Transcendent Odyssey [Coffeepen]-Chapter 47: DIVINE DISMEMBERMENT

PREVIOUSLY-

He twisted mid-air, momentum bleeding into a spin, and drove his right boot into her torso.

WHAM!

The impact echoed like thunder. Ribs cracked audibly. The angel recoiled, crashing backward in a storm of feathers and dust, wings curling reflexively around her.

Miriel fell to her knees, coughing, claw marks already blackening on her throat.

Elira rushed to her side, while Raphael landed, one knee bent, spear already drawn again.

His eyes burned.

"Round two," he murmured. "Let's rip that smile off her face."

----------------x------------

The angel's wings snapped wide, scattering debris in a circular gust. She shrieked—a discordant trill that vibrated the stone tiles beneath their feet.

"KRAA-AHHHH!"

Her face split open like bark, rows of needle-teeth spiraling back into a gullet that glowed pale gold. Eyes blinked across her chest, stomach, shoulders—each one tracking a different target.

Raphael didn't wait.

He surged forward, low to the ground, spear tucked beneath his armpit like a lance.

CLACK-CLACK!

The angel dropped to all fours, skittering sideways like a mantis, her joints bending at wrong angles. Her wings blurred—white arcs of velocity—trying to blindside him.

CLANG!

His spear batted one wing aside, just enough to slip under. He rolled, came up inside her guard, and jabbed straight for her ribs—where flesh peeked through stone.

"Not so divine under all that marble, huh?"

SHHRUNK!

The tip sank in.

A spray of iridescent ichor hissed out, sizzling on the ground like acid. The angel screeched, claws raking down to flay him open.

SLICE!

Too slow.

Raphael pivoted behind her, hooking her knee with the shaft of his spear and pulling. She staggered—

—right into Miriel's magic burst.

THOOM!

A globe of pressure-locked water detonated against the angel's back, momentarily staggering her. Chunks of cracked stone slid from her spine, revealing the twitching muscle beneath.

"Her back! Under the wings!" Elira shouted, already conjuring another bolt.

But the angel twisted.

Her head rotated a full 180°, snapping with a wet pop. Her torso followed, claws extending, jaws opening too wide.

"R-Raph—!"

CRUNCH!

Raphael caught the forearm on his spear shaft, but his knees dipped from the force. His boots skidded over blood-slick cobblestone.

He spat out blood.

"You're heavy," he muttered. "That statue diet's doing you no favors."

With a grunt, he dropped low, planted his foot—and ripped the spear upward, carving through one of the wing joints.

SPLRRRKT!

Feathers exploded in all directions as flesh and stone parted. The wing flopped, twitching grotesquely.

The angel howled.

The statue reared back, letting out a psychic wail that tore through the square.

Her wings twisted around her like a shield.

Then-

FWOOM!

She vanished in a streak of light, reappearing behind Miriel. Her claws arc downward in a flash, aiming to bisect her from shoulder to hip.

CRUNCH!

Miriel's hands rose as a shield of compressed ice materialized before her. The statue's claws brushed against the shield, splinters of ice falling in all directions.

STAB!

SHLK!

Raphael lunged at the angel's back. His fingers curled around the angel's wings.

"Aargh!"

TEAR!

With a grunt, he tore the half-crippled wing off the angel's back.

"Kraaaa!"

A shriek of agony erupted from her many-mouthed throat, each gaping jaw on her body screaming in dissonant harmony. Veins of dark ichor pulsed along her back where the wing was ripped. In a burst of desperation, she jerked forward, slamming the back of her head into Raphael's face.

CRACK!

Cartilage crunched. Blood spurted from Raphael's nose. Simultaneously, the angel's spine contorted unnaturally, and dozens of flesh-tendril eyes erupted from her back, each one snapping toward Raphael like vipers to blind and bind him.

Raphael's hand went to his waist, pulling out his dagger. With a sharp flick of his hand, the dagger moved towards one of the many eyes that covered the statue's body.

The blade sank deep into the flesh—

SPLURT!

A geyser of black-pink fluid erupted, sizzling as it hit the ground like acid. The wounded eye spasmed, and the surrounding tendrils flailed wildly, blinded and shrieking.

The angel reeled, but her body whirled unnaturally, torso twisting like a rope being wrung out.

One remaining wing lashed out—not to hit, but to impale—its sharpened bone feathers turning rigid, javelin-like, aiming to skewer Raphael mid-air.

CRACK!

Raphael's spear swung in a desperate arc, but the bone-feather projectiles shattered against Miriel's hastily conjured ice shield. Spiderweb fractures splintered the barrier, shards scattering like shrapnel into the stained cathedral air.

Raphael landed just behind the frozen wall. Breath ragged, he gave Miriel a half-smile—not gratitude, but sharp confirmation.

"You're catching on."

Behind the cracking ice, the angel screamed—a tearing, otherworldly sound like a violin string snapping. Her limbs bent grotesquely backward, then she lunged forward with unnatural speed, eyes flickering madly across her stone shell.

Before Raphael could react, her fist crashed into his jaw with a sickening THWACK.

The world spun. His spear slipped from numb fingers as he was thrown sideways like a ragdoll, crashing into a wooden bench. The bench shattered, wood splintering under his weight. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision.

"Raphael!" Miriel's cry barely cut through the thunderous CRACK! that followed.

Elira stepped forward, hair alive with static, palms sparking. With a fierce cry, she slammed them together.

KA-CRAKOOM!

Lightning arced down from blood-red skies, jagged bolts piercing the angel's eyes. The creature howled, several eyes bursting in wet, seared pops while others rolled madly in pain.

Miriel's breath formed a frost mist as she thrust her hands forward.

FWOOOOSH!

A freezing blast hammered the angel's side. Stone cracked, frost veins creeping across her shell, rooting one leg to the cobblestones. Chunks of wing crumbled brittle and cold.

Raphael stirred, grimacing, and staggered to his feet. His eyes swept the battlefield—broken wings twitching, frozen leg, cracking torso—she was weakening but far from done.

Then, beside him, Miriel and Elira aligned, breaths syncing.

Miriel's palms glowed as a lance of jagged ice formed, sharp and long as a spear. Lightning wrapped it in a crackling coil of golden fury.

"NOW!"

Elira shouted.

They launched the lance—FWOOOSH—KRAKOOOM!

The lance tore through the mist and blood-soaked air, embedding in the angel's core. Shards of stone burst outward, ice and lightning weaving destruction from within. Her last wing crumbled to ash and glass.

Her scream was a cathedral collapsing in reverse—ancient, layered with a thousand voices.

She writhed, twitching, before falling silent, collapsing into dust and broken flesh.

The battle seemed won—until the angel's dead form convulsed violently.

Suddenly, with terrifying speed, she snatched Elira.

The girl screamed, feet kicking wildly as the angel's gaping, tooth-lined maw opened to devour her.

"NO!"

Miriel cried, too far to intervene.

SHLK!

A flash of silver—a spear thrust.

Raphael's spear drove through Elira's chest, spine, and sternum with a sickening crunch. The tip burst through the roof of the angel's mouth, piercing the back of its stone skull.

The angel convulsed, eyes flickering out one by one. Limbs curled like shattered paper. Elira's limp body slid down the spear, blood dripping silently onto the cracked floor.

Raphael stepped back, expression void.

"She would've been eaten either way," he muttered.

Miriel fell to her knees beside Elira, trembling.

"You... you used her," she whispered, voice breaking.

Raphael didn't respond.

"She bought us a clear shot."

DING!

--x------

[INBOX]

◈ Vyrmora's Labyrinth Cleared!

(Difficulty: Hell)

-----x----

A deep rumble shook the cathedral. The angel's stone shell cracked apart, disintegrating into dust. Behind the dust-clouded ruins, a massive door began to grind open.

Light spilled in—cold, natural morning light.

PRESENT-

Raphael walked toward the forest, his head turning toward Miriel—once, then away. His lips parted, a word hanging on them, but he swallowed it back, eyes flickering to her face and catching something he wasn't ready to face.

Miriel stood motionless outside the crumbling labyrinth, fingers clutching the wand's shaft until her knuckles whitened. The bitter taste of iron filled her mouth as she bit her lip, eyes fixed on the ground. Her shoulders slumped, folding inward like she wanted to disappear.

A single tear escaped, trailing down through strands of tangled blue hair.

Raphael took a hesitant step forward, but his feet rooted him to the spot. His chest tightened, breath catching — a silent ache he refused to name. He lingered there a moment longer, then turned away, swallowed by the shadows of the forest.

Miriel dropped her hands to her face, trembling.

'I thought he was kind.'

'How can someone be so indifferent?'

'Or am I the one overreacting?'

'Elira. Caerin. Kiri... I'm sorry.'

More tears traced warm paths down her cheeks.

A gloved thumb brushed one away — gentle, almost tender.

Miriel looked up. Raphael.

His eyes locked with hers, lips pressed into a thin line as he saw his reflection in her sapphire gaze.

Her throat tightened.

She slapped his hand away, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.

Raphael stepped back, his hand lingering in the air.

"Go away..."

Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

His fingers curled, then slowly retracted.

He looked at her — at the slump in her shoulders, at the betrayal etched across her face.

One hand drifted to his pocket. He fumbled for a moment, then held out a handkerchief.

"Sorry," he murmured.

Miriel's jaw clenched. Her hands trembled at her sides.

"I thought you were better than this," she said, voice cracking. "But you... you used us."

Raphael gently placed the handkerchief in her palm, brushing her fingers.

"I did what I believed was right," he said quietly. "But... if you'll let me, I'll apologize to Lady Elira myself."

Miriel slammed the cloth to his chest,

"I don't want to see you again."

She turned to leave. Her steps heavy.

Raphael gazed at her back. A knot tightened in his chest.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Drelgor's voice cut through the silence, wings buzzing lazily,

"Make sure you get her forgiveness."

Raphael lowered his head.

DING!

The system shimmered to view.

-----[QUEST: LABYRINTH HUNTER]-----

◈Clear 15 labyrinths

Progress: [13/15]

Reward: ???

Penalty: none

-----------------

TAP!

-------[ ⟪ PRIMORDIAL SYSTEM ⟫]--------

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

[Name]: Raphaeldor Tigranclaw

[Race]: Human

[Class]: MEDICAL STUDENT

[Health]: 100%

[Mana]: 500 / 500

[Strength]: 24→25

[Agility]: 18→20

[Endurance]: 21→23

[Intelligence]: 25→26

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

[System Modules Unlocked]

– ▣ [TITLES]

– ▣ [SKILL TREE]

– ▣ [INBOX](1)!

– ▣ [QUEST]

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

Duration Remaining: 2 Years

⚠ Note: This system is not recognized by Imperial Standard Protocols. Classification: EXOGENOUS

-------[ ⟪⨉⟫]--------

He tapped on- [INBOX]

DING!

---[INBOX]---

◈Skill book received.

Do you wish to accept?

(Y/N)

---------------

Raphael tapped on – 'Y'.

POOF!

A heavy book materialized before him.

It was bound in black sinew-wrapped leather, stitched with silver thread so thin it looked like veins under skin.

The cover bore a carved anatomical relief of a human figure, but instead of skin, the muscle groups are etched in silver filigree, exposed like a dissection.

Across the centre was a single vertical slash that divided the body perfectly—representing the spear's cut.

The title is not written, but instead burned into the hide with a thin brand, visible only when the light caught it from the right angle.

----x---

▶ ITEM OBTAINED◀

[Vitreocleave Doctrine]

Type: Skill Book

Rank: S+

Appearance: A black leather manual stitched with silver thread, its cover marked by a skinless figure and a faint vertical slash.

Effect-

The Vitreocleave Doctrine is a martial style and anatomical philosophy designed for those who seek not merely to defeat opponents—but to dismantle them with surgical precision.

Best suited for:

Those who have a calm and efficiency-based fighting style with no wasted movement.

----x---

Raphael opened the book.

One the first page, a single sentence was etched on the parchment-

"Know the Scaffold, Then Collapse It"

Raphael turned the page-

Index of the Vitreocleave Doctrine

A Treatise on Anatomical Combat and Cold Efficiency

Foreword: The Creed of the Vitreocleave

On the necessity of emotionless violence.I. Grips and GuardsII. Doctrine of Vital UnmakingIII. Environments and AdjustmentsIV. Barehanded ApplicationsV. Against Inhuman FormsVI. Spear as ScalpelVII. The Rhythm of DeathVIII. Skill of analysisIX. Aura and Mana ApplicationsAppendix I: The Vitreocleave Map

Full-body anatomical overlays with spear paths.Appendix II: Forbidden Stances

Techniques deemed too slow or too emotional.

------------------------ ƒгeewёbnovel.com

THUMP!

Raphael closed the book.

Drelgor leaned over his shoulder.

"Are you not going to read it?"

Raphael sighed,

"No. I will first clear more labyrinths."

WHAM!

BOOM!

Leon stood up, brushing off the dirt from his shoulders.

"Hahaha... It's all self-defence now, okay?"

Before him stood four students. His age.

Four humans, no- four lambs waiting to be slaughtered.