Alaric stood in the center of the throne hall, his new body exuding faint violet steam whenever it touched the cold air. He no longer felt the lightness he had as a spirit; instead, he felt every grain of dust in "Ocasia" as if it were part of his nerves. Standing on the ground was not merely standing—it was bonding. The stone beneath his feet softened slightly to support him, and the walls emitted a low hum, welcoming back their lord.
Eleanor looked at him in astonishment, wiping the blood from her forehead. "Alaric… Is it really you?"
Alaric extended his hand—which looked as though it had been carved from polished volcanic rock—and helped her to her feet. "I am here, and forever, Eleanor. There is no longer any separation between the king and his land. I have become the vessel that carries this city's pain and its strength."
But the moment did not last long. The sound of the silver war horn that boomed across the sky was not merely a threat; it was the signal for the start of the "Solar Eclipse." The sun began to be obscured by artificial golden clouds, and massive winged creatures made of crystal and pure light descended from the upper atmosphere. These were the "Cherubic Legion," the elite guard of the Celestial Council, who knew neither mercy nor retreat.
"Azrail! Gather the Forgotten at the southern walls!" Alaric shouted, his voice no longer emerging solely from a human throat but echoing in the depths of the earth behind him. "Eleanor, you will need to focus your magic on protecting the civilians. The light they bring will burn eyes before hearts."
Alaric rushed toward the palace balcony, not jumping, but sliding as the stone formed a descending bridge beneath his feet, reaching the grand square in seconds. There, the people were in a panic, but the moment Alaric appeared in his fearsome new form, a solemn silence fell.
"Do not look at the sky!" Alaric cried, driving his sword "Soulgloom" into the ground. "Look at the earth beneath your feet—it will not betray you today!"
As the crystalline beings descended with their light-weapons, Alaric performed a movement impossible for his old body; he summoned the "Ash Shields." The ground beneath the refugees and the Forgotten rose, forming shields and defensive walls automatically. The soldiers no longer needed to carry heavy shields; the earth moved with them, protecting them and attacking alongside them.
Alaric engaged the first Cherub to land in the square. The creature radiated scorching light, but Alaric, with his body made of the city's clay and salt, absorbed that light and converted it into heat that strengthened his body. He seized the crystalline being's neck, and with a single squeeze, shattered the light into dull fragments.
"You call this order?" Alaric growled, carving a path through the celestial legions. "I call it a gilded prison, and Ocasia is the hammer that will shatter it."
Meanwhile, Eleanor led the women and children toward the catacombs, using her scarf to weave a canopy of truth that blocked the celestial frequencies attempting to wash over human minds. But she noticed something suspicious; certain black shadows were slinking through the chaos—shadows that belonged neither to light nor void.
"Scepter…" Eleanor whispered with anger. "He is using the battle to poison the city's 'Roots' while Alaric is busy with the sky."
Chapter Fifty-One ended with the beginning of the first great epic of the "Incarnate King" against the celestial army, while the threads of ancient treachery coiled around the city's foundations, presenting Alaric with an impossible choice: defend the sky or purify the earth?
Will Alaric abandon the front lines to save the Roots, or will he trust Eleanor and Azrail to deal with the shadows?