Sera's expression hardened as she sat upright, regaining her composure after Spawn's stirring words. Despite the weight of his statement, she remained resolute. Her voice carried the finality of a hammer striking an anvil. "No matter your ideals, no matter the justifications you provide, the fact remains, Spawn—you have broken the laws of the natural order. This court cannot and will not overlook that."

The room grew tense as Sera's verdict began to take shape. "The divine energy within you was never meant to reside in a mortal soul. It is a direct violation of Heaven's laws and the balance of creation. It will be taken from you."

Spawn's expression didn't waver, but the holographic projections of Charlie and the others visibly reacted, their faces flashing with concern.

Sera continued, her voice steely. "If you survive the extraction process, you will be sent back to Hell, where you belong."

It was a single word that shook the court. "If."

Charlie's holographic projection gasped, stepping forward in alarm. "What do you mean, if?" she demanded, her voice trembling. "What are you saying? Are you telling me that this process could kill him?"

Even Lucifer, usually composed, narrowed his eyes. "This wasn't part of your case, Sera. Explain."

Sera met their gazes with an unflinching stare. "The divine energy within him has likely fused with his very essence. Removing it is no simple task. It may tear him apart in the process. The court recognizes this risk, but it is necessary. Heaven cannot allow such a blatant breach of its laws to persist."

Vaggie stepped forward, anger evident in her tone. "So, what you're saying is, you're sentencing him to die because he has something that wasn't his fault to begin with?"

Angel Dust clenched his fists, speaking up. "You've got to be kidding me! The guy's been through enough, and now you're going to rip him apart just to make yourselves feel better?"

Loona's voice cut through. "What's the point of your 'laws' if they destroy someone who's done nothing but protect the people around him?"

Charlie's voice trembled as tears formed in her eyes. "You can't do this. You just can't. He's not a monster—he's saved lives, he's helped so many people—"

Sera silenced the room with a raised hand, her tone cold and final. "This is not a matter of morality or heroics. This is about the law. The energy must be removed. If he survives, he may continue his existence in Hell."

Spawn, who had remained silent through the exchange, finally spoke. His voice was calm, though a hint of resignation could be heard beneath it. "I knew what I was walking into when I came here."

Charlie's holographic projection trembled as she tried to hold back her tears. "Al, please don't—"

He looked directly at her, his gaze steady. "It's alright, Charlie. This is my fight, and I'll face it."

The courtroom descended into an uneasy silence as Sera's ruling loomed over them like a stormcloud.

"No, we can't do this! Please Serra!" Emily shouted.

As Emily's pleas echoed through the grand courthouse, Sera's face remained impassive, her eyes fixed on the seraphim. "Enough, Emily," Sera said, her tone sharp and commanding. "You've said your piece. The court has ruled, and it is final."

Two Exorcists stepped forward, their white armor gleaming in the divine light as they moved to flank Emily. One of them gently took her by the arm.

"But there has to be another way!" Emily cried, struggling against their grip. Her voice cracked with desperation. "This isn't justice—it's cruelty! You're destroying someone who's already suffered more than anyone here can imagine!"

Sera turned her gaze downward to avoid the piercing sincerity in Emily's eyes. "Emily, this court's decisions are based on law and order, not emotions or sentiment. Take her out."

The Exorcists began to lead Emily away, but she dug her heels into the floor, fighting them with all her might. "Sera! Listen to me! You know this isn't what Heaven is supposed to be about! We're supposed to be better than this!"

Spawn watched from his seat, his jaw tightening as the seraphim's words rang out in the chamber. He had grown adept at spotting sincerity, and there was no denying the truth in Emily's voice.

Charlie's holographic projection turned to Lucifer, who had a contemplative expression. "She's right," Charlie whispered, tears in her eyes.

As Emily was dragged toward the door, she twisted around to face Sera one last time. Her voice, filled with raw emotion, cut through the tense silence. "If you do this, Sera, you're proving that Heaven is no better than Hell!"

Sera's stoic demeanor faltered for the briefest moment, but she quickly hardened her expression. Without another word, she motioned for the Exorcists to continue, and they escorted Emily out of the chamber, her cries growing faint as the doors closed behind her.

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, the echoes of Emily's accusations lingering like a haunting melody. Spawn, unflinching in his seat, muttered under his breath, "Kid's got guts."

Spawn's eyes narrowed as Sera descended, her ethereal glow casting harsh shadows across the courtroom. Her wings fanned out behind her, radiating an aura of divine authority. She moved with the grace of a ruler delivering final judgment, but Spawn saw nothing more than another tyrant drunk on their own righteousness.

"You think you're so different," Spawn growled, his tone low and cutting. "But it doesn't matter if it's Heaven or Hell. Entrenched leadership is always the same. Blind to their own hypocrisy, clinging to their power like it's divine right."

Sera's face remained impassive as her feet touched the floor. Her hands were clasped before her, and her voice carried a serene yet steely resolve. "You don't understand, Al Simmons. This is not about power—it is about maintaining the balance, preserving the natural order."

Spawn's lip curled into a snarl, his eyes blazing. "Don't give me that sanctimonious garbage. You're no better than the demons I've fought. You're just dressed up in prettier lies."

Sera sighed, a faint trace of weariness in her expression. "Your defiance is understandable, but it changes nothing. The energy within you is a threat, and it must be removed. I cannot promise the process will be painless, but I will do my best to make it swift."

Spawn let out a dark chuckle that sent a ripple of unease through the gathered angels. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to let you take anything from me."

Sera's serene facade hardened, and her voice turned cold. "This isn't about permission, Hellspawn. This is about necessity."

She raised her hand, and the air shimmered with divine power. Chains of glowing light materialized, snaking through the air toward Spawn. They coiled around him with a searing hiss, burning into his suit. Leetha writhed under the assault, her necroplasm tendrils recoiling from the holy energy as if in agony.

Spawn gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out despite the intense pain. The chains tightened, pulling him down to his knees, yet his gaze never wavered from Sera. "You're just proving my point," he spat, his voice raw but defiant. "You don't care about justice. All you care about is keeping things the way they are."

Sera stepped closer, her expression unyielding. "I care about ensuring the safety of Heaven and all that it protects. This is not a debate, Spawn. This is the will of Heaven."

Spawn's eyes blazed brighter as he struggled against the chains, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Will of Heaven, huh? Then let's see how far your will gets you."

The tension in the room was palpable, the gathered angels and witnesses watching in stunned silence as the confrontation reached its boiling point.

9:8:7:6

The glowing chains tightened further around Spawn, their holy light digging into his suit and skin alike. Smoke rose from the wounds, but Spawn didn't flinch. Instead, he fixed his burning gaze on Sera, his voice sharp and unwavering despite the agony coursing through him.

"Change is inevitable," he growled, his tone like gravel grinding against steel. "Nothing lasts forever, not your rules, not your order, and certainly not your power. The only ones who fear change are cowards or fools. And those who try to stop it?" He leaned forward as much as the chains would allow, his eyes boring into hers. "They're both."

The courtroom was silent, the weight of his words pressing on everyone present. Angels shifted uncomfortably, some exchanging uneasy glances, while others bristled at the audacity of a Hellspawn lecturing one of Heaven's highest authorities.

Sera's expression tightened, but she refused to let his words shake her. Her voice was calm yet resolute as she raised her hand, her palm glowing with divine energy. "Your defiance is admirable but futile. Change must be tempered with order. Without balance, there is only chaos."

Spawn's lip curled into a bitter smirk. "Balance? That's just your excuse for keeping things exactly the way they are. But go ahead, Sera. Prove me right."

Without another word, Sera extended her glowing hand toward him. The air between them shimmered, rippling with celestial energy as she began the process of extracting the divine energy within Spawn.

The pain was immediate and excruciating. Spawn's body seized as the divine power clashed with his necroplasm, both forces struggling for dominance. Leetha shrieked in his mind, the suit writhing against the chains in a futile attempt to protect its host.

But even as the light poured into him, threatening to rip him apart, Spawn's gaze remained locked on Sera. His voice, hoarse but defiant, cut through the air.

"You can't stop what's coming. You never could."

9:0:0:1

The holograms flickered slightly, but Charlie and the others could still see every agonizing detail. Spawn's body convulsed as the divine energy was being pulled out of him, his necroplasm fighting back with everything it had. The chains binding him glowed brighter, smoke and sparks rising from his form.

Vaggie gripped Charlie's arm tightly, her face pale. "This can't be happening," she whispered. "They're killing him."

Angel Dust, uncharacteristically quiet, clenched his fists. "I thought the guy was indestructible," he muttered, his voice trembling. "He's supposed to be unstoppable..."

Husk's usual stoicism cracked. "No one can take that kind of punishment forever."

Blitzo stared at the scene, his usual snark absent. "This... this isn't right," he said, his voice unsteady. Loona stood beside him, biting her lip so hard it almost drew blood, her ears flat against her head.

Millie wrapped her arms around Moxxie, who looked utterly shattered. His hands trembled as he stared at the sight of Spawn struggling against the light. "He... he doesn't deserve this," Moxxie choked out. "He helped me. He helped all of us. And now they're just..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

Charlie, tears streaming down her face, turned desperately to her father. "Dad," she sobbed, clutching at his arm. "You have to do something! Please, don't let this happen!"

Lucifer, for once, didn't have an answer. His usual air of confidence was replaced by a look of profound conflict. He stared at Spawn, watching the man who had changed Hell itself endure unimaginable pain. "I..." he started, his voice uncharacteristically strained. "I don't know if I can, my star."

Charlie's tears fell harder at his admission, but she refused to give up. "You're the King of Hell! You have to try!"

Lucifer's hands clenched into fists as he looked back at the scene. "If I intervene now, it might make things worse. But..." His voice trailed off as he struggled with the decision.

In the courtroom, Spawn let out a guttural growl, forcing himself to meet Sera's gaze despite the overwhelming pain. "Is this all you've got?" he spat, his voice ragged but defiant. "You'll have to do better than this to kill me."

Sera faltered for a moment, her expression flickering with doubt. But she steeled herself, intensifying the glow in her hand as the divine extraction continued.

8:6:7:5

Outside the courthouse, Emily's fists pounded desperately against the golden doors, the sound echoing in the stillness of Heaven's pristine streets. Her wings flared with agitation, feathers trembling with each hit. "Let me in!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "You have to stop this! This isn't justice!"

Nearby, Abel paused mid-conversation, the soft murmur of his voice cutting off as he turned to see Emily's frantic efforts. His bright, fulvous eyes widened, and he quickly approached, his pastel-orange wings shifting as he picked up his pace. "Emily?" he called out, concern lacing his tone.

Emily turned, her face streaked with tears and her expression a mixture of anger and despair. "Abel!" she cried. "You have to help me! They're hurting him in there—Spawn! They're trying to rip the divine energy out of him, and it's going to kill him!"

Abel's expression softened with confusion, then concern, his brow furrowing. "Spawn? The sinner everyone's talking about?"

Emily nodded frantically. "Yes! But he's not what they think he is! He's different—he's good, Abel. He doesn't deserve this. Sera and Lute are going too far!"

Abel placed a calming hand on her shoulder, his gentle demeanor immediately easing some of her tension. "Alright, Emily," he said softly. "Calm down and tell me everything."

Emily took a shaky breath, her words tumbling out as she explained everything—Spawn's trial, his defense, and the clear pain he was in as the divine energy was being torn from his body. Abel listened intently, his wings twitching with unease as her story unfolded.

When she finished, he stepped back, his face a mixture of guilt and determination. "That doesn't sound right," he said, his voice firm despite the uncertainty in his eyes. "Sera and the others—they're supposed to be about mercy and fairness, not... this."

"Then help me!" Emily pleaded, gripping his arm.

Abel hesitated for only a moment before nodding resolutely. "Alright," he said. "Let's go. If this is what you say it is, we can't let it continue."

Emily's wings fluttered with relief as she turned back to the doors. "Come on," she said, a renewed sense of hope in her voice. "We have to stop this before it's too late."

Together, they pushed against the courthouse doors, their combined determination driving them forward.

7:3:3:7

Saint Peter's wings beat furiously as he soared through the radiant streets of Heaven, his usual calm demeanor shattered. His face was pale with shock, his golden halo tilted slightly askew from his haste, and his ancient book was clutched tightly against his chest.

He muttered to himself as he flew, his voice barely above a whisper but trembling with urgency. "This can't be... It's not possible... But if it's true..."

He rounded a corner, the grand courthouse coming into view, its golden spires gleaming in Heaven's eternal light. Peter descended rapidly, his feet barely touching the pristine ground as he skidded to a halt at the doors.

"Excuse me!" Peter barked, his voice unusually curt as he pushed past Emily and Abel, who stood frozen in surprise.

"Saint Peter?" Emily asked, her wings twitching in confusion. "What's—"

"No time!" Peter interrupted, his trembling hand diving into the pocket of his robes. He pulled out a large ring of keys, each one unique and ornate, the metal glinting with ethereal light.

With practiced precision, Peter selected one, its head shaped like a blazing sun. He inserted it into the courthouse doors, the lock glowing momentarily before the massive doors swung open with an echoing creak.

Peter didn't hesitate. He clutched his book tighter and hurried inside, his sandals clicking against the polished floors.

Emily and Abel exchanged wide-eyed glances. "What's going on?" Abel asked, his gentle voice laced with concern.

"I don't know," Emily said, her wings spreading as she stepped forward. "But we're going to find out."

Without another word, the two angels followed Peter inside, the heavy doors swinging shut behind them as they entered the courtroom, unprepared for the chaos that awaited them.

6:3:3:4

The chains around Spawn burned hotter, digging deeper into his flesh and the symbiotic suit that struggled to protect him. Leetha quivered, her movements more frantic and erratic than ever before, as if she were on the verge of breaking apart under the strain.

Spawn gritted his teeth, the pain in his body overshadowed only by the war raging within him. The more Sera tugged at the divine essence buried inside, the harder it became to keep it at bay. His mind was a battlefield, a storm of conflicting forces surging against his will.

Deep within the recesses of his being, something ancient stirred. Something he had long since buried. It was a power that he had once wielded with awe-inspiring fury, a side of himself that he had chosen to suppress. The divine energy within him, awakened by Sera's pull, seemed to stretch and strain against the cage he had crafted for it.

"No..." Spawn growled, his voice barely above a whisper but heavy with defiance. He clenched his fists, trying to force the power back down, trying to keep it sealed away. "Not again..."

But the energy was relentless. It pushed against the boundaries he had set, slipping through cracks like water through a fractured dam.

Sera's expression tightened as she continued her work, seemingly oblivious to the internal war Spawn was fighting. "You resist in vain," she said coldly. "This energy does not belong to you. It never did."

Spawn's eyes burned, glowing brighter with every second. His voice, though strained, was unyielding. "You... have no idea... what you're doing..."

The courtroom seemed to darken, despite the brilliance of Heaven's light. A low, almost imperceptible hum began to resonate in the air around Spawn, a vibration that caused the angels present to exchange uneasy glances.

Sera hesitated for a moment, her hands faltering as she felt something shift in the energy she was extracting. It was no longer a passive resistance. It was pushing back, a force so potent and unfamiliar that even her centuries of wisdom couldn't comprehend it.

"What is this?" she whispered, her voice betraying the first flicker of doubt.

Spawn's body tensed, his head tilting back as a guttural roar escaped his lips. The ground beneath him cracked, thin fissures spreading outward like veins of defiance. And deep within him, the sleeping power stirred, no longer content to be subdued. It was awakening, unwillingly but unstoppably, a part of him that he had sworn would never rise again.

5:3:1:9

Saint Peter, his wings tucked tightly against his back, strode purposefully down the gleaming hallway, the ancient book clutched firmly in his hands. Emily and Abel followed closely behind, their expressions a mix of urgency and unease.

When they reached the towering doors to the courtroom, they found their path blocked by a group of Exorcists, their weapons crossed to form a barrier.

"I need to speak with the high Seraphim immediately," Saint Peter declared, his voice calm but firm.

Lute stepped forward from the group, her stern gaze meeting his. "The high Seraphim is currently engaged in a matter of the utmost importance. Whatever it is, Saint Peter, it will have to wait."

Saint Peter's brows furrowed, his grip on the book tightening. "This cannot wait," he said, his tone sharpening. "I have information that may alter the course of what's happening in there."

Lute remained unmoved. "I assure you, nothing is more important than what is taking place in that courtroom right now."

Before Saint Peter could respond, he paused, his head tilting slightly. A faint tremor seemed to ripple through the air, subtle yet deeply unsettling. His sharp eyes darted toward the courtroom doors, and his voice dropped into a serious tone. "What's going on in there?"

Lute hesitated for a moment but straightened her posture. "The high Seraphim is extracting dangerous divine energy from a sinner. It's a delicate and vital process. Interrupting it could have catastrophic consequences."

Saint Peter's expression darkened, his wings shifting slightly. "You're tampering with divine energy? You realize the potential ramifications of such an act?"

Lute's gaze hardened. "The energy doesn't belong to him. It was stolen, and it must be removed. The high Seraphim has everything under control."

Emily stepped forward, her voice laced with concern. "Saint Peter's right. This isn't something to take lightly. Please, let us through!"

Abel nodded, his soft but steady voice carrying weight. "We don't know what's happening in there, but the air itself feels… wrong. This isn't normal."

Lute glared at them, but before she could speak, the ground beneath their feet trembled, and a low, guttural sound echoed faintly from beyond the doors. The Exorcists exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence shaken.

Saint Peter's eyes widened slightly as the tremor subsided, and he took a step closer to Lute. His tone was now cold and commanding. "If you continue to block my path, the consequences of your actions will fall squarely on your shoulders. I must speak with the high Seraphim now."

Lute hesitated, her resolve visibly faltering as another tremor rippled through the air. Finally, with a begrudging sigh, she stepped aside and motioned for the other Exorcists to do the same.

Without wasting another moment, Saint Peter pushed the massive doors open, his sharp gaze scanning the courtroom. Emily and Abel followed closely behind, their steps hesitant but determined.

The sight that greeted them was enough to make them pause in shock. The courtroom was in chaos, its once-pristine floor now cracked and glowing with lines of light. Sera stood before Spawn, her hands trembling as she struggled to extract the divine energy. Spawn, bound in chains that burned into his flesh, was radiating an intense, otherworldly aura, his glowing eyes locked on Sera with an unwavering intensity.

4:3:2:1

As the relentless extraction continued, Spawn's body trembled, his form shifting under the immense pressure. His iconic crimson cape, usually flowing like an extension of his own will, began to dissolve into wisps of faint, glowing embers. His suit, once a menacing black and white, seemed to glow, the dark tones developing a strange metallic sheen, as if reflecting the very divine energy being drawn out of him.

The courtroom itself began to react to the surge of power. The divine light that bathed the room, constant and unwavering, started to flicker unpredictably, casting eerie, strobe-like shadows across the walls. Gasps rippled through the gathered angels as they exchanged uncertain glances, their confidence shaken.

Sera's hands trembled as she maintained her focus, her expression unreadable but tense. The glowing chains binding Spawn quivered, struggling to hold his form as cracks of radiant light began to spread across them.

Spawn's head lowered, his glowing eyes shut tight as if in deep concentration. His voice, low and guttural, broke through the chaos. "You're pushing something that should never have been awakened…"

Suddenly, a loud, unnatural hum filled the air. The holographic projections of Charlie, Lucifer, and the others began to distort, their forms flickering like static on a failing screen. "Al?!" Charlie's panicked voice echoed faintly before the projections blinked out entirely, leaving the room eerily silent save for the hum of raw, unrestrained power.

With their connection severed, Charlie and the others could only watch helplessly from the embassy as the screens went black. Charlie's trembling voice cut through the tension. "What just happened?"

Back in the courtroom, the gathered angels began to murmur, their composure unraveling as the light overhead flickered more violently. Even Sera hesitated for a brief moment, the sheer force radiating from Spawn unlike anything she'd ever encountered.

Emily, who had slipped into the room unnoticed during the commotion, gasped as she took in the sight before her. Her voice barely a whisper, she turned to Saint Peter. "What is happening to him?"

Saint Peter's usually calm demeanor faltered as his gaze fixed on Spawn, his expression grim. "Something far beyond any of us... something we may not be able to stop."

3:2:3:7

The courtroom was engulfed in a blinding flash of light, far brighter than any angel present had ever witnessed. It burned with an intensity that was both divine and terrifying, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. A guttural roar echoed through the chamber, shaking the very foundations of Heaven itself.

The surge of light was not confined to the courtroom. Outside the courthouse, Heaven itself seemed to shudder under the intensity of the radiance. The skies, usually calm and serene, blazed with the same golden light emanating from within the trial chamber. Angels in the surrounding districts stopped in their tracks, shielding their eyes and murmuring in confusion and awe as the brilliance washed over them.

In the grand halls of the Celestial Sanctuary, far removed from the courthouse, Metatron, the Speaker of God, felt the tremor in the air. Seated upon a throne of celestial light, his piercing eyes narrowed, the sacred tome he was reading slipping from his grasp. The brilliance of the surge filtered into his chamber, illuminating every corner with a blinding intensity.

"What is this disturbance?" Metatron's voice boomed, resonating with divine authority. It carried through the halls like the toll of a great bell, summoning lesser angels to his side.

One of his attendants, a lower-ranking angel, approached cautiously, bowing low. "My Lord Metatron, the light... it is originating from the courthouse where the trial is being held."

Metatron rose to his feet, his towering form casting an imposing silhouette against the golden backdrop of his chamber. His wings, vast and shimmering, unfolded as he stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. "Such a display... it cannot be an ordinary trial. Inform me of the details immediately."

The attendant hesitated. "The trial concerns the mortal soul known as Al Simmons... the one referred to as Spawn."

Metatron paused, his gaze sharpening. "Albert Simmons..." he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with a weight that spoke of knowledge long concealed. "I have heard whispers of this one."

He turned to another attendant, his tone commanding. "Send word to Sera. I want a full account of what transpires within those walls. If this light is what I think it is... we may be standing on the precipice of something far greater than a mere trial."

As the lesser angels scrambled to fulfill his orders, Metatron turned his gaze toward the distant courthouse, his expression unreadable. "Al Simmons," he murmured again. "What are you?"

Far below in Los Angeles, the celestial surge reached beyond the ethereal realm. It was night, and the city's usual hum of activity filled the air. Detective Salty and Timmy were parked at a gas station, Salty leaning against the hood of their car as he tore open the wrapper of one of his favorite gas station burritos. Timmy was inside, meticulously preparing coffee and muttering about Salty's terrible eating habits.

As Salty took a bite, the city was abruptly engulfed in a strange, radiant glow. The sky above them lit up with an otherworldly brilliance, so intense that it bathed the streets, buildings, and cars in shimmering gold. Every light in the city—from streetlamps to headlights—flickered and dimmed in unison, as though paying homage to the sudden surge of energy.

Salty froze mid-chew, his burrito forgotten as he craned his neck to look up at the sky. "What in the blue fuck is that?" he muttered to himself.

Timmy burst out of the gas station, his coffee sloshing as he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the sky in awe. "Saul, are you seeing this?"

Salty nodded, his mouth still slightly agape. "Yeah, Timmy. I'm seeing it. The real question is—what the hell is it?"

The golden light pulsed, casting the city in a surreal glow that made every shadow retreat. Across Los Angeles, people stopped in their tracks, drivers pulled over, and emergency responders froze, unsure of what was happening. Unbeknownst to the two detectives, this phenomenon wasn't confined to L.A.—the entire world was witnessing the same event.

Timmy turned to Salty, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and apprehension. "It's like... like something out of the Bible or some ancient legend."

Salty, ever the skeptic, squinted at the golden sky. "I don't know about that, kid. But whatever it is, it sure as hell ain't normal."

The light began to fade, the city's artificial lights flickering back to life. For a moment, silence blanketed the streets. Then the sounds of car alarms and confused chatter began to fill the air.

Timmy took a shaky sip of his coffee, his hands trembling. "You think it has something to do with those murders?"

Salty glanced at his partner, his expression grim. "If it does, kid, I think we're way out of our depth on this one."

Timmy nodded slowly, the implications settling heavy in his mind. Above them, the sky returned to its usual inky black, but the memory of that light lingered—etched into their minds as a sign of something far beyond their comprehension.

In a shadowed back alleyway of a bustling city, Barbie Wire—dressed in her human disguise—conducted her less-than-legal business under the cover of night. Her disguise was flawless, blending her into the gritty urban environment as just another dealer looking to make a quick buck. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her sharp eyes locked on her buyer, a jittery man fumbling with a wad of cash.

"C'mon," Barbie said, her voice low and impatient. "I don't have all night."

The man hastily handed over the money, muttering something incoherent as Barbie snatched it, counting it quickly before pulling a small plastic bag from her pocket. She tossed it to him with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the alley for any unwanted onlookers.

But before the transaction could fully conclude, the entire alleyway was suddenly illuminated by a radiant golden light. The bag of drugs fell from the buyer's hand as he shielded his eyes, and Barbie squinted, her sharp instincts immediately kicking in.

"What the hell—" she muttered, her voice trailing off as she stepped away from the wall and looked up at the sky. The golden light was unlike anything she had ever seen. It wasn't just bright—it was divine, pure, and completely overwhelming.

The man she was dealing with dropped to his knees, babbling incoherently. "It's a sign! Oh my God, it's a sign!"

Barbie rolled her eyes, taking a step back as her heart pounded in her chest. "Yeah, a sign that you're an idiot," she snapped, though her usual sharp tone was laced with unease.

The light continued to pulse, casting everything in a surreal glow that made the grimy alley look almost pristine. For a brief moment, Barbie felt something she rarely experienced—dread. This wasn't just some freak electrical storm or a trick of the city lights. This was... something else.

As quickly as it had appeared, the light began to fade, leaving the alley in darkness once more. The man on the ground was still muttering, his hands clasped together in prayer. Barbie sneered, but her hands trembled as she stuffed the cash into her pocket.

"Get out of here," she barked at the man, her voice shaking slightly.

The man scrambled to his feet, clutching the bag of drugs as he ran off into the night. Barbie stayed behind, leaning against the wall and staring up at the sky where the light had come from.

"What the hell was that?" she whispered to herself, her mind racing.

For the first time in years, Barbie felt genuinely unnerved. Whatever that light was, it wasn't normal—and it sure as hell wasn't something she could ignore.

The agents of D.H.O.R.K.S. were in the middle of their usual surveillance operations, monitoring supernatural activity across the globe. In their sterile, high-tech control room, glowing monitors displayed feeds from various hotspots around the world.

Suddenly, the screens flickered, and an eerie silence overtook the hum of machinery. The lights in the facility dimmed momentarily, and then a sudden, inexplicable burst of energy lit up the sky outside, bathing the entire compound in an otherworldly glow.

"What the hell was that?" one agent shouted, scrambling to adjust the monitors.

The lead agent, a no-nonsense woman with graying hair and a sharp gaze, stood frozen for a moment before barking orders. "Run a full spectrum analysis! I want every satellite feed we've got triangulated on that light source! Move it, people!"

Another agent at a nearby console yelled out, "It's global! All major systems reported a power fluctuation at the same time! It's like the entire grid hiccupped!"

A younger agent, his hands trembling as he typed furiously, turned to the lead. "Ma'am, this isn't localized. Whatever that was… it wasn't natural. I'm picking up celestial signatures—"

"Celestial?" she snapped, turning to face him.

"Yes, ma'am," he confirmed, swallowing hard. "Off the charts. We've never seen anything like it before."

The lead agent's face darkened as she processed the information. "Get every operative on standby. Whatever's happening, it's not from this world. And I want eyes on anything and anyone that might be connected to this."

A silence fell over the room as the agents watched the replay of the divine surge on their screens, the glow searing itself into their minds.

"We've been tracking demons for years," the lead agent muttered, almost to herself. "But this? This is different. And I have a feeling we're about to find out just how different."

The room buzzed with renewed urgency as the agents began scouring every piece of data they could find, their nerves heightened. Whatever this was, it wasn't just an anomaly—it was the beginning of something far larger.

Deep below in the infernal depths of Hell, the sudden, radiant surge of light was felt and seen by all. It cut through the ever-present gloom like a knife, illuminating the dark, jagged landscapes with an intensity that had never been seen before. Sinners and demons alike froze in their tracks, their eyes drawn upward to the source of the unexpected brilliance.

For a brief, terrifying moment, the collective thought was the same: The extermination has returned.

In the bustling streets of Pentagram City, sinners scrambled for cover, screaming and shouting in confusion. The bright glow reflected off the crimson sky, its celestial nature clashing with the chaotic, malevolent energy of Hell. Imps abandoned their errands, and bar brawls came to an immediate halt as even the most hardened sinners felt a shiver of dread crawl down their spines.

"What the hell is this?!" one demon shouted, shielding his eyes from the blinding light.

"It's gotta be the Exorcists!" another cried, clutching a jagged weapon tightly, though his hands trembled.

The demons who patrolled the lower rings gazed at the phenomenon with narrowed eyes, unsure if this was a sign of Heaven's wrath or something far stranger. Even Mammon, perched on his throne in the Greed Ring, squinted at the sudden burst of light cutting through the infernal haze. His usual arrogance was replaced with uncertainty as he muttered to himself, "What the hell's goin' on now?"

But as the surge began to fade and the familiar shadows of Hell crept back into dominance, the panic slowly gave way to confusion. Nothing else happened. There was no sound of trumpets, no holy warriors descending from on high, no sign of an extermination force.

In Cannibal Town, one of the sinners whispered, "That wasn't the extermination..."

In Lust Ring, Fizzarolli looked to Asmodeus, who simply stared at the now-darkened sky, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a furrowed brow. "Something big's going down," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically grave.

Whispers began to spread like wildfire across the circles of Hell. If this wasn't the Extermination, then what was it? What kind of power could create such a celestial surge, felt even in the depths of Hell itself?

And more importantly... what did it mean?

As the light began to fade, gasps of awe and fear filled the room. Where Spawn once stood, now emerged a radiant being of unparalleled power. His form, though still recognizable, was transformed. His suit gleamed like glossy obsidian and silver, his gauntlets now a fine leathery brown. From his back, two massive, ethereal wings burst forth, each feather shimmering with a light that seemed to pulse with life itself.

The sheer force of the transformation sent everyone in the room flying backward, their divine balance utterly disrupted. The chains that had bound Spawn erupted and shattered into countless shards, vanishing into the air like dissipating smoke.

Sera, struggling to maintain her composure, was knocked from her position, landing unceremoniously on the floor. Her regal composure cracked as she stared in disbelief at the figure before her.

Saint Peter, caught in the shockwave, was sent tumbling backward. His prized book flew from his grasp, skidding across the marble floor before coming to rest, its pages flapping open. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the book settling.

Curious, Emily, who had clutched the wall to avoid being thrown, saw the book lying open and rushed to it. Her eyes fell upon the very first page, and what she saw made her heart stop.

There, above all names recorded in Heaven's history, above every saint, angel, and being that had ever graced these hallowed halls, was a single name inscribed in shimmering golden letters:

"Albert Simmons."