I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl-Chapter 388 - 384 – World Quake and the Fire that Swallowed the God

Chapter 388: Chapter 384 – World Quake and the Fire that Swallowed the God

The calm in the back garden of Nocture Castle that night felt fragile, like a thin sheet of glass waiting to crack. Sylvia was still sitting against the large stone beneath the giant treant, her red eyes half-closed, her black cloak spread across the cold, damp grass. The treant’s small branch kept plopping gently in her lap, like a child who never tired of playing. Noir curled warmly beside her, his soft purr almost drowned out by the night wind carrying the thick scent of black roses.

But the world answered Sylvia’s boredom in a way she had never asked for.

The ground trembled first with only a small vibration, like the pulse of a giant waking from a long sleep. The black-silver leaves of the giant treant swayed harder than usual. The small branch stopped plopping; its leaves stiffened as if listening. Noir’s red eyes snapped open wide, his black scales bristling, a low growl full of threat rumbling in his throat.

Sylvia opened her eyes fully. She felt it before the second tremor arrived.

The world’s energy was changing.

The air grew heavier, purer, stronger as if someone had opened a door to an ancient ocean of power that had been locked away. The thin black mist around the garden suddenly spun faster, forced by an invisible gust. The faint purple snow on the mountain peaks behind Nocture began to glow brighter; the crystals on the slopes blinked like awakening eyes.

Sylvia took a long breath. A cold exhale left her lips and formed white vapor that vanished quickly.

"This time... the gods, angels, demons, and upper-mid-tier monsters can descend to earth," she murmured softly, her voice almost inaudible. "The world has opened its gates again."

Noir growled louder, his small body trembling as he prepared to grow larger. The treant’s small branch plopped once more, but this time the sound was tense like a warning.

The third tremor struck harder. This time the entire Nocture shook. In the distance, the sound of cracking stone echoed from the castle towers. Lycanthrope guards at the gate shouted in alarm, several black roses in the garden swayed until their petals fell. The cloudy sky above the city suddenly split open with unnatural golden and blood-red flashes, not ordinary lightning, but a sign that the boundary between the divine realm and the mortal world had cracked.

Sylvia stood slowly. Her black cloak billowed even though the wind wasn’t strong. She looked up at the sky; the Chain of Abyss trembled violently on her wrist, as if thirsty for blood.

Suddenly, a thunderous voice boomed over Nocture a voice that was neither human nor monster, but the voice of a god.

"Citizens of Nocture! City of darkness! Bow before my power!"

The voice echoed from the sky, carrying a fierce wind that made the black mist whirl wildly. Above the castle, a huge figure emerged from a golden rift that had split the clouds. His body was tall and muscular, clad in a pale-blue wind robe that fluttered like a living storm. His wings were made of wind itself, his green eyes blazing like lightning. In his hand he held a long staff tipped with spinning wind.

Aeolus, the wind god from the Greek pantheon. One of the minor gods who had been sealed in the divine realm after the world fusion. Now he had descended, his body radiating pure wind power that turned the air around Nocture into small tornadoes.

"Surrender the Queen of Death and the Spear of Lucifer!" he roared again, his voice shaking the castle walls. "Or I will destroy this city with an eternal storm!"

Below, the lycanthrope guards howled in rage, shadow elves raised crystal bows, and dwarves rushed to defensive positions. But before they could move, before Sylvia could even lift her hand

Stacia had already appeared.

From the highest balcony of the castle, Stacia stepped forward. Her long ash-gray hair whipped wildly, her black eyes cold and starless. Her six black angel wings spread wide. In her hands, an ancient spellbook opened by itself, its parchment pages flipping rapidly as if blown by an unseen wind. Alicia floated beside her, her spirit body shimmering blue-silver, her hands raised to grant Stacia maximum offensive buffs. Dark purple spirit light merged with Stacia’s body, making her magical aura explode with even greater power.

Stacia raised her right hand. Her voice was cold, emotionless, yet clearly heard all the way to the sky.

"Burn."

A giant fireball appeared above the castle, not an ordinary fireball, but a black one that spun like a small black hole, sucking in the surrounding air with a hissing sound. The sphere was larger than the castle tower; its heat could be felt all the way to the back garden where Sylvia stood.

Aeolus’s eyes widened. "What is this..."

BOOM!!!

The black fireball shot upward at unimaginable speed and slammed into Aeolus’s body without mercy. A massive explosion shook all of Nocture. Black-purple light illuminated the night, and waves of heat swept across the city like a firestorm. Aeolus’s wind spun wildly for a moment, trying to resist, but the flames were too strong, too pure, too ferocious.

In an instant, the wind god’s body was burned to nothing. His wind wings vanished, his staff melted, and his scream was swallowed by the explosion. There was no trace left, only black ashes scattered in the sky, then devoured by Nocture’s mist.

The sky fell silent once more. The golden rift that had opened it closed tightly. Nocture returned to calm, as if the god had never descended.

In the back garden, Sylvia looked upward. The giant fireball had disappeared, but the lingering heat still hung in the air. Noir growled softly once, not a threat, but satisfaction. The treant’s small branch plopped again, this time more slowly, as if stunned.

Sofia ran out of the castle, her golden hair disheveled, her golden eyes wide. "Sylvia! What was that?!"

Sylvia stood slowly and raised her hand to touch Sofia’s pale cheek. "Stacia and Alicia. They took care of it."

Sofia breathed a sigh of relief, but her eyes were still full of worry. "A god... really descended. And died instantly. This... this means the world gates are truly wide open now."

Sylvia nodded slightly. "Yes. And this is only the beginning."

On the high balcony, Stacia closed her spellbook slowly. Alicia floated beside her, her spirit body still glowing after delivering the maximum buff.

"It’s finished," Stacia said flatly, as if she had only turned one page of a novel. "Aeolus is dead. But there will definitely be others."

Alicia nodded. "The world’s energy is becoming purer. Stronger. More gods, demons, and angels will be able to descend. We must prepare Nocture for a larger war."

Stacia looked toward the back garden where Sylvia and Sofia stood. "The Queen surely already knows. She won’t stay silent."

In the garden below, Sylvia gently hugged Sofia. Noir growled low, ready to protect. The treant’s small branch plopped once more, as if trying to calm them.

Sylvia gazed at the sky, now thick with dark clouds again. Her red eyes glowed coldly, yet full of determination.

"The world wants to play again," she murmured softly. "Fine. Let’s play."

Noir roared softly in agreement. Sofia gripped Sylvia’s hand tighter.

...

In a faraway place, in the depths of the underworld untouched by sunlight, the atmosphere was completely different. A grand hall of black obsidian and pale bones stretched wide, lit only by eternal green flames floating in the air like giant fireflies. Massive pillars carved with silently screaming soul faces lined the hall, and the cold black-ice floor reflected shadows that never rested. On a throne of bones and thorny black roses that towered high, Persephone sat with her legs crossed. Her black gown flowed like night mist, and her crown of thorns and faint purple crystals gleamed on her head. Her dark-green eyes burned with wicked delight.

Before her, Aeolus’s soul hung in the air, bound by green fire chains that wrapped around his now-transparent, formless body. The wind that had once been his power was now only a weak breeze making the chains sway gently. His once-proud face with storm-green eyes was now filled with fear and regret. He tried to speak, but his voice was only a stuttering wind.

Persephone laughed a clear, beautiful laugh that stabbed like black-rose thorns. "Hahaha... you dared to try to subjugate my daughter’s city," she said, leaning forward, her slender fingers touching the soul’s chin and making it shiver. "Aeolus, the arrogant little wind god. You dared come to Nocture, dared challenge Sylvia, and instead you were instantly killed by the fire of her two sisters. How amusing."

Aeolus tried to beg, his voice cracking like wind trapped in stone cracks. "Persephone... Queen of the Underworld... I... I didn’t know... forgive me... I only..."

Persephone cut him off with a single finger movement. The green fire in the chains flared brighter, making Aeolus’s soul scream silently. "Forgive? You think I would forgive someone who dared touch what belongs to my daughter? Nocture is her home. Sylvia is my daughter. And you... you are nothing but dust that dared to blow on that dust."

She stood slowly, her black gown flowing like midnight water. Her steps made no sound as she approached the hanging soul. "But since you’ve already come here... I will take care of you myself. Because of your courage or your stupidity I will give you endless torment. You will feel the wind you once controlled turn against you. Every gust will tear your soul, every storm will burn your memories... forever."

Aeolus screamed again, but his voice vanished before it could be heard. Persephone raised her hand, and from the darkness behind the throne emerged a tall, thin figure in pitch-black robes Thanatos, the god of death himself. His eyes were empty like black holes, and his pale hand gripped a great scythe that reflected no light.

"Drag him away," Persephone ordered sweetly. "To the eternal wind torture chamber. Let him feel what it means to challenge my family."

Thanatos did not speak. He simply stepped forward, his scythe touching the green fire chains. Aeolus’s soul was yanked forcefully; his transparent body shook violently, his mouth wide open in a silent scream. He tried to struggle, tried to summon his last wind, but nothing remained. Thanatos dragged him into the darkness behind the hall, down corridors no living eye had ever seen, into rooms where time had no meaning and torment never ended.

Persephone returned to her throne and crossed her legs once more. She smiled faintly, her fingers touching the thorn crown on her head.

"The Underworld has belonged to me for a long time," she murmured softly, as if speaking to herself. "And anyone who dares touch Nocture... will end up just like him."