Table of Contents
Chapter 17 l Chapter 18 l Chapter 19 l Chapter 20 l Chapter 21 l Chapter 22 l Chapter 23
Chapter 24 l Chapter 25 l Chapter 26 l Chapter 27 l Chapter 28 l Chapter 29 l Chapter 30 l Chapter 31

Zepherina

I was fuming after I had spoken with Ragna, my Mom.

How could she be so selfish? But then again, what else did I expect?

She hadn’t changed, not really.

I moved through the foyer, most parting for me as I made my way through.

However, I heard someone shouting, an argument of some kind. It sounded like Madison.

I turned and headed towards the commotion, spotting Madison in front of a black-haired woman with equally black wings and soft green eyes. She appeared to be agitated.

“Whoever you think you are, you are not my sister,” The black-winged angel shouted, “I watched Eris die!”

Madison giggled oddly, “Oh, I can prove it to you,” Madison said as she got uncomfortably close to the angel, “Juv…”

The black-winged angel’s eyes widened, “What did you just call me?”

“I said: Juv. My nickname for my dear oldest sister,” Madison paused, “Though by all technical standards since you were in status for so many years and I’ve been existing in a perpetual immortal plane, I think I can confirm I’m older than you now.”

I lifted an eyebrow as I looked at Madison, spotting a foreign spirit inside her.

“Oh, uh… Shit,” Madison said as she turned, “We were too loud. There was like, a pretty good chance she wasn’t going to hear me but I got way too excited and now-”

I grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground, “Whatever you are… Get out of my officer’s body,” I growled.

“I’m here willingly and my name is Eris, Goddess of Chaos and Discord!” Madison, or Eris, choked out.

I narrowed my eyes on her, and poked her forehead, “Madison, is this true?” I asked directly to Madison’s spirit.

The reply was quick, “Yes, General. Sorry, she asked to borrow me. I can’t refuse my patron.”

I let Madison go, “You’re lucky Madison is my mother’s closest friend.”

“Well General, that’s why I chose her, duh!” Eris said as she got to her feet, “Anywho, have you met my sister, Juventas?” Eris asked, trying to change the subject.

I turned to face Juventas, not sure how to regard the black-haired angel.

“General?” Juventas looked me up and down, “Listen… This woman claims to be my Sister Eris, but I watched her die centuries ago!”

I smiled, “I see. Zagreus, or as they prefer, Dionysus, says ‘Hi’, by the way.”

Juventas lifted a well-sculpted eyebrow at me, “Excuse me?”

“He forged the Titans of Fire, Earth, Water and Air for Alexander the Great. I’m their new mistress and the one who she’s favoring now,” I explained.

“She? Zagreus was a man,” Juventas countered, “This is all nonsense.”

“I know, isn’t it great!” Eris giggled, “I mean, you don’t have context for like, the whole thing but Zags and I got killed and we died in a titan furnace which destroyed our bodies but further empowered our spirits. Then, Zags kicked the Titan’s asses on the ethereal plane,” Eris leaned over, cupping her hand to her cheek in a mock whisper, “Not without my help…” Eris giggled, “And then he decided that they didn’t want to be a guy anymore and poof - Dionysus was born!”

I sighed, “She’s probably telling the truth.”

“So where is Dionysus, then?” Juventas asked.

“Eh, she’s a stick in the mud! She prefers to keep her power in the ethereal planes like we’re supposed to because of all that ‘Harming Reality’ crap, but me? I like the fun of poking in often,” Eris giggled.

“I’m sorry… You pop in and out of the Ethereal plane?” I asked.

“No, I can’t bring back the dead,” Eris smiled, “Maybe you should ask your buddy over there.”

I turned to where Eris pointed and my breath caught in my chest.

Standing there, sickle towering over him, wrapped in flowing black robes, I saw a dark-skinned man’s face peeking out at me with soft golden eyes barely hidden by a coarse black cowl.

“Elon…?” I whispered, blinking.

As soon as I spotted him, he was gone.

“Tootles!” I heard Eris say as I rushed towards him.

I pushed my way past several individuals as I rushed towards where I saw his blackened robes flutter, rushing down the steps and past the Expanse.

I was surprised I didn’t run past my mother, but continued further down, moving past the fountain.

I headed towards the hallway, making my way down a flight of stairs before I paused at the large marble archway that led to the massive crypt below the Guardian Temple.

I saw something vanish into the darkness within the crypts.

The light seemed to vanish around me as I walked inside.

I shivered as I looked deep into the darkened corridor. Soft blue and white lights flickered here and there, but no brighter than a small candle flame, each.

“Elon?” I called out.

My voice didn’t echo.

But, I saw a figure move in the darkness and a light flash off of the tall sickle.

I ran inside without thinking, “Wait, Elon! I-I have a question! Come back!” I shouted, charging into the room without much thought.

My voice still didn’t echo as I found myself standing in the middle of the room. Rows of sarcophagi on either side of me.

I collected myself for a moment before I heard a voice whisper.

“The dead do not wish you to mourn forever, but it is an offense to not mourn at all,” the voice called out.

It was Elon.

“…I don’t mourn well, okay?” I whispered under my breath, knowing Elon could hear me, but hoping no one else would.

The last time I had mourned or felt the sting of loss, things didn’t go well. I grew too accustomed to Ragna, to my mom. She fed me everything I wanted to hear and pointed me in the direction of her enemies. I ended up taking the anger and hate I felt and let it burn a path across the former United States.

When I lost my best friend.

When I lost Theodora.

I clenched my fist and pushed my emotions down. The last time I dwelled on Theodora’s death was when I was stuck in an enraged state, in my ascended form for months because of what happened in Mexico City.

I couldn’t let the dead dictate my life, I knew that now. People were counting on me!

“When, exactly, would I have had time to do that?!” I shouted.

Elon was silent.

“Come on, tell me, Elon? When?!” I shouted into the crypts, “When I had no choice but to kill my sister? When the gates of Hell had burst open and I had to defend my people and friends?!” I shouted, barely able to hear my voice, barely able to see as tears filled my eyes.

I looked down, closing my eyes tight as I felt myself coming down from my ascended state. I felt my heartbeat in my chest once more.

“When would I have had a single moment to stop and mourn everything that was taken from me?!” I screamed into the void.

I got no answer.

“…Elon, are you even there?” I whispered.

“I am,” echoed the distinct Romanian accent of Zithero through the air, “I could hear you shouting.”

I turned to Zithero, looking down at him as he approached, a weak smile on his face as his green eyes peered up at me from the darkness. He wore dirtied brown and gray robes and carried his old twisted wooden staff.

I tried to speak for a moment, but Zithero just gently took my hand in his.

“Zepherina, you are the strongest person I know,” he smiled, “But, even you cannot do all of this alone.”

I sniffled, turning my face from him as tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Everyone needs support,” Zithero began, “The mightiest trees in the forest cannot stand alone, you know?” He chuckled, “They have the soil to take root in and beneath that the clay to hold the water. That clay rests over the shale and bedrock beneath to support that. The larger the tree, the more support it needs.”

I sniffled, wiping away tears as quickly as I could, “So, I’m a big tree to you?”

“Like a mighty RedWood,” Zithero chuckled.

I half-laughed and half-cried as he spoke.

“We’re all here to help each other,” Zithero offered, “Not just for when things are going well.”

“I know, it’s just…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

“You feel like you need to shoulder the burden, so no one else has to?” Another voice called out from the entrance of the catacombs.

I turned to see Timothy’s ice-blue eyes looking at me. He looked solemn himself.

I nodded.

“I can say I fully understand,” Timothy sighed, “Things have been… Moving so fast,” He looked up to me, “At least they seem to be for me.”

I gave a nod.

Timothy sighed, “We lost a lot, thanks to Xyphiel. This war is only just beginning. I never imagined we’d lose Eva or…” Timothy trailed off.

“Our mother,” I finished with a hard swallow.

Timothy nodded, “You knew Rachel far better than I ever did. I resented her for that, but never held it against you.”

I growled, clenching my fist, “Everyone has something to say about her, it seems!” I snapped, “But she was my mother! The only one I knew about for years. She raised me! She loved me and I love her! And now-” my voice hitched and cracked. I turned away from Timothy, taking a moment to collect myself. “She’s gone.”

Timothy was silent, “I’m sorry. It was foolish to think this did not affect you.”

“It couldn’t have an effect on me!” I shouted, turning to Timothy, “You saw what happened to Ragna!

Timothy nodded, “I saw.”

“We’re beings of spirit, mind and body, so whatever affects our heads and hearts affects our strength!” I snapped, pointing to my chest, “So if I let myself get all fucked up inside, I’m going to be completely useless and then everyone is going to die!”

That word, out of all of them, echoed back through the halls.

My heart hammered in my chest as I stared down Timothy.

Timothy approached me and took my hand, “When I broke it off with Sofia, or tried to,” He chuckled, “I was a wreck. I was useless.”

I narrowed my eyes on Timothy expecting him to reach some kind of counterpoint.

“But what broke me wasn’t the fact that she was gone or that I couldn’t see her again,” Timothy sighed, “What broke me was that I was the one who did it. That it was my decision to take her out of my life so that I could protect her.”

I scoffed, “Sofia was literally the last person on the planet who needed protecting.”

Timothy smiled, nodding, “I know. I know that now, anyway,” he looked up to me, “But Sofia and I have worked on ourselves since then. We were open and I discovered a great truth for us.”

“And that is?” I asked, my anger starting to grow.

“Death isn’t the end,” Timothy said, a warm smile on his face, “It’s a transition. It’s a time when we’ll be apart for a bit longer, but we’ll come back to one another someday.”

The knot in my stomach seemed to unwind slightly, though I still felt a few tears rolling down my face.

“It’s not goodbye forever,” Timothy chuckled, “Just goodbye, for now.”

Zithero smiled weakly, “Like with my sister, Syria. Someday, she’ll be back or I’ll see her again. I don’t know when, but…” He closed his eyes, “When the wind blows on a stormy day, I can feel her in the air.”

I nodded and let go of Timothy, hugging Zithero tight.

“Oof!” Zithero grunted as I wrapped my arms around him.

“I don’t get a hug?” Timothy chuckled.

“Zithero’s better with his words,” I said, turning to Timothy, forcing a weak smile at him, “But… yours weren’t too bad.”

Timothy chuckled, sighing, “We should have a funeral for Rachel. Just, something short, small, intimate,” Timothy looked around, “For us. For closure. So we can get back to what we need to do.”

I nodded, “Ragna,” I sighed, “Mom has her body, I’m sure.”

“And where is our mother, Ragna, now?” Timothy asked.

I looked at Timothy curiously, “Didn’t you see her as you came in?”

“No,” Timothy said, “I didn’t spot her on the way down. I just… I had this feeling I should pay my respects.”

“Elon?” I said, lifting an eyebrow.

Timothy froze for a moment and then nodded, “Yeah. Elon.”

I turned to Zithero, “Did you see her?”

“I, uh,” Zithero laughed, “I just sort of teleported to you the moment I felt you in distress.”

I sighed, “Okay, so first we find Ragna, she’s somewhere in the Temple. Then we can have a funeral for Rachel, our mother.” I looked around, "Since someone requested it!”

I didn’t hear anything, as I headed to the door.

“Any clue where she could be?” Timothy asked.

“Well, it’s not like she’s hard to miss,” I shrugged, “Someone saw her.”

That’s when a faint whisper passed by my left ear.

“I only ask you to pay respect to the dead, we do not like being ignored,” Elon’s voice gently whispered past me before I felt him vanish completely.

…

Ragna

Vael and Asmodai moved to a corner of the room to work, and as they did, Michael looked up at me, his words weak as he spoke.

“Ragna,” St. Michael wheezed, “I need you to answer a very important question for me before it’s too late,” He glanced at Raphael and Gabriel, “You all must listen to her answer.”

Raphael nodded, their red eyes turning to me as Michael spoke.

Gabriel, on the other hand, had their attention split. One head was focused on me, a face of stern condemnation in their eyes. Another head was looking at St. Michael, with a gaze of empathy and concern, while the final head was watching Asmodai closely.

“I must ask you, please,” Michael said in weakening breaths, “Will you fulfill the destiny that you should have taken?” he pleaded.

I flinched for a moment.

Had things played out differently, just as St. Michael had claimed they did for that alternate version of myself, then I would have been in Michael’s place now.

I considered that for a moment. Though, looking down at him, I knew I wasn’t envying his position. Lying there, dying a true death.

Asmodai’s voice called out, “The forge is ready. We must act quickly or we risk losing him completely.”

I nodded and got to my feet, “St. Michael,” I sighed, “Uncle, I cannot do that.”

Michael grabbed my wrist, pulling himself up to face me, “When I am reforged, you must wield me, Ragna! You must take my place!”

“No!” I protested, “Choose Geoffrey! He’s your avatar! I am not worthy! Geoffrey is-”

“-Not strong enough to lead us!” St. Michael interrupted, “You, Ragna, it must be you!” Michael hissed in pain, “You must take up the fate that was denied to you and take up the sword of leadership! You know Xyphiel, as I know Lucifer. This battle… It must be you and Xyphiel, clashing with me as your blade against the force which still holds strong to Lucifer!” Michael decreed.

I froze as he spoke.

“Take up your destiny, take up your arms and do all you can to defeat Xyphiel!” Michael’s voice lowered as his grip lost its strength, “For… Only in that way… do you have any hope of atonement.”

I frowned as Asmodai scooped Michael up.

“Wait-” I paused as Asmodai spoke.

“We have wasted enough time, the corruption cannot sit in him much longer or else he will be destroyed completely,” Asmodai argued, turning to me, “Mistress.”

I sighed, looking at Michael, “…I’ll do as you request.”

“Under my protest, as a note,” Gabriel hissed, turning to Ragna, “I expect once you prove unworthy, that the blade that is forged from Michael’s essence will rip itself from your hand.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I growled at Gabriel.

Raphael narrowed his eyes on me, “It is only the fact you denied the charge the first time I am even considering not protesting.”

“Brother-” Gabriel began to argue.

“If she was as prideful as her father, she’d have leapt at the chance to seize leadership,” Raphael’s gaze burrowed into me, “But know this, Daughter of Pride: The Archangels will not follow you if Gabriel and I decree it. We will not accept orders blindly. So keep that at the forefront of your command, should you feel the desire to offer them.”

Asmodai placed St. Michael on a large silvery slab, at his side was a short hammer, with a flat and coned side. “St. Michael… You have only ever felt the pain of Hellfire, so I will warn you: This will burn you deeper than any flame Hell could conjure.”

St. Michael nodded, “I… Understand.”

“You do not,” Asmodai countered, turning to Gabriel, Raphael and myself, “You may not wish to be present for this, he will suffer,” Asmodai warned as the massive furnace before him opened.

It appeared like a huge stone oven, though there was a slab for Michael to lay on, it wasn’t flat. It appeared to be tilted from the sides, aimed at a channel in the center. Near Michael’s head was a white rod.

Once the huge furnace opened, I saw white-hot flames licking at the base of the slab. Sparks fluttered out of the furnace like glitter and hung in the air like silvery flakes.

“I have seen the death of billions,” Gabriel countered, “Do not think me faint of heart.”

Raphael’s expression hardened, “I shall stand through my brother’s tribulations.”

Asmodai sighed and took hold of the handle, “The fire shall burn your flesh, spirit and mind. It will sear the corruption from you with superheated mana. I know my words will do nothing to aid you, but remember that this pain will only last for a few short minutes of your existence.”

“You’ll take some joy in this, I’m sure, Asmodeus,” Michael wheezed, turning to Asmodai.

Asmodai turned to Michael, “I would lie if I were to say I took no pleasure in this,” a sly grin came over his face, “Farewell, Michael. Do try to hold yourself together.”

With that, Asmodai forced the slab forward, where it shoved Michael completely into the furnace.

Vael floated nearby, their expression almost impossible to gauge. Their jeweled eyes focused on the white-hot flames within.

At first, I heard only Michael grunting, struggling slightly. He managed to hold off for a few moments before a belch of blue and blackened steam burst from the opening of the furnace.

Michael’s first scream was jarring. It ripped through the air shortly after that. A scream of shock and surprise.

The next scream was a mix of a human yell and a draconic roar. The roar didn’t remain so for long, as it rose in volume and pitch. The inhuman screech made me stagger back as a plume of blueish smoke blasted out of the furnace entrance.

Asmodai stood firm, his eyes locked on Michael’s body as the flames consumed him.

Michael’s screams grew more numerous, almost building on top of each other, as if many mouths were screaming, screeching and crying out in agony.

They grew higher, filled with choking and gargling as I saw Asmodai struggle to hold the handle inside the furnace.

Through screams of anguish, a burning, red-hot-clawed hand reached out of the furnace, attempting to grab onto the edge and pull itself out.

Asmodai was quick to smash the hand with his hammer, looking down upon Michael’s burning form.

I glanced at Gabriel and Raphael, trying to gauge if this would trigger them to act.

Gabriel’s lip quivered on one of their heads, another’s held a face of utter shock and terror, while the centermost head looked on reverently, eyes watering as they watched.

Raphael brought his hand to his snout, his color growing greyer as he watched on.

“St. Raphael, are you-” Before I could ask, Michael’s screaming redoubled.

Screeches of torment echoed through the room, as a voice neither man nor dragon, ripped through the air like a dull jagged knife tearing into my ear drums.

The sound was sickening, as we could hear the desperation in its shrill and pained cries.

I barely heard the sound of Raphael falling to the ground over the horrific shrieks.

With a swift motion, Asmodai pulled the slab out.

There, his body glowing white and wreathed in flame, I saw Michael.

He looked smaller, his tail and wings missing, just legs struggling, arms reaching up, one arm missing a hand.

Asmodai brought the hammer down on his shoulders, and I watched the arms fall towards Michael’s inner body. Every hammer strike caused yet more screams, screeches, and calls of misery.

I heard echoes of many voices calling for mercy, for an end.

But before more pleading could escape from Michael, Asmodai shoved him back into the furnace.

The agonizing cry, the final one, chilled me to my core.

It was a roar of horror and despair I would never forget.

The sound ricocheted through the room like a bullet, echoing through the chambers, and causing me to recoil in shock from the sheer volume.

Somewhere in the cacophony of screams, I could hear a question called out in complete desperation and heartbreak, “Why can one feel such suffering?!”

With that, the screaming finally ceased, mercifully.

Asmodai drew the slab out again, hammering with brutal efficiency and confident blows.

Now the only roaring we heard was that of the furnace, the only cries occurred occasionally when Asmodai’s hammer struck down on the slab.

I turned from the scene and rushed to Raphael, helping him up, “Is he-”

Gabriel’s voices called out, each with a different tone. One somber, one callus and one caring, “He was not prepared for the sounds of Death.”

I shook off Gabriel’s words and hefted Raphael up in my arms. As I laid him on the bed, I heard the sound of sliding metal and turned to see Asmodai moving towards a large stone anvil.

There I saw a huge glowing form attached to the rod that Asmodai was holding.

Asmodai began to slam the hammer down onto the form on the anvil. As he did, Vael tended to the forge, stoking its flames, making them grow hotter, the white light they emitted cast a massive shadow of Asmodai upon the wall.

Asmodai’s hammer rose and fell. Each fall causes a flash of white sparks to fill the room with near-blinding light.

With nothing more than mechanical precision, Asmodai brought the mass, now even smaller, back to the furnace. He thrust it inside, his eyes watching the form closely as his hand spun it deftly.

Asmodai’s concentration was iron-clad as he worked. Moving the molten form in and out of the furnace, hammering and repeating.

After what felt like hours of forging, a long blade had been formed. Asmodai looked it over slowly, the blade now cooling from a white molten metal to a steady orange glow. “…The venom has been burned out completely.”

“What of Michael?” I asked, “What will remain of him?”

“That is yet to be seen,” Asmodai said as he turned to Vael, “He must be Quenched.”

Vael nodded and a large vat of glowing mana appeared.

Asmodai thrust the glowing blade deep into the mana, which caused a burst of blue steam to erupt from the pulsing mana pool before him.

Without casting his gaze on me, Asmodai reached his free hand out, “Mistress, I request a feather that has been imbued with your power.”

I frowned as Asmodai made his demand.

“Similar to the one you used to grant me my ascension,” Asmodai clarified.

I closed my eyes, drawing on the mana within me, and focusing it into a feather. I plucked it from my wing and offered it to Asmodai.

Asmodai let go of the blade, leaving it in the mana pool and took my feather to the forge. “A blade of Retribution,” Asmodai offered, “Requires a proper guard for battle.”

As he forced my feather inside, I saw plumes of violet steam mixed with the blackened smoke from before.

Asmodai did the same with my feather as he did with Michael, though he hammered the feather into a smaller form than a blade. He used the conical side of his hammer, piercing a hole through the center before he went back to the blade that was once the Archangel Michael.

Pushing the new guard onto the blade, Asmodai returned it to the forge.

I watched as he drew it out of the forge, hammering it into shape once more, before quenching the entirety of the blade again in the mana.

Asmodai turned to Vael, looking up at them, “The final components, I would expect the Guardian Temple itself to provide,” Asmodai said, his hand outstretched.

Vael nodded and a chunk of the forge flew to their hands. It formed into a grip and floated to Asmodai, “Would this suffice, Asmodai?”

Asmodai took the grip in his hand and held it firmly, “Yes,” he said as he gave it a firm squeeze, the material unyielding.

He attached it under the guard and lifted the entire blade into the air.

The blade itself was marbled with lines of silver and blue swirls. Patterns moving along what appeared to be metal.

A blood groove was mid-way through the blade, leading to the guard which was shaped like two brass feathers. The handle that Vael provided was a marble substance, like the halls of The Guardian Temple itself.

Asmodai balanced the blade, by the guard, on his index finger, watching as the blade slowly tipped back and forth before it leveled itself out, “…Well done, Michael. You make a fine blade.”

I approached Asmodai, “Is it done?” I asked.

Asmodai turned and bowed, offering the blade to me, “The edge will be as sharp as you need, Mistress. St. Michael is now the Sanctified Blade of the Guardians,” Asmodai looked up to me, “And this blade is yours to wield, by Michael’s request.”

I took the sword in my hand. I gave it a few swings, after backing away from Asmodai.

It was well made, well balanced and I could feel with each swing, a surge of confidence.

A voice whispered to me as I gave it an approving inspection, “By your hand, I shall draw blood. By our spirit, we shall punish the wicked.”

I nodded to the sword and to Michael, “Are you in there?”

“I am a tool of the Lord,” the voice whispered back, “As I have always been.”

…

Xyphiel

I landed near the Vatican’s ruined and charred steps.

I made my way through bloodied halls and cracked marble facades that actively crumbled and gave way as I proceeded past them.

I clenched my jaw in a vain attempt to quell my seething rage.

Zepherina, my sister’s little science experiment run amuck, was hurling my carefully laid plans off kilter.

An amalgamation of the blood of Ragna and Rachel, I shouldn’t be surprised the little petri dish was a walking, talking ball of chaos.

Anticipating her wild swings in temperament and her abilities were growing tiresome.

Defeating her had to be my central focus. But for now, I had more immediate vulnerabilities to patch.

“Master!” Serenity’s voice called out to me.

I turned to see my hand at corrupting God’s plan standing before me, clutching a staff in her bloodied hands as her bright blue eyes were fixed on me gleefully.

“Welcome home!” Serenity chirped out pleasantly.

“Where exactly have you been?” I hissed. I was not in a welcoming mood.

“Protecting Belphegor should anyone attempt to interrupt him,” Serenity smiled warmly, “I’ve been monitoring the Vatican for any potential holy activity and can report none!”

“Well done, Serenity,” I commended, approaching her calmly, “Where is Lord Belphegor, now?”

Serenity bowed, “Oh, thank you so much, my Master! Lord Belphegor is in his chambers, shall I fetch him?”

“No need,” I confirmed, “Lead me to him,” I ordered.

Serenity began to walk down the long and ruined halls.

After several twists and turns, I came upon Belphegor’s throne.

A disgusting mess, of course. Filled to the brim with a sickening smell of sulfur and rotting meat. The walls were covered in decaying flesh. I looked at the long tendrils reaching up from the center, climbing the walls like vines.

Oddly, some had begun to fall.

In a mass of them, I saw Belphegor lying, motionless.

“But, But Master, no one came in, I swear!” Serenity defended, shocked, “There wasn’t even movement in this chamber!”

Belphegor chuckled from his fallen pile of flesh and sinew, “Oh… Dear Serenity, no one entered, no one left,” Belphegor chuckled slyly, “Indeed. Nothing happened at all.”

“Lord Belphegor,” I growled, walking in slowly, “Explain?”

“I failed,” Belphegor stated succinctly, “I attempted to drag the Halfling down, but I failed.”

“Halfling?” I asked.

“She is half Cherubim, Half Seraphim,” Belphegor turned to me, the weak pale blue flames in his eyes flickering as he did so, “But you know all too well of the… Science experiment.”

I narrowed my eyes on him, “You failed, so what use are you to me?” I inquired.

“None,” Belphegor said, not moving, yet smiling oddly as his wings spread slowly, “But that’s my nature,” he turned to me, “At least as I am now, I am no use to you.”

I glared at him as he continued his aggravating deflection.

“You wish to destroy all reality, and return it to a state of entropy, yes?” Belphegor asked, the flame flickering once more in his eyes.

“You know of my plot,” I stated.

“Then take me as I am,” Belphegor grinned, “Consolidate your power and destroy me. Take me into nothing so that all this noise, this reality, can come crashing down around us,” He offered me his hand, “I offer my everything to you so that you can take the last of what I am and return me to nothing. To true Entropy.”

I gave him a curious look, unsure why anyone would wish to enter into such a state willingly.

Belphegor ’s smile grew bolder, “There is no deception. Take my power, consolidate all the sins within you and lay waste to God’s world.”

Without another thought I took Belphegor’s hand, the seal on mine activating and drawing his power into it.

“Five sins in one man, soon to be more,” Belphegor grinned as power left his body, “How long before the others know that they and I will share the same fate?”

“I do not expect it to be long,” I reasoned, drawing his power slowly.

Belphegor took a long breath and exhaled as his power flowed into me, “Wrath has awakened, and your choice of Lust was well made. They will be far more useful than I, far longer,” his eyes fixed on me as they flickered, “But beware the bite of the serpent,” he grinned, “Remember, ‘twas beauty that killed the beast’.”

With that, Belphegor’s physical form ceased. He broke into nothing but vapor, circling my palm and fist before vanishing within my seal.

I closed my fist and felt the surge of energy from the sin of Sloth echo through my body.

Included were the memories of Belphegor.

In them, I could see how close to victory he was over Zepherina.

Zepherina’s trials within the Tower of Mourning played instantly in my mind as I watched her actions.

Zepherina’s physical abilities were unparalleled, but here, in the Tower of Mourning, she stumbled.

It was not Zepherina herself who defeated Belphegor, but rather his foolish attempts to tamper with reality.

It seemed Belphegor and Lucifer made the same fatal mistakes in that regard, though I suppose expecting Belphegor to put effort into his trials was asking too much of Sloth.

Still, I could see something… Ragna’s vices. I knew of her drinking, her emotional connections, but there was something else.

I chuckled, “Ah, so now I am pressed for time…”

“Master?” Serenity asked quizzically.

“Call forth Bella and Khairunnisa,” I heaved a heavy sigh, “Ragna may have reinforcements if we allow this charade to continue any longer. If I know my son, my sister and the acts of the Righteous, they’re taking this time to reconvene and I shall be their primary target,” I turned to Serenity, “Go join the armies and lead the demons to victory. Should you spot Angels or Saints in your way, dispatch them with haste.”

Serenity bowed and ran off, giggling madly, “Yes Master!”

I considered my options, walking towards Bella’s throne room next. She likely would have returned by now.

After taking a few additional turns, I came upon Bella’s throne.

The power that emanated from within was not what I expected.

The room was covered in pulsing green flame, and I could sense dark and corrupted spirits encircling the entire space, roaming free and growing stronger as they reached the center.

There, at the epicenter of this power, like a radiating green sun, was Bella.

Bella appeared in a semi-human form. Though now adorned with mighty black wings covered in black chainmail. A crown of blackened iron and green flame sat on her head, long black hair flowing down her back between those otherwise smooth wings.

Black and green armor adorned her body, except past the waist, where a large skirt of chains and black plates hung.

“I see you chose a new aesthetic,” I commented as I entered.

The empowered spirits focused on me, Bella did not turn to face me, her attention on a burning green fire in the center of the room. “It was not made to please you,” Bella’s voice answered an unprompted question.

I approached unphased, “I will require you and Khairunnisa to anticipate our enemy’s next actions.”

“Hmm,” Bella mused, not looking my way, “Lord Xyphiel, I am curious, how many souls do you own?”

“Other than yours?” I asked.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Bella asked, turning to me finally.

As she did, I could see the burning green flames within her eye sockets indicating she had ascended.

I was surprised and her blackened lips curled into a wry smile at my shocked expression.

“How many souls do you have accounted for, on the battlefield?” Bella asked again.

I closed my eyes, feeling the many demons roaming the earth, “A great many. I wouldn’t waste the time to count them.”

“You should,” Bella reached her hand into the towering green flame before her, “Because one of them is not yours.”

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on her.

Bella’s attention focused forward into the flame. She whispered softly, chanting before seemingly grabbing something and ripping it from the fire.

A cry of shock echoed through the air as a demoness was cast out of the fire and thrown to my feet.

The demoness cried out, her light violet eyes frantic as she collapsed at my feet. Her horns scraped on the floor, her hair sprawling out on the ground around me. Red wings fluttered in a panic as she grabbed at her throat.

Bella’s footsteps echoed as she stood behind the demoness, whom I was certain I had seen before.

“Well Well Well,” Bella grinned, “Look who stuck around,” she lifted a finger, pulling the demoness up from the ground with unseen force, “Skulking about through our ranks as if you belonged, Esmerelda?”

The woman called out in a high-class tone, “Release me, Bella! You’re being paranoid!”

“I did not forget what master you serve, Esmerelda,” Bella grinned, turning to me, and making Esmerelda face me.

I looked her over and grinned, “My sister’s pet demoness…”

Esmerelda’s face hardened.

“I see she left you behind,” I chuckled.

“Purposefully,” Bella explained, “She was within our ranks, likely to spy on us.”

I growled in anger, reaching out to grab Esmerelda’s throat.

Bella’s hand caught my wrist, holding me firm. I narrowed my eyes on her.

“Hold yourself, Lord Xyphiel… Ragna owns this one’s soul,” Bella said softly, “So, Ragna would trust whatever it was that Esmerelda says. To lie to one who owns your soul is the most painful of things to do, after all. Defying your master or mistress is impossible.”

Esmerelda growled, “Just kill me already!”

“Kill you?” Bella taunted, “No no, You’re too useful, little one…”

“Little, I am your senior-” Esmerelda tried to speak before Bella snapped her fingers.

Green flame surrounded Esmerelda as she turned to face Bella.

Bella’s eyes burned with molten emerald flame as Esmerelda gasped.

“Look at me, little one,” Bella hissed, “What do you see?”

Esmerelda’s eyes were wide as she looked upon Bella.

Esmerelda’s brow furrowed as she stared deep into Bella’s eyes.

“H…Hate,” Esmerelda whimpered.

Bella pulled Esmerelda closer to her, slowly lifting up her chin, as she did. I saw Esmerelda’s eyes roll into the back of her head before green fire filled them. Esmerelda gasped in pain and twitched in the air before her body floated up and over Bella’s throne.

I turned to Bella, “What did you do?”

“I have seized her spirit and mind. No matter the pain Ragna offers against her, she is mine to puppet,” Bella turned to Esmerelda, “She’ll suffer there until she’s slain or I release her,” Bella glanced back at me, “So, Lord Xyphiel… Your move, it would seem.”

I smiled at Bella. Belphegor was right, Bella had her uses for the time being.

Now I had a true advantage in my corner and I would use it to lure Ragna to her final destination.

A death, at my hands.