Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1304: All Father

Paradise was a realm where beauty met perfection, untouched by corruption or conflict. Rolling meadows stretched endlessly in every direction, the grass a vibrant green that shimmered with a mystical luster. Flowers of all kinds bloomed freely, their soft hues painting the landscape in patches of subtle colors. A gentle breeze whispered across the fields, carrying with it the delicate scent of fresh blooms and pure mana.

Above, the sky was a canvas of pristine white clouds, drifting lazily as if time itself moved slower here. They were so bright that they almost glowed, casting soft shadows over the meadows. Sunlight beamed gently through the cloud cover, never too harsh, always perfect—an eternal spring that neither faded nor grew too warm.

The sound of waterfalls echoed in the distance, cascading like silver threads from hidden cliffs, their waters pooling into crystal-clear streams that wound gracefully through the landscape. Birds filled the air with harmonious songs, their sweet chirps and melodies blending with the rhythm of the falling water. Yet despite their enchanting presence, there was a distinct absence—no beasts roamed these lands, as if only the finest, most delicate parts of nature were permitted to remain.

Mana saturated the very air, a boundless and omnipresent energy that pulsed gently, shimmering like faint stardust drifting across the meadow. It invigorated everything it touched, fueling the perfection of the land. Every blade of grass, every drop of water, every petal of a flower was imbued with life and magic beyond mortal comprehension.

And at the heart of this idyllic world stood the Palace. A towering monument of majesty and symmetry, the building was impossibly large, almost blending with the horizon. Its walls shimmered like marble, reflecting the sky’s purity. Gold filigree adorned the edges of towering pillars, and its massive gates gleamed under the soft light. No other structures existed—there was only the Palace, radiating authority and sanctity, the epicenter of this divine realm.

The inhabitants of this paradise were few and rare: the Seraphs. No beasts, no other races—only the chosen few of the human race ascended to become these celestial beings. They moved gracefully through the meadows or stood vigilantly around the Palace, each Seraph radiating light and serenity. Their white wings folded neatly behind them, their expressions serene yet resolute, as if always prepared for a purpose only they understood.

Jade light spilled into Paradise, casting shimmering reflections on the meadow’s grass. Seraphs, adorned in white robes with majestic wings folded behind them, smiled gently as they approached the light. Their expressions quickly twisted into confusion when the glow dissipated, revealing a battered figure.

"Aella...?"

The seraphs blinked in disbelief. It was rare for one of their own to appear in such a disheveled state. Aella’s hair was matted with sweat, and her hands trembled. Her once immaculate robe was torn, and a blackened burn marred her delicate palm—something unheard of among their kind. She gasped for breath, a sight more shocking than her wounds, for Seraphs hadn’t needed to breathe in centuries.

"Please... help me get to the All-Father," Aella rasped.

The surrounding seraphs exchanged panicked glances, uncertain of what could have brought one of their own to such a state. Without another word, they ushered her toward the Palace—the massive, solitary structure at the heart of Paradise.

Inside the throne room, vast and empty, sat a man whose presence commanded reverence. The All-Father lounged on his throne, exuding effortless authority. His golden hair shimmered under the ambient light, and his glowing wings—radiating the same shade—rested against the marble seat. His sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with indifference, as if nothing in existence could trouble him. He looked neither old nor young, just timeless and serene.

He waved a hand casually, and the grand doors opened on their own. Aella, limping with the help of another seraph, entered the throne room.

"Aella was presented, All-Father," the attending seraph announced, bowing deeply.

"Speak, child," the All-Father said, his tone calm yet resonant, echoing through the hall. "What is it that you seek?"

Aella knelt before him, her expression desperate. "Someone is trying to wage war against Paradise," she blurted.

The other seraph beside her flinched, stunned by the audacity of her claim.

"Wage war... against Paradise?" the All-Father repeated softly, raising a single brow.

"Yes! Please!" Aella extended her burnt hand toward him. "This happened at the Gathering of the Six. I fought him, but..." She hesitated, as if the memory alone shook her. "He’s unlike anything I’ve encountered. A being so empty I couldn’t sense his cultivation. Nothing. It was as if—"

All-Father descended from his throne. His hands behind his back before he took a good look at the burnt hand. "As if he had no mana?" the All-Father continued, studying her with renewed curiosity.

"Exactly," Aella nodded frantically. "He beat me down... and—and Rufus... Rufus is gone."

The attending seraph gasped in disbelief. "A mortal killed a Seraph? That can’t be! It’s—it’s impossible!"

"Daring to kill a Seraph..." The All-Father’s gaze drifted toward the windows overlooking the endless fields of Paradise. "And waging war against us. Has the gate to Hell reopened?" he thought to himself.

"We should gather a legion!" the other seraph insisted. "If some fool challenges us, we’ll show him why Paradise reigns supreme!"

"Yes! Give me an army, and I’ll drag him here myself," Aella added, her voice trembling with both fear and vengeful determination.

The All-Father turned slightly, smiling at their eagerness. "Now, now, my children. I appreciate your enthusiasm."

Aella and her companion beamed, believing they had earned a chance to redeem themselves.

"I want him alive," the All-Father said, his tone low but absolute as he turned around and headed back to his throne

"Yes, All-Father!" they both answered eagerly.

With the conversation concluded, Aella leaned on the other seraph as they exited the chamber. The curious seraph glanced at her. "What’s the brat’s name, anyway?"

"Lyon Torga," Aella whispered.

The All-Father froze mid-step. His eyes widened, the brilliant blue of his irises dimming as his pupils shrank to pinpricks. His golden wings twitched, and for the first time in millennia, something akin to fear rippled across his perfect features.

That name—Lyon Torga—resurfaced from a place buried deep within his memory. An ancient shadow stirred, sending shivers down his spine. His hand gripped the armrest of the throne.

The All-Father’s hand moved with deliberate grace, and the massive doors to the throne room slammed shut with a resounding echo. Aella and the other seraph froze mid-step, dread seeping into their bones. They exchanged uneasy glances before turning back toward the All-Father, their faces riddled with confusion and fear.

"How did you know that name?" the All-Father’s voice cut through the heavy air like a blade. His calm exterior wavered, and for the first time, a hint of urgency cracked through his serene demeanor.

"H-He told me..." Aella stammered, her voice trembling under the weight of his gaze.

The All-Father took a step forward, his golden wings shimmering ominously. "What else?" he pressed.

Aella’s hands shook as she recalled the encounter. "He... he claimed himself to be the Emperor of the Empyrean. The Zodiac Emperor."

The All-Father’s face paled, and his wings stiffened. "Impossible," he whispered, almost to himself. "He died... a long time ago."

But then, as if gripped by a haunting memory, the All-Father’s breath hitched. His mind replayed an ancient battlefield—where one man, floating above legions of divine beings, had reduced more than half of the pantheon to ashes.

"He had the Samsara...?" The All-Father’s voice was barely audible, as if the realization alone threatened to unravel him. His hand, for a brief moment, twitched at the memory of that overwhelming force—a cycle of death and rebirth no divine entity should possess.

"All-Father?" Aella whispered cautiously, sensing something terrifyingly wrong.

"Forget it," the All-Father murmured. Then louder, with a tone of finality: "Forget about fetching him. If he truly is who he claims to be... your legion would only march toward its death."

Aella and the other seraph stood in stunned silence. No stronger beings than the seraph existed in their understanding—or so they had thought. But now, doubt gnawed at them. If this Zodiac Emperor was real, what were they facing?

The All-Father’s gaze darkened as he leaned forward. "Tell me everything that happened during the Gathering of the Six."

Aella swallowed hard, nerves threatening to choke her words. "At first, the Gathering went as usual. But then... a group entered. Six people. I sensed celestial cultivators among them. They didn’t seem like much at first, but—"

"Focus," the All-Father interrupted coldly. "Tell me about him."

Aella closed her eyes briefly to gather herself. "He was strange—he felt... empty. I couldn’t detect his cultivation. It was as if he didn’t belong to any realm at all. When we fought, his movements were precise, calculated. But the most terrifying part was..." She hesitated, recalling the moment vividly. "It was like... he enjoyed it. He toyed with me—us—as if we were beneath him."

"And Rufus?" the All-Father asked, his voice low.

Aella’s breath hitched. "Gone. He... he killed Rufus. Effortlessly."

The other seraph shivered beside her. "He killed a Seraph... and he wasn’t even trying?"

Aella nodded, clutching her burnt hand. "He burn him alive."

The All-Father’s eyes flickered with something dangerous—fear, regret, and a flicker of old rage long buried. "And his words?"

"He said," Aella whispered, "that the Empyrean would rise again. That Paradise’s reign is... coming to an end."

The All-Father exhaled slowly. "So he has returned," he muttered, as if speaking to himself.

With a casual flick of his hand, the All-Father dismissed Aella and the other seraph. Before they could react, an invisible force whisked them away, and they blinked, finding themselves standing once more on the endless meadows outside the palace.

The other seraph looked at Aella, breathless with disbelief. "What... just happened?"

Aella clenched her burnt hand, her mind spinning. "We’re not prepared for this... Not at all."

Back in the throne room, the All-Father’s hurried steps echoed against the cold, gleaming walls. His serene composure cracked, replaced with grim urgency. "The Old One must know... Torga be damned! They always return!" His voice carried the weight of millennia-old fears.

Without hesitation, the All-Father spread his golden wings wide, leaving the throne behind as he disappeared deeper into the heart of Paradise—toward the only being that could comprehend the storm gathering on the horizon.

---

Meanwhile, Lyon’s eyes fluttered open, and he exhaled slowly. The familiar scent of ancient wood and fresh leaves filled his nostrils. He stood not in the heavens nor among mortals—but before Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Towering and majestic, its endless branches stretched far beyond sight, bridging realms known and unknown.