Chapter 18- The Wrath of Helios
The ship drifted in the heart of the endless ocean, where the water stretched infinitely, a mirror to the sky above. The crew had sailed out to lay low, the Supreme Order's forces undoubtedly regrouping after their slaughter at the shipyard. But for now, the salty breeze and rhythmic crashing of the waves provided a momentary peace.
Until the sea monsters came.
Tentacles the size of tree trunks erupted from the depths, and jagged maws split the surface, eager to drag the ship and its inhabitants into the abyss. But before Bow could even crack his knuckles, before Prometheus could unsheathe his swords, it was over.
Helios and Ariadne stood at the edge of the deck, their expressions unimpressed.
With a flick of her wrist, Ariadne sent dark tendrils lashing forward, eviscerating a massive, scaled beast, its torso splitting open like a grotesque flower. Helios, with a casual wave of his hand, summoned a crushing tidal force, slamming the remaining creatures into each other before skewering them with water spikes so thin and sharp they cut through flesh like paper. Within seconds, the sea turned red, and the bodies of the monsters sank back into the abyss.
Bow exhaled, shaking his head. "Didn't even get to warm up."
Prometheus smirked. "Not worth our time."
But the momentary reprieve was short-lived.
The sky split open.
A golden light, blinding and divine, poured from a rip in the heavens above them. The sea stilled, unnatural and eerie, as if the world itself was bowing in reverence to what was about to descend. The sensation was sickeningly familiar, the same oppressive presence from before.
"No fucking way," Bow muttered, his body tensing.
Through the portal, a figure emerged—radiant and terrible. Angelus Maris et Caeli, the Angel of the Sea and Sky, his form wreathed in divine light. His wings, vast and shimmering like molten gold, extended behind him, and his piercing gaze burned into Helios and his crew.
"You blasphemous wretches," the angel's voice rang through the air, like a choir of voices speaking as one. "Your existence is an affront to the order of the universe."
Then he moved.
The ocean rebelled.
Torrents of water surged upward, towering waves crashing upon themselves, seeking to capsize the ship. The heavens raged alongside him, dark clouds churning, winds howling like the cries of vengeful spirits. But the ship—crafted by the greatest shipwrights in existence—held firm, an unmovable fortress against nature's fury.
Helios, however, was beyond words. Beyond reason.
Something in him snapped.
His breath came in ragged snarls, his muscles swelled, and then—his markings shifted. The lines on his cheeks stretched and widened into three thick, rectangular shapes, and a surge of unimaginable power coursed through his body. The very air vibrated around him, distorting as if reality itself struggled to contain his wrath.
Then he moved.
Water bent to his will, rising in monstrous shapes—hydras with jaws that could crush mountains, serpents that coiled through the air before lashing at the angel with god-like fury. With his Water Gem surging to its peak, Helios commanded the sea like it was an extension of himself, countering Angelus' divine might with pure, unchained brutality.
Angelus retaliated, summoning a rain of celestial spears, each one glowing with the purity of the heavens, aiming to pierce Helios and end him in a single instant.
But Helios was beyond stopping.
He tore through the barrage, his body weaving between the deadly strikes, his strength doubling with every movement. He struck with raw power, fists coated in high-pressure water, his blows shaking the angel to his core. Angelus faltered, struggling against Helios' relentless assault.
Helios
Then Helios laughed—a terrible, guttural thing.
He was winning.
He was going to make this angel suffer.
With a monstrous leap, he crashed down on Angelus, slamming his fists into the celestial being's skull with bone-shattering force. He didn't stop. Again and again, he struck, the sound of cracking bone and splattering blood mixing with the angel's ragged screams.
Then, with one final downward slam, Helios sent Angelus crashing onto the deck of the ship. The impact shook the entire vessel, and as the angel struggled to rise, wings flaring weakly, Helios was already upon him.
His sword in hand, he drove it into Angelus' skull.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Blood sprayed across the deck, painting the pristine wood a deep crimson. Angelus twitched, gasping, his divine body refusing to die easily. He tried to lift himself, wings spreading in one last desperate attempt to escape.
Helios snarled.
His sword snapped from the sheer force of his strikes, but it didn't matter.
With his bare hands, he grabbed hold of Angelus' wings and—
RIPPED.
The angel's agonized scream split the heavens as his wings were torn from his back, the divine feathers scattering like fallen stars. Blood gushed in rivers, pooling at Helios' feet as he tossed the severed wings aside, his face and body drenched in celestial ichor.
Bow was speechless, staring in stunned horror.
Prometheus, usually unreadable, had gone pale.
Ariadne simply watched, her usual smirk replaced with something unreadable.
Helios didn't stop.
With relentless fury, he slammed his fists into the broken angel's form, mixing martial arts, swordplay, and Apex Gem manipulation with seamless brutality. It was a dance of pure carnage, a display of god-like violence that no mortal—or even celestial—could withstand.
By the time he was finished, Angelus Maris et Caeli was nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh and bone, his divine essence drained, his body desecrated beyond recognition.
Helios exhaled, his body still shaking, his eyes still burning with unrelenting rage.
Then, slowly, he turned to his crew.
Bow took a step back.
Prometheus said nothing.
Ariadne tilted her head. "Well… that was excessive."
Helios wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, breathing heavily. Then he stepped over the angel's ruined corpse, walking toward the edge of the ship.
"Let's keep moving."
No one argued.
The sea was quiet once more, but the silence wasn't peaceful.