Asmo realized the urgency of the situation as he felt the city descending into chaos. Without a moment to spare, he vanished from the bustling streets, reappearing in the dimly lit hotel room where Maria was staying. She was in the midst of dressing, her delicate form adorned in a flowing gown, unaware of the impending danger. Startled by his sudden appearance, she nearly let out a piercing scream before Asmo swiftly covered her mouth with his hand, his eyes reflecting a sense of urgency and concern.
With a sense of determination, Asmo enveloped Maria in a protective embrace, his touch conveying a mix of urgency and reassurance. In a flash, they were gone, leaving behind the chaos and uncertainty of the city. As they materialized in Maria's simple town in Italy, the serenity of the grassy plains provided a stark contrast to the turmoil they had left behind. Maria found herself standing amidst the tranquil beauty of her homeland, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and relief.
Meanwhile, Asmo reappeared in the hotel room, his chest ablaze with an otherworldly fire that seemed to emanate from within. The flames flickered and danced, casting an eerie glow upon his features as he staggered into the shower, seeking solace in the cascading water. The droplets fell like liquid diamonds, extinguishing the ethereal flames and leaving behind a sense of palpable tension in the air.
Exhausted and drained, Asmo emerged from the shower, his usually composed demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability. Collapsing onto the bed, he lay there in silence, the weight of his actions and the consequences of his divine lineage weighing heavily upon him. The fire that had consumed him was not merely a physical manifestation but a stark reminder of the divine protection that enveloped Maria, a protection granted by a force far greater than any he had encountered before.
He sat up on the bed as he received an incoming call.The tension in the room was palpable as Asmo's eyes narrowed at the incoming call, the display flickering with an ominous glow as the name "Satan" flashed across the screen. With a mixture of fury and vengefulness simmering within him, he accepted the call, his voice laced with an edge of raw emotion as he demanded to know Satan's whereabouts. The air crackled with unspoken animosity as they engaged in a tense, emotional banter, the weight of past grievances and unspoken conflicts hanging heavily between them.
As the conversation reached a fever pitch, Satan's chilling words cut through the air like a blade, informing Asmo that he was right at the door. In a swift and calculated motion, Asmo summoned his "Saber," a formidable weapon that served as the extension of his very being. The blade materialized, its form reminiscent of a dark, solidified storm cloud, crackling with an otherworldly energy that bespoke its deadly purpose.
With cautious determination, Asmo approached the door, his senses heightened and his every movement calculated. As he slowly and methodically pushed the door ajar, a sudden sense of unease gripped him. In a sudden, disorienting twist, Satan's presence materialized behind him, a cold and calculated smile playing upon his lips as he reveled in his ability to outmaneuver his adversary.
The tension in the room reached an unprecedented crescendo as Asmo, poised to confront Satan, found his actions thwarted by the sudden appearance of Lucifer, who restrained Asmo's Saber with an iron grip. The gravity of Lucifer's words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the lives lost at the hands of Satan, a chilling echo of the callous disregard for mortal existence that permeated the dark intentions of the fallen angels.
As Asmo feigned acquiescence, biding his time for another opportunity, the sudden intrusion of Baal, Belphegor, and Leviathan shattered the fragile calm, their presence a foreboding omen of the gathering storm. The air crackled with an unspoken tension as Asmo, now outnumbered and outmaneuvered, demanded an explanation for the unprecedented convergence of the six princes of hell upon the mortal realm.
Satan, reveling in his malevolent machinations, delivered a chilling revelation, laying bare the sinister truth lurking behind the facade of merriment and festivity. The 25th of December, a day revered for its significance as Christmas, the celebration of the birth of the divine, had been perverted into a grotesque commemoration of the fallen angels' own self-indulgent desires. This day, meant to herald hope and joy, had been twisted into a macabre birthday event for the fallen, a sinister charade that culminated in a nightmarish spectacle of bloodshed and suffering.
The revelation struck Asmo like a thunderbolt, the sickening realization dawning upon him that the wanton massacre of innocent lives was but a prelude to the depraved revelry that awaited. The echoes of history reverberated through the room, drawing a haunting parallel to the ancient atrocity orchestrated by King Herod, a despicable act committed in the pursuit of silencing the prophesied savior of the world.
In this twisted iteration, the innocent souls sacrificed at Satan's whim were but pawns in a sinister game, their lives callously extinguished in a grotesque bid to procure a single child who would, in the fallen angels' eyes, hold the power to shape the destiny of mortals and immortals alike.
The revelation unfurled like a dark tapestry, weaving a tale of malevolence and perversion, casting a pall of dread upon the fateful convergence of the fallen angels, and heralding the impending clash of darkness and divine will that would come to define the fate of worlds.
Asmo's mind reeled with the stark realization of the impending calamity, the weight of the world's impending doom pressing heavily upon him. "I can't believe this," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief and revulsion. "This year is going to be a nightmare for the world."
The chilling revelation that all six princes of Hell, save for Beelzebub, would be orchestrating this year's depraved spectacle sent a shiver down his spine, a foreboding omen of the unimaginable horrors that awaited. "All of them... this is beyond anything we've faced before," Asmo murmured, his voice heavy with dread.
His thoughts turned to the strange assailants with their crimson-gleaming eyes, a detail that now took on a sinister significance. "The thugs who attacked me... their eyes, they were like... like something out of a nightmare," he mused, a cold knot of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. "It was all Satan's doing, every bit of it."
As the weight of the impending horror bore down upon him, Asmo's thoughts turned to the gruesome fate of the deceased at his studio. "What about all the bodies at my studio? What will happen to them?" he asked, his voice laced with a grim urgency.
The prince of sloth's callous response sent a chill down his spine, a revelation that struck at the very core of his being. "Served at the Christmas feasts... for cannibalistic demons?" Asmo's voice trembled with a mix of horror and disbelief. "This is beyond madness."
Dismissively, he willed his Saber to fade away, seeking a private audience with Lucifer, the weight of their shared history and unspoken truths hanging heavily between them. "We need to talk," Asmo declared, his eyes reflecting a steely resolve as the gravity of the impending cataclysm settled over them like a shroud.
As they spoke in hushed tones, the gravity of the impending calamity weighing heavily upon them, Asmo's thoughts turned to Maria Ave, her very existence a beacon of light amidst the encroaching darkness. "Do they know about Maria Ave?" he asked, a note of urgency creeping into his voice.
The solemn reassurance from Lucifer brought a fleeting sense of relief, a whispered promise amidst the gathering storm. "She's safe... they're not here for her," Lucifer assured him, the weight of his words carrying the weight of a solemn oath.
As the specter of untold atrocities loomed large, Asmo found himself silently beseeching the divine for intervention, a desperate plea for the forces of light to intercede in the gathering tempest of darkness. "We need help," he murmured, his thoughts turning to the hope of salvation in the face of impending despair. "The Father Almighty, the Archangel Michael, anyone... we need someone to stop this madness."