Chapter 351: Peace (2)

“Oh, so at last, I am going to visit Heaven,” Ketal said, and delight kindled in his eyes. Since the Demon King fell, he had suspected an invitation would arrive from above. He had wondered when it would come. The answer presented itself sooner than he expected.

“They said they have no strength to descend, but they can invite you to Heaven and receive you there,” Helia said.

“How am I to go?” Ketal mused. “Should I fly to that high vault myself?”

“There is no need. Everything is already prepared.”

Helia spoke as if she were announcing a simple errand. She bore the godblood. She alone on the Mortal Realm carried a god’s blood in her. With that divinity, she could fashion a path that led to Heaven.

It was an act every priest would have called blasphemy, and in any other time, no one would have dared attempt it. No one alive had the right to set a mortal foot in that realm.

“For you, there will be no problem,” she said.

Ketal had endured the Hall of the Gods pouring their power into him and still stood unbroken. No trouble awaited a man like that in Heaven. Helia met his gaze.

“What will you do?” she asked him.

“Do you really not know my answer?” Ketal asked back.

She shook her head as if chiding herself. “Sorry, that was foolish of me.”

His eyes gleamed with a boyish light, pure and unwavering, leaving no room for refusal. She exhaled softly, almost amused at herself for asking what had already been decided, and inclined her head in quiet acceptance.

“Then I will make the final arrangements. Give me a moment.”

“Understood,” Ketal said, and stepped back with a low, cheerful laugh.

Serena, who had listened quietly beside him, spoke under her breath. “So you will go to Heaven. That is the road before you.”

“Yes. Will you come along?”

“No.” Serena jerked her head so firmly it bordered on panic. “I like where I am. I have no wish to step into Heaven and be seized by gods who decide to reclaim me.”

“I doubt they would do that,” Ketal said, “but do what pleases you.”

A short while later, Helia called to him. Together they walked into the holy land’s biggest church.

“From here, I will send you up,” she said.

“This is another god’s church,” Ketal said. “You are the Sun God’s Saintess. Will it be permitted?”

“The gods are not so petty,” Helia answered. She knelt and folded her hands. “Prepare yourself.”

Ketal nodded once. “Understood.”

Helia began to pray. A pure tone rose, a long, high ring, and holy power gathered. The workers outside, who had been restoring the holy land’s halls and roofs, paused with tools in hand. The sacred presence was so strong that a child could have pointed to it. It took shape, substance upon light, and wrapped around Ketal like a column of clear fire.

“A road that runs to Heaven will open. A being of the Mortal Realm will ascend upon it,” Helia said softly.

At her voice, the holy power became a pillar and drove through the nave’s ceiling. It climbed like a spear of day toward the far vault, the distant height mortals call the sky.

The ringing swelled, sharp and piercing, until the sky itself split apart. Beyond the breach stretched a realm that did not belong to the same order of existence as the earth, a place higher and far removed from mortal reach.

“Oh,” someone breathed.

Those who lived under the sky understood it in the marrow. That was Heaven. Their bodies answered before thought, and they bowed from the waist, then lower, until foreheads met stone. They performed the posture the world had taught them for ages, the posture of absolute reverence directed toward the gods.

Ketal chuckled and looked up without blinking. “A sight I have not seen in some time.”

Helia, a little pale, spoke through a breath. “I told you I would send you up, but my strength cannot carry you that far. The rest is yours.”

“Understood.”

Ketal planted his foot, and the floor groaned beneath him, the stone twisting under his weight. In the next instant, he drove off with a sharp kick, propelling himself forward like a released storm.

The church they had so carefully repaired came apart in a single breath. Dust shuddered into light. Ketal climbed the pillar of divinity like a mountain path, bounding from brightness to brightness, and sped toward the ragged mouth he had torn in the sky. When he reached the breach, he caught hold of its edge as if it were a ledge of rock.

He hurled himself into the widening seam, his body cutting through the blinding light. When the ascent finally ended, Ketal emerged into a realm beyond mortal measure. He stood where the great gods resided. He stood in Heaven.

“So this is Heaven,” he said, and wonder ran across his face.

Space here felt set apart, refracted and layered until it resembled a world sheathed in mirrors. Forms like clouds made the air shine, and still vision remained crisp, as if clarity itself had taken a physical shape and stood beside him. All things glittered, yet it felt as if nothing glittered. Light and rainbows braided into confusion, and even so, every contour was distinct.

“Magnificent,” he said.

Words could not hold the place exactly. Hell had been a lesser echo of the White Snowfield. However, Heaven was another category entirely. One thing he could say for certain.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his voice quiet with awe. He liked what he saw—more than he could have ever imagined. As he took in the sight, letting its brilliance wash over him, a voice reached his ears.

“So that is your impression of Heaven.”

“You dwell here,” Ketal said. “You have been keeping this view to yourselves. I find that selfish.”

“I have not heard it called that...,” the voice snorted. “The Abomination that lives in you called this place gaudy noise. It said Heaven glittered so crudely it offended it.”

“It is vulgar. It is shallow. It reeks of cheap shine. If a place like this is not called gaudy, what word would do?” Abomination sneered. Ketal

Ketal smiled and turned his gaze toward the source of the voice. His eyes gleamed as they met the radiance before him. Heaven itself was brilliant, yet the light that now filled his vision eclipsed all others, overwhelming everything in its presence. It was not merely like a sun—it was one in truth. To look upon it directly was to risk blindness, and the very sense of its being pressed down upon the world like an immense and silent weight.

However, none of that mattered to Ketal.

“You can guess who I am,” the voice said.

“I can,” Ketal said, delighted. “It is good to meet you, Sun God.”

***

The great and mighty Sun God stood before him. Among all deities upon the Mortal Realm, none possessed greater renown or authority. Though Ketal and the Sun God had crossed paths more than once before, the voice that greeted him now held the warmth and ease of an introduction spoken for the very first time.

“This is not the first time we have met,” the Sun God said.

Ketal paused, then nodded. “That is true.”

The Sun God had first confirmed Ketal’s existence through the Barcan Estate. Borrowing Aquaz’s eyes as a vessel, the deity had looked upon him directly. In that moment, the Sun God became the first among all divinities in this world to truly behold Ketal. Back then, what they had felt toward him had been confusion and alarm.

“I considered it then. I weighed whether to kill you. I thought about sealing you and locking you away so you could never touch this world again,” the Sun God said.

“I see,” Ketal said.

“But after long thought, I did nothing. You behaved as if you wore a human shape for its own sake. So I decided to watch.”

“And how does that choice sit with you now?” Ketal said, smiling as if he were asking about the weather.

“I am glad I chose to watch. Since I was born, it stands as the finest decision I have made.”

“Then I thank you for saying so.”

“I came to you to offer thanks. You helped my children. As a god, I should pay respect.” They stepped back as they spoke, as if their message were a gift handed over on open palms. “That is all I came to say. The rest belongs to Kalosia. I will rely on you again.”

“Thank you,” Ketal answered lightly.

The Sun God’s presence receded like a tide, and another presence drew near, familiar in the way old roads feel familiar beneath the boots.

“You have come.”

“It is good to see you,” Ketal said. “So it is you again. I am assuming the other gods didn’t want to come?”

“A crowd would only cloud things. I have spoken with you the most, so I am the one who speaks for Heaven,” Kalosia replied.

“I see.”

Ketal clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. He had thought he would meet a host of gods. To learn otherwise tightened a small knot of regret that even he could not pretend away.

“In truth, the others are foisting it on me,” Kalosia said

“Foisting?” Ketal repeated.

“They are uncertain how to approach what you are. If you were a typical Oldest One, they would cast you out, seal you, and throw you into the Demon Realm. But you are not that.”

“So they turn to the one who talks with me most,” Ketal said.

“I will collect on this debt at a premium,” Kalosia said, chuckling.

Ketal laughed with them, then let his eyes wander across the resplendent expanse. “So this is Heaven.”

“You called it beautiful. From where we stand, it is not much. It blazes with glare and holds nothing else.”

“Are there no beings like angels?” Ketal asked them.

“Once there were,” Kalosia said. “They died in the old Divine-Demonic War. Only the gods remain here.”

“How do you take your meals, then?” Ketal said.

“We do not. Our work is to watch our children.”

Ketal blinked, a rare flash of surprise. That meant the gods did nothing beyond keeping their eyes upon the world and tending to what touched their charge.

“You are devoted,” he said.

“That is the reason we exist in this world.” Kalosia’s tone held neither pride nor complaint. It sounded like a law read aloud. “We keep the Mortal Realm. We hold the order. We exclude demonic will. No more. No less.”

The gods were near to principles given will. They held their sense of duty in a grip that did not tire. They existed in Heaven and would exist there for as long as eternity meant anything.

“For this, all of us owe you thanks,” Kalosia said. Without Ketal, they would have failed their task. “I told them to come thank you themselves. None moved except the Sun God. The ones who know you said they would thank you later in their own way. They are unpleasant that way.”

“They are shy,” Ketal said with a snort of amusement. “What will you do next?”

“We must regain our strength.”

They had spent themselves to shield the world and to pour power into Ketal. They would need to recover what was lost.

“When our strength is enough, we will seal Hell that sank into the Mortal Realm. I expect no trouble.”

The Demon King was dead. The Demon Lords had fallen with him. The ranked demons were gone as well, their power extinguished one after another. Only a few named demons remained, their strength barely touching the level of a Transcendent. Such remnants could never stand against the gods.

“Will you not exterminate them?” Ketal said, tilting his head.

“I would prefer it, but we cannot. Together with us, they comprise the order of the world.”

“Order?” Ketal asked them.

Kalosia began to explain. “Heaven and Hell were born as equals when the order of the universe settled into place. Each governs its concepts and its share of order. Either side can be weakened without limit, but neither side can be erased.”

𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

“If darkness did not exist, light would not exist either,” Ketal said. “Am I getting it right?”

“Close enough. If the Demon King had won the war, they would not have annihilated us either. They would have left a god or two.”

Weakening was always possible. As long as a speck remained, the balance held. With that in mind, the gods intended to use this moment to push Hell to the border of extinction and leave it there.

“If time as long as the span since the universe first woke were to pass again, Hell would still manage nothing. I call that an excellent outcome.” Kalosia spoke with quiet pleasure, then paused as a different thought rose. “As I said, gods and demonic will were born together once order existed. Erasing either is forbidden. Yet there are things that are not either.”

There existed beings that contributed nothing to the order of the world—creatures that had emerged before order itself had ever taken shape.

Ketal’s expression said he understood. “You mean the Demon Realms.”

“Yes.”

The Demon Realms held the Oldest Ones. They had been born before order, so they offered the current universe nothing and damaged it whenever they touched it.

“Those must go. Their existence must be erased from this world. In the far past, we joined our strength to cast them out.” Kalosia began their explanation.