When he opened his eyes, it had felt like waking from a long, dreary slumber.

He vaguely remembered the pitiful, weak form that had once been his. Within the divine light of his God, he had watched first as the digits on his fingers were warped and sharpened, becoming themselves like blades to rend apart the monsters that had plagued him since his childhood. He had felt the rest of his body follow.

He'd felt the light of the Lord travel through him.

The process had felt like a long, lucid dream. During which, he received visions of the past, present, and future. And he'd seen how all of them coalesced in a way that he'd never realized before.

As a human, he'd thought of his life and the time he had on this world as linear. For that had been the destiny Carliah Argent had told him was his: to live, and then to die. Fate, it seemed, had dealt him a hand he couldn't accept. Because he wasn't ready. He didn't have the right mentality. The right imagination to believe.

Even as a child, he'd been paralyzed. His hatred had forced him to strive towards the destruction of his enemies, and yet his fear of death had held him back. After all, what was the last command his mother had given him? "Live, Arty. Live."

Those words had stuck with him, even though he didn't have a personal reason to believe in them. Even if his existence had been nothing but serving a King and country he couldn't care less about. In the end, he'd always been a scared little boy.

No more.

Even during the most painful parts of the transformation – when he felt the muscles in his back split apart and bloody, feathered wings sprout like crimson flowers from his shoulder blades – he took solace in the visions Kaedmon sent him. They became the only balm he needed for the torment. He truly was like a child, being cradled by the mother he'd lost when he was so, so young, and didn't understand what the world needed him to be.

His broken blade, once a symbol of his failure, now merged with his right arm and sharpened. He saw his own blood merge with that of the angel's – his and Krea's both – and travel up the blade of the organic weapon to strengthen it. Now, it was even more powerful than Onixia. And at its tip beamed the blazing light of Kaedmon that he was to bring back to the world.

And yet…even within the dreams…he felt remnants of his old self. As he sloshed around in the chamber of light, with images of the City of Illusions and the Demon Hat playing around his dreaming mind, he couldn't quite shake the notions of his former mind. Of fear. And of doubt. They had been emotions that had so characterized his personality that they were even more difficult to transform than his corporeal form.

But Kaedmon's touch was soft. And his voice, gentle.

Artorious – for that was once his name – allowed himself to let go. The experience was intoxicating. Like being drunk on a thousand vintage wines and never needing to reach for another. Blissful was his sleep once Kaedmon showed him that fear was no longer necessary. He'd no longer be burdened with such human trivialities. The power of the Lord had always been waiting for him. Only now did Kaedmon see that he truly was worthy. Because he was more human than all of them.

Fear is that which is natural to your kind, the God had whispered to him during his dream-rebirth. It is the way I made you. For without fear, there is no hope. Without suffering, there is no promise of joy.

Artorious closed his eyes and felt himself smile. How had he not realized that sooner? How could it be that the Lord truly did understand him better than he even understood himself?

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You have lived through horrors, my Lightborn. You have suffered. You have done so because I saw fit to make it so. Because I saw that it was the only way to truly set this world right.

He was only…what he was born…to be…

Suffering has made you what you are, Keadmon told him. And now, it shall be what unmakes your enemy. The enemy of all mankind.

Yes. He saw that. He saw himself waking in the doomed City. He saw himself looking at the fallen body of the Archon – the Delve Boss he'd relinquished as he ran like a coward through the now closed portal. He saw what that body contained. The tiny, seemingly insignificant insignia it held upon his right wrist:

[Memory Band]

And he smiled as he realized what it was, and what secrets it would soon reveal to him.

For the Lord worked in mysterious ways. And only now did he see that this had been part of the grand plan all along. Kaedmon had played the long game. And Gods never bet on anything but a sure thing.

When the transformation process was complete, he looked upon himself in the shimmering pools of blood that the Archon had left behind in the City of Illusions.

What struck him most was his face: a ball of light that almost blinded him. A wisp of pure energy from which flowed threads of silvery hair with fire at their tips. Upon that face, there was no mouth, no nose, no features at all – save for his four diamond-shaped blue eyes. He thought perhaps the Lord had left the color the same to remind himself that he was still here. He was still looking at himself, as he should be. As he needed to be.

Before he left the City, he tested his newfound powers on the pitiable creatures that were still alive in the dungeon. His blade sliced through even their ethereal hides. The burning cannon of light that was his left arm blazed and burned them inside out, cleansing their impure monster souls and sending them directly to Kaedmon for divine judgement.

Where he stepped, he brought that burning light with him. His every footstep seared away the dead city beneath him, and his every touch brough the dream spires down. He watched them fall towards him, crumbling debris that would have felled his mortal body. But he did not recoil. He simply let them fall down upon him, feeling pain flow through his angelic system, feeling the blood of Krea quicken as his [Angelic Regeneration] kicked in, instantly healing his meagre wounds.

After a few weeks of nothing but training on the beasts, honing his skills, and becoming more and more confident in his newfound form, he heard the voice of his Lord beckon him towards the exit portal. It seemed that the force that had been keeping it shut had finally left the world behind. The one called Jun'Ei was dead. The only one who had ever stood a chance of opposing the world's true Lord and Master was gone.

And now, Artorious was ready to claim the world anew.

First, he gathered the truest sons and daughters of the Lord to his side, leaving the rest to keep the Archon busy as he burned Lucent. They had made the sacrifice willingly. There was no way they could do anything else. Cities did not matter. They were just buildings. Once the vermin of this world had been extinguished, they could build all the glorious settlements they wanted. Viscount Mobius was a man ready to die. He'd lived the life Kaedmon had granted him, and was now walking the final, painful steps of his Path. There was little more any mortal in Argwyll could ask for than that.

With the eradication of the Hybrid species in mind, Artorious had then brought his band below.

Standing here now, staring at the pitiable creatures arrayed against him, he almost thought that he still might be dreaming. The monsters of this subterranean hell called 'Sanctum' were parodies of the human race. They dared to stand against the Greycloaks. They dared to spit upon the will of the one true God.

Beside him, the small boy wavered. Artorious could sense his fear.

"Stay by my side, young Jory," he told him – his voice an angelic murmur that ran through the bloodstream of all his troops. "Let us bring light to this underground hell."

He raised his sword and felt the energies of pure light flow through him, collecting at the tip of his arm-blade.

[Angel-Arm] Grade S

DIVINE SKILL

Effect: You emit a beam of pure divine energy, dealing 1000 DMG to all foes in a 250-meter line before you.

[Divine] Energy cannot be blocked.

He watched the twitching, terrified faces of the little hybrids on the wall as they tried to resist him – pelting him with their feeble crossbow bolts.

Once, perhaps he would have quivered to see such a sight. But no longer. Kaedmon had…upgraded him.

Now, he believed without question.

Now, there was no more doubt.

Now – there was but one conviction at the forefront of his mind:

Your reign is over, Archon Ethan. Soon, there will be nothing left for you to protect.

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