Note: I do not own Highschool DxD and all the rights go to the author. I only own the OC's that will appear.


Chapter 3: Divine Retribution, Cometh!

"In the beginning, everything was good. The Heavens, the Earth; all was good. Until the most grotesque evil overtook Lucifer's heart and that of our siblings among Father's creation. War, war, war… a disgusting concept. It is to our great shame that it dragged on for so long. Morbid I may sound, the conflict three centuries prior had awoken a flame in your children—Haniel most of all—and I hope your moral codes keep us as clean as possible, for all of the Underworld shall know divine retribution!" - Said Azrael, Angel of Death

Marbas Territory Wreckage

The Marbas territory lay in tatters, and the aftermath painted quite the bleak picture. Charred remains of once-mighty fortifications lay in crumbled heaps, their smoldering ruins sending wisps of blackened smoke spiraling into the ashen sky. Broken weapons, shattered armor, and the lifeless forms of angels lay scattered across the fissured and scorched earth. There would have been more corpses of devils had most not been eviscerated by the wrath of the Ultimate-class angel, Valerius.

He was an indiscriminate angel; charged with the righteous fury of his creator to exact divine retribution on the thousands of evil spawns the greatest traitors the pantheon had ever known.

No matter in what way a devil pleaded with him, they met a swift and burning end by his power.

He took no prisoners. Not before three centuries ago when tensions weren't so high, and not since then when all three factions had grown ruthless.

Fortunately, Valerius is dead; his chapter finally closed for eternity.

The air, thick with the acrid scent of burnt wood and the metallic tang of blood, seemed to be filled with the rejoicing spirits of the damned. Even amidst the devastation, what corpses of devils remained—which was scattered far from the epicenter of Valerius' blast—their spirits were like flaring up in joy.

Even when their territory had collapsed, doomed to be remembered as only an afterthought of history, they had fought to the bitter end. Though there did exist haunting wails, let that be for the pathetic few among their number that dared to beg for life in the face of their enemy.

The siege of Marbas had ended in both success and failure for the forces of Heaven, a setback that wasn't rare at all in honesty. It was nothing but a small bump in the road, for as long as God was on their side, their forces would be endless, unyielding, and righteous.

High above the ravaged battlefield, the scene began to shift. Smoke and ashes dissipated as the realm of Heaven emerged…

The Sixth Realm of Heaven

Where Great Angels Convene in Revered Discourse

"Great leaders! I regret to inform you that while the siege of the Marbas territory had succeeded, it also ended in failure. Captain-Commander Valerius and his legion have been eradicated by what reports consider a troop of Ultimate-class devils!"

In a grand celestial hall, the Four Great Seraphs stood in silence. Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, Raphael, and the remaining seven Seraphs consisting of Metatron, Ramiel, Sariel, Zadkiel, and Anael all sat at a round table.

Majestic columns of marble stretched skyward, adorned with the intricate carvings of celestial beings. The air was filled with a soft, harmonious chorus that spoke of peace and serenity, away from worldly stress.

But it had reached them in the form of another horrible report.

Michael blinked silently, his emerald eyes flickering with a disheartened glow. His heart reeled from the loss of another great legion, but that is the nature of war. That is the nature of war. He swept his gaze across the assembly of eight great angels with only two missing, his gaze now solemn, "Thank you for the report, Astravis. Please take your leave."

The angel bowed in acknowledgement and departed quickly. The towering pristine double doors of golden opulence closed with a soft echo. Silence hung over everyone's head, and it only intensified now that the room was sealed from outside ears and vision.

"The siege of Marbas has ended in catastrophe," Michael stated softly, his voice resonating throughout the room. "Though it was ultimately necessary in the end for Captain-Commander Valerius to take this mission, one can't help but wonder if it was worth it."

Uriel, one of the Great Seraphs, glanced at his brother and replied, "Do you speak of the Marbas territory's unique state of defense?"

"Precisely so, brother," Michael confirmed with a sigh. "I don't know how well you all have been tracking the behavior of the devils, but I think the Marbas territory was exposed intentionally in some way."

"Explain," said Raphael, another Great Seraph. "We indeed weren't all able to see what happened at that territory. Enlighten us all so we may discuss."

Michael was tempted to explain, but his ears smoked.

"I am remiss to say that I hadn't spent enough time considering it. This topic can be discussed at a later date," Michael dismissed Raphael's suggestion. "What of Azrael and Haniel? Has their crusade come to a conclusion after all these weeks?"

Among the five Seraphs, it was Ramiel, the Angel of Thunder, that answered, "They overturned numerous devil encampments. They even laid siege to various Raim bases, raising those things to the ground after completely combing through all the information they had. The amount of High to Ultimate-class devils that would die if they were to attack the stronghold would be…" he couldn't continue.

The other Seraphs lowered their heads, and the atmosphere got even heavier.

"They need to be reined in," Michael's eyes gained a subtle sharpness. "The bolder they get, the more they're likely to fall into a quagmire of danger. They're powerful, mighty angels, the likes most devils below the realm of Satans couldn't reach, but…" he halted.

"Jophiel and Chamuel still lost their lives," Gabriel, the only female Great Seraph, said softly, completing Michael's sentence. "In truth, I wonder what Father has planned for them, Azrael and Haniel."

Jophiel, the Angel of Beauty, and Chamuel, the Angel of Presence had lost their lives three centuries ago during one of the great crusades in which almost all great angels attended. Across the entire timeline of the Great War, that was the most recent high-end clash, and there hadn't been any battles among elite powerhouses since then. Everything from then on was limited to battles between forces led by Ultimate-class fighters.

The fact that Azrael and Haniel were wreaking havoc on weaker beings was... shameful, to say the least.

Alas, it was war.

A thousand long years. Who wouldn't be desperate to get the answers they need when it hinged on the possibility of victory?

Haniel, the Angel of Victory, knew that best. So, she spearheaded many operations since her best friend Jophiel died back then, wanting to take her mind off the pain and use it as fuel to achieve meritorious victories for the forces of Heaven. With Azrael, the Angel of Death, at her side, they were a force to be reckoned with.

But that begged the question; what were the Four Great Satans doing? Why were they allowing their forces to be eradicated? What could be so important to them that they were willing to allow their forces to be decimated by overwhelming force without retaliating?

The thought frustrated many of them, not at all did they feel any sense of victory with the damage their peers among the greater angels were causing.

It was almost as if the ancient traitors were soaking up the damage to retaliate in some other, more insidious fashion.

Knowing Lucifer, Michael knew the ramifications if they overestimated themselves and let their guard down.

"Perhaps it is time to bring them back before anything happens. We need everyone here in order to come up with a plan of action," Gabriel suggested urgently, her emerald eyes landing on everyone.

But Metatron disagreed, "We don't need everyone here to talk about what to do about those rebel fallen angels. They had also been too brazen active lately."

"The rebellious groups had been growing in power, and Azazel should currently have his fingers tied. It's a wonder he had forces to spare for us to use in our rampant sieges on the devils," Zadkiel, the Angel of Mercy, added.

Michael narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the meeting he had with his fallen brother.


Two weeks ago

The chosen location Governor-General Azazel had requested was somewhere in the continent of Europe, and one of the many countries with famous religious landmarks.

For instance, the Notre-Dame cathedral in the country of France.

Despite having been cast down from Heaven, forever to walk the earthly world, Azazel has a knack for choosing the most religious locations for these kinds of meetings.

In hindsight, it made total sense.

Lightning crackled and thunder boomed, reverberating across the blackened sky as a shower of rain descended upon the island of Ile de la Cite, one of the two natural islands on the Seine River within the heart of Paris. The surrounding river Seine churned with waves wind-swept, rolling over scattered planks of wood left behind by recent wreckages. High above the bustling Parisian city, amidst flashing blue streaks of lightning, a soft but radiant glow of gold appeared. It was obscured by clouds, out of sight for people.

Twelve golden wings flared to life as a man clad in golden armor, white sweeping silken fabric, and wreathed in holy light appeared in solemn silence. His luxurious golden locks flailed violently in the wind, but he was unfazed as he descended among a swirling funnel of wind that reached toward the river Seine, stirring up a minor cyclone.

Far from the river and across one of many bridges connecting the island to the rest of Paris, a tall and cloaked figure stood against a pillar, watching in silence as the flickering golden light from his holy brother vanished, and he sensed the pure angel's presence appear elsewhere.

His violet eyes flickered in faint amusement.

He kicked off the pillar and vanished in dim yellow light.

The Notre-Dame de Paris, crested with tall twin towers reaching nearly seventy meters in height and incomplete with flying buttresses, gothic arches, ribbed vaults, and more elements of Gothic architecture loomed in the center of a large square that—usually bustling with people—was now slightly barren as establishments were closed and people were locked in.

This was by the machinations of Azazel, of course. He liked to spend his time strolling around the city, admiring the work of humanity in their appreciation for the Creator. Even though he betrayed Him, he still cherished the memories of being in the glorious realm of splendor. Regardless, he approached the entrance to the incomplete cathedral and pushed open the towering doors that groaned audibly in the stormy weather. Lightning flashed behind him, making his silhouette appear shadow-like as he entered the interior.

Vaulted ceilings hung high above him, and the nave before him was flanked by two aisles which were separated by rows of towering columns. It was spacious and silent enough for his footsteps to echo throughout the central part of the cathedral, and towards the altar at the end, he saw his holy brother with a dim coat of golden.

His wings remained outstretched, and particles of holy light flaked off.

Michael had already weighed him with suspicion, "Azazel- this meeting, you never told me the right details. I know this little gathering between us isn't as simple as church-related issues. This is war."

Azazel sped forward, his steps covering the rest of the distance before he appeared only two meters away from Michael, his cloak having fallen away to reveal his full figure.

He was a man who appeared to be in his early twenties, barely a stubble on his chin and nary a mustache. He was youthful, but his violet gaze was full of age, "I think it's about time we worked together, don't you think?"

"You dare," Michael glared at him, his lips curved into a severe frown. "It's already been eight hundred-some years since blood was spilled between our forces. How many battles? How many died? How many schemes? What thought exists within your corrupted soul to request a meeting after all this time?"

Azazel's eyes darkened, "That was a low blow, and you know it."

"Those are the words of a man scorned by his brothers and sisters for continuously holding faith in you and your peers among the fallen. You all turned your hands against us, your family. You turned against Father."

Azazel's eyes gained a steely edge, and he growled, "I did not come here to recount past events, brother who art from Heaven."

Michael's eyes blazed, "You dare to mock the scripture-" he cut himself off and condensed a spear of light and pressed it toward Azazel.

Azazel grounded his teeth and forced himself to calm down, his heart hardening, "Scatter the light, Michael. A fight between us won't end well, and I'm not talking about our wellbeing."

A stiff gesture toward the entire cathedral and beyond caused Michael's eyes to widen, and he quickly dispersed his light spear before backing away in great shame.

Azazel gazed at him sternly, "It seems this war has taken a toll on your psyche. You are unhinged. I could have sworn your wings darkened."

"Hah, my wings must turn white before they can turn black," Michael scoffed, his emerald eyes gleaming. "Even Father had grown weary, not to mention dearest sister Gabriel."

"How is she doing?" Azazel asked.

"You don't need to know," Michael dismissed him, much to Azazel's irritation. "Explain the reason for our meeting."

Azazel clenched his jaws and sighed, feeling the weight of countless battles, losses, and more rest on his shoulders, "In light of what you have said, I find it quite necessary that we act against the forces of the devils with extreme prejudice."

Michael dipped his head, dumbfounded, "Haven't our separate forces been on that for centuries? As long as Lilith is around, more devils will come into existence. As long as angels continue to fall, more fallen will exist. Father can create more angels. This war is endless. The only way to end this war is for-"

"The only way for this all to end is if the leaders die," Azazel said coldly, his eyes darkening. "I would rather Lucifer and his friends went first. Ever since this wasteful conflict began, there had never been a decisive blow dealt to either side. Lucifaad still stands along with the capital cities of the other Satans. Heaven is still thriving, and humanity is still going strong even with plagues appearing. It's all endless, but never has there been a large-scale gathering where two factions work together against one."

Michael wasn't surprised in the slightest, "You may be the highest leader, but even you must defer to the voice of the many. You aren't the strongest fallen in your group."

"I have my ways of persuasion."

"Is this all?" Michael asked impatiently, tempted to return to Heaven to overlook the various operations of Heaven's legions.

"No," Azazel said, and he revealed a smile that made Michael raise his eyebrows in recognition.

The smile of a mad tactician that had discovered a grand plan.

"How about recruiting some special humans?"

Michael curled his lips in a wry smile, "You mean Sacred Gear wielders? You mean to drag Father's blessed children of Earth into a war that doesn't concern them?"

Azazel face-palmed, looking at Michael as if he was an idiot.

Michael blushed in embarrassment, "Excuse me, I must be far too tired. My soul is scattered; bits and pieces."

"Pick up the scraps before you leave," Azazel chuckled darkly before continuing. "I will be considerate of Heaven and allow you all to scan this lovely world first. If my dearest creator deems this idea plausible, then that is one next step toward victory."

"..." Michael did not respond.


Michael groaned just thinking about how scatterbrained he was that night, "Ultimately, things are falling into place."

"Is this about the fallen angels?" Anael, the Angel of Love, inquired.

"Yes, I had a little meeting with Azazel a few weeks ago."

"You what?!" Uriel turned toward Michael, his amber eyes flaring. "On what grounds?"

Looking at everyone around the table, Michael gained a sense of confidence, "A way to steer this war into Father's favor, even if our fallen brethren get a lick of the same pie."

"Details, please," Raphael massaged his temple, evident strain on his visage.

"I believe this is something we need to bring to Father's attention, though I presume he is well aware..." Michael trailed off with his emerald eyes shining gold.

The eyes of all the Seraph glowed golden as well, and an authoritative, divine, and almighty voice summoned them.

MEET ME NOW!

Nine golden magic circles manifested beneath the forms of all great angels, and they vanished.


The Seventh Heaven

There Dwells the Initiator of Progression

Subjugator of the Apocalypse, and Antithesis of the First Great Evil

The Divine Adjudicator, the Once-Almighty God, Yahweh!

The Seventh Heaven was a realm of a different nature than the lesser six. It was a primordial realm that stands at the pinnacle of the divine cosmos where no other pantheon could compare. Here, the might of God was imminent, charging the very air itself with the sense of awe and reverence for the Divine Creator. Here, the sky was an endless expanse of white intermixed with the golden rays of the palace that hung uncountable leagues above the golden plains below where legions of angels sang praises to his name from birth to eternity.

The palace hummed, and the vault of Heaven opened wide.

A daunting pressure swept across the Seventh Heaven, engulfing a realm that rivaled the Earth itself. A great and towering figure wreathed in streams of holy light so bright as to outshine the brightest supernovae appeared in the sky, radiating a presence that would dwarf anything within the Judeo-Christian pantheon by magnitudes. He was blinding to the eye with light refracting off all celestial constructs. The innumerable faces of angels of varying rank were painted white consistently and unendingly as the rays swept by, preventing anything from seeing the true form of God who emerged on his own volition.

Through the surging streams of holy light, a time-weathered gaze pierced through space-time, peering into the Underworld with a level of intensity that made four mighty devils shiver from some unknown location within.

"After all this time, It emerged again. The First Great Evil; tendrils of darkness, etched with evil permanence! You wretched thing, how dare you return!"

God's furious bellow emerged wholly indecipherable to all the angels in the Seventh Heaven, and they were blessed to not have been aware of the terrifying sight above them. They were eternally innocent, devoid of any greater mental faculty other than engineering the endless chorus of song.

Somewhere in the Underworld, a silver-haired adolescent devil experienced blood-boiling rage all of a sudden, igniting the gathering center in which many knight squads and other devils mingled in immense demonic power. Denaris and crew swiftly apprehended the girl and vanished in a flash of light.

God's figure flickered in and out of existence before he reappeared in the palace, his body collapsing onto the towering throne with a thunderous boom that shook the celestial hall with vaulted ceilings and arches. A path had been laid out before the entourage of nine great angels who appeared in a flash of golden light, not having witnessed the outrage of their creator due to a time dilation He performed.

God's presence had rapidly declined again, going from mighty to feeble.

"Father!" Michael and his brothers and sisters moved forward, but a mere gesture from God froze them in place. They couldn't budge an inch.

They sensed that while their father tried to suppress it, he was viciously angry, so angry that he forcefully restrained his own devoted children without a second thought. Just the volatile and flickering glow of God's form was chilling, making them all dizzy.

"I have known about your meeting with Azazel in advance, Michael. In light of recent discoveries, I hereby grant you all clearance to scour the earth for my worldly children blessed with Sacred Gears..." God seethed, his eyes burning bright like the sun. "But there are conditions!"

"Please enlighten us, Father!" Gabriel pleaded. "But your anger- it's overwhelming!"

All around them, the celestial hall trembled. Towering pillars groaned, the ceiling cracked, and the wind was overturned with surging divine energy that coiled around the throne of God like a fierce cocoon. Amidst the surging manifestation of God's anger, his gaze burned through, landing on Gabriel before visibly softening. The maelstrom of divine might vanished just as quickly as it came, and the celestial hall fell into silence.

God continued at an underpowered tone, "First condition: do not intrude upon the other pantheons without negotiation!"

"Second condition: ignore those who reject their calling, for no blessings will come to them in their deaths for keeping their fortuitous blessing contained. Let them be disdained!"

"Third condition: for those who turn their fortuitous blessing against Heaven, give them no quarter, for they shall be confined to the Nine Circles of Hell for eternity!"

"Fourth condition: the valiant lambs who accept the call to action shall find themselves a place in Heaven upon their death, becoming esteemed angels. Their families will be blessed for generations as long as the faith of the family persists, and the angel does not fall!"

"Last condition: do not associate with Azazel and the fallen in excess! Great doom awaits those who defy this last condition!"

And then God fell silent, completely silent.

Before any one of the angels could speak up, their vision blurred, and they reappeared in the Sixth Heaven.

Everyone was pale.

"W-what..." Michael felt like his soul left his body.

He didn't even give them a chance to talk.


Bael Stronghold, Open Lands

Fifty kilometers toward the edge of the Bael stronghold, there existed a vast expanse of dark trees that towered high and obscured the land beneath their dark canopies. Deep enchanted rivers carved meandering paths through the trees before opening into various lakes and ponds where supernatural creatures quenched their thirst. Near a tall, rocky, and jagged hill with a split in the center, the Brilliant Evil Order appeared in a blinding flash of silver light with their transportation circle rotating silently below them.

They scattered, and a silver-haired girl had been thrown dozens of meters away at high speeds before she reflexively took control of her bodily movements and planted her feet toward the ground, allowing the stockings she wore to tear against the friction. Clumps of earth were uprooted as she slammed her fingers into the dirt to slow her backward momentum, her breath ragged and hot. Her eyes were an intermixture of black and eerie red, concealing the internal turmoil within.

"Nrgh...!" She groaned and smashed her head into the dirt, making it sink, before raising her head and bashing it into the ground again.

The knights watched on in both concern and caution as the girl did this, and Denaris was completely flummoxed.

"This is not good," Denaris muttered and cautiously approached the girl that was currently tearing at her own hair, pulling out strands that stretched and came out. Blood followed along, and Denaris realized that it was getting bad.

Without hesitation, he raised his finger toward her and intoned, "[Sleep]!"

To everyone's surprise, Jemisha was quite resistant to Denaris' spell despite the massive difference in strength. Her head even snapped toward him with her eyes filled with some unnerving craze. But in the end, her body slowed down and she collapsed to the ground in complete silence.

Everyone also fell into silence, an unnerved and terrified silence.

"Does... does King Lucifer know about this? Surely, he does, right?" The young female devil from before questioned, her amber eyes flickering with a tinge of fear as she massaged her throat and cleared it; her nerves were shot.

On her neck were finger marks where the skin was nearly torn, and the flesh was almost crushed.

The hand that did this naturally belonged to Jemisha.

She was an elite High-class devil herself, but she would have been strangled to death in seconds had her allies not stepped in. One fierce yank from one large knight had sent the girl flying away to where she now lay unconscious.

Denaris stood over the girl with narrowed eyes, "Lord Lucifuge informed us that the princess is going to be dangerous to work with. Not only is she a Lucifer with immense potential, but her father had done something to her that made her like... whatever we had seen earlier. This is confidential information that I am not privy to, so we cannot grasp the true nature of what kind of girl we're dealing with."

Daneris looked at the rattled woman, "Thalira, how is your neck? Do you need treatment?"

She waved him off with a cough, wincing, "Never better, ouch... yeah, I'll take some treatment. Curses! She is grotesquely strong for a girl her age!"

A towering knight with bulging muscles snorted, "As much as it pains me to say, pulling her off was like trying to tangle with a mid-class dragon. Mid-class."

"From what I can see," said a severe knight with a sweeping mane of jagged black hair and vicious emerald eyes. "This girl cannot be trusted. She is too dangerous as she is now. She needs intense training and scrutiny."

"Dravon, you have a point," Denaris replied as he gently hauled the unconscious girl up and hoisted her over his shoulder. "But we have a responsibility bestowed upon us by King Lucifer himself. He certainly knows about his daughter more than us. We can only trust that he sent her on the battlefield for a reason other than simply getting stronger."

"With what she displayed earlier, she'll be a real treat!" another female devil chimed in.

Denaris was about to respond when he stilled, his body tensing when he felt the girl move. The draping curtain of silver hair raised itself into the air as a pale hand lashed out, swiping it away and revealing her pale face. She coughed and struggled out of Denaris' grip before falling to the ground and collapsing on her butt. Her eyes were pure silver, and her expression was one of both pain and disorientation.

"...gold, gold, all gold. Blinding rays: it burns. His voice... it burns..." she muttered to herself with trembling lips, her silver eyes flickering from dull to an illuminating bright.

Everyone was becoming increasingly aware of how anomalous this girl was for not only resisting a seasoned Ultimate-class devil's [Sleep] spell but waking up a mere minute later.

"Wrathful, murderous, true disdain... how can He who boasts such apparent purity be so full of that which had made countless pure angels fall?" Jemisha muttered even more, her words coming out stronger and more coherent.

Denaris crossed his arms, the metallic greaves sliding across each other as he voiced aloud, "She speaks of the divine lord of Heaven. This is most unusual."

"Could her manic outburst have something to do with Him? But... how?" Thalira spoke up in utter bewilderment.

"She's a Lucifer. They have power over Holy Power to a certain extent. Perhaps there's a lingering connection in her bloodline that links her to the divine lord?" Denaris mused. But he shelved the thought and looked directly at Jemisha as she swept her silver gaze across all of them, evident confusion on her face. She staggered to her feet and her demonic power pulsated again, this time washing over all the knights and screwing with their minds.

Jemisha instantly realized this and backpedaled, creating a great distance as she worked to restrain her demonic power.

"What in Hell's name?"

"Ack-! What kind of farce is this?"

"Please, make it stop!"

The cries from certain members of the knight squad made Jemisha even more guilty and she turned on her heel and rushed into the trees, her white hospice gown sweeping out and reflecting a ghostly glow, seemingly leaving behind a phantasmal afterimage in the wake of her departure.

Denaris exploded into movement, expanding his demonic senses to cover Jemisha's tracks as he took a single step and teleported toward her constantly changing location. He left the rest of the group behind to recover from the sudden mental attack.

What is wrong with this child? Denaris thought with a grim countenance. She's just a living mass of chaos right now! And she's fast.

Looking into the distance, he caught traces of ghostly white zipping in and out of sight and zooming further ahead like a streak of light. The girl's movements consisted of sheer athleticism, utilizing acrobatics to meander around tree branches, leap among trees, and slip around monsters. He also saw flashes of silver light, meaning that she was teleporting as well.

She was fast, and a growing headache.

This girl is just a kid, and she's already so troubled. She'll bring a new dynamic to this squad, I swear it. Denaris grumbled inwardly as he exerted even more effort to catch the nimble girl. He cast a large transportation circle and vanished, reappearing hundreds of meters ahead.

Jemisha only saw a flash of blinding light before she was arrested by a pair of powerful gauntlet hands. They clamped around her arms, and she was hoisted up.

"Let go!" Reflexively, she lashed out with kicks that failed to make Denaris budge. A dense film of demonic power coated his body before extending to Jemisha, actively restraining her from moving anymore. Fear spiked in her heart as she locked eyes with Denaris' fierce gaze.

"Now, young princess. You had caused enough trouble as it is. Cool yourself, and we can move on from this."

But the girl's response was stubborn. He saw her silver eyes turn black like shadows, and he felt the air shift.

Before she could do anything, Denaris apologized to her before driving his armored head into her temple, knocking her out.

"Oh, man. What kind of man am I to strike a little girl?" Denaris lamented as he gently held Jemisha in his arms and waited.

It wasn't long before everyone arrived.

Looking at the blood on the girl's face, Thalira glared at Denaris, "You couldn't use your magic to knock her out?"

"Something in her eyes gave me chills, so I reacted on instinct," Denaris winced. "Great Satans, please strike me down if I have transgressed!"

"Let me strike you down," Thalira sneered and brandished a bow and knocked a harmless arrow at her captain, to which he bowed his head in acceptance.

The arrow was launched, exploding like a rocket before impacting Denaris' head and blasting him into a tree. Jemisha fell, but another woman caught her.

The woman held her up, appraising the troublesome girl, and her pink eyes flickered with unspoken intent, "This girl is a true gem. I can see it. We were entrusted to train a real force of chaos. She who has the ability to screw with minds by using her demonic power alone is by itself a boon for our race! Oh, Glory be to King Lucifer for giving birth to such an auspicious talent! EEEE-!"

Another arrow impacted Seraphis' head, and she was sent flying into a tree as well.

Thalira caught Jemisha and huffed, glaring down at the girl who nearly killed her, "You will apologize when you wake up, missus. Your identity notwithstanding!"

And once again, Thalira and the others saw the unconscious girl whispering words that were hardly decipherable.

"Angels... an-els, l-ght rays; destruction... death... the Angel of... Death- of Victory... R-Raim..."


Bloodshed, death, and chaos, all went hand in hand.

Underneath the shadowed sky, the soldiers made their stand.

The clash of steel and cries for mercy echoed through the land.

With wings of wrath and righteousness, the angels swept the sand.

As destiny and despair entwined, their final fate was planned.


Raim Stronghold

One of the Great Bastions of Defense now Under Siege

"Back away from the gates!" cried a bleeding devil with a missing arm. Powering through the pain, he flared his bat-like wings and shuttled through the air, kicking up whistling wind currents that displaced shards of holy light that attempted to skewer him. The gates, once a mighty barrier against invasion, had collapsed as the weight of two holy legions pressed on it.

Holy rays scattered about, sniping airborne devils out of the sky while razing countless buildings once lauded as a microcosm of the demonic spin on Gothic architecture. Demonic barriers flickered to life in a valiant effort to protect the outer rim walls of structures, but that shattered as larger spears appeared, piercing into the foundations of the land and making it erupt in blinding and earth-shaking explosions.

The demonic forces of the Raim Stronghold had erected multi-layered defenses to whittle the terrifying forward momentum of their mortal enemies; they were intermixed with barricades, traps, and varies defensive spells to get any sort of advantage for just a brief moment. But with the force of a wrecking ball, mighty spears of light plowed through everything, eviscerating all the lives in range. From afar, golden legions loomed with a rumbling chorus of battle cries, hurling uncountable holy spells at the devils that had been left bereft of the safety buildings and barriers had given them.

Heading these legions were figures with ten wings of pristine white, glittering with celestial light as sizable magic circles manifested, revolving around their respective positions like planets to their parent star. Esoteric glyphs flashed to life, generating blinding light that extended outward into radiant beams.

Boom!

These beams were expansive and far-reaching, carving a swathe of destruction across the entire stronghold for hundreds of meters. Plumes of mountainous heat waves expanded, and pillars of light descended, piercing into the foundations of the entire stronghold and making it quake like an avalanche. Colossal shards of earth split off before breaking apart as a devil cloaked in dark yellow demonic power controlled the fragments, hurling them with a fierce roar toward a large group of High-class angels who frantically erected multi-layered light barriers that superimposed on each other, empowering the defenses further.

The light barriers failed, shattering like glass as the hail of earthen shards pierced through them all before impacting the High-class angels who couldn't teleport away in time. Metal crunched and bones shattered, and some had their skulls blown apart into red mist. With another roar, another volley of shards reduced the remaining High-class angels to red mist as well.

"For the Underworld!" he unleashed his heavy demonic power, making the clouds churn as his voice reverberated throughout the battlefield, landing in the ears of everyone with a thunderclap of force. Ears immediately bled, and brains were scattered into a pulp.

Uncountable low-class angels had just died, including many unfortunate devils.

"Uncouth barbarian!"

A dignified voice appeared above the earth-manipulating devil's position as a figure with ten wings appeared. Wreathed in golden light, she sent down a volley of light constructs shaped like flat rectangles. The devil sneered and attempted to shatter them with brute force. Before he could, the constructs halted and surrounded him in a wide berth, crackling with chilling volts of lightning. Light flashed, and a bolt pierced into the devil's side, tearing through his demonic aura and plunging into his flesh, eradicating a chunk and turning one side of his body into a charred husk.

The devil cried out in agony and tried summoned several barriers around him, but they all shattered as a storm of golden lightning crashed through them and eradicated him, reducing him to nothing but charred bits of flesh and strips of bone.

Similar scenes happened across the stronghold. Ultimate-class devils and angels were now fighting to the death, and it appeared that both sides were evenly matched until...

The clouds several kilometers above the stronghold parted, revealing two colossal figures wreathed in light. Each had twelve wings large enough to blot out the sky, and they emanated a presence that instantly chilled the devils to the bone.

One figure held a dark scythe, and another wielded an equally massive flagpole with all the celestial grandeur it deserved.

The flag-bearing angel looked down upon the panicking devils with searing eyes before raising the flag into the air and swinging it downward.

Without a colossal magic circle in sight, a sky-piercing pillar of light descended upon the devils, punching through the center of the stronghold and digging countless kilometers deep into the crust. The entire battlefield was uprooted as the surrounding land was blown out from under them. Fissures expanded across the land, glowing with golden light.

Innumerable teleportation circles flickered across the battlefield as angels vanished just in time before the entire stronghold was obliterated in a gargantuan explosion that rocked the landscape for hundreds of kilometers and beyond. The chaotic dome of volatile energy was loud, booming, and disruptive, causing the climate to shift with storm clouds appearing. Lightning crackled across the sky, followed by mind-numbing booms of thunder. Wind currents tore through the land, carving up debris and turning them into deadly projectiles that continued on to obliterate the lucky devils that managed to escape the blast itself.

"You angels have the gall to call yourselves righteous after this mess?!" A furious voice roared from afar as, amidst the surging holy dome of energy, several devils appeared. They were haggard and bloody, their armor a mere remnant of their once domineering appearance.

The colossal flag-bearing angel snorted, "War has little to no morals, and devils least of all deserve mercy."

Flames erupted around one of the devils as he unleashed a colossal sphere towards the flag-bearing angel, only for a white streak of light to split it in twain. The colossal scythe-wielding angel flared his twelve wings and propelled himself toward the group of devils without fear, spinning his scythe like a fan before unleashing a mighty slash of white light that smashed into the flame-manipulating devil's hastily erected barrier. It cracked, groaned, and began to crumble.

The devil teleported away and reappeared above the scythe-wielding angel.

"Seraph Azrael, I hope the wrath of the Great Satans kill you!" The devil's wings ignited into radiant flames before sweeping toward the Angel of Death, both flaming wings clapping together with enough force to make the sky tremble.

"Your hopes will go forever unfulfilled, for divine retribution will descend upon the Underworld as is foretold!" A chilling voice appeared behind him, the massive breath of death engulfing his body as a white streak of light cleaved across his neck, severing it.

Blood spilled across the sky as the Angel of Death began his slaughter. With some of the remaining Ultimate-class devils, he engaged in a dance of death. His scythe cleaved through barriers, various elemental spells, demonic blasts, and more. His scythe's edge met no more resistance as he applied greater strength to each swing, culling more lives as a result.

Numerous demonic attacks by three Ultimate-class devils bore down upon the colossal flag-bearing Angel of Victory, Haniel, and she merely swung her flagpole, conjuring a heaven-drilling spiral of holy light that wrapped around her body and swept the demonic attacks away. Due to her staggering size, the drilling mass of holy light also swallowed up the tiny devils, reducing them to ashes.

In a single battle, an entire stronghold had been bested; completely eradicated by the forces of Heaven.

End of Chapter


Note: As made evident in the chapter, the lore of the Underworld will be different to a certain extent. The original realms in which the dead are destined with the Judeo-Christian pantheon will be replaced by the Nine Circles of Hell in the Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri.

Shorter chapter, as not all will be the average length range of 8,000-10,000 words.