The moment the heart shattered, it did not explode.
Its fragments turned into a stream of black energy, pure and thick as ink. Instead of dissipating, it surged wildly toward Richard's feet, as if it had found an outlet.
Richard did not absorb the black energy. Every last bit poured into the parched black earth.
Rumble—
The ground began to shake violently.
Centered on Richard, the enormous pit where the Fallen Angel's remains knelt began to widen and deepen at a startling speed.
It was as though an ancient behemoth, asleep for ten thousand years, was waking beneath the earth.
"What's happening?"
"The ground's collapsing!"
Gregory and the others snapped out of their fervor. They stared at the ground splitting beneath their feet, horror spreading across their faces.
Richard, however, remained strangely calm. He even spread his arms, as though welcoming something.
"There's no need to panic."
His voice carried a force that made people believe him.
"The time has come to witness our lord's glory."
The instant he finished speaking,
an immense structure slowly rose from the bottomless pit.
It was neither a palace nor a temple.
It was a colossal altar forged from obsidian and an unknown metal.
The altar had a raw, primitive beauty. Countless twisted, furious faces were carved into it—men and women, young and old. All of them screamed and roared in silence.
At the altar's summit stood a vast platform, with a throne at its center.
The throne was empty, but merely looking at it stirred an urge to kneel, submit, and offer up everything.
When the entire altar emerged, its overwhelming aura sent a faint, almost imperceptible tremor through the whole Western European Continent.
And at that very moment,
an announcement utterly unlike those of Yan Country's gods forcibly tore through the Apocalypse