The Great War was brutal and claimed countless lives, a cataclysmic conflict between three formidable factions: the Angels led by the God of the Bible, the Fallen under Azazel, and the Devils commanded by the four Great Satans. Each faction fought fiercely, driven by pride and the desire for supremacy.
In the veins of devils, arrogance and pride flowed as naturally as blood, an intrinsic part of their nature. They reveled in their victories, mocking their defeated enemies with disdain, much like a man might laugh at a crushed insect.
The devils, embody the evils that humans and other supernatural beings despise. Born in the dark depths of the Underworld, we serve our superiors and revere strength above all else. Devil society is strictly hierarchical, divided into four classes: Low, Middle, High, and the Ultimate class, the latter being the apex of devilkind. The lower ranks are compelled to serve and obey their superiors, creating a rigid structure where the majority, the low-class devils, form the bulk of Satan's army.
This war exacted a heavy toll on all sides. The devils, for instance, saw the annihilation of three of the seventy-two pillar houses and the loss of millions of low-class devils.
The conflict escalated into a massacre, sparing no one from its savage ferocity. Innocent lives were caught in the relentless crossfire, victims of a war that seemed to have no end and no mercy.
Somewhere in the Underworld, a battlefield raged above the city ruled by the Sitri clan. Amidst the chaos, a middle-class female devil found herself locked in fierce combat with the angels.
"Take this as your judgment, devils!" an angel commander bellowed. At his command, hundreds of his men unleashed a barrage of holy spears.
The woman, her green hair flowing and her blazing amber eyes focused, dodged the onslaught with all the speed she could muster. All around her, comrades fell, their bodies disintegrated by the holy spears. Soldiers and civilians alike turned to ashes in the relentless assault.
Clad in pitch-black armor that shielded her upper body and parts of her lower half, her eyes reflected determination, though her heart harbored a deep loyalty and kindness towards her kin. She was a soldier of the Underworld, the vanguard of her people.
"WHY DO YOU FOLLOW THAT ARROGANT GOD!?" she cried out, her voice seething with hatred towards her enemies.
She raised her hands to the sky, conjuring a green magical barrier to shield the remaining citizens below. But the reality of the battlefield proved too harsh, as many of the holy spears penetrated her shield.
Her eyes fixed on the ground she was desperate to protect. Trembling with horror, she watched her people scream in agony, their bodies pierced by countless spears. Their suffering and deaths, her inability to shield them, weighed heavily on her.
Innocent blood stained the ruins of the city, bodies strewn about with expressions of fear and terror. She bit her lip in frustration, feeling their pain as her own, the blood of her comrades pooling around her.
Driven by a desperate resolve, she pressed forward, her sole remaining strength a fierce will to protect. She cast aside her pride, determined to kill any opponent left, no matter the cost or her own injuries.
"HAAAAAA!" Her scream echoed across the battlefield as she tore into her foes with savage fury.
Her lethal strikes, infused with magical power, shredded the two-winged angels as if they were made of paper. Her movements were a deadly dance, and the angels soon recognized the formidable figure before them. She was Anatesha Zagan, the most powerful four-winged devil from the Sitri family.
Despite having only four wings, Anatesha's energy rivaled that of an eight-winged devil. Her prowess as a soldier far exceeded what her wing count suggested, enabling her to obliterate enemies up to six-winged with considerable effort. Consequently, the enemy sent extra forces to eliminate her.
Like a comet, she broke through enemy lines, channeling her magical energy into her right hand to forge an emerald sword. With this new weapon, the green-haired devil moved with even greater speed, her strikes filled with unyielding rage. She decapitated her enemies with impossible slashes, her every move a testament to her relentless determination.
The angels watched in horror as their brothers and sisters were slaughtered by a single devil, her desperate attempts to protect her people driving her into a frenzied rampage.
Suddenly, her path was blocked by a new force—a formidable eight-winged angel. He stood tall in gleaming white armor and a flowing white robe, his handsome face framed by blonde hair and his eyes a piercing crimson.
"GET AWAY FROM MY SIGHT!" Anatesha's blood boiled, her gaze seething with animosity.
The eight-winged angel met her fury with calm resolve. "Devil, our duty is to banish all of you to purgatory."
Their weapons clashed as their magical energies ignited, a blazing purple light filling the battlefield. Anatesha's aura of hatred shone brightly, contrasting starkly with the angel's divine presence. Despite her fury, she maintained a calm exterior, her movements fluid and deliberate.
Green and gold energy wreaked havoc on the battlefield as their magical powers collided. Anatesha knew that any mistake against such a powerful opponent could lead to her demise.
The angel moved with blinding speed, but Anatesha adapted, employing hit-and-run tactics to parry his attacks. Each clash sent jolts of pain through her, a grim reminder of the disparity in their strengths.
"Why are you so persistent, filthy devil? This is our Lord's gift to your race!"
Anatesha's rage became unbearable, her magical energy raging like a storm. "Gift? What kind of gift is that, murdering our race with cold hearts? Tell your Lord we devils don't need any of His 'gifts!'"
The angel raised his sword, chanting angelic words that transformed it into a pillar of pure light. Its presence was so intense that even nearby devils felt their skin burn.
Anatesha faced the overwhelming aura with a heavy sigh, preparing for the worst. She sharpened her senses, her concentration reaching its peak. "Regret everything you said just now, you dirty devil. Now enter into the eternal void of purgatory."
The angel's sword descended, consuming her magical aura. As it neared her, she felt her skin burning as if she were inside a massive oven. She closed her eyes, focusing through the pain, and suddenly, her suffering lessened.
Anatesha gathered all her remaining strength, concentrating it into her sword. As their weapons clashed, the angel could feel her energy waning. But this was her plan—using the clash as a distraction, she vanished from his perception.
From behind the blinding light, Anatesha reappeared, her green sword slicing through the blonde angel's body. The angel shrieked in pain as his torso was nearly split in half. Anatesha didn't stop; she drove her sword through his neck, decapitating him.
Silence fell over the battlefield. Anatesha watched as her opponent's body dissolved into light particles, the angels stunned by the death of their leader at the hands of a four-winged devil.
Anatesha stood barely conscious, her body covered in burns, her skin pale from blood loss. Yet, she had won, a fleeting joy filling her heart.
But the moment of triumph was short-lived. The angels, snapping out of their shock, sought vengeance for their fallen commander. More light spears formed in their hands, and in an instant, they rained down upon the city.
Explosions rocked the ground, transforming the once-majestic city into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Dead bodies littered the streets, including children. It was a massacre.
Anatesha cursed her fate, knowing reinforcements had yet to arrive. Despair gripped her heart as she faced the grim reality of their situation, the cries of her fallen comrades echoing in her ears.
Activating her magic circle, Anatesha unleashed a barrage of emerald energy balls towards the enemy lines, each one striking true. Half a dozen angels with two wings fell instantly, their bodies disintegrating under the force of her attack. With the last reserves of her magical energy, she entered a relentless rampage.
The angels must die! Her mind raced with singular focus, as sharp and clear as the calm before a storm. Anatesha's every move was precise and deadly. She swung her sword with unyielding ferocity, severing limbs and ending lives without hesitation. Grabbing an angel with both hands, she ripped off its wings with a chilling, emotionless gaze.
"Is she a four-winged devil?!" cried a female angel, her voice quivering as she watched the carnage unfold.
"It doesn't matter! She is a threat to our Lord and to us. We must banish her! Brothers and sisters, with me!" the substitute commander shouted, brandishing his spear of light.
The angels rallied, their weapons glowing with lethal intent. The sky filled with shimmering spears of light, each one a harbinger of death aimed at Anatesha. But she refused to succumb.
Anatesha extended her arm, focusing all her energy into a single form—her finest magical sword. A long greatsword materialized, its blade simple yet adorned with a green jewel in the center. The aura it emitted was paralyzing, an embodiment of her bloodlust and sorrow.
The sword, a perfect replica of her grief and pain, was a conceptual weapon beyond even the capabilities of the great Satans. It was a miracle of the supernatural world, a nameless blade that had reaped countless lives.
"That sword! Retreat now!" the commander screeched, terror filling his eyes as he beheld the weapon in Anatesha's hands.
A brilliant light burst forth as she raised her sword to the sky. Hundreds of radiant streaks shot down like meteors, each one targeting an angel within Anatesha's reach. Their fates were sealed.
Anatesha swung her sword in a powerful vertical arc. This was not a mere physical attack but a curse embedded in the very fabric of cause and effect. It was a devastating spell that transferred the consequences of her swing to all marked by her curse.
In an instant, the angels' bodies split in half, dissolving into particles of light that ascended to heaven. The battlefield fell silent; her enemies were no more.
Though victorious, Anatesha paid a heavy price. Her body trembled, pushed beyond its limits. Her vision darkened as her consciousness began to fade. She could no longer feel her arms, and her senses dulled.
But she smiled, a serene and satisfied expression crossing her face. She had saved her remaining people, proving that she did not fail them. With her single wish to protect the Sitri's territory fulfilled, Anatesha, the strongest of the four-winged devils, finally succumbed to exhaustion and fainted.
The void, as before, enveloped Anatesha in its oppressive emptiness. Within this boundless darkness, the cosmos unfolded, revealing its infinite expanse. It was a place beyond dimensions, where Anatesha felt minuscule and powerless.
When she turned her gaze towards the source of this enigmatic realm, she recognized a familiar form within the void. A green-haired, naked woman stared back at her with sapphire eyes and pale skin, her face a mirror image of Anatesha's own.
Tears welled up in Anatesha's eyes, a profound sense of longing gripping her heart. Her sister's presence shook her to her core, a face she had yearned to see, a face that had been lost to her not long ago.
Anatesha's thoughts drifted back to that tragic day, the day her sister's beautiful body had turned to ashes, her smile fading away in Anatesha's arms. The war had taken everything from her, everything except her niece.
I failed her.
"Sister..." Anatesha's voice trembled as she spoke.
She snapped out of her reverie and locked eyes with her sister. The subtle, sincere gaze seemed to pierce straight into her soul.
Her sister smiled, and with a silent reply, a surge of magical energy flowed into Anatesha's body.
"Take care of him," her sister's soft voice echoed, the final words Anatesha would hear in this dreamlike state.
As the words faded, Anatesha felt a renewed strength coursing through her. The void began to dissolve, and she knew she had a mission to fulfill. Her sister's wish became her own, and with that resolve, Anatesha's consciousness returned to the waking world.
Anatesha awoke in a medical tent, her body aching with every attempt to rise from the mattress. She looked down and saw herself wrapped in bandages, each one a testament to the battle she had barely survived.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she took in the scene around her. It was a sight that tore her heart into a thousand pieces. "Mama!" a small devil child cried out beside his mother's lifeless body, half of which had disintegrated into dust. The sight was pitiful, a stark reminder of the merciless devastation of war.
The nightmare extended further as Anatesha's gaze moved across the tent. Dozens of beds lined up, occupied by badly injured soldiers and civilians. Her heart stopped as she took in the extent of their injuries. Many had lost limbs, and some were burned beyond recognition. The worst were those lying within special magic circles, their organs destroyed, kept alive only by the barest threads of magic.
The phoenix tears, once a beacon of hope for such injuries, had been diverted to the front lines where the Satans fought. Anatesha clenched her fists, blood boiling with frustration. Despite her powers, even those beyond the highest devils' abilities, she was powerless to save everyone.
Resolute, she pushed herself up and snapped her fingers, summoning her armor. With a determined stride, she left the medical tent.
Outside, the city lay in ruins. Injured civilians and soldiers were being treated by medics amidst the rubble. The air was thick with groans of pain and the sobs of those who had lost loved ones. Anatesha felt a deep unease in her chest. The devastation etched on every face she saw only fueled her anger, but she buried it deep inside. There was no room for pity; only actions could save them now.
As she moved through the wreckage, she spotted a little girl crying, her condition speaking volumes about her loss. With a bright smile, Anatesha approached her, exuding a gentle aura. She extended her hand to the girl.
"Let me help you find your parents," she said softly.
The girl nodded slowly and took Anatesha's hand. They walked together to the information center, each step a small act of comfort in the face of overwhelming sorrow.
At the information center, Anatesha knelt beside the girl. "Wait here," she said gently. The girl nodded again, her eyes wide and trusting.
Anatesha approached the information desk. "I want to report a missing girl," she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
"Sure, can you fill out this document first?" the administrator replied, handing her a form.
As Anatesha filled out the document, a joyful shout interrupted her. "Despina!" A woman's voice, full of happiness, rang out. Anatesha turned to see the girl running into the arms of her mother, whose face was a picture of gratefulness and relief.
Anatesha smiled softly, her heart warmed by the reunion. It was a small victory, a moment of light in the darkness. A mother's care, a reminder of what she was fighting for.
"Mama!" The joyful cry filled the air as mother and daughter reunited in a warm embrace. Anatesha watched, her heart lightened by the sight. It had happened faster than she expected, but that didn't matter. As long as this family was happy, that was enough for her.
"I think it's not necessary anymore," Anatesha said, pausing her writing.
The man at the desk tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"
Anatesha simply nodded towards the reunited family. The man's gaze followed hers, and he smiled warmly. "Thank you for your cooperation, miss," he said, giving her a light bow. Anatesha waved her hand in return, then walked away from the scene.
She soon spotted a group of two-winged devils, clearly soldiers by their apparel. Approaching them, she asked in a friendly tone, "Excuse me, do you have time?"
"Yes, what do you need?" replied the girl on the left, her expression dull.
Anatesha sweatdropped at the girl's lack of enthusiasm but maintained her polite demeanor. "I just want to know who is in charge here right now," she said smoothly, suppressing the urge to respond more harshly.
The other soldier, sensing the tension, grabbed his partner's shoulder and shook his head in disappointment. "I'm sorry about her attitude, miss. The war has taken its toll on all of us," he explained softly. Anatesha could sense the unease in his aura, a reflection of the scars the war had left on everyone's hearts.
"Don't worry about it," Anatesha replied, eager to end the awkward exchange. "Please, just answer my question, and I'll be on my way."
"Commander Valarak is in charge. He's at the central square right now," the soldier informed her. Anatesha nodded in acknowledgment and walked away.
As she moved through the devastated city, Anatesha couldn't help but reflect on the destruction around her. The once-majestic Sitri region lay in ruins, the air thick with the smell of blood and ashes. The war had taken everything from them.
Despite her anger and sadness, she had to maintain her composure. She was both a soldier and a maternal figure to those who depended on her. Memories of the past surfaced, offering a bittersweet comfort.
She remembered the days of peace and prosperity, when devils lived in harmony despite the strict bureaucratic order. The Sitri region had been a place of glory, where every wall and building stood firm. She and her sister's family would walk through the majestic city, their faces free of burden and suffering. Those days had been filled with laughter and a warm atmosphere.
Those were beautiful memories, now seemingly an illusion in contrast to the present. The perfect place for the new generation to grow into better, stronger devils had turned into a battlefield. The days of simple, carefree living had vanished, replaced by the harsh reality of war. The glory of the past was now just a memory, fading with each passing day.
Anatesha sighed deeply, her heart heavy with the loss. Yet, amidst the rubble and despair, she found strength in her memories. They reminded her of a future where her people could once again find peace and happiness. With a step, she headed towards the central square to meet Commander Valarak.
Her gaze settled on a man clad in black armor, a commander's badge affixed to his left upper arm. Steeling herself, Anatesha approached him.
"Are you Commander Valarak?" she asked, her tone direct.
The man looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a neutral expression. "Can I help you with something, miss?"
"My name is Anatesha Zagan, Chief Commander of this city's defense." The pride in her voice was unmistakable, a testament to her rank and accomplishments.
Commander Valarak's eyes widened in surprise. The legendary figure stood before him. News had just reached him: a single devil, green-haired and four-winged, had decimated an entire legion of angels. Her amber eyes had become a death sentence for her enemies, her magic sword leaving devastation in its wake.
Realizing his lapse in composure, Valarak straightened. "My apologies, Commander Zagan. How may I assist you?"
Anatesha noted the shift in his demeanor, a familiar change she had come to expect. Devils revered power, a fact ingrained deeply in their society—a system she longed to reform, if only the Satans allowed it. Nevertheless, she offered him a courteous smile, masking her pity.
"I need all documents related to refugee activities and supply logistics," she requested, her tone polite yet firm.
"Of course." Valarak conjured a portal, retrieving a scroll from within.
Anatesha accepted the scroll, her eyes quickly scanning its contents. Understanding the gravity of the city's situation, she promptly relayed orders to her remaining troops. She coordinated with the evacuation teams, providing detailed information about the city's layout and temporary refugee shelters. She reorganized supply routes and secured additional resources from the Sitri region.
Her efforts didn't stop there. Anatesha personally assisted the refugees, issued field commands, and used her magic to heal the injured, soldier by soldier. She performed these tasks without hesitation, driven by a sincere desire to help those in need.
After several hours, a soldier approached her and saluted. "Lord Sitri wishes to meet you at his residence."
Anatesha raised an eyebrow but smiled warmly. "Understood."
The soldier departed, and Anatesha summoned a magic circle, teleporting directly to Lord Sitri's chamber. Anatesha took a moment to steady herself, calming her nerves after her demanding work. As she stepped into the chamber, she found herself in a luxurious room draped in rich red fabrics. In the center stood a large, highly polished wooden table.
"Ah, Anatesha Zagan. Please, take a seat," greeted Lord Sitri with a warm smile. Even from his tone, Anatesha could discern a respectful timbre, despite him being a low-class devil in their hierarchy.
Anatesha seated herself, facing her master who wore a polite expression.
"What can I do for you, my Lord?" she asked with a chivalrous tone.
Lord Sitri raised an eyebrow and responded in a welcoming manner, "At ease, my humble servant. I merely require your daily report. From what I understand, my territory has been invaded by approximately four legions of angels, correct?"
Anatesha nodded before replying, "Yes, sir. The enemy launched a surprise attack while our main force was engaged on the frontlines." She clenched her fists tightly before continuing, "They also killed many soldiers and civilians, totaling 25,590 casualties, sir." Her voice trembled as she recalled the tragedies.
Understanding the weight on her shoulders, Lord Sitri offered a reassuring smile. "As long as we win this war, their deaths will not be in vain," he said.
With a proud yet bitter expression, he added, "I'm sure your sister and her husband would be proud of your decisions thus far. After all, you saved more souls than they managed to take."
These words brought a flicker of hope to Anatesha. Her guilt began to dissipate, replaced by the support of her master.
The feeling of failing to protect her race haunted Anatesha's sleep, with nightmares constantly reminding her of the bitter tragedies in her life. But she had had enough. It was time to move on.
The amber-eyed woman smiled once more and said, "Yes, I think you are right, my lord." Seeing the determination in her eyes, Lord Sitri couldn't help but smile and mutter, "Ah, she is just like you, Dalvina." In his view, Anatesha was no longer herself but a reflection of Dalvina, his past Commander-in-Chief. A sorrowful smile graced his face.
Anatesha noticed this but chose to keep her question to herself.
"Alright, back to business. Can you provide me with your report, commander?" Anatesha promptly took out a scroll, a copy of the report she had prepared earlier.
She had made some necessary additions to facilitate coordination between sections. "We managed to reinforce our supplies to mitigate emergency shortages, but there are remaining issues. We cannot ensure a proper emergency route if such a dire situation occurs again," she reported professionally.
An amused smile appeared on Lord Sitri's face as he glanced at the map on the table. "I see, and we must also provide recruits to replace lost troops on the front line. Judging by the state of the bird-winged creatures, they will likely launch another surprise attack." He closed his eyes, deep in thought.
"I would like you to reconstruct our land supply and production data here. I will also provide the complete procedure for that," he instructed, as his hands began working on the documents.
"At once, my lord," Anatesha responded promptly.
"Before you start, I want you to contact the head of the administrative command to come here!"
Even before Lord Sitri finished his sentence, the green-haired devil had already activated a communication magic circle in her ear. In a short time, the head of the administration arrived in the room. With that, their work, which would last several hours, began in earnest.
After hours of relentless work, Anatesha felt it—pain searing through her body, piercing her flesh and spine. Magical energy surged uncontrollably within her, distorting her very essence as a devil. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to freeze for her.
Cold sweat dripped from her forehead, her complexion growing paler by the second.
Lord Sitri, ever observant, noticed immediately. "Are you alright?" he asked, his tone laden with concern and his expression sour.
Anatesha pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes. She couldn't afford to appear weak before her master. She stood straighter, determined. "No, it's just—"
Lord Sitri cut her off, his face stern. "Don't lie to me, Anatesha. I've known you for decades. You're the commander-in-chief of my realm." His expression softened. "You need to take some time. Go home. See him."
Anatesha was taken aback, stunned into silence for a moment. Gratitude welled up within her, relief mingling with her surprise. She bowed respectfully. "Thank you, my Lord. I will rest for a few days."
As she turned to leave, a knock sounded at the door, followed by a young girl's voice. "Father, am I interrupting?"
"No, come in."
The door opened, revealing Serafall Sitri. She looked to be around nineteen, her black hair styled in twin tails, her eyes a striking blue like her father's. Her youthful, cheerful aura lit up the room. Anatesha's eyes widened.
Serafall's presence evoked memories of a happier time—a boy's joyful laughter echoing in her mind. A soft, endearing laugh that once adorned her heart. The vision was fleeting, replaced by the reality of the young girl before her.
Anatesha stood silent, a gentle smile forming on her lips—a smile tinged with longing. "Hello, everyone. Glad to see you, Commander. Anatesha, are you alright?" Serafall's tone was worried as she took in Anatesha's ashen face and the sweat beading on her forehead.
"I'm fine, my lady. Just a side effect of exhaustion," Anatesha replied, forcing a sweet smile to mask her fatigue.
Serafall's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Okay then, take care!" Her tone, bright and cheerful, brought a moment of warmth to the otherwise grim atmosphere.
"Very well. I shall take my leave." Anatesha channeled her magical energy and vanished with her teleportation magic.
Serafall turned to her father, concern etched on her face. "Father, there's something wrong with her magical energy."
Lord Sitri nodded. "You noticed as well. Commander, I need a report on Anatesha's condition."
The administrator bowed respectfully before leaving through his magic circle. Serafall approached her father, handing him a document.
"Father, this is the latest war report," she said.
"Thank you, Serafall," Lord Sitri replied, sifting through the papers.
"Father, may I investigate Anatesha's condition personally?" Serafall's question drew a curious look from her father.
"Why do you need access to those details?" His tone was neutral, a father addressing his inquisitive child. Yet, he seemed to understand the depth of her request.
Serafall composed herself, maintaining her professional demeanor. "I want to be sure, especially after the incident."
A heavy silence settled between them, memories of that dreadful night when thousands of devils vanished in an instant resurfacing.
"As you wish. I'll grant you access."
"Yay! Thank you, Father!" Serafall's joyful outburst, part childlike, part sincere, broke the tension.
Lord Sitri sighed, a mix of exasperation and affection in his eyes.
In the central district of the Sitri region, there stood a house—simple yet exuding a pleasant and warm ambiance.
The house, built in western-style architecture, was constructed with black brick, making it nearly invisible from afar at night. Anatesha remembered the color vividly; it had been a point of contention between her sister and brother-in-law. Recalling their playful bickering brought a chuckle to her lips.
As she opened the door, words came naturally to her, almost like a second nature. "I'm home!" she called out cheerfully.
Her enthusiasm quickly dissipated when she was greeted by silence and an empty corridor. This place, once filled with warm yellow light and the sound of footsteps, now felt eerily hollow.
Memories of small steps and sweet expressions that once filled this home tugged at her heart. She made her way to the bathroom, and as soon as she removed her armor, her calm and professional facade crumbled.
An expression of unbearable pain took over, and tears began to fall from her eyes.
Burning.
Parched.
It felt as if a hot iron had been stabbed into her spine. The pain was relentless, accompanied by magical energy that surged uncontrollably from within her. Green circuit-like lines began to materialize, emanating from her chest.
Something was terribly wrong with her soul, as if foreign hands were reconstructing her body from the inside out. A force began to emerge from her soul, representing her deepest essence—her origin, Transfer, and Seize.
"Kaaahhh!" Anatesha screamed as the pain intensified, her entire body trembling. Her skin turned pale, her eyes lost their function, and her nerves exploded with agonizing misery. Her mind blacked out, feeling like an eternity to her.
When her consciousness returned, she sighed in relief, though a strange feeling lingered. How could such excruciating pain vanish so suddenly?
Pushing the thought aside, she knew she needed to clean herself and head to her room. As she washed, she noticed that the burns she had sustained from the angel's attack were gone, as if they had never existed.
Closing her eyes, Anatesha remembered the moment she made direct contact with the deadliest element to devils. It felt as if something had enveloped her body, resisting the light's attack, preventing the injury from being life-threatening.
Despite the ordeal, Anatesha smiled. She seemed to know where these blessings had come from.
When Anatesha finished cleaning herself, she donned a casual black gown reminiscent of mid-century fashion, her green hair left to flow beautifully, highlighting her now radiant skin—a mark of her high-class devil status.
Her beauty had attracted numerous proposals from nobles, all of which she refused. The army was her true comfort zone, and despite the constant offers, she remained steadfast. Perhaps it was selfishness or a refusal to acknowledge her happiness, which had always seemed elusive.
Her eyes fell upon the bed, and a warm smile graced her face.
On the mattress lay a boy with short white hair and pale skin. He was a few years younger than her lady, Serafall. This was Rennias, her cousin, who had been in a coma for three months, ever since she saved him from that devastating incident.
A tender feeling rose in her heart as she spoke softly, "I'm home, Rennias."
She knew it was pointless. She knew there would be no response. Yet, she clung to the comfort of these words, a small solace in her otherwise turbulent life.
Am I really that pitiful? she wondered, her thoughts tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. As she channeled her magical energy to perform a healing spell on him, she felt a strange comfort in the routine.
Anatesha's smile softened when she discovered that Rennias' internal organs were intact, though something odd had formed within his body. It resembled the green circuit-like lines she had seen on herself earlier.
She sighed, pushing aside the bizarre thoughts. Despite everything, she felt a deep gratitude towards her cousin. She was convinced that the miracle that saved her on the battlefield came from him.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice as smooth as silk.
Anatesha didn't stop there. She moved Rennias' limbs gently, performing basic motions to prevent muscle stiffness. To maximize the effect, she formed a healing magic formula around his chest, channeling her energy into it.
As she looked at his pale face, a silent hope stirred within her—a hope she kept hidden from everyone. She yearned to see his smile again.
She lay down beside Rennias, her gaze fixed on his face, afraid to look away, fearing she might lose sight of that gentle countenance.
Anatesha slowly touched his cheek, feeling the chill of his skin. He was still alive, though his face looked deathly pale, a sight that haunted her nightmares.
Every night, she remembered his stern expression. She desperately wanted this horrible reality to change, but felt powerless to do anything about it.
Her energy began to wane, her eyes growing heavy with exhaustion.
"Please... wake up," she murmured as sleep claimed her, her last thoughts a silent plea.
In his bottomless slumber, Rennias saw everything.
He remembered the moment she saved him from the fire. He saw her crying for him, living for him. He witnessed her fighting, killing, and being covered in blood. Her sacrifices left an indelible mark on his chest. The way she struggled stirred his heart. Her gaze, once lively, now seemed dead and blank, devoid of any spark of life.
Why? The question echoed in his mind. He didn't quite understand why he had suddenly materialized in this world. He just wanted to answer her call. There was an odd sensation deep within his thoughts, a desire to escape from the agonizing void that held him. Human senses began to reawaken in him.
Her smile drove his sanity back. He longed to help her, to make her happy.
"Rennias! Come here, dear!" he heard a beautiful feminine voice. It didn't belong to Anatesha, but it was very familiar to him. A tender voice calling out.
For a moment, Rennias beheld eternal beauty as a heavenly voice whispered in his ears.
"He is handsome, isn't he?" another angelic voice spoke in his mindscape.
"Yes, he is," a masculine whisper replied.
Rennias didn't recognize the owners of the voices, but he felt a nostalgic warmth.
"Hello, glad to meet you, Rennias!" shouted the voice. From this alone, Rennias felt a soft affection for the voice.
Love.
"This is the world we must protect," came Anatesha's voice.
Suddenly, a bright light swept across his mindscape. The world around him changed.
He found himself in a city of luminous light, a beautiful municipality. It was Lucifaad, the capital of the Underworld. A grand city with a glorious castle at its center. Innumerable resettlements were housed within its walls—well-built structures with bright white colors.
A city teeming with devils, each engaged in their activities. Shopping, talking, sharing moments with their families. Rennias heard their happy laughter and heartwarming interactions. Parents holding their children, armies training to protect their citizens, an elderly man smiling with his wife in her last moments.
A city full of prosperity and peace. It was paradise.
"The people are our gold, and our land is our pride," Anatesha continued, her tone growing softer. "I wish you to protect them when I'm gone. The world is much bigger than we think."
In an instant, the world around him vanished into the darkest void. Silence prevailed, but he heard something—a drop of water in the emptiness.
The world formed before his eyes again.
Rennias' eyes widened as light shot out. He was flying in the sky, gazing upon the most beautiful landscape he had ever seen.
It was Earth, a world full of humans and their civilization. The green forests, the blue oceans, and the infinite sky above. Their sections were like an art painting, the pinnacle of creation.
Warmth swept through his body and mind. He felt the course of every living being on this planet within his core.
This was the world of man and the supernatural, a world for all—a mortal utopia.
The Last Phantasm.
"Rennias," a kind and lovely voice exclaimed.
With that indication, the world fell apart. The world turned into thousands upon thousands of glowing green orbs. They formed a humanoid body that slowly became recognizable.
It was him, yet a little different. This Rennias had black hair instead of white.
He walked towards Rennias, his face neutral but his eyes filled with happiness. Without a word, he touched Rennias' shoulder, his gaze adamant as he smiled.
He was kind-hearted and easy-going. His smile made even Rennias, a being not entirely alive, feel happy.
His counterpart took Rennias' hand and gave him something—a round object. Rennias watched as his twin walked away, slowly but with purpose.
A place where all souls return. A place where they find their eternity.
When he was a step away from his destination, the black-haired Rennias stopped. He turned his head to the white-haired Rennias, his lips moving in an attempt to communicate.
There was no sound, but when he finished, Rennias' eyes widened in realization. When he smiled, the white-haired Rennias fell into tears.
With a single step, he vanished into thin air. Only the white-haired Rennias remained in the void. When he opened his palm, the round object turned into a shiny green butterfly. It flew directly into his heart.
A pale-green-colored path opened behind him, connecting directly to the prime reality where his body lay unconscious. Beside his mattress, he saw the same woman sleeping, tears escaping her eyelids.
She was tired and sad. Her struggles had not yet paid off—a woman who deserved happiness more than him. Rennias smiled from his heart as his feet moved towards her. His will was now unwavering. Even the end of the world wouldn't stop him from reaching her.
Maybe I am unaware of happiness.
Unknown to him, a spark of ten thousand magical circuits flashed in his body.
Or sadness.
His origin formed in his core, an infinite amount of magical energy pouring into his circuits—a power to reach his goal.
I neither have the victory to achieve nor the loss to mourn.
His eyes flashed blue, resembling the primordial gaze of the end of all living beings.
Maybe this is my last wish.
His endless mana concentrated on the tip of his finger. He was ready to leave this place and set foot in his chosen realm.
With a small smile, he murmured to himself, "I will bear those scars and miracles. That is my oath to you."
The vibrant white light swallowed the void.
Anatesha had a nightmare.
Her family burned alive. Her people vanished into the holy light of the Angels. Her land crumbled beneath the atrocity of the fallen.
She screamed aloud, yet unheard.
Her skin turned to ashes alongside her beloved city.
Hope was dead.
The idea was rooted deep in Anatesha's mind—the idea that the devil would be extinct because of this war.
She wanted this agonizing situation to stop, to end the relentless hurt.
"Please, help me."
Her desperation finally reached an answer.
A hand touched her shoulder. There was no pain, no misery, only kindness and hope.
A small hand she was familiar with. When she lifted her head, Anatesha saw the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.
Her savior's smile.
The artificial sun rose on the horizon, its light penetrating all the windows in the Underworld.
As Anatesha opened her eyes, she saw something that made tears escape from her eyes—a miracle she had only dreamed of, a miracle among miracles.
Her wish had come true. She hugged her cousin with all her strength, not wanting him to disappear, needing to confirm that this was real. After suffering a horrendous amount of losses, she gained her delight right at this moment.
Her struggle was not in vain.
He was real.
"Good morning, Aunty," Rennias said with a weak tone, a warm smile forming on his face.
She burst into tears of happiness, crying out all her emotions in this tearful moment.
Now, Anatesha did not care if anyone called her a crybaby.
The only thing she cared about was that her star had returned home once again. For Rennias, his journey had only just begun. The road awaited him, a long and painful path he had chosen. But he would face it. Even if he must die, he would protect them.
He would treasure them, just as his aunt had treasured him—not only the devils but the entire world.
For now, he hugged his beloved family back.
This moment was the sacred beginning of his voyage to infinity.
With this, a new era began.