Rome burns with a raging fire. The once beautiful city has been reduced into smoldering ashes and debris. Corpses littered across the earth as holy alongside unholy energies violently reacting to each other.
Once, it was fertile land, but now it was no more than radiated barren land. This density of magical power only allowed those blessed with power above mortal human or supernatural beings to survive.
The carnage did not stop. It only grows even more brutal and deadlier.
Explosion blared across the sky, tearing open clouds as the sky above them shattered. Countless magic circles formed around the former city, exploding various beams of light and obliterating anyone nearby.
The voice of steel and metal dueled, manifesting shackles through the air. The vibrations were intense, burning anyone who unfortunately heard it.
In that catastrophic event, natural disasters wreak havoc across entire Europe. Rome itself became home to dozens of burning tornadoes, and earthquakes devastated the earth.
Something beyond words also occurs right at the moment a gigantic clash happens.
The world itself was wounded on a very fundamental level. If it was a pocket dimension, it would be instantly destroyed.
In that destruction., warcry from the devils filled the battlefield. To oppose them, holy choirs resounded to protect the follower of God.
Did not stop there. The situation became even more bizarre for the devils when the angels rained them with their spears and sigils.
Though they were outnumbered and even counting, the entire Seraphim were here. The devils present on this very battlefield were Marbas and Balam, two executioners of the Great Satan.
Both of them were fanatics in their own right. They are killing machines designed to murder each other.
But that was not the case. This battle's balance is at the titanic clash at the top of the entire warzone.
A battle of two beings that exceed any of their peers.
The burning blue flame engulfed the light of heaven.
An ironic fate.
Angels are being created to deliver God's divine judgment upon mortals. It includes the complete destruction of heretics and even innocents.
This calamity was not an exception.
Yet, the one who shields everything from this unrelenting wrath of annihilation is the one who is called Anathema. Using his flaming sword, the blue flame ate the pure force of the angel's spear.
Anathema, the way angels called him.
Anathema is a word that literally means a curse upon the vilest heretic. A curse that brought immediate extermination. Not only by the God Himself, but it is a decree that anyone must obey to destroy.
Anathema's flaming sword ironically concealed the spear's mighty power.
The destruction did not shatter the entire earth because of this flame. A flame that reaped apart the unfortunate souls that came in contact with it.
Once, it had been a fact the angles were unkillable. With their Father's blessings and the full might of the system, the dead could be resurrected to fight for another day.
But now, that belief is utterly shattered by the blasphemous sword on their vilest enemy. The sword itself severed their essence, burning their soul to oblivion.
Two opposing power struggled for superiority. Using all of their flared magical power to defeat their respective enemy.
Something left unspoken for both combatants. They stared intensely as their weapons clashed. A spark of magical energy erupted from it.
Like a flood of water, the energy swapped across Rome, demolished the land and sky above.
The armies around them staggered as some perished of drastically different powers being erupted to gain higher ground.
Michael gritted his teeth in desperation. His spear slowly but surely ate his body and essence. It did not act like some case of cursed weapons that consumed the user's soul. This spear slowly engulfed his holy essence using the concept of destruction that was carved deeply into its very bone.
The Seraphim could feel his hand begin to lose its power to wield the mighty weapon.
But rage blinded Michael from all of his sense and sanity. His remorse is long gone, as the destruction he brought only caused more severe damage across the holy land.
The images of her Father's suffering burned deep within the angel's mind.
Michael can feel it.
His Father's soul was torn apart, burned with Anathema's fire.
The pain, the suffering, the despair.
He could feel them across his blood as it boiled with wrath. Wrath for vengeance and judgment.
Michael was sure his wrath was justified. The creature before him possessed a threat beyond anything from his grievous nightmare.
A creature that should not be born into this world.
A creature that could only be described as the never born.
"I will slay you in the name of my Father!" Michael shouted, doubling his power to enforce the destructive power of the spear. As a result, the ground began to shatter, and the sea began to boil with the heat from the rising volcano deep beneath the blue ocean.
The blue fire only shone brighter to contain the ever-increasing power of the spear. It caused the spear's power of calamity not to spread even further.
The heat of this particular flame did not only burn his skin and armor. It constantly eroded his soul from the system, making Michael even more vulnerable.
Like a small corrosion that plagued every steel in this world, Michael's body started to feel the same way as those unfortunate weapons.
"Anathema... What is your purpose here?" The Seraphim asked as he forced all of his power to envelop the devil with wards that did not entirely intend to inflict direct, intended to not trigger his unknown defensive power.
However, it was answered in vain as the attacks only disappeared in thin air as they came close to the black armored devil.
"Your rage blinded you, Seraphim." The Anathema speaks with an emotionless voice. It only led the twelve-winged angel to be enraged even more.
"Don't you dare to speak to me like that!" Michael roared in fury as his spear began to shatter the entire concept of creation around them.
"I have my rights to utter that, angel. Did your Father bless your actions? Or he says otherwise?"The Anathema asked, only earning a confused look from the Seraphim.
"It was our sacred duty to destroy the unclean and purge the destroyer. You are different. You are the antithesis of all of His creations. No, you are the antithesis of all living beings in this world. Either they are supernatural or not!" He roared, channeling all of his power to envelope the devil in a barrier that trapped the entire power to solely focused on obliterating his enemy.
"Still blinded, huh. I guess I have no choice." The black-armored devil's eyes burned red. The power of the spear that surrounds him immediately turns null as the barrier shatters into oblivion.
None of them left, only Michael, who tried to comprehend the situation before his eyes. Before he could fully regain his stance, Michael's body was washed away by a sudden force of True Ether.
The force of creation surged inside his body, causing a large section of his magic power to dwindle and react violently.
To withstand this, Michael used his spear to separate him from his enemy. The concept of strife itself was created from countless aspects of humanity.
Strife originated from separation and superstition. This spear made those concepts into reality.
The power of separation and creation overlapped violently.
Slowly glancing at his surroundings, Michael was glad that his brother and sister managed to create a magical barrier to protect them from his onslaught on the Anathema.
Then, his eyes lay at the devils. He saw those vile creatures create their own barrier. Yet, it was different as he could feel it made by sheer magical energy resembling his spear.
"Surprise?" Anathema asked.
"How?" Michael asked as his eyes narrowed severely.
The devil did not say anything. His flaming sword burns bright as the sun itself, slowly spreading like wildfire. The creation brought by the True Ether collapsed on one another with the flame, creating a fierce reaction across the horizon.
"What is your purpose, Anathema?" The Seraphim asked, gritting his teeth in desperation to keep his shield to withstand the unrelenting storm of destruction.
"Did you see below you? You think I didn't know your brothers and sisters' craftiness. Power from the system God created imbued your magic with immunity to that spear. Your Father is indeed a careful god isn't he." Anathema remarked as the grin of the beastial helmet began wider alongside the eyes of the never born.
Michael shuddered in fear. The overwhelming presence of the devil began to increase to an inhuman level.
Michael gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw as he began to push back the power of the True Ether using his spear.
"I demand an answer, Anathema." Again, he asked.
"I just want to reinforce a point, Michael. How did you think the devil managed to create their own barrier? Look closer at your sister's battle. You will find something interesting." The black-armored devil said plainly.
Michael's blood runs cold when he mentions his sister; there would be only one person.
Gabriel.
"Don't you dare, Anathema!" Michael decided to recall his barrier. Instead, he focused on creating a magic circle that works to counterbalance the blue inferno.
While the blue tide is being pushed back the circle, Michael kneels profoundly. His eyes closed in devotion.
"Releasing the first and second seal," Michael said slowly, nearing a whisper.
It is a whisper that was a prayer to his Father.
Without any warning, the power sealed within the spear exploded across the sky and earth. Not only natural disasters around Europe worsened, but the strife also affected the supernatural realm nearby the holy city.
The spear is meant to kill the unkillable and destroy the indestructible.
Thus, the unspeakable power was sealed. God is afraid of its potential. A potential that exceeds any Longinus Sacred Gears. Longinus-class themselves were created to counterbalance the other gods' domination over mortals.
And the spear in Michael's hand was intentionally also created to destroy the concept of Longinus. Yet, the idea itself was almost scrapped by the Father due to how immense the risk is.
However, for some unknown reasons, his Father kept the spear intact.
Michael raised his weapon high. The power flooded all of his senses as he used his wings to evade any force overlead that could kill him.
Michael swings his spear.
Michael swung his blade at the armored devil in a flash of blinding light. In that explicit seconds, Anathema brings his sword to the fold.
Its flame burned the destruction ahead. If the concept of destruction only came to shatter anything in its path, the concept of creation shall answer as the standing barrier.
Anathema's flame and True Ehter had transformed into a maelstrom of magical energy.
The destruction and creation. The cycle will always repeat itself as no one shall claim victory.
The blue flame of the sword is capable of erasing the concept itself, while True Ether will recreate the moment of the genesis.
A paradox to
With that combination, supposedly impossible to destroy began to dwindle.
It was not power over the force, only changing the flow of the concept of destruction into something even more explicit.
A concept of destruction could not be destroyed, yet it could be erased by implementing a new concept to overwrite the current law.
That was the purpose of the paradoxical power.
Michael felt something that made his spear vibrates. The spear's light began to diminish rapidly.
"What is this?" The Seraphim muttered in a voice that was near a whisper.
"Don't let your concentration slip, Michael." The devil's voice snapped the Seraphim from his train of thought.
"Anathema." Michael gritted his teeth in anger.
"Your Father had seen the part of the truth, Michael." This statement only made the angel even more enraged.
"TRUTH?! AS AN EXISTENCE LIKE YOURSELF, CURSE UPON THE CREATION SPEAKS ABOUT THE TRUTH?!" He shouted, pushing his spear more profoundly into the maelstrom of magical energy.
Anathema did not answer. He stared deeply into the angel's eyes. The fury is paramount; no one can stop it.
"Blinded by anger. Thus, feeling justified to use that spear. Seraphim Michael, are you even worthy to stand beside Him? O, the greatest fool among angels." That was the last straw. Michael lunged at the devil.
Then, Anathema's name did not come without purpose.
Anathema struck the veil between the storm, completely transcending the concept of speed itself.
The blue flame withered, revealing the pearless steel of the black sword.
As the True Ether envelope it, the path was clear.
"One," Anathema said emotionlessly.
The clean cut manifested in Michael's armor, shattering the flawless artistic armor into pieces. The spear began to tremble as its mighty presence was challenged by an entirely foreign concept marked deep into its bone of existence.
"What..." There is no blood, yet something was destroyed beyond repair. Something that he could not see.
Michael quickly dismissed the grim thought and tightened his grasp on his spear. Something was off. Anathema's attack indeed landed on him, yet there was no wound.
Michael felt no pain or anything that would lead him into immediate danger. But, deep in his mind, as a supernatural being, he knew something was utterly wrong.
"What did you do to me, Anathema?" The Seraphim asked, gritting his teeth to hold his own anger.
The devil did not answer, pointing his black sword at the angel. The expression of his enemy could not be read, buried deep in his bestial helmet.
"Answer me!" the spear struck true, delivering a killing blow.
At the moment before the spear made its judgment, Anathema deflects it with his sword. In these seconds, Michael felt his heart drop to his stomach.
The spear is stopped by the ordinary black sword. No flame to hinder its conceptual destruction, only cold steel.
"What..." Michael could feel a sharp pain in his belly. His eyes laid on the source as he saw the armored devil had kicked him.
Anathema sends the mighty angel flying across the holy city with a force that shatters the gale. The impact destroyed the earth, cracking the ground with its immense force.
Michael coughed blood, feeling the incredible pain in his upper body. The attack shattered any supernatural defense in his body, bypassing any holy wards his Father had marked deep into Michael's flesh and bone.
It did not stop as the black comet came for him. The impact created a whirlwind across the plains, destroying anything that dared to stand near it.
The mighty pressure made the holy metal of Michaels break into thousands of pieces. Blood spluttered from his mouth as a sharp blade plunged into his arm.
He shrieked in pain and then screamed as his power flared to break free from the devil's grip. The holy power bathed the devil in armor. The wings burned with energy that held the benevolent creation of God.
"They said you are Michael the kind. Yet, it was pretty ironic that you are not the wise leader of the Seraphim as well as the oldest among the angels. An Archangel, am I right?" Anathema said bluntly, only stabbing his sword further into the Seraphim's arm.
"You... Don't you dare to defile that sacred title with your mouth, Anathema. A being that violates the most fundamental law of existence, a being like you shall never be allowed to stay here, let alone rebut His holy design." Michael roared at the top of his lungs, forcing his bone to crack, and eventually, his hand severed.
"I must say, I admire your determination." Anathema withdrew, flying to the sky.
Michael took his severed arm, placing it into his wound. With his power, the tissue and his bone began to heal. He winced in pain as the wound slowly faded.
Clenching his palm several times, Michael boasted his power, enveloping himself in a maelstrom of holy power. He picks up the spear slowly, scanning to seek any flaws.
"I don't understand," He muttered.
Then, a strong wind blasted his holy power, utterly destroying his protection.
"A foolish choice to hide behind that maelstrom," Anathema stated emotionlessly.
"What did you do to my spear, Anathema?!" Michael roared and lunged at the devil. The spear meets the blade. Still, the black blade did not burn with the previous powerful flame.
"Still blind, huh? It may help you to see the world better, Michael." Anathema punched the devil on his cheek, breaking the wind and shattering the sound barrier.
"YOU!" Michael lost anything that resembled him as the kindest angel. Now, he is fury incarnate, seeking vengeance for his Father. He grief with metaphysical injuries, feeling pain from his creator.
"Michael. Poor creation from a blinded Lord." Anathema said wistfully, devoted from any animosity. Something about that word did not utter anger from the Seraphim's chest.
It was something utterly different. When he peered deep into his own feelings, Michael's eyes widened in shock.
"Can you feel it? Now can you see?" As the devil's words came to his ears, they deeply penetrated Michae's core.
The spear itself is not the spear of destruction. Some of the fundamental concepts had been altered by Anathema with his unknown power.
Then, a realization hit him like lightning.
The True Ether was its foundation as the flame forged it deep into his spear. A concept of creation manifested from the regression caused by the True Ether imbued with the blue flame that erases the meaning of concepts.
They create a paradox.
A paradox prison for the concept of destruction.
"This is madness. How a being like you exist is a curse, Anathema." The prison itself is a violation of the most fundamental force in the universe, let alone capable of containing the concept of destruction itself.
"Still blind, huh... Look around you," Anathema said without any trace of emotions in his tone.
Slowly regaining his composure, Michael did what the devil asked. His eyes widen as they fill with terror. His body trembled in fear as his face paled like a corpse.
As far as he can see, only destruction and disaster. The sea is boiling with magma from the earth's core, the sun is blackened with clouds of the raging storm, and the ground is cracked with wrath.
"Your Father's judgment, you say." Anathema's voice said coldly. "I see nothing other than destructions, Archangel."
A burst of True Ether bathes him and the reality around him. A power from creation that brought the Truth.
"Get out of my head!" Michael roared, grabbing his head in pain.
"Still persistent. I must admit, that was remarkable." Anathema said neutrally. "Look at my eyes,"
Michael raised his head. And right before him, he saw the cursed creature stand before him, eyes of red staring directly into his soul.
What Michael saw next is utterly beyond terrifying. Destruction on a scale beyond anything he had witnessed as the mental wounds in his soul ripped open.
Screams of terror and despair.
The unheard cries rang across the destroyed civilization.
They were burned with black flame.
Then, something happens. The spear began to shudder as Anathema released the seal one by one. Yet, he still uses the concept to alter the spear's power.
Michael's eyes bleed as blood pours from his ears.
Anathema withdrew from the angel's sight. He stared deeply into the angel's miserable state.
"What... What was that?" Michael let out blood from his mouth.
Anathema did not answer, standing still without moving.
"I don't understand any of your intentions." Michael grabs his spear, pointing it at the devil, even though he can sense something is wrong with his spear.
Yet, Michael could not understand the logic behind the sealing, the visions, and even why that abomination released part of his seal. Nothing makes sense.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE FROM ME?!" Michael shouted in anger, ignoring his pain.
"In the future, your Father will die. When He dies, the real path shall come for you, Michael. I need your help." At this moment, Michael could barely understand.
A help? Why does this abomination need his help?
"Don't you ever dream abou-"
"Your Father was already aware of his demise. That was why you know the culprit behind your Father's injuries." Anathema said bluntly. "The fate began to unfold, Michael."
But the Seraphim did not listen, raising his spear as he immediately stabbed it back to the earth. The ground shatters once again, and the earthquake wreaks havoc.
At the same time, Anathema can feel a foreign power becoming closer and closer.
"The Golden Path had begun to reveal itself. I think you will come to your sense after a few hundred years, Michael."
Gabriel cannot feel her hand again. Her white and regal armor had been stained with her own blood. Various cuts and bruises filled her body as her wings had been damaged.
Her power had depleted, leaving the once mighty angel vulnerable to any threat.
Powerless as she is only barely able to hold her feet.
In contrast to her, the devil stands still with his spear in hand. His eyes watched the wounded angel with inhuman concentration that left no weakness to exploit.
His black armor was unscathed, the flawless dark armor shining in the destruction. Her enemy stood proudly, emanating the power of dominance.
"How you manage to use the sacred Oculus spearmanship arts of the church? And how you were able to combine it with other branches. It was impossible." Gabriel said while holding pain all over her body.
When Gabriel recounted how much spearmanship the devil had unleashed, it made her unable to think clearly. All of them are sacred arts belonging to the church and its holy armies.
Those perfectly crafted executions prowess were bestowed and taught by the angels in order to slay Holy Father's enemies, purge the unclean, and burn the wicked. They are designed to be instruments of destruction that resonate with each other, perfectly calculated as they cannot be mastered by the same performer.
Although it was flawlessly created to be the keeper of balance. This devil brought that with his sheer prowess. He created an entirely new spearmanship. A combination of dozens of master-crafted techniques creates an impossible combination that does not make sense to Gabriel's knowledge.
That deadly precision made her bleed, crushing her armor and even destroying her magical wards. The spear itself is just an ordinary weapon, only a peerless weapon that is made to kill. Yet, that weapon can pierce her defense like nothing stands between her flesh and the cold steel.
"I will tell you something, Seraphim. You know that we are gifted by our master. But you are blind to his intention," The scion of Anathema said dangerously. "We are created with a purpose. A purpose that is beyond your mortal mind to understand."
"Mortal? I'm an angel, a Seraphim who held the highest mantle in heaven before my own Father." Gabriel narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to heal her wounds.
"You call Lord Rennias Anathema, aren't you." It was not a question. Instead, it was a statement.
"I don't see any coloration about your circumstance, devil," Gabriel asked with a sign of pain in her voice.
"Anathema also means someone who is utterly separated from supposedly the truth. Thus, anyone will see him as a being that should not be understood. He is someone that sees something exceeding that path, a person that holds the power to see beyond. He is the only one there, persaw something we can't." The devil said with neutrality bordering emotionless, hand clenching deeper into his spear.
"An abomination like him could only see nothing. A creature that should not be existed shall never be able to see that path. He is different, which will lead us to our downfall. You, devils, did not know what kind of fire you were playing with." The Seraphim replied with bloodshot eyes.
"You are mistaken, Gabriel. I saw that path. I also know what kind of world your Father intended to create. A beautiful world indeed, yet it only brings us to stagnation. Lord Rennias showed me something that made your Father's dream pale in comparison. My power is one of his untold instruments to bend infinite destiny to craft that future." The Anathema's devil rose his spear as green-colored veins glowed beneath his armor.
Gabriel's eyes opened wide at the unfathomable power unveiled by the Anathema's blessed. This devil's entire existence screamed about power, but in a close glance and magical sensing, it was more than that.
A primordial form of mystery and conceptualization of ideas and dreams.
Gabriel recalled the moment Michael lost his most genuine smile, replaced by an aura of righteous retribution. Even with a slight recognition, Gabriel can feel that change was an aspect that her Father had planted inside Michael's soul.
She has a suspicion about why her Father had done that. But, the answer she sought at that moment only led to an answer that made her nearly immortal life suffer.
It was about Michael's second role as executioner, wielder of a spear created only for destruction.
She did not have any chance to see that particular spear by herself. But in this war, she witnesses the true might of that spear.
A cursed spear made from the concept of destruction itself. Due to her angelic origin, Gabriel can feel the unnatural power of the spear. The earth screamed as the sky itself bled to answer the spear.
It was a power that moved the world to serve its wielder's will.
And that power is also here, right before her eyes. The devil shines in the green light, slowly bending the rule of the world around him.
"I must admit the process of becoming something like what I am right now is painful. But it was worth it." The devil mused.
"You want to kill me, abomination?" Gabriel asked as she only saw that outcome as the highest potential future.
"Even I will be more than content to deliver that mercy upon you, Seraphim. I couldn't," He stated neutrally. His eyes could not be read, and his emotions were completely sealed beneath an impenetrable mental wall.
"W-Why? Isn't it a good chance for you? To prove yourself to your master and devil society?" Gabriel shouted with her face clouded with questions.
"Indeed. But I care less for the devil. Furthermore, the Satans," The abomination speak with venom as if he wants to spit when he mentioned them. "My loyalty is to him and him alone that I will spill my own blood for his goal. And to achieve that goal, my lord ordered me not to kill you."
"I'm a Seraphim. What anything else more tempting than my death?" Gabriel asked, narrowing her eyes. She ensured that her demeanor stood between genuine confusion and not trying to draw as much information as possible.
"Your trick wouldn't work on me, Seraphim Gabriel," The devil smirked. "But I will amuse you. The reason is quite simple, Lord Rennias wants you alive because he needs angels to stay life."
"Wha-What?" Gabriel is baffled by the answer, staring at the devil with widened eyes.
"I won't repeat myself, Seraphim Gabriel," The devil said firmly, tightening his grip on his spear.
"He wants us to stay life? Don't put your trickery on me, Anathema choosen!" Gabriel shouted in a fury. It was beyond her intended creation, as rage was not part of Gabriel's essence.
Thus, slowly the white wing of the Seraphim turned black.
"It will be a shame that you will fall here, Seraphim Gabriel." The devil said neutrally, staring deep into the female angel's eyes.
"What do you-!" Gabriel was beyond shocked as her eyes laid on her wings. The tip of the supposedly holy wing is tainted by a black pattern. "Impossible,"
"You weren't intended to be created to deliver your Father's wrath and retribution. You are his benevolent paragon of Him. You have denied your origin, earning punishment as a result." He stated, never leaving his gaze on the Seraphim.
"I don't understand," Gabriel said carefully. "I demand an answer, Anathema's choosen!"
"Even if I had the answer, I wouldn't tell you. You have your own time to know, Seraphim Gabriel." the black-armored devil turned his back, flying away from the angel.
"Wait!' Gabriel shouted desperately, flying as fast as she could.
Before she came close to the devil, a powerful blow landed on her abdomen. Gabriel coughed blood; her body slammed to the ground by the sheer force of the punch.
"It was a futile pursuit, Seraphim Gabrile. Besides, you have no power left to fight me." The armored devil said, narrowing his eyes.
"Why... Did you care?" Gabriel said in pain.
The devil did not answer, staring deep into the poor condition of the once mighty Seraphim. The white wings surely surrendered to its corruption, turning black in return.
The devil descends carefully. Gabriel glared at him with a mixed feelings of confusion and fury. The Anathema's choosen kneeled, using his magical power to keep the female angel still.
"Personally, I didn't." The devil kneeled near the angel; his face showed no sentiment besides determination. "But my master care,"
His concentration is paramount as intense magical energy accumulates within his palm, forming a sphere of energy. Gabriel's eyes widened in shock when the arcane energy touched her sense.
"What... That power, not even the gods possess that." Gabriel claimed, staring in both awe and fear.
The power within the devil's palm is beyond her; only Her Father alone manages to harness the power of conceptual forging. This devil uses the same technique on a different scale.
It was not exotic like his Father's works. It was not also exoteric in the Seventh Heaven's forge.
But this devil's mastery of the conceptual forging is akin to siphoning a song. It manipulates the fabric of reality like the wind blows the cloud over the horizon.
Something disturbs her serene mind. If this devil can use conceptual forging, what about the rest of Anathema's choosen?
Anathema himself is on another level. His complete mastery over True Ether is something beyond any supernatural being to cover.
"Hold still," The devil placed the sphere on her chest.
Endless magical power surged inside her body, overwriting the essence of her life force. Then, she felt corruption within her soul and body being cleansed.
Corruption of the Fallen is a curse and a condemnation for the angels. Their eternal oblivion set them apart from the Heaven system. Thus, blessings of their Father would not come to their Fallen siblings.
It was anathema for her to follow Azazel and his peers. Utterly separated from her Father is the most painful way to spend her life. Knowing her wings turned black, she would rather die.
But to her surprise, this helps her because of his master's command. It was unthinkable for a devil to help an angel; moreover, she is a Seraphim.
In his eyes, there is no sincerity. Yet, there was also no coercion emanating from his gesture. This man only performed his duty with utmost obedience.
The black taint on her wings slowly but surely disappeared.
The ached sensation in her chest vanished as the corruption was nowhere to be seen in her soul. The corruption had been cleansed.
"To be honest to you and me. I would love to cleave your head off. But due to my master's order, I couldn't." The devil said with a neutrality that made Gabriel wonder if this devil was serious with his words or not.
Gabriel dared not utter, staring at the man with an emotional mask to hide her fear. His obedience to his master is something more than remarkable.
"You said you saw a certain path from your master. Can I know what it is?" Gabriel asks softly. She did not want to offend him, as he had just saved her from the pit of oblivion.
He did not answer, solely focusing on cleansing Gabriel's taint. Gabriel expected this response, lowering her gaze to avoid his face.
"A beautiful path." His sudden voice made Gabriel stare at him again. "That is a beautiful path beyond anything."
Gabriel chooses to remain silent. She wanted to know more, and at the same time, she did not want to invite any of his ire. The corruption did not take long to fully purge from the Seraphim's body.
The Anathema's choosen stand, walking away from the Seraphim.
"You will witness it when the time comes, Seraphim Gabriel," He replied slowly. "As you witness it, you will understand the truth. But before that, I suggest you retreat back to your line."
"Why," Gabriel asked.
"The battle in this place will escalate into something more. Retreat as soon as possible," He said, opening his wings before quickly disappearing from Gabriel's view.
Serafall cannot breathe as blood keep flowing from her fatal wound. The once mighty Sitri only stared at the female devil who had been chosen by Rennias. Even with her dull magical sensing, Serafall can sense the power within the female Colus' body.
It was alien, much like Rennias. Yet, it was significantly dimmer.
Then, Gabriel's words came to her mind once again. She shuddered as tears began to reform themselves in her eyes.
Rennias, who had fought alongside her. The man who had brought her army victories over victories in Holy Land Theatre.
"Ren-tan," Serafall said in between her hitched breath.
"Milady, just hang on. You will be fine," They landed inside the destroyed structure of a church. Using a small pulse of magical energy, Athlesia created a Bounded Field.
"Milady," Athlesia said, pressing the wound while her magic circuits flared with magical energy. A root-like line materialized on Serafall's body, healing the nearly mortal wound.
"A... Athlesia," Serafall called.
"Yes, milady," The said devil replied softly.
"Ren... Rennias. Tell me... About Rennias... Did that damned angel say was true?" The weak devil only weeping with tears, staring at the half-devil.
Athlesia did not answer, choosing to remain silent. It made Serafall's pain in her chest grow. Serafall's hand raises as if she wants to grab something.
"Don't leave me, Ren-tan. Don't leave me alone." She said in her sobs. Countless fragmented memories poured into her mind.
It was joy beyond anything she had felt since she was born.
It was his gentle smile. Warm as it brought another one on her face. He is gone forever. She would never feel Rennias' caring love again.
"Milady," Athlesia's voice brings back the broken devil to her sense. "I can't say it for now, but I'm entirely sure that Lord Rennias is love and cares about you."
Serafall huffed, glaring at her with a blank look. "Love? That... Thing can love?"
"His love is genuine, milady," Athlesia replied carefully.
"Even if that was indeed love. Then what kind of love is it?" Serafall argued, still maintaining her blank look.
The half-devil did not answer as her eyes stared at the ground. Athlesia did not dare to directly meet the Sitri's eyes, trying to conceal much of her emotion from the Sitri devil.
"All of you... Are alien to me," Serafall said emotionlessly. "First, I ignore it. But now it became imminent as Ren-tan did not bother to hide his power anymore. Facing the Creator without any issue, battling the entire church's armies like they are nothing, dueling with Michael. And even creating a being like you,"
"I can't deny it either, milady. I don't know what Lord Rennias was like before he met me. But that will protect others. The feeling for someone like you is genuine." Athlesia smiled wistfully.
"I see... I see," Serafall withdrew her gaze from Athlesia, deciding to stare at the red heaven. "I want to ask him about it. I want to know."
"Are you sure, milady? I think it only worsens your condition. Lord Rennias' answer would not reveal your answer." In Athlesia's voice, fear is paramount. Yet, beneath that tone, filled with a mixed sentiment that her face and mouth failed to express.
"I don't care!" Serafall shouted in desperation. "I don't care. I want an answer from him!"
The sudden outburst brought shock and confusion to the half-devil. The calm demeanor of the Sitri shattered as there was no commander persona nor the jovial nature of Serafall Sitri. Athelesia only sees one emotion, desperation to its lowest form.
Tears slowly streamed down from Serafall's eyes. Her eyes turned red, lips pursed.
"At least I want to know if something remains within that cold eyes. Rennias... I want to know that Rennias I know is there, locked behind those impenetrable cold voids." Serafall voice was buried within her sobbing noise.
Slowly, Serafall reaches her neck. From beneath her armor, she pulled a beautifully crafted necklace. "I still remember his smile when he gives this to me."
The smile did not shine like a sun. A genuine smile melted her heart from every burden and horror of war. It was a simple smile that brought her hope.
His gentle hand slowly touched her neck and coiled the priceless necklace.
"I don't want to admit that gentle smile is a fake," Serafall hitched in pain and sorrow. "I won't believe it... I won't believe it."
Athlesia watched the miserable condition of the Sitri. The physical wound slowly closed with the passing of time and her healing power.
Yet, something did not fit right.
There are scars slowly eroding the regal presence of the Serafall. Scars that swallow her deeper in her cries and misery.
Scars that cannot be healed by her power. In fact, she can. Although it will cost more than earned. Memory can be altered, but love shall leave an unerasable mark.
"Tell me, Athlesia. What did you see from him?" Serafall asked as sadness bluntly radiated from her voice, eyes still soaked in tears.
Athlesia is slightly taken aback by the question. She ponders for a while, choosing the correct answer. The bitter taste bathed her mouth. Athlesia carefully recalls the moment Lord Rennias gifted his power.
"I can't say much due to Lord Rennias' restriction," Athlesia whispered.
"I don't mind." Serafall is ready, smiling weakly at the half-devil.
Athlesia steeled herself, closing her eyes and searching for the right words to utter to the poor Sitri. She did not want to hurt the already devastated Serafall Sitri.
"Due to our past, we hate all noble devils. We are born from our mother's womb like cattle. They breed us to serve as their armies. We are tools to serve this pointless war." Athlesia remembers the day she was raised in the facility, witnessing the unspeakable horrors that countless devils have done to her mother and countless others.
Serafall did know about the facility. It was unspeakably blasphemous, even downright evil to her entire family. It will be deemed an unforgivable act in her family's realm, as death is only forgiveness for it.
"Before we met with Lord Rennias, we always used as cannon fodder. They intentionally stationed us in a suicidal position. Countless times death tries to claim our souls." Athlesia felt chills on her spine. Even though the wounds had healed, the phantom pain remains whenever she remembers it.
"You must hate nobles like us, right?" Serafall said in a voice near a whisper.
"Yes, I am," Athlesia admitted, lowering her gaze. "But that wasn't the case anymore."
"Why? I don't understand," The heiress of Sitri asked in confusion.
"Lord Rennias gives everything we always wanted since we are born. Power, knowledge, and equality of worth to live." Her eyes shine in hope, smiling wistfully as is an ironic expression.
"Why? Is there any particular reason he did that?" The situation became even denser. Serafall watched the half-blood clench her palm, sucking as much air as possible into her lungs.
"Lord Rennias is contrastingly different than any of us. He sees something we don't. He extends his hand to us, giving us blessings of his might.' Athlesia's magic circuits began to emerge from beneath her skin, shining neon green. "This is one of them, the power to harness the concept of reality and use it in our favor. Milord also granted us the power of countless soldiers, warriors, and magicians to our spiritual veins."
"Why did he give those things to you?" The thoughts about the power's potential are ludicrous.
"He saw our worth and loyalty," Said Athlesia, eyes did not dare to stare at the Sitri.
"Loyalty? I don't see any of you would swear loyalty to a pure-blooded devil," Serafall rebutted.
"Lord Rennias is indeed a pure-blooded devil. But he is different from any of us." Athlesia retorted neutrally.
"He is far separated from us. Mightier and wiser than us. When Lord Rennias created this miracle for us, I saw no devil or the pure-blood devil. Only a man with power and ever-present force. He is cold and uncaring, yet he is kind and empathetic." She recalls the moment Rennias had given her power. A being outside every boundary stands like a paragon of destruction and creation. A being that also felt so close to her, as if he had the same fate.
"Rennias," Serafall mumbled in her sadness. "Please, continue."
"I don't know how you portrayed Lord Rennias. But this Lord Rennias is more than worthy to I swear allegiance with. He is a noble person. I'm totally sure about it." Athlesia raises her palm from Serafall's stomach, revealing the fully healed mortal wound.
Serafalll stared at the heaven, pondering Athlesia's words. Rennias is a benevolent man who stands with the brightest virtue. She wondered if that beautiful smile had forever gone, replaced by an unknown figure that perfectly imitated her beloved.
He was not Rennias. He was someone else.
Her heart bleeds with pain, breath hitches as Serafall is suffocated. The truth is too much for her to handle, filling her chest with pain. The overwhelming sentiment of hatred clouded her mind.
She wants to shout, releasing her from her torments. Yet, it died in her throat as she remembered Rennias' smile.
She refuses to believe it. But the pain grows deeper into her soul whenever she tries to deny it.
"Milady," The calm and regal voice of Athlesia called her.
"Athlesia," Serafall muttered, staring at the half-blood's eyes.
"Don't hurt yourself by it. Just talk to milord," She reassured the poor heiress.
"What if he hates me after that? I can't... I can't look into his eyes anymore. He wasn't him... He wasn't. But... why is he so kind to me? I mean nothing to him. His power, wisdom, and commanding power far exceed mine. Why? he did this" Serafall talked to herself.
"He loves you, milady." Said Athlesia with a smile.
"How did you know!" Serafall shouted. "It's impossible for him to love me."
"Then, you will say that necklace as fake?" Athlesia shouted in rage, feeling insulted due to Serafall's disrespect to her Lord.
Serafall was suddenly petrified by the statement. The bluntly stated sentence pierced her soul.
"This... I...I don't know," Said Serafall in a tone that was close to a whisper.
"I will tell you something about that necklace, Lady Serafall." Athlesia smiled with her warm figure, giving the poor Sitri a glimmer of hope. "That necklace is one among Lord Rennias' finest creations."
"This necklace? No... It would be impossible," Serafall knew this necklace was just for her. A normal necklace that became this impostor's gift to assure her that Rennias was still alive. Nothing can explain otherwise.
"That necklace saved you in this war more than a dozen times, milady." Said the half-blood calmly, smiling with kindness.
"Saved me? Don't be ridiculous! " The Sitri barked in a fury, eyes staring deeply into Athlesia's soul.
"Your fight with Gabriel would be more fatal. Your death should have happened when Kokabiel invaded Sitri's territory. You feel it, aren't you, Lady Serafall? Whether you are aware or not, the reality has changed in your favor. That is your gift, gifted directly by Lord Rennias." Athlesia whispered.
It sends deadly chills to Serafall's bone and flesh.
Something beneath her chest wanted it to be a genuine sentiment from Rennias. Yet, on the other end of the spectrum, she did not trust her words.
"Impossible," Serafall mumbled.
"He wants to protect you, safeguarding you from anything." Athlesia rebutted.
"He is far from Rennias I knew. How can you be sure? He is different. He is not Rennias Zagan." Serafall growled, "Again, he created you and your brother's power. Why? Is that love or pity? Or just another person that held value in his hand."
"Only he knows, milady." Athlesia lowered her gaze.
"Then why would you agree in his endeavor, Athlesia?" Serafall replied coldly.
"The plan of his is the main reason for my loyalty to him," The female half-blood stated firmly.
"Plan?" The dots starting to connect themselves. Serafall grabbed her necklace as her hand shook in tremor. "Tell me, Athlesia. Are we just puppets in the string of his hand?"
Athlesia did not answer. The implication is right before her as it would lead to the truth that is too severe to be stated.
"I'm afraid the answer is yes, milady." The answer is enough to make Serafall throw her necklace and confront the devil. But, a little voice in her heart yelled against it. Something deep in her sentiments proved to be the main reason why Serafall could not believe Athlesia's statement.
"We are fools, then." Serafall's face is darkened by her own emotions.
"Neither of us, milady." Athlesia quickly objected.
"Are you blind, Athlesia? Are those powers blinding you?!" The Sitri shouted in desperation, tears streaming out from her eyes.
"It is based on my own will to follow him." She said, closing her eyes in resignation.
"What?" Serafall's grip on her necklace grows tighter.
"The example is that necklace. He is protecting you from any dangers that can kill you. His feeling for us is sincere." The Anathema's chosen speak fluently.
"Sincere?! Then why is he using me? Me?! Of all people to be his pawn?! His interactions, memories, and habits are all the same. That confirms that Rennias' memories still linger within his body. But why? If that was sincere, why?" Serafall could not find the logic behind this conversation. As if they only turned around and around in a circle of paradox.
"Like what I've said prior. He is mightier and wiser than us." Athlesia retorted.
"Cease with this blind zealotry!" Serafall shouted somberly. "I want an answer. Just a single answer that you can't provide me with it."
Athlesia did not reply, studying the atmosphere to find the perfect answer. "Moments when he gives us his power, I saw his true color."
"I hope it is your proper answer." Serafall snarled. "The only thing bordering me to freeze you is your answer."
Athlesia cleared her throat, opening her mouth to utter the words. But it did not happen as explosions of burning holy energy kindled across the horizon.
"Milady!" Athlesia shouted, shielding Serafall from the blast.
"This energy," Serafall growled. "The fallen!"
After the explosions disappear, countless magic circles manifest from thin air. All of them bear the sigils of the strongest Cadre. The three-way war had just begun.
"Hehehehehe!" A maniacal chuckle echoed through the air. "YOu devils and angels shall perish from this existence as we shall become the ruler of the new world!"
"The extremists, huh." Said Athlesia in a whisper.
Seraall did not say a word, only stared darkly into the incoming enemies. The fallen's magi circles also manifested on the land, summoning hordes of abominations.
"Let the slaughter begin!"
Thanks for reading
Next up: A Will to Protect