Devil Slave (Satan system)

For a long moment, Father Black did not move. His jaw clenched around the pipe, smoke curling from his lips as his holy flame sword dimmed in his grip.

The two Fallen Angels—whose bodies he had so decisively cut apart—now hovered before him once more, whole and unscarred. Their mocking voices twined together like the echo of a nightmare.

"You thought…"

"…that death would save you?"

They laughed in unison, the sound jagged, scraping against the void itself.

Father Black's eyes narrowed. And then clarity struck him like a blade to the chest. His gaze flicked to the colossal Angel—the Eye the size of the moon. He understood now. That thing wasn't a fighter. It was a pillar. A function. A resurrection well. As long as it remained, none of the Fallen could truly die.

If this continued, he could kill and kill again—only for them to rise anew, like death itself was mocking him.

His chest heaved—not from fear, but from exertion. The smoke around his arms wavered. He had already poured too much magic into this battle. Two Fallen with Arcane-level strength were enough to drag out the fight, to bleed him of stamina. If he allowed his people to take them on, they would be slaughtered. He could not, would not, permit that.

He glanced back once. His warriors—gods, devils, humans—stood ready, blades and powers drawn, fire in their eyes. But none of them understood the weight of the situation yet. He did. And that left him with only one path.

"To hell with Kanada's bet," he muttered under his breath. "This is bigger than pride."

Then his voice rang like iron through the comms:

"Perseus!"

The warrior stiffened, startled. "Yes, Regent?"

"You are in charge now. No matter what happens… make sure you kill the big one. The Eye. If not…" Father Black's voice hardened, "…what I am going to do will mean nothing."

Perseus barely had time to process the words before Father Black moved. His body blurred, streaking toward the Fallen with speed that cracked the void behind him.

The two resurrected Angels immediately swept forward, wings blotting out starlight. They would not let him pass.

Father Black's jaw tightened. He knew the trick he had used before would no longer work. This required something else. Something absolute.

He clenched his fist, his entire aura igniting like a collapsing star.

And then—he released it.

The void itself twisted and bled.

Arcane Domain—Blood House.

Blood House was a Domain ability Lenny had. Creating a domain meant that the person understood the laws that were necessary in its creation.

Father Black had never dabbled in understanding the laws that governed blood. But there was one thing he was good at and that was receiving the understanding of the laws from his king.

Lenny had given him this before he did what he did at purgatory.

Right now, father Black was using it.

The void buckled. Space itself rippled as Father Black's Arcane Domain surged outward, swallowing the Fallen like a scarlet tidal wave. In the next instant, reality warped, bending inwards until a vast, pulsating sphere enclosed them all.

From outside, the gods and mortals could see nothing but a massive globe of blood, its surface shifting like liquid flesh, its heartbeat thrumming across the stars.

Inside, the air stank of iron and rot. A crimson mansion of impossible size loomed in every direction, its walls dripping as though the stones themselves bled. The ground squelched beneath their feet, a floor made of living veins that pulsed with every step.

Father Black's silhouette stood tall in the center, pipe clenched in his teeth, smoke rising like a crown. His eyes burned with an ancient, unyielding fire.

"Get 'em, boys," he said, his voice calm, almost casual.

The walls split open. From every crack and vein, monstrous hounds poured forth—beasts of coagulated blood, their bodies constantly dripping, reforming, and splitting into fresh horrors. Their maws gaped too wide, rows of jagged teeth gnashing as their howls shook the chamber.

They surged forward in a crimson flood, leaping toward the Fallen Angels with murderous hunger.

The battle erupted anew within the Blood House.

The blood-hounds rushed like a tide, jaws gnashing, claws tearing at the void itself. But the two Fallen only chuckled, their hollow voices overlapping until they sounded like one twisted hymn.

"You ants call it Arcane Domain, right?" they murmured together, their tones almost playful, as though they pitied him. "We call it something else. But just to humor you… let's call it that."

And then they moved. Their wings flared, dripping corruption into the air.

Arcane Domain — BONED.

The world of blood shuddered violently. Veins snapped like strings under strain. Crimson walls that bled endlessly were pierced from below. Giant bones—white, ancient, and grotesquely twisted—shot upward, splitting through the dripping flesh of the domain. They rose into the sky like towers, clashing against the blood-mansion until the entire realm began to twist into a battlefield of marrow and gore.

Father Black staggered slightly, his pupils narrowing. His cigar trembled between his teeth.

"Impossible…" he muttered.

The Fallen's laughter echoed across the breaking domain, cruel and mocking.

"This is our power. Do you understand, Regent? This is why we never bothered with domains. Our grasp of law is not like yours. Our specialty is counter. Every world you weave, every law you bend, we twist and consume. We could never cast an Arcane Domain—until we saw yours. And now…"

The bones stretched higher, consuming the veins and drinking the blood until the very core of Father Black's domain warped into a parasitical mockery of itself.

"This is your creation," they sneered, "made ours."

"Shit!" Father Black frowned. He waved his hand and the smoke gloves appeared again. His gaze was focused.

"Perseus... You had better have learnt something in these past hundred years that can let you kill that thing. If not, we are all FUCKED!"

The moment he said this, he gave a loud battle cry as he dove into battle.

Outside the Arcane Domain, something else was happening.