Devil Slave (Satan system)

The light of the gods dimmed one by one.

Their cries were not of pain, but disbelief—as if their divinity itself had betrayed them. The divine glow that had once wrapped around their forms began to wane, draining from their flesh like lifeblood drawn through invisible veins. Wings crumbled into dust. Armor forged in starfire dulled into rusted grey. Even the void trembled with their fading power.

Those that had once stood as symbols of eternity were now collapsing, their bodies falling through the void like burnt-out stars.

Odin stood frozen amidst the dying storm. His single eye quivered, reflecting the sight of his kin being unmade before him. For the first time in centuries, his breath came shallow and fast. Drops of sweat trailed down his brow, gliding along the deep wrinkles of his age and pride.

He looked on—shocked, regretful, and silently damned by the consequence of his own arrogance.

Not all had joined his folly. Demeter's faction, who had hesitated at the order, remained standing. Relief washed through their faces—grim, quiet gratitude that they had not obeyed. They had seen war, but never this kind of annihilation.

Meanwhile, Tomato's voice thundered over the chaos, her tone laced with furious mockery.

"Damn it, old man! You just made my job harder, you wrinkled idiot!"

Her tail whipped through the air, her aura flaring like molten iron. The eye was swelling again, its mass expanding, veins of radiant white webbing through its iris. Its light pulsed—steady, rhythmic, hungry.

It was feeding.

Perseus's heart hammered in his chest. He turned as a sudden static crackled in his comm. Then—

"Perseus!"

It was a voice he knew too well.

Luca.

For the first time since the battle began, a spark of hope crossed Perseus's face. "Luca, is that—?"

"Yeah," Luca interrupted, his voice steady beneath the rumble of machinery. "Our High Elve technology may have fallen in recent times—but we can still back you guys up."

Perseus's lips parted into a faint, weary smile. "How many shots do you have?"

"Enough."

The word came with the hum of gathering power.

"Good," Perseus growled, eyes flashing with purpose. "Then let's help Tomato take it out."

He turned and screamed across the battlefield, "EVERYONE—CLEAR OUT!"

This time, there was no hesitation. Even Odin obeyed, retreating with the few gods that still stood.

The stars themselves seemed to dim as runes began to bloom across the void—lines of glowing script weaving themselves into being, ancient and alive. The sigils split, multiplied, and then aligned with a sharp hum that rippled through space.

A white beam fired.

It wasn't as massive as the one from Earth, but its impact was glorious—clean, disciplined, devastating. It ripped through the dark, slicing into the angel's massive eye with a sound like worlds breaking.

The shockwave that followed was blinding, a tide of light that even Perseus had to shield his face from.

When the radiance faded, the battlefield was silent.

And for a moment—just one heartbeat—it looked as if the tide was turning.

Tomato's laughter echoed like thunder through the void.

Wild, unrestrained, and terrifyingly joyful.

She licked her lips, baring sharp teeth as the flames of the recent explosion still glimmered in her eyes. "You think I'm done?" she roared, and then—like a comet unleashed—she surged forward.

Her body tore through the aftermath of the beam, moving faster than even divine sight could track. The space around her bent and cracked from the sheer force of her acceleration, her devilish tail slicing through the debris of light like a blade. The eye, vast as a moon and trembling with fresh divine energy, turned to meet her charge.

Tomato's laughter grew louder, more savage. "Come on, big bright bastard! Let's dance!"

And she hit it—hard. Her fists hammered into its iris like meteors striking planets, each impact shaking the heavens themselves. Black cracks began to appear around the angel's massive form, spreading like veins of rot through its divine shell.

The battlefield blazed with light, the chorus of her war cry reverberating through every mind present.

Then—

Meanwhile, back on Earth.

Kanada was still trapped in the Fallen's domain..

Her once-glorious robes were torn and soaked in blood, fluttering weakly as she hovered in the broken sky. Her staff, cracked and dim, trembled in her grasp. Around her, the air reeked of tears and despair—the domain had become an ocean of sorrow, its surface glistening with the endless weeping of the fallen angel before her.

Three of them stood against her.

Two behind—watching, unmoving—amused spectators to the misery of their weeping kin's sadistic performance.

And the crying fallen itself—the same creature that had slain Athena—was a haunting sight. Streams of tears poured from its hollow eyes as it struck again, its weeping only intensifying as its hand slammed into Kanada's body.

Crack!

The blow threw her across the sky like a broken doll. She spat blood, her body twisting before she landed harshly into the pool of tears below. The liquid hissed, burning her wounds with a divine-acid sting.

The weeping fallen hovered above, head tilting to one side as it spoke through sobs.

"Why resist the inevitable, prophet? Die and glorify Lucifer's name…"

Kanada coughed, blood staining her lips—but even as she rose slowly from the crimson pool, there was laughter in her breath. Her aura, though flickering, pulsed faintly with stubborn life.

"Heh… tell me, weeping fool," she whispered hoarsely, "have you ever heard the story of the phoenix?"

The fallen frowned, its tears slowing. "What nonsense are you babbling now? Has the pain to praise lord Lucifer scrambled your mind?"

Kanada straightened her posture, her torn robes fluttering around her as if revived by the faintest wind. "Phoenixes… they were once heavenly beasts—beautiful, proud. But they fell, just like you did. Only… even in Hell, they were different."

She smiled, and for a moment, her eyes burned with that same divine defiance that once defined her prophecies.

"Their attack power was nothing to fear. That's why they were called weaker hell beasts. Very low in the rankings. But they had one thing… one gift even the heavens envied—rebirth."

The crying fallen's expression twisted into disdain. "Rebirth? What use is that, when your soul will belong to—"

"Are you going to make me wait longer… Athena?" Kanada's grin widened.

The air changed.

A sharp shkk! split through the domain—like the sound of glass cracking under pressure.

The crying fallen froze.

Then—SLAASH!

It turned its head just in time to see one of its allies behind it split cleanly from head to toe, the two halves sliding apart before crashing into the sea of tears. Blood sprayed in every direction, staining the weeping angel's face.

The crying fallen stood still, trembling, disbelief etched into its every tear-streaked feature.

Something had come back from the dead.

Something it never expected.