The Evolution Of A Goblin To The Peak

Chapter 1186: Angels, Legendary, and Dangers II

The leading angel furrowed his brows as he finally acknowledged the approaching figures.

"And who might you be?" he asked, voice dripping with disdain. "A word of advice—do not meddle in matters that do not concern you."

The two angels behind him shifted their attention toward Eztein. They released a fraction of their mighty pressure just enough to make the ground quiver and the leaves tremble.

Yet Eztein walked forward unfazed.

His eyes drifted between the three airborne angels... and the battered woman bleeding on the ground.

"So whose side are we taking?" Doranjan asked beside him, his tone dark with anticipation.

Eztein didn’t look back. His voice was calm, almost casual.

"Naturally, the weak." He glanced at Esriel. "Even if we helped those three, I doubt they’d reward us with anything useful. But aiding the desperate... that’s a different story."

The three angels’ expressions tightened. They had heard every word.

"So," the leading angel said coldly, "you don’t take us seriously."

Holy light pulsed behind him like a growing sun.

"Then we’ll simply add you to the casualties."

He lifted one hand. A radiant greatsword materialized in midair, burning with blinding purity. Its very presence warped the air.

Swoooosh!!

"Doranjan—go!!" Eztein shouted, pointing straight at the angels.

Doranjan nodded once and lightning flashed across his eyes.

Eztein exhaled, shaking his head with a quiet sigh.

Then everything changed.

His figure blurred, vanished, and reappeared in the air as his body expanded violently. Scales ripped across his skin in an eruption of crimson and gold. Muscles twisted and coiled like hardened steel. Two pairs of massive wings burst from his back with a deafening crack, unfurling like banners of war.

His silhouette swallowed the sky.

And then—

ROOOOAAAAAAR!!!

Doranjan’s true form detonated into existence. The sheer force of his feram flooded the forest like a tidal wave, uprooting trees, scattering debris, and choking the air with earth-shaking power.

In a single breath, the battle line was drawn.

Angels above.

Beasts of war below.

And the forest trembling, as if it sensed the carnage about to unfold.

"A fifth-stage monster!!"

The three angels’ expressions twisted the moment Doranjan’s power erupted. Shock. Fear. Disbelief. The air around them shuddered as they instinctively unleashed their own powerful energies, no longer holding anything back.

BOOM!!

The earth convulsed violently. Shockwaves spiraled upward as raw power clashed in the sky. Trees were ripped from the soil in an instant, spinning helplessly through the air like broken twigs caught in a storm.

Doranjan didn’t slow.

With a savage roar, he launched himself toward the angels, a living force of destruction.

BOOM!! BOOM!!

Explosions thundered across the heavens as monster and angels collided.

...

Meanwhile.

Eztein stepped toward the dazed Esriel, who lay trembling beneath the glow of the distant battle.

"What’s your name?" he asked, his tone oddly calm amid the chaos.

Esriel blinked, snapping back to reality. "W-Who are you?"

"I’m the one asking questions," Eztein said, shrugging lightly. "But fine. I’m Eztein. And the one up there tearing the sky apart is Doranjan."

He pointed upward.

Esriel’s eyes followed his gesture and widened.

The sky was a battlefield of light and shadow. Holy radiance clashed with monstrous feram in blinding bursts. The air itself trembled each time their energies collided. The ground beneath them vibrated endlessly, as if the entire forest feared what the fight might awaken.

"You don’t need to worry." Eztein spoke casually, as though discussing the weather. "Doranjan’s strong. Even if he doesn’t kill them, he’ll at least drive them off."

He paused, watching the sky flicker with violent light.

"To be honest..." Eztein murmured with a small smirk, "I’m not even sure how strong he’s become in the last few months."

Another explosion lit the sky, brighter than lightning.

"Those three angels," he added, "should be nothing more than light exercise for him."

Eztein watched the sky with a faint smirk.

Doranjan wasn’t using any technique, not a skill, not an ability, not even a breath-based attack.

Just raw, savage brute force.

And yet he was holding off three angels... all of whom radiated the unmistakable aura of the Seventh Shackle Realm. A lineup strong enough to flatten most battalions. A lineup that should have been overwhelming.

But Doranjan waded through their holy radiance like a beast tearing through mist.

In the end, the battle didn’t last long.

Once the three angels realized the imbalance—once they understood that they couldn’t win—they immediately retreated, streaking across the sky like desperate comets. Doranjan didn’t bother to chase them. Didn’t even look interested. He simply let them flee.

A moment later, his monstrous frame shrank, scales compressing, wings folding into nothing, bones reshaping until he stood once again in humanoid form. He landed beside Eztein with a quiet thud.

Esriel tensed, wings tightening around herself. She still didn’t know what these two intended, and she watched them like a caged animal—ready to bolt, ready to fight, ready for anything.

"You’re an angel, same as them," Eztein said, studying her closely. "They called you a traitor. So tell me... what exactly did you do?"

Esriel blinked, stunned. "You... don’t know?"

She narrowed her eyes. "The war between angels and fallen angels. The two factions tearing each other apart. Both supported by their own gods. Don’t you know anything at all?"

Eztein shrugged. "Not really. We just arrived here. Heard rumors about a secret realm, so we came to try our luck."

Esriel stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.

"You came here... despite the war? Despite angels and fallen angels slaughtering each other? Are you insane? Are you not afraid of death?"

Eztein snorted. "Hey, we just saved your life, remember?" Then he waved off her panic, adding, "We’re here for a friend. We need to find him. That’s all."

He crossed his arms. "Now, it’s your turn. Who are you? And why were those angels so hell-bent on killing you?"

Esriel’s gaze slowly fell to the ground.

Her voice trembled at first, but she forced the words out.

"The war between angels and fallen angels... it’s been simmering for ages. Small fights. Border skirmishes. Nothing large enough to shake the heavens." She closed her eyes. "But when the secret realms appeared... everything changed."

"The battles grew bigger. Bloodier. Armies started to move. The gods began to take an interest."

She lifted her head, eyes hollow and exhausted.

"And that... is when everything fell apart."

"Wait... so this isn’t the only secret realm that appeared this month?" Doranjan’s eyes thinned, a cold glint flickering within them.

"Yes..." Esriel whispered.

She drew a slow breath, then continued, each word carrying the weight of the world beyond. "The war has already erupted. Two factions... and both are tearing the realms apart."

Coriel, the Fallen Mercy of Order, a herald of salvation. A God-rank being whose very aura could crush armies, Coriel’s influence stretched like a shadow over every battlefield.

Opposing her was Archangel Vienn, the Absolute Judgement, a figure the angels regarded as both commander and executioner. She commanded a battalion of Dominions—angels honed through agony, forged in unending trials. Only the strongest survived the process; the rest were simply erased.

"So the war revolves around these two..." Eztein muttered, eyes dim as he processed the scale of the conflict. He turned to Esriel. "Is there any other God-rank being involved?"

Esriel shook her head slowly. "I don’t know. And even if there are... someone like me doesn’t get to know the names of gods who choose to move. For now, they’re the only ones openly stirring the land."

Eztein nodded. He didn’t think Esriel was lying. Her hesitation made it clear she truly didn’t know the deeper, classified layers of the ongoing war.

"By the way," Eztein said, "you haven’t told us your name yet."

"Oh—right." She straightened slightly. "I’m Esriel, an angel. Former Captain of the Reverend Angels."

"Reverend Angels?" Doranjan raised a brow.

"It’s a division under Archangel Vienn," Esriel explained. "I was one of the Captains... though I’m certain they’ve already replaced me. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a traitor." Her expression hardened, eyes firm. "But I did what I believed was right. If they see that as betrayal, then so be it. I don’t regret it."

"Good," Doranjan said, nodding approvingly. "Blind obedience never ends well."

Before Esriel could respond, all three of them froze. A strange sensation rippled through the air, subtle at first, then unmistakably ominous.

Their gazes swept the surroundings, tension coiling in their posture.

Ohm!!

A heavy, unnatural fog began to spread, swallowing the trees and earth around them. Their senses dulled, their perception constricted, as the mist thickened into a suffocating shroud.

"What’s happening?!" Esriel’s voice cracked in disbelief.

She could hardly comprehend it. As a Seventh Shackle Realm expert, almost nothing should be able to interfere with her senses and yet this fog pressed against her perception like an invisible wall. Something far beyond her level was lurking within this secret realm... something she had not accounted for.

"This is what Chief Zandir warned us about..." Eztein muttered. His gaze lifted instinctively toward the heavens.

Above them, the sky had shifted, darkened into a deep, star-lit void, as if night had fallen in an instant. Countless glittering stars shimmered unnaturally, like eyes watching from the abyss.

"Chief Zandir?" Esriel asked, forcing her voice steady.

"He’s a local of this secret realm," Eztein explained. "He’s the one who told us about the strange phenomena happening on this island."