Chapter 379 - 374: Live

Aiden dropped to his knees in the rubble of the cathedral nave. The entity’s avatar had shattered like glass under the final chain of hybrid energy. Dust and shards of corrupted light still rained down.

His body felt split in two—human meat and something far colder, far hungrier, now locked together by fresh bindings that burned every time he breathed.

He clenched his fist. Power surged up his arm, raw and obedient but edged with pain, like gripping a live blade. Not bad. He looked at the collapsed eastern wall where Morten’s final barrage had punched through.

With a casual push of will, hybrid energy poured out. Black and gold strands wove together, pulling stone back into place with grinding cracks.

Chunks lifted, mortar reformed, and in seconds a section of wall stood again—uglier than before, veined with dark lines, but solid.

Aiden stood up. Stronger. Definitely stronger.

Catherine limped toward him first. Her hair had gone silver at the temples. New lines cut across her face and the backs of her hands where the anchoring ritual had taken its price.

She looked older, harder, like a blade that had been reforged too many times. Flora walked beside her, one hand on her mother’s arm.

"Mom," Flora said quietly.

Catherine stopped a few paces from Aiden. She studied him, then pulled Flora into a tight hug.

"You did it. Both of you. I felt every second of that thing trying to tear you apart." Her voice cracked but didn’t break. "Flora... you kept a piece of it. I can see it in your eyes."

Flora’s irises had darkened to near-black with faint golden flecks that moved on their own. She didn’t flinch.

"It’s contained. I chose the shape it takes now. Not the other way around." She looked up at her mother. "I’m not the same girl you raised. But I’m still yours. I’m choosing to stay."

Catherine exhaled a long breath and pressed her forehead to Flora’s. "Then we face whatever comes next together. Scars and all." She glanced at Aiden. "You chained it. Good. Now don’t let it chain you."

Aiden gave a short nod. The respect in her eyes felt heavier than any power spike.

Shouts came from the transept. Isolde and Calipso dragged a bloodied Sabrina between them. Sabrina’s armor hung in tatters, one arm limp, face swollen.

She had gone full berserker in the final minutes, smashing through everything the entity threw at her. Now she looked half-dead.

They lowered her onto a relatively clear patch of floor. Sabrina’s eyes fluttered open. She coughed, tasted blood, and grinned anyway. "Tell me I looked like a legend. I went out swinging, right? Tell me the bards will sing about it."

"You looked insane," Aiden said, crouching beside her. "And you’re not dead. So keep it that way."

Sabrina laughed, winced, then laughed again. "Addiction’s gone. Burned it all out. Feels like shit, but clean shit." She grabbed his wrist with her good hand.

"Don’t baby me later. I’m still your hammer. Just... maybe a lighter one for a week."

Calipso wiped sweat and grime from her face. "She’ll live. Stubbornness is a hell of a healing factor." Isolde only grunted approval, her own blades still dripping.

Bela approached from the altar steps. Her robes were scorched but her posture had changed—straighter, calmer, like the domain she had thrown over the battlefield had settled into her bones.

"The hybrid faith has its first real miracle today," she said. "You bound an outer god. They’ll follow you for that alone."

Aiden rose. The remaining loyalists of Morten’s faction were being rounded up. Some knelt already.

Others stood with weapons lowered, faces blank with shock. Morten himself lay near the center of the nave, chest caved in, eyes staring at the shattered dome above.

Aiden walked over. The cathedral was quiet enough now to hear boots crunching on glass and stone. He stopped above the body.

"Morten believed in his Church until the end," Aiden said, loud enough for the prisoners and survivors to hear.

"He thought order meant control. Purity meant no compromise. He was wrong, but he wasn’t a coward. The old Church dies with him today.

No more inquisitions. No more burning people for being born different. We keep what was useful—structure, protection, law. The rest gets buried here."

He looked at the kneeling soldiers. "Serve or leave. Those who stay answer to me. Those who go get one day’s head start. Choose."

Most dropped their weapons. A few slipped toward side exits. No one stopped them.

Elizabeth emerged from the shadows near the choir stalls. She moved like the fight had barely touched her, though Aiden could see fresh bruises under her collar. She stopped a respectful distance away, eyes measuring him openly.

"You did what I couldn’t," she said. "Impressive." A small smile. "My legions are yours if you want them. Supplies, men, political cover in the south. In return, I want a formal alliance.

Marriage would seal it cleanly. Shared power, shared bed, shared enemies." Her gaze flicked to Catherine, then back. "On your terms, of course. I’m not stupid enough to demand more right now."

Aiden met her stare. Heat rolled between them—ambition, respect, and something sharper. "Alliance yes. Marriage later, if it makes sense. You get a seat at the table.

I keep final say. Try to stab me in the back and the chains I just used on that thing will find a new home."

Elizabeth’s smile widened. "Fair." She stepped closer, close enough that he caught the scent of smoke and steel on her. "We’ll talk details when the dust settles."

Aiden felt the new power thrum in agreement. Painful, yes. But his.

Dawn light started filtering through the broken dome. The cathedral looked like a warzone—cracked pillars, bloodstains, hybrid veins running through stone like new arteries. Yet it stood. His.

Flora stayed near her mother but kept glancing at Aiden with those changed eyes. Sabrina was already trying to sit up despite Calipso’s protests.

Isolde cleaned her blades with mechanical focus. Bela began organizing the survivors into work crews. Catherine watched everything with the quiet ferocity of someone who had paid in years and would pay more if needed.

Aiden rolled his shoulders. The chains inside him held. For now.

Then it came.

A low pulse rolled out from the distant Sky Dungeon. Deeper than before. Not the wild thrashing of the entity he had just bound—this felt deliberate. Intelligent. Like something massive turning its head to look directly at him.

Elizabeth’s expression sharpened. "That’s new. Whatever you chained had a brother. Or a master. The real war didn’t end today, Aiden. It just announced itself."

Aiden stared toward the horizon where the Dungeon floated above the mountains. The pulse came again, steady, patient.

He smiled thinly.

"Let it come," he said. "We’ve got chains ready."

The first rays of true dawn hit the rebuilt wall, lighting up the dark veins running through the stone. The cathedral groaned as it settled into its new shape. So did everything else.

Aiden turned back to the people around him—his people now. "Get the wounded inside. Start clearing bodies. We have a city to run."

No one argued.