The Heavenly Demon of Terror-Chapter 299: The Path to Skyreach Bastion

Samuel's POV

The wind howled through the jagged peaks of Oblivion, carrying with it the scent of ash and ancient secrets.

Each step I took on the cracked obsidian path echoed like a drumbeat, a reminder of the battles I'd fought and the ones yet to come.

I adjusted the straps on my Abyss Gauntlets, their void-forged steel still humming with residual energy.

The memory of my clash with Nelo Angelo was fresh, but my mind was already consumed by thoughts of the Queen's Right Wing.

"They say she's the Queen's shield," I muttered to myself, eyes scanning the horizon. "If that's true, breaking through her means I'm one step closer to the throne."

A sudden rustle in the shadows caught my attention. From the darkness emerged a figure cloaked in tattered robes, face obscured by a hood.

"Samuel Gebb," the figure rasped. "The Harbinger of Destruction."

I tensed, readying my stance. "Who's asking?"

"A messenger, nothing more," the figure replied, extending a parchment. "The Queen's Right Wing awaits your challenge."

I took the parchment, unrolling it to reveal a map marked with a single location: Skyreach Bastion. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"Tell her I'll be there," I said, crumpling the parchment. "And tell her to be ready."

The figure nodded once before disappearing into the shadows.

I turned my gaze back to the path ahead. The journey to Skyreach Bastion would be treacherous, but the promise of battle fueled my resolve.

"Time to see if the Queen's shield can withstand the storm."

With determination burning in my chest, I pressed forward, each step bringing me closer to the confrontation that would shape the fate of Oblivion.

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Skyreach Bastion, Throne of Stone and Silence

The gates of Skyreach Bastion loomed ahead—twin towers of voidstone etched with runes older than time itself.

The wind here didn't whisper; it howled, screamed, cried out like a graveyard of gods.

I pushed the massive doors open with a single swing of my gauntleted fists. They groaned in protest—like the world itself wasn't ready to see what came next.

And there she was.

Seated at the edge of a stone dais, legs crossed, a single obsidian wing folded behind her back like a dagger sheathed in patience.

Her armor shimmered not with gold or elegance but with raw darkness—elegant, brutal, and merciless. The Queen's Right Wing.

"Samuel Gebb," she said, not looking up. Her voice? Silk wrapped around razors. "The Harbinger who broke Nelo Angelo in half and still had the nerve to complain about it."

I chuckled, slow and amused. "He wasn't that impressive. Bit too in love with his own sword."

She looked up.

Her eyes were pale amethyst. No warmth. No cruelty. Just a soldier's stillness. "If you think this is going to be another flashy brawl where you show off your tricks... go home."

"I don't have a home," I said, stepping into the chamber. My boots echoed like thunder on marble. "I have quests, scars, and the scent of blood on my coat. That's enough for now."

She rose slowly. "You're cocky. But you're not lying. Good."

"I didn't come here for your approval."

She smirked slightly. "Then you must've come to die."

"I've already died," I said. "In three lives. In three worlds. I'm just here to finish what fate started."

That made her pause. For a heartbeat, the mask of indifference cracked. She tilted her head.

"You remember your past lives?"

"Vividly."

"And Roselle?"

A slow exhale. "She haunts every one of them."

Her gaze sharpened like drawn steel. "You still crave her?"

"I crave strength," I said coldly. "The kind I tasted with her. On the battlefield. In bed. In betrayal. But this—" I gestured to her—"this isn't about her."

"No," she said, stepping off the dais. "It's about me."

She unsheathed a pair of twin sabers—curved like crescent moons, humming with anti-light.

"I am Vaelira Duskheart. Right Wing of the Queen. Her blade, her silence, her will. To reach her, you pass through me."

"And if I break you?"

"Then you get an audience. But not her hand. Or her mercy."

I summoned the Oblivion Chains, letting them swirl around my arms like living serpents. "I don't need mercy. I need the Challenge."

We circled each other now, like predators who'd long since forgotten fear.

"You don't understand what she's becoming," Vaelira said. "Roselle... she's not the same woman you once knew."

"Neither am I," I replied. "But I still plan on standing beside her. Or above her."

"You arrogant bastard," she muttered—but there was no hate in her tone. Just a warrior's respect.

"Say that after I've left you broken."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

And just like that, she launched.

Fast.

A blur.

I activated Voidstep just in time—reappearing behind her and swinging with my gauntlets. She ducked, spun, and slashed. The air whistled. Sparks flew.

For a moment, it was all motion and memory. I saw Roselle in her style—in the discipline, the fury, the silent wrath. They'd trained together, or maybe she'd been crafted by Roselle herself.

And yet... I wasn't the same fool from the first life. Or the war-addled killer of the second. I was forged in vengeance now.

"Apocalypse Roar!" I bellowed, unleashing a shockwave that sent her skidding back.

Vaelira wiped the blood from her lip, smiling. "You're not bad. Still sloppy in the left-hand feints though."

"I'll correct it when I'm done stomping you."

We clashed again—her blades slicing through shadow, my fists wrapped in voidfire. The chains bit. Her sabers cut. But neither of us backed down.

Until finally—finally—we stood across from each other, both panting, bleeding, eyes wild.

"You want your audience?" she rasped.

I nodded. "If I have to crawl through fire to face her, I will."

She sheathed her blades. "Then go, Harbinger. But don't forget... just because the throne is empty doesn't mean it wants to be filled."

I grinned, wiping blood from my lip.

"That's fine. I've always made the throne kneel to me."