[The Chamber of Scarlet Flas]
The room was quiet—too quiet. Laisa and Sarah sat in silence, their eyes locked on the flickering crimson flas dancing in the brazier. Suddenly, a black butterfly with glowing red veins fluttered through the air, its wings whispering with every flap.
Laisa stood, her expression tightening. "A Hell Butterfly... That ans soone's passing a ssage."
Sarah extended her hand gracefully, and the butterfly landed on her palm. She closed her eyes. A cold, commanding voice echoed from the butterfly:
"Lady Sarah and Aria have been declared missing from the Royal Palace. Additionally, an unusual event has taken place. Lord Azreal has ordered all Pillars to remain at their respective gates and for all other operations to continue. He will handle the situation personally. That is all."
The ssage ended, and the butterfly vanished into embers.
Sarah opened her eyes.
Laisa crossed her arms. "What does it an you and Aria are missing? And what's this unseen event Azreal is dealing with personally? Are you hiding sothing from , Sarah?"
Sarah flipped her hair, eyes gleaming with amusent. "So many questions, Laisa. If I start answering them now, there won't be ti to put our plan into motion. You do love Lord Azreal, don't you? We're doing this for him."
Laisa clenched her fan. "Of course I love him! I'd do anything for him, but—"
"But?" Sarah cut in sharply, her voice cold. "Where's that 'but' coming from? We're doing this for him. That's all."
Laisa hesitated. "I just don't think... Lord Azreal would approve of what we're planning."
Sarah's smile disappeared. Her gaze sharpened.
"Your love for him," she whispered in her mind, "that's the problem."
"Why are you staring at like that?" Laisa asked, suddenly uneasy.
Before she could react, the flas flickered violently. A shadow danced across the walls—threads lunged out of the darkness, stabbing into her form. Laisa gasped, her mouth open in horror, but no words ca. She collapsed.
A twisted laughter echoed through the chamber.
[The Confinent Layer – Below Hell]
Azreal stood tall, his long coat billowing as he faced the chained guards. His smirk held no kindness.
"You're doing all this for ?" He laughed bitterly. "No... don't mix your personal pleasure with your so-called loyalty."
His voice echoed like thunder in a cave.
"A revolution? Hell's revolution? No... this is your revolution."
He gently tapped one of the guards' faces.
Then he turned.
Aria lay slumped, still bound. Her skin was pale, breathing weak.
Azreal approached slowly, his crimson eyes glowing.
With one motion, the chains burned away.
She fell forward, but he caught her.
He wrapped her in his robe and held her close.
"Sorry, Aria... I was late."
He turned, carrying her in his arms. As his footsteps echoed, he looked back at the guards.
"Oh... before I forget," he said softly, "you're all doing this for , right?"
His eyes flared.
Black flas exploded from beneath them like a serpent's jaw, swallowing them whole.
Screams filled the chamber.
Azreal muttered one word:
"Burn."
[The Flaming Hall]
The room was tense. All the Pillars were seated as Hell Butterflies vanished in smoke.
Malphas spoke first. "We've all heard the ssage. Ti to return to our gates."
Selmora stretched. "Ugh... letting Lord Azreal handle sothing this interesting... such a sha. My body's itching for a good fight."
Veymar nodded. "I don't like sitting back either... but orders are orders."
Xaltheon's voice was calm. "If Lord Azreal wanted to do this alone, he has his reasons."
Dragos raised a brow. "Sarah and Aria missing, huh? But isn't Sarah a system? How can she go missing? And what was Aria even doing in the palace? She's suspected of having the Gods Mark. Isn't that dangerous?"
Malphas agreed. "True. That's why I didn't support sending her there in the first place. She could be a threat."
Selmora chuckled. "Isn't it strange that Lord Azreal himself allowed her in the palace? Not even Laisa has entered those doors."
Veymar interrupted. "That just proves he doesn't trust her. He wants to keep her close—where he can control the danger."
Xaltheon nodded. "I agree."
Dragos narrowed his eyes. "Xaltheon... you're leaving sothing out. Why don't you tell them about the guard who had Y'tharion's mark?"
Everyone turned.
"That wasn't supposed to be public yet," Xaltheon said, voice tight. "I sealed Allen and called Orvath to examine him. I didn't say anything because we don't have answers yet."
Malphas stepped in. "He's right. No point in spreading half-truths."
Veymar grinned. "Everyone agrees with Xaltheon. What about you, old man?"
Dragos growled. "Watch your mouth."
"Hai, hai, gramps," Veymar teased.
"Who're you calling gramps?!"
"Enough!" Malphas snapped.
The tension cooled.
Selmora stood. "This eting is over. I'm heading out. I wish I could help Lord Azreal... it'd be more fun than sitting here."
Xaltheon smirked. "We all know what your help really looks like."
Selmora vanished into flas, leaving a mischievous smile behind.
Malphas stood. "Let's reconvene once things settle. Stay alert. Enemies could strike anyti."
Everyone disappeared—except Dragos. He remained seated.
Then, he laughed. It wasn't pleasant. It echoed through the hall.
The flas roared with his laughter.
[The Royal Palace]
The maids paused as a red gate ford mid-air. Flas danced around it.
Fredrick stepped forward as the portal opened.
Azreal erged, Aria in his arms, wrapped in his robe.
Everyone froze.
Azreal's grandma -Nena rushed over. "What happened?!" she asked, looking from Azreal to Aria.
She turned to the others. "Prepare a room—quickly!"
Azreal stopped them.
"She stays with ."
He walked past them, his steps heavy, and slamd the door to his room.
The maids stared, shocked.
Nena snapped. "Stop gawking! Get back to work! He'll be hungry!"
She turned to Fredrick. "You too. Go do sothing useful!"
Inside his room, Azreal gently laid Aria on the bed. He covered her with a blanket.
Then, sothing caught his eye.
A faint red glow shimred under her palm.
He lifted her hand—there it was. A small glowing red cross.
"So it's true," he whispered. "The God's Mark..."
Then a sharp pain hit his chest.
He opened his coat, revealing his own mark—burning bright, resonating.
"Our marks..." he murmured, his voice trembling, "...are calling to each other."
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