The Heavenly Demon of Terror-Chapter 305: Coming Back To Oblivion World

Samuel's POV

Oblivion World – Edge of the Abyssal Spires

The sky here never changed—eternally bruised, stitched with cracks of crimson lightning. The winds howled like damned spirits. We were back.

The portal sealed behind us in a ripple of black fire, and the scent of ash and frost filled my lungs again. The moment my boots hit the scorched ground, I felt that shift—the gravity, the pressure of Oblivion settling on my bones like armor. This place had a soul, and it was rotten with power.

Roselle walked ahead of me, her black cloak trailing like smoke, her bare shoulders radiant beneath the twin moons overhead. Every step she took sent tiny ripples through the shadows. It wasn't just magic—it was dominance. Even the land knew not to defy her.

"You could take this realm by force," I muttered, watching her profile under the moonlight.

She smiled without turning. "Of course I could. But ruling and conquering are two different beasts, Samuel. And beasts like us... we're better when we tame the storm instead of becoming it."

Cryptic. Always cryptic.

We reached the platform near the edge of the Abyssal Spires—dark towers that reached like broken fingers into the sky. From here, a direct path led to Nerezza's throne room, guarded by specters that bent the air around them.

Roselle slowed, then turned to face me fully. The cold wind tugged her long black hair to the side, revealing her crimson eyes and that familiar half-smirk that meant trouble was near.

"I don't just want to talk to Nerezza," she said, voice low. "I want to offer her a pact. A merge of empires."

I blinked. "You mean to unite Human Realm's shadow factions with Oblivion?"

She nodded. "But more than that—Nerezza wants something. Something she's never been able to achieve alone. And I have leverage. I have knowledge."

"And me," I said.

She grinned. "Exactly. You've fought her Right Wing and survived. That makes you valuable."

I folded my arms. "So what do you need me to do? Challenge her? Assassinate someone? Steal a relic?"

Roselle stepped closer, eyes sharp. "Nerezza's not one to be impressed by words or thrones. She respects strength... but what she fears is prophecy. And you, Samuel, you've been written in the old texts of this world—though no one remembers how. They call you the Harbinger Returned. I want her to see that it's true."

I raised an eyebrow. "So I'm a walking myth now?"

"You always were," she whispered. "In every life."

For a moment, there was silence. Just the wind howling across the plains, and the flicker of my status window glowing faintly beside my vision.

I checked my gear. Tightened the gauntlets. Recalibrated my shadow runes. The Queen of Oblivion wouldn't tolerate weakness—and while I didn't care about thrones or alliances, I did care about surviving. About getting stronger. About the path forward.

"I hope this deal of yours is worth it," I said.

Roselle turned her back to me again, stepping toward the shimmering gates in the distance. Her voice floated back through the wind.

"If it works... it could change everything. If it fails... well, you've faced worse gods than Nerezza, haven't you?"

I smirked. "Barely."

And with that, we walked toward the throne of the Pale Queen.

________________________________________

Location: Outside the Throne Chamber of Queen Nerezza – The Pale Sanctum, Oblivion World

Samuel's POV

The air was heavy here, like it knew secrets no living thing should hear.

We stood at the foot of an obsidian staircase that coiled upward into the gloom, lit by dying embers that hovered midair like lost souls. Ahead, two towering doors carved from bone and shadow pulsed with a heartbeat that didn't belong to this world. Nerezza was waiting.

Roselle stood beside me, arms folded, her black cloak fluttering like wings of night. Her crimson eyes didn't blink. She was calm. Too calm.

"Last chance to tell me what kind of madness you're dragging me into," I muttered, adjusting the gauntlet on my right hand.

She glanced at me, lips twitching into a smirk. "Oh please, Samuel. Since when have you needed full context to jump into danger headfirst?"

"Tch. Doesn't mean I enjoy walking blind into a Goddess's lair."

"Nerezza isn't a goddess," she said softly. "She's a widow."

I narrowed my eyes. "A widow?"

"She calls herself the Widow of Realms. She married Death once... and survived. That alone should tell you what kind of creature we're dealing with."

I gave a low whistle. "So... you're telling me she's stronger than the rumors?"

"She's older than the concept of conquest itself. But she's not invincible. She's tired. And that's where our leverage lies."

I stared at her for a moment. "You still haven't told me what she wants. Or why she'll listen to you."

Roselle stepped forward, brushing invisible dust from her shoulder. "Because I'm not here as a conqueror or as a queen. I'm here as someone who understands loss, power, and the cost of silence. We're alike in many ways—me and Nerezza. And she'll see that."

"Hmm."

"And you," she added, turning to me, "are proof that power can reincarnate, adapt, evolve. You're the anomaly this world hasn't accounted for."

"Glad to be your living exhibit," I said dryly.

She smirked. "You'll be more than that. Nerezza has enemies among the dimensional rulers. You've killed some of them. She knows your name."

"And yet she didn't invite me herself."

"That's where I come in," Roselle said, taking a step closer. "She'll deal with me. She respects me. And she fears what the two of us could do if united."

I raised an eyebrow. "United?"

"Don't twist my words, Samuel," she said with a knowing smile. "I'm not talking about love or loyalty. I'm talking about power. Two chaos-forged monsters standing on the same battlefield."

I gave a short laugh. "You always had a way with romance."

She shrugged. "What can I say? The battlefield's the only place I've ever respected you."

There was a pause.

Our eyes met. And for a brief second, the weight of our three lifetimes passed between us—college hallways, clashing swords in Murim, bloodstained sheets, and now... this. A new world. A new enemy. The same broken bond.

I broke the silence. "If she says no?"

Roselle's voice dropped. "Then we survive. We retreat. We wait. And if she attacks... we end her."

A quiet moment passed. I checked my mana core—fully charged. My gauntlets responded with a faint pulse.

Roselle reached out and touched my shoulder. "Whatever happens in that throne room, let me speak first. You're the sword. Let me be the shadow."

I nodded. "Fine. But if she tries anything—"

"You'll tear her heart out. I know." She smiled like a devil with secrets. "Just like old times."

The doors creaked open slowly, darkness spilling out like fog.

Roselle stepped forward first. Her voice calm, powerful, deadly. "Let's go say hello to the Pale Queen."

And I followed her into the throne of Nerezza—ready for war, ready for anything.