The shimmer of the divine energy in the expanse of heavens around the Gates of Heaven Existence radiated a power that had protected the realms for eons. A symbol of Heaven's purity, the gates shone like a radiant wall that separated the holy from the fallen. And yet, before them stood this dark presence, his shadow stretching far across the heavenly landscape.
And Lucifer fixed his gaze upon the gates, the zeal of ambition in his eyes. The air was electric with tension, an almost tangible sense of anticipation before the storm. His heart raced with anger and conquest at the thought that this could be the turning point in the rebellion he had started. Heaven weighed down upon him, but it was that which whetted his resolve. The writ of fate on his forehead takes the war to Heaven's Gate and beyond.
Zarnasel stood beside him, no less commanding, a silent force that reverberated with Lucifer's ambition. Both had once been part of the greatest things in Heaven, yet now stood as its foes, foes of the very realms they had helped forge. Together, they were the vanguard of a great, innumerable army of fallen Angels gathered in their legions. Each had been divested of his holy grace, debased through rebellion. The waiting army was almost in a state of choking anticipation, their restless forms betraying an expectation of the imminent assault.
Lucifer's voice boomed across the assembly, keen as cut crystal. "The time is upon us. Today, we do more than break these gates. We push on, through Heaven, Higher Heaven, and into the very heart of True Heaven itself. No realm shall stand before us. The Throne of God shall be ours."
His words ignited the waiting host like a wildfire sweeping over arid forests. Zarnasel took another step forward, voice even and cold, joining his declaration to Lucifer: "We were once creators, builders of the cosmos. Today, we are its conquerors. These gates are but the beginning. Beyond them lies the power to reshape all that exists."
A murmur of assent swept through the ranks. Those angels that once were light were now grotesque shapes, distorted in form, alive in their armory as they readied for battle. This was no siege but a step to begin a campaign to shake the very foundations of creation. It was not at the Gates of Heaven they fought but beyond them. For the Throne, their eyes were set on, and nothing would stand in their way.
He gave one flat motion of his hand, and at that moment, the attack began. "Prepare yourselves," he shouted as his voice went through the ranks like thunder. The gates will fall, and the heavens will shake.
The succeeding silence was endless waiting. The armies were ready at the point of action, awaiting the moment when the whole of creation was to witness a rebellion unleashed. The first blow was imminent, and with it, the heavens were to shake.
With a single, unspoken signal from Lucifer, the corruption of the fallen Principalities was unleashed. The surrounding air darkened as they stepped forward, each one radiating a twisted power that had once been divine but now pulsed with darkness. Their forms bent under the weight of the evil they had embraced, and from their mouths, a cold wind began to blow—a chilling, unnatural force born of their corrupted God Skills.
The icy breath swirled into the heavens, growing in intensity with every passing second. Snow and frost coalesced into the tempest, howling with the fury of the fallen as it surged forward, an unstoppable force aimed directly at the gates of Heaven Existence. But even as the storm gathered, the frozen winds twisted into something more malevolent—massive ice spikes erupted from the ground, rising like jagged spears from the very earth. These gleaming spikes were sharp, immense, and infused with the same dark energy that had corrupted their creators.
The ice spikes surged forward with the tempest, their piercing edges hammering against the gates alongside the roaring wind. Each strike was a deadly combination of the cold and the brutal force of the spikes, which acted like siege weapons, battering the barrier of Heaven. The very ground trembled as the spikes tore through the sacred landscape, their rapid growth leaving trails of frozen devastation in their wake. Trees of divine light shattered upon contact, and the once-pristine fields were ripped apart, covered in a thick, unnatural frost.
Lucifer stood back, watching with satisfaction as the landscape shifted under the power of the attack. This was no ordinary assault. The ice wasn't just physical—it was a manifestation of their corruption, freezing not only the air but also the very essence of Heaven's purity. The massive ice spikes clawed at the gates, crashing into them with the force of a thousand storms, each strike more devastating than the last.
The radiant gates resisted their divine light holding firm for a brief moment. But as the relentless assault from both the tempest and the towering ice spikes continued, cracks began to form in the once-impenetrable barrier. The pressure mounted, the divine glow of the gates flickering as the ice storm found its way into the fractures, forcing its cold, destructive energy deep into the heart of Heaven's defenses.
Then, with a thunderous crash, the barrier gave way. The radiant gates shattered into countless shards of light, mixed with ice and frost, exploding outward as the force of the attack overwhelmed them. The sound of their collapse echoed through the heavens, a signal of the fall of Heaven's first defense. Shards of light rained down, dissolving into the frozen air as the swirling storm of corruption took their place.
The angels stationed at the gates, once vigilant protectors of Heaven, were caught in the destructive maelstrom. The cold rushed into them, freezing their radiant wings mid-flight. Weapons of divine fire fell from their hands, extinguished as the frost consumed them. The once-luminous forms of the cherubim and angels flickered and dimmed as their divine essence was smothered by the relentless cold. Some were struck down by the advancing ice spikes, their bodies shattered like fragile statues upon impact. In mere moments, they were frozen relics of what had once been Heaven's proud defenders.
The devastation spread far beyond the gates. The ice spikes continued to grow, massive and unforgiving, tearing through Heaven's sacred architecture. Towers of light crumbled as the spikes impaled them, shattering the structures into glittering debris that was quickly buried beneath the snow. The once-guarded entrance had been transformed into a frozen wasteland, a scene of utter desolation. Where there had been life and light, now there was only ice—ice that pulsed with the corruption of the fallen.
Lucifer stepped forward, a cruel smile playing across his lips as he surveyed the destruction. The sight of the fallen cherubim, the shattered gates, the towering ice spikes—it was all exactly as he had envisioned. His ambition had been set into motion, and the gates of Heaven had fallen to his will. "So begins the fall of Heaven," he murmured, his voice soft but full of malice. The words drifted through the frozen air like a dark prophecy, lingering in the silence left behind by the devastation.
Beside him, Zarnasel nodded in approval, his gaze sweeping over the ruins with a sense of grim satisfaction. "The path to Higher Heaven now lies open," he observed calmly. His voice, cold and calculating, echoed the certainty of their victory. "This is only the beginning."
Lucifer's gaze shifted toward the distant realms that awaited beyond the broken gates—Higher Heaven, True Heaven, and ultimately, the Throne of God. His army stirred behind him, eager to march forward, yet there was a brief, ominous stillness. The destruction they had unleashed upon Heaven was unprecedented, and at that moment of silence, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of the power they now wielded.
No angel, no barrier could withstand the force of their ambition. Heaven would fall, piece by piece, until even the Throne of God itself was within their grasp.
With a single motion, Lucifer signaled for the army to advance. The march toward Higher Heaven had begun, and there was no turning back.
The First Gates of Heavenly Existences lay in ruins, shards of divine light mingled with frost, the once-impenetrable barrier now nothing but a broken relic of what had been. In the aftermath of destruction, the cold, still air was suddenly pierced by a deep, resonant sound—the tolling of the Holy Giant Bells.
Crafted by the Great Archangels in times long past, these bells were unlike any earthly creation. Their sound was a divine symphony, ringing with a purity that resonated through every layer of Heavenly Existence. But now, as they echoed through the celestial expanse, their notes were filled with a sense of impending doom, a clarion call that sent a ripple of urgency and dread through all who heard it.
Each toll was a cry for help, a warning that danger had breached the gates. From the highest realms of Heavenly Existences down to its most distant reaches, the bells carried their message, vibrating through the radiant skies and stirring the hearts of every heavenly being. The sound reverberated off the great towers, across shimmering rivers of light, and through the majestic halls where the highest angels dwelled. It touched every corner of Heavenly Existence, from the cities of glory to the serene sanctuaries where peace had reigned for millennia.
The alarm had been sounded, and its meaning was unmistakable.
In the heavenly cities, angelic beings paused, their ethereal forms tensing as the weight of the bells' message sank in. From the cherubim who tended the sacred gardens to the mightiest archangels who stood closest to the divine light of the Creator, every being understood what those tolls meant. A grave threat had arrived—one that challenged the very foundations of Heavenly Existences itself.
Across the vast expanse of the celestial realms, angels began to stir, their movements swift and filled with purpose. Golden armor that had rested untouched for centuries was fastened with solemn determination. Swords of light, shields of purity, and divine weapons that had been sheathed in peace were now drawn, their glow illuminating the growing shadows of war. Wings unfolded, their radiance a stark contrast to the encroaching darkness, as angels prepared to ascend to the frontlines.
In the great halls of the highest orders of angels, those most esteemed in the celestial hierarchy gathered, their faces grim with understanding. They had known that a day like this might come, but none had expected the swiftness or the devastation that accompanied it. Orders were given swiftly, commanding the legions of Heavenly Existence to mobilize. From the lowest order to the Highest order of angels they would all fight—each playing their part in defending their home from the forces of corruption and evil that now threatened to engulf it.
Even the Thrones, those silent guardians who served as divine judges, descended from their lofty positions, their solemn forms casting long shadows across the ground. They had witnessed the fall of the gates, and now, they too would stand as the last line of defense, ready to face the enemy who had dared breach the sacred barriers of Heavenly Existences.
The entire celestial host was called to arms.
Above it all, the Holy Giant Bells continued to ring, each toll a reminder of the stakes that hung in the balance. Their sound, once so comforting, now carried a haunting resonance, a grim foreshadowing of the battle to come.
When the gates of the Heavenly Existence fell, Lucifer's legions surged in: a dark, twisted tide that poured into the gap. Their ranks stretched out to where the eye could see, a great army of Fallen Angels that once stood in the light but now only carried the weight of corruption and chaos. Now, these beautiful-and-glorious beings became harbingers of destruction, single-pointedly motivated by one overriding purpose: to eradicate all that was left of the world they once called home.
The strides of these charging beings swept them across the star-landscape, making it burn in a trail behind them. Fields of golden light, lush with ethereal flowers of beauty, shriveled up at their feet. As though the earth itself had been wracked with grief over its transformation, the essence of Heaven recoiled in utter despair. Brilliant gardens previously bathed in an unadulterated light took on a darker hue as shifting colors faded into ash and ruin. The sky, once an open canvas to brilliant light, darkened and thickened with the shadows of malice and fume from destruction.
Where once there had been peace, harmony, and light, now there was only war. The air grew thick with the smell of purity ablaze, and the once-vibrant colors of Heavenly Existence shifted into ominous shades of gray and black. The celestial plains were swallowed by complete darkness, and the normally beautiful heaven was now a battlefield of intense proportions that had never been seen. Where once there had been brilliant, shining stars and the glow of holy light, now storm clouds churned in-the skies reflecting an inner turmoil that had just now begun to unfold.
The Princes and Princesses of Darkness watched this from afar, perched atop clouds or cliffs, gazing down into the carnage below them with cold satisfaction. Their very presence alone seemed to warp the surrounding air, twisting reality with but a gaze. The Princes were encapsulations of the most malevolent aspect of evil, raw power exuding from their beings in mastery over some different form of darkness. The Princesses were terrors, their beauty a thing of twisted grace, while upon them lay an aura of dread that even the strongest among those fallen would do well to hesitate from.
Their eyes shone bright with eager anticipation, pleasured by the fall of the divine order. Smiling wistfully at the falling cities of heaven and the fading light, they gloated over the whole scene of Heaven's ruination-a sight which hitherto had not been conceived. Something new was forming; something dark would emerge, and they would be there to witness every moment of it.
Before all others stood Lucifer, his eyes aglow with triumph as he watched the panorama before him. This world of Heavenly Existence, once so spotless and clean, was now hinging unto his every will as it crumbled under his rebellion. His heart raced with the ecstasy of conquest, and even more fervently rose the ambition of that angel. Along with him stood Zarnasel, her eyes none less unwavering. The Great Archangel of Creation had fallen, his mind ablaze with their new reign in thought. And so they watched together, knowing this was only the beginning of things.
"There is no turning back now," Zarnasel whispered, the cold edge of certainty in every word.
Lucifer nodded, a dark smile spreading across his lips. "No," he agreed. "This world will be ours."
In their mind's eye, with every step forward, they envisioned the future—a Heavenly Existence transformed by their power, tyrannically ruled and Fearful. They saw themselves seated upon a twisted throne of darkness, commanding not only the heavens but the cosmos itself, reshaping creation to reflect their dark desires.
And the armies of evil overran, the Fallen Angels bursting through what was left of the light, as the Princes and Princesses of Darkness looked on from the shadows, exalting in this fall of all that once was good. The fight for Heavenly Existence had only just begun, and it would be a path into ruin, war, and darkness.
As the legions of darkness pressed deeper into Heaven's Existence, the devastation they left in their wake grew more profound. The Lower Princes and Princesses of Darkness, driven by an insatiable thirst for conquest, marched forward with their demon legions, each step further reducing the once-glorious realm to ruin. Golden towers, once symbols of Heaven's eternal majesty, crumbled under the relentless assault. The pristine white roads, which had once shimmered with divine light, were now marred by cracks and flames, their brilliance fading into the shadows.
Everywhere, the beauty and purity of Heaven's Existence were being erased. Cities that had stood for millennia, shining beacons of creation's glory, now lay in smoldering ruins. The invaders showed no mercy. What they couldn't destroy outright, they defiled, twisting Heaven's splendor into something grotesque, a mockery of its former self.
The Lower Princes and Princesses of Darkness led this relentless march, their cold eyes filled with lust for power. They reveled in the chaos, their dark forms casting shadows across the broken landscapes. The skies, once radiant with divine light, now burned with storms of fire and shadow, as the heavens themselves seemed to bleed under the weight of the invasion. Even the air was thick with corruption, a suffocating darkness that clung to everything it touched.
But the destruction did not stop at the lower realms of Heaven's Existence. As the forces of darkness swept upward, the realms of Higher Heaven Existence came under siege. The Lower Princes and Princesses, emboldened by the devastation they had already wrought, pushed their assault with ruthless precision. They destroyed the once-impenetrable gates that had guarded Higher Heaven, leaving the realm open to their fury. Where there had once been peace and radiance, there was now only battle and ruin. The divine glow that had filled the skies within Higher Heaven was now swallowed by swirling storms, the clash of light and dark reflecting the chaos below.
Yet, as hope seemed to dwindle, a radiant light descended upon the battlefield—the loyal Lower Archangels and Arch-Seraphs. With their wings of light and their divine weapons shimmering with power, they entered the fray, leading the remaining forces of Heaven's Existence against the onslaught. Their arrival sent a shockwave through the enemy ranks, momentarily halting the demonic assault as the tides of battle shifted.
With a mighty battle cry, these angelic warriors charged into the legions of darkness. Their swords, imbued with the purest light, clashed against the twisted weapons of the demons. Each swing of their blades cut through the thick veil of shadow, driving back the enemy with holy might. Light battled darkness in a brutal, epic struggle, as the forces of Heaven sought to reclaim what had been lost. Where their presence touched, the fallen lands flickered with renewed light, the very essence of creation rallying to their call.
But even as the Lower Archangels and Arch-Seraphs fought with all their might, the greater threat loomed on the horizon. At the Gates of True Heaven Existence, Lucifer and Zarnasel prepared to launch their final assault. Flanked by 109 High Princes of Darkness, including the fearsome Azriel and Astral—known for their unmatched malice and power—they stood before the last great stronghold of the Heavenly Existences. Behind them marched 1111 Princes and Princesses of Darkness, their twisted forms eager to join the siege.
But their true strength lay in the vast and terrifying force that followed: 10 quintillion Lower Princes and Princesses of Darkness, the most powerful of the fallen Lower Principalities, who surged forward like a tidal wave of chaos. These dark lords led legions of lesser demons, who poured across the battlefield with reckless abandon, smashing through the defenses of True Heaven Existence with terrifying ease.
Supporting this overwhelming invasion were the elite 200 quintillion High Powers, demons of immense strength and skill, who carved through the heavenly defenders with brutal efficiency. Behind them marched 300 quintillion Powers, enforcing the will of their commanders and spreading chaos in every direction. Together, this army of darkness unleashed an unimaginable fury upon the gates, ensuring that nothing would be spared from their corruption.
The Gates of True Heaven Existence, the last and strongest bastion of divine light, stood tall against the invasion, but even they began to tremble under the weight of the onslaught. The forces of light fought valiantly to hold the line, but the sheer scale of the invasion was staggering, threatening to overwhelm even the strongest of defenders.
Lucifer's eyes gleamed with triumph as he observed the chaos unfolding before him. "True Heaven will fall," he whispered to Zarnasel, his voice filled with dark satisfaction.
Zarnasel, standing at his side, nodded in agreement. "And once it does," he said coldly, "the entire cosmos will be ours to reshape."
Lucifer and Zarnasel stepped forward, their dark, majestic forms radiating power as they prepared to unleash their final strike. Black-crimson fire ignited around them, spiraling upwards into the skies like tendrils of pure destruction. With a single motion, they raised their arms, and a surge of black explosions erupted from their palms, sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
The Gates of True Heaven Existence—massive and reinforced with divine light for eons—began to crack. Their surface shimmered with the last remnants of divine protection, but it was no match for the combined might of Lucifer and Zarnasel. With a deafening roar, they channeled their dark power into one final attack. Black-crimson flames engulfed the gates, and with a tremendous explosion, they shattered. The fragments of the gates, burning with dark energy, shot outward with terrifying force, hurtling through the skies like meteors.
The broken gates, now twisted and engulfed in unholy fire, tore through the heavens, their trajectory set on the capital of Heavenly Existences. As they crashed toward the heart of the realm, they smashed into the once untouchable capital, tearing through its defenses like paper. The city, a beacon of eternal glory, trembled under the impact. Towers crumbled, and the streets cracked open, sending shockwaves through the fabric of Heavenly Existences itself.
With the Gates of True Heaven destroyed, the capital lay vulnerable to the overwhelming forces of darkness. Lucifer and Zarnasel gazed upon the wreckage with dark satisfaction, their eyes glowing with the knowledge that they had shattered the final barrier between them and total domination.
In the distance, the loyal forces of light now watched in horror as the gates fell, and the capital was breached. Despair rippled through their ranks as they realized the enormity of what had just transpired.
The siege had not merely begun—it was now entering its most devastating phase. True Heaven itself, the holiest and most protected of all Heavenly Existences, had been violated. With the destruction of the gates, the invasion surged forward with newfound ferocity. Lucifer's legions of darkness, emboldened by the fall of True Heaven's gates, poured into the capital, their ravenous hunger for destruction now fully unleashed.
The skies over the capital of heavenly existences known as Heavenly Jerusalem bled with streaks of fire and shadow, as the forces of Lucifer and Zarnasel clashed with the remaining defenders. Divine light flickered and waned, while the dark flames of the fallen surged higher, consuming everything in their path.
The end of an era was no longer on the horizon—it was here, and Heavenly Existences their selves would never be the same again.
The demonic forces combined shattered the Gates of True Heaven, which splintered under the incessant attack. What were once glorious barriers of divine light, a testament to Heaven's unyielding strength, crumbled into shards of glass as Lucifer, Zarnasel, and their elite forward pressed. With the fall of the gates, the great armies of darkness surged into the sacred realm in preparation for their claim on True Heaven and the Throne of God.
Upon the lofty heights of Heavenly Jerusalem, a foreboding terror trod in thick air. Michael and Gabriel stood side by side with Sarnel upon a balcony of the Palace of God, fixed as one to the horizon, where massed clouds darkly gathered-inauspicious shroud. The three had just been relieved from a council with the Almighty; notwithstanding, the weight of unspoken apprehensions clung to them, a feeling unshakable.
"It feels like a storm is about to brew," Michael whispered, and his keen eyes scrutinized the grim atmospheres. Once so bright and blemishless, the skies now stood under the heavy threat of encroaching darkness and dullness of the light under an ominous shadow. "Lucifer's ambition grows by day. We must prepare for what may come."
Gabriel nodded solemnly, his expression grave as he took in the unsettling signs around them. "The signs are all around us. The whispers of discontent grow louder. If we do not act swiftly, the very fabric of Heavenly Existences may unravel before us."
Sarnel leaned against the railing of the balcony, furrows deepening across his forehead. "I've felt a disturbance in the celestial order," he added after a moment, with a weightier tone of concern. "The harmony of Heavenly Existences falters. We should not go astray into chaos.
In a sudden instant, a great quake shook all of Heavenly Capital and sent ripples through the still air. Down below, the three Great Archangels glared at each other in alarm as their hearts began to pound in reaction to the shaking.
"What was that?.," Gabriel exclaimed sharply, whirling toward the Gates of True Heaven, and felt his breath suddenly catch in his throat as they saw something terrible: the gates were shattering, radiant barriers overcome by the tide of darkness which simply smothered them.
True Heaven was shattered, and upon the Great Archangels swept a chilling realization: the forces of darkness had breached their sacred walls-the battle for Heaven had begun.
"We can't wait any longer," Sarnel urged, his voice steady against the chaos unfolding around them. "We must gather our forces and defend the Gates of True Heaven. The fate of Heaven depends on our unity and strength."
"Let us call upon the Arch-Seraphs and the faithful Archangels," Michael ordered, determination in his voice. "We shall not permit Lucifer to take for himself that which rightfully belongs to Father. We are guardians of the light."
The clash between Heaven's defenders and the forces of Lucifer flared into an epic struggle for survival: shining streets, hitherto filled with hope, were smothered with shadows as demonic hordes poured into the heart of their holy capital.
We must hold the line!" he shouted, his voice rising clear above the din, drawing his sword, its blade alight with holy light. "For Light, for Heavenly Existences!
Gabriel and Sarnel joined him, hardening their hearts for what was to come. The Lower Archangels and Arch-Seraphs rallied, knowing well the Heavens depended on their shoulders. Then they surged forward, and there was the flash of wings unfolding, brilliant light to illuminate the encroaching darkness.
When the armies clashed, the energies crackled in the air, a fierce fight of light against dark. Explosions boomed through the battlefield in black and mixed with the shining bursts of angel power. Blazing flames of black crimson lit up the sky as the determined faces of the defenders fought valiantly, reclaiming their home.
The battle for the highest existence had begun, and though the darkness pressed heavily upon them, the defenders of Heaven stood resolute, spirits unyielding in the face of overwhelming odds. United, they were to fight for their sacred realm and fight to the end Lucifer reaching the Throne of God.
As the tremors of chaos echoed through the celestial realms, Sarnel, Michael, and Gabriel exchanged resolute glances. With the fate of the heavenly existences hanging in the balance, they felt the call of their half-true forms beckoning them to unleash their divine potential.
In unison, they stepped forward, channeling their inner strength. Blinding flashes of light erupted around them as they transformed, their half-true forms emerging like radiant beacons in the gathering darkness. The air shimmered with anticipation as they summoned their Transcendent Grade Weapons for the first time.
The existence of these weapons stemmed from a divine decree issued by God Himself, who foresaw the gathering darkness threatening the heavenly existences. He commanded His faithful servants, the entire heavenly host, to prepare for the inevitable confrontation with evil. In response, the most skilled smiths among the orders of Angels gathered, their expertise unparalleled in the realms of creation.
Guided by God's wisdom and imbued with celestial essence, these master craftsmen labored tirelessly, forging weapons that were not merely tools of war but extensions of their wielders' very souls. Each weapon was crafted with meticulous care, infused with divine power to ensure they would shine brightly in the darkest of times.
Sarnel grasped Aeternum Lumen, a magnificent katana that gleamed with an ethereal white light. Its shining blade radiated purity and celestial grace, while angelic wings unfurled between the blade and grip, symbolizing divine protection. Encircled by shimmering white and golden flames, Aeternum Lumen represented the eternal flame of righteousness, glowing vibrantly as Sarnel channeled its power. Beside it rested Draco Tenebris, a fierce katana with a striking black grip crowned with the head of a white dragon, its fierce gaze symbolizing strength and ferocity. The black blade bore white cracks, surrounded by swirling purple flames that pulsed with a dark allure. When summoned, Draco Tenebris embodied the primal power of the cosmos, awakening with a brilliant fury that commanded respect and fear alike.
Michael, resolute in his purpose, wielded the Aegis Sanctus, a magnificent shield that materialized at his call. Its surface is shimmered with celestial light, crafted from radiant silver and adorned with intricate engravings of protective symbols and celestial motifs. The edges sparkled with golden filigree, and when summoned, it emitted a soft, harmonious hum, empowering Michael and striking fear into his enemies. In his other hand, he held the Ignis Seraphicus, a breathtaking sword with a vibrant crimson blade flickering with golden flames that danced along its length. Wrapped in deep blue leather, its hilt was adorned with silver accents shaped like celestial wings. As Michael grasped it, the sword awakened with a fierce roar, its flames swirling in a mesmerizing pattern, each strike glowing with an intense light.
Gabriel stood ready with his Lumen Aetherius, a stunning double-bladed spear. Its shaft was crafted from luminous silver, adorned with celestial engravings that glinted in the dimming light. One blade, shorter and gleaming in deep azure, contrasted sharply with the longer blade, which shone a brilliant gold. When Gabriel wielded the spear, it resonated with ethereal energy, illuminating the encroaching darkness and cutting through shadows with precision.
With their half-true forms and Transcendent Grade Weapons at the ready, the three Great Archangels stood united, prepared to face the darkness that threatened their sacred home. The impending battle for True Heaven loomed on the horizon, and they would not falter in their duty to protect the Throne of God.
As the celestial and infernal forces prepared for the impending conflict, understanding their armaments became crucial. The hierarchy of weapons, distinguishing between good and evil beings, defined their effectiveness and purpose in the battle for existence.
At the pinnacle of weaponry are the Transcendent Grade weapons, wielded only by Transcending Spirits, humans, or other transcendent beings. These weapons surpass the Godly Grade in power, embodying the essence of creation itself. Each weapon resonates with the wielder's spirit, amplifying their innate abilities and connecting them to divine or dark forces. Only those chosen by the Creator or bound to darkness can harness their true potential, making them formidable tools in the hands of the worthy or the corrupt.
Below the Transcendent Grade lie the Godly Grade weapons, the most powerful armaments bestowed by the Creator or dark forces. These weapons can shape reality, bending the very fabric of existence to the will of their wielder. Often imbued with celestial or infernal energies, they carry the weight of divine or cursed purpose, capable of altering the course of fate itself.
The Mythic Grade consists of ancient weapons of immense power tied to prophecies and legendary beings. These artifacts are steeped in history and lore, having been wielded by heroes, demigods, or dark champions in times long past. Mythic weapons hold the ability to alter the balance between good and evil, often emerging at pivotal moments in the eternal struggle between light and darkness.
Profane and Holy Grade weapons serve as instruments of chaos and destruction, designed to unleash havoc upon the world, often wielded by evil beings. In contrast, Holy Grade weapons channel divine wrath against dark entities, serving as righteous instruments in the fight against malevolence. Each category embodies the duality of creation, reflecting the balance of light and darkness.
Dread and Divine Grade weapons instill terror in the hearts of their foes, acting as conduits of fear and despair, often favored by evil beings. Divine Grade weapons, imbued with celestial essence, protect the innocent and smite evil with unwavering force, representing the protective aspect of good.
The Corrupted and Virtuous Grade weapons affect the morality of their wielders, whispering dark temptations and leading them down a path of ruin. Conversely, Virtuous Grade weapons embody justice, inspiring courage and resilience against the encroaching darkness. They serve as symbols of hope, urging their bearers to rise against evil.
Cursed-grade weapons are imbued with dark energies, often corrupting those who dare to wield them. These weapons bring misfortune and despair, leaving trails of devastation in their wake. Conversely, Blessed Grade weapons are consecrated through divine rituals, offering protection and strength to their wielders. They shine with purity, serving as bastions against the forces of chaos.
At the base of this hierarchy lies the Mortal Grade, consisting of basic weapons created by humans. These armaments are widely available and lack any special properties, relying solely on the skill and strength of their wielders. While they may not possess the grandeur of their higher counterparts, in the hands of determined mortals, they can still achieve great deeds.
As the Great Archangels prepared for the clash ahead, they understood that the effectiveness of their weapons would not just depend on their craftsmanship but also the purity of their intent. With the hierarchy of weapons firmly established in their minds, they braced themselves for the monumental struggle against the forces of darkness, ready to defend the Gates of True Heaven and uphold the sanctity of existence itself.
As Sarnel, Gabriel, and Michael stood in their half-true forms, radiating the full majesty of their celestial power, a sinister force crept behind them. The air grew thick with malevolence, an unsettling chill settling over the radiant balcony. Without warning, Lucifer soared from the shadows, his dark wings unfurling with a grace that belied the darkness he embodied.
He flew effortlessly behind them, the weight of his presence distorting the very air around him. As he approached, the ground beneath him shuddered slightly upon his landing, the stone of the balcony vibrating as if sensing the gravity of his arrival. With a calculated poise, he stood tall, a shadow among the light, as he turned to face the three angels.
With a sardonic smile, Lucifer addressed them. "Greetings, my brothers. The view is lovely, isn't it?" His voice was calm, almost mocking, as he gazed upon the infinite expanse before them.
Gabriel, filled with a righteous fury that shook the very heavens, responded his voice like rolling thunder. "Helel! What is the meaning of this? How dare you show yourself here!" His wings flared with divine light, and his spear trembled in his hand as he barely contained his rage.
Lucifer's smile faded into a sneer of disgust, his eyes narrowing at Gabriel. "Know your place, Gabriel," he hissed with venom in his tone. "You are nothing more than an inferno creature, born of light but bound to burn out."
With a flick of his wrist, Lucifer unleashed multiple sickle-shaped blades forged from the very essence of darkness itself. The blades cut through the air with deadly precision, a manifestation of evil unlike any the Beings had seen before—these were not skills born from their realm, but something much darker.
Before Gabriel could react, Sarnel had already stepped forward, his gleaming katanas, Aeternum Lumen, and Draco Tenebris, shimmering in the light. With effortless precision, Sarnel deflected the dark blades away from Gabriel, sending them scattering into the void. His eyes narrowed at Lucifer, unfazed by the display of power.
Lucifer, now grinning again, stepped closer. "My name is no longer Helel," he said coldly. "I am Lucifer, the one destined to overthrow our Father and take His throne."
The three Beings felt the weight of those words, but before they could respond, another presence suddenly materialized behind them, a pulse of dark energy sweeping over the balcony. It was Zarnasel.
Without giving Sarnel or Gabriel a moment to react, Zarnasel thrust his hand forward, sending them spiraling through a massive portal that appeared behind them. The portal was lined with darkness, and as they disappeared, Zarnasel's sinister laughter echoed behind them.
Turning to Michael, Zarnasel's voice dripped with mockery. "See you later, Michael. If you're still alive by then." With that, he vanished into the swirling abyss.
Michael, now standing alone with Lucifer, clenched his fists as he faced his fallen brother. His expression was solemn, filled with both sorrow and determination. "So it's true," Michael said, his voice soft but filled with grief. "You are the one who betrayed us, brother."
Lucifer's grin returned as he twirled his giant, deformed scythe, the void-like weapon emanating an overwhelming darkness. It was a Transcendent Grade weapon, forged from the very essence of the abyss, a twisted reflection of the celestial light they once shared. It was named Umbra Maledictus. "Indeed I am, Michael. And I offer you a chance—join me. Share in my triumph over our Father and all those who blindly serve Him."
Michael's gaze hardened, his grip tightening on Ignis Seraphicus, its crimson blade igniting with divine flames. "I shall not betray the Lord of Lords, our Father and Creator. I serve Him with all my being, as should you."
Lucifer's smile faded into a cold, murderous stare. "What a pity. It seems I'll have to kill you, then... you maggot."
With those words, the two Beings clashed, their weapons meeting in an explosion of light and darkness that reverberated throughout the realms. The first strike cracked the ground beneath them, and the entire balcony collapsed under the sheer force of their blows.
The angels witnessing the battle could barely comprehend the speed of their movements—Lucifer and Michael were faster than time itself. Each strike sent shockwaves through the Heavenly Existences, their power far beyond mortal or immortal understanding. Every blow they exchanged seemed to tear at the very essence of creation itself, a fierce duel between brothers turned enemies.
Lucifer's scythe slashed through the air like a void, devouring all light in its path, while Michael's flaming sword danced with divine brilliance, cutting through the darkness with unmatched precision. Their battle was a cosmic clash of ultimate forces—light against darkness, loyalty against rebellion.
Yet, even amidst the chaos of the fight, Michael's resolve remained firm. He knew that no matter how far Lucifer had fallen, he would not falter in his duty to defend the Creator and all that was good. Lucifer, however, fought with a fierce hunger, consumed by his desire to dethrone the very being that gave him life.
The battle had only just begun, echoing the age-old conflict between light and dark, as the very fabric of existence trembled in anticipation of the cataclysmic events that were about to unfold. The fate of the heavenly realms hinged on this clash of titans, where love and betrayal collided.
After Sarnel and Gabriel are transported by Zarnasel's Portal Skill, they find themselves before Sarnel's Castle, a magnificent structure perched beside the largest and most breathtaking ocean in the Heavenly Existences—known as The Abyss of Everlasting Covenant. The shimmering waters stretch infinitely, reflecting the beauty of the divine realm. But beauty quickly gives way to tension as Zarnasel's dark intent sharpens. He immediately locks on Gabriel, recognizing him as the weaker of the two and eager to eliminate him first. Just as Zarnasel prepares to strike, Sarnel steps in, shielding Gabriel with a fierce resolve.
Zarnasel, visibly frustrated and scowling, tightens his grip around one of his great katanas, the blade gleaming with malice. He lunges forward, attempting to sever Sarnel's weapon with a calculated swing. Still, Sarnel meets the attack head-on, deflecting it with a powerful clash that rips shockwaves across the ocean's surface. Zarnasel then dashes back slightly, a sinister smirk curling his lips. "How annoying," he sneers, venom lacing his voice. "I was hoping to kill Gabriel quickly so we could have more fun, Sarnel."
Despite the golden blindfold concealing Sarnel's eyes, the fury emanating from him is palpable, his aura crackling with intensity. "Gabriel," he commands, his voice steady and relentless, "return to Michael and stop Lucifer. I will face Zarnasel alone; I won't hold back." Gabriel, his spirit ablaze with anger and determination, nods in agreement. "Alright, Sarnel. I trust you to end this swiftly. May our Father bless you with victory." With a surge of near-omnipresent energy, Gabriel propels himself into the air, streaking towards the Heavenly Capital, Jerusalem, and its sacred walls.
As Zarnasel watches Gabriel ascend, his expression darkens. "Oh no, you don't," he growls, his voice a low rumble of impending chaos. He activates his evil god skill, Azorath, Lord of Z'man Ra the Weaver of Despair—a power that grants him near-total control over time, twisted and corrupted by the darkest forces of the universe. The air around him thickens with dread as he freezes the flow of time in his vicinity, creating an inescapable barrier of stilled moments. Within this abyss of time, all movement ceases, and despair festers like a rotting wound. Zarnasel's malevolent presence warps reality, instilling a deep-seated sense of doom as his enemies are cursed with rapid aging and haunted by the specters of their past failures.
But in a dazzling display of speed, Gabriel shatters the suffocating grip of Azorath, breaking free from the dark influence and continuing on his flight. Zarnasel's growl of annoyance echoes across the water as he shifts his full attention back to Sarnel.
"Now then," Zarnasel taunts, his wicked grin spreading, "it's just you and me."
With a flourish, he raises his Transcendent-grade weapons, the Dreadfangs of the Void—two oversized katanas, each shrouded in a swirling void-like aura. One blade crackles with chaotic energy, its jagged edge a testament to the very corruption of creation. In a heartbeat, Zarnasel lunges at Sarnel, the dark energy surging through him. Sarnel, however, is ready; he raises his weapon, blocking the strike. The force of their clash sends a shockwave through the ocean, creating a surge of water that crashes against the shore.
As they momentarily retreat from each other, Zarnasel blitzes forward again, his speed a blur. In an instant, he aims for a killing blow, his blade slicing downward to cleave Sarnel's body in half. The strike lands with a devastating impact, leaving Sarnel staggering from the ferocity of the blow.
The battle escalates, their godly-level skills colliding in an epic symphony of destruction. Each clash of their blades sends ripples through the fabric of existence, illuminating the dark waters with flashes of energy. The two warriors draw upon their divine powers, their weapons dancing through the air, unleashing torrents of force with every strike as the struggle between brothers intensifies into a cataclysmic duel, echoing across the Abyss of Everlasting Covenant.
Zarnasel then dashes forward with a surge of dark energy, his oversized katana glinting ominously in the light of the Abyss of Everlasting Covenant. Sarnel instinctively raises his weapon, a flash of steel meeting a blackened blade in a cataclysmic clash that reverberates across the water's surface. The impact sends shockwaves rippling outward, creating waves that crash violently against the shores of the vast ocean, distorting the serene beauty of their surroundings.
Regaining his footing, Zarnasel pulls back slightly, calculating his next move. In a split second, he launches himself forward again, his speed unfathomable. Sarnel, caught off guard by the sheer ferocity of his brother's assault, barely has time to react. The world around them blurs as Zarnasel aims to cleave Sarnel's body vertically, a strike imbued with dark intent.
The blade connects with devastating precision, slicing through the air with an eerie grace, marking a moment that will linger long after the clash has faded. The struggle between light and dark intensifies as the waters beneath them churn violently, reflecting the turmoil of their battle.
Zarnasel, still reeling from his brother's unexpected resilience, allows a triumphant smile to cross his face as he begins to walk away, convinced that he has claimed victory. But just as he turns his back, the waters beneath him erupt with golden chains, ensnaring him in their divine grip. Startled, he glances over his shoulder, only to hear a calm yet powerful voice resonating behind him.
"Oi, Brother, did you think you could kill me that easily? That was a foolish oversight on your part, though I must thank you…" Sarnel declares, standing tall amidst the chaos, his voice a harmonious blend of authority and calm.
Zarnasel's eyes widen in disbelief as he struggles against the shimmering chains, their golden hue a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding him. The realization dawns on him as Sarnel continues, "… You have cut my bandage blindfold, meaning you have broken the seal that only allowed me to use 20% of my true power."
As Sarnel speaks, the severed golden blindfold drifts gracefully from the remnants of its binding, cascading through the air before gently settling upon the tumultuous waters below him. At that moment, the atmosphere shifts, and the very fabric of reality quakes in anticipation. Sarnel's eyes now gleam with a fierce brilliance. His piercing golden iris shimmers like molten gold, framed by vibrant flecks of green and blue swirling near his pupils. Ethereal white lines, reminiscent of lightning, crackle around his pupils, adding an otherworldly allure. In serious moments, his eyes ignite with fierce intensity, transforming into a mesmerizing blaze of golden and green fire, drawing others into their captivating depths.
Suddenly, chaos erupts across The Abyss of Everlasting Covenant, a storm born from Sarnel's unleashed aura. Uncountable storms swirl above the ocean, darkening the skies with ominous clouds that pulse with raw energy. Immense blue and white lightning strikes thunderously crash into the ocean's surface, illuminating the night with blinding brilliance. The air crackles and hums with power as fiery and black tornadoes spiral violently across the waters, their ferocity so immense that the towering waves they generate threaten to obliterate countless universes in an instant. Each thunderclap reverberates through the fabric of existence, a harbinger of the cataclysm that looms ahead.
"This ocean was born from the chaos of creation itself," Sarnel states, his voice echoing powerfully against the tempest. "It knows the weight of our conflict. It will not let you escape unscathed!"
This was no ordinary ocean; The Abyss of Everlasting Covenant had been forged by God Himself, purified with His holy, beyond-absolute power. It was born from the Primordial Chaotic Waters, the essence of creation itself, pushed aside when the Spiritual World and the Physical World were brought into existence. What lay beneath the surface was the Nothingness, the Primordial Waters of The Deep Dark—an expanse where time and reality itself ceased to exist.
As Sarnel stood unfazed, the unleashed power of his aura rippled through the tumultuous waters, manifesting in the storms and raging waves that threatened to annihilate all. Shockwaves spread across the ocean, radiating outward with a force capable of pushing back even the mightiest of transcendent beings. The waves roared like an awakening titan, crashing relentlessly against one another, a cacophony of primal energy unleashed.
"I will no longer be a mere shadow," Sarnel proclaims, his voice rising above the storm. "You may have struck me, but you awakened the true power within me!"
With the seal lifted, Sarnel felt the torrent of his true power swirling just beneath the surface, a raging tempest ready to be unleashed. The air trembled with his newfound aura, and with it came a sense of ancient strength, as though the ocean itself responded to his call. The surrounding chaos mirrored the battle within, reflecting the struggle between light and dark, brother against brother.
Zarnasel still ensnared but refusing to succumb to despair, gritted his teeth and glared at Sarnel, realizing that the true fight was only just beginning. "You think this power makes you invincible?" he snarls, his voice dripping with disdain. "I will tear you apart, brother, and reign supreme over this realm!"
Sarnel smirks, unfazed by Zarnasel's words. "If you can even catch me," he retorts, a challenge laced within his tone. "Prepare yourself, for the tides of battle have turned."
With a surge of energy, Sarnel breaks the chains that once bound him, and as he does, the ocean trembles beneath his feet. Massive waves rise like colossi, crashing together with a roar that could be heard across the cosmos. The chaos escalates, lighting the sky with a brilliance that could blind even the most steadfast of souls.
Zarnasel, sensing the shift in power, steadies himself. "You may have gained a sliver of strength, but you are still no match for the darkness I command!" He summons the full might of his own dark aura, merging it with his intentions. Shadows coalesce around him, twisting and writhing as he prepares to unleash his full potential.
At this moment, the battlefield becomes a reflection of their conflict—one steeped in the struggle between divine light and dark ambition. The brothers stood poised on the brink of an epic clash, their destinies entwined as the fate of their world hung precariously in the balance. The Abyss of Everlasting Covenant was ready to witness a confrontation that would echo through the annals of existence itself, as both brothers stood on the cusp of their full power, the air thick with the promise of devastation.
With the ocean and skies as their battleground, the impending clash of their nearly limitless powers hung in the air, a storm of fate waiting to be unleashed.
Fueled by unbridled anger, Zarnasel prepares to dash forward again, his intent clear: he aims to cleave Sarnel in half. But as he lunges, he halts, taken aback by the sight before him. Tears stream down Sarnel's face, glistening like precious gems against the backdrop of chaos.
"Why, Zarnasel? Why did you betray us? Why did it have to be you?" Sarnel's voice trembles, a mixture of sorrow and disbelief.
Zarnasel's lips curl into a mocking smirk, his cold eyes glinting with malice. "Why not? I'm tired of living in the shadows of gods. With Lucifer, I will take over and ascend to heights beyond even the True God Himself. We will be the new rulers of existence, and those like you will bow before us. You're just a pawn in a game you can't even comprehend."
Sarnel's heart sinks, realization dawning upon him. "I see. That's enough." Without hesitation, he ushers toward Zarnasel, speed-blitzing him in an instant.
Zarnasel barely manages to block the incoming strike, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through the air. But in the split second of defense, Zarnasel counters with a fierce swing of his katana, aiming for Sarnel's exposed flank.
Just as Zarnasel lunges forward again, Sarnel vanishes from his position, his form a fleeting shadow. "Now that the seal is no more, I can stop playing games," Sarnel declares, his voice resonating with newfound strength that ripples through the chaos surrounding them.
Zarnasel, pivoting quickly to strike, meets the full force of Sarnel's fist colliding against his jaw. The impact reverberates through him, momentarily disorienting him. Before he can recover, Sarnel's magnificent wings slice through the air, delivering another punishing blow that sends Zarnasel hurtling through the air, crashing violently against a massive wave that looms like a mountain before dragging him into the ocean's depths.
As the cold water envelops him, Sarnel seizes the opportunity. With a fluid gesture, he taps into his mastery of water manipulation, summoning a swirling prison of water that encases Zarnasel. The liquid glimmers with radiant light, and with a flick of his wrist, it ignites into a series of explosive steam bursts. Zarnasel screams as the searing heat engulfs him, scalding his wings and inflicting significant damage. One of his wings is particularly affected, the dark feathers singed and smoking, rendering it almost useless.
Quickly, Zarnasel draws upon his immense dark energy, a wellspring of power that surges within him. He channels it into his body, rapidly healing his injuries. With a furious roar, he ignites his oversized katanas—the Dreadfangs of the Void—in blazing black fire, the flames twisting and writhing like living shadows. He swings them with deadly intent, aiming for Sarnel's heart, but Sarnel dodges just in time. Nevertheless, the attack grazes his side, leaving a trail of burning pain that flares in response to the dark fire.
Sarnel, undeterred, retaliates with his technique, Divine Covenant Style: 2nd Aspect - Radiant Valor. In an instant, he becomes a beacon of blinding light, overwhelming strength, and precision coursing through him. "Feel the purity of my resolve!" he declares, his voice echoing with divine authority. With a mighty swing, he aims to strike Zarnasel, unleashing a devastating blow capable of cleaving through universes with the searing flames of white fire.
Zarnasel, sensing the imminent threat, swings his katanas in a desperate defensive motion, but Sarnel's strike connects with brutal force. The radiant blade slices through Zarnasel's two wings and his arm, igniting a torrent of agony. Zarnasel screams, a sound laced with horror and pain, as the white fire sears deep into his essence—especially devastating against beings of evil. The attack's force reverberates through the surrounding ocean, splitting the waters as waves surge violently. The air shimmers with heat, igniting from the residual white fire, leaving a blazing line of destruction that cuts through the atmosphere, an indelible mark of Sarnel's power.
As the once calm waters of The Abyss of Everlasting Covenant now roar and hiss, creating an ominous symphony of chaos, Zarnasel feels the weight of his suffering intensify. He musters his Healing and Absorption skills, battling against the relentless white fire that refuses to be extinguished by conventional means. Despite his efforts, the flames cling to him, searing his very being. With three out of his eight wings now damaged and burned, rage consumes him, igniting a transformation that shifts the very air around him.
In a moment of horrifying metamorphosis, Zarnasel taps into his true potential, evolving into his second most powerful fallen form, later known as The King of Darkness. He presents a chilling visage: his skin becomes pale white, the stark contrast highlighting the dark energy radiating from him. His shining white teeth reveal two prominent fangs, a menacing smile creeping across his face as he unfurls his eight deformed black wings, their dark feathers billowing ominously. Clad in dark robes that cling to his chiseled physique, accentuating his visible abs, he prepares to unleash the full extent of his dark power.
"Prepare yourself, Sarnel," Zarnasel growls, his voice low and filled with an unholy resonance. "You have awakened a darkness that even you cannot comprehend."
Sarnel meets his brother's gaze, unwavering despite the chilling transformation before him. "You may have transformed, Zarnasel, but I will not falter. Your darkness will be your undoing!" he retorts, determination shining in his golden eyes, now ablaze with the fires of battle.
With a clash of power that shakes the very foundation of their realm, Zarnasel and Sarnel stand poised at the precipice of annihilation. The ocean rages around them, mirroring the tumult within their hearts, as the brothers prepare for an epic confrontation that will echo through the ages—a battle not just for victory, but for the very soul of their existence.
Zarnasel, now in his second true form, exuded an aura of malice, his strength nearly matching Sarnel's half-awakened true form. His transformation was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The once turbulent ocean beneath them now churned in response to their immense power, as if the sea itself was protesting the clash of these two beings.
With a cold smirk, Zarnasel let out a chilling laugh that echoed across the watery battlefield. His eyes, glowing with dark energy, locked onto Sarnel, who struggled to conceal his unease.
"You look uneasy, brother," Zarnasel mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Have you finally realized how hopeless your resistance is?"
Sarnel clenched his jaw, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his celestial katana. The tension between the brothers was palpable, and even the ocean seemed to hold its breath.
"What's so funny, impostor?" Sarnel growled though the dread gnawing at him was evident. His resolve was unshaken, but the growing power of Zarnasel was undeniable.
Zarnasel's smirk widened into a cruel grin. Darkness swirled around him as his Dreadfangs pulsed with ominous power. "You've only tasted a fraction of my true strength. Now, let me show you what it means to fall into the abyss!"
He raised his Dreadfangs and slashed at the air. "Voidfang Covenant: The Dark Arts, 8th Aspect—Abyssal Rift!"
Reality itself began to tear apart. Massive rifts opened in the air, unleashing tendrils of black energy. The water erupted violently, waves crashing in all directions as the demonic power tore through the fabric of existence. Tendrils of darkness shot toward Sarnel, each carrying the intent to devour him completely.
Sarnel barely had time to react. The demonic energy wrapped around his legs and torso, tightening like chains. The pressure was immense, and for a moment, Sarnel's body trembled beneath the weight of Zarnasel's attack. The air was thick with hostility, and the entire battlefield seemed to darken under the influence of Zarnasel's growing power.
But Sarnel had not yet reached his limits. Closing his eyes, he tapped into the deepest recesses of his divine essence. Instantly, he activated his God skill: King of Nothingness, Rikot. Reality itself began to bend to his will as the ocean around him burst outward in an explosion, creating a void. Within this nothingness, Sarnel transcended all existence, concept, and dimension, becoming untouchable—even to those who transcended dimensions themselves.
Tapping into one of the strongest aspects of his God skill, Sarnel entered the state of Beyond-All-Existence. The ocean, which had exploded outward, surged in all directions, sending titanic waves across the battlefield. In the center of this chaos, the void of nothingness consumed everything near Sarnel. The tendrils of Zarnasel's dark energy disintegrated upon contact with the void, unable to touch Sarnel's form.
As the waves roared and crashed, lightning erupted from the void, streaking across the ocean's surface. The sudden burst of light illuminated the battlefield with such intensity that it blinded Zarnasel momentarily. He grunted in frustration, shielding his eyes from the brilliant display.
Taking advantage of the brief disorientation, Sarnel appeared behind his brother, moving faster than the eye could follow. With precision, he drove his celestial katana into Zarnasel's side. The blade crackled with divine energy as it sank deep into his flesh, sending shockwaves through the water.
Not pausing, Sarnel summoned his power and transformed the nearest wave into an impenetrable wall of solid energy. With a swift, powerful kick, Sarnel sent Zarnasel flying toward the transformed wave. The impact was immediate and brutal—Zarnasel crashed into the solidified wave with such force that a groan of pain escaped his lips. His body, though resilient, felt the crushing blow as blood seeped from the cracks forming along his deformed wings.
The solidified wave, weakened by the impact, shattered into dust. But within a heartbeat, the ocean reclaimed its form, the dust swirling back into a liquid as the wave returned to the water. The battlefield shifted again, and the once-rigid wall of energy was now fluid once more, churning and crashing as though nothing had happened.
Zarnasel, though bleeding and injured, stood back up, his regeneration already beginning to repair the damage. Despite his wounds healing, the pain from the previous blow lingered, slowing his recovery. "You'll pay for that," he snarled, his voice laced with fury. He summoned a dark, swirling fire in his hand—a strange, shifting flame that pulsed with ominous energy.
With a flick of his wrist, Zarnasel hurled the dark fire toward Sarnel. Mid-flight, the fire transformed into sharp, crystalline branches, each one glowing with dark, malevolent energy. They tore through the air and pierced Sarnel's stomach, their searing heat igniting his flesh.
Sarnel grunted in pain, but his divine essence allowed him to resist the worst of the attack. Even as the fiery branches dug into his body, he broke them with sheer force and retaliated swiftly. His celestial katana flared with purple flames, mirroring the destructive energy of Zarnasel's attack. With a single, graceful motion, Sarnel slashed at Zarnasel, sending a wave of burning purple energy toward him.
The clash between the two warriors reached new heights. Their movements were a blur, their strikes shaking the battlefield as if the very ocean trembled beneath their power. Every swing of Sarnel's katana was met with the fierce counter of Zarnasel's Dreadfangs. The clashing of their weapons sent shockwaves rippling across the surface of the water, their power colliding in a storm of divine and demonic energy.
Though their regeneration slowed the rate of healing, the battle's intensity continued to mount. Injuries were inflicted on both sides, but neither combatant would fall easily. The ocean beneath them roared in defiance, the sky crackled with lightning, and the storm of their power raged on. The battle between Sarnel and Zarnasel was far from over—their rivalry would push them to the very edge of annihilation.
After a relentless exchange of blows, Zarnasel could no longer deny that the tide of battle was not shifting in his favor. His frustration boiled over into desperation. With a bold decision, he called upon his legions of fallen angels. The sky split open, and from the countless rifts in the fabric of reality, dark figures poured out. These fallen angels, once radiant beings, were now twisted into forms reflecting their corruption, their dark wings spread wide as they descended upon the battlefield.
Their presence cast a shadow over the ocean's surface, the sheer number of them creating a vortex of chaos that enveloped the battlefield. Zarnasel hoped that the distraction and overwhelming numbers would allow him to gain the upper hand against Sarnel. If his fallen brethren could create enough confusion, maybe he could finally turn the tide of battle.
In response, Sarnel didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed with resolve as he called upon his forces. From beneath the water's depths, his angelic host emerged. Their pristine wings shimmered, catching the ambient light as they rose from the ocean, while others descended from the heavens, golden light trailing behind them. More still materialized from radiant portals, each angel a beacon of purity amidst the encroaching darkness. But Sarnel was cautious. He ordered his angels to spread out, keeping them away from the heart of his duel with Zarnasel, knowing the catastrophic power that their clash would unleash.
The battlefield erupted into chaos. Angels and fallen angels collided in the air and on the surface of the water. The clash of their powers created a storm of light and darkness, illuminating the ocean in bursts of divine and demonic energy. Explosions of power sent shockwaves through the waves, yet Sarnel and Zarnasel remained focused on each other, even as the surrounding forces battled to death.
Elsewhere, Gabriel pressed onward through the infinite layers of existence, his heart heavy with an unshakable unease. He should have reached the capital by now, where Michael was fighting against Lucifer. Yet something was wrong. He could feel it—a subtle force slowing his advance, warping the very fabric of reality around him.
An insidious sensation gnawed at Gabriel's senses, as though the air itself had become tainted by a malevolent presence. The cosmic balance was shifting, and the energy surrounding him hinted at a darkness far greater than what he had anticipated. Finally, it clicked. Gabriel was ensnared in an illusion, a trap crafted by a powerful God Skill designed to distort his sense of time and space.
Determined to break free, Gabriel unleashed his God Skill: Foresight's Embrace, Chochmah, which allowed him to perceive the true nature of the trap. With a focused pulse of divine energy, he sent out a powerful shockwave, shattering the surrounding illusion. The false reality crumbled away, revealing the grim battlefield that lay beneath.
As Gabriel's eyes adjusted, he took in the scene before him. Angels and fallen angels were locked in a brutal conflict, their forms blurring in the chaos. And at the center of it all stood Beelzebub, one of the Highest Princes of Darkness. He moved through the carnage with terrifying ease, effortlessly eliminating any angel that dared to challenge him.
A mocking grin spread across Beelzebub's face as he noticed Gabriel's arrival. "Well, well, if it isn't the great Archangel Gabriel!" he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Finally decided to join the fun?"
Without a word, Gabriel responded with a surge of divine energy. He invoked his Celestial Lancer style: 8th Aspect—Starlight Spear. In a flash, Gabriel hurled a spear of concentrated starlight at Beelzebub. The spear traveled with blinding speed, exploding upon impact. The brilliance of the starlight illuminated the battlefield, disorienting fallen angels and sending shockwaves that disrupted their movements.
Beelzebub barely dodged the attack, but the light seared part of his flesh, causing him to snarl in frustration. His eyes glowed with hatred as he retaliated, summoning his Gluttonous Claw Strikes. His massive hands, dripping with blood that seemed to hunger for Gabriel's essence, slashed through the air with terrifying speed. But Gabriel was unfazed, gracefully dodging the attacks with calculated precision.
As Beelzebub pressed his assault, Gabriel invoked the 3rd Aspect: Celestial Cleave. With a powerful overhead swing of his dual-bladed spear, Gabriel unleashed a massive arc of energy, cutting through Beelzebub's blood attacks and reducing them to a fine crimson mist. The strike was so precise and powerful that it nicked Beelzebub's shoulder, forcing the Prince of Darkness to take a step back.
"Is that all you have?" Beelzebub growled, his voice dripping with irritation. "Hiding behind your barriers like a coward only prolongs your suffering! Come, face me head-on if you dare!"
Gabriel knew better than to be baited by Beelzebub's taunts. The Prince of Darkness was trying to goad him into making a reckless move, but Gabriel remained composed. The battle between them erupted into a flurry of long-range strikes and brutal close-quarters combat. Each exchange sent ripples through the battlefield, the clashing of light and dark manifesting in the very essence of the cosmos.
Thanks to Gabriel's Foresight's Embrace, he was able to anticipate Beelzebub's moves before they landed. This divine perception granted him a significant edge, but Beelzebub wasn't easily dissuaded. The Highest Prince of Darkness tapped into his arsenal of skills, manipulating probability itself to tilt the odds in his favor.
In one brutal strike, Beelzebub managed to slash across Gabriel's face, cutting one of his eyes. The pain was sharp, and for a moment, Gabriel was disoriented, blood streaming down his face. But his resolve only hardened. Channeling his rage, Gabriel countered with a powerful, precise strike, severing two of Beelzebub's wings in a single motion.
Beelzebub let out a roar of agony, struggling to maintain his flight as dark energy poured from his wounded wings. Though he was already beginning to regenerate, the damage was evident. His wings appeared twisted and deformed, a grotesque testament to the power of Gabriel's strike.
As the blood continued to drip from his wings, Beelzebub snarled, refusing to yield. He felt the regenerative magic coursing through him, slowly mending his injuries, yet the deformations lingered as a reminder of his pain.
With the tide of battle shifting, both combatants stood their ground, battered and bloodied but unyielding. The echoes of their struggle reverberated across the battlefield, the clashing of light and dark manifesting in the very essence of the cosmos.
The battlefield lay thick with smoke and chaos after the relentless clash between Beelzebub and Gabriel. Each combatant maneuvered through the debris of their titanic struggle, a dance of power that threatened to tear reality itself apart. Despite the wounds he had sustained, Beelzebub suddenly flashed a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with a malevolent light as if reveling in the chaos surrounding him.
From the swirling smoke, a new figure emerged, cutting through the haze with an aura of dark authority: Astral, Beelzebub's right-hand man. More than just a fellow fallen angel, Astral was regarded by Beelzebub as both brother and nephew, a kindred spirit drawn irresistibly to the shadows.
Standing tall at six feet, Astral commanded attention with an imposing presence, his long, flowing white hair cascading down his back like a silken waterfall, framing features that exuded both beauty and danger. His piercing red eyes, vibrant and intense, seemed to hold ancient knowledge and a hint of menace. Clad in an elegant black formal outfit tailored to perfection, he wore a sleek black tie, adding an air of sophistication to his dark ensemble.
Majestically unfurling behind him were six magnificent dragon wings, each a deep, glossy black that shimmered subtly in the dim light, evoking both strength and ferocity. These wings radiated an aura of power, suggesting grace intertwined with latent danger.
In his hands, Astral wielded two formidable swords, identical in design. Each featured a stunning grip of white and gold, intricately crafted to convey regal authority. The blades, sleek and pure black, were bisected by a striking red line that ran down their centers. When summoned, they glowed with a brilliant white light, illuminating their surroundings and adding an otherworldly aura to their lethal elegance. This radiant energy hinted at the immense power contained within the weapons, a testament to Astral's formidable prowess.
The sight of Astral commanded attention, heralding chaos and destruction that left no doubt as to his allegiance. Beelzebub welcomed him with open arms, his grin widening. "Welcome, Astral," he proclaimed, his voice laced with malice. "It seems our friend here has underestimated the depths of our power."
Astral nodded, his expression focused and intense. "Shall we show him what true darkness looks like?" he replied, the chilling promise in his tone echoing across the battlefield.
In unison, the two fell upon Gabriel, their movements synchronized as they unleashed their formidable skills. Beelzebub charged forward, his claws poised to strike with malevolent intent, while Astral flanked him, swords drawn and ready. The air crackled with dark energy as they closed in, a lethal duet of malevolence intent on overpowering him.
Gabriel, sensing the shift in the tide, steeled himself for the incoming onslaught. He felt the weight of their combined darkness pressing against him, a palpable force that threatened to engulf him. Drawing upon his divine essence, he prepared to retaliate, his resolve burning brightly against the encroaching shadows.
Yet Beelzebub and Astral were relentless. With every swing of their weapons, they aimed to overwhelm Gabriel, their attacks imbued with an intensity that sought to shatter his defenses. The clashing of light and dark echoed through the battlefield, each strike a testament to their unwavering commitment to their dark cause.
As the chaos raged on, Gabriel's eyes narrowed, focusing on the pair before him. He recognized that this confrontation was not merely a clash of strength; it was a trial of wills, where darkness sought to extinguish the light. With determination fueling his spirit, Gabriel prepared to unleash his celestial might against the impending storm, ready to fight for the balance of the cosmos.
The battlefield thrummed with energy, the fate of their world hanging in the balance as the three powerful beings stood on the brink of annihilation or salvation.
The battle raged on, an intense clash between light and darkness, as Gabriel faced Beelzebub with unwavering resolve. The air crackled with electricity, smoke swirling chaotically around them, each strike echoing like thunder across the battlefield. Beelzebub's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You believe you can stop us, Gabriel? The darkness has never been stronger."
As the fight escalated, Beelzebub unleashed his fearsome Evil God Skill, Beelzeboúl, Deity of Gluttony: Gluttony's Wrath. A devastating wave of gluttonous energy surged forth, obliterating everything in its path. The power consumed both physical and spiritual entities alike, feeding Beelzebub's strength with each annihilation. The air shimmered with the remnants of destruction, entire sections of the surrounding layers reduced to nothingness.
Meanwhile, Astral activated his own sinister God Skill, Azathoth, Deity of Void Tohu: Reality Warp. The very fabric of space and time twisted at his command, creating surreal distortions across the battlefield. Terrain shifted unnaturally, barriers sprang into existence to absorb Gabriel's attacks, and even time itself seemed to bend, granting Astral a terrifying advantage. The once-stable layers of existence appeared warped and fractured, mirroring the chaotic nature of their confrontation.
Despite the overwhelming onslaught, Gabriel remained undeterred. He had yet to unleash the full extent of his power. Utilizing at least 90% of his might, his presence alone sent tremors rippling through the surrounding layers. With a determined gesture, he raised his hand, activating one of his divine God Skills, HaElokim Warden of the Divine Light. A radiant, glowing armor of light encased him, shielding him from further harm. This divine armor shimmered brilliantly, a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness, a manifestation of his immense power in response to the encroaching evil.
With his divine armor in place, Gabriel launched a series of counterattacks. He struck Beelzebub directly with Cleansing Judgement, purging the demonic enhancements that fortified the Prince of Darkness while inflicting searing damage.
The battlefield trembled beneath Gabriel's might, the sheer intensity of his presence cracking the ground and sending ripples through the air. The destruction surrounding them intensified, transforming the once beautiful landscape into a wasteland. Crumbled structures and shattered barriers bore testament to the cataclysmic power of their clash. Reality itself warped, and the air crackled with energy as the three powerful beings continued to collide.
Yet Gabriel's resolve remained unshaken. Each blow that struck him only fueled his determination. He retaliated by summoning a Holy Firestorm, calling down a tempest of sacred flames from the heavens. Beelzebub and Astral deftly dodged and deflected many of the fiery torrents, but the flames still managed to scorch their forms, inflicting pain. Gabriel knew this was merely the prelude to something greater.
With unyielding calm, he activated Rebuke of Darkness, sending forth a shockwave that banished nearby dark entities and struck both Beelzebub and Astral with divine force. For a fleeting moment, the light of heaven surged, illuminating the battlefield with a radiant glow.
Finally, Gabriel employed Purging Radiance, marking Astral with a luminous aura that amplified the damage he would take from all attacks. Each swing of Gabriel's sword now bore the full weight of heavenly judgment, burning with righteous fury.
As the battle continued, the overwhelming auras of Gabriel, Beelzebub, and Astral radiated outward, creating an invisible barrier that pushed all angels and fallen angels away from the immediate conflict. The war between them still raged on, but the sheer intensity of their powers made it clear that any who dared approach too closely would meet certain death. The clash of light and darkness unfolded, the forces of heaven and hell colliding as the world around them trembled under their might.