SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 99: The Seven Angel Statues

Chapter 99: The Seven Angel Statues

The once chaotic battlefield now lay quiet, the air thick with uncertainty. Morvane was long gone from sight, but none of the rulers paid attention anymore. Their focus was singular: the towering figure in the distance, a masked angelic statue that loomed over Ketamran like an ancient sentinel.

"What... is this?" Crimson whispered, his voice betraying a mix of awe and unease.

"It’s unreal," Vianna added. "Even its toes are larger than our entire bodies."

Without hesitation, Medas lifted himself into the air with telekinesis. "I need a better view."

Levan, ever watchful, mimicked Medas’s power and levitated beside him.

"This is probably from heaven," Levan speculated, his voice grim. "I can’t think of any other explanation."

Medas furrowed his brows. "There were seven thuds earlier." His expression darkened. "Which means there must be six more statues like this. One in each kingdom."

Ikana, still on the ground, clenched her fists and ascended with a burst of energy. "I agree," she said, her voice steady despite the unease. "From my evaluation, the energy signatures align perfectly across Baltalaha."

As if drawn by an unspoken call, the rulers gathered at the foot of the enormous statue. Its masked face looked down upon them as though judging their every breath. The trumpet in its hand shimmered faintly, exuding a presence that felt both divine and catastrophic.

"What does it mean?" Dergo asked, breaking the silence. His normally confident voice was laced with doubt. "What are we supposed to do?"

The tension grew thicker. None of the rulers had ever seen anything like this in their lifetimes.

Levan crossed his arms, his gaze hardened. "This is why we need control. Chaos is erupting across the kingdoms, and now this?" He pointed at Medas. "If you had handed over Morvane earlier, we wouldn’t be in this mess."

Medas’s eyes flared. "Don’t blame this on me! You’re just too blind to see that imprisoning a child wouldn’t solve anything. Maybe if you stopped trying to play God, you’d actually understand that."

Levan’s voice grew colder. "And maybe if you weren’t so naïve, you’d know that sacrifices are sometimes necessary."

Their voices echoed against the stone statue, escalating with each word.

"You think you have all the answers, don’t you?" Medas sneered. "Copying powers doesn’t make you wise."

"And hiding in your garden palace doesn’t make you brave," Levan shot back.

Before the argument could spiral further, Vianna stepped between them, her eyes blazing with authority. "Enough!" she commanded, her voice vibrating with emotional power. "We don’t have time for this petty nonsense."

Crimson added, his katana still in hand, "She’s right. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than Morvane. Bigger than any of us."

Deus, chewing on yet another piece of jerky, shrugged. "Yeah, fighting each other won’t stop that thing from blowing its trumpet."

Ikana’s expression was grave. "We need to figure out what these statues are for. If one appears in each kingdom, then something massive is happening."

A heavy silence fell upon them. The rulers, despite their differences, knew one thing: this was no coincidence.

As they stood at the foot of the statue, questions filled their minds.

What was this masked angel? Why had seven of them descended upon Baltalaha? And what judgment did they bring?

The answers would soon unravel—but none of them were prepared for what was coming.

The soft, enchanting melody of a harp began to fill the air. At first, it was beautiful, soothing even. But as seconds passed, the sound grew louder, sharper, and more unbearable. It resonated through the land, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.

"What... is that sound?" Dergo shouted, clutching his ears.

Vianna, her sharp eyes darting toward the distance, noticed one of the towering statues in the direction of the sound. "It’s coming from another statue!" she exclaimed.

Deus’s eyes widened as realization struck him. "That’s the direction of my kingdom!"

The seven rulers turned to look in horror as the ground quaked harder, the vibrations matching the eerie rhythm of the harp. The intensity of the sound continued to rise, and then, from the heavens, a small meteor pierced through the clouds, blazing with crimson fire.

"No... no!" Deus roared, his voice echoing with rage and fear.

The rulers watched, frozen for a moment, as the meteor hurtled directly toward Deus’s kingdom. It descended with terrifying speed, a streak of destruction blazing across the sky. The impact was catastrophic, a deafening explosion shaking the very air as it struck the heart of Deus’s territory.

A massive cloud of dust and fire rose into the sky, visible even from Ketamran. The shockwave followed, rumbling the earth beneath their feet and sending tremors through their hearts.

"Is this divine punishment?" Ikana whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos.

Medas wasted no time. He flew into the air, scanning the horizon. What he saw chilled him to the bone.

"There are seven statues," he said, his voice laced with urgency. "Each holding a unique instrument. The one near Deus’s kingdom—it’s playing the harp!"

The other rulers exchanged horrified glances.

Levan gritted his teeth and turned to Deus. "We need to go now."

Without waiting for an answer, Levan used his levitation ability to lift Deus and Dergo into the air. Medas, realizing the urgency, extended his telekinesis to carry Crimson, while Ikana used her levitation to take Vianna.

They ascended together, their focus solely on Deus’s kingdom, where the aftermath of the meteor’s impact painted a grim picture.

As they flew closer, the scene became clearer. The once-thriving kingdom was now engulfed in flames, smoke rising to the heavens like a desperate plea for mercy. Cracks spread across the ground like jagged scars, and the cries of its people echoed faintly in the distance.

Deus, his fists clenched tightly, could barely contain his anguish. "Why? Why my kingdom?"

Levan, his usual composure slipping, muttered, "This isn’t random. These statues... these instruments... they’re targeting us."

Ikana nodded grimly. "Seven statues. Seven instruments. Seven rulers. This isn’t coincidence—it’s a message."

"A message or a warning?" Vianna asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Medas’s eyes narrowed. "We’ll find out soon enough. But first, we need to save whoever we can."

The seven rulers descended upon the burning ruins of Deus’s kingdom, their earlier tensions momentarily forgotten. The devastation was unlike anything they had ever seen, and the harp’s melody still lingered faintly in the air, a haunting reminder of the destruction it had wrought.

Whatever these statues were, one thing was clear: this was only the beginning.

As the smoke from the devastated Baltalaha hung heavy in the air, Ikana, Vianna, Dergo, and Deus raced through the ruins, focusing on rescuing the survivors. The cries of injured Baltalahans echoed around them.

Ikana’s probability manipulation allowed her to predict where buildings were likely to collapse, guiding people to safety. Vianna used her adrenaline-boosted strength to lift rubble and stabilize structures. Dergo, with his unmatched strength, cleared debris with ease. Deus, though visibly shaken, carried injured people to safety, his strength fueled by rage and purpose.

Amid the chaos, Crimson, Levan, and Medas had a different mission. They headed directly toward the towering angel statue that had played the harp—a figure now motionless and silent.

The once-majestic figure now appeared foreboding, its presence heavy with unease.

"We need to stop this thing from ever playing again," Crimson said, gripping his katana tightly. "But how do we beat something like this?"

"With our power," Medas said resolutely.

He raised his hand, focusing his telekinesis on the angel’s towering face. His energy wrapped around the mask, trying to pry it loose. The statue resisted, its mask seemingly fused with its form.

"It’s too strong," Medas grunted.

Levan, who had copied Medas’s telekinesis, hovered beside him. "I’ll help."

The two rulers poured their combined strength into the effort. The air crackled with energy as they strained against the unyielding mask. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, but neither relented.

Minutes passed, each second filled with tension. Finally, with a deafening crack, the mask began to shift. Stone crumbled and dust filled the air as the mask detached from the angel’s face.

It fell to the ground with a thunderous crash, shattering into countless pieces.

But their triumph was short-lived.

As the dust settled, the three rulers froze in shock.

The angel’s true face was now revealed—a grotesque, eerie visage that seemed to stare directly into their souls. Its eyes were hollow yet piercing, filled with an unspoken fury. Its mouth was twisted into a grimace that radiated anger and contempt.

A chilling sensation swept over them, as though the very air had turned cold. Crimson’s grip on his katana tightened.

"What... is that?" Levan whispered, his voice barely audible.

Medas’s face was pale. "I don’t know... but it looks... angry."

The face seemed to radiate a malevolent energy, as if the statue itself was alive and aware of their presence.

Crimson, his voice strained, spoke urgently. "Cover that face again! Now!"

Medas’s eyes widened. "Why?"

"We don’t know what its capabilities are," Crimson said sharply. "And that face... it’s creepy as hell."

Levan nodded, his usual arrogance replaced by unease. "It feels like it’s looking straight into my soul."

They scrambled to find a way to cover the face, but the shattered mask was beyond repair. As they stood there, unsure of their next move, a low, ominous hum began to emanate from the statue.

The angel’s eyes flickered, faintly glowing with a malevolent light.

Crimson’s voice was firm. "We need to act fast. Whatever this thing is, it’s waking up."

Medas’s telekinesis sparked to life. "Then we take it down before it fully awakens."

The rulers braced themselves, knowing that whatever was coming next would test their powers—and their resolve—like never before.