Creation Of All Things-Chapter 155: The Monarchs Attack 2

Far out in the void, the war ripped open the darkness like bleeding wounds.

Selene's fleet, massive and ancient, coiled around her like a fortress. Her flagship — The Night Sovereign — floated at the heart, bristling with black cannons and wicked, curved blades along its sides. The banners of endless night whipped behind it, embroidered with her sigil: a bleeding moon cradled in chains.

The air inside the bridge was cold and sharp, like a blade pressed to your throat.

Selene stood tall in her silver-black armor, her cloak billowing behind her as the alarms screamed. Her silver eyes burned, locking onto the two figures carving a bloody path straight toward her — Raphael and Freya.

"Send in the Nightborn," she said coldly.

At once, the deck shuddered as hundreds of warriors — tall, faceless things wrapped in black mist and plated armor — launched from the lower decks, hurling through space toward the incoming threat.

On the outer lines, cannons flared to life.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Space itself shook as endless barrages of dark-energy shells raced toward Raphael and Freya.

For a moment, everything was swallowed in explosions.

But when the smoke peeled back — they were still there.

Raphael slammed his fist into the void once — and the shockwave crushed the shells mid-air, sending fragments spinning uselessly into the darkness. Beside him, Freya floated calmly, cold mist rising from her skin, her sword gleaming with a blue-white frost that froze even the light around her.

The first wave of Nightborn reached them.

Screaming across the dark, blades flashing, powers roaring to life — meteors of rage and blood.

Raphael grinned — sharp and cruel.

He met them head-on.

CRACK.

One punch — and three Nightborn exploded into mist.

Another swing of his arm — a dozen bodies folded inward, ribs shattering, blood splattering across the void like rain.

Freya moved like a ghost. Her sword sliced silently through their ranks — no heavy swings, no wasted energy. Every move was sharp, perfect, deadly. Wherever her blade passed, bodies froze solid and shattered like glass, spinning into nothing.

But there were too many.

The Nightborn kept coming, pouring out of Selene's fleet like a living tide.

More and more.

Selene watched from her throne-like command chair, fingers drumming on the cold armrest.

"Bleed them dry," she said, voice soft, almost lazy.

Down below, the battlefield turned savage.

A massive Nightborn, towering over the others, roared as it slammed into Raphael, its warhammer glowing with cursed energy. The blow landed — an explosion tearing through the stars.

Raphael grunted, sliding back through the void, boots carving fiery trails in the black.

Freya flashed in to cover him, blade whirling — but the hammer Nightborn blocked her strike, twisting its body unnaturally, lashing out with a barbed chain from its free hand.

The chain caught Freya's arm — slicing deep.

Blood misted the air.

Freya didn't flinch.

Cold exploded out from her wound, freezing the chain instantly. With a twist of her body, she yanked the Nightborn in close and stabbed her blade straight through its faceplate. Frost spread through the creature's head, and a second later, it shattered with a sound like glass exploding under pressure.

Raphael wiped blood from his mouth, smirking.

"Alright," he muttered. "They hit harder than I thought."

More Nightborn closed in.

Some riding black serpents of smoke, others wielding axes that could cleave small moons in half.

The sky above the battlefield was a hellscape now — burning wreckage, dismembered bodies, swirling mist and fire.

And through it all — Selene descended.

Her armor shimmered, radiating cold darkness. Her steps echoed across the broken void, even though there was no ground.

The Nightborn pulled back instantly, making a path for her.

Raphael and Freya tensed.

Selene raised one hand lazily — and space around them cracked.

Huge black spikes — kilometers long — shot out from the void itself, trying to impale them from every angle.

Freya flicked her fingers — a blast of cold swept out, slowing the spikes, freezing some midair.

Raphael barreled through the frozen ones like a cannonball, but a few still got through.

A jagged spike tore a deep gash across Freya's side, blood spurting out in slow-motion.

Another spike slammed into Raphael's shoulder, skewering through his armor, pinning him briefly in the dark.

Selene appeared in front of him, not rushing, just walking — like a queen strolling through her garden.

She grabbed the spike with one hand and twisted it.

The spike bent — forcing Raphael's body sideways with a brutal crunch.

Blood sprayed from his mouth.

Selene leaned in, her silver eyes inches from his face.

"You children think you can touch me?" she whispered.

Raphael's grin widened — even as blood ran down his chin.

Without warning, his muscles flexed — and the spike shattered around him.

BOOM.

His fist slammed into Selene's side, sending her flying back through several Nightborn like a wrecking ball.

Freya blurred in, despite the blood dripping from her wounds, her sword lashing out at Selene's exposed back.

Selene twisted mid-air, catching the blade with her gauntlet.

Sparks exploded.

The impact sent a deep vibration through the void.

Selene kicked off Freya's stomach hard, sending her tumbling through the battlefield, smashing through one of the broken warships, the hull twisting and exploding around her.

From above, Nightborn archers fired — black arrows coated in venomous mist — raining down like a second storm.

Freya flipped back into the fight, her sword slicing apart the arrows mid-air. But even she couldn't block them all — one arrow drove through her thigh, pinning her briefly to a ruined piece of ship.

Raphael roared, his aura flaring white-hot, blasting the arrows away from him.

But Selene was already back — moving fast, almost teleporting — her hand shaping a jagged blade from her own blood.

She thrust.

The blood blade pierced Raphael's side, deep, twisting savagely.

His eyes widened for a moment — then he grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

Freya, bleeding and furious, forced herself free from the arrow pinning her down, rushing in.

Selene snarled, pulling back fast, releasing a blast of dark energy that ripped a crater in the void, forcing Freya to dodge wildly.

Both sides bled now.

Both sides breathing hard.

Around them, Nightborn reinforcements kept pouring out — more and more.

A new wave, bigger than before.

Selene hovered above, her black cloak unfurling like wings, her hair whipping wildly.

"You should've stayed on Virelia," she said, voice dripping with contempt.

Raphael wiped blood from his mouth again, rolling his shoulder.

"Heh," he chuckled. "You hit harder than those other clowns."

Freya floated beside him, blood dripping from her sword arm, her expression cold, focused.

Above them, Selene raised both hands.

The void itself trembled.

Behind her, the Night Sovereign's cannons began charging, gathering black light until they looked like tiny black suns.

The battlefield fell into an eerie silence.

Selene smiled — not kind, not cruel — just certain.

"Die," she whispered.

The cannons fired.

Thousands of black beams ripped through space — not light, not energy — just absence, tearing through everything they touched.

Raphael and Freya moved — faster than before, their bodies pushed to the limit.

They dodged, they countered, they bled.

War wasn't beautiful here.

It was savage.

Brutal.

Raw.

Selene, old and merciless, fought like a goddess who had seen a thousand wars and crushed them all beneath her heel.

And though Raphael and Freya burned bright — brighter than stars — they were still bleeding, still struggling.

The battle raged on.

Nowhere near over.

And somewhere, deep inside, all three of them knew —

This was just the beginning. freewёbnoνel.com