The New Demon King

by kilomarski

This will be a cross over between High School DXD and Misfit of the Demon King Academy. The Story will follow the same path as DXD with alterations. At the moment I plan to only have Anos cross over but if I can find a way to transfer more characters over I will. In this Fanfic Anos will find himself in a new world with a fresh start and deciding on going back or to stay here.

38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38 The True Rulers of the Underworld: Part 1: The Lowest Level

---

Anos stood calmly, his posture unshaken, even as the eerie green light enveloped Serafall and Issei's bodies.

The tension in the air was palpable, like the moment before a storm.

Everyone around him watched, a silent chorus of fear and curiosity rising from their collective uncertainty.

"Anos, what are you planning to do?" Sona's voice was laced with a mix of concern and confusion. Her gaze darted between the still bodies of her sister and Issei and the calm, unnervingly confident expression on Anos's face.

"Don't worry, I'm bringing them both back," Anos said in a low, measured tone.

His words, though seemingly reassuring, carried an undertone of finality that made every one pause.

The green magic circle beneath them swirled and pulsed, radiating a strange energy that seemed to distort the air around them.

Sona watched as Anos spoke the incantation: "Ingall."

But as the spell's light intensified, both Serafall and Issei's bodies began twitching violently, their once peaceful forms jerking as though they were caught in the throes of an internal struggle.

Anos's calm demeanor wavered only slightly, his focus sharpening, but for the others, the scene was growing more alarming by the second.

"Anos, what's going on?!" Sona's voice quivered now, a flash of panic creeping in as her sister's body contorted unnaturally.

Ophis, standing beside Anos, remained eerily quiet, but her eyes never left the two fallen devils.

Her mind worked behind the stillness, a quiet storm of calculations, as though she was already anticipating what was to come.

Anos's gaze hardened.

He could feel the black aura curling off Serafall and Issei's bodies like a thick fog, a familiar, deathly sensation that seemed to reject the spell's intent.

This wasn't a simple possession—it was something far more dangerous.

As Serafall's body finally stabilized, her eyes snapped open with a suddenness that was both unnerving and terrifying.

The once gentle and playful expression of the lively devil queen was now replaced by a chilling, deranged smile, a smile devoid of warmth.

"Mother, we will not fail," Serafall murmured, her voice a strange, echoing distortion of her usual self.

Sona's breath caught in her throat, feeling as though the ground beneath her was slipping away.

It was her sister she was alive at first she thought something went wrong with how violently she was twitching.

That didn't matter now because she was back.

With sudden speed, Serafall's form moved, and before Sona could react, she was engulfed in a cold embrace.

"It's okay, So-tan," Serafall cooed, her voice low and unnatural. "Everything is going to be fine now."

The familiar nickname—one that always carried so much love—now felt like a knife digging into Sona's chest.

There was no warmth, no affection, just a hollow, unsettling mimicry of her sister's kindness.

Sona's fingers trembled as she pulled away, staring into Serafall's face, her sister's features twisted into an eerie, unrecognizable expression.

"Sister...?" Sona whispered, her voice wavering.

Serafall's smile twisted further, her green eyes flickering with something dark and alien. "Yes, So-tan,…" She chuckled, but the sound was wrong—mocking, not loving.

Sona's mind screamed, but before she could process her emotions, Anos's voice cut through the haze.

"Get back," he said, his tone commanding, and before Sona could protest, he yanked her away from Serafall with a surprising force, pulling her into his arms as Ophis stepped protectively in front of them.

Anos's eyes gleamed with a sharp intensity as he scanned the battlefield, watching both Issei and Serafall carefully.

"That isn't your sister," he said putting her down, his voice cold, yet tinged with something that could only be described as sorrow.

Sona's heart stopped. Her sister wasn't here anymore. And worse—Anos was right. That... that thing that looked like Serafall wasn't her sister, it was something else.

Sona could barely process the shock of it all, her mind racing to understand the implications of Anos's words.

Issei, now awake and casually flexing his fingers, didn't seem the least bit concerned.

He glanced over to Anos, his lips curling into a bored smirk.

"Mother wanted us to drag you back by force, but I doubt it'll take much."

His voice was low, almost mocking, as though he couldn't care less about the situation.

"So, I take it your mother has lost her patience," Anos replied, his tone not even the slightest bit amused. His eyes narrowed, assessing the situation.

The air around them thickened, the energy of their presence dark and suffocating. It wasn't just Serafall and Issei who had been tainted—it was something far more sinister than mere possession.

"I assume you are associates of Death," saying that grabbed both of their attention; Issei lazily looked over to Anos while Serafall peered at him with keen interest.

"So I take it your mother has lost her patience," said Anos, eyeing the both of them suspiciously, "Or I should ask Erisk…" but he is cut off by Serafall.

"Watch it, boy," said Serafall, narrowing her eyes and flaring her black aura. In terms of power, they were weaker than Sirzechs but as strong as Serafall or Grayfia, so they were somewhere around the level of an Ultimate Class Devil.

"Greed, get on with it," said Issei, picking up a stone and playing with it in his fingers, uninterested in being here. Greed glanced back at Issei, nodding, then turned her attention back to Anos, "True…" she started as part of her shadow separated from her.

Then, a black lance rose from the shadow with a purple gem above the grip, and Greed grabbed it.

"To answer your question, yes, Mother has. So will you come willing, or shall we drag you back by force?"

Greed twirled the lance, slinging it over her shoulder and awaiting Anos answer, if this was any other day, Anos would have entertained himself with the thought of playing with them.

But he was not in the mood, plus they were inhabiting the bodies of his allies, so he was going to purge them from their bodies.

"I shall go," started Anos as Greed lowered her lance, "But you're going to have to leave those bodies."

Without a sign, silver magic circles appeared below Greed and Sloth as they were engulfed in a light beam.

Anos looked down at his hand something about the spell felt off, like he used more magic than he intended, plus he felt drained.

On the outside, Rin was doing her best to ignore everyone around her and their questions about everything from Anos arriving, the red and purple mist, him wielding a holy sword, his ability to raise the dead, and what he meant by that wasn't Serafall.

Then, Rin loudly clapped her hands, generating a large shockwave that silenced them all, "Be silent…I have the answers you are looking for. So listen, for I will not repeat it twice."

Rin didn't feel the need to ask Anos for permission to reveal his secret since she asked him earlier if he was ready.

"And how would you know anything you are just a maid," said Rias, dismissing Rin's statement, doubting Rin even knew a thing.

As far as anyone knew, she was some maid Anos picked up a while ago, so Rias doubts were understandable, how would a maid know more about her brother than her, she was his twin.

"Maid," questioned Rin, then she released barely even a fraction of her aura, silencing them all as she slowly turned to Anos, "I am…no maid…sister of Anos."

Rin then reigned in her aura, dispelling the illusion and revealing her draconic aura.

"My name is not Rin, it is Ophis, The Infinite Dragon God and your brother and your finance," said Ophis, looking at Rias and Sona, "Is not the man you think he is."

"Who the heck is Ophis," asked Saji, leaning toward Momo, he understood what a god and a dragon was but didn't understand who Ophis was.

"Ophis is a very ancient and powerful dragon. Some call her a living calamity capable of destroying the world with no equal in power except for another called Great Red."

She answered in a low whisper, "What da-fuck is someone like that doing here dressed as a maid serving master Anos."

Momo truly didn't have the answer.

It was crazy to think Ophis was here serving as a Maid for Anos, so she had just as many questions as everyone else.

Everyone who knew Ophis took a step back in caution it wasn't often you met a dragon, and on top of them being one of only two in existence.

"Do not be alarmed I wouldn't hurt any friends of Anos, especially his fiancee and sister. I value my life more than to try something like that."

Rias let out a nervous chuckle, "You make it sound like my brother wields such power," it was truly a weird state to end with she made it sound like Anos could kill a Dragon god.

"From what I have seen, I bet he could, but as I was saying, he isn't who you think he is," Ophis then paused, rubbing her chin, "Well, to be factually correct, there is more to your brother that you know."

"What do you mean exactly," asked Sona, "In his past life, he was called Anos Voldigoad, and he is a demon king from another world."

---

The chaos erupted as Greed's laughter echoed through the chamber, the beam of white light illuminating her figure but failing to purge her from Serafall's body.

Anos narrowed his eyes, analyzing her every move as she stepped forward, completely unaffected.

"So, this is the spell that sent Four crashing into Mother's domain when he tried to retrieve that fallen one," Greed sneered, twirling her lance with an air of smugness.

The Purge Spell was used to force foreign entities from inhabiting another's body but only worked when the body had a soul already inhabiting it.

Since Issei's and Serafall's bodies have already passed, Greed and Sloth are now the new owners of their bodies.

"Impressive, but it only works on souls inhabiting a body with another's spirit still intact. These bodies? They're ours now."

Her voice was laced with venomous confidence, and Anos could sense her belief in her invulnerability.

He stepped forward without hesitation, his presence growing heavier with every step.

"Your plan is flawed," Greed said, smirking as she raised her lance toward him.

"Would you really harm the body of your lover's sister in front of her?"

Anos paused, his gaze shifting to Sona. Her tear-streaked face stared back at him, silently pleading. Greed's smirk widened at the hesitation.

"I see..." Anos muttered, his tone chilling.

With a flick of his wrist, two drops of his blood fell to the ground.

A crimson magic circle blazed to life, and from it, perfect copies of Issei's and Serafall's bodies emerged, whole and untainted.

Greed's confidence faltered, her smirk turning into a look of disbelief. "Impossible!"

"You underestimated me," Anos growled, closing the distance in an instant.

His hand shot through her chest like a spear, shattering her aura.

Greed retaliated, thrusting her lance into his heart, its malevolent power attempting to consume his essence.

But Anos's eyes gleamed, and the lance shattered into shards with a deafening crack.

"How?!" Greed gasped, clutching her chest as white flames engulfed her.

"Your tricks are worthless," Anos declared, tossing her charred body to the ground.

Before he could advance on Sloth, a burning fist shot toward his face.

Anos caught it mid-air, spinning and hurling Greed's still-burning form across the battlefield. She landed gracefully, half her body scorched, yet she smirked through the pain.

"You're persistent," Anos noted, his tone sharp.

"You've got some delicious magic," Greed said mockingly, her wounds healing as she chewed on the flames.

With a sickening sound, she consumed the fire entirely, her body surging with stolen power.

"She's consuming my magic to heal and grow stronger," Anos thought, watching as she zipped around with incredible speed.

Appearing behind him, Greed launched a punch engulfed in white fire—the very flames he had used against her.

Anos caught it effortlessly but felt a strange pull on his energy.

"She's more than just resilient; she absorbs and replicates what she consumes," Anos realized, his patience thinning.

His crimson eyes flared with destructive power, and a pulse of energy erupted from him, sending Greed flying.

Greed struggled to move as Anos's demonic eyes neutralized the magic she had absorbed, leaving her immobile.

"You figured me out..." she muttered, her voice weak.

"Indeed," Anos said coldly, encasing her in a barrier. "Your gluttony is your undoing."

He unleashed a storm of over a hundred Jio Graze detonations within the barrier.

The light and heat were blinding, and when the barrier dissipated, there was nothing left of Greed.

Anos turned his gaze to Sloth, still frozen in shock, his cursed magic powerless against the Demon King.

"How did you destroy the curse bestowed upon me by Mother," Sloth flashed his eyes but his power was no longer working on Anos and the only person who had the power to do that was his mother.

Even the other sins didn't have the power to resist his power completely.

"You're next," Anos growled, his voice a death sentence. In a blur, he was upon Sloth, his hand gripping the trembling sinner's throat.

Sloth could only gasp in terror, the crushing weight of Anos's power rendering him helpless.

For the first time, he understood why Four feared him more than their mother.

He severely underestimated Anos power, plus he was once of Sins mothers strongest subordinates.

Unlike the others, he wasn't a physical fighter but without his magic, he was weak as one of the numbers.

"Stop there unless you want me to kill this girl and destroy their souls."

Slowly, Anos turned, his crimson eyes locking onto the source of the threat.

There she stood—Death, not Mittelt but the very embodiment of it—her hand wrapped like a vice around Koneko's limp form, holding her aloft as if she were no more than a ragdoll.

"You've come to face me yourself," Anos said, his voice low, reverberating with an ominous finality. In a swift motion, he gripped Sloth by the neck and hoisted him into the air, mirroring Death's hold on Koneko.

Death's eyes narrowed, her irritation flickering into something darker.

"Do not test me, boy. I hold the cards here," she hissed, tightening her grip on Koneko's throat—or so she thought.

Koneko's body vanished like mist, leaving Death's hand grasping at empty air.

Her smirk faltered briefly before reforming, sharper and more sinister. "A clever move Ophis," she whispered, her voice dripping with malice. "But a wise opponent always comes with contingencies."

Two azure flames ignited in her open palm, flickering with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Before she could savor her upper hand, Anos's arm shot forward like a lightning strike, his hand plunging into her chest. Death staggered, a gasp escaping her lips as blood splattered onto the ground.

"Careful now," she rasped, her smirk never fading. "You almost made me crush their souls. If that happens, not even you could bring them back."

Anos withdrew his hand, watching as the wound sealed itself, her unnatural vitality mocking him.

"Well, aren't you noble, Demon King?" she sneered. Her expression darkened as she tapped into the stolen knowledge she'd acquired.

"Now I see... That explains it. No wonder I can't claim your soul. Your magic... it's beyond mine. And you've shielded yourself well."

Anos's gaze burned into her as he stepped closer. His voice was cold and deliberate.

"If you so much as harm their souls, no force in this universe will stop me from making you suffer tenfold."

Death tilted her head, the smirk never leaving her face, but there was an unease in her eyes, a flicker of doubt.

"You talk big, but let's see if you can back it up," she said, her voice low and menacing.

With a sharp tap of her foot, the ground beneath them collapsed inward, revealing a gaping pit of blackness that seemed to devour all light.

Anos peered into the abyss, his expression unreadable.

"You think this will stop me?" he asked, his tone almost amused.

Death's laughter was cold and hollow.

"The living cannot enter my realm unless through one of my gates. And there's only one left, isn't there? The one no one else knows about. Lucky you, I'm feeling generous today."

Her voice dropped to a whisper, conspiratorial and foreboding. "I'll even make it easy for you."

She knelt, tracing intricate symbols on the ground, her finger leaving a faint red glow in its wake.

Once complete, the sigil pulsed with a crimson light, and she stepped onto it, sitting cross-legged in a mockery of serenity.

"Well?" she said, waving him forward. "Don't keep me waiting."

Anos's eyes flared briefly as he analyzed the circle. Its purpose was clear—to transport his soul directly to her domain. Yet, before stepping onto the circle, he turned his attention to Sloth.

With a flicker of his eyes, inside, the great dragon Ddraig loomed over him, his sorrowful expression radiating an ancient, simmering rage.

"Ddraig," Anos said, his voice firm. "Do you still desire freedom?"

The dragon's eyes burned with a renewed purpose, and Anos nodded.

The Boosted Gear materialized in his hand. With a single spell, cracks splintered across its surface until it shattered, leaving only the emerald gem.

It floated to Anos, who crushed it in his palm, revealing Ddraig's fiery red soul.

Sloth's eyes widened in panic as Anos summoned a source, placing Ddraig's soul within it.

The source entered Issei's chest, and Sloth twitched violently before falling unconscious.

Within the soulscape, Sloth found himself face to face with Ddraig, whose presence filled the void.

"You thought you could take my host without consequence," Ddraig rumbled, his voice a low growl. "But now, you'll pay for your arrogance."

Outside, Anos stepped onto the circle. He paused briefly, reaching out telepathically to Ophis.

Anos voice, steady and resolute, echoed in his mind. "Do what you must. They are in your hands."

"I will keep them safe," she vowed.

Anos's lips curled into a faint, grim smile. He sat on the circle, mirroring Death's pose, his eyes burning with resolve.

The sigil ignited, a blinding light engulfing them both. As the magic pulled them into Death's realm, a foreboding silence filled the void they left behind.

Anos opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the strange scene before him.

To his surprise, there stood two versions of Mittelt—one with her usual blonde hair, the other with hair of a deep golden hue that shimmered unnaturally under the dull light.

Both of them stared at him with equally confused and startled expressions.

The contrast between them was stark, but there was something unsettling about the golden-haired one. The suspicion in Anos's eyes deepened.

"You are her clone, I presume?" Anos asked coolly, his voice laced with an edge of quiet authority.

The golden-haired Mittelt's hands flew to her chest in disbelief, her eyes wide with shock.

"I'm free… I can't believe it! Why would she release me, though? It makes no sense."

She sounded almost too confused for someone who had just gained their freedom, her voice trembling with the uncertainty of someone who had been locked away for far too long.

Mittelt, let out a victorious scream, her voice high-pitched with a mix of relief and joy. "Ahhh... She's out of me! I'm free!" Her hands lifted to the sky, as if celebrating a long-awaited escape from a suffocating prison.

However, the clone seemed far less thrilled. With an exaggerated sigh, she folded her arms across her chest. "If you think this is a victory, you're mistaken. I've grown... fond of my new dwelling."

Anos raised an eyebrow at her words but shifted his focus to the surrounding environment.

The strange, endless stone path stretched before them, flanked by nothingness that extended both behind and ahead.

The air here felt thick, and oppressive, as though this place was less of a location and more of a cage—one that twisted reality around it. Something was deeply wrong with this place.

"Do you know where we are?" Anos asked, his voice taking on an edge of command as he directed the question toward the clone. He didn't trust his instincts about this place. It felt off—too still, too quiet.

The clone glanced around, her eyes narrowing as she took in the endless stone path.

After a pause, she spoke, her voice tinged with cold certainty. "I do not know its exact name... but I can tell you this much—this is a prison."

The words came with a quiet, unsettling finality, as if she had already resigned herself to that truth long ago.

Mittelt, still beaming with her newfound freedom, peered over the edge of the path. "Yeah, this place doesn't exactly scream 'paradise,'" she added, a grimace tugging at her lips. "It's cold, lifeless… definitely not welcoming."

Anos nodded, his expression unreadable. He could feel it too.

The air was thick with the remnants of countless lost souls, all trapped in this strange place. He turned toward the clone, his narrowed eyes now glowing with barely contained power.

Without warning, Anos extended his hand, his fingertips beginning to glow with an eerie black light, like the very essence of destruction itself.

The clone's eyes widened in alarm, and before she could react, Anos lifted her off the ground effortlessly, his grip tightening around her throat. Her body floated, suspended by his will alone.

"Now that you're out of Mittelt," Anos began, his voice darkening, "I see no reason to keep you alive." The pressure around the Clone's neck intensified, his words carrying the weight of a promise—the end of her existence.

For a moment, the clone struggled in the iron-tight grip, but as Anos's magic began to crush her soul, Mittelt felt an unexpected stir in her chest.

She wasn't sure why, but something inside her made her hesitate. The clone—despite everything—didn't deserve this... did she?

She had been nothing more than a parasite, clinging to her soul for so long, but Mittelt knew what it was like to be trapped, to be a prisoner of someone else's design plus the Clone did save her life when she had the opportunity to steal her soul.

Just as Mittelt was about to speak, to ask Anos to reconsider, the clone's face contorted in agony, twisting into a grotesque, pain-filled smile.

"If you go any further... you'll kill this clone," she choked out, her voice strained but laced with a perverse pleasure.

This was no longer the Clone this was Death in control.

Anos's eyes darkened, his grip tightening further. "That's the idea."

But before he could finish the job, Death managed to gasp out a few more words, her voice dripping with venom. "Even if it means your pawn dies?"

Anos froze, his fury intensifying. His eyes narrowed, glowing crimson with the threat of destruction. "You're bluffing," he spat, the words barely audible through the rising tension.

The clone's smirk only grew wider, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. "Their souls are connected, aren't they?" She laughed bitterly, her throat aching with each word, but her twisted glee was palpable.

Anos's eyes widened slightly in realization, and without another word, he dropped Death onto the stone path with a heavy thud.

He stood over her, his expression unreadable, though the faintest hint of calculation flickered in his gaze.

Death rubbed her neck, the pressure from Anos's grip still lingering, cracking her skin slightly. "That's better," she muttered, clearly pleased by her newfound freedom, though the pain was far from gone.

She gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed. "You're in quite a bind now, Demon King."

Anos stood still for a moment, his thoughts swirling, trying to piece together the unexpected turn of events. Just when he was about to speak, the ground beneath their feet trembled, and a massive stone gate rose from the ground with a low, groaning sound.

The gate's surface was etched with strange, unreadable runes, and a faint, ominous pulse emanated from it—something far more ancient than the clone herself.

"Let me guess," Anos said, his voice tinged with skepticism, "This is part of your little plan to steal my soul."

Death's laugh was dark and mocking. "You're not in a position to make demands," she said, her voice dripping with condescension.

"I've been trying to absorb your soul for a long time. You were always so resistant... but now that you're separated from your body, your resistance will be futile."

Her eyes gleamed with sickening delight as she continued, "It doesn't matter how strong your soul is. My father created these gates to trap me. The only way to open them... is for someone to sacrifice their power."

Anos's eyes narrowed, studying the gate before him. His mind raced, weighing Death's words, but one thing was clear—this was no ordinary prison.

She had been trying to absorb his soul the entire time, and now she believed she could do so by making him walk through these gates. Each step would drain his power, piece by piece, until he was no longer capable of resisting.

Anos turned to face Death, his expression one of quiet determination. "So as long as I keep walking through this path, I'll reach you, correct?"

Death's grin widened, her eyes narrowing in triumph. "Precisely," she said, her voice filled with smug satisfaction. "And with each gate you pass through, I'll drain a little more of your power... until I have it all."

Anos didn't flinch. Without a word, he stepped forward, his presence overwhelming the oppressive atmosphere.

As he approached the gate, he could feel it pulling at his very soul, like a whisper of darkness trying to devour him. But Anos ignored the pull, his gaze unwavering.

With a casual flick of his hand, Anos shattered the gate with ease. The stone splintered, the runes cracking apart like fragile glass.

The pieces of the gate disintegrated into nothingness, swallowed by the darkness around them.

Mittelt, who had been silent through the exchange, looked back at the destruction with wide eyes, a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Come on, Mittelt," Anos said softly, his voice calm but filled with a quiet power. "We've wasted enough time here."

Mittelt followed without hesitation, though she couldn't help but glance back once more at the stunned expression on the clone's face.

Death, standing in the aftermath of the shattered gate, looked completely thrown off by Anos's effortless destruction.

Her shock quickly turned into something more dangerous—a slow, creeping smile that spread across her face. As she watched them walk away, her eyes gleamed with a newfound hope.

If Anos continued destroying the gates like this, it wouldn't be long before she was free.

And once she was free... she would have her revenge on the world.

Anos walked down the path in silence, the oppressive atmosphere of this strange dimension pressing in on them. It was Mittelt who finally broke the stillness, her voice gentle but full of concern. "So... how are you doing?"

Anos glanced down at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the dark horizon ahead. His tone was flat, his words carrying a weight of resignation. "Physically fine," he said, but there was a subtle edge to his voice, a hint of something buried deep within.

Mittelt wasn't satisfied with that answer. She leaned in a bit closer, her eyes scanning his face, looking for something more. "And mentally?" Her question hung in the air, pressing gently, but with a touch of urgency.

Anos hesitated, his footsteps faltering for a fraction of a second as he considered her question. He could feel the exhaustion gnawing at him. The weight of everything—seventeen years of time wasted, the destruction of his homeland, the bloodshed of his people—it was all there, simmering beneath the surface. It should have broken anyone else, and for a moment, Anos wondered if it was starting to crack him too.

It wasn't just the physical toll—no, the mental strain was far more significant. The faces of the dead, his friends, his family, flashed before him in a disjointed array, haunting his every step. But then again, he was no ordinary person. No matter the pain, no matter the betrayal, no matter the loss—Anos Voldigoad was not so weak.

"Exhausting," he finally admitted, his voice low, like the soft rumble of distant thunder. "I haven't been this frustrated in a long time." His eyes darkened slightly, a quiet storm raging behind them, but his expression remained emotionless, as though his face was the last fortress against the chaos within.

Mittelt studied him, her gaze softening. She had seen the unyielding Demon King in action, but this side of him... this rawness, this fatigue—it was something new. She didn't know how to fix it, but she wanted to do something. Anything.

"Hey," she said, her voice taking on a gentler, warmer tone. "Could we stop for a moment?"

Anos raised an eyebrow, surprised at the request but stopped nonetheless. His gaze flickered toward her as she stepped closer. He didn't say anything, but the intensity in his eyes softened ever so slightly.

Mittelt stretched up, on tiptoe, her hand gently finding its way to his head. He was far taller than she was, but that didn't stop her from offering what comfort she could. She started rubbing his head, a simple, tender gesture, but one that carried more meaning than words could express.

It was awkward at first, the touch so unexpected, but slowly, the tension in Anos's shoulders began to fade, his muscles unwinding beneath her touch. His eyes closed for a brief moment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax, even if only for a second.

Mittelt watched him as he softened under her hand. There was a quiet, almost serene look on his face now, a fleeting glimpse of the man he could be without the weight of the world pressing on him. For a brief moment, the world seemed to slow, and Mittelt couldn't help but think to herself, I like him better when he's like this.

Their eyes met, and the unspoken connection between them flared for a second, a spark that neither of them had expected. Mittelt's heart skipped a beat, and she quickly yanked her hand away, a blush creeping up her neck. "You seem in better spirits," she stammered, forcing a casual smile. "Make sure you stay that way. You're much more... appealing like this."

Anos let out a soft chuckle, a sound that was rare but genuine. "You know, you can be quite caring when you want to be," he said, his voice surprisingly warm. "Thank you."

His hand briefly rested on her shoulder, an unexpected show of appreciation. He turned, continuing down the path, and Mittelt followed behind, her heart still fluttering from the moment. She glanced at his back, feeling a sense of quiet pride. He was still the Demon King—the overwhelming force of nature who could shatter worlds—but in that brief, vulnerable moment, he had been just... human.

The trio moved in silence for a while longer until they reached the next gate. This one, like the previous, was covered in strange, unreadable runes. Anos stared at it for a moment, his gaze piercing, but his mind was elsewhere. Mittelt, sensing his hesitation, spoke again, her voice light but curious.

"You know, it's been a while since we saw the Clone," she said, her voice breaking the silence again. "So, are you going to destroy the next gate?"

Anos didn't answer immediately, his gaze still locked on the gate in front of them. His mind was whirling, piecing together everything he had sensed.

"I'm considering it," he said after a pause.

Mittelt raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. Considering it? If Anos didn't destroy the gate, it would steal a portion of their power. It seemed simple enough to her, but she noticed the slight tension in Anos's posture. There was something more at play here.

Anos took a slow, deliberate step forward, still staring at the gate. As he did, he noticed something—an odd shift in the air. It wasn't just the gate that was strange. There had been a subtle pulse of power when he destroyed the first one, but this time... it felt different. The power wasn't accumulating in front of them, but to their left. His instincts flared.

As he pieced the puzzle together, the figure of Death reappeared, still inhabiting the clone's body. Her presence was unmistakable, her voice dripping with impatience.

"Stalling for time?" Death's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "If you continue to waste my time, I might accidentally absorb their souls." Her words were laced with a sharp edge, almost mocking, as if she were daring Anos to make his move.

Anos didn't flinch. He just turned his gaze to the side, his eyes narrowing, a quiet realization settling in. "Someone seems to be in a rush," he muttered, his tone colder than before. "Be patient, I'll be there soon."

Anos's senses stretched out, reaching into the depths of the surrounding space. He felt it—the faint traces of magic, of power—but not from the gate. Something was off. Something deeper.

Then he turned, stepping away from the gate and looking to the left. The darkness ahead shifted, revealing something unexpected. "Just as I figured," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Still no blue lights, and no other paths... just this one. This feels like a separate space. Like she's keeping us on this path, guiding us to her."

Mittelt looked at him, perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

Anos let out a soft tsk, his disappointment palpable. "You disappoint me, Mittelt. After all the training I gave you, are you telling me you didn't even find this place suspicious?"

Mittelt blinked, even more confused now, and rolled her eyes. "I'm not the one being cryptic, Anos."

He let out an exaggerated sigh and outstretched his hand, his fingers brushing against the darkness. The moment his hand made contact, Death's arrogant, carefree demeanor vanished entirely.

"Stop," she warned, her voice now tinged with desperation. "If you don't, I will—"

But Anos wasn't in the mood for games. "Erish..." he started, his voice a low growl. Before he could finish the word, the clone dropped to the ground, her body suddenly limp, as though severed from the strings that had held her in place.

"That should give us some space," Anos said, his voice cutting through the tension.

The area around them began to distort, the darkness fading like fog under the warmth of a rising sun.

The stone path vanished, replaced by an eerie new landscape—filled with sparkling blue flames flickering around countless birdcages, each containing souls trapped in their crystalline prison.

Thousands of paths stretched out before them, the illusion finally shattered.

Mittelt stared at the strange new world, her eyes wide with confusion. "What... is going on?"

"We were under an illusion," Anos replied coolly, his gaze scanning the newly revealed landscape. "She was intentionally herding us down this path so we wouldn't consider going anywhere else."

Mittelt felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "But why?"

Anos paused, his eyes narrowing as he sensed something powerful—a presence that was still distant, but unmistakable. "Come, Mittelt. It's about time we met her, don't you think?"

Before Mittelt could respond, Anos leapt to the next platform, his aura flaring as he moved with purpose. Mittelt followed, her heart still racing from the revelation.

But as she glanced back, she noticed that Anos had forgotten about the clone.

Mittelt was carrying the limp body on her back, a quiet determination in her eyes. "What about her?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

Anos paused, glancing back at Mittelt. "She's just a tool," he said flatly, his gaze lingering for a moment, "Being used by Death."

Mittelt hesitated, then shook her head. "I know but...I trust her, and she saved my life," Anos let out an amused hmph sound then snapped his fingers and the Clone started floating off Mittelt's back next to her.

"That should make it easier right," said Anos casting a spell that allowed the Clone to float next to Mittelt so she wouldn't have to carry her.

With that the trio made their way to her and Anos made another observation the closer they got the more of the blue flames they saw.

---

Deep in the lowest levels of the underworld, hidden in a forgotten space of the lowest realm, there stood a figure in black armor that seemed to absorb the very light around it.

He cast an eerie shadow that stretched across the desolate land.

The air was thick with an oppressive stillness as if even time itself dared not move in this place.

The figure, barely distinguishable from the stone around him, emitted a faint blue glow, a soft but haunting radiance that was the only sign of life in this forsaken domain.

He was tall and imposing, his black armor etched with ancient runes that shimmered with cold energy.

His back was adorned with a massive shield, and at his side hung a long, black sword—its blade seemingly forged from the essence of darkness itself.

To the untrained eye, he might have been mistaken for a statue, frozen in place by some ancient magic, but he was far from lifeless.

He had stood in this very position for over a thousand years, never moving an inch.

Time had no meaning to him, nor did the passage of ages, for he was bound by a single, eternal purpose: to protect the most precious thing in all of existence to him.

Hovering just a few feet behind him was a giant crystal, its surface smooth and translucent, pulsing with an ethereal glow.

Inside the crystal was a girl—a golden-haired maiden curled into a ball, her delicate form bathed in a soft, otherworldly light.

She looked almost as if she were asleep, serene and peaceful, but there was a tragic weight to her presence, an aura of sorrow that clung to her like a shroud.

She had once been a being of unimaginable power—but her life had been more tragic than any mortal could ever fathom.

But now she was sealed away by her own choice to escape it all.

"I just want to escape from this reality... and sleep for eternity," she had whispered to him, her voice fragile but resolute.

Those words had echoed in his mind for centuries, a constant refrain, haunting him as he stood guard over her in fear of those who would come a break her out of her self-imposed prison.

He is her protector, her closest companion, and his purpose has remained clear after all these years.

His loyalty to her was absolute, unwavering, and as fierce as the sword he wielded.

He hated how others had treated her—like an object, a plaything, a mere tool to be used and discarded at their whim.

The gods had used her for their own amusement, their own agendas, and when she had finally sought peace in the form of eternal slumber, they had attempted to force her to back to her duties.

Above all, he hated her father—if he could even be called that.

The so-called god who had brought her into existence, only to twist and abuse her for his own gain.

The pain he had inflicted upon her, both physical and emotional, was a wound that could never heal, and it had driven her to seek refuge in this sealed slumber, away from the world that had hurt her.

He didn't know when they would come again—those who sought to break her seal and force her to return to the world above.

But he knew they would come, eventually. They always did.

Every time a soul dared to step into the depths of this domain, and each time, he destroyed them without hesitation.

He would erase their souls, ensuring that no revival would be possible.

No one would disturb his master's slumber, not while he stood watch.

For over a thousand years, he had never moved.

He had not dared to take a step, he had not allowed himself the luxury of even a breath that might disrupt the tranquility surrounding his master's resting form.

But today… today was different.

For the first time in centuries, his crimson eyes flickered open, glowing like molten embers in the dark.

The air around him seemed to tremble as the barrier of silence that had held for so long began to break.

The first gate had been opened.

"So the time has finally come," he whispered to himself, his voice low and guttural, like the sound of distant thunder.

"I know not who you are, but I know why you've come. You seek my master, just as they all have before you."

His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, the black metal seeming to pulse with anticipation.

His thoughts were cold, and calculating, but beneath it all was a singular, burning hatred—a desire to protect her, even at the cost of his own existence.

The countless intruders he had dealt with in the past had been nothing compared to this moment.

His master had suffered long enough. He would not allow anyone to disturb her peace.

---

Anos and Mittelt leapt from platform to platform, their boots barely making a sound as they moved swiftly toward the heart of the strange domain.

Ahead of them, the power they had been tracking throbbed with palpable intensity. Mittelt, growing more impatient with each leap, glanced at Anos.

"So, let me get this straight," she huffed, sweat trickling down her brow. "We're making a detour on our way to Death's domain, and... why, exactly?"

They had been jumping for what felt like an eternity, but Mittelt couldn't gauge whether they were still leagues away or already at the heart of this twisted realm. The oppressive silence only made the distance feel longer.

Anos landed effortlessly on another platform, his expression unreadable as he glanced back at her.

"I doubt Death expected me to break through the gate. She placed us under an illusion, hoping we wouldn't sense her power. But I want to know why," he replied, his voice low and thoughtful.

Mittelt nodded, though a shadow of concern crossed her face as she glanced at the floating clone. The girl had barely stirred, her body still and lifeless like a forgotten puppet. Mittelt hoped she was okay... but she wasn't sure.

Anos was silent for a moment before continuing. "There's another reason. Death rules this domain, which means there might be a way to retrieve Issei and Serafall's souls without confronting her clone directly. But we need to understand her manipulation first."

Mittelt bit her lip but didn't voice her doubts. She trusted Anos, and he always had a plan—one that had, so far, never failed.

"So, what's your plan?" she asked, hopping to the next platform. "You could just ignore Death's tricks and get straight to saving Issei and Serafall's souls. Why bother with this detour?"

Anos shrugged, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes as he sailed to the next path. "I'm not sure. Call it a hunch."

Mittelt sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. "How much farther, then?" she asked, frustration creeping into her tone as she landed beside him.

Anos paused, then pointed toward a giant stone gate ahead. It loomed like a dark sentinel, familiar and foreboding.

The power that pulsed around it was undeniable, and Anos could feel the oppressive force of it pushing against him, trying to siphon a portion of his soul to unlock it.

"Another one," Mittelt muttered, gazing at the gate. "It's just like the one you destroyed before. So what now? It won't open unless you sacrifice something, right?"

Anos didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed as he studied the gate, feeling the pull on his soul. He didn't resist it this time.

Instead, his hand hovered over the floating clone, whose aura was faint and wan. An idea sparked in his mind. He turned to Mittelt, his voice low. "She'll serve as our ticket."

Mittelt's eyes widened, her voice urgent. "Wait—are you seriously going to use her? What if she gets hurt?"

Anos raised a hand, silencing her. "Don't worry. I doubt there will be any lasting effects."

A flicker of hesitation passed over Mittelt's face, but she said nothing more as Anos activated a spell.

The air hummed with energy, a thread of magic weaving around his right arm, then around Mittelt's. The magic pulsed with power, and then, as if drawn by an invisible force, the spell snaked toward the clone.

"I've just connected all of our souls," Anos explained calmly. "If we just offer hers, there's no telling if we'll all pass through together. This way, we're three souls in one. But the only one who will lose a piece of their soul is the clone."

Mittelt nodded, though her confusion remained. She trusted Anos, but this felt risky—yet, if anyone could pull it off, it was him. She looked down at the clone, still floating with her eyes closed, and took a deep breath.

"Okay, I trust you," Mittelt said quietly.

Anos waved his hand, and the clone began to float toward the gate.

As she neared, a soft blue light surrounded her, and her form began to shrink, contracting as if drawn into herself.

The gate rumbled in response, opening with a groan, but the moment it did, the clone stirred, a faint groan escaping her lips.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes in confusion. "What's going on? I feel… strange."

Anos looked at her with an almost casual expression. "Nothing much. We just used you as a tribute to enter."

The clone blinked, her expression shifting to one of realization. "Tribute? What do you mean?"

She looked down at herself, and her face twisted into shock. "Why am I so small?"

Mittelt quickly stepped in to explain, recounting everything from Death's control over her to their current predicament. The clone, now hovering at a child's height, grumbled, floating around them with an irritated look.

"I don't like being used as a lab rat," she muttered, eyes narrowed.

Anos ignored her, striding ahead toward the next gate. "I wasn't going to sacrifice Mittelt, and I'm not inclined to use my own power. Besides, you're a potential threat, and you could be feeding information to the enemy."

The clone made a huffing sound, clearly unimpressed. "I'm starting to understand why I don't like you," she muttered, crossing her arms as she floated behind them.

Then, with a more thoughtful expression, she added, "But I think I get it now. As long as we're here, Death won't be watching us. She doesn't want to attract her attention."

Anos glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Another one of your hunches?"

The clone shrugged nonchalantly. "Believe it or not, it's the truth."

The trio continued until they reached yet another gate—another towering monolith of stone, inscribed with strange, cryptic symbols. The air around it buzzed with strange energy, and Mittelt couldn't help but ask.

Mittelt stared at the symbols, frustration mounting. "What the hell does it say?"

Anos rubbed his chin thoughtfully, scanning the symbols. He recognized many languages, but this one was unfamiliar—a language older than anything he had encountered here.

He glanced at the clone, who was now hovering closer to the gate, her fingers tracing the symbols.

"It's ancient Sumerian," the clone said, her tone confident. "I can translate it, but it's a bit complicated. It roughly says:

'I'm shut from the world, though I see it all,
Silent and still, hidden in my hall.
I hear all the voices, but none reach my ear,
What am I?'

It's a riddle, of sorts."

Mittelt snorted, her frustration boiling over. "Not a hard riddle. The answer's 'prisoner,' right?"

Before Anos could stop her, Mittelt blurted out the answer. But the moment the words left her mouth, something happened. She shrank. The ground seemed to fall away as she fell to the size of a ten-year-old child, her voice rising in shock and outrage.

"What the hell?! I thought that was the answer!"

Anos looked at her with mild amusement. "You probably have to answer in Sumerian," he said, his voice dry.

The clone gave a small, exasperated sigh before turning to the gate. "Sur-zu," she said, and with that, the gate rumbled open, the massive doors sliding apart.

Mittelt glared at Anos as she adjusted to her new, smaller form. "You couldn't have said something sooner?" she demanded, her voice high-pitched with frustration.

Anos gave her a rare, genuine smirk. "It wasn't my fault. I didn't know you were going to rush in like that."

Mittelt stared at herself in disbelief, her hands on her now tiny hips. "This isn't funny, Anos! Look at me—I'm like a little kid!"

Anos turned, heading toward the now open gate, his voice cool. "Don't worry. I'm sure it isn't permanent."

Mittelt sighed, her new, smaller body feeling like a strange cage. "It better not be."

The gate creaked open, a blinding white light pouring through, its brilliance both inviting and enigmatic.

As they crossed the threshold, the world around them seemed to shimmer, shifting into something altogether unfamiliar yet profoundly serene.

They found themselves standing in a vast meadow, the soft breeze carrying the scent of fresh earth and wildflowers.

The sky above was a stunning shade of clear blue, dotted only by the faintest clouds, floating lazily as if in perfect harmony with the land below.

The scenery felt almost unreal in its beauty like the world itself had been painted with a divine brush.

The air was rich with life and energy, yet strangely silent, as if the very essence of this place was holding its breath.

Mittelt knelt, her fingers brushing gently against the vibrant blades of grass that seemed to spring to life beneath her touch.

"It feels so real…" she murmured, almost as if trying to reassure herself.

"Do you think we got transported somewhere?" she asked, standing back up, her eyes wide with wonder as she surveyed the meadow.

Anos didn't immediately respond, his sharp senses taking in every detail of the surroundings.

His gaze drifted across the rolling hills, the radiant flowers, and the bright sunlight filtering through the clouds.

It felt real—too real. But there was something off about it, something that tugged at the back of his mind, reminding him of the dreamlike space he had once visited during his encounter with death.

"In a sense, it probably was," he finally said, his voice calm yet filled with an undercurrent of suspicion.

"This place… it's not truly here. It's not physical. This is more like a dream space. I've encountered something similar before."

Mittelt blinked at his words as if considering them for a moment before shaking her head. "So, this is all an illusion?"

Before Anos could respond, a sound caught their attention—a soft, melodious laughter that seemed to echo through the meadow like the song of a carefree spirit.

They turned to see a girl with golden hair, dancing through the air with an elegance that defied gravity.

She leapt and spun, her laughter blending with the wind, her movements as free as the sky itself.

"That's… Ereshkigal," Anos said, his voice suddenly laced with recognition.

There was no mistaking it.

The girl, though younger, was unmistakably the Goddess of the Underworld, her blue and golden eyes shimmering with an ethereal light that only she possessed.

Ereshkigal was dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress, adorned with golden earrings in the shape of the infinity symbol, a crown of blackish-red resting lightly on her head.

The moment they saw her, Anos immediately noticed the sharp, almost regal presence she radiated, even in her carefree state.

But what truly stood out was her golden eye, which gleamed brightly as she danced through the meadow.

It was the same golden eye she had received from her father in the throne room—an eye that granted her dominion over souls, a power that few could rival.

Ereshkigal's gaze flickered towards them for a brief moment as she twirled in midair, her laughter turning into a playful shout.

"Come on, Namtaru!" she called, her voice light and full of joy. "You're too slow!"

Anos and Mittelt turned to see a figure approaching—Namtaru, the ever-loyal attendant who had once served her in the depths of the Underworld.

He was dressed in a black butler suit, his sleek shoes clicking against the ground as he chased after her.

His short black hair was ruffled from running, and his red eyes glowed softly as he moved.

"I'm coming, my lady!" Namtaru called back, his tone both amused and breathless.

The two watched as Namtaru finally caught up to Ereshkigal, his face flushed from the exertion but wearing a small, fond smile.

"I've never played in a meadow before," Ereshkigal said, grinning widely as she floated above him. "I thought coming down here would be scary, but I'm having the time of my life. I don't know why Sister was worried."

Namtaru, still catching his breath, nodded with a reassuring smile. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, your Majesty," he said, his voice tinged with a note of concern.

"I was worried for a while, but it seems I was mistaken."

Ereshkigal chuckled, floating down to pat Namtaru's head affectionately.

"I'm fine, Namtaru," she said with a gentle smile. "I came here of my own volition, remember? This is my choice."

But just as she finished speaking, the sky above them began to shift. Blue flames started to descend from the heavens, glowing brightly like a thousand falling stars. Ereshkigal's golden eyes gleamed as she raised both her hands, an eager smile spreading across her face.

"Look," she said, her voice full of excitement, "they're finally here! And so many of them!"

The flames floated down, like souls descending from the heavens, their light filling the meadow with a soft, otherworldly glow.

Ereshkigal's hands reached out to catch one of the flames, which hovered above her palm like a tiny, flickering star.

As her golden eye flickered, she absorbed the flame into her being, her smile turning serene as she whispered, "Awwee, you had such a bliss-filled life… I wish I could have had something similar."

Namtaru, standing by her side, watched her with a somber expression, his eyes darkening with sorrow. "Master…"

"It's fine," Ereshkigal said, her voice gentle but firm.

"This is the life I chose. I am the only one who can guide these souls to rest. No one else can do it for them."

The memory, however, was already beginning to fade—flickering like a candle flame in the wind.

The vibrant colors of the meadow started to lose their brilliance, the once-clear sky slowly dissolving into a haze. The laughter, the playfulness of Ereshkigal, all of it began to blur, as if it was being swallowed by a dark fog.

Mittelt blinked, looking around in confusion. "Was that… a memory? Or something else?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

Anos gave a thoughtful nod.

"Seems like it was. I've seen something similar when I first came here. But… I wonder if there's some deeper meaning behind it. The nature of the souls Ereshkigal is guiding, the playful innocence she has in this place—it all feels… familiar somehow."

Mittelt frowned, clearly unsettled. "But why would she be so carefree in that memory, after everything she's been through?"

Anos' gaze shifted to the figure of the Clone, who had been quietly standing off to the side, her expression distant. She hadn't spoken during the entire memory. Both Anos and Mittelt looked at her, sensing that her reaction to the memory was different from theirs.

The Clone blinked, startled, as if she had just realized they were watching her.

"Did you guys say something? Sorry, I wasn't listening," she said quickly, her voice carrying a slightly defensive edge as she shifted her gaze between the two.

Anos raised an eyebrow. "What are your thoughts on the memory we just saw?"

The Clone rubbed the back of her head, her expression nonchalant as she dismissed the memory. "I don't know what you want me to say. It's just the foolish dream of a child. In my opinion, you should pay it no mind."

Anos frowned slightly, his gaze narrowing. "Foolish dream…" he muttered, though something was nagging at the back of his mind.

The Clone's words were odd, too odd, and he couldn't help but feel there was more to her statement than she was letting on.

For the first time, he questioned if the Clone even knew the full extent of what she had just said, or if, perhaps, she was deliberately playing the part of someone ignorant of the truth.

But as the memory faded entirely, replaced by the endless abyss of what lay beyond the illusion, one thing was certain.

This realm hiding might be hiding more than he had first thought.

---

The group then made their way to the next gate and like the last, it had a riddle that said.

"The gods look upon her, and fear grips their hearts, for she is an abomination, chained and locked away.

Her beauty is a lie, her grace a cruel illusion; a whispered horror fueling their burning hatred.

Her name is a curse, her touch brings no peace; she dwells in a prison where all hope withers. What is she?"

The Clone, a mere fragment of a lost soul, let out a shuddering sigh.

The words resonated deep within her fractured being, a phantom ache blooming in her chest.

Tears threatened to spill, but instead, a cold, furious rage ignited within her.

"Those bastards," she whispered, the words laced with venom, "I'm glad they're all dead."

Mittelt, ever the pragmatist, raised a questioning eyebrow. "This is… different," she mused. "The last riddle spoke of imprisonment. This speaks of fear—a primal, visceral dread."

The Clone's anger flared, a blinding inferno consuming her.

Her eyes widened, fists clenched until her knuckles bled.

She didn't understand the wellspring of this fury, this all-consuming hatred.

Her memories were gone, stolen by her original, yet the rage burned in her very soul, a searing brand of injustice she couldn't comprehend.

It threatened to consume her, to tear her apart from the inside, leaving only a burning need for retribution—for sins she couldn't even remember committing.

Mittelt reached out, her hand hesitant on the Clone's shoulder. "Hey, are you—"

The Clone snapped her head around, eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"What? Do you think I'm a monster? I'm not! Why do you all keep treating me like one?!" Mittelt recoiled, startled by the raw, unleashed fury. "I—I didn't…" she stammered.

"I just want to be accepted," the Clone cried, the words choked with unshed tears and desperation.

"Seen as one of you… but why? WHY am I condemned for a power I never chose?" Her eyes glowed with an angry red light, the tears trapped behind an unyielding wall of pain.

Anos remained silent, leaving the delicate task of soothing the Clone to Mittelt. "Hey, hey," Mittelt began, her voice soft and reassuring. "I don't… I don't see you that way."

Mittelt hesitated. Could she truly call the Clone her friend? The Clone, stripped of her past, was a different person—transformed by their shared journey, by the memories she'd witnessed.

Looking into the Clone's fiery gaze, Mittelt saw the hate, the profound pain, but beneath it, a desperate, childlike plea for acceptance.

A fragile soul yearning to be seen, not as the monster in the riddle, but as something worthy of love and belonging.

"Yes, you're my friend," Mittelt said, her voice firm and unwavering.

"How could I ever see you as anything else?" She pulled the Clone into a hug, the unexpected warmth a balm to the Clone's raging heart.

The Clone froze, then slowly relaxed, the shock giving way to a hesitant peace.

"I've seen monsters," Mittelt whispered, pulling back slightly, a teasing wink directed at Anos, "and trust me, you're not one. If anything, Anos is more monstrous than you could ever be!"

Anos, finally breaking his silence, approached them.

"Mittelt's right," he said, his voice devoid of his usual playful banter, "though partially. I may not consider you a friend… yet. But Mittelt's judgment is sound. If she trusts you, then so will I." He gently rubbed the Clone's head.

The Clone's rage began to ebb, replaced by a wave of something she hadn't felt in a lifetime: acceptance.

The words she'd craved—perhaps the words her original self had yearned for—had finally been spoken.

She blinked away the remnants of her fury, turning to the gate. "Ūm-nu," she translated, the Sumerian word for "monster," echoing the riddle's cruel judgment.

As before, the gate shimmered with light, slowly opening to reveal the path ahead. The trio stepped forward, hope flickering, fragile but undeniable, in the wake of the storm.

Anos exhaled softly, turning to Mittelt. "Stay out here with her," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "This won't take long. If it's like the last memory, it'll end once I've seen what's inside."

Mittelt glanced at the trembling Clone, whose fear seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

"Sure," she replied, her tone uncertain but resolute. She took the Clone's hand, gently leading her away as Anos turned back to the massive stone doors.

As he pushed the doors open, a heavy wave of unease rolled over him.

Inside, the throne room of Anu, the ruler of the Mesopotamian pantheon, was just as he remembered—ornate, golden, and suffocating in its grandeur.

The room teemed with gods, their faces alight with apparent joy and reverence. At the foot of the towering throne knelt Ereshkigal, her head bowed as voices filled the chamber.

"Congratulations, Lady Ereshkigal!"
"With your power, we will surpass all others!"
"She is truly magnificent!"
"I wish I had abilities like hers."

Anos narrowed his eyes, the scene gnawing at him. This wasn't what the riddles or the Clone's readings had foretold.

The memory painted Ereshkigal as adored, celebrated—not feared as a monster. Yet something about the image felt wrong, the cheerful faces strained, almost grotesque.

Then, for a split second, the memory rippled. The gods' smiles twisted into sneers, their joyous voices replaced by angry shouts, before snapping back into their jubilant facade.

"Yes, my daughter is the finest of all!" Anu boomed, his pride echoing through the room. But the illusion was already crumbling.

Anos felt a surge of anger as the memory fractured, revealing its true form. The throne room's grandeur decayed into a place of cruelty, and the voices turned venomous.

"Lord Anu, you must deal with her!"
"She could destroy us all!"
"That creature is a threat to the pantheon!"
"Seal her away or kill her before it's too late!"

Ereshkigal was no longer kneeling in reverence but lying broken at her father's feet.

Her once-pristine form was battered and bloodied, her leg twisted unnaturally as she struggled to rise. "Please… I didn't mean to," she sobbed, her voice trembling. "I only wanted to help in the war…"

"Look, she's getting up!" one of the gods shouted. "Someone stop her!"

A lightning bolt cracked through the air, striking Ereshkigal and sending her crumpling back to the ground. "Please, I'll be good," she whispered, trying to sit up, her golden eyes clouded with desperation.

A spear flew through the air, piercing her stomach and pinning her to the ground. Blood pooled beneath her as she choked out a scream.

"Such insolence," Anu growled, rising from his throne. His hand extended, and the spear vanished from Ereshkigal's body, only to reappear in his grasp.

"Why can't you be like your sister?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You dare beg for forgiveness after this disgrace?"

"I… I only wanted to be useful… like Ishtar," she gasped, clutching at her wounds as they began to heal.

"Like Ishtar?" Anu's laugh was cold and cutting. "Do not be absurd. Ishtar doesn't cause me trouble. She wields her power with control, unlike you."

Ereshkigal shook violently, tears streaming down her face. "The souls… the humans' souls… They're filled with such hatred, such despair. I feel their corruption consuming me…"

Anu's eyes burned with cold fury. "A mistake," he muttered. For a brief moment, hope flickered in Ereshkigal's gaze—perhaps her father saw reason. But that hope was a cruel mirage.

"I made a mistake treating you as a daughter," he continued. "My daughters are useful. You, however, are a broken tool in need of fixing."

Ereshkigal's golden eye flashed as Anu's own gaze darkened. Her scream tore through the hall, raw and agonizing, as she clawed at her head. "Please, Father, no… I'll do anything! Please! Daddy, stop—stop, I beg you!"

Her cries grew more desperate as Anu's power overwhelmed her. "How dare she defy her father!" one god hissed.
"She truly is a monster," another spat.
"Lock her away! Let her absorb the souls—it's all she's good for."

Ereshkigal's body convulsed violently before going limp. Slowly, she rose to her feet, her golden eyes now dull and lifeless.

"Finally," Anu said, his voice devoid of warmth. "It is fortunate I placed that control upon you. Were you stronger, even I might not be able to subdue you?

Now, go. Collect the souls of the dead and make them ours."

Ereshkigal walked forward like a specter, her feet carrying her through Anos as though he were not there. The memory dissolved into mist, leaving Anos standing once more in the stillness of Ereshkigal's domain.

The weight of what he'd seen pressed heavily on him. Anos clenched his fists, fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. She had begged, pleaded for mercy, yet no one—not even her father—had listened. To them, she was nothing but a tool, a disposable object.

Anos turned to find Mittelt and the Clone nearby. Mittelt had her hands over the Clone's ears, though it was clear the effort had been futile. The Clone trembled, her face pale and her eyes wide with terror.

"How much did she hear?" Anos asked quietly, his voice laced with concern.

"Too much," Mittelt replied, her own composure shaken. "Her screams… they were deafening."

Anos sighed, looking at the Clone's hollow, haunted expression. He would allow them all to rest before facing the next gate. The weight of Ereshkigal's tragedy was not easily borne, and even he felt the strain of it.

Yet as he gazed at the final gate, its riddle etched in stone, he knew the worst was yet to come.

After the events of that gate they learned more of Ereshkigal's tragic backstory and everything they learned and saw at the first gates was nothing compared to following gates.

The Clone's mental state also deteriorated at a rapid rate and Anos used to make to help her relax because there were multiple times when she had a mental breakdown.

Now they stood before the finale gate and it said:

"In a realm where the stars softly gleam, I dance with the souls in a peaceful dream.

No sorrow, no fear, just rest and delight, Where time takes a pause, and all is right.

Sister of the sky, with a heart full of grace, Who am I, the queen of this serene place?"

"Do you need the answer," Anos shook his head.

"No need I can guess the answer," Anos then walked up the gate and spoke, "Ereshkigal," the gate slowly opened revealing a white light causing the three to squint their eyes.

---

As the white light bathed them, the gate creaked open with a solemn grandeur, revealing a pathway that shimmered with starlight.

Anos stepped forward confidently, his aura calm yet alert, while Mittelt and the Clone clung to his shoulders, their tiny forms jittery with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

They were small because of incorrectly answering the riddles.

The path beyond the gate was ethereal, paved with gleaming stones that seemed to pulse faintly with a rhythm, almost like a heartbeat.

The air was filled with a soft hum, and above them, the sky stretched infinitely, scattered with constellations that shifted and danced in patterns incomprehensible yet mesmerizing.

As they moved forward, the Clone clutched Anos's collar tightly, her hollow eyes flickering with both fear and curiosity.

"I-Is this... where her dream resides?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Mittelt, trying to mask her unease with humor, crossed her arms. "Well, it's definitely prettier than all the other nightmare-fuel memories. I just hope nothing jumps out at us this time."

Anos remained silent, his eyes scanning the path ahead.

His sharp instincts told him that this serenity wasn't to be trusted entirely.

The trials of the past gates had taught him that appearances could be deceiving.

Still, there was an undeniable peace here, one that felt deliberate, as though it were designed to calm and disarm.

At the end of the path stood a grand archway, woven from what appeared to be starlight and shadows.

Beyond it lay a vast, tranquil field under a sky that seemed to ripple with colors.

In the center of the field was a tall, regal figure standing beside a massive, still lake that reflected the cosmos above.

Ereshkigal.

She turned as they approached, her golden eyes warm yet heavy with the weight of lifetimes.

Her black and gold robes flowed like liquid night, and her presence was both commanding and gentle.

She smiled faintly, her expression softening as she regarded Anos and the two fairy-sized companions perched on his shoulders.

"You've made it," Ereshkigal said, her voice carrying a soothing resonance. "travelers I welcome you."

Anos came to a stop a short distance from her, his gaze steady. "Is this truly your dream, or is it just another memory?" he asked.

Ereshkigal chuckled lightly, though there was no humor in it. "This is no memory. I am just something Ereshkigal wishes she could be."

Anos raised an eyebrow, "I see you are confused, I am just like that one one. No more than a fragment of the original.

I was created from fabricated heartfelt memories, untainted by the corruption or not abused."

The Clone, still visibly shaken, whispered, "Why… why show this to us after everything? After all the suffering we've seen?"

Ereshkigal's gaze softened as she looked at the Clone, her expression filled with a quiet understanding.

"Because you needed to see the whole truth. Even in the depths of despair, there is a part of me that held on to hope, to the idea of something better.

These dreams or delusions are what kept me alive, even now as I sleep."

Mittelt, perched on Anos's shoulder, narrowed her eyes. "So, what's the catch? You're not just going to let us walk out of here after all that, are you?"

Ereshkigal's smile turned wistful. "The final trial is not for me to impose on you but for someone else. My job only is to show you my past in the hope you won't try to wake me."

The lake behind her began to ripple, its surface glowing brighter as the constellations above seemed to align.

"This place is simply a junction," she continued. "the one on the left takes you back to the human world, the middle gate takes you back to the first and this one lets you continue further down."

As she spoke, the glowing lake began to shift, its waters rising and swirling until they formed three separate mirrors, each hovering in the air. One faced Anos, another faced Mittelt, and the last faced the Clone.

Anos's reflection in his mirror was unyielding, but his image was surrounded by shadows of countless battles and lives lost.

The mirror seemed to pulse, inviting him to confront the weight of his power and the consequences of his decisions.

Ereshkigal chuckled she had been watching Anos's gaze closely ever since she explained the three mirrors but his gaze never shifted from the one that took him to her original, "has anyone ever gown before,"

Ereshkigal, "Yes plenty but none have awakened me," "I'm guessing that is due to some guardian protecting you," she nodded.

Anos stepped forward, his crimson eyes fixed on his reflection in the center mirror, "Is there no one way to talk this out like with you," "No is my one and only friend he is ready to die to make sure I enjoy my dreams."

"We'll see if this guardian is as difficult as you say because I have my own friends who I need to save" he muttered, his voice firm yet laced with determination.

Mittelt gulped, trying to put on a brave face. "Well, we come this far to fail now," she said, though her voice wavered.

The Clone said nothing, her gaze fixed on the fractured on mirror, her trembling hands betraying her fear.

---

Epilogue 1: Trouble in Paradise

Dulio was hiding in a vent, concealing his presence as he watched an interesting interaction involving the angel in charge of communications for all of Heaven.

"Amazingly, even the vents are shiny," Dulio thought, snacking on a banana as he continued his investigation into possible traitors in Heaven.

All communications in Heaven passed through here before being sent to the angel the message was meant for.

Dulio's investigation had led him to crawl through the vents, where he had detected a distress signal coming from the Underworld.

Rather than accepting the call, the angel had ignored it. Normally, transmissions like these were sent directly to Michael, not blocked.

But then, more communication calls came in.

"Seems it's happening," said the angel.

Dulio couldn't tell who was calling, but he did know someone had been trying to contact Heaven, and they were ignoring the calls.

This wasn't entirely unusual—many people tried contacting Heaven—but it was strange because they weren't even checking who was calling.

With the Divine Council meeting approaching, many were trying to reach the Seraphs, and it would be impossible to answer them all.

However, as far as he knew, Michael and the other Seraphs weren't ignoring calls, especially those from the Underworld, since the allied forces were lying in wait for a surprise attack.

So, this was still odd, particularly since they hadn't contacted any of the forces yet.

Dulio tried to maneuver in the vents to get a better view of the monitor to see who was calling, but he couldn't get the right angle.

He would have left a while ago, but their actions were very suspicious, so he decided to stay and report back to Michael.

Suddenly, alarms started blaring as red lights flashed throughout the area, and the angels below began scrambling.

"What is this alarm?"

"I don't know. I've never seen it before," another angel replied.

Dulio didn't know what the alarm was either; he hadn't been in Heaven long enough to learn about all the alarms.

A communication circle formed next to his ear.

"Dulio, where are you?" It was Michael, and he sounded frantic.

"Following a lead, sir. Is everything alright?"

"Come to the Throne of Heaven."

Dulio shot his head up, banging it against the ceiling. Luckily, the alarms were loud enough to mask the noise, so no one heard it.

He was also surprised because the Throne of Heaven was only for the Seraphs and high-ranking angels.

Dulio was Michael's first brave saint, but he was still new, especially since he was a reincarnation.

"Is that alright, sir? I'm only a reincarnation, so I think..."

"Now is not the time. Come at once. We are preparing a strike force. You will be deploying with Gabriel and other angels to the Underworld."

"Yes, sir. I'm on the way."

Without further protest, Dulio teleported to the gates of the Throne of Heaven. Only Seraphs had the authority and ability to teleport directly to the Throne.

Dulio approached the golden gates, where two angels stood guard.

"Dulio, you're here. Lord Michael told us you would be arriving. Please hurry inside."

Dulio nodded and entered. Inside, the alarms were still blaring as Michael sat on the throne, surrounded by a magical projection of all the Longinus Sacred Gears, all except for the Boosted Gear.

Gabriel walked up to Dulio, followed by Camael and about fifty members of the Heavenly Host.

"This must be serious if we're sending in the Heavenly Host. What's with all the alarms? Heaven's in an uproar."

Gabriel nodded.

"Yes, the Boosted Gear has been destroyed."

Dulio yelped in surprise.

"Excuse me? Destroyed? That should be impossible."

Gabriel nodded. "It should be. The Longinus-class Sacred Gears are nearly indestructible, especially since most contain sentient beings. Michael has triple-checked the system, and it's no longer in there. Plus, we haven't been able to contact the Devils to confirm. If it's true, that means they are under attack."

Dulio thought back to when he had been spying on the angels, and now it all clicked. They were hiding the fact that the devils were in trouble, probably blocking both incoming and outgoing calls to keep Heaven in the dark.

"Lady Gabriel, I would send someone to the communications center. They're blocking all incoming and outgoing calls, likely trying to keep Heaven from learning what's happening."

Without questioning Dulio's reasoning, Gabriel snapped her fingers, and three of the fifty angels behind her rushed to the communications center to apprehend the culprits.

Gabriel was upset that some of her fellow angels were hiding a possible invasion of the Underworld when they were supposed to be allies.

A large golden magic circle appeared beneath them.

"Prepare yourselves. We're teleporting to the location of the allied army. We don't know the condition of the forces, so be ready for a fight as soon as we arrive."

They all nodded and teleported to the location of the task force, ready to support their allies.

Epilogue 2: Another Surprise Attack!

Grigori was the home of the Fallen Angels, resembling a large city surrounded by three walls.

The outermost wall was the farm area, inside the second wall was the common area where the civilian populace lived, and the innermost wall housed the military and science sectors, resembling a techno-city.

Outside the three walls, there were small towns where people lived in small groups, mostly former Fallen Angels.

Some of these communities resembled small cities. In terms of size, Grigori and its surrounding towns were roughly as large as Australia.

Initially, it was much larger around the size of Asia, but during the Great War, it had been reduced to roughly the size of Australia, with numerous cities outside Grigori.

After the Great War, all the other cities were destroyed, and this was where all the Fallen Angels now resided.

The city was encased in multiple-layered barriers designed to protect the city, track personnel entering and exiting and perform various other functions.

Currently, Baraqiel has teleported to one of his many homes within Grigori. The one he found himself in now was located in the military district.

He immediately flew out of the window and made his way to the communications center below.

"Hello, Lord Baraqiel, you're back," a Fallen Angel said.

"Sound the alarm and ready our troops for battle," Baraqiel ordered the Fallen Angel in charge of communications for all of Grigori.

"Uhhh... excuse—"

Everyone was startled by Baraqiel's abrupt entrance, especially since he was supposed to be guarding Athena and Artemis with Persia.

"This is not the time," Baraqiel said. But he was cut off as alarms suddenly started blaring. He looked at the Fallen Angel sitting at the controls, who hadn't yet hit the alarm switch.

Suddenly, the entire building shook, knocking Baraqiel to the ground.

"Alarm Black: Enemy Invasion… Alarm Black: Enemy Invasion," the alarm blared.

This was one of the alarms that the guards stationed at the walls could activate, bypassing the need to pass information to the communications center in case communication lines were down.

Suddenly, numerous calls began flooding in.

"Help! We're under attack!"

"There are too many of them! We need reinforcements!"

"The eastern wall has fallen! They brought down the barriers!"

Hundreds of calls were coming into the communications center.

"Has anyone stated who is invading?" Baraqiel asked, though he already had a suspicion. It might be the Old Satan Faction, but he doubted they had enough personnel to launch a three-point invasion.

"Yes, sir," the woman at the controls gasped in disbelief. "It's... it's the forces of Hades. Over one million troops, including Grim Reapers and monsters. And it seems even more are pouring in."

Suddenly, the building shook again, sending several people to the ground.

"I'm going out," Baraqiel said, "Make sure all troops are routed to push back this invasion."

He flew outside and, although some of the barriers were down, he was relieved that not all of them had fallen.

He headed for the top of the science district, where he saw Shemhazai issuing orders to Penemune, Tamiel, and other cadre members. Some were already flying off to provide support.

"Hey, what's he doing here?" Penemune said, watching Baraqiel approach from the communications center.

"What?" Shemhazai asked, turning to look. Baraqiel landed, nodding at them all.

"I was about to find you. You haven't been answering our calls, but it seems we have our own problems to take care of," Baraqiel said.

Shemhazai cocked his head in confusion. "I haven't received a call since this morning when you told me Athena and Artemis arrived. We haven't heard anything since the Rating Game started."

Baraqiel bit his lip.

This was definitely a planned invasion.

What was the Old Satan Faction doing, working with Hades?

They could be part of the Khaos Brigade, but Hades wasn't a member of the group of gods that had joined.

In fact, Hades despised devils, so it didn't make sense for him to work with them.

Perhaps he was simply taking advantage of the situation with the devils.

---

End Chapter