Chapter 367: Gates of Heavens

Although Aamon felt a quiet satisfaction, a deeper dissatisfaction simmered beneath it, all because of Orien’s actions.Orien had ignored his warnings and chosen to do something utterly insane by opening the path to the Abyss, even after being explicitly told not to even entertain such thoughts. That defiance gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

His gaze settled on the Abyssal Door ahead. Even though the surroundings had completely collapsed and the Central City had vanished beneath layers of shattered earth and debris, the space around the Abyssal Gates remained unnaturally clean.

It was as if the debris itself had avoided that place. Instead of falling upon the gate, everything had collapsed around it, forming a rough yet deliberate platform that led directly toward the door.

Previously, the gate had hovered in mid air, detached from the world beneath it. Now, after the massive destruction of the ground, it rested at a normal level, easily accessible to anyone who dared to approach.

That foolish child of mine should never have summoned these gates. He does not even know what we barely escaped from. He does not understand that his mother’s sacrifice was born solely from her will to protect him...

Yet despite all of that, Orien still chose to act on his own and summon the Abyssal Gates. Aamon could understand Orien’s emotions. After all, Orien had lost his mother, while he himself had lost his wife and lifelong companion.

Her death is tied to the struggle between the Heavenly Realm and the Abyssal Realm, but does he even possess the strength to contend against both...?

Recklessness itself is not a sin, but knowing you are weak and still choosing recklessness is an absolute sin.

Even so, Aamon did not grieve when Orien’s life force vanished. The moment he sensed it fade, he immediately ended his seclusion from comprehending the Rune of Destruction. When he emerged, he was met with unexpected news.

The world barrier of Akumia had cracked.

That single fact filled him with restrained delight. It was why he appeared here so quickly, following the lingering presence of the Angel and the last traces of Orien’s aura.

For Aamon, an immeasurable amount of time had already passed. Time erased almost everything, and only a few things could truly resist its erosion.

Even though he never showed it to Orien, he too harbored the desire for revenge for her death.

However, knowing when to advance and when to retreat was wisdom carved into him by experience. He knew his own weakness, and thus he never allowed himself to dream recklessly or act on blind hatred. Being consumed by a single emotion was nothing but foolishness, and fools were abundant.

But now I possess the Rune of Destruction. With enough time, I can take my revenge...

Still, Aamon’s eyes remained indifferent toward Orien’s apparent death.

His gaze pierced through layers of stone, metal, and debris, fixing itself on Orien’s body buried deep beneath the debris beneath the Abyssal Gates. He was undoubtedly dead, or at least that was what everyone believed.

This son of mine has grown far too daring, trying to fool even me? Hmph...

How could he not know? Orien was merely feigning death through his bloodline ability. Orien carried his blood. Fooling him was impossible.

Even so, Aamon had come here because anyone capable of forcing Orien into such a state was unquestionably powerful.

Still, summoning the Abyssal Gates has crossed the limits of what can be forgiven. After dealing with this Angel, I will punish him thoroughly so that he thinks a thousand times before attempting something this drastic again...

With a cold snort, Aamon turned away from the gates and flew toward the mangled Angel in the distance, his presence pressing down on the ruined land like an approaching calamity.

But if Orien’s consciousness had been active at this moment and he saw Aamon standing there, he would have received the shock of his life.

The last time Orien had seen him, Aamon was a middle aged man. Yet now, the figure before him looked even younger than Orien himself.

And the cause of this butterfly effect was none other than Ash.

In the original course of events recorded in the novel, Aamon had been forced to come out of his seclusion early because of Ray.

Just as the Angels learned about the existence of the Runes through Ray’s words and subsequently brought devastation upon Akumia, Ray had also shared this knowledge with his close companions, his master, and a handful of others even before the Heavenly Realm became aware of it.

And once the cat was out of the bag, there were countless ways for such secrets to spread.

Thus, when Aamon learned that someone was absorbing the Runes he had been searching for, he had no choice but to abandon his comprehension midway and focus all his attention on killing Ray.

But because of Ash, nothing like that ever happened.

Aamon was given time. Precious, uninterrupted time.

During his long comprehension of the Rune, he unknowingly achieved a form of enlightenment related to the universe itself, and his body underwent a silent reformation without him even realizing it.

Landing a short distance away from the Angel, Aamon began to walk forward, his gaze fixed on the bloodied figure embedded deep within the ground.

Each of his steps echoed far and wide in the oppressive silence.

-Step!!!

-Step!!

As the dust slowly settled, the sight before him became clear.

There was a massive hole torn through the Angel’s stomach, yet surprisingly, the Angel was still standing. He was using a sword formed entirely of light as support, his body trembling but unbroken.

However, something about the Angel felt wrong.

Although Aamon could clearly sense fear from the Angel’s body language, there was something else mixed within it, something that did not belong to someone standing on the brink of death.

He is excited? Hmm, unusual....

Aamon’s vigilance rose instantly.

When someone who should be facing death displayed emotions other than fear or despair, it usually meant one of two things. Either they were confident they would not die, or they simply did not care if they did.

Knowing the Angel would never fall into the latter category, Aamon became even more cautious.

That was when he heard the Angel chuckle.

"You have the Rune of Destruction, don’t you." Remiel spoke with a low laugh, his eyes filled with open mockery.

His demeanor was completely unlike that of someone about to die.

Aamon froze.

The moment those words left Remiel’s mouth, Aamon’s expression cracked. His eyes turned frost cold as killing intent surged violently within him, and he was just about to move and annihilate the Angel on the spot when Remiel spoke again.

"It was not difficult to figure out. If any Angel had witnessed the energy you displayed earlier, they would eventually realize that you possess a Rune. And when that happens, the entire Heavenly Realm will be right behind you."

Hearing this, Aamon stopped.

Not because he feared Remiel’s words, but because he wanted to hear more.

He knew very little about the Runes in truth, yet it was clear that the Angels possessed far deeper knowledge on the subject, to the point where they could recognize a Rune simply from the nature of its energy.

Looks like I need to make sure this Angel does not escape. I need to kill him at all costs...

He clenched his fists and lunged toward the Angel without giving him a chance to say anything further. His fists blurred through the air and arrived in front of Remiel’s head in an instant, carrying violent momentum. But this time, Remiel was prepared for such sneak attacks, and he tilted his head just enough to narrowly dodge the incoming strike.

Almost immediately, his hands moved in retaliation.

With a powerful twist of his massive body, Remiel gathered the full strength of his frame and returned a punch straight into the chest of the Demon King.

Aamon was sent flying backward, the force rattling his body, but he managed to regain his balance mid air before crashing too far away. However, before he could launch another attack, his eyes caught sight of something dangerous.

Dozens of aura swords were already flying toward him at terrifying speed.

Aamon was forced to evade, but the aura swords moved as if they possessed their own will, relentlessly adjusting their trajectory to chase him without pause.

Aamon frowned slightly, but instead of retreating further, his fists were once again clad in dense crimson energy as he punched forward.

The aura swords shattered upon impact, breaking apart like fragile glass.

His eyes glowed with delight.

This was the first time Aamon had used destruction energy in battle, and with every exchange, he was discovering new ways to wield it. Seeing that his fists could easily destroy even such powerful aura swords filled him with excitement, while at the same time sharpening his sense of danger.

He lunged forward and destroyed the remaining swords one by one, each strike precise and decisive. When the final sword shattered into fragments of light, he straightened up and smiled, his gaze shifting toward the Angel standing in the distance.

Throughout the entire exchange, a portion of his focus had remained locked onto Remiel, carefully watching for any sudden sneak attack. Yet the Angel had done nothing at all, simply standing in place, unmoving.

But the moment Aamon truly looked at the Angel again, the smile on his face froze.

There stood Remiel, staring at him with a crazed smile that did not belong on the face of an Angel. His eyes shone unnaturally bright, almost feverish, as his lips kept moving while he muttered something under his breath.

Earlier, Aamon had not paid much attention to the words coming out of the Angel’s mouth. His focus had been entirely on Remiel’s movements, watching closely for any sudden approach or a hidden attack forming in the silence.

But now, he listened.

This time, he focused completely.

The first part of Remiel’s murmuring flowed in an unknown language, foreign and heavy, carrying a strange weight that made Aamon’s instincts scream in warning. The words felt ancient, layered with authority. Yet the final part was spoken clearly, almost deliberately, as if Remiel wanted him to hear it.

As if he wanted him to understand it.

"""""....#@!!@@#& me O will of Heavens,

By the oath etched into existence itself,

By the blessing of fate and destiny itself,

By the divine authority of Supreme who rules the Heavens...

I, Battle Angel Remiel of the Heavenly Realm,

stake my life, my origin, and my eternal return.

In the name of the All Father,

I summon the Gates of the Heavens.""""""

The moment the last word left Remiel’s lips, the world reacted.

-BOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The sky roared as if it had been torn apart, and an overwhelming force descended from above, crushing the surroundings under its weight.