Chapter 58
We left behind a world of calm blue oceans and stepped onto what looked and felt like an enormous tree branch.
The plane of principalities lived in the canopies of colossal, ever-flowering trees.
Walkways connected branches and trees, forming a network of pathways in any place where flying was inconvenient.
When I looked over the edge, I didn’t see ground below, only rolling fluffy white clouds.
“Your Divine Majesty,” a guard captain on the other side of the gate said, spreading his arms to indicate he didn’t intend to fight me. “We were informed that peace negotiations were ongoing.”
He had the same body and size as the celestials one plane below, but golden cracks spread across his form, as if something within was on the verge of hatching.
“They are, but my schedule changed. My offer stands, however. I have no quarrel with you or this plane. Allow me to pass freely, and everyone and everything remains untouched.”
“I am no king or noble, your Excellency. I have no power to make these decisions on behalf of the people I serve, but I assure you, neither my men nor I have any interest in fighting with you. Please give us time to fetch a superior.”
A trumpet blared in the distance, and the guard captain seemed to relax.
“That sound means a representative of our king approaches,” he explained. “Please tarry for a few more minutes, your Grace.”
10 celestials adorned in armor made of diamonds and carrying weapons forged from sunlight descended on the gate. The only woman in the group landed directly in front of me and dropped to one knee, her head down.
“The gate to the plane of powers is on the other side of the city,” she said. “The King has ordered me to be your guide and escort. As you said, we are not enemies. Does this place you, your Divine Majesty?”
“Yes. Lead on.”
The escort surrounded my small army, which seemed like a pitifully small security force at first. Even if their levels were high, 10 soldiers against over 1,000 were poor odds.
But as we traveled through the city, I saw their true purpose. They weren’t protecting their people from us. They protected their people from themselves, managing crowds and reassuring the exceptionally hot-headed that, despite what this looked like, my force was not invading.
In less than an hour, we stood before the gate to the plane of powers, but it was not what I expected.
“I was told that the plane of powers sealed their side of the gate to prevent ascensions,” I said to my escort.
“That was the truth. The plane of powers has been made aware of your approach as well as the terms you offered to our plane.”
None of these celestials were surrendering to me or my forces, but seeing army after army of potential enemies lay down their weapons to let me pass still made me feel like a grand conqueror. When I stepped through to the next plane, the plane of powers, celestials knelt to greet me.
Their bodies were a dull gold with silver wings, and they each had a third eye on their foreheads. Every eye that I saw was closed. I learned later that the eye would open when they ascended to the plane of virtues and would fade completely if they ascended again to the plane of dominions.
This plane felt like the top floor of the tower.
I didn’t see a single tree or flower that didn’t look as if it were positioned carefully by hand, and the marble roads and pathways seemed to stretch endlessly into the horizon, as if every inch of this world had been covered in the blindingly white stone.
“I am humbled to be in the presence of the God of Silk,” the celestial greeting us said. “An envoy from the plane of seraphim awaits you in the palace. They wish to discuss your intentions.”
“Where is the palace relative to the next gate?”
“I believe in human parlance, the distance is akin to 100 miles.”
“Unacceptable. I will wait here for an hour. If no one has come to speak with me, my campaign will continue as planned.”
“Yes, your Grace,” the celestial said. He nodded at one of the guards, who took flight immediately.
For me, the hour passed quickly. For the celestials surrounding us on the plane of powers, I suspect that time trickled slowly.
They were at the mercy of what their superiors decided should happen in this situation, and 60 minutes was a long while to stare at the angry boners protruding from 1,000 Byron bots.
My chest tightened at the sight of four winged beings approaching. They were larger than Arcturus and were adorned in armor forged from sunlight. They had six arms, and diamonds seemed to grow out of their skin like rhinestones.
Their beauty weakened my legs, making me feel small, insignificant, and powerless.
Was this the seraphim version of Abyssal Gaze, I wondered? If I fixed it in my mind that the system made me feel this way, I could separate myself from it, but I had to keep one hand on the door if I wished it to stay closed. The power of the seraphim never stopped pushing upon on me.
A female seraphim landed a few feet in front of me.
“Greetings, Byron of Zaglis,” she said. “I am Sariela, and I have come to you on behalf of my people, the seraphim, to petition for the end of this senseless campaign.”
This celestial was not keen on acknowledging my godhood, it seemed. That was an unignorable indicator of how this conversation could go.
“I would hear your offer,” I replied.
“Return to the material plane, and we will not pursue your annihilation. Your choice here can prevent countless deaths, Byron of Zaglis.”
I sighed. “Your demands and your threats are insulting. I was told you came to discuss peace.”
“And that is the truth.”
“This is no discussion.”
“Do you decline our terms?” Sariela asked.
“On my home plane, there is a wartime tradition designed, as you said, to prevent countless deaths. Instead of two armies battling, two champions are picked to represent either side of the conflict.”
“Celestials have similar traditions.”
I took a glance at my system profile.
Progress to Your Fall: 83 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
And any time now, Abaddon’s army would break through our resistance in the mountains to begin their march across the tundra to Sanctuary.
I had passed the point where small bets were viable some time ago.
Every choice since then had been one massive gamble after another.
Slow and steady was, simply, no longer an option.
“Pick a champion from among the seraphim,” I said. “I will face them, and when I win, I will be merciful and spare your world. Once I have acquired what I desire, I intend to withdraw and continue this conflict no longer.”
“What is it you desire?”
“Can you agree to these terms on behalf of your people?”
“In totality, I cannot. I can agree to a contest of champions, but I cannot speak to what comes after. If it pleases you, we can meet again in two days' time. I will bring our champion as well as someone who can speak to terms on behalf of our world.”
With Abaddon knocking, two days felt more like two years.
“How do I know you will fulfill your promise and give me my contest?” I asked.
“If my people do not agree to a contest of champions as I have promised, I will forfeit my soul and the souls of my wives and children to you.”
“You swear it?”
“I swear it.”
+8 Progress to Your Fall.
Progress to Your Fall: 91 / 100 (Abaddon, King of the Abyss)
At this point, I no longer believed that these progress notifications were at all objective.
They likely had some real-world relevance, but I only saw positive results when I believed I had achieved something productive.
Never had an action I felt was inconsequential produced a notification, and I was not so naive as to believe I could fully predict the ramifications of every choice I made.
Surely, at some point, I did something unintentionally that benefited me. And the reverse had to be true as well.
The system was playing Abaddon and me, feeding the right messages at the right time to keep us invested in this war.
“Very well. In two days, I will face the seraphim champion in single combat.”
Enemies have breached your westernmost border.
A moment after my Vigilant King ability gave me that notification, Invia announced, “They broke through the mountains.”
My private room in Sanctuary had become our war room, and I couldn’t stop pacing.
Anything I could think of to prepare for this moment was done.
I made my choices. I put my plans in motion.
The arrow had been loosed, and all I could do now was watch its flight.
Would I hit my target and live to see tomorrow? Or was this the end of my story?
I could do nothing but wait.
Purity and Solara sat on one of the couches, holding hands to comfort one another. Podni paced like me, and Ashley stood next to Invia by the windows. They both had spyglasses pointed west, attempting to spot the demon army despite the snowfall.
Abaddon’s forces had miles of difficult terrain to cover, and abyssals fared poorly in the cold, so that march would be a difficult one.
Two hours of pacing passed before Ashley said, “I see them.”
The sky to the west filled with fire.
Solara had predicted this. Abaddon had mages powerful enough to use weather magic.
They burnt away every cloud in the sky, reducing each to steam.
In minutes, the shadowy overcast that usually loomed over Sanctuary was gone.
The sky turned an idyllic blue, like that of a lazy summer day.
That was an odd contrast to the thousands of demons walking, crawling, slithering, and flying toward my kingdom.
At first, I thought that, perhaps, the fire magic had melted away the snow on the ground as well because I saw no frozen patches of white, but that wasn’t true.
Abaddon’s forces were so numerous that we couldn’t see the ground beneath their feet.
They were like a steadily approaching sludge blanketing the western side of my kingdom.