SWNOVELXO Chapter 19: The Fallen Throne
"You call yourself a god? Then bleed like one."
The crimson haze hadn't lifted. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was stunned. The only sound left in the throne room was my ragged breath and the slow drip of blood from my blades.
Ashgar's corpse twitched no more.
And yet, the real nightmare had only just begun.
Vermund stood from his throne. Slowly. Purposefully. Not out of panic. Not out of fear. Like a man stretching before a game he'd already won.
"Finally," he said, stepping down the black steps. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it."
My grip tightened around my ethereal blades.
"You sent an army," I said.
He nodded. "And you painted me a masterpiece in their blood. Bravo."
I didn't move. My aura flared violet-black. The ground beneath me cracked in spirals.
"Cut the monologue. You're next."
Vermund stopped at the base of the stairs, smiled.
"No. Not yet."
He raised one finger.
And the atmosphere changed.
Not the air. Not the temperature.
The rules.
My breath caught in my throat.
I couldn't feel my heartbeat.
It was like the entire throne room had been ripped from reality and placed inside a pressure chamber held together by divine fear.
"I could end this with a breath," Vermund said softly, his smile never faltering. "But then where's the fun?"
I stepped forward, blades glowing.
"Then let's have fun."
He looked down at the blood-soaked floor, at the corpses of his elite.
"I've seen too many mortals screaming for vengeance. All of them begged for meaning. Purpose. You're different."
He leaned forward, almost gently.
"You're not screaming. You're laughing, even as your soul burns."
I tilted my head. "Maybe I'm just broken."
He raised a brow. "Or maybe… you're close."
"Close to what?"
"To becoming what the heavens fear most."
He didn't wait.
Vermund moved.
He didn't run. Didn't blink. He arrived in front of me.
Faster than my aura could respond.
I swung out of instinct.
He parried with two fingers.
My blade rang. The force sent me skidding backwards.
I blinked, regained footing.
Then charged again.
He didn't move this time.
I slashed down with both blades—twisting mid-air to increase speed.
He let me.
Until the very last moment.
Then raised a palm—and caught both blades mid-swing.
"Predictable," he whispered.
Then hurled me across the room.
I hit the pillar, spine-first, stone cracking behind me. My lungs collapsed for a second, and all sound turned into static.
He's stronger. Too much.
But I got up again.
Blood dripping down my temple. Fingers twitching. Aura flaring violently.
"I'm not here to be predictable," I said. "I'm here to ruin the status quo."
"You're here," he said, walking toward me, "to remind me why gods shouldn't sleep for too long."
Vermund's voice deepened—not just in volume, but in weight. Like the words were being pulled from the underworld.
"You think pain makes you strong. You think loss makes you worthy. But strength forged in death still dies."
He stopped in front of me again.
"You could be something, Kaito. Cast aside your mortality. Serve me. Rule with me. The heavens are brittle. You know this."
I smiled. Wiped blood from my mouth.
"You think I want to rule?"
"I think," Vermund said softly, "you don't want to die."
I leaned in.
"I already did."
Around us, the others began to stir. Eve held her side, crawling to her knees. The rest were regaining breath—but they weren't battle-ready.
This fight… was mine.
I stepped forward again. This time not with rage.
But clarity.
"I know what you are now."
Vermund raised a brow.
"You're not a god. You're a tyrant with memory loss."
I flared both blades.
"This ends with one of us bleeding into the next era."
He grinned.
"Then let's carve a new chapter."
"You wear divinity like a crown. I wear it like a blade."
The throne room cracked.
Not from an attack—but from the tension.
My aura rippled outward in purple shockwaves, laced with violent black thorns. The twin ethereal blades in my hands were screaming—vibrating in tune with my blood.
Vermund stepped down from the dais, removing the last strip of restraint. His coat unfurled behind him like a cape made from nightmares.
Then he blinked.
The space around him bent. Walls quaked. My senses twisted—
He was gone.
No—he was above me.
I rolled. His fist slammed into the stone where my head had been. The entire ground cracked outward like a crater.
I was already mid-air, slashing downward.
He caught both blades bare-handed.
"Still clumsy," he murmured.
Then snapped his fingers.
A burst of raw divine light exploded from his body.
I was thrown back, skidding across the throne room floor. Smoke poured from my skin.
Pain tore through my ribs. I coughed blood. He had burned through my aura barrier.
"Damn," I muttered, "your shampoo smells like genocide."
He was already moving again.
This time, I blinked before he arrived.
Reappeared behind him—one blade at his spine, the other near his throat.
"I learned a few things too," I whispered.
I slashed.
He turned.
Blocked both with his arm—and let the blades dig in.
Blood leaked. He didn't flinch.
"I wondered if you could make me bleed," he said. "Now I'm curious what happens when I get serious."
He raised his hand.
Spells formed in mid-air—six celestial circles—
And all of them activated at once.
Gravity warped.
The air turned to molten silver.
I blinked again—barely dodging the first strike—a meteor forged of screaming runes.
The second came in a spiral—a divine net meant to crush time itself.
I slashed it apart mid-air.
The third—a spike of light—pierced my leg.
I screamed. Crashed to the floor. Blood pooled beneath me.
Then lightning. Fire. Binding seals. Each spell different. Each ancient.
My blades worked double-time.
Clang. Slice. Blink. Bleed.
Clang. Break. Scream. Stand.
But I was slowing.
He wasn't.
Why did I even take this contract?
What was I before her?
What am I now?
Another strike. I blocked it but skidded twenty feet.
I could hear Lysaria's voice in my mind:
"I gave you power. But you gave it purpose."
Then I'll give it all.
I sheathed one of my blades.
Vermund tilted his head. "Giving up already?"
"No," I said. "Focusing."
I gripped Kagetsura.
The etheral longsword burst into existence in my right hand. Black and purple, its edge howling for blood.
I held the blade low—Iaido stance.
"You said I'm not divine," I said.
"I'm not."
"But neither are you."
He narrowed his eyes.
I vanished.
I reappeared inches from his chest.
Slash.
He blocked—his arm bled again.
Slash.
He countered—sliced my shoulder open.
Stab.
I twisted Kagetsura straight into his ribs—piercing divine bone.
He roared.
Grabbed my wrist—snapped it.
I screamed.
And headbutted him.
We both stumbled back.
Bleeding. Panting. Grinning.
"You feel that?" I said.
Vermund wiped blood from his chin. "Haven't in centuries."
Vermund raised his hand.
The throne room shattered.
We were falling through the floor—into open void.
Floating. Nothing but stars and fractured memories below.
"We're outside reality now," he said.
"Good," I replied. "More room for you to die."
I blinked again.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
I became afterimages. I became sound.
I was everywhere. And nowhere.
I sliced him from thirty directions.
Blood painted the void.
He struck me once—nearly caved in my chest.
But I gripped him by the collar—dragged him through a dimensional tear—and hurled him back into the crumbling throne room.
I blinked in after him.
My blade impaled his shoulder.
He dropped to one knee.
He coughed blood. Then laughed.
Deep. Villainous. Unapologetic.
"You're strong… Kaito."
"But you're too late."
The ground trembled.
I turned.
And saw it.
A massive gate… opening.
Beyond it—
A skyless world of screaming flame and shadows.
Demons.
Thousands.
"No," I whispered.
Vermund smiled wider.
"You can kill me. But you'll never stop what I've unleashed."