"Welcome, my friends!" Azazel opened his arms to greet the two who emerged from the planes.
Yet no one acknowledged Azazel's enthusiasm. Falling Star sidestepped a few paces to avoid Azazel's embrace and asked, "Was the plan a success?"
Azazel lifted his chin proudly. "Of course, it was all a ruse, a ploy to divide their forces. We've slain Saint Laurence, who possessed the resilience of a cockroach, but regrettably, that little wench Terial—apologies, Valis, I don't mean to insult her—escaped. Regardless, whether she seeks to avenge her husband or to capture the traitor, she'll surely return with a more formidable force. Therefore, we must do something to confuse our pursuers and ease our path."
To sow confusion among their pursuers, Azazel split the group in three, each fleeing in a different direction. A week later, using his new summoning ability, Azazel called his two subordinates to his side. In an instant, they crossed the spatial distance and reunited. The enemy would either lose their trail—best-case scenario if they all pursued Valis—or divide their forces. Either way, their strength would be diluted, buying more time for the quartet. Azazel was quite fond of his little scheme, but not everyone shared his sentiment.
Valis was dismissive. "You're wasting your time. I told you, even if Terial wanted to pursue us, it would take an eternity. I know all too well how Mount Celestia operates. She must first pen a profound reflection on her failure, then express deep remorse for fleeing alone, before finally submitting a request for vengeance and pursuit. That report, along with a feasibility study and outcome analysis, must pass through multiple approvals before a 'pursuit team' is dispatched. By then, the Blood War might be over."
"Oh, is that so? Seven Hells, bureaucracy is terrifying," Azazel remarked with a sigh.
"Exactly why I'm beginning to detest that place," Valis agreed with a nod.
"In fact..." The little devil Ganzaleth hesitated before speaking, encouraged by Azazel's nod, "the truth is that Heaven and Hell are similar in this respect. They're riddled with countless laws and rules and suffer from severe bureaucratic rot, sometimes even worse than Mount Celestia. If you don't want to be bound by these rules, there's only one way."
"What's that?" Azazel inquired.
Ganzaleth pointed upward. "Climb higher, keep climbing until you become the one who makes the rules."
"That's why I'm growing fonder of Hell. At least there, you can climb up the ranks by sheer ability, eliminating any obstacles in your path. But in Mount Celestia, it's not the same. Sometimes I feel like I was born in the wrong place. Thinking back on my past life, I realize how horrifying it was. Do you know what a terrible place Heaven is? I found a green acorn there once and had to turn it over to the authorities," Valis rambled on.
Azazel interrupted Valis, "Wait, wait a second, Valis. Haven't you noticed any changes in yourself?"
"What changes? Nothing much. If anything, the wounds on my back have healed, and new wings have grown in."
"What! They've actually grown back!" Azazel's face showed sheer astonishment, his mouth agape wide enough to fit an egg. "They're not chicken wings; how is that possible!"
Falling Star hurried over to inspect Valis's back, correcting Azazel's mistake, "Chicken wings don't grow back if they're cut off. But look, they really are growing back, so small and cute, though the color..."
"Didn't you say during the battle that wings would grow back if cut off?" Valis asked, puzzled.
"Don't move! I was just talking nonsense; how could I know they'd actually grow? It's incredible." Azazel steadied Valis, then joined Falling Star to examine the new wings.
The newborn angelic wings were still tender, with flesh-colored patches and only a few sparse feathers.
"The color is wrong, though. Why are they gray?"
The new feathers were no longer the pure white of an angel but had taken on a dusty gray hue.
"Forget it, stop looking. Gray feathers, huh?" Valis asked, turning around.
Azazel quickly reassured him, "Don't worry, gray can be quite fetching. And white gets dirty easily; it's hard to maintain."
"It's not about the color. It simply means I've fallen. To think, I, Valis, have become a Fallen Angel. What will I possess?" Valis extended his hand, forming a fist, feeling the power within.
"Speaking of which, aren't the feathers of a Fallen Angel supposed to be black? Or blood red? Why gray?" Falling Star questioned.
"Perhaps my fall wasn't complete. Enough about that. I didn't summon you all here just to chat. We should discuss our situation. Look there, do you see it?"
"A castle!?" Falling Star looked in the direction Azazel pointed, puzzled.
"Yes, a castle. Ganzaleth, it's your turn," Azazel gestured, and Ganzaleth, understanding, landed on a rock, standing before the group.
Behind Ganzaleth stood a massive fortress built of black stone, nestled against a mountain. Thick walls encircled the castle, bristling with spears, topped with heads that warned off any who dared approach with malice. A moat encircled the walls, and at each corner stood towering watchtowers and arrow slits. Within the walls lay the main keep, rising atop the mountain, its brown spire piercing the sky, a flag bearing a crossed sword fluttering at its peak.
"Behind me stands the Bloody Fortress," Ganzaleth began his theatrical introduction to the daunting castle. "You've likely never heard of it, and that's normal because it has never been in the public eye. The main reason is its remote location. If you were to travel by land from here to the center of the First Hell, the Bronze Fortress, even flying would take over three weeks. By water, it's just a day's journey (the River Styx is perfect for travel; no matter where in the lower planes you wish to go, it only takes a day). However, the river becomes tumultuous here, and most Stygian boatmen refuse this route. Of course, you might get lucky and find a confident boatman, but their fees are astronomical, almost as high as climbing Mount Everest. So, it's a remote fortress with no special resources, of no value. The lord of this castle was a fierce, terrible Pit Fiend, who built a large, terrifying, fully-equipped fortress that matched his status. Who would bother with this place? According to my investigations, not long ago, the lord of this castle answered the call to lead his family and servants to join the elite troops of the 'First Lord' Zariel at the frontlines of the Blood War. Now that Zariel has been defeated, that poor soul is buried somewhere in the multiverse, leaving this dreadful fortress empty."
Ganzaleth looked pleased with the rapt attention of his three listeners, pride evident as he continued, "Until the invasion from Heaven began. After flattening the Bronze Fortress, Heaven's forces didn't linger long in the First Hell. They continued their descent while dispatching patrol squads for mop-up and occupation. This empty fortress behind me was easily taken by a small force. Now, the only enemies worth mentioning inside are two Archangels and three Templar Knights; the rest are just human mercenaries, about a hundred in total. They're no match for me." Having finished his spiel, Ganzaleth bowed gracefully, then obediently sat down on the rock.
"So you want to take that castle?" Falling Star frowned. "That's insane. The enemy has a hundred strong and fortified walls for protection, and we are but four."