---
The Seraph floated above the ruined village, its six wings outstretched — not feathers, but scripture: burning pages of divine law fluttering like flames. Each line of glowing gold pulsed with one purpose:
> Erasure.
Paul stood unmoving, wind wrapping around his robes like a storm waiting for command. Beside him, Lyra trembled — not from fear, but awe. He had not raised a weapon. Had not summoned flame. Not yet.
The Seraph pointed its greatsword down at Paul.
> "Your presence fractures reality.
The gods declared your death sacred.
Your name is forbidden.
Your soul — outlawed."
Paul smirked, black eyes narrowing.
> "Then the gods should've aimed better."
---
The Seraph moved first — a golden streak splitting the air.
It crashed down in a flash, its blade trailing scripture that burned the clouds apart. Mana shockwaves ripped the earth open.
Paul didn't dodge.
He caught the blade with his bare hand.
The sword hissed, trembling in his grip.
The Seraph gasped.
> "Impossible—"
Paul's voice dropped an octave. Not shouting. Not angry.
Just… certain.
> "You think light can erase darkness?
You've never met me."
He clenched his fist — and the divine blade shattered into glowing shards, spinning into the wind like dead leaves.
---
From above, the Seraph's wings flared, casting spears of burning law toward him. Dozens. Hundreds. A celestial storm.
Paul raised both arms, and the sky answered.
Lightning twisted from the clouds. Fire rose from cracks in the earth. The ground exploded in ice. All four elements responded like loyal soldiers.
He spun once — and unleashed a mana vortex, absorbing every divine weapon into a swirl of chaos and wind.
The battlefield became a storm of color and silence.
When it cleared…
Paul stood untouched.
---
The Seraph screamed.
> "You cannot exist!"
Paul took one step forward. The snow turned black.
Another step. Time distorted.
He whispered — to the air, to the sky, to whatever god still dared to listen.
> "I didn't ask to exist."
He raised his hand.
A black glyph formed behind him — ancient, unreadable, shaped like a broken crown.
The world seemed to lean back in fear.
> "But now that I do…"
Paul's body lit with power. His voice echoed, deeper than thunder, louder than prophecy.
> "I. AM. OBLIVION."
---
And the Seraph vanished.
Not burned.
Not killed.
Unmade.
Its body crumbled like old dust. Its halo shattered. Its wings turned to torn pages, each one whispering a dying prayer as it scattered into the void.
Only silence remained.
Paul stood at the center of a crater — his aura rippling across the land like waves. The ruins behind him were frozen in time, untouched. Lyra stared with wide eyes, mouth parted in awe.
> "What… what are you?"
Paul turned slightly, his voice calm again.
> "I'm the reason the gods sleep with swords beside their thrones."
---
In the heavens, a thousand bells rang at once.
The Seraph's death had awakened something far worse.
A god opened its eye.
And whispered Paul's name.
---
[End of Chapter Six]
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