Chapter 1587  Who Took The Sword?

Author's Note: Unedited Chapter

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The other half of the ground trembled beneath them as the sword disappeared, leaving Gustav standing in stunned silence, his outstretched hand still hovering where the sword had been moments before.

Endric stared at the empty space where the sword had been. "It's gone…" he whispered in confusion.

The battlefield fell silent once more, but the tension hung heavy in the air.

Gustav lowered his hand slowly as his eyes flashed with a hint of killing intent. 'Who took it?'

The scene here was one of utter devastation. Half of the world had been destroyed.

What was left of the terrain was pointy broken landscape, dotted with deep craters and gaping fissures that stretched into the distance. Dark clouds of dust and debris still hung in the air, drifting slowly as though time itself had been fractured. The only sound was the faint crackling of energy dissipating into the void.

Gustav hovered in the air with his glowing eyes fixed on the place where the sword had been.

His fists tightened as he replayed the moment in his mind. Just when he was about to take hold of the sword, to claim what was rightfully his, the crack had opened like a tear in reality itself. The sword had been pulled through it before he could react, disappearing into the void.

Around him, the others—Endric, Ria, and Wilendor—stood in stunned silence, each processing the enormity of what had just occurred.

The battle had drained them all, and now they were left with more questions than answers. They had come all this way, fought so hard, and in the end, the sword had slipped through their fingers.

Gustav's voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "The sword… the dark crack… Nocturnis is still sealed. He shouldn't be able to do anything like this unless a premonition is at play."

Endric looked up at his brother, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't know, Gustav. It doesn't make sense." He wiped the sweat from his face, his expression one of exhaustion and uncertainty. "Ria and I have been away for months, searching for the sword. We had no idea anything like this would happen. The Death Angel… the crack… none of it was anticipated."

Ria, who stood a little distance away, shook his head. His voice carried a similar note of concern. "We've been in the farthest reaches of the outer galaxies. We've been so focused on finding the sword that we weren't aware of what was happening elsewhere." He glanced at the empty space where the sword had been, his brow creased. "But this… something about this feels wrong, rival."

Gustav sighed with a slightly disturbed look. He had felt the connection with the sword the moment he'd arrived. It had called out to him, responded to his presence like a long-lost part of his soul.

Besides the fragments, It was the final piece he needed to restore his full power as the Outworldly, but now it was gone. And the fact that a Death Angel—one of Nocturnis's most feared servants—had appeared to stop him only made things worse.

He turned to look at Wilendor, the hulking Tark warrior who had fought valiantly beside them. Being a time candidate like Endric, Wilendor had been the first to locate the sword. He had tracked it down to this strange, distant world and had led Endric and Ria to it after his own attempts to retrieve it had failed.

"Wilendor," Gustav began, his voice steady but laced with urgency, "you were the first to find the sword. Did you see anything before this? Any signs that something like this was going to happen?"

Wilendor, shook his head slowly. His deep, rumbling voice was like a distant thunderstorm. "No, Outworldly," he said, his tone respectful yet firm. "When I found the sword, it was heavily guarded by those beings we fought earlier—the ones that merged into that creature." He gestured to the remnants of the battle, where the spiritual entities had been before fusing into one. "I tried for weeks to retrieve it, but the closer I got, the more it resisted me. At that time I didn't know it needed it's owner."

He paused, his expression hardening. "But there was no sign of a Death Angel. This… this was unexpected."

Gustav's thoughts raced as he processed the information. The sword couldn't be pulled out or wielded by anyone besides himself. It was obvious that they had only interfered because they knew it was a much required key to regaining his full power.

The crack, the Death Angel—these were not part of the natural order of things. Nocturnis was still sealed away, trapped in his dimension and further enforced by the comic webs that Gustav had created long ago.

He shouldn't have been able to affect anything in the mortal plane unless a premonition was ongoing.

"I wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the sword's location without the three of you finding it first," Gustav admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. "But now that it's gone, we need answers. Fast."

Endric rubbed the back of his neck, his mind still trying to wrap itself around the events that had unfolded. "There's… only one being that might have any idea what's going on," he said slowly, his gaze shifting toward the trapped Death Angel.

The creature hung there, pinned by the glowing red cross that Gustav had summoned during the battle. Its hollow, glowing eyes stared out at them with unrelenting malice, and the aura of death that surrounded it seemed to pulse in rhythm with its shallow breaths.

Ria frowned, crossing his arms. "That thing?" He glanced at Endric, then at the others. "That thing only serves Falco's crazy  father. It's not going to tell us anything useful. Besides, it doesn't even speak our language."

Endric nodded grimly. "It speaks the language of the Celestials," he replied. "But that doesn't matter to the Outworldly."

Gustav's eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he floated toward the trapped Death Angel.

The creature, still pinned to the ground by the red cross, twitched slightly, its cracked wings shifting as it watched him approach.

The ash-like skin that covered its body continued to crumble, yet it remained defiant, the hollow voids where its eyes should have been glowing faintly.

Gustav landed softly in front of the creature, his gaze unrelenting. "I don't need it to speak our language," he said, his voice cold and authoritative. He moved closer, his hand outstretched toward the creature's charred face. "I'll get the answers myself."

The Death Angel let out a low, guttural hiss, its hollow mouth opening slightly as it rasped in the ancient language of the Celestials. Though the words were unintelligible to the others, Gustav understood every syllable.

"The Great Nocturnis will return," the Death Angel rasped, its voice echoing like the scraping of bones. "You cannot stop him. His power is eternal, and his time is near. You… are nothing compared to him, Outworldly. You will fall."

Gustav's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint. He wasn't here for its praise of Nocturnis. "I didn't ask for a prophecy," he growled. "I asked where the sword went. Tell me where he took it, or I'll make sure you wish you had."

The Death Angel's hollow eyes glowed brighter for a moment as it let out a dark, mocking laugh. "You think you can stop him?" it sneered. "Praise be to Nocturnis. Nocturnis is eternal. His reach stretches across galaxies, even in his imprisonment. You are nothing but a fragment of what you once were. You will never—"

Before it could finish, Gustav grabbed the creature by the head, his fingers digging into its charred skin with a crushing grip. The Death Angel let out a sharp, hissing breath, but it was powerless to resist.

"I don't need to hear any more of this," Gustav said coldly, his voice as sharp as steel. "I'll get the information myself."

Without another word, Gustav began to siphon the creature's memories, forcing his way into its mind with ruthless efficiency. The Death Angel's body trembled under his touch, its wings twitching as Gustav probed deeper into its consciousness.

The memories were fragmented, chaotic, and shrouded in darkness, but Gustav pushed through the fog, searching for the answers he needed.

Some parts of the Death Angel's mind were blacked out, hidden behind layers of shadow that even Gustav couldn't penetrate. But what he found was enough to make his blood run cold.

Amid the fragmented memories, he saw a figure—a humanoid figure—having a dialogue with the Death Angel on its way here. The memory was hazy, but Gustav could tell that the figure had triggered the event that caused the sword to disappear into the dark crack. A human had somehow manipulated the cosmic forces at play.

Gustav's eyes widened in disbelief as he delved deeper. The situation was worse than he had feared.

 Nocturnis hadn't directly taken the sword. A human had caused this phenomenon, and that raised far more questions than it answered.

But there was more.

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