The Bloodline System Chapter 1683: The Fallen Hero
Previously on The Bloodline System...
Everyone stood frozen in place.
Their hearts constricted with sharp pain.
Angy.
Their close companion.
Their brave warrior.
Their cherished sister.
Their fellow squad member from MBO times.
The young woman who always greeted Gustav with a kind smile.
The fighter who battled more fiercely than any for their lives.
The believer in Gustav during his moments of self-doubt.
The one prepared to sacrifice her life for him—
And who ultimately did.
Elevora dropped to her knees.
Sersi wept openly.
Aildris gripped his fist so hard that his knuckles popped.
Falco’s eyes turned red in an instant.
E.E staggered ahead.
His voice cracked.
"Bro..."
His lips quivered.
"No... no. Please no..."
He seized Gustav’s arm.
"Say it’s not true. Tell me you’re just joking. PLEASE say you’re joking. Angy can’t be dead. She CAN’T be! We’ve battled side by side for YEARS! We endured it all! She made it through everything! She—she—she wouldn’t depart this way—"
Gustav softly pried away E.E’s hold.
"I’m sorry."
Those two simple words broke them completely.
Losses had occurred in the past.
Horrific ones.
But Angy?
ANJY?
It seemed utterly unreal.
Cruelly unjust.
Absolutely impossible.
Gustav started moving ahead over the lunar terrain, his pace steady yet shaking with suppressed feelings.
The group hurried to follow, eager to comfort him, desperate for answers.
Yet Gustav abruptly spun back.
The atmosphere changed as his gaze lit up.
"I need some solitude at the moment," he stated softly. "You all should leave now."
"Gus—" Endric started.
As soon as Gustav snapped his fingers...
Phuuum~
E.E extended his hand—
"BRO WAIT—!"
Falco shouted—
"GUSTA—!"
Aildris called out—
"DON’T DO THIS—!"
A brilliant golden light surrounded them, and they disappeared instantly.
They materialized back on Earth, right in the center of a serene, verdant meadow.
Their safe haven.
Their refuge.
Falco tripped and fell to the earth.
Elevora let out a cry.
Sersi collapsed to her knees once more, crying without restraint.
Aildris squeezed his fists until blood seeped from his palms.
Endric slammed his fist into the dirt with a growl.
E.E remained there, shaking violently—then bellowed from the core of his being:
"FUCK!"
His shout reverberated through the vast meadow.
For everyone grasped the harsh reality.
The cosmos had been healed.
Except for one soul.
And the individual who rescued all of creation...
Had forfeited the person he desired to rescue above all.
...
...
...
The globe had reclaimed tranquility.
No...
The entire universe had reclaimed tranquility.
For the first time after ages, no gods hovered above, no otherworldly dangers poured from fissures, no heavenly despots tore the heavens apart with hatred.
Earth spun peacefully under a tranquil sun.
Breezes flowed undistorted.
Urban areas reconstructed with aid from cosmic partners.
Folks chuckled free of dread.
Yet despite serenity blanketing the realm like morning mist, a single name lingered on all lips:
Gustav.
The Outworldly.
The Universe’s Savior.
And trailing it came another name, borne on waves of sorrow:
Angy Vilandrobadia.
The Silent Savior.
The Fallen Hero.
Over the lands, the facts had circulated.
Initially mere gossip... yet another interstellar legend.
Then increasing numbers of those who lived spoke up.
They recounted the gods’ warping of reality.
How Earth was divided into three enormous pieces and trapped in a stellar jail.
How inhabitants suffered under entities who deemed them insignificant.
And in those last desperate instants, when hope faded, Gustav came back.
Back from the grave.
Back from outside of being.
Back bearing the rage of a dying sun and the mercy of someone who cherished profoundly.
He mended the fabric of existence.
He revived star systems.
He renewed existence.
And the cosmos chanted his name.
But gradually, the complete story surfaced.
Gustav couldn’t have returned—
Not absent her.
Angy.
The maiden tender amid conflict.
The one with paired unicorn horns.
The one who cherished with passion, existed without ego... and passed in silence.
The universe learned that to revive Gustav, Angy had given all...
her life...
her soul...
her very being...
and the existence of their unborn offspring...
This truth hit the stars with sorrow so profound that far-off worlds grieved.
If Gustav served as the redeemer, Angy was the redeemer of the redeemer.
And one query resounded through every realm:
Where had Gustav gone?
Where was the figure who reforged universes?
Where was the battler, the ally, the guardian?
He hadn’t shown himself.
Not even once.
Not for talks.
Not for festivities.
Not even for simple gratitude.
He had faded away completely.
Folks pondered...
"He must be mourning."
"He must be shattered."
"He must be in a place beyond the universe’s gaze."
And they spoke truly.
But few voiced it boldly.
For the reality was heartbreaking.
For the champion of the cosmos was a man left in pieces.
And thus, the moment came at last.
The ceremony for Angy Vilandrobadia’s burial.
It took place on Earth—
the world of her birth,
the world of her education,
the world where love for Gustav bloomed,
the world she defended countless times beyond measure.
The location selected overlooked a lush valley in Plankton City.
Thousands gathered there.
Not merely humans.
Beings from the galaxy’s remotest reaches.
Troopers.
Those who endured.
Young ones rescued from peril.
Rulers of realms mended by Gustav’s efforts.
Full crews of vessels journeyed across vast distances for a stranger girl.
Flying devices recorded the scene, sharing it across the stars.
A platform for tributes stood before a radiant statue hewn from pure lumistone... a precious substance for legends alone.
It showed Angy upright, her dual unicorn-like horns rising boldly from her brow. Her face held calm bravery.
Her stance had one arm raised as if guarding another behind her while
the opposite formed a fist poised for battle.
The artist captured her essence flawlessly.
Around the statue, pale petals floated like falling flakes.
Mr. and Mrs. Vilandrobadia sat in the foremost seats.
Age had touched them more, with silver threads in their locks... yet their devotion to their child endured:
Their affection for their daughter.
Mrs. Vilandrobadia gripped her cloth so firmly it ripped.
Mr. Vilandrobadia rested elbows on thighs, face buried in hands, body quaking without sound.