Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 153: Her Last Light

[Sirella’s POV—Imperial Palace—Midnight]

His hand slamd against my throat so fast I barely saw the movent.

"Hh—!" Air vanished.

My back hit the cold marble pillar, and his fingers tightened—hard enough to bruise, hard enough to remind he wasn’t human.

He wasn’t my brother. He only wore my brother’s face.

The Devil’s eyes burned red in the moonlit hall as he snarled, "I gave you ONE TASK, Sirella. One simple task—"His grip tightened; my vision blurred"—and you FAILED."

I clawed at his wrist, choking, gasping.

He leaned closer, breath cold against my cheek.

"And now..." His voice dropped to a whisper dripping with venom. "...he has awakened his powers."

Despite the pain in my throat—despite the suffocating grip—a smirk curled on my lips.

"That ans..." I rasped, "...your end is—"

SLAP.

White exploded across my vision as my head snapped to the side.

"You bitch."

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t have to be.

"THERE WILL BE NO END OF MINE..." His hand slid back to my throat, squeezing with mock affection. "...IT WILL BE HIS."

He smiled.

A slow, elegant smile full of teeth and promise. He leaned in until his lips brushed my ear, and—he sniffed .

A shiver crawled down my spine.

"You know how I’ll end him?" he whispered, voice curling like smoke.

Sothing was wrong. Sothing felt wrong in the air, in his aura, and in the way his fingers trembled with barely contained excitent.

He chuckled softly. "Tell , Sirella... do you know what happens when a devil gains Seraph power?"

My eyes widened. My pulse stuttered.

Seraph power? WHY would he—

He tightened his hand around my throat, cutting off my breath completely.

"I don’t need to wait for destiny," he purred. "I don’t need to wait for to suck humans’ souls anymore to gain my powers." He dragged closer by the throat, face inches from mine.

"Because I am going to borrow a Seraph’s power—" his voice rose, unhinged, trembling with hunger— "—I will be unstoppable."

My nails scraped weakly against his arm. No sound ca out of my mouth—only strangled air.

He suddenly released . I collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, coughing violently.

COUGH—COUGH—Air burned as it returned to my lungs.

He watched with leisurely amusent.

Then—KNOCK KNOCK.

A soldier’s voice echoed beyond the door:

"Crown Prince, the guest you requested has arrived."

The Devil’s entire face lit up.

"Finally," he breathed.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, my voice hoarse. "W-What are you... going to do?"

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming like dark red.

"The Seraph power..." He stepped toward the door. "...is already here."

"What... what does that an?" My voice trembled despite myself.

He didn’t answer.

He simply smirked—and walked out with a soft THUD of his boots against marble.

The mont he left, a chill swept through the hallway.

Sothing was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He said he could borrow Seraph power—but how? From whom?

Fear coiled in my gut as I staggered to my feet, leaning on the wall for support. I forced my legs to move. Down the hallway. Toward the guest chamber. Toward the thing he planned to use.

My footsteps echoed in the dark corridor, every step heavier than the last. When I reached the grand door, I pushed it open—and the sight inside tore the breath from my lungs.

My heart stopped.

"...E–Elowen...?"

The world tilted violently—because the Devil—wearing my brother’s face—was crouched beside her... His hand clamped around her throat.

And from his palm—from Elowen’s trembling body—light was being ripped out.

Not mild light.Not priestly radiance.

Seraph light.

His fingers glowed with golden threads pouring into his skin, into his veins, and into his eyes.

Elowen arched in pain, her breath shattering in her chest.

"W–Why...?" I choked. "Why HER power—?"

A horrible thought struck . My blood froze.

No.No, no, no—

Elowen never possessed divine power. She was a saintess, yes. But a normal one. So where...Where did that Seraph light co from?

Unless—Unless she had borrowed it from... From Leif.

My breath hitched. My stomach dropped.

"No..." I whispered, stepping back. "No—no—"

BUMP.

I collided with sothing solid behind . I spun around—

"Father...?"

The emperor stood there, stiff, pale, and trembling. His eyes were fixed on the horrific scene in front of us.

His voice ca out thin. "...Is he... sucking divine powers?"

I swallowed hard, shaking. "N-No. Father... he’s not draining divine power."

I stared helplessly as more golden light tore from Elowen’s chest.

"He’s draining—" My voice broke. "—Seraph power."

A sharp crack echoed in the room—Elowen’s body jolting as another wave of light was forced from her. Father’s eyes widened, horror sinking into every wrinkle on his face.

And then—

"Sirella..." His voice dropped to a trembling whisper. "...run."

"What? Father—"

"RUN."

His gaze never left the Devil—not even once.

"I never did anything good for this empire," he whispered, voice shaking with regret."But now—" His hands curled into trembling fists. "—he is going to corrupt everyone. He will kill everyone."

The Devil’s aura swelled.Dark.Erupting.Hungry.

Father shoved back with shaking hands.

"Run as far as you can—" His voice cracked. "Tell the Seraph King—"

He swallowed hard.

"THE DEVIL HAS RISEN."

Sothing inside shattered.

"Father..." I whispered. "I’m sorry... but—"

"GO!" he scread.

And—

I ran.

I turned and ran with everything I had, tears blurring my vision, footsteps pounding the marble hall—

SPLASH.

Not water.

Blood.

I froze—horror slamming into my ribs. I turned around, slow... too slow... and saw—

Father, falling to his knees. His throat was torn open by two blackened fingers, slick with red. The Devil stood behind him. His eyes—completely black.

No iris.No white.Just endless void.

A monstrous smile curled his lips.

"You won’t even have ti to inform him, little princess..." He took a step forward—shadows writhing at his feet. "I am no longer bound by seals."

Another step.The walls trembled.

"No longer weakened."

Another step. His mouth split into a grin that didn’t belong to any mortal face.

"And no longer patient."

My heart slamd against my ribs. The hallway warped—magic crackled—his aura bled into the air like poison—and I did the only thing left to do.

I ran.I ran

with everything I had. With every ounce of fear and every desperate prayer thundering in my chest. Behind —his laughter echoed through the palace.

Cold.tallic.Inhuman.

It chased down the corridors like a curse.

And I knew—

The Devil had risen.

Fullypletely.And stronger than he had ever been.

***

[Leif’s POV—Leif’s Chamber—The Next Morning]

Alvar was standing in front of , towel wrapped low on his waist, droplets of bathwater still sliding down his chest—and sohow he was still looking more composed than I felt.

He was drying his hair with slow strokes, watching with quiet worry as I sat cross-legged on the floor, hands hovering above the divine sword resting in front of .

Luminael.

The ancient Seraph blade. My pulse thrumd with nervous excitent as golden energy gathered at my fingertips.

"Do you think he will wake up?" Alvar asked softly.

His voice held that gentle caution, the kind he used when he was trying not to sound overprotective but failing spectacularly.

I inhaled.

"Yes." My voice was steadier than I felt. "I can control my power a little now. I’m still not an expert, but..." I placed both hands over the hilt, letting warm divinity pour into it. "...Luminael will wake up. I can feel it."

Alvar nodded, though his brows pinched.

"Don’t overdo it, okay? Not after yesterday." He knelt beside , brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You pushed yourself too hard."

"I know." I smiled weakly. "I won’t this ti."

I hoped.

I really, really hoped.

I closed my eyes. The hum of my power swelled like sunlight under my skin—warm, bright, tingling at the edges. A soft pulse... then another... then a gentle flare.

The sword responded.

A faint glow.

A whisper of heat radiating into my palms.Like breathing.

"I can feel him..." I whispered. "He’s close. He’s really close."

Alvar placed a steadying hand on my back, grounding .

"Take your ti," he murmured. "I’m right here."

That helped. More than I could say. I took a slow breath—and pushed more divinity into Luminael. Golden light crawled across the blade, tracing ancient runes, filling the cracks of ti.

The air shifted—heavy, warm, shimring.

And then—

SHIIINNNNEEEEE—!!!!!

The light exploded upward in a blinding pillar, forcing Alvar to shield his eyes, pushing my hair back with a wild gust of divine wind.

The sword trembled—

Once.Twice.

Then—

With a ringing cry that split the entire chamber, the blade rose into the air, glowing with celestial brilliance.

"MAAAAAASTEEEERRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!"

I flinched.

Alvar flinched.

The windows rattled.

Yep.That was Luminael.

The sword spun dramatically above my head like a golden cot throwing a tantrum of joy before settling gently—almost lovingly—into my hands.

A bright, childlike, annoyingly cheerful voice rang out again:

"MASTER!! I’M AWAKE! ALIVE! I DIDN’T DIE! I DIDN’T TURN TO ASH!"

"Luminael," I groaned, laughing breathlessly, "please—dial down the volu—"

"MASTER, I HAVE MISSED YOU FOR THREE MONTHS—!!!"

I snorted.Alvar sighed.The sword vibrated like an overexcited puppy.

"I know, I know..." I whispered, fingers brushing the hilt tenderly. "Welco back, Luminael."

The glow softened.

For a mont—a single quiet, reverent mont—the room felt warr.

Alive.

But sowhere far beyond these walls...sothing had already begun to rot. Sowhere, the world was corrupting.

Sothing was breaking.

And then—SLAM!!!

The chamber doors burst open, ricocheting against the walls.

THUD—!

Baron Sigurd stumbled inside, pale as frost, gasping for breath as if he had sprinted the entire estate.

"My—my lord—!!"

Alvar straightened instantly, every muscle tensing.

"Baron," Alvar demanded, voice icy, "speak."

Sigurd’s hands shook.

"We... we’ve found a dead female, my lord."

The words crashed into the room like ice.