As the space Leviathan—Lev—had conjured to trap both of them slowly unraveled, reality shifted back into its original hellish state. Gleren stood in silence, his gaze fixed on the radiant figure before him. His expression was a mixture of awe and bewilderment, though his eyes were drawn to one person in particular—Martha.
The angelic entity shielding her flapped its colossal wings with a steady rhythm, scattering trails of glittering gold dust into the air with every motion. Each shimmer lingered, casting a surreal glow against the crimson void of the demon's domain. Martha sat in the heart of the angel's chest, her face resolute and unyielding as her piercing eyes locked onto the hulking figure before her. She didn't even glance in Gleren's direction, so focused was she on the enemy looming ahead.
Gleren shifted his stance, his lips curving into a bemused smile. "She hasn't even noticed me yet. Typical."
Before them stood a demon of grotesque proportions—a monstrous beast standing twenty-five meters tall and fifteen meters long. Its bloated, pig-like body bristled with spiny red hackles that shimmered with a fiery glow, and two massive, gnarled horns jutted menacingly from its malformed head. The demon's fiery eyes glared at the angelic figure before it, radiating an unmistakable aura of rage and agitation.
In a hoarse, guttural voice that scraped like metal on stone, the demon bellowed, "Who are you, human?! Why have you come to my domain—Mammon's domain?!"
With a thunderous roar, the demon reared back, its massive front legs lifting off the ground as it prepared to crush the angel in a single devastating stomp. Yet, before its hooves could fall, the angel raised a hand, slow and deliberate, as if swatting away a bothersome fly. The demon froze mid-motion before being hurled backward, tumbling across the barren ground with a resounding crash.
Gleren blinked, taken aback. "What overwhelming strength…" he muttered under his breath. There was no dramatic technique, no intricate display of power—just a simple gesture, and the beast was sent sprawling.
Martha, encased within the angel, remained utterly expressionless. Her disinterest only served to further enrage the massive demon. It rose to its feet, its hackles standing on end as its rage boiled over.
"Don't make a fool out of me, human! I am a king! The great demon of Greed!" Mammon roared, his shriek shaking the ground and reverberating across the scarlet skies.
The deafening cry seemed to summon reinforcements, as the barren land quickly swarmed with movement. From every direction, minor demons began to converge, their grotesque forms scrambling across the scorched terrain. Hundreds, then thousands of them poured in, responding to their king's call.
"Wow." Leviathan's voice broke the silence beside Gleren. She had taken a seat nearby, her legs tucked under her, eyes wide as she stared at the scene. "That's... a lot of demons."
"No kidding," Gleren replied, his gaze fixed on the growing horde.
Yet Martha remained unfazed. Without a hint of hesitation, the angel spread its glowing wings, and with a mighty leap, it soared into the blood-red skies. In a blur of gold, Martha charged forward, her enormous blade carving through the oncoming wave of demons with brutal efficiency. Her strikes were raw and forceful, lacking in grace but undeniably devastating. Each swing of her blade sent clusters of demons hurtling to the ground, their bodies disintegrating into nothingness upon impact.
"I see," Gleren mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Fighting like that in an open area… yeah, that'd be a problem."
Lev tilted her head, curious. "What do you mean?"
"Look at her. She's all force, no finesse. If she ever went full power in a populated area, the place would be reduced to rubble. Not exactly a tactical genius, but she's undeniably strong."
Lev nodded, impressed. "She's super strong!"
"Right? Though, this is the first time I've seen her fight," Gleren admitted, his smile growing as he watched the scene unfold.
Above them, the sky darkened as demons took to the air, their sheer numbers creating a blackened swarm that threatened to blot out the golden light of the angel. Their strategy was clear—they intended to overwhelm her with sheer numbers.
But it didn't matter.
As the horde closed in, Martha moved with calculated precision, her blade slicing through the air with a brilliance that lit up the battlefield. One by one, the demons fell, their bodies raining down like ash. The few that managed to get close were met with a flurry of strikes from the angel's wings, which moved like blades of their own. It was a massacre, a one-sided slaughter that turned the once-imposing swarm into a pile of disintegrating bodies.
"Now that's an SSR Seraphim ability for you," Gleren remarked casually, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a jagged rock.
Lev looked at him, perplexed. "What's an SSR?"
"Never mind," Gleren said, waving her off. "Just enjoy the show."
Lev giggled. "She's kinda scary, isn't she?"
"Scary?" Gleren chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Nah. That's Martha for you. I'd be more scared of her teasing than her fighting."
Lev burst into laughter at the remark, and for a brief moment, Gleren allowed himself to relax. The battle was far from over, but he couldn't help but feel entertained by the spectacle before him.
Even as the chaos raged on, Gleren couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get even more interesting.
***
Watching Martha fight up close was… well, hard to believe. I mean, sure, I'd heard the stories, seen glimpses of her strength before. But seeing it now, right in front of me? It was something else.
"So, she was that strong, huh?" I muttered to myself. It made sense now—if she ever went on a rampage in an open area, there wouldn't be much of a world left standing when she was done. The sheer destruction she was capable of was overwhelming, and oddly… fascinating.
Still, my gaze wandered back to the humongous lump of meat—erm, I mean, Mammon. "By the way, what's the deal with that pig over there?" I asked, pointing at the towering demon, who, despite his size, was looking increasingly pitiful.
Lev gave me a disappointed look, the kind a teacher gives when their star pupil suddenly forgets how to spell their own name. "You don't know?" she asked incredulously.
I raised an eyebrow. "Does it look like I'd know every random demon in this infernal pit? Come on, enlighten me."
"That's Mammon," she said, rolling her eyes like it should've been obvious. "He's the King of this domain—a ruler of Greed."
"Hmm…" I nodded sagely. "I see." But then something clicked. "Wait. Didn't you say earlier that this place was your domain?"
Lev tilted her head, blinking at me like a confused puppy. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
"No, no, no!" I pressed, crossing my arms. "You definitely said it was your domain. Don't try to weasel out of this—think, Lev. Think!"
Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "Oh! Yeah, I did say that!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with embarrassment. She quickly pointed at a rough circle drawn on the ground behind us. "But I meant that! That's my domain."
I followed her finger, my jaw dropping in disbelief. The "domain" in question was a barely two-meter-wide circle etched into the dirt, looking like something a kid might scrawl with a stick. "You've got to be kidding me," I said, my voice tinged with equal parts amusement and exasperation.
Lev scratched her cheek, clearly embarrassed. "W-well…"
"No one in their right mind would call that a domain!" I exclaimed, throwing up my hands. "And you said you're the only one there?! Oh, now I get it. It all makes sense." I shook my head, chuckling dryly. "The demon who rules over envy, huh? I'd be envious too if my domain was literally nothing!"
Lev pouted, her cheeks puffing out in protest, but she didn't deny it. Meanwhile, the battlefield raged on. Or rather, it was wrapping up—Martha was cutting through the remaining demons like a hot knife through butter.
To think, three of those little guys had us rolling on the ground earlier. If Martha fought like this outside, we wouldn't have much to worry about. Still, my curiosity got the better of me. "By the way, is that pig-guy even strong?" I asked, jerking my thumb at Mammon.
Lev snorted, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Nah. He's just greedy. Strength isn't really his thing."
I stared at Mammon, who was still trembling as Martha approached. "So, if he didn't have his lackeys, he'd basically just be a giant ham roast?"
"Pretty much," Lev confirmed with a shrug.
Poor guy. Well, he'd provided some entertainment, at least. Why step in when it was already so one-sided?
Up above, the sky was nearly clear now, only a handful of demons still flitting around. Martha was relentless, her blade a blur as she dispatched the remaining threats.
***
Inside the battle, Martha's mind was consumed with hatred. Each swing of her sword was fueled by the memories of her past. "I hate them. I hate them!" she thought with every strike. The faces of her family flashed in her mind, followed by the man who had taken them away—someone who had borrowed the power of demons.
Her sister, Ruth, had been kind, compassionate, everything Martha wished she could be. And yet, Ruth was gone, stolen from her by a cruel twist of fate.
It wasn't fair.
Martha clenched her jaw, her hatred burning brighter. It didn't matter if it was irrational, didn't matter if these demons weren't the ones responsible. Her compassion had been buried long ago, smothered under the weight of her grief and anger.
She thought of Gleren for a brief moment, her feelings conflicting. Part of her hated him, the man with a power so eerily tied to the forces she despised. The demonic stones. But another part of his memories made her flinch…
No. She shook her head, banishing the thought. "I can't trust him. I can't trust anyone!"
Her wings, once pure and golden, were now streaked with black, stained by the blood of the countless demons she'd slaughtered. She tore through the final ranks, her movements as precise as they were brutal.
Across the battlefield, Mammon trembled. Anger, fear, and… something else flashed in his beady eyes. Greed, as always, dominated his thoughts.
"I want you," he hissed, his lips curling into a twisted grin. "Oh, how wonderful it would be to break you!"
Martha didn't flinch. Her disinterest cut through his rant like a knife.
"It's your turn next," she said coldly.
Raising her hand, the angelic entity surrounding her mirrored the motion. Its massive, luminous sword extended, glowing brighter as it lengthened. With one swift motion, she brought it down, cleaving Mammon in two before he even had a chance to react.
The demon's body fell apart, disintegrating into ash as the battle finally ended.
***
As the golden light of the angel faded, Martha descended slowly to the ground, her expression unreadable. She landed softly, her shoulders heaving with exhaustion. Yet, beneath the weariness, a fire raged within her—an unrelenting storm of hatred that refused to be extinguished.
Her fists clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at the ground. The stillness of the battlefield was suffocating, a silence that mocked her. It was over, but it wasn't enough.
"This… isn't enough," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with a venomous edge. Her breaths were shallow, each one labored as though her anger was suffocating her from within.
The faces of her family flashed in her mind—her mother, her father, and Ruth. Ruth, with her serene smile, her boundless kindness, her perfect self. The sister who had everything Martha lacked. The sister who should have lived.
"Why her?" Martha's voice cracked, her whisper growing louder, angrier. "Why did it have to be her?! Why not me?!"
Her teeth ground together, a sharp hiss escaping between them. Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren't soft, sorrowful tears. They burned hot with rage, with the bitterness of betrayal by the world itself. She wanted to scream, to tear apart everything around her until the universe itself answered for its cruelty.
"I'll never forgive them," she hissed, her voice low, dark. Her hatred wasn't just directed at the demons she'd slain but at the people who had wielded their demonic powers, at the twisted, unjust fate that had taken everything from her. But most of all, at herself. For surviving. For being the one left behind.
The blood on her wings, staining her once-golden glow, felt fitting. It was a mark of what she had become—an avenger, a destroyer, a woman consumed by vengeance so deeply that even her own humanity seemed like a distant memory.
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared into the void. "Mother, Father… Ruth… I'm so sorry I can't live as you wanted me to."
Her family's smiles haunted her, memories of their warmth clashing with the cold reality of her vengeance.
"I should've been the one to die," she whispered.
The tears that trickled down her cheeks were hot against her skin, yet they didn't soften her. Instead, they sharpened her, fueled her. Her hatred was a fortress, a shield she clung to with desperation.
"I'll make them pay. All of them," she growled, her voice a solemn vow. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, as if swearing it to herself and to the memory of her family.
Her aura darkened, a flicker of the divine twisted into something far more dangerous. The remnants of the angel's light around her seemed to pulse with her rage, a faint golden glow turning almost crimson as her hatred tainted even the sacred.
***
I watched her from a distance, Lev beside me, silent for once. Martha's pain was palpable, even from here.
Lev broke the silence. "What do we do with her?"
I crossed my arms, my tone dropping to a low murmur. "Good question."
My eyes stayed on Martha, standing alone amidst the carnage she had wrought. Her shoulders were shaking, but not with fear or exhaustion. It was anger—pure, unrelenting, and dangerous.
"Oh, what do we do with her?" I murmured, my tone unusually somber, my playful edge fading for a moment. Martha wasn't just angry; she was burning. And if we weren't careful, that fire would consume everything in its path, including herself.