Virelio’s body.

Though he had delivered a powerful blow against the entity, the cost had been severe. His pulse was faint, his breath shallow, but he still survived facing off against the monstrosity alone.

Beyond the chamber, Elder Marcon and Saphira had just returned from reinforcing the Kalasag’s Barrier, a magnificent defense interwoven with the might of countless ancient guardians.

Their energy outbursts tattered their robes as they strengthened the barrier, their hands still trembling from the sheer force needed to maintain the seal against the relentless onslaught of abyssal energy.

They now stood beside the Grand Matriarch, their gazes locked onto the beast hovering in the sky, a twisted colossus of madness, still suspended yet writhing in torment. It was a being that defied sanity, a cataclysm-given form, its body a chaotic fusion of countless malformed limbs, gnashing maws, slithering tendrils, and howling orifices that spewed blackened mist. An unholy orchestra of agony.

And yet, the divine chorus of the Order of Liwanag echoed across the expanse, their harmonic exorcism radiating from the four cardinal points of the Tala Domain. Their sacred hymns, infused with ancestral resonance, had momentarily stalled the creature’s rampage. The air itself shimmered with golden light, as if reality itself was resisting the abomination’s very existence.

Still, the Grand Matriarch did not look relieved.

Instead, her fingers curled into a fist.

“If something forced the Order to intervene… then something far worse is approaching.”

Her voice carried across the observatory, where the elders had gathered, each one tense as they bore witness to the monster’s evolution.

It was growing and changing.

A deep, resonating howl—a sound no mortal throat could ever replicate—rippled through the heavens.

The entity’s shape convulsed violently as it shed its last remnants of rationality, its disembodied parts converging into a single, grotesque titan. A true Abyssal Titan.

Tendrils wove themselves into the shifting, distorted mass of its form, slithering like endless serpents, their movements rippling like a storm-churned sea. The miasma that had once spilled across the land was now devoured into the creature’s very being, condensing its malice and reforging it into pure, unshackled destruction.

Virelio’s last attack had wounded it more than they realized.

The corrosive damage from his last assault had seeped into its very essence, weakening its ability to regenerate and leaving it raw to the luminous light’s affliction. Yet, even dulled, its menace was beyond measure.

Then—

A soundless quake.

Something shattered the air as if it had broken the sky itself. Reality trembled.

The Abyssal Titan moved.

Not with brute force. Not with lumbering steps. But by distorting space itself.

A maelstrom of void-born winds tore through the air—then a rupture. Space itself convulsed. CRACK!

Dimensional rifts exploded all across the Celestial Seal Castle, as though unseen claws had slashed through existence itself. The monster reappeared in all rifts at once, like a multiplicity of its twisted form, and it unleashed a tempest of devastating clawed strikes.

One strike. Ten. A hundred.

Each claw lashed against the Kalasag Barrier, a relentless, brutal assault faster than any mortal eye could perceive. The castle quaked. The very air screamed.

The barrier shuddered. A ripple, unnatural and hungry, slithered across its golden surface. Then—cracks.

The barrier would not hold.

Marcon gritted his teeth. “We have to—”

“No,” Iskayna interrupted, her voice sharp as a blade. “You will remain here.”

Her tone left no room for argument.

“This is beyond your reach. If the barrier collapses, it will take all of you to restore it before the beast reaches the castle’s core.”

Her gaze turned to the battlefield, a chaotic, ever-warping space where the monster raged beyond reason.

“I will face it myself.”

A beat of silence.

Saphira clenched her fists. “You can’t fight it alone!”

“Alone?” Iskayna allowed a rare smirk. “You underestimate me, Saphira. Remember that I am the Grand Matriarch of our family for a reason?”

Threads of luminous gold coalesced around her form, winding together like strands of destiny. The surrounding air fractured and reformed, bending under the sheer weight of her presence. A power ancient as the stars pulsed from her being.

She stepped forward. Beyond the barrier.

Into the storm. And the heavens shook in answer.

The battlefield stretched in a ruinous expanse, a shattered garden of celestial beauty now marred by decay. What was once a divine sanctuary, filled with radiant flora and sacred pools reflecting the heavens, had become a desolate wasteland. The air was thick with the scent of scorched petals and burnt soil, mingling with the acrid stench of abyssal corruption. Each breath carried a metallic tang, the remnants of reality fraying at the edges as the Abyssal Titan’s presence warped existence itself.

The grand trees, once draped in luminous blossoms, stood as skeletal remains, ashen, hollow, and trembling under the weight of the battle. Faint remnants of golden luminescence flickered in the air like fireflies, the dying traces of the garden’s former glory. The wind howled, whispering the last echoes of the fallen, voices lost to time, swept away into the abyss.

Yet amid this desolation, Iskayna stood, a radiant ember against the creeping void. The golden luminescence that coiled around her form was fierce and untamed, casting long, dancing shadows upon the ruined ground. Her glow did not flicker like a candle in the storm; it blazed like a celestial inferno, unwavering, defiant. She was a living sun in the heart of the abyss.

The shrieks of the Abyssal Titan tore through the fabric of reality, a chorus of agony that grated against the soul. The very air trembled with its resonance, vibrating deep into the bones, a sound too primal to be ignored. Its malformed limbs—elongated and pulsating with raw malevolence—lurched toward her in a grotesque ballet, tendrils writhing with an insatiable hunger. Countless maws gnashed along its shifting appendages, gnawing at the very essence of existence, devouring even the light that dared to touch it.

And yet, Iskayna did not yield. She moved with an elegance beyond mortal reach—fluid as water, swift as the whispering wind, fierce as an unbridled wildfire.

She did not merely dodge; she flowed. Each step was a ripple on the battlefield, her presence a streak of golden afterimages, a mirage of divine brilliance. The abyss reached, and she was already gone—light piercing through the ever-consuming dark.

Then she raised her hands.

Behind her, twelve luminous threads unfurled like celestial tails, each strand pulsing with the woven might of the cosmos itself. They rose, drifting into the heavens, aligning with the stars above. The patterns formed—intricate, ancient, resolute. A constellation burned into existence, the embodiment of sovereign will and cosmic dominion.

Leo.

The summoned beast emerged, a spirit of unfathomable majesty, its mane aflame with the radiance of twin suns, its celestial form outlined in golden fire. Across: A declaration, a reckoning, surged across the battlefield as the sky trembled in its roar. The sound did not merely echo; it commanded. It did not shatter the land, but it eradicated the very notion of destruction itself.

The Abyssal Titan responded in kind, its monstrous limbs convulsing as it reformed, merging its countless maws into a singular, grotesque behemoth. The air distorted as another rift opened, and then a sickening tear, in reality, itself brought it inches from Iskayna in less than a blink.

But the lion struck.

A claw of celestial fire raked against the abyssal horror, and the world screamed.

A detonation beyond mortal comprehension erupted upon impact, a volcanic bang that sent shockwaves rippling across the domain. The air itself fractured, space bending and twisting under the sheer force of their collision.

Sovereign might and abyssal ruin tore the fabric of existence, causing it to howl in protest. The battlefield was no longer just earth and sky—it had become the crossroads of devastation and defiance.

Iskayna faltered for the briefest moment, her form wavering beneath the unbearable weight of their clash. She did not take her eyes off the monster—not for a second. To do so would mean death. One mistake, and she would not last even as long as Virelio had.

She grits her teeth. Hold on.

Her mind whispered the same hope she refused to say aloud. Someone… someone must come. Someone must end this.

For if they did not, the heavens would crumble, and the abyss would consume all.

Iskayna gritted her teeth as the Leo Constellation began to wane, its celestial fire dimming under the sheer strain of maintaining its presence. The threads of her power trembled, slipping through her grasp like sand through clenched fingers. She had held on for as long as she could, but even an Echoed Sovereign had limits.

With a final, resounding roar, the great lion flickered and shattered into golden embers, scattering across the battlefield like dying stars. The void surged forward, sensing weakness, its many gnashing maws screeching in anticipation. But Iskayna was already weaving another constellation—Taurus.

A deafening boom followed as a massive, spectral bull took form, its body shimmering with earthy bronze and burning sigils of ancient might. Its hooves crushed the broken terrain beneath it, anchoring itself like an immovable titan against the abyssal monstrosity. Though lesser in raw destruction compared to Leo, Taurus embodied resilience, endurance, and unyielding will.

Iskayna moved in perfect harmony with her summons, flowing around the battlefield like an unbridled petal carried by unseen currents, always just beyond the abyss’s grasp. Each step was a fleeting moment of survival; each breath was a reminder of how much longer she had to endure.

The ground quaked as the Titan lashed out, its writhing limbs crashing down like collapsing towers. Taurus met every impact head-on, its massive horns deflecting the blows, its weight absorbing the force that would have otherwise torn through the land. But with each clash, cracks formed along its celestial form—fractures in its divine essence.

Then, with one final, world-splitting impact, Taurus shattered.

The defensive wall that had held back the monstrosity was gone. And Iskayna—exhausted, bleeding, her breath ragged—knew she had nothing left.

Her hands trembled, her core threads fraying at their edges. She had yet to unlock the other constellations, and even if she could, she did not have the strength to summon them.

But she had one last card to play.

Her Diwa.

She clenched her fists and began the chant. A piercing pain erupted through her body like fire in her veins, forcing her to her knees for a split second before she pushed through it. And then—

She split.

From her form, another Iskayna emerged—identical in form, yet entirely different. This was no mere illusion, no simple clone. It was her diwa.

The moment it opened its eyes, it grinned.

A slow, wicked smirk of pure delight.

“Finally,” the clone said, stretching its limbs as if waking from a deep slumber. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Its voice was her own, but tinged with something… wild.

Untamed.

The energy rolling off it was suffocating, not in sheer power, but in the unshackled recklessness it exuded.

Iskayna knew this Diwa well. It was an entity-type, one that bore its consciousness, a fragment of herself twisted into something that only lived for battle. It reflected what she could be if she had abandoned restraint. And unlike her, it was free.

The diwa tilted its head, eyes gleaming with something like amusement, as it watched her.

“You’re pathetic,” it said bluntly. Then, without waiting for a reply, it moved.

A blur of motion. A flash of gold and crimson.

A storm of attacks.

The Diwa tore into the abyssal monstrosity with reckless abandon, streaking across the battlefield like a comet set ablaze. Each strike landed with brutal precision, its movements utterly uninhibited, its power unrestrained. It relished in the battle, not just fighting to survive but to savor the very act of combat itself.

As it weaved between the titan’s abyssal limbs, it spoke—mocking her even as it fought for her.

“You’ve wasted years, Iskayna. Years wallowing in hesitation, in stagnation. You call yourself an Echoed Sovereign, but you’re nothing more than a fading ember.”

A barrage of slashes, a gleaming arc of celestial energy, a whirlwind of relentless attacks—all of them landing.

“If you had been bolder—if you had pushed yourself beyond your damn limits—you wouldn’t be here, clinging to survival.”

It leaped onto the titan’s writhing appendages, slicing through abyssal flesh as though it were paper, leaving trails of golden fire in its wake. Even as it laughed, even as it unleashed attack after attack, its words cut deeper than any wound the enemy could inflict.

“You could have been a Fabled Tapestry, Iskayna,” it hissed. “Instead, you’re just rotting away, getting weaker, fading into irrelevance.”

Iskayna clenched her fists, her breathing uneven.

The words hurt because they were true.

Her Diwa—the battle-hungry fragment of her soul—had no reason to lie. As her Diwa carved into the monstrosity with pure, violent glee, Iskayna confronted the painful reality she had been running from for far too long.

She had spent half of her life on the edge of greatness. But she had never taken the last step.

And now, if she didn’t find the strength to change—

She would die here.

Fear.

It had rooted itself deep within her bones, buried so thoroughly in her soul that she had mistaken it for wisdom, for restraint.

The terror of that dark-hooded figure had never left her. The voice, low and guttural, had whispered a decree into her young, trembling ears—a decree that had shaped the course of her entire existence.

“You will remain as you are. No more than that. Cross the threshold beyond an Echoed Sovereign, and your family will experience a mass harvest.”

She had been barely more than a child, freshly crowned Grand Matriarch after the last Head Elder had vanished under mysterious circumstances. But she knew the truth.

She had seen it.

She had watched France, their esteemed Head Elder, crushed like brittle glass in the hands of that cloaked specter. She had felt the pressure of that distorted space—the reality around them warping like fragile silk caught in a storm. The air had been thick with the stench of inevitability, and no power she possessed at the time could have changed what happened.

France hadn’t even had the chance to scream.

His death was not a battle, not a struggle. It was a message. A demonstration. A lesson.

One that had taken root in her very soul.

Even now, as she clashed with the Abyssal Titan, as she faced death itself, the weight of that warning crushed her more than the monster ever could.

The Diwa—the reckless, unshackled fragment of herself—knew it too.

“Still holding back, huh?” it taunted, dodging a massive abyssal limb with a burst of golden speed. “Still shackled by the past? By a shadow?”

Iskayna barely moved in time, skimming past another crushing blow as the battlefield quaked. The monstrous titan roared, splitting the heavens with its abyssal wail, but her Diwa only laughed.

“Pathetic,” it spat, its blades carving deep streaks of celestial light igniting like wildfire against the void. “You’re going to die here because you’re afraid of what happens if you live beyond this point.”

Iskayna’s breath hitched.

“If I break past this… will my family die?”

The question had haunted her for years. It was the reason she had stopped pushing, the reason she had never become a Fabled Tapestry. It was the reason she stood on the battlefield now, barely able to hold her ground, while her own Diwa mocked her weakness.

Her Diwa—her truest self, unburdened by fear.

The abyssal limbs lashed out again, the air cracking like splintering glass as space itself trembled beneath the monster’s wrath.

And in that moment, as the battlefield roared, as her strength dwindled, as the past suffocated her—

She saw herself.

Not the warrior. The Grand Matriarch is not the one. Not the Echoed Sovereign.

Just a girl.

A girl who had never stopped being afraid.