Erta and Ceres watched in horror as a cyclone of pitch black souls seemingly drowned Caelum.
They wanted to rush forward to free him from whatever tragedy was about to happen, but they could not even get close. The power of souls was a fundamental part of existence.
No living being would able to withstand its influence under normal circumstances. And although Erta had her Holy Light and Holy Flame, in the end, they are born of a different aspect of existence, that of conceptual good.
They could bless and cleanse beings from malevolent blights that taint them, but they could do nothing against souls for their manifestation are embodiments of the forces that influence them.
They were not tainted by curses. Instead, they themselves harboured the darkness of the world.
Those who could not live their lives to satisfaction, those who could not pass on in peace, those who could not return to the everlasting cycle could only bear hatred, despair and envy among many others. They were crippled by these emotions and transformed, but in the end, they were still souls.
Erta wanted to just burn through the souls knowing full well that it will destroy them despite the fact that Caelum's intention for coming here was as clear as day.
He wanted to save them, but in order to save Caelum, Erta could only choose to destroy them.
However, just as she was preparing to act on her decision, she felt an intense ripple in space. Ceres shrieked next to her, her face pale as snow-capped mountains.
A gate had appeared not far from where they were. But this gate was massive, more so than any of the gates that had appeared before. It tore through air like undoing the seams of space itself.
The ethereal energy of souls seeped out gently from it, but they could tell it was far from being pure. It held a greenish tinge to it that made it look sickly and corrosive rather than natural. Unlike the souls that surrounded Caelum, this one seemed entirely tainted not by emotions, but by a foreign and disgusting power.
For a while, nothing happened. Everything was silent.
Even the people nearby who had gathered upon seeing Caelum and the mad swirl of souls revolving around him only looked at the gate in confusion and wariness.
Erta felt an unparalleled sense of danger coming from within the gate, but she could not leave. Caelum and Ceres aside, the people around them would be powerless against what was behind that gate.
Her Holy Light and Holy Flame churned wildly within her as her soul seemed to want to leave her body for a place more comfortable.
Meanwhile, Ceres could feel something else. An instinctual hatred, fear and disgust filled her entire being as she watched the gate with reddening eyes. Whatever was behind that gate was the antithesis to her power, to Grace itself.
And then, a low wail rang out. At first, it was just one. Then soon came another, then another, then another… before long, a cacophony of horrid cries resounded.
It was an orchestra of despair that washed over everyone, drowning them in a murky mud of feebleness. It was like a waking nightmare that they could not run from no matter how much effort they exerted.
It was then that the beings behind the gate stepped foot onto their world. And in that moment, the line that separated the world of the living from the dead seemed to crumble.
Wraiths rushed forward, brandishing their ethereal blades. Phantoms charged in with their ghastly steeds. And spectres wandered about, wailing to the skies that had now gone dark.
Rain poured down from the heavens as though crying together with the forsaken souls. And although this world was theirs, the humans of Earth thought they had been dragged into the underworld.
Blood spilled as lifeless corpses fell. The land that had once already been covered by death had once again become its breeding ground. And with more and more deaths, the Army of the Unliving grew stronger and more numerous.
Erta and Ceres could no longer stay idle. They wanted to break through and clear a path for the people to escape, but even they were not spared from the power of the souls.
The wailing spirits made them feel like they were wading through dense water, and the wraiths and phantoms did not miss the opportunity to attack. It was clear that the enemy had only one goal, to harvest.
This event was naturally not unknown to the rest of Earth. Even with most of the infrastructure and technology of Earth having been ruined by the black flames, the ripple of soulforce that tore through space could be felt in every corner of the world.
Many people rushed to find ways to get to the small archipelago, but it would take time. By the time they reached the Longgram Isles, the battle might very well be over and the entire country could have been overrun.
Still, they could no longer remain complacent. Having experienced the power of the black flames and the power that created the gate, the people of Earth finally understood that there was never a moment when they were safe.
It made them realise that Caelum's grace would never be given to them again unless they could show their value. And the first step toward that was to protect their world from the greatest threat they have ever faced since the emergence three years ago.
However, Earth could not know just how fortunate (or unfortunate in the eyes of the emerged worlds) they were at this moment.
Due to the black flames that crossed space to wreak havoc on the armies of the invading worlds, Earth's enemies were forced to hold back. But the moment that the black flames covering Earth had vanished, the leaders of Pandemonium, Seven Hells and even some of the more powerful primals of Sumeru decided to invade Earth once again.
That was until a giant gate was formed connecting Earth to the most mysterious world that ever emerged into the Great War, the Yin Underworld.
No one wanted to fight the Army of the Unliving directly, and they were glad that the Underworld did not invade often. They only plundered the worlds that have already lost.
But now, the Underworld waged war against the living mortals of Earth. And from the very heart of the Yin Underworld, a skeleton sat upon a black stone throne. It was encased in a large ice that held a greenish sickly hue.
And from within that Frozen Throne, the skeleton's empty eye sockets flickered with pale green flames. A disembodied voice spread out from the giant ice with the smoothness of a ballad.
[Sing the song of sombre sorrows. Sing the song of sundered skies. Sing the song of sunken sanity. Sing until the scorched sovereign meets his severed Fate. Sing until the Serpent slumbers eternally.]
And as though the voice was a finger plucking on strings, the army of the unliving glowed with an even deeper sickly green.
They had become faster, stronger, but most importantly, they were all wailing in chorus.
This was the song of boundless grief, the song of broken dreams, the song of forgotten souls who had been left to perish. It was a requiem long waiting to be unleashed. And now, their stage is set and the curtains have risen. And regardless of their stance, all worlds will be their unwilling audience to this grandest of dirges.
Ceres continued to fight with all she had. Spreading her arms before her, soft white gold light struck the horde of wailing souls.
This was the power of Grace, the power of blessings and miracles. But before the sickly green light of the unliving, with her still being unbaptised by the Ancestor of Grace, she could do nothing more than block their advance. Her power was extremely limited, and it was greatly apparent now.
Even with the several dozens of people she managed to protect with her power, there were still countless more being slaughtered in the areas she could not reach. She cursed her helplessness.
Even with power, she was no different from a little girl lost in a sea of people. But she could not allow herself to fall here. Not in this place. After all, would it not be even sadder for her brother to wake up only to learn that his sister died in the same place as their parents?
That thought spurred her on, a seemingly bottomless pool of power surging outward from within her. Though it may be crippled at the moment, the power of Grace was a selfless thing, fueled by sentiments and emotions. It was what the army of the unliving did not have… no longer have.
However, just as Ceres was beginning to feel more at ease with the reduced pressure on her reinforced barrier, a piercing scream echoed out from within the battlefield.
She looked toward its direction only to find an angel whose wings of fire, which once burned golden, were now blazing with a fiendish green light. Her golden eyes were similarly maddened with a pale verdant wisp that seemed both hollow and restless.
Erta had fallen.