The crater of the Giga-Coliseum, ravaged by war, lay beneath a violet sky streaked with dying flames and flickering light. Smoking debris scattered like the bones of a vanquished titan, while the air, thick with ash and sulfur, still hummed with echoes of chaos. At its center stood Satan, a mountain of incarnate power, his black armor glinting with liquid fire, his twisted horns catching the last glimmers of the Omniviels' purifying rays.
The survivors—Gills, Soehpt, Kira, Tyrnat, Yulius, Nera, Bhaadon, Solom, Orak, and Razhïel—stood a few meters away, their trembling bodies teetering on the brink of collapse, their weapons faltering in exhausted hands. Natass Magna XIII, beside them, adjusted his monocle with a sadistic smile, his onyx horns gleaming under the sporadic ultraviolet light piercing the darkness.
Satan slowly turned his gaze upon them, his red eyes, vast as cursed suns, shimmering with cruel amusement. "What's this? Your little protégés would defy me without delay, eh, Natass? Hahaha!" His rumbling voice rolled across the crater like infernal thunder, rattling the broken chains dangling from his wrists. He crossed his arms, his grin widening to reveal jagged fangs carved from primordial magma. "But look at yourselves, young Tyrans… You can barely stand, your powers spent. In your state, you couldn't even scratch an imp!" He erupted in guttural laughter, clearly entertained, his gaze sliding from Natass to the survivors with a condescension almost affectionate.
Natass cackled in response, a shrill sound that sliced through the air like a blade. "Oh, Master, they've got heart, don't they?" he said, his voice laced with jubilant malice. "But don't worry… They'll learn." He tapped his golden cane against the ground, a luminous spark flaring from its pommel, underscoring his confidence.
Satan nodded, his amusement shifting to a calculating glint. "Very well," he murmured, then pivoted toward the Omniviels, the three remaining celestial entities still standing amid the carnage. "But first, allow me to prove a point." With a casual gesture, he signaled his legions—Bhaal, Azazel, Razagoth, and their infernal cohorts—who instantly withdrew, their growls fading into oppressive silence. The Monarchs—Abaddon, Belzebub, Cania, and Brazh'Furia—obeyed, their massive forms parting to form a circle around the crater, their eyes fixed on their master with a mix of reverence and fear.
Alone, Satan advanced on the Omniviels, each step quaking the earth, his magma-blade claws glinting in the fading light. The three celestial entities, their eight wings studded with countless eyes spread like ramparts, unleashed a desperate salvo of purifying beams. Solar lances erupted from their central suns, streaking the air in a blinding flare that lit the crater like divine daylight. But the assaults slid off Satan like water on polished stone, their rays dissipating into useless wisps against his black armor, leaving only dying sparks in their wake.
With unnerving ease, Satan extended a massive hand toward the first Omniviel. His claws sank into the entity's solar heart, a throbbing globe of pure light, and tore it free with a sinister crack. The Omniviel screamed—a high, inhuman wail that tore through the air—before crumbling into a shower of luminescent ash, its wings snuffing out like candles in a frigid gust. The survivors held their breath, wide-eyed, as Natass burst into shrill laughter, clapping his hands like a child at a puppet show.
Satan turned to the second Omniviel, which focused all its radiance into a single beam, a column of light so intense it carved a smoking furrow in the ground. But the Supreme Monarch raised a hand, and a black flame surged from his palm, a living darkness that rose like a ravenous wave. The flame engulfed the Omniviel, slowly consuming its celestial essence in a sinister crackle. The entity struggled, its countless eyes blinking frantically, but the black fire gnawed relentlessly, reducing its wings to ash, then its body to glittering dust scattered by the infernal wind. Satan watched with a satisfied smile, his red eyes glowing with amused light.
As he turned to the final Omniviel, poised to finish his work, a shadowy blur sliced through the crater with a piercing hiss. A massive blade of shadows, shimmering with tenebrous energy, struck the celestial entity dead center, cleaving it in two with a blinding flash. The halves of the Omniviel collapsed in a low rumble, their central suns winking out in a final flicker. But as it fell, its blood—incandescent golden ichor—burst from the gaping wound, rising into the air before descending in a rain of light. Luminous droplets, bright as liquid stars, fell gently across the crater, glinting on debris, survivors, and infernal legions, bathing the scene in an ethereal glow that clashed with the ambient darkness. The Omniviel's feathers, torn free by Morningstar's strike, floated in this rain, adding a mournful grace to the destruction.
Morningstar emerged from the shadows, his six tenebrous wings spread to their fullest, his black armor pulsing with cold runes. His blade, Noctis Aeternae, thrummed in his hand, its edge still smoking with the energy that had obliterated the Omniviel.
Satan swung toward him, a thunderous laugh bursting from his throat. "Ah! Lucifer, I see you're clinging to your title as Guardian of the Hells! Hahaha!" He clapped a friendly hand on the Fallen's shoulder, his claws clinking against Morningstar's armor in a metallic chime. "I commend you for holding out so long against those glittering gnats." His tone was jovial, almost brotherly, but his red eyes glinted with an underlying threat.
Morningstar tilted his head slightly, an ironic smile curling his lips beneath his helm. "Hmm, well… But it won't come cheap, even for you, dear master of the hells," he replied, his rasping voice tinged with mocking amusement. His eyes, hidden under his helm, flared with a red aura that pierced the dark, a gleam betraying both defiance and calculation.
"Muahahahaha!" Satan roared, his laughter shaking the crater one last time. "Good! GOOD! Whatever you wish, Lucifer!" He stomped the ground, and a wave of black flames swept the debris, scattering the Omniviels' last traces in an ash whirlwind. Then his gaze turned to the survivors, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Now, before we sound the counterstrike against those cities of light… I'd have you assist Natass in training the candidates for the title."
During this brief exchange, the adrenaline sustaining the survivors crashed like a broken wave. Their bodies, already on the verge of collapse, gave out. Gills staggered, his red flames fading in a weak crackle, before dropping to his knees, his ragged breath echoing in the heavy air. Kira crumpled beside him, her Cestus of Astrugg clattering dully as they extinguished, sweat beading on her brow. Soehpt, his hybrid form wavering under Volgurax's strain, collapsed with a groan, his blue flames vanishing like dissipating mist. Tyrnat, Yulius, and Nera fell in a disordered trio, their weapons—sickle, sword, shadow threads—clinking faintly into the dust. Bhaadon and Solom, near Gota, slumped against a rock, their tonfas and lightning dying in a final flicker. Orak, his lance planted in the ground, slid slowly earthward, a frosty mist escaping his slowing breath. Razhïel, his severed arm trailing black blood, leaned against debris, Tenebris Lux slipping from his trembling hand, his tarnished golden eyes blinking beneath his mask.
Natass watched the scene, a shrill laugh erupting from his throat. "Amusing, isn't it, Master?" he said, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight behind his monocle. "They've got potential, but they need… a touch of discipline!" He stepped toward the fallen survivors, tapping his cane against the ground with evident satisfaction, then turned to revel in the spectacle of Satan and Morningstar, a malicious grin stretching his lips.
Morningstar, with confident strides, approached the survivors. With supernatural strength, he hoisted Gills and Kira in one hand, slinging Soehpt over his shoulder, while his tenebrous wings extended to envelop Tyrnat, Yulius, and Nera in a shadowy embrace. Bhaadon, Solom, and Gota were lifted by a wave of dark energy, their bodies floating behind him like broken puppets. Orak and Razhïel, the last, were seized by shadow chains conjured by Noctis Aeternae, their exhausted forms suspended in the air. The Fallen Seraph marched toward Natass, his steps resounding on the cracked ground, the survivors dangling in his wake like shattered trophies.
"Where to, Natass?" he asked, his rasping voice cutting the silence, a hint of curiosity lacing his ironic tone.
Natass pivoted, his smile widening into an enigmatic smirk. "To Lilith's domain…" he replied, his shrill voice tinged with a malice that hinted at unfathomable secrets. He struck his cane against the ground, a tiny golden portal flaring before him, ready to swallow them.
Beneath Lucifer Morningstar's helm, his eyes, ablaze with a red aura, flickered with rare astonishment, a fleeting glint betraying surprise in the Guardian of the Hells. The portal opened, and darkness consumed them, leaving the crater silent beneath Satan's towering shadow, a cruel smile still playing on his lips as he gazed toward the horizon of light-cities yet to come, the Omniviel's rain of light fading softly into the dust.