Chapter 161: Tartarus' Doors

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The battle between them all continued to grow heated as the moments passed with haste. Alongside, each rapid exchange contributed to the further deterioration of Apollo's condition. Yet, throughout this all, Apollo remained smiling. 

The flickering aura continued to climb up his body, now nearly reaching his waist. It seemed he was hiding an attack that was not quite ready yet, but he was well aware of his current state. After all, part of his mind was forcefully converted back to its rational form by none other than Ouroboros.

"Master, you have temporarily released your seal? You know it will cost extremely large quantities of different items to resolve the issue that follows, right?" Ouroboros asked, looking at Apollo.

"Sure, I'm aware. I lost control for a moment. Actually, it wasn't me who entered this state nor do I know where the information in my mind came from. It was as if someone was testing me to see my current capabilities. As if, my mind was in a haze and trapped for someone's assessment," Apollo answered.

At the same time, he leaned back, dodging a relentless blade composed of solid wind. His gaze fell on Vellaria, which caused him to notice an unusual scowl on her face. But, it didn't match the path of her ire. Continuously, she shifted her gaze between Aeon, Claire, and Lazaro. However, her eyes remained especially long on Claire then Aeon for a nearly equal duration.

'There's anger...there's fear; it's all present on her mind. And so, she'll become my puppet,' Apollo internalized, before taking invasive action. Utilizing the Partial Shade Silhouette with the small part of his rational mind graced by Ouroboros, he broke past their defensive line. After arriving before Vellaria, Apollo grabbed her arm and wrested her away from the others. 

"What? Attack him," Lazaro bellowed. But, Apollo's movement technique—currently bolstered by the flickering dark aura around him—turned him into an existence that proved to be slippier than a loach. Due to this, Apollo arrived on the other side of the pathway unabated.

"Damn! How can't we catch him? There's 6 of us and only 2 of them!" Lazaro snarled, shooting Apollo a venomous glare.

"Uh, 5, there's 5 of us. He has Vellaria," Aeon corrected. Naturally, this minuscule nitpick only served to further frustrate Lazaro. Nevertheless, their mind changed to the important matters at hand—finding a way to stall Apollo until his body completely gave out.

Meanwhile, a much different situation took place between Vellaria and Apollo. An enrapturing gleam burst from Apollo's right eye as he looked upon her, "You harbor malign emotions towards your peers. Do you wish to see their downfall?" 

Vellaria trembled upon hearing these words. Moreover, that light Apollo sought awakened in her eyes, "Yes, it makes me sick. Just because she is more physically endowed than I am, Claire gets the attention. It was me who knew Aeon first! And Lazaro, he's just a pretentious prick—thinking he is all high and mighty."

These emotions were like music to his ears. This was his aim. Typically, when one voiced the source of their rage, hearing the words stimulated them further. Needless to say, this was the logic Apollo was currently operating on. 

"Tell me, if you had the power, what would you do?" Apollo questioned, his voice carrying an unusual tempting vibe. It tickled both her ear and emotions as his voice entered her eyes. 

Now that she looked at him, she realized, Apollo's current form carried with it the appeal of strength. And, this was what she truly wanted—more strength. Ergo, she fell into Apollo's trap without much effort needed to be expelled.

"I...I would-...would smash their faces in, and make them grovel before my feet. Then I would claim Aeon for mine right before Claire's very eyes," Vellaria answered, her reserved and oriental aura disappearing entirely. In place, only scorn was left. Her mind was contaminated and now wished to see everything burn.

"Lucky you, because I can do that for you," Apollo chuckled, pricking her forehead with his nail. The energy from her sinful thoughts translated into power that Apollo siphoned. He then fed it back to the stigmata.

At this point, from the early invocation, Apollo's copious wrath proved insufficient to fuel his power till the very end. Hence, he victimized Vellaria—the easiest target. Additionally, his mind picked up on another source of immense hatred—Typhir.

However, this time, Apollo hesitated. What he was doing now was different from what he did to Sapphyr. She was in a half-conscious state, so her mind didn't guard her emotions well. On the other hand, these people were perfectly cognizant. If he forcefully extracted this emotion, there was a chance of snatching a piece of their soul along with it.

In fact, this was what took place with Vellaria. Unbeknownst to her, she lost a piece of her familiarity with the wind. Similarly, Apollo gained that family by absorbing that fragment. Albeit subtle, there was an immediate increase in his speed. Once more, he touched on the boundary of another sin, it was just a shame he didn't possess the prerequisites to bond with another one at the moment.

Subsequently, Apollo continued to pontificate on his options. But, when his eyes fell on Aaron, he made his choice. It was unfortunate, but if he had to make some sacrifices then so be it. On his road, as long as those he deemed worthy were safe, then that was paramount to him.

In a flash, he disappeared and arrived next to Typhir, gazing into his eyes silently. Before the others could react, he exhausted a large portion of absorbed Wrath to knock away all those in confrontation with Typhir.

"Pardon my intrusion, but I must take something from you. You may come to hate me, but revenge must be exacted. For, what I am, we don't take kindly to malicious deeds being done towards us. I will make this up to you in the future, think of it as me owing you a favor," Apollo stated in a solemn yet whimsical tone.

Regardless of Typhir's answer, Apollo didn't wait for it. Identical to Vellaria, he pricked his forehead, forcefully extracting the Wrath present in Typhir. Compared to hers, it was many times greater. It appeared the qualms Typhir held against this situation was sizable, to say the least.

Once he absorbed this new set of energy, a second wave of vibrant power flowed through Apollo. Until now, less than 5 minutes had elapsed but, based on his current state, one would think he had been battling for days.

Under the Tartarean Fiend Regalia, countless molten wounds opened up. Although it inhibited his movements, Apollo concealed it to the best of his abilities. However, he understood his current state was far from desirable.

'I must resort to one last strike,' Apollo thought to himself. In addition to the two Wrath-based techniques in his mind, there was another. However, according to the information provided—it was lethal. So much so, there was even a warning for him. Not only would it accrue certain destruction, but he was also included. Unless luck was on his side, victory could become pyrrhic.

Unfortunately, this was a gamble Apollo was willing to bank on. Every morsel of his aura reigned in and congregated at his heart—not his true one—but the Infant Heart of Wrath. As it did so, it spun and became increasingly volatile.

"Let's play a game, shall we? I wonder, will we survive?" Apollo smiled darkly. At the same time, the scythe in his hands dissipated before raising his palms to his heart. 

Everyone's eyes widened. The look in Apollo's eyes, it was one found when one came to terms with death! In other words, whatever he was utilizing, it would most likely if not certainly result in a horrific situation.

Surprisingly, instead of obsidian flames, pure silvery flames sparked from his body, igniting a calm aura. Yet, that calm seemed all the more murderous than the hostile black flames.

"Retreat! RUNNN!" Lazaro bellowed. Without hesitation, all of the Glories dashed into the distance. However, this was all calculated by Apollo. The dome around them wasn't as simple as they thought. That thread that fell down gave him supreme control of it.

Thus, Apollo opened a small pocket expelling Aaron's as well as Typhir's body from the Wrath's Blanket. Now, there was only Apollo and the other Glories left inside.

Therefore, it marked the time to make his move, "All of you in this world look down upon those who are of lower births! Now...taste their aggravation, their hatred—witness their ire! Hellfire Aggravation: Tartarus' Gates."

Apollo slammed his hands against the floor. His power flowed through both him and it, forming two colossal silvery doors etched with overbearing symbols, each emanating a dreadful heat. As the Glories gazed upon it, they faltered.

Was this their end? All they saw on the other side of those doors was despair. But, something strange took place. The doors trembled, becoming extremely unstable. A moment later, they turned illusory.

'Unfortunately, my descendants, I can't allow you to summon those doors to this world yet. Furthermore, there is something coming to your aid. Now, sleep. Repair yourself and grow,' the regal voice sounded in Apollo's mind.

A second before falling unconscious, he could have sworn he saw an extremely large claw puncturing the Wrath's Blanket. After that, his body fell. Shockingly, a similar situation to place with the rest of them.