Jormungandr wasted no ti. He imdiately contacted Vlad through their A.I. Chips, sharing everything he had learned about the Devils from Sector 3 and, in return, hearing about the Demons Vlad’s group had encountered.
The information was troubling. As the exchange settled, the five True Depravitas and the Overlord wore solemn expressions. The journey, already perilous, had grown even more complicated. But there was no turning back now. Their mission demanded silence, patience, and cunning—gathering intelligence about the hidden Hell Portal while moving with the others toward the tomb of the Primordial God.
Two potential sites had already been uncovered. One was the sacrificial ground built in the shape of a pyramid, its stones still echoing with blood-soaked prayers. The other was a garden warped by so grotesque ritual, so corrupted that it twisted the local Laws, leaving behind lingering echoes of agony. These discoveries painted a picture of a Primordial God whose nature seed stranger and more contradictory with every step.
But the Devils, true to their kind, showed little interest in such mysteries. They cared only for the prize. Vlad and the other Depravitas found the shifts unsettling, yet there were more pressing matters. Using the positions of the pyramid and the garden, the Devils triangulated their path forward. Though their information was still incomplete, logic dictated the center of this realm would be the most important—the core, and almost certainly, the tomb.
As Sector 4’s forces advanced, the Demon Lord who had fought Vlad earlier soared through the burning skies. His wounds were still raw, yet his fury drove him forward until at last he located his destination. With his forces behind him, he descended.
The mont they reached the scorched ground, every Demon present bowed their heads, lowering themselves in reverence. The sight of a Demon Lord bowing would have shocked anyone, but the reason soon beca clear.
The one to whom they knelt was a towering figure who lood over them all, an embodint of destruction and unchallenged dominance. His body seed sculpted as a weapon of war—muscular, charred, and veined with molten fire that pulsed beneath cracked obsidian flesh. Massive black wings stretched wide, blotting out the burning sky, while his curled ram-like horns frad a sneer carved into his brutal face. His eyes blazed like molten coals, rciless and predatory. A jagged tail lashed behind him, cracking the earth, while claws glead sharp enough to rend steel like parchnt. From his chest radiated a fiery sigil, burning as though it were the very core of the Abyss itself.
"Lord Hajack," the defeated Demon Lord began, trembling as he spoke. "We discovered a sacrificial ground... and encountered Devils from Hell."
Hajack’s blazing gaze narrowed, and his first words cut like blades.
"Where are their corpses?"
The question made the wounded Demon Lord tremble harder. He hesitated, his silence betraying the truth. Hajack’s eyes turned to ice. His aura erupted like a volcanic storm, pressing down upon the kneeling Lord until his skull struck the ground with a sickening crack.
"Are you telling you were defeated?" Hajack’s voice was calm, but each word was filled with lethal promise.
The Demon Lord could not stop his body from shaking. He knew all too well the cruelty of his master. Hajack had devoured Lords before for lesser failures.
But then, abruptly, the crushing pressure vanished. Confusion flickered across the Demon Lord’s features. Relief at survival began to stir in his chest, though it felt wrong. Hajack was not known for rcy.
He dared to raise his head—only to realize Hajack was no longer looking at him. The great titan’s burning eyes were locked on the horizon.
There, descending from the firmant, ca a figure so radiant it forced even the flas of the realm to dim. Divine power poured from him like an endless tide, filling the skies with holy brilliance.
He stood tall and terrible, armored in white and gold plate etched with sacred designs that glimred with radiant fire. His armor flowed seamlessly into robes, every surface glowing as if inscribed by suns. His face was partly shadowed beneath shining hair, expressionless yet filled with unshakable command.
Above his head burned a golden halo, not static but alive—flaring and shifting like a miniature star, its brilliance marking him as one chosen by the highest order of Heaven. Vast wings of purest white stretched behind him, each feather etched with living light, exuding purity and judgnt. Around him, the air itself shimred, releasing shards of radiant energy that fell like sparks of divine fire. He hovered amidst the clouds, borne not by gravity but by the will of Heaven itself.
"An Archangel..." Hajack’s voice was low, but his eyes sharpened as he spoke the words. The aura was unmistakable. This was no re angelic warrior, but one of Heaven’s overlords.
And he was not alone.
Beside the Archangel stood a being altogether different—an enigma wrapped in elegance and nace. He was tall and commanding, dressed in a refined black suit, the cut perfect, exuding an aura of aristocratic sophistication. A sharp waistcoat glead with silver chains and a jeweled brooch, small touches of luxury that only emphasized the dread he exuded. His face was hidden behind a bone-white mask etched with crimson markings, giving him an alien, inhuman quality. From his head sprouted horns the color of blood, curling upward like a crown of defiance.
Behind him swayed a long scaled tail, its barbed tip glinting faintly in the firelight. His presence was neither devil nor demonic—sothing older, colder, and purer. Not chaos, not sin, not divine sanctity, but an essence that felt primordial.
Hajack’s frown deepened. His brutal instincts scread at him to attack, to crush this strange pairing before they could act. But his cunning side, honed by endless campaigns, held him back. This situation was too unusual. Two entities from utterly opposed realms—an Archangel and... whatever this masked figure was—standing together. Allies.
Hajack had lived long enough to know such paradoxes were never coincidences.
Yet his chance to probe further vanished in an instant.
The Archangel’s aura exploded outward. Golden light swallowed the sky, radiance pouring from his halo and wings until even the flas of the Sacred Realm seed weak in comparison. The chains that bound the heavens above trembled, glowing under the sheer force of divine presence.
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