"Just speak what you want," Celestia reminded, her tone carrying both warm and warning. "The Holy Promise will make it absolute. Whatever you decree will be etched into every scripture of the Church of Light. It will not remain a word spoken it will become divine law itself."
Razeal barely listened or even need her to explain. He already knew how this ancient oath worked as he had seen it used in the original novel once before ofcourse, and the memory was enough.
His eyes swept over the coliseum. Tens of thousands of gazes bore down on him, filled with open scorn and whispered hatred. Even now, though he stood with the Holy Promise in his hand, they looked at him as if he were filth criminal.
And in answer, he only smirked back at them as if to say: Fuck you all.
He raised the glowing parchment high, its radiant script spilling golden light across his face. And with no hesitation, he spoke.
"By the Holy Promise," Razealâs voice rang out, sharp and cold, echoing through the coliseum, "I make a new law. Anyone who dares call me a rapist I will kill them. The only thing I demand is this: the Church of Light will not interfere when I do so."
A ripple of silence cut through the air like a blade.
"If your God is true," his smirk widened, venom in every word, "then your Church will respect this holy order. But if your god is nothing more than a fake, a hollow fraud shithole, then youâre welcome to defy it. I wonât complain. But donât expect me to show mercy."
The parchment glowed brighter in his hand as the oath solidified.
"I wonât stop anyone from speaking what they want. Say it. Whisper it. Shout it. You are welcome. But remember if I catch you, I will kill you. Old, young, man, woman, priest, knight it wonât matter. Your corpse will be the proof of my promise. So if you have the guts to insult me, then donât whisper like cowards behind my back." His voice rose, cutting through the silence like thunder. "Say it to my face. I dare you."
As his final words left his lips, the parchment burst into fragments of golden light. The shards drifted upward, dissolving into the air, vanishing as if absorbed into the heavens themselves. And then
A weight crashed into every believer present.
The decree was carved into their souls. They could feel it. His words.. his threat were now law, etched into every holy scripture, every divine tablet, every sacred relic across the Church of Light. None could deny it. None could erase it. Unless ofcourse defying holy promise.
Razealâs smirk lingered as the last golden particle vanished.
From the side, Celestia studied his sode face. Her platinum eyes flashed with something almost uncharacteristic: amusement. She had expected him to use the Holy Promise to clear his name outright. To forbid the very word rapist from being spoken. To use divine authority as a shield.
But instead, he had done something entirely different.
He hadnât silenced them or just begged for forgiveness. He hadnât hidden behind the God of Lightâs authority.
He had dared them to call him what they pleased and staked his response on fear, blood, and his own strength.
Celestiaâs lips tugged upward ever so slightly. Heâs not solving the problem. But... heâs making it his own. And for that, she could not help but be impressed. Heâs... somewhat like me, she thought, entertained.
From further back, Novaâs lips split into a grin of her own. Her earlier fury had cooled, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of recognition. I misjudged you again, little brother. But I canât hate it. Thatâs... exactly how a Virelan should act.
Marcella, ever the calm mask, adjusted her glasses with a faint gleam of approval in her eyes.
Merisa, however, only pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Why," she muttered under her breath, "are all my children like this?" First Nova, now Razeal both reckless, both arrogant, both utterly unresonably stupid to core. And yet, despite herself, a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
Arabellaâs expression twisted. What an absolute idiot. Of all the infinite ways he could have used the Holy Promise, this was what he chose? Not protection. Not absolution or power. A childish threat dressed in divine law. Is this what inbreeding does to their brains? No wonder the Virelans are insane. She shook her head, disgust curling her lips. Genes defeated before they even start.
The dukes said nothing. To them, this was beneath notice. A boyâs arrogance, nothing more. They had seen empire rise and fuck itself over and over again; one youthâs declaration was a ripple, not a tide.
But among the spectators the commoners, the knights, the lesser nobles the reaction was immediate and chaotic.
"What is this?!" one man barked, outrage in his voice. "Now we canât even call rapists what they are?!"
"Are we supposed to call them then? saints?" another spat, fury boiling over.
Believers clenched their fists, their faces pale. They could say nothing the law was sealed in their souls. To speak against it would be to defy the very God they worshipped. But the unbelievers? They sneered openly, spitting on the ground.
"This is madness!" one woman shouted. "Holy Promise or not, no parchment can erase truth!"
And so, though hatred twisted their faces, they swallowed it.
They had just said it. When
"I warned you all."
A cold smile spread across Razealâs lips as he slowly clenched his left hand still raised into a fist.
And then
Crunch.
The sound tore through the silence, and shadows rippled like liquid under the feet of those foolish enough to whisper the forbidden word. A heartbeat later, the ground beneath them convulsed. From the black pools of their own shadows, dozens of jagged spikes erupted upward.
The screams never had the chance to escape their throats.
The spikes impaled them in an instant through bellies, through lungs, straight through hearts and necks. Flesh burst. Bones shattered. Blood geysered in arcs across the seats, spraying anyone unlucky enough to sit too close.
When the shrieks finally came, they werenât from the impaled they were from the survivors sitting nearby, scrambling away in horror as the victims were lifted off their feet like grotesque ornaments on black pikes. Men, women, young and old all left hanging like bloody trophies, bodies twitching, mouths frozen in soundless agony.
The metallic stench of blood flooded the arena.
[See, Itâs good I saved you 100,000 mana for emergencies. Just in case things turned ugly,] the Systemâs calm, detached voice rang in Razealâs mind. [And look it came to use. You should praise me now.]
Of course, thatâs what youâre supposed to do. Itâs your job. Well done youâre finally coming to some use, Razeal replied in his head.
And as for what he did just now. Never mind... there were no psychological emotions left in him after killing tens of people in the blink of an eye.
He had killed many before not just people, but millions of different creatures across system space. Some were even humanoid, like that beautiful woman, an A-ranked opponent he had slain countless times in countless ways.
So this?
Tenâs of corpses skewered in front of the empireâs greatest? It was nothing.
If anything, the way the crowd recoiled, the way their faces twisted in revulsion and fear, made him want to laugh.
He stretched out his only remaining arm, blood mist still drifting in the air, and his voice rang through the coliseum without the aid of spells, carried by sheer will.
"I told you all. Anyone can say whatever they want about me. That hasnât changed. But from now on, there will be consequences."
His eyes cold without any emotions whatsoever.
"And it wonât be just the weak who pay. Even those stronger than me if you dare to spit on me or dare to call me what I am not.. I promise you will suffer the same fate. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I never forget a face. And I never forgive."
He lifted his chin, his expression sharpened into something cruel, something unyielding.
"Everyone who wrongs me will pay. Many already have and many remaining. But the list is long, and I welcome more names. So go on scratch that itch you all have. Try me. And see how far you get."
His words crashed through the arena like waves of iron.
The coliseum went utterly silent.
The coliseum was silent. Every eye fixed on his face, every expression twisted with fury. Hate and revulsion radiated from the crowd even from those who once ignored him, considering him beneath their notice, already punished enough. Now, just because of his words, His very defiance felt like a personal challenge to their dignity. You donât dare. Thatâs what his words said.
Their rage burned, but they restrained themselves. None spoke. The weaker ones, who had already witnessed his strength, knew well enough that crossing him meant death. Yet even the strong, the confident ones who believed they could kill him, stayed their hands. Why
Because they all knew: to challenge him now was to make an enemy forever. And Razealâs words werenât empty. He would hunt them down, whether it took days or years.
And above all, they saw something that made them hesitate even more.
The dukes.
Maximus Luminus. Seraphina Faerelith. Arabella Dragonwevr. None of them moved. None of them reprimanded him. Not even Celestia, the Imperial Princess, spoke against his actions.
If those towering figures remained still, why should anyone lesser risk themselves?
And so, though hatred twisted their faces, they swallowed it.
Well, technically speaking, Razeal hadnât broken any law. The Holy Promise had been invoked, and heâd used it exactly as permitted. By the churchâs doctrine, what he did was perfectly legal.
But the thing is the whole world does run on church rules. There is empire too.
And by imperial law? He had just slaughtered citizens of the empire, in open daylight, during a sanctioned duel, under the eyes of dukes, nobles, and even the Imperial Princess herself. That should have been treason of the highest order.
Yet Celestia stood there. She didnât flinch. She didnât punish him. She didnât even acknowledge the blood-soaked bodies still hanging in the arena like grotesque decorations. She simply... looked away.
Her silence was an answer louder than words.
Heâs being favored.
That thought echoed through every mind present. Commoners, priest, warriors, even the nobles themselves all realized it at the same moment. This wasnât justice. This wasnât balance. This was bias, pure and shameless.
And none of them could complain. Not openly atleast not when Celestiaâs authority still pressed faintly over the arena like a weight ready to crush anyone who dared raise their voice.
It was maddening. Unreasonable. But it was reality.
"Let me heal your arm."
Celestiaâs calm words broke the silence as she stepped closer, her eyes falling to Razealâs severed right arm.
Razeal still had that same cocky smile plastered on his face, glaring at the crowd like he was daring them to breathe wrong, but Celestia wasnât focused on his defiance. She wasnât thinking about the wasted Holy Promise either. She was simply watching the way he held his own cut-off arm awkwardly under his right armpit, pointing at the spectators with his left as though mocking them.
He looked ridiculous like that, she thought half bloodied, one-armed, grinning like a lunatic. And yet... he looks kinda fine.
Yeah like He really is kind of crazy, she mused, shaking her head.
Her gaze softened slightly.
She could see he had some powerful healing ability every new wound from the fight was already gone. But his arm hadnât healed. Maybe he wasnât at the level yet where he could restore it himself.
"No need."
Razeal shook his head firmly. He glanced down at the severed arm, then casually let it slip into the shadow beneath his feet. With a ripple of darkness, the limb vanished into his shadow storage.
Holding it around like a trophy was troublesome even for him.
Celestiaâs eyes lifted slightly at that display. The shadows swallowed the limb completely, as though it had never existed. Impressive. But her gaze returned immediately to the empty space below his elbow. She still wanted to heal him.
Villey, Razeal muttered inwardly, why the hell isnât my regeneration working? You told me I could even come back if my whole body was blown apart. Whatâs this bullshit? My armâs gone and nothingâs happening!
[Host, thereâs nothing wrong with your regeneration ability,] the System replied coolly. [The problem is your Obsidian Skeleton (S). It isnât auto-regenerative. Itâs an external structure fused into your body. Because your skeleton isnât repairing itself, the rest of the tissues flesh, veins, nerves cannot regrow. Your body canât complete its form without bone. Simply reattach or repair the skeleton of the arm, and the rest will regenerate normally.]
Razealâs eye twitched. What the fuck?! Nobody told me that grafting an S-grade skeleton into my body would cut off my regeneration! Itâs part of my body now, isnât it? How the hell does that even make sense?!
[Premium products have premium maintenance requirements,] the System replied without shame. [Naturally, such enhancements wonât fix themselves with your "standard" abilities. They require specialized care.]
Razeal exhaled through his nose, forcing himself not to snap aloud in front of the crowd. You couldâve told me this BEFORE I lost an arm, brother Villey.
He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. Wait. You said even if I lose my head, Iâd survive. That I could regrow everything. Was that a lie too?
[Not a lie it would if you had normal bones . But these premium products. If your skull is destroyed, your head wonât regrow. But good news: you can still survive without it... for about ten minutes. Your body can function without a brain in that window. If you donât regenerate your head within those ten minutes, though, youâll die.]
Razealâs lips parted slightly. His mind conjured the absurd image of himself walking around headless, waving at people before keeling over like some grotesque puppet.
Youâre telling me this NOW?! He wanted to grab the System by its non-existent throat. Damn it, if Iâd known earlier
[Consider it a learning opportunity,] the System replied lightly.
Razeal pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, then refocused. Fine. Just tell me how to fix the skeleton. I donât have time to play trial and error with this crap.
[Simple. Retrieve your severed limb. Re-bind the Obsidian Skeletonâs fragments into your structure. Once the skeleton is whole, your regeneration will take care of the rest.
"But how and will I be able to fix it myself? This isnât some cheap metal tâs Obsidian Agony. A genuine SS-ranked unique metal" Razeal muttered in his head, his expression flat though his tone sharp. "You really think I can just weld it back together? Or maybe hammer it into place? Are you seriously that dumb, System?"
[Not quite, host.] The Systemâs voice came with the irritating calmness of someone explaining basic math to a toddler. [Youâll need a professional. Preferably an SSS-ranked craftsman or, better yet, the creator herself Zara. My personal recommendation is to ask her directly. After all, she created this metal; no one knows it better then ber. And long term, you should also learn to control the alloy yourself. You canât run to her every time you break an arm, can you?]
Razealâs lips twitched at the name. That woman? The memory of their last interaction crawled uncomfortably back into his mind.
"Fuck You Crazy Btch!" he had screamed at her with middle finger then and well. The words still echoed.
His chest tightened at the thought. "No chance another smith can do it? Anyone else? Because I really donât like that woman. Last meeting with her was... letâs say âpainful.â You were there, System you know. Right?" Even inside his own mind, his voice trembled slightly.
[I would still personally recommend Zara.] The System didnât hesitate. [Other craftsmen might try, but none of them have experience with this metal itself. Obsidian Agony is unique. Forced experiments could destabilize the skeleton entirely. Side effects may occur mutations, internal collapse, or worse.]
Razeal exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. Figures.
A dull ache of memory pressed against him, but he shook his head violently. "Argh, whatever. Iâll deal with that headache later. For now..." He flexed his remaining hand slightly, feeling the weakness in his body. "...I need to leave. My bodyâs trashed. If I stay here, Iâll collapse sooner or later."
"Alright, I gotta go now," Razeal muttered, his tone light, almost careless. He ignored Celestia still standing before him, the dukes watching from afar, and the countless eyes fixed on him. Without a second glance, he turned his back on them all and started to walk away.
He barely took a single step.
"No. You arenât going anywhere. You are coming with me.. home."
The words cut through the air like a verdict.
An aura descended vast, suffocating, absolute. It slammed into him, crushing down until his body refused to move. All the power he had fought for, every ounce of strength he had clawed out of blood, pain and suffering, was stripped to nothing in an instant. His limbs locked. His breath caught. He could not move even an inch.
Merisaâs eyes flared as she looked at his back, her face unyielding, her will like iron. There was no debate in her gaze, no room for refusal.
This was not a request. It was a command.
They said theyâll take him home today, so that means they will even if it has to be forceful.
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Hey guys! Almost 8k words today so definitely not lazy now, right? Thanks so much for reading đ
Alsooo đđđ„ș could you maybe spare some Golden Tickets? đ€§ Weâre so close to breaking into the Top 20, and who knows... maybe even hit 1,000 Golden Tickets! đ©âš
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