The Thirteenth Heaven was not meant to be reached.
Forged in the mythic cycle before cycles were counted, it floated far above the lesser heavens like an untouched wound in the sky—a domain of pure divinity, where laws were not followed but written.
And Kael Vanthelmir walked into it like a trespasser in a temple that had long forgotten why it was sacred.
The stairs he ascended were not made of stone, but congealed divinity, solidified screams of gods who had died in rebellion. Each step forward was a rejection of the universe's hierarchy—an act of defiance carved into every motion of his hollow gait.
At the gate stood the First Sentinel, a being with a thousand wings and a single mirrored face. Upon that mirror were reflected all of Kael's sins, past and future alike.
> "You are unsanctioned," it said, without voice.
> "I am remembered," Kael answered.
With a gesture, he invoked the Tongue of Ruin's Third Syllable—Aeyurn'veth, the Word of Severance.
The Sentinel cracked. Not its body, but its concept of existence.
Its wings folded inward. Its mirror face shattered, showing no reflection at all.
It did not fall.
It ceased.
Kael stepped through the gate.
And entered the Court of Screaming Light.
---
⟢ The Court of Screaming Light
Columns of crystalized laws rose into an endless heaven. Statues of forgotten celestials watched with blind scorn. A thousand deified bureaucrats knelt before a single throne carved from the spine of a true dragon.
Upon that throne sat Heavenly Sovereign Caer'Zhael, robed in solar flame, his skin a lattice of divine equations, each pulsing with stolen prophecy.
Around him, the Twelve Cataclysms hovered—living weapons, each forged from a cosmic paradox.
They did not attack.
Not yet.
> "You," Caer'Zhael said softly, as if tasting ash. "You should not exist."
Kael raised his hand. The heirlooms on his back shifted like ghost-chimes.
> "I do not exist," he answered. "That's why I win."
---
◈ The First Clash
Without command, the Cataclysm of Time's Betrayal lunged forward—an avatar of twisted chronology, wrapped in paradox-veins and ghost-blood.
Kael invoked Hollow Dao: Third Stanza — "Let Cause Bleed Consequence."
The Cataclysm screamed as its future devoured its past, collapsing into a flicker of irony and imploding silently.
The court trembled. Scribes turned pale. The sun above cracked.
And Caer'Zhael rose from the throne.
> "You will not rewrite the heavens," he said. "You are one."
> "I am one," Kael said, "but I am also what you erased."
---
☉ Lore Fragment: The Cataclysms
The Twelve Cataclysms were forged during the Siege of the Second Cosmos—weapon-souls born from the extinction of entire philosophies. Each represents an absolute contradiction:
Flesh of Immortality's Death
Steel of Regret's Willingness
Flame of Frozen Truth, and so on.
Only a god can command them.
Or unmake them.
---
The second and third Cataclysms launched in unison. One wreathed in guilt-flame, the other a serpent of belief uncoiling into doubt.
Kael let them strike.
He did not dodge.
They passed through his Aetherion Nihility Body, unable to bind to a concept that did not fully belong to existence.
And then he spoke the Fourth Syllable of the Tongue.
The chamber screamed.
The Scribes bled.
The laws etched into the walls began to unwrite themselves.
Even Caer'Zhael staggered.
---
> "Enough!" he roared, summoning a spear made from compressed karma.
He launched it.
Kael met it with Noctis-Aurem, the Silent Fang.
Steel met fate.
And fate shattered.
---
⚔ Flashback: The Ashen Oracle
Long ago, beneath the ruined monoliths of the First Sect, a withered seer had once spoken to Kael:
> "One day you will strike a blow that even destiny will be too afraid to remember."
> "And when that day comes, you must not stop.
Not for love.
Not for peace.
Not even for yourself."
---
Kael stepped forward.
Caer'Zhael bled starlight.
The Court trembled.
And then, Kael knelt.
Not in surrender.
But in preparation.
For in his hand now pulsed a new heirloom:
The Crown of Dying Radiance — worn only by one who has slain a god.