Chapter 9

  Astaroth's eyes widened in shock as she looked down. An infinity seal glowed beneath her feet. "When did this get here?" she wondered aloud.

  "Right after you impaled me with that cage of yours," Ariel responded, her voice calm despite the chaos.

  "No matter. The cage will soon explode... You're still dead,” Astaroth confidently declared.

  "[Revelations: Eternal Seal]," Ariel chanted.

  Astaroth’s eyes flickered with disbelief. "You can still use mana?"

  "That’s not all. [Psalms: Divine Restoration]."

  In that instant, Ariel’s wounds vanished as if erased by unseen hands, and Astaroth stood rooted in a mix of horror and wonder.

  Ariel clenched her fist as she continued, “That seal is enchanted with [Deuteronomy: Law of the Land]. It drained every last drop of your mana—mana that I’m going to use to kill you.”

  Before Astaroth could protest, a brutal fist collided with her face. The force of the punch was so great that it obliterated her head. Ariel dropped to her knees; her breath ragged. “I…I won. I can’t believe I exhausted all my mana after taking yours,” she whispered, her voice trailing off as she slipped into unconsciousness and the seal’s glow faded into silence.

  Back at the castle, battered walls bore the scars of battle. Azazel knelt on the field, breath ragged and blood dripping from his mouth, while his brother, Azrael, loomed before him with a fist dripping purple blood.

  “What’s the matter, brother? Am I too much for you?” Azrael mocked.

  Azazel forced a bitter chuckle as he pushed himself to his feet. “Even if you win,” he rasped, “my subjects will avenge me. That is the mark of a true king.”

  Azrael’s eyes darkened. “But you’d still be dead. That’s the point. You die, and the fallen angel race ends. Please, brother… don’t make me kill you.”

  “Kill me?” Azazel scoffed and assumed his fighting stance. “You could have been my right hand, yet you choose to fight for those weaklings. Now, you will die with them.”

  Without warning, Azazel lunged, unleashing a flurry of strikes. Azrael parried effortlessly before landing a vicious cross to Azazel’s jaw. Blood spattered across the barren land, fuelling the injured warrior’s rage. He threw a counterpunch, but Azrael deflected it into Azazel’s sternum, forcing him to cough up blood. The sheer force sent him sliding back.

  Fury boiled within him. This is bad my power stone is failing me. Am I really going to lose to my baby brother? Summoning every reserve of mana, Azazel forced his power stone into overdrive. His aura exploded outward in an incandescent shockwave that rippled across the battlefield.

  “I hope you’re ready, little brother. We’re not done,” he declared with a grim grin, despite his bloodied face.

  Yet, Azrael remained unshaken.

  Irritated by his brother’s nonchalance, Azazel roared, “Why can’t you just die already?!” He swung a devastating haymaker, which Azrael deftly dodged. Azrael flipped Azazel over in one swift motion, sending him spinning through the air.

  Before Azazel could regain his footing, Azrael struck with a barrage of blows. In retaliation, a massive wave of fire scorched Azrael’s arm.

  “Didn’t think you’d use your miracle so soon,” Azrael taunted through clenched teeth. “What’s wrong—am I too much for you?” His condescending tone stung.

  Azazel’s fury surged. “This is the second time you’ve mocked me. You’re going to die for that.”

  He activated Charmiel’s ability, intent on forcing Azrael to kill himself. But nothing happened.

  Confusion crept in. How—?

  Azrael had anticipated this trick. Under Samael’s guidance, he’d learned to counter every one of his brother’s abilities. Using his abilities, he nullified Charmiel’s manipulation.

  In a heartbeat, Azrael materialized behind Azazel and drove his fist deep into his brother’s chest.

  “You lose. Now, honour our deal,” he demanded.

  Trembling and desperate, Azazel refused to accept defeat. In a final act of defiance, he transformed his spirit into a bomb and detonated it. The explosion was small yet focused entirely on Azrael.

  Azrael staggered, coughing blood as his soul reeled from the blast. Before he could recover, a surge of energy materialized from the smoke—Azazel emerged, grinning wickedly.

  “How… the hell… are you alive?” Azrael questioned.

  Azazel’s dark laugh filled the air. “Simple. Knowing Samael, he must have given you a cheat sheet on how to beat me. And with this power stone, I’m practically immortal, so I can afford to be reckless to catch you off guard. Any last words?”

  Laughing through the pain, Azrael replied, “You played me … clever.” His eyes burned with unyielding resolve. “I’m not dying today. I made a promise to Samael. I cannot lose.”

  Azazel’s smile broadened. “Impressive resolve. But that won’t save you. Time Blade.” A sword materialized in his hand.

  Azrael countered by summoning his flaming sword. The final duel had begun. They stood in tense silence as the battlefield itself held its breath, each studying the other for the slightest opening. In a fight where one mistake meant death, patience was everything.

  The duel erupted. Azrael struck first, defying the notion that the one who initiated an attack was doomed. Azazel, assuming recklessness from his brother, anticipated a high-speed slash and raised his sword, swinging it with all his might. But at the last moment, Azrael dodged and countered with a swift thrust.

  Azazel smirked. He had prepared for this as well. Using his secret technique, [Reverse Swallow], he altered his sword’s trajectory mid-swing. The blade bounced off the ground, hurtling toward Azrael with even greater speed. Yet, to his shock, Azrael dodged again.

  “What the—? No matter, I’ll do it again!” Azazel muttered, frustration lacing his voice.

  This time, his sword ricocheted through the air in a devastating arc. In a single, decisive stroke, Azrael countered. Azazel’s head and arms were severed. For a fleeting moment, his severed head smirked—only to trigger another explosion. But Azrael was ready.

  “[Psalms: God’s Protection],” he whispered, invoking a divine shield that absorbed the blast.

  Azrael had anticipated every move, using [Proverbs: The Lord’s Wisdom] to glimpse the future and counter each of Azazel’s tricks.

  “Why won’t you just die?!” Azazel roared, rage spiralling out of control.

  With a smirk, Azrael replied, “I told you… I can’t lose.”

  In one final surge, Azazel unfurled his four massive wings, warping the very fabric of reality with his aura. “I was saving this for Samael—but it seems you’ll have to do.”

  “Getting serious, huh? I’ll do the same.” Azrael spread his wings, and a golden halo crowned his head. Both warriors knew there would be no second chances—one strike would decide it all.

  For all his arrogance, Azazel understood the true power of Azrael’s weapon—the Flaming Sword, the so-called Sword of Death. A target struck in the same spot twice would be permanently erased. With grim determination, Azazel aimed for his brother’s hand to disarm him.

  In a cruel twist of fate, his foot landed on an Infinity Seal—a trap. A deafening explosion obliterated his leg in an instant. The seal was layered with cascading enchantments—[Deuteronomy: Curse of Destruction], [Leviticus: Punishment of Sin], and [Numbers: Amplification and Multiplication]—inflicting catastrophic damage on Azazel.

  Through thick smoke, Azrael’s voice rang out in divine command. “[Revelations: Divine Ender—Flaming Sword!]” He swung with all his might, aiming to behead his fallen foe. But as the smoke cleared, horror replaced his confidence—Azazel stood, bare hands clutching the Flaming Sword.

  “Impossible! That attack should have killed you!” Azrael’s voice trembled in disbelief.

  Azazel’s mocking laugh was low and dark. “Oh… you mean the future I showed you? How embarrassing. You really believed you’d won.”

  “This fight isn’t over yet, brother” Azrael roared, channelling every shred of mana into a desperate incantation—“[Exodus, Judges, Numbers, Chronicles, and Leviticus: Transcendence!]” His aura exploded as his sword began to push through Azazel’s grip.

  From the heights above, Metatron nodded approvingly. “Samael, you’ve trained him well. That combination should have shattered any other archangel… yet he endures.”

  Uriel, however, remained silent, a deep unease growing within him. As he watched the battle unfold, doubt crept into his mind. Can I even call myself an archangel? They’re all so powerful… and here I stand, doing nothing. How can I succeed the strongest angel if I can’t even compare to them?

  Samael, noticing his student’s turmoil, sighed. He hated offering words of encouragement, but he knew he had to. “Why do you sulk, student? Because you can’t do what my brethren are doing? If so, your sadness is misplaced. They’ve had aeons of training… and yet, this is all they can achieve? It’s pitiful. You, on the other hand, have done something none of them could… you have become my successor.”

  Uriel’s gaze flickered with doubt. “Why me? Any other archangel would have been a better choice, right?”

  Metatron turned his attention to Samael, curious to hear his response. For a moment, Samael was silent. Metatron considered stepping in, but before he could, Samael answered.

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  “I chose you for your talent,” he said simply. “Like me, you are a fire that never dies, no matter what. You fight even when the odds are hopeless. You have pride in your technique… only fools doubt their skill. And most importantly—you alone could take my grace and survive.”

  Uriel’s eyes widened. His master had never praised him before, and hearing such words lifted his spirits.

  Metatron chuckled. “I’m shocked you actually said something kind to him. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Samael smirked. “Well, I learned from the best. You never complimented me, even when I beat you.”

  Metatron opened his mouth to defend himself, but Samael cut him off. “Don’t worry, I understand why. If I had been praised too soon, I wouldn’t have grown. If I relied only on power, I would have never beaten Azazel.”

  Metatron laughed. “That’s quite the exaggeration.”

  Their brief moment of levity was shattered as the battlefield screen shifted—revealing Jophiel being impaled by Zeref.

  Uriel’s heart clenched. “She’s dying!”

  “Uriel, you need to help her now… she’ll die if you don’t,” Samael urged, his fear of isolation outweighing his concern for defeat. Despite his overwhelming power, he had always felt alone—until comrades like these stood by his side.

  Metatron, however, remained calm. “Samael, we must wait. The element of surprise is all we have. If Uriel acts now, we risk losing our one chance. Do you want all seven to die?”

  “Of course, not…” Samael growled with reluctance and tremble in his voice. “We’ll let it play out.”

  Uriel hesitated. “Are you sure, Master?”

  “No,” Samael admitted quietly. “But I must.”

  Back on the battlefield, Azazel activated the narratives woven into his arm, channelling their power through the stone. Azrael’s sword, which had nearly severed his fingers, halted mid-swing. Seizing the moment, Azazel drove his Time Sword deep into Azrael’s soul, unleashing a wave of destructive energy that sent him hurtling across the field.

  Advancing slowly, Azazel sneered, “It’s over, brother.”

  Yet battered and bleeding, Azrael refused to yield. Clenching his teeth in defiance, he rose once more—a determined grin etched on his face.

  Azazel’s eyebrow arched. “Still clinging to hope? Admirable… but futile. We had a deal: if you lost, I would kill every last archangel. It’s time I made good on that—”

  An explosion cut him off, shockwaves rippling through the realm. Azazel staggered, collapsing to one knee as blood poured from his mouth.

  “Magnificent… even when all seems hopeless, you still strive for victory… entertain me a little longer before you die.” As he rose, a sinking realization struck him—his wound wasn’t healing. Panic seized him as he recognized that his spirit had been erased. For the first time, fear gripped him with a final, desperate imperative: eliminate your brother or die.

  Shaking off the shock, Azazel lunged with every ounce of his remaining power. Dodging Azrael’s counter, he managed to slash across his torso—severing an arm and sending the Flaming Sword tumbling.

  “A final thrust as your move? How boring,” he muttered, his irritation growing as the near-death experience reshaped his view of Azrael as a true threat.

  Azrael, bleeding and teetering on the edge of oblivion, caught the killing blow mid-air. With nothing left to lose, he sacrificed his very spirit, summoning an absurd torrent of mana into one desperate strike. The ensuing explosion engulfed Azazel—but not entirely. Rising once more, Azazel severed Azrael’s remaining arm and plunged his sword into his chest.

  “You’ve made this easy, brother,” Azazel sneered, pushing his sword deeper. His Time Sword pulsed with dark energy. “Now, all I have to do is destroy your soul.”

  At that very moment, Zeref loomed over Jophiel, his overwhelming gravitational force crushing her. Just as he was about to finish her off, he sensed a mysterious figure behind him. As he turned back, his eyes widened as the figure decapitated him before he blacked out.

  Uriel appeared behind Azazel, slashing across his back and halting his execution of Azrael. Azazel whipped around, swinging his blade in retaliation, but Uriel leapt gracefully, driving a fist into his face and sending him hurtling backwards.

  “Samael...? No, it can’t be,” Azazel stammered as he struggled to rise, his gaze snapping to Uriel. “Uriel! I see you’ve had a makeover. That won’t save you and neither would Samael’s sword.”

  Uriel remained silent. The grace bestowed by Samael had transformed him into a pseudo-archangel; his soul now radiated with divine light, as if touched by the Lord Himself.

  Azazel lunged, bringing his sword down in a crushing arc. Uriel countered effortlessly, landing a kick to his gut. Azazel coughed up blood and reeled, only to be struck in the face again. Blow after crushing blow sent him sprawling—a one-sided onslaught. Desperate, Azazel resorted to his [Reverse Swallow] technique, but each attempt was countered as Uriel struck at his pressure points with brutal precision, slowly eroding his spirit.

  “Damn you!” Azazel roared, gathering every scrap of power into his sword and swinging upward in a final gamble—only for his blade to be halted by Uriel’s determined foot.

  Azazel’s mind shattered. “Impossible... Impossible... IMPOSSIBLE!”

  Uriel responded with another crushing punch, sending him flying once more. Azazel flipped mid-air, anchoring himself to the ground as he slid across the battlefield. Desperation clawed at him as he used his ability to tear the earth apart, forming a dome around Uriel.

  For the first time in the battle, Uriel spoke—his words sending a chill straight to Azazel’s soul.

  “[Revelations: Divine Ender—Excalibur.]”

  With that, Uriel swung his sword. The shockwaves obliterated the dome, splitting Azazel’s soul and spirit in a flash of divine retribution.

  Uriel rushed to Azrael’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked, extending a hand and invoking [Psalm: The Lord’s Healing] to mend his wounds. As he healed Azrael, the power stone drifted toward Zeref, seizing his soul and overwriting his spirit—allowing Azazel to incarnate within him.

  “Don’t worry, Zeref, I’ll give you your soul back,” Azazel sneered as his head regenerated.

  Uriel’s focus shifted; alarm etched in his eyes. “It seems Azazel is still alive...”

  Azazel grinned wickedly. “Time for round two, boys. I’m not losing to a fucking angel general.” His sword reappeared, and his aura flared with raw, unbridled power.

  The second round erupted with renewed ferocity. Uriel lunged first, slashing at Azazel, who parried in kind. The very ground trembled as their blades clashed. With Zeref’s soul bolstering him, Azazel transcended his previous limits, levelling the battlefield. Both warriors condensed their blades with mana and clashed again—the impact hurling them apart.

  Azazel exploited Zeref’s ability to generate an immense gravitational field, causing the very earth to shatter beneath them.

  “That monster is unaffected by this? This fight is going to be tougher than I thought.”

  Uriel barely flinching states. “Is that all you’ve got? Pathetic.” Before lunging forward and amplifying his speed with [Ecclesiastes: Divine Speed]. This allowed him to move at an exponential rate. Azazel managed to deflect the high-speed slash with [Reverse Swallow], grazing Uriel’s forehead.

  I dodged that perfectly, yet he nearly took out my eye... Azazel thought. He’s amplifying his attacks with Zeref’s ability. No matter—I’ll adjust accordingly.

  Uriel adapted his style, targeting Azazel’s tendons to thwart his rapid strikes. Sensing this, Azazel retreated briefly for breathing room.

  Gritting his teeth, Azazel cursed under his breath, Due to his attacks, I can’t use my technique anymore. Damn him. Changing his approach, he shifted into a counterattacking stance. As Uriel lunged, Azazel evaded his thrust and then placed a hand on his side. A condensed gravity wave erupted, shattering Uriel’s ribs and severely damaging his lungs.

  Uriel gasped for air as a savage slash tore across his throat. Azazel followed with brutal precision, his strikes dancing around Uriel’s soul. Just as Azazel prepared to deliver the final, decisive blow, Azrael intervened—stabbing Azazel in the throat with his flaming sword and forcing him to retreat.

  “Uriel, are you okay?” Azrael asked, hoisting Uriel to his feet.

  “Yes… be careful. His gravity field slows everything around him,” Uriel managed to say.

  “No matter,” Azrael replied with a smile that belied the pain in his eyes. “We’ll beat him together.”

  Pooling their remaining strength, Uriel and Azrael attacked in a staggered pattern. Each time Azazel adapted, they changed their rhythm, landing multiple hits. Though Azazel countered with [Reverse Swallow] whenever possible, every strike he launched was redirected—leaving him battered and reeling. In a desperate bid, he executed a furious series of Reverse Swallow strikes, but the relentless onslaught of Uriel and Azrael forced him to retreat momentarily.

  The angels pressed their advantage forcing Azazel to counter, as Azazel attacked, Azrael deflected his strike. Smirking, Azazel prepared to use Reverse Swallow again, certain of victory—until Uriel struck at his tendon, halting the attack cold. His sword slipped from Azazel’s grasp. Reaching for it with his left hand, Azrael severed it, slicing through Azazel’s left eye. Roaring in pain, Azazel healed his tendon and lunged for the sword with his right hand—only for Uriel to sever that as well. Cornered, Azazel was struck from opposite sides.

  “[Revelations: Divine Ender—Excalibur.]”

  “[Revelations: Divine Ender—Flaming Sword.]”

  Their ultimate attacks converged, incinerating Azazel’s spirit. But before the flames could fully consume him, he unleashed a super-condensed gravity wave that blasted them apart.

  “Let’s end this, Uriel,” Azrael urged as he pulled his weary ally up.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Uriel responded, his voice resolute.

  They surged forward—but then, a pillar of fire erupted, searing both soul and spirit. Their anguished screams were swallowed by the roar of flames. In that chaotic moment, Azazel seized the opportunity to heal. His wounds knit together as the fire subsided. When the smoke finally cleared, Uriel and Azrael lay on the brink of death.

  Azazel’s voice cut through the silence. “I’ll show you the move I used on Samael.” He retrieved his sword, its blade now aglow with an eerie, otherworldly light. With a sweeping arc, he sent a massive wave of fire toward his adversaries. Uriel and Azrael summoned every last ounce of strength to form a protective shield, their combined magic barely holding back the inferno. The barrier sputtered and exploded, leaving the battlefield shrouded in suffocating smoke.

  When the haze cleared, Azazel’s sword was driven deep into Uriel’s chest while his hand clutched Azrael’s spirit, tearing it from its vessel.

  “I guess this is the end. You two were boring.” Azazel ripped his sword from Uriel and crushed Azrael’s spirit causing him to scream in pain.

  “Killing you alone will be boring I want you to see all your brethren die.”

  Azazel sliced his hand open, blood splattering across the ground. The droplets ignited into blue flames, coalescing into four clones. Astaroth’s, Camiel’s, Dagon’s, and Zeref’s spirits possessed the clones, transforming them into physical forms.

  “What just happened…?” Camiel asked, flexing his newly formed soul.

  “I upgraded you all. You now wield pseudo-power stones—endless mana and the ability to influence minor narratives. Use this power to slaughter the archangels.”

  “Hmph. You improved my soul beyond what you promised,” Zeref grumbled. “But try that again, and I’ll kill you.”

  “Come now, that’s no way to speak to your king,” Astaroth interjected.

  Zeref sighed and flew toward Jophiel, who was still reeling from her injuries.

  From Heaven, Samael’s voice rang out. “Metatron! I have to help my team.”

  “You will do no such thing! You can’t use your full power—it’s suicide,” Metatron protested, trying in vain to hold Samael back.

  “Let me go instead.” Metatron moved to intervene, but Samael stopped him.

  “Going in now is foolish, Teacher. You will die. You are still needed to defeat the Great Beast.”

  “But I can’t let you die,” Metatron sobbed.

  “As a leader, I must risk my life for my team. Even if I fall, they will still have you.”

  Samael’s conviction was unshakable. Realizing he could not argue further, Metatron relented. The two exchanged a brief fist bump and final goodbyes.

  As the archangels braced for death at the hands of the fallen generals, Samael struck them all down in an instant and kicked Azazel in the back of the head.

  “I see all the cockroaches are crawling out now. Get ready to die.” Azazel snarled, taking his stance.

  “Excalibur, to me.” The legendary sword flew into Samael’s grasp, and he readied himself.

  “This is going to be interesting,” Camiel remarked, watching intently.

  “As expected from an old friend—not getting knocked out when I ruptured your spirit,” Samael smirked.

  Azazel lunged once more, his strikes lethal and precise. Yet, Samael dismantled each technique with methodical ease. Targeting Azazel’s tendons to neutralize his Reverse Swallow, Samael wore down his defences. When the moment came, he struck not at the soul—but directly at the spirit. His adaptive technique, honed by relentless training, exploited the core vulnerability hidden within Azazel’s celestial form.

  A calculated, diagonal slash was aimed to cleave Azazel’s spirit in two. Realizing the danger, Azazel sacrificed his arm to deflect the fatal blow using Reverse Swallow, leaping back as he hastily mended the wound. He knew only a strike to the spirit’s core—the narrative heart within the centre of the torso—could truly end him.

  “You’re stronger than before, Samael,” Azazel conceded with a wry smirk. “I might have to unleash everything I have.”

  Samael remained silent, calculating his next move. He knew that Azazel would continue sacrificing parts of himself to survive. The simplest solution was to overwhelm his defences with simultaneous attacks—breaking through to strike his spirit directly. With Excalibur’s energy waning, his best option was coordinating a barrage that would shatter Azazel’s celestial narrative.

  Samael lunged, delivering an upward slash that broke through Azazel’s guard. Azazel jumped back and retaliated by forming a dome from the very ground beneath them. But Samael unleashed [Exodus: First Commandment—Light of Heaven], obliterating the dome. In that instant, Azazel launched a thrust from Samael’s blind spot, nearly catching him off guard—but Samael ducked, swept Azazel’s legs, sending him airborne, and prepared a decisive thrust of his own.

  Azazel parried, but it was all part of Samael’s plan. Using the momentum, he spun and delivered a final, decisive strike—severing Azazel’s head clean off.