Chapter 690: [Blood Moon War] [34] Edward VS Caerus

Lisandra and Sylvia stood frozen, their eyes locked on Edward’s figure. Neither of them could find the words to speak.

There was something different about him—something so heavy, so suffocating—that even breathing felt like an effort. The pressure rolling off his body wasn’t simply overwhelming; it was terrifying. And though they couldn’t fully see what lingered beside him, the faint silhouette of a woman’s form appeared in the corner of their vision. Just a glimpse of her cascading pitch-black hair was enough to make the hairs on their necks rise and their skin prickle with goosebumps.

They were Demigods, beings who stood above the masses and wielded power most could never dream of in this world. Yet here they were, trembling as if reduced to powerless mortals.

"What’s... happening to him?" Lisandra whispered, her voice breaking the silence as she turned toward Amael.

But the expression on his face made her heart tighten. She had never seen him like this before—not calm, not calculating, but visibly uneasy.

Nearly panicked.

Unlike the others, Amael could see her clearly. Nemesis. Even from a distance, her presence was like staring directly into the abyss. It wasn’t something he could easily describe—it was fear that bypassed reason and settled straight into the bones.

For as long as he lived, Amael had only ever heard about the Princesses of Khaos in hushed stories and ancient warnings. They were legends, cautionary tales, whispered to remind one of the line between gods and the untouchable. But now, seeing one with his own eyes, he finally understood why his father had always warned him: never draw close to them.

Nemesis wasn’t even in her full form, not truly. She wasn’t manifesting a physical body, merely a shadow, a fraction of herself. And still, her presence alone pressed down like the weight of worlds.

"How... can such beings even exist?" Amael muttered under his breath, disbelief lacing his words.

His father, after all, was no ordinary figure—he was a Guardian of Eden. Yet even he had never radiated this much pressure. Compared to Nemesis, even his father seemed almost... small.

Now Amael understood. He finally grasped the meaning of being born as a direct offspring of Khaos and Ymir. These weren’t just powerful beings—they were calamities given form.

And Edward...

Edward was with her.

Did he truly have two Khaos Princesses inside of him all this time? Whether through some Legacy or something else entirely, Amael could not fathom how Edward’s body hadn’t shattered under the sheer burden of it.

And perhaps the bigger question—how in the world could two Khaos Princesses even exist within the same vessel? From everything Amael knew, the daughters of Khaos didn’t share kind relations. They were sisters in blood, yes, but that bond did nothing to soften the hostility between them.

It reminded him, in some twisted way, of the Kings of Ymir. The difference, however, was that Ymir’s lineage had Eden to balance them, a supreme figure to keep their ambitions in check. The Gods rallied behind Eden, and from that came a fragile sense of order. But the Princesses of Khaos... they were chaos embodied. Volatile. Uncontrollable. Not even Eden himself dared to interfere directly in their disputes.

Amael had seen firsthand—or at least heard through his father’s accounts—what entanglements with the Khaos Princesses could bring. Elysia, Nemesis, Harivel... each encounter had ended in disaster for Eden, a tide of trouble no one could contain. Only Raphiel had been obedient. For the others? The wiser path was to leave them alone, to pray they never turned their gaze toward you.

And yet, here was Edward.

Standing with Nemesis.

Bound to her.

Amael’s chest tightened with unease. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of dangerous game his father was playing. This wasn’t something that could be controlled. No one could control a being like her.

During Samael’s Insurgence in the Age of Gods, did his father really fight someone like Nemesis?

Now it finally made sense why Nihil desired Edward’s death.

Nemesis couldn’t be left alone within a Vessel of Samael.

"Amael!" Lisandra’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly.

He blinked and looked back at her, meeting her worried eyes.

"What’s happening to him?" She asked, confused.

Amael’s gaze shifted briefly to Edward before returning to her. "Whatever you do, don’t approach him. Do you hear me?"

The fear wasn’t for Edward. It was for them. Nemesis’s presence wasn’t something they could brush off, and even though she was only manifesting through her Legacy Form, she had more than enough power to erase them in an instant.

Amael suspected she wouldn’t do it—not directly. He was still the vessel of Samael, after all. Killing him outright would provoke Nihil himself, forcing his hand and dragging everything into a darker, bloodier conflict. For all her malice, Nemesis wouldn’t risk harming the vessel of her beloved. Even more when he had two Sins.

At least... Amael hoped she wouldn’t.

Edward raised his gaze once more, his eyes sharpening with a focus that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Across from him, Caerus had lost that arrogant composure he carried earlier. The confidence, the smirk, the ease—it was all gone. His expression now was taut with caution, his posture wary.

Yet, despite the fear prickling at his skin, there was no longer doubt in his mind. The figure standing before him could only be Edward, and the woman at his side—her mere shadow enough to chill his soul—could only be Nemesis.

He couldn’t believe that she was sister to Raphiel.

They looked completely opposite.

Meanwhile, supported by Nemesis, Edward’s gaze locked on Caerus.

’What’s... happening to me?’

He thought, startled by the changes within himself. His breath came out unsteady, not from exhaustion but from the strange rush flooding his veins.

His body felt light—almost too light—yet brimming with vitality. Wrath’s aura coiled around him like a second skin, intoxicating and fierce, while the scythe in his hands pulsed with a power both foreign and familiar. He knew it belonged to Nemesis, the weapon itself an extension of her being. Yet when his fingers curled around its dark shaft, a wave of nostalgia swept through him. It was as though he had held it once before in some distant memory, half-forgotten and buried.

At the same time, he felt oddly detached, as if he were caught between waking and dreaming. His senses sharpened, but his thoughts were hazy, like half of him was only half-awake.

Still, whatever this state was, he would use it. If it meant striking Caerus down before the man could kill him, then so be it.

He moved—lightly, instinctively—and in the blink of an eye, the ground beneath him vanished. Suddenly, he was there, standing right in front of Caerus.

Even Edward startled at his own speed.

Caerus’s eyes widened in shock, but his reflexes were sharp, honed by countless battles. His sword swung up in a desperate arc, faster than most could see.

But Edward didn’t think. His body acted. The scythe rose, meeting the blade.

The sound of impact never came. Instead, the sword shattered—splintering into fragments like fragile glass.

"W–What?!" Caerus staggered back, disbelief etched across his face. But Edward was already moving again. His scythe swung in a dark arc, its momentum unstoppable.

Edward’s body moved on its own, every step, every swing feeling less like conscious effort and more like instinct driving his limbs.

The scythe’s tip carved across Caerus’s chest, tearing through flesh with frightening ease.

"Arghhh!" Caerus let out a strangled cry as blood erupted from the wound. But that wasn’t all—the blade pulled something more from him, something not of flesh. A bluish glow, like the essence of his being, was drawn from his body and devoured by the scythe in Edward’s grip.

Caerus’s eyes widened in horror as he staggered backward, his body crashing to the ground. His skin turned pale, his breath shallow, though the wound on his chest began to knit itself back together. Even as his body tried to heal, he could feel it—something vital was gone, drained, stolen from him.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Edward was already descending upon him once more, scythe raised high.

Caerus’s heart pounded. That weapon—whatever it was—was no ordinary relic. He recognized the danger immediately. First, Edward had wielded Trinity Nihil, one of the most powerful Divine Weapons in existence. And now... this. A weapon that radiated a presence no less terrifying than Trinity Nihil itself.

’Why does he have two...?’

Caerus’s thoughts spiraled. Why would his father send him here against someone like this? Did he know Edward was this dangerous and still send him, as Edward had claimed, only to act as a spy?

No... no, that couldn’t be. His father would never send him to die. If he had been sent here, it was because his father trusted in his strength, believed him capable of handling this threat.

Caerus clenched his teeth, shaking the doubts from his mind.

But then his eyes caught the motion of Edward’s next swing—death bearing down upon him—and panic clawed at his chest. He braced himself to evade, his body ready to leap aside...

And then Edward stopped.

The scythe, mid-swing, froze in the air.

"Hm?" Caerus’s brow furrowed in confusion. He turned his gaze and spotted them—Sylvia, Lisandra, and Amael, standing on the ground nearby, their faces painted with concern as they stared upward.

{Kill him, Samael.}

Nemesis’s voice whispered into Edward’s mind.

His grip on the scythe tightened until his knuckles whitened, his muscles trembling with the effort to resist. The weapon pulled against him, yearning to finish the strike, but Edward gritted his teeth, forcing it to halt mid-motion.

If he swung, if he let Nemesis have her way, Sylvia and Lisandra would be caught in the attack. He couldn’t allow that. Not them. Not now. No matter what harsh words he had spoken to them, something deep inside—something unconscious—refused to let them be harmed.

Nemesis, of course, couldn’t care less. To her, they were insects, distractions at best. If she ever truly realized the depth of Edward’s feelings for them, he feared she might deal with them herself just to sever his attachments.

"I said... no," Edward groaned, his arm trembling as he held the scythe back, defying her will.

"Mortals are truly stupid," Caerus’s voice rang out right after. He had reappeared at Edward’s side, blade fragments replaced by a dagger, ready to strike.

Edward’s instincts flared, and before the blade could reach his chest, his hand shot up.

The sound was sharp. Flesh meeting steel—yet it wasn’t Edward’s flesh alone. His arm, wreathed in a veil of Wrath, caught the edge of Caerus’s weapon mid-strike. Sparks burst where the two forces met.

For a heartbeat, they held there. But Edward’s Wrath was weak compared to a weapon forged by Gods. He gritted his teeth as the blade cut through his palm and drew a trail of blood.

Caerus narrowed his eyes.

"So you can block it... barely."

"Sin of Wrath."

Edward didn’t bother entertaining him further.

Caerus’s eyes widened, recognition flickering too late across his face.

-BOOOOM!

The world split open in a purple glow. A shockwave erupted around Edward in a five-meter radius, like a sphere of lightning shards bursting outward all at once. It wasn’t just energy—it was raw willpower, Wrath’s domain flooding into existence. Particles shimmered like purple sparks, streaking the sky, tearing through the air with violent authority.

Caerus didn’t even have time to brace. The force slammed into him with crushing violence, blasting him backward. Blood spurted from his mouth as his body skidded through the open sky, tumbling uncontrollably before he finally dug his blade into the air’s very fabric, forcing himself to a halt. His chest heaved, his body trembled violently, and his eyes darted toward Edward in shock and disbelief.

"Look."

The single word slipped from Edward’s lips.

Caerus hesitated, then raised his gaze.

And immediately regretted it.

One of Edward’s eyes had shifted, no longer human. Abyssal blue burned within it, a depthless color that seemed to swallow the world whole. It wasn’t just sight—it was a devouring will. The moment Caerus looked into it, something inside him broke. His limbs stiffened. His breath caught. His very will was ensnared, shackled. His body no longer obeyed him.

He froze, locked in place, every fiber of his being screaming yet unable to respond.

Edward could feel Nemesis behind him—could almost see her lips curling into a twisted smile, stretching ear to ear. She was delighted, savoring his surrender to her power, the way her essence flowed into him more with every passing moment. But Edward forced his focus back to the trembling figure before him.

He lifted the scythe, both hands gripping it tightly.

"W–wait..." Caerus’s voice broke from his throat, thin and strained.

It couldn’t end like this. It shouldn’t.

He was no mere mortal. He was born of Zeus! His blood carried divinity, power that set him above humans. He was a god—not in fullness, not yet, but the blood of Zeus flowed in his veins. To die here, to fall at the hands of a human? Unthinkable. Impossible.

It had to be impossible.

But Edward’s gaze was merciless. His grip on the scythe was steady.

"You should be prepared to die when you try to kill someone." He said coldly.

Then he swung.

-BOOOOM!

The scythe carved through the air in a horizontal arc, its swing tearing the sky itself apart. The shockwave thundered outward, a dark ripple that cut through existence like paper.

Caerus’s body didn’t stand a chance.

His form was severed cleanly in two, bisected from the chest outward. Blood scattered like crimson mist across the shattered sky. His eyes widened one final time, then dulled, the light vanishing from within them.

But it wasn’t just flesh that was claimed.

The scythe drank deep. His soul, his very essence, was ripped from his body, pulled screaming into the abyssal blade. The weapon pulsed as it fed, its hunger sated only by devouring him whole.

"U–Uarghhhh!!!!" His last agonizing scream escaping the lips of the dead body terrified everyone around.