IMMORTAL SLAYER

The sky broke open.

Not with thunder—but with silence so heavy, it crushed the morning light before it could rise.

Gabriel and his companions stood at the edge of the ruin, where the Mirror of Ruin had been. A scar now marred the earth, pulsing with faint red light that seemed to breathe.

Merlin's jaw was tight. "If the Mirror appeared here, unanchored… it means the boundaries are thinning."

Aziel pulled his cloak tighter. "Between our realm and what?"

Merlin didn't answer immediately. Then, finally: "Between what is… and what should never be."

Nyra reached for Gabriel's hand, grounding him. "That vision you saw—do you think it's real?"

Gabriel nodded. "It wasn't a warning. It was a path."

He looked toward the horizon, where mountains shimmered under a pale mist—the border of the Forgotten Lands.

Two days later.

They stood before the gate.

No doors. No guards. Just a monolith carved with ancient runes, bleeding slow trails of shadow. The land beyond it twisted like a fever dream—trees grown sideways, rivers flowing backward, clouds spiraling like torn scrolls.

Aziel muttered a prayer under his breath.

But it was Nyra who noticed it first.

A figure. Standing still. Watching them from the other side.

She raised her blade. "We're not alone."

The figure stepped forward.

No sound. No heartbeat. Just movement like slipping between moments.

And when it came into full view, even Merlin took a step back.

It was Gabriel.

Another Gabriel.

But hollow. His eyes black voids. No soul. No warmth. Just a cruel mimicry of form.

"You were forged in flame…" the hollow spoke, voice layered with a hundred screams, "…but here, you will burn away."

It attacked.

Blades clashed.

Lightning tore the air apart.

Aziel and Nyra fought beside Gabriel, but this was different. The creature didn't bleed. It absorbed. Every strike made it stronger.

Merlin roared ancient words, casting a barrier of golden light—but the Hollow Gabriel shattered it like glass.

Gabriel's wings flared wide, fire bursting from his skin. He pushed his power further than ever, calling on every fragment of the angelic force within him.

But then—it smiled.

The hollow raised its hand, and from the sky, darkness fell.

Not rain. Not ash.

Feathers.

Black feathers.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

And from them descended beings cloaked in ruin.

The Fallen, reborn in a new form.

Stronger.

Hungrier.

Led by a woman with silver eyes and a crown of glass.

Medussa.

But her expression was cold. Empty.

Not the Medussa Gabriel kissed.

This one wore the mark of betrayal.

Gabriel's voice cracked. "Medussa?"

She stepped forward, lifting a spear shaped from broken halos.

"No," she said.

"I am what's left when love is punished."

And she lunged.