Blood apostle
Chapter 87

Chapter 87 - 87

Cadelon Hole – Descent Level Two

The second threshold swallowed Kiro in silence.

The path wound through petrified roots and veins of silver-glass, deep beneath the scorched surface of Vevadexus — the trial world chosen not just for war, but for what slept beneath it.

His breath was shallow. The weight of memory pressed down as time unraveled around him.

Each step echoed backward.

The shard in his palm pulsed — not with pain, but expectation.

"The Archive does not speak," the Naught had told him back on Nightfell."It remembers. And what it remembers... it judges."

The stairway opened into a black stone plateau shaped like a shattered sundial. In the center, a floating crystal prism pulsed with ancient script, suspended above a molten altar of glyphs.

As Kiro approached, the prism shimmered.

And without warning—

It activated.

God-Spoken Archive – Memory Unlocked

The world convulsed, folding into itself.

Memory surged.

He stood now in a massive throne room. A boy — no older than twelve — knelt as fire consumed a funeral pyre behind him. The corpse of a woman, still dressed in imperial garb, smoldered in silence.

"Let him rule. He's already lost everything," said a faceless voice.

The child rose. And the crown — a web of black metal and memory — descended onto his head.

The name echoed:

Lucius Karo.

Kiro gasped. The last emperor. The one whose death began the chaos... and the Trials.

The shard in his hand pulsed faster — not just reacting, but pulling him deeper. The vision shattered—

Descent Breach – Niro of Sparka Arrives

A flash of blue fire tore through the upper tunnel.

Niro of Sparka — the youngest, wildest of the thirteen heirs — landed with a hiss of static. His armor shimmered with Sparkan phase-charging, face lit by the thrill of defiance.

"Kiro," he sneered. "You thought you'd get all the glory down here?"

He pulled his dual-ended staff from his back. Kinetic fire danced along its surface.

Kiro's gaze hardened. "This isn't a battlefield, Niro. This is something older."

Niro laughed. "Exactly. And I intend to survive whatever it is and win."

Kiro narrowed his eyes. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Then stop me."

But the Archive had already responded.

Archive Reaction: Inheritance Breach

[Warning: Dual-Bloodline Conflict Detected][God-Spoken Archive Activation Protocol – Blood Threshold Incomplete][Override: Forced Trial Initiated to Accelerate Awakening][Memory Lock Engaged – Kiro Subject Prime]

The sundial beneath them split open.

Kiro and Niro plummeted into blinding memory—Down through history's veins, toward something forgotten.

Trial Realm – Battle of the Fractured Moon

They landed in a crater of bone and broken metal. Above them, two titanic figures warred in the sky — one cloaked in golden light, the other in writhing Void.

Ships burned. Moons cracked. The air reeked of old blood and betrayal.

The Archive spoke with layered voices:

"One killed for dominion.""One died for peace.""Choose your reflection."

Kiro's shard ignited — forming a blade shaped from half light, half shadow.

Niro roared — his staff transformed into a chained spear wreathed in plasma arcs.

"We finish this now, dream or not!"

They charged.

Above – Vevadexus Prime Surface

The High Minister of the Kargal Empire stood atop the Grand Tower of Writ, staring at the massive hologlyph of the God-Spoken Archive slowly activating deep beneath the surface.

Behind him, generals murmured, watching battle-screens as heirs clashed across the continent.

The Minister didn't blink.

"The Archive is almost awake," he said.

A servant trembled beside him. "But the Apostle was never found. Without one—"

"Enough blood will open it regardless," the Minister whispered. "The Trials were never for unity. They were for awakening. Let them bleed. Let the heirs suffer. It is the only way."

He turned.

"We've waited centuries for the Archive to speak again."

"And if it must do so in the language of war—so be it."

Meanwhile – In the Depths

Kiro and Niro clashed among dead suns and phantom warriors. Each blow shook the memory. Each strike brought more visions:

A young god offering a blade to a mortal boy.

A burning throne built from star-wreckage.

A name whispered by a voice deeper than time:

"You will not survive unless you become more than human."