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Chapter 80: Let There Be Light.
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 03:03:39 +0000 UTCCelestial Ascendancy
Chapter 80: Let There Be Light.
Elias Black
Kuoh, Japan.
I was grimacing even before I apparated to Rias’s cabin in the mountains. Apparating was downright useful, but the need to visualize in my mind the place I wanted to be slowed it down a fair bit. However, even with that caveat, it was by magnitudes faster than the standard teleportation the supernatural world had.
Clicking my tongue, I apparated in short bursts to where the growing looking Dragon would fall.
Just sending it flying with the aid of my magic and my body had taken considerable effort, and I was realizing that I didn’t have any practice battling anything that big.
In fact, I had never seen anything as significant as this bastard, who was rapidly approaching my location. For a moment, I allowed amusement to cross my face, mainly because it was the reverse of some Pokémon anime scenes I remember from my past life, just in reverse.
It always made me cackle when Ash sent the two idiots flying along with the cat. It was so damn absurd.
Just now, instead of looking as if they were disappearing into the sky, a gargantuan dragon over five hundred meters long was growing and growling at me from a distance. The only reason it was not flying was that Durindana was impacting against its back and pushing the big motherfucker into the ground.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded to myself, feeling the Aetherius roaring inside my soul, almost as if begging to come out even more and cleanse this filth from the face of the earth.
I was already feeling quite sick just by being so close to it, and I didn’t miss the moment when my tendrils of holy light got corrupted as they coiled around the beast. The damn thing reeked of corruption, almost at the same level as the spear that the twelve-winged fallen angel had, and the one that killed me.
The fact that there were multiple of those cursed things made me almost shiver; the slap from Serafall being the only reason I wasn't making myself a stressed mess.
I might have a problem. I just didn’t know who to speak with, since… well, pretty unique circumstances and all that.
But it was not the moment for that, obviously. Even if I was panicking a bit inside, it wasn't just about the spears. I was panicking thanks to the injury I saw Metatron carrying across his chest.
I wasn’t sure how different we were in essence between a Seraph and whatever I was. Still, that thing made a mess out of me, and Metatron was looking really bad the last time I saw him. I needed to hurry.
Opening my eyes, I allowed my magic to roar into life, gripping my hand and smiling as the sun above materialized two normal-length swords.
Roaring like never before, I opened the gateways even more, the sun shining in the sky, lighting up before a beam attacked as soon as the beast's maws opened to bellow some breath of corruption instead of fire as I had expected.
The beam tore through the clouds, impacting against the Dragon's head, and I jumped at the same time, willing my swords to increase in strength and potency, and I swung downwards with all my might.
The Dragon’s roar of pain nearly split my skull. My swing had connected, but instead of satisfaction, all I felt was my bones rattling in their sockets.
Cold sweat slid down my neck as one of the blades cracked and splintered, the corruption seeping from its wound fighting me back like living poison. Black miasma hissed out of the shallow gash I’d carved, and the sword dissolved with a pitiful screech.
“Tch,” I clicked my tongue and vanished just as its gaping maw released a torrent of foul breath. Apparition dropped me onto its back, my boots sinking into scales as wide as my damn torso.
Clenching my spear's shaft with my hands, I wrenched it free with a brutal pull, tearing away a few more scales. The lance sang with light as it cut, but the wound I left behind was barely more than a scratch thanks to the miasma covering its body.
It was honestly absurd.
Not that I had another option but to face it head-on.
The Dragon twisted with a madness that had nothing to do with instinct.
Its wings alone could have flattened buildings with ease; every beat sent hurricane tearing through the valley. It slammed its massive limbs down again and again, and each strike threatened to reduce me to paste.
Parrying when I could, Durindana shuddered in my hands as sparks and holy light danced off its corrupt body. When I couldn’t, I slipped away, space tearing as I Apparated, or I raised Rho Aias to catch a blow that would have crushed me outright.
But even Durindana wasn’t enough. Every thrust, every swing felt like trying to split mountains with a knife. My holy lance screamed with each impact, but the corruption clung to it, resisted it, dulled it. Blunt force wasn’t working.
My weapon was supposed to cut like a Divine weapon. Still, the corruption seeping from the beast was fighting against its properties like nothing I had ever seen before. Hell, it felt like I did more damage to Sai when he was using his Balance Breaker.
And while I doubted that a Dragon's body was supposed to be weak, it shouldn't have been this durable. Or at least I hoped this wasn't the norm.
Then came the snakes.
The miasma didn’t stay where it belonged. It slithered free of the Dragon’s scales, writhing into shapes like cursed serpents made of pure tar. They snapped at me from every direction, with fangs that weren’t teeth but curses that burned through my skin like my defenses meant nothing.
I cut them down, my blades flashing gold; I burned them with light until my magical reserves were depleted. Still, they came endlessly, replacing everyone I struck.
It was fortunate that my magic regenerated as quickly as I used it.
It was then that I understood. This thing was weaker than Serafall, yes. Still, only just a tiny bit, and the only reason I was feeling confident of fighting against it alone was because it fought like a rabid beast. With no thought behind those blackened eyes. If it had even a fraction of thoughtfulness, I’d already be in a difficult place.
The Dragon roared, and the corruption answered. Miasma poured from its body like a storm, blotting out the air itself.
My vision blurred as the sickening feeling increased multiple times, and I felt it was hard to breathe.
I was on the back foot.
So I let go. Blunt force clearly wasn’t the way.
My magic surged, and the gates cracked wider. The Aetherius screamed into the world, and light rained down. Endless streams of pure radiance lanced from above, slamming into the Dragon and, more importantly, the living miasma infecting it.
Where the corruption writhed, the light poured over it in a flood. It was not a delicate use, just sheer overwhelming quantity. It didn’t matter that it resisted and screamed at me; it drowned under my radiance.
I dragged in a breath, forcing my hands to keep fighting, parrying claws, hacking at the serpents that wouldn’t stop coming. Outwardly, I moved, but inwardly, I gathered. I pulled every shred of magic I had into one place, burning my core hollow again, letting it swell until I could feel my body groaning in protest.
Then I released it.
The mountain erupted. My holy light flooded everything; all of it burned away in the brilliance.
The earth cracked, leaves disintegrated, and shadows were no longer welcomed. And still, the Dragon howled, its corrupted form writhing against the deluge, as though the light itself was nothing but a mere inconvenience.
I didn’t hesitate. Apparating directly above the clouds. Durindana blazed in my hand, and I forced the lance to grow, grow until it stretched to over a hundred meters, the shaft screaming with the strain of Aetherius channeled through it. The weight made my arms twitch, but I swung.
It was as if I wasn’t strong enough to wield something of this size, which didn't make much sense, but Durindana felt heavier than ever, more than it realistically should have.
The strike carved from wings to neck, splitting scales and curse alike. The impact shuddered through the land, and fountains of blackened blood erupted, spattering the ruined earth below. The monster shrieked so loud that it rattled the clouds.
I let myself fall with the motion, my wings unfurling in a blaze of light to catch me. For a single breath, I saw it… one of those tar-black eyes glimmering with a faint bluish hue.
It wasn’t gone. Something was still there. And I wasn’t sure I liked the seeing it.
My gut twisted as I felt its magic surge. Hurriedly, I raised my hand and froze everything I could. A tidal wave of ice burst outward, swallowing the beast in a glacier, locking the Dragon in a crystal prison. For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Then cracks spider-webbed across the surface. The roar came, muffled and filled with hate.
The miasma boiled inside the ice, melting it from within, until the whole mass shattered into a thousand shards.
Grinning, I followed Serafall’s advice. My arms ignited, blue fire roaring to life, hotter than anything I had ever summoned. I screamed, and everything burned with me.
The forest, the mountain, even the air itself, all of it lit in azure flames. The Dragon’s corruption shrieked as its own breath combusted mid-air, consumed by the fire that burned not only matter, but the magic itself.
The Dragon bellowed, and the world shifted.
Where my blue flames had turned the mountain to Ash, the ground convulsed, split, and from the ruin came life after an enormous bluish magical circle covered the whole mountain.
Forests clawed their way up from the scorched soil, trees that bent and twisted as if they were born wrong. Rivers burst from cracks in the stone, hissing as their tar slithered over my flame. Roots surged like snakes, weaving through fire and frost alike, sprouting thorns that dripped venom. The droplets sizzled on the ground, eating holes into the rock itself.
And then came the animals.
From the puddles of venom, shapes crawled free, stags with too many limbs, wolves with jaws that split down their necks, birds without eyes.
Their bodies twitched, spasmed, and then locked onto me. Hundreds of them.
I snarled and met them head-on. Fire sprouted from my hands, blue conflagrations turning the abominations to Ash. Ice erupted from the ground, impaling and freezing others mid-charge. Durindana swept wide arcs, slicing through flesh that didn’t feel like flesh, scattering black blood that burned the air.
But they didn’t stop. They kept coming.
Every one I cut down, three more shambled forward. The forest was alive, the rivers crawling with curses made form, the earth itself reshaping into this endless tide of a facsimile of life.
I smirked.
The shadows at my feet writhed. They surged outward in a wave, spreading like oil across the broken land. The corrupted beasts screeched as the ground itself betrayed them, and then the pyres came.
Green fire erupted from below, blooming like pillars of hell. One after another, the pyres roared, burning everything they touched, the forest, the rivers, the abominations, even the Dragon’s own scales. The smell of burning corruption and seared flesh filled the air as the horde collapsed into nothingness.
And in that chaos, the Dragon opened its mouth.
Panicking, I moved. Durindana lengthened again in my grip, swelling with power until it towered like a spear fit for the gods from movies I saw when I was younger.
I hurled myself forward, my wings thrumming on my back, and drove the blade straight into its maw. The lance pierced through corrupted flesh, exploding with holy light inside its throat. The Dragon’s roar cut into a choking scream as its head reared back, light tearing through its body from the inside.
For the first time, the black fog in its eyes flickered. One of them shone clear. Not black… but a brilliant blue.
The Dragon’s roar changed. It wasn’t rage, it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t even defiance.
It was grief.
The sound cut through my head like a bell, and suddenly I wasn’t just hearing it, I was feeling it.
The Dragon was crying. Its claws still tore at me, its miasma still lashed like it had a life of its own, but beneath it all was sorrow so sharp it bled into my skull.
Every time Durindana struck, every time holy fire ripped into its flesh, something shifted. For an instant, its thoughts grew clearer.
I could feel them like whispers pressed into my mind.
“Amaterasu-Sama? Did she send someone to bring those crows to heel?”
I faltered for a second as my eyes widened. And for the first time since this began, I felt some eyes looking from a distance. A weight not so dissimilar to the one from the only God I personally knew.
Silence stretched, but I forced my voice steady, “No. I have no connection to her. But I will make sure those bastards pay for what they’ve done.”
The Dragon wailed then, its voice breaking the sky. And my mind, for that matter.
“…Kushihashi…! Seiryuu Kushihashi!” The name tore out of it like a wound, like a memory dragged screaming directly from the Dragon’s soul, “They pulled me from him. Weeks of torture… their cursed spear ripped me back into this mockery of life. They slaughtered every last Kushihashi… every one of them. Their bodies, their souls… twisted into these abominations! Stripped of will! Left to wander as monsters!”
My stomach turned in understanding. My grip on Durindana shook. Rage curled hot in my chest, tangled with disgust so sharp I clenched my teeth hard enough to hear a crack.
Something inside me shifted.
I forced the words through my anger, “I may not be a champion of your gods… but if you’ll have me, I will give you peace. You, and those clan members you still hold dear.”
The beast froze, just for a heartbeat. Its massive body shuddered, wings folding close as it hung in the air like a broken thing. Its thoughts pressed hard against mine, filled with confusion.
“…Who are you?”
The question hit me like a strike heavier than his previous attacks. For so long, I had denied it, run from it, laughed at it. But here, with the broken and desecrated sacred beast from Japan. there was no running anymore.
“I am the Messiah,” I said proudly. Firmly. Simply accepting my nature.
The Dragon’s great head lifted, its one blue eye burning with understanding.
“Messiah… The Abrahamic Pantheon. Did that God decide to help against his wayward offspring?” Its thoughts were raw, disbelieving, yet it didn’t turn away. “…Then take me. If you can.”
And then the visions came.
I staggered as my mind was dragged through its memories, not the glory, not the triumphs, but the worst moments of his life. The torture, the chains driven into scale and bone, the Kushihashi screaming as they were corrupted and remade. The cursed spear flashing, dripping wrongness, binding him.
The Dragon’s soul ripped out of his inheritor, caged in corruption, its roars turned to cries no one heard.
The sheer desperation as his Gods didn’t offer help. Forgotten or ignored by them.
All the while, the miasma thickened, fighting back, trying to drown me in despair. It pressed like tar against my eyes, trying to bury me beneath every horror the Seiryuu had suffered.
But I didn’t let go.
The Dragon’s roar tore through my skull, no longer a sound but a plea, “Hurry! That snake… he’s slithering back into me!”
I couldn’t help but feel for him.
I drew in a deep breath. My magic surged smoother than ever before, pouring through every vein like liquid fire. My wings stretched wide, blazing longer, brighter, burning with authority. My hair shimmered with light. Everything about me shone.
My third eye opened wide, and the miasma parted. For the first time, I truly saw him. Not the corrupted husk, not the abomination, but Seiryuu himself.
The proud, the unbroken, the sacred beast of the East, the strongest of them all. Blue scales glimmered beneath the ocean of filth, waiting... no, begging to be freed.
The Dragon howled again, its voice warping into madness. “Kill me! End it! I swore to protect this land, and now all I do is defile it! I would rather vanish than bring more ruin!”
A tear slid down my cheek.
I clenched my jaw, glaring up at him with all the weight of my conviction.
“No,” I said firmly, “You will not disappear, Seiryuu. You deserve better than that. You deserve to be cleansed. You deserve light.”
The sky responded before he could.
The sun above roared. No… it wasn’t really a sun.
The firmament itself cracked open wider, a wound in reality splitting until the Aetherius bled through. Infinity surged, not mindless as I felt it before, but backing me as its chosen.
And I smiled softly at the Dragon, “What did he say?” I tilted my head, “Ah, right… Let there be light.”
Then I let go.
And light simply was.
A beam so vast it eclipsed the horizon, so pure it annihilated everything it touched. The mountain range below screamed as two-thirds of it vanished in an instant, vaporized into nothing. The Dragon’s massive form was caught whole in the blast, obliterated in one fell stroke.
But through my third eye, I saw it… not the destruction, but his release.
The outline of Seiryuu shone within the flood, blue scales shining brightly, his actual body radiant beneath the fire of Heaven. He turned his gaze to me, and for the first time, I heard peace in his voice.
“Thank you, Messiah.”
And then his body dissolved, scattering into countless moths of light that drifted skyward, fading into the parted clouds until nothing remained but silence.
Later.
I dropped to the ground the moment it was done, my knees hitting the cleansed dirt. My chest heaved, sweat dripping down my face, though my reserves were already clawing back as if they’d never left me. Still, the drain was there, a heaviness in my limbs that refused to vanish.
I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to calm.
The silence pressed against my ears, but I could still feel the gaze, judging me from a distance, the God watching me and deciding what to do. They lingered only a moment longer before slipping away, and I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
I stood and shrugged my shoulders, letting my magic knit my flesh and bone, burn away the lingering ache and the corruption that sipped in. Light crackled along my veins, mending what even my healing magic could not.
That was when I felt it.
A desperate pull thrumming straight into my soul. Asia. Her voice wasn’t in my ears, but I heard it all the same, a prayer filled with terror and unwavering faith.
For the first time ever, it felt as if I could see through her eyes, forming a connection when I accepted her plea. And I saw… I saw the chaos she was in, the blood, the desperation.
My Akeno.
Rage flooded my veins like molten metal.
My hand trembled as I reached out, not with my will or simple magic, but with whatever force had taken root in me. I didn’t truly understand what I was doing, but I pressed back into that prayer, into her faith, her belief that I could help her.
The fissure above blazed in answer, its infinite glow bleeding softer, descending as a gentle radiance that swept toward her.
Something left me in that moment… a blessing, perhaps, unshaped in my inexperience, yet undeniable. I felt her nature shift, change, become something more. Sanctified, in a way the world had not seen in centuries.
Apparating to the distance, I looked neutrally at the ruined town unfolding around me in a blink. The Fallen were still howling their nonsense, spitting venomous words at Asia, but I ignored them. They weren’t even worth hearing.
I flashed next to her, blood still dripping from her frantic hands and feeling Akeno’s lifeforce frozen in time.
Without a word, I raised Durindana, drew the blade against my palm, and let golden blood free-fall. It struck Akeno first, searing against her broken form. Then the dumbstruck Metatron, his breath turning even as the ichor burned through his blackened wounds. Then I let it flow wider, my light spilling into every alley that was looking at the scene in shock. Their injuries vanished beneath my desire.
Then I looked up.
Kingly Gaze snapped open at full power.
The Fallen screamed as their wings buckled, their bodies crashing into the ground. Humans froze, trembling, their knees giving way under the weight pressing down on them. Even those who resisted clenched their teeth and bowed their heads, their souls acknowledging what their minds could not.
“You. Are. Next.”
And then my eyes turned. Past them. Past the rabble that didn’t deserve my attention.
To the seventy-foot abomination waiting beyond, its form writhing, a curse made flesh. A sin against the Kushihashi clan. A desecration that I vowed to fix.
My grip tightened on Durindana.
My wings snapped open with a thunderclap, and the tendrils writhed loose. Thousands of them lashed outward, binding the abomination in an instant. The monster screamed, thrashing, but every movement only tightened the grip until its limbs cracked under the pressure.
Through my third eye, I saw not just the flesh, not just the rotting form and poisonous being, but the snake inside. A writhing being of purple magic, hiding deep within, enhancing the puppet and regenerating its magic as fast as the Aetherius. That was the true heart. The source of its regeneration.
I raised Durindana, and everyone tensed. The Aetherius roared through the fissure above, funneled into the spear until it groaned and shimmered with power it was never meant to contain. Not that I planned it to last too long.
With a heave, I lanced it forward.
The spear tore through the air like the judgment of gods, straight toward the serpent.
The abomination howled, but my shadows impaled it. They spread wider, devouring the ground, wrapping it in chains of black and gold. The moment the spear struck, the bindings ignited.
Green flames infused with holy light surged upward from the earth itself, swallowing everything. The fire devoured the flesh, bone, and its corruption.
Every ounce of meat burned away until nothing remained but the snake, writhing madly as it shrieked in its death throes.
And then even that dissolved, burning to nothing beneath the light and shadow that answered me.
“You can rest along with your patron.”
I closed my eyes in the direction of my attack, letting the silence after the abomination’s death breathe through me. When they snapped open again, my gaze locked on the silver-haired Fallen staring at me.
Shock painted his face, and I could smell his fear.
Good.
From the corner of my eye, I caught someone moving. A white-armored figure I didn’t recognize was using the chaos to lunge at Kokabiel.
Serafall was already shifting, magic circling around her fingers as her attention snapped toward Satanael.
“No,” I said flatly.
My gaze cut to her, “He is mine.”
The words carried weight.
She froze mid-step. Her shoulders tensed, the circle in her hands blinking as if to attack me… then she stopped, silent.
She only nodded once and turned away, though the tension rolling off her shoulders betrayed her unease. Not that I cared at the moment.
Satanael’s hands clenched hard around the cursed spear.
His silence broke, even if I wouldn’t hear it well through his clenched teeth, “Who are you?”
I met his eyes without hesitation, making his knees buckle, “Inside, you already know.”
His snarl was the only answer I got before he lunged.
Durindana rose to meet him, my wings snapping, tendrils exploding outward. The battlefield lit up as every strike from the spear clashing against my blade shook the air, my light burning brighter and brighter with every exchange. My shadows lashed at him from every angle, forcing him to twist, parry, and stumble.
Steel and light screamed in unison. A sound so loud I saw some of the rabble covering their ears.
He swung for my chest with a sneer. I caught it, locked him for a heartbeat, then froze the ground beneath his legs. Ice snapped up his shins, anchoring him in place just long enough.
Durindana flared and slashed wide, tearing through feathers and flesh. Two of his wings hit the ground in a spray of blood and dying light.
Satanael’s scream split the night, but I didn’t stop.
"You don't deserve this light."
I pressed harder, my strikes raining down without a second between them against him.
He staggered back under the weight, trying to keep his cursed spear between us as my tendrils drove at him from every direction, cutting, binding, tearing through his shields faster than he could raise them. His magic surged as he tried to break free, his movements filling with desperation.
A magic circle flared beneath his feet as he tried to escape.
“Not after what you have done, boy.”
Blue fire snapped from my hand, burning across the circle, shattering it into nothing. His eyes widened a fraction just before my shadows tore free from the ground, impaling his legs and pinning him where he stood.
Blood poured down his thighs as Durindana roared once more, and with another brutal swing, I carved through his back, severing more wings.
The fight raged on, blow after blow, until even Satanael’s fury couldn’t mask the truth… he was weakening, kingly gaze working overtime. Each strike I landed shook more out of him, every parry was slower, every counter more desperate. His cursed spear screamed as it met Durindana, light and darkness fighting for regency under the sky.
I roared, channeling everything through my body, into my arm… then into the spear. Aetherius surged like a flood, enough that the very air split under its weight.
Just this time… I wanted to hurt.
Even the devils froze where they stood, their spells faltering and their hair standing on alarm. Every Fallen, every human, every creature on the battlefield turned stiff under the suffocating pressure.
With a single swing, Durindana fell.
And the corruption lost. Just as I had decreed.
The cursed spear cracked like glass before shattering into fragments of black flame, annihilated utterly. Satanael’s scream tore free as his hand split apart with it, blood raining as he dropped to the ground in a heap.
I walked toward him.
He tried to crawl back, but my hand clamped around his throat and hauled him off the ground.
"No, no, no, no, no, no..." He muttered alarmedly seeing my cold eyes.
His body thrashed, his legs kicking as his wings twitched pitifully. My wings stretched behind me, tendrils spiraling like drills, and with one motion, they stabbed his back.
The sound was sickening, and it filled me with more wicked satisfaction than I should have felt. The ripping of his flesh, the crunch of bone, the shriek of a troubled soul. His last remaining wings tore free, shredded from his back as his body convulsed in my grip.
I lifted him higher, forcing him to meet my eyes, then let him drop.
Durindana flashed once more. In a single, merciless arc, I carved him apart. His legs, his arms, his head… all gone in less than a heartbeat, his body reduced to fragments before they even hit the ground.
The sun above roared in answer, light burning softly as the remnants disintegrated, erased entirely.
Nothing remained but a single fragment of him… his despair-wracked face, still screaming as the tear tracks dried under the heat.
I caught it by the hair before it touched the ground.
And held it there.
“I am the Messiah, Satanael... and this was my judgment.”
Serafall PoV
Later.
Kokabiel hit the ground with a wet crunch, his wingless body twitching uselessly where the White Dragon Emperor had thrown him.
Serafall stood still, watching. Not Kokabiel, not even the horror-filled head thrown in front of the very meek prisoners. No, nothing mattered as much as Elias.
He wasn’t glowing anymore. Not blazing like he had when he burned down the mountain or when he reduced Satanael to nothing but a screaming face. His magic… that impossible, terrifying magic that usually didn’t harm her kind was coiled tightly inside him, restrained so thoroughly that, at a glance, he looked almost ordinary.
Almost. But if you could see through it? You would know what kind of monster he was shaping up to be.
Serafall was not feeling that confident against the barely legal cutie, and that was saying something.
She narrowed her eyes as he walked through the battered remnants of the fight. Hugging one girl, kissing another, then patting the nun’s head before fists bumping Sairaorg, who was still shaking from adrenaline.
Smiling as if he hadn’t just shattered the night with a power that even she had never felt... Ever. Not in potency, obviously, but in weight.
It was jarring. Knowing that he was a single decision away from becoming the Antichrist of the devils, as amusing as that thought was.
The same hands that had burned a sacred beast clean, that had torn Satanael apart like he was nothing, now ruffled hair and steadied trembling shoulders.
Serafall could almost believe he was just a boy again. But her instincts screamed the truth… no mere boy could do what he’d just done.
Watching as Akeno threw herself against the Messiah, crying and staining his pristine robe of snot, with him smiling softly as he caressed her back and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, Serafall sighed.
It was… something else. But his relationship with the young devils was calming her… somewhat.
She folded her arms with a neutral expression, though her shoulders remained tense. The world had changed tonight, and the others were too caught up in relief to see it. Elias Black wasn’t just another magician, or even just another person to keep an eye on. He was something far more dangerous.
And Serafall intended to figure out what that meant before anyone else did. Because they would.
Kokabiel’s broken body hadn’t stopped twitching when the sky tore again.
Light cut across the battlefield, harsh and blinding, and Serafall’s instincts sharpened at once. An angel descended, armored and crowned with the weight of Heaven’s authority. His holy power was already prickling her skin as she looked at him, everyone else preparing for battle again.
It was so different from Elias's light…
Uriel. His wings shone stark against the ruins below, and his gaze was anything but merciful.
“What is the meaning of this, Devil King Serafall?!” His voice rolled like thunder, “Why was Metatron’s name almost erased from my Father’s book? How dare you work with the Fallen against Heaven? Do you know what this…”
“Silence.”
The word wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t even loud. Elias said it as if he were commenting on the weather.
Yet... it carried like a strike, and Uriel faltered mid-sentence. The authority in his tone left the battlefield still. Even Serafall, who had stood among gods, felt the command thread down her spine as the sharpness of his eyes returned.
Uriel looked at Elias in shock, but his voice failed him. To be honest, everyone did.
Serafall studied Elias from the corner of her eye. He wasn’t flaring with power anymore. His magic was still locked tight, hidden deep… but that calm control weighed heavier than magic ever could. Not if you saw what he was capable of.
And Serafall wondered if she, as a devil, could feel it; what did the Seraphs see when they glanced at him?
And then Metatron moved.
The archangel, battered and scarred but alive, dropped to one knee before Elias, bowing his head. The deep gash on his chest remaining, a stark reminder of what would have happened to him if Elias was not here. A reminder of him almost losing Heaven's blessing.
Uriel opened his mouth to shout, but no words came out.
Metatron’s voice carried a clear, firm tone, full of veneration. “Elias… Thank you. For your mercy. For giving me back what is most precious to me.”
A ripple passed through everyone witnessing the scene, as they saw someone so old and so important prostrating in front of a relative unknown.
Elias only frowned, his voice edging on detachment, “Do not silence your exorcists for knowing the truth. If they doubt, let them. If they choose to leave your Church, let them. You have no right to chain them.”
His eyes flicked over the humans who looked at him, and it was clear they did not know how to act in front of him.
His glare softened a fair bit. “Faith means nothing if it isn’t free.”
Metatron bowed lower, his voice humbled as he replied softly, “As you say.”
Elias smiled at him, “And Metatron… You are welcome. Spread your light as you should have done in the past.”
And then Elias moved again.
His third eye opened faintly, shimmering as he turned toward Kokabiel’s still body. Serafall tensed instantly, magic coiling inside her veins. He was going to kill him. After Satanael, after everything, he was going to finish the job.
But Elias only glanced at her.
That pressure from before was gone, his aura still coiled, yet her heart skipped a beat anyway.
She froze as he approached the twitching Fallen, Durindana fading from his hand. He crouched, patted Kokabiel’s body once, and pulled a small blue stone from the inside of his robes.
A holy factor.
Iris stepped forward, her hand clenching in anger at something only she, and perhaps Elias, could see. Her deathly aura unfurled as she connected with the stone.
Black threads of magic laced into it, coaxing it with love. And then it answered.
Figures shimmered into being above the battlefield.
Kiba gasped a sharp, broken sound. He staggered forward as the spectral shapes of some children materialized, their faces pale but clear, their voices trembling but filled with conviction.
“You grew… We’re glad, Isaiah.”
Kiba’s hand covered his mouth as his eyes reddened. They spoke of the holy sword project, of the experiments, of their deaths, of what they endured.
Words he had never thought he would hear again, words that didn’t accuse him from surviving when they did not, but soothed. Each word was a stone thrown against the Angels and exorcists present.
They told him they were proud of him. That he had survived. That he had carried their pain when they could not. And then they told him to let go, that the weight was never his alone to bear.
Kiba choked, his knees threatening to give, and Rias stepped forward, steadying him with a hand. But his eyes never left the ghosts.
Serafall’s throat tightened despite herself. She remembered the first time she saw the broken kid all those years ago. The depressed child with so much hate that went into his training, his anger coiled inside in a facsimile of knighthood. But… that was before.
The figures shimmered as they began fading into their deserved rest. They turned to Iris as they said gratefully, “Thank you… for giving us this moment.”
Then they were gone.
Kiba stood in silence, trembling, hugged by Rias and her peerage. But there was peace in his face now.
Serafall folded her arms, watching him. Yes. That was his closure.
The silence stretched until Xenovia stepped forward, her voice firm though her hands trembled. “I… cannot stay.”
Every gaze turned to her. She swallowed, gripping her blade tighter, but she didn’t flinch under Uriel’s anger and Metatron's sadness, “I cannot serve an order that hides the truth, that silences us, that treats faith as a leash instead of a gift. If this is heresy… then so be it. But I will not return to the Church.”
Her words cut through the air.
Irina was crying, but she was gentle as she replied, “I understand, Xenovia. I can’t say I don’t have my doubts,” she said, throwing a look at Elias before looking at the angels, “But… I believe I can help change the Church from the inside. I will grow stronger and make sure nothing like this happens ever again.”
The two exorcists hugged, cried, and smiled as they gave each other some much-needed support, and behind them, Serafall saw Metatron grabbing Uriel’s arm tightly enough to make him wince as he opened his mouth and murmured against his ears harshly.
Xenovia smiled, giving Irina Excalibur Destruction, “Take it, and I hope to see you again in the future, Irina.”
Irina rubbed her eyes with a sad smile as she nodded, walking towards the pair of angels.
Serafall exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking back to Elias. He looked so normal…
But she couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore.
A Messiah had revealed himself tonight, and the world would never be the same.
Comments
Iori Daemona Angel
You made my day with that comment lol
Bishop7053
Clearly the only solution is to be the recipient of messianic backshots. Purely for diplomatic reasons, not just cause shes discovered what scarousal is
