Level Up Legacy-Chapter 1204 A Celestial Angel

Arthur's Kingdom of Wrath tore open, and a wave of vengeful spirits crashed into the Empyrean's monstrous creations. Each soul screamed for the justice they'd been denied, their raw fury a weapon against the cosmic abominations. It wasn't a battle of tactics; it was chaos incarnate, a clash of wills that shredded the very fabric of reality.

The Empyrean reveled in the destruction; his eyes wild with a madman's glee. "These creatures embody entire worlds I've devoured! Your pathetic rebellion is nothing against such power!" He held up the glowing cage – the source of his monstrous minions – a cruel trophy collection of broken realms.

Suddenly, the Empyrean's focus shifted. "Ah, so the alchemist escaped? It matters not. He cannot hide from my sight!" A sinister smile touched his lips. "I'll simply paint a trap, a vision in the past, something he'll walk into blindly."

Arthur's heart twisted. He knew the power of time manipulation, the despair of walking into a pre-laid trap. A rage so absolute exploded within him that the clashing spirits faltered for a moment.

"You dare threaten those I protect?" Arthur's voice was the rumble of a volcano moments before eruption. "I've defied fate itself – do you truly think your schemes can stop me?"

His power surged, black lightning crackling in the air, infused with the fury of the storm. The world itself shuddered beneath his will. "You obsess over the worlds you've broken…" He took a step forward, the ground beneath him shattering. "…perhaps it's yours that will crack first."

A mocking laugh cut through the chaos, the Empyrean's twisted visage a mask of arrogance. "Foolish outsider! You have yet to see the true breadth of my reach."

He raised a gnarled hand, and the battlefield itself seemed to still. The spectral clash faded, as did the writhing, cosmic abominations. The very air thrummed with a new, alien presence.

A figure coalesced from the swirling temporal distortions – not a monster this time, but a slender form draped in shimmering silk. Massive, feathered wings, pure as freshly fallen snow, unfolded behind her. Yet, it was the face that chilled Arthur – a mask of perfect, emotionless metal, hiding an unsettling beauty. This was no creation of stolen starlight, but something far more potent.

"Behold," the Empyrean rasped, a tremor of unholy delight in his voice, "an emissary of Devaheim – a celestial being bound to my will. You have faced one of their kind before, yes? Shackled by the pathetic curses of the Red Tower, weakened, diminished." He sneered. "This one knows no such limitations. Here, in this world, she is as close to a goddess as a mortal could comprehend."

A smirk bloomed on Arthur's face. "And send them my regards."

As the world-ending blast surged forward, the angel didn't fight. She didn't scream, didn't raise any futile defenses. The space around her warped and shimmered, and in a blink, she vanished - snatched back to her celestial realm not through skill or power, but by a desperate plea to whatever gods listened to a failed emissary.

The orb of destruction dissipated harmlessly into the churning black clouds. Arthur lowered his hand, and for a moment, the only sound was the relentless beat of the storm, every rumble a promise that this clash was far from over.

Silence fell like shattered glass upon the ravaged Giant Garden. The Empyrean stood frozen, his eyes wide behind the swirling temporal distortions clinging to him. His moment of triumph had curdled into a shock he couldn't fully comprehend.

The angel… she had fled. Not in a tactical retreat, but in sheer, unadulterated terror. A celestial being, the embodiment of divine order, had broken beneath the unbridled fury of the outsider.

"Impossible…" he choked out, the manic energy that had pulsed around him faltering. "It took ages… lifetimes of study, forbidden bargains struck, sacrifices I cannot even name…all to forge a link, a sliver of control over one of their number… and you…you.."

His rant was cut short as the air thrummed with fresh power. Arthur wasn't pausing, wasn't giving the Empyrean a moment to recover or summon some new monstrous trick from his seemingly endless arsenal. He descended, no longer merely a man, but a titan clad in black stormclouds, the Kingdom of Wrath made manifest.

"You spoke of broken worlds, old man," Arthur's voice boomed, echoing the ceaseless thunderclaps. "I'll give you a glimpse of one that refuses to shatter."

He didn't unleash a single devastating lightning bolt. Instead, the gates of his spectral kingdom swung wide once more. A torrent of vengeful souls poured forth, not a mindless wave this time, but an organized force infused with Arthur's own relentless will. Each soul clutched bolts of raw, crackling energy within their spectral hands – chaotic projectiles shaped from the black stormclouds, potent enough to rip holes in the very fabric of reality.

The Empyrean, his godhood shattered, faced a devastating counterstrike. No escape, no time for magic. The Kingdom of Wrath, a storm of spirits and lightning, slammed into him, threatening to consume everything.

This was the wrath of a man who would defy any god, break any chain, and burn the world to ash if it dared threaten those he swore to protect. And in that singular moment, as reality buckled and howled around the clashing titans, the Empyrean of Yalen knew one chilling truth: he had awoken a monster he could not control.