Be careful who you set free.

—

Witches' Forest:

As Acier stepped into the forest, she was greeted by the sight of houses and shops embedded in the canopies of towering trees, all connected by simple suspension bridges.

From above, countless youthful witches looked down at her with mixed expressions—confusion, interest, fear, and anger.

Acier didn't care. She disappeared with a simple flicker, reappearing a second later in the heart of the forest, standing before the Witch Queen's palace.

Without hesitation, she kicked her foot forward. The wooden door exploded into splinters and dust as she stepped into the small, ancient throne room.

Walking over the worn red carpet, she looked up to find her target sitting on a large red throne outlined in gold.

The Witch Queen—a tall, slender woman—wore a layered light green dress adorned with several large red eyes. Her similarly colored hat lacked the eyes, and her pale skin contrasted with her pronounced blue lips and nails. Teardrop-like marks sat beneath her eyes, and her pink hair was almost entirely hidden beneath her conical hat.

Acier's eyes narrowed for a moment at the stone hanging from the woman's left ear before shifting back to the Witch Queen herself.

The Queen clicked her tongue in audible displeasure. "Did you have to destroy that door? It was a century old, you know."

Acier smiled disarmingly. "It was ugly. I did you a favor."

The Witch Queen clicked her tongue again. "Now it's imperfect." She raised a hand to her left earlobe, plucked the stone earring off, and twirled it between her fingers.

"This is what you came for, correct? Take it and leave."

She tossed the stone down to Acier, who caught it smoothly between her fingers before slipping it into her satchel.

Acier crossed her arms, her smile never faltering. "Oh, great seer of the forest..." she began mockingly. "Surely your foresight didn't just predict this. Because if it had, maybe you should change your occupation."

The Witch Queen narrowed her eyes, fingers clenching the armrests of her throne. "It is not yet time for Vanessa to leave. Though it's infuriating, she can only truly reach perfection under that uncouth, vulgar boy. He won't come for her for years. I won't let you ruin her future—"

"Hah. This is what happens when I let you talk." Acier shook her head with an unamused smile.

"You really are a fool... what's your name, anyway?"

The Witch Queen's brows scrunched, her face darkening. "A fool? Me? What nonsense are you spouting—"

"When I ask you a question, you answer." Acier interrupted. "What's your name? No way am I calling a nobody like you 'Queen.'"

The Witch Queen's face blackened further. "I believe this disrespect is completely uncalled for. Do keep in mind—without me sending Dorothy your husband's way, you'd already be a corpse."

Acier sneered. "Dorothy would've left this shitty place one way or another, and my Sebby would've found her regardless... Oh yeah, that reminds me. I really need to teach you a lesson for making my daughter sad. And cry.

I thought I was bad, but you? You could win the award for worst mother in the world. Keeping all your daughters imprisoned in this joke of a kingdom.

How many runaways do you have now, by the way?"

"That's none of your business!" the Witch Queen hissed, her mana flaring outward in a burst of crimson blood. "This isn't a cage—it's a safe haven, keeping them out of reach of the impurity of dirty men. As for the ones who leave, just like Dorothy, they only manage to escape because I let them. Because I believe they're among the few who can excel and be better than they would be in the outside world!"

"Dorothy should thank me! In just half a month, she improved by leaps and bounds and even managed to manifest her power outside! She's taken a solid step toward perfection, which would have been impossible if not for me—Aaugh!"

The Witch Queen cried out in pain as she was hoisted into the air, Acier's hand tightening around her throat. Acier smiled darkly as she choked the life out of her.

"Thank you? She should thank you?" Acier sneered. "You, the bitch who cast her aside the second you found a new toy and lost interest? Dorothy's success has nothing to do with you. Don't take credit for something you didn't contribute to. Understand?"

She squeezed tighter. A sharp cracking sound echoed through the room, making the Witch Queen wince as cold sweat rolled down the side of her face. Struggling to breathe, she nodded weakly.

Acier dropped her onto the throne like discarded trash. She landed with an undignified plop.

Gasping, the Witch Queen clutched her throat, her hand glowing red as she ran it over her cartilage. The pain faded, and her breathing steadied.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she sat up. Acier loomed over her.

That displeased her. No one should look down at her. But she said nothing, biting her lip before spitting out, "Morgana. My name is Morgana Enoteca."

"Heh." Acier laughed mockingly. "Vanessa really is your favorite, huh? You even gave her your last name. What about all the other girls in the forest? Where do their family names come from? The men you sleep with to make them?"

"I do no such thing!" Morgana hissed, slamming her armrest in fury. "You think I would whore myself out to filthy men again and again to sire children?! To sire daughters?! I will not let some man sully my perfection—"

"Perfection, perfection. Is that all you can talk about?" Acier snorted. "You weren't very perfect ten seconds ago. Just answer the question, bitch."

Morgana ground her teeth, digging her nails into her own flesh. "You merely caught me off guard. The gap between us isn't as large as you think. You're starting to test my patience."

"What a coincidence. The feeling's mutual." Acier grinned, pumping a fist. "Wanna settle this the old-fashioned way? Don't worry—I won't kill you. You're still Dorothy's mother at the end of the day, and all these poor girls in the forest depend on you."

A vein popped in Morgana's forehead before she let out a long sigh and sank back into her chair. Her rage cooled into cold indifference, her tone nearly bored.

"I am someone who has grasped the path to immortality. Who has mastered curses, hexes, and esoteric arts. I am the successor who will follow in the great path of Circe and Hecate. Producing asexually—creating daughters with all sorts of different magics, appearances, quirks, and more—is a minor matter."

Acier was not impressed in the least. "Great? Yes, you're so very great. So great, in fact, that you needed Goldstein's help to push my kingdom's borders back from yours... though it failed in the end. Now that I think about it, a lot of the bloodshed and loss in Kiten could be attributed to you. Should I kill you for that?"

Morgana snorted. "Diamond would have invaded Clover regardless."

Acier nodded. "True. But not nearly as aggressively had it not been for your deal with Goldstein. As a fortune teller, you should have known the end result. So many lives lost pointlessly—because of you."

Morgana clicked her tongue. "I'm not omniscient. Fully divining the future of a saint, even a fake saint like Goldstein, is beyond me. Adding Alden into the equation complicated everything further, making the future too blurry. Despite all that, even if I could have foreseen the outcome, if I hadn't sent Goldstein to his death, Clover would be gone by now. You should be thanking me—"

She cut herself off, taking in the dark swirl in Acier's lavender eyes.

Acier sneered. "Not omniscient, huh? Yes, you truly seem to be perfect."

A vein popped in Morgana's forehead, but she stayed silent. The color in her blue eyes dimmed as she looked downward and snorted.

"Take Vanessa and be gone. Don't come complaining to me when this world loses the one meant to weave fate."

Acier spun on her heel, addressing Morgana as she started walking out. "Vanessa will become far greater than your prophecies could ever predict. And even if she doesn't, it won't matter. We adults aren't so incompetent that we need a little girl to bail us out whenever things go wrong."

Morgana's expression shifted, something complex flickering through her eyes as her thoughts consumed her.

Just as Acier was about to exit the doorway, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "Circe? Hecate? Who are they?"

Morgana, head lowered in deep reflection, replied almost absentmindedly. "Ancestral witches... minor deities that once walked this land..."

Acier raised a brow. "What happened to them?"

Morgana's expression sharpened as she locked gazes with Acier and replied truthfully. "I don't know. All I can say is—there are certain forces out there that don't take too kindly to the notion of the divine being plural."

Acier narrowed her eyes before flickering away.

—

Elsewhere

In the Witch Forest prison, there was a single cell, a single prisoner.

A large, birdcage-like cell hung from the ceiling, and inside sat a young girl—perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old—with fair skin and short pink hair, dressed in a long, conservative white gown.

Absent-mindedly, she played with magic strings, weaving different shapes to entertain herself as she gazed out at the arched windows.

Yearning for light. For freedom. For the power of fate to awaken, so her mother would finally let her out.

But with each day that passed, that hope faded further, growing bleeker. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't grasp the power to weave the threads of fate.

She didn't even know where to begin.

Her mother offered no wisdom, no advice—only the assertion that shecould.

Vanessa's heart ached. She wanted to go outside. She wondered if any of her sisters even remembered what she looked like. If they ever thought about her.

Had they forgotten her?

Just as she had forgotten the faces of so many of them. Just as she had forgotten what the outside world even looked like.

Vanessa wanted to see the sun. To bathe in its warmth.

She wanted to be—

"Free?"

Vanessa shot up from her chair, head snapping back toward the sudden, unexpected voice that broke her thoughts.

A silver-haired woman stood before her, gazing down with lavender eyes and a soft, almost motherly smile. Something about her presence inexplicably calmed Vanessa's nerves.

"W-Who are you?" she asked nervously.

The woman knelt so they were at eye level, her smile brightening. "My name is Acier. Acier Silva."

Vanessa blinked. "Y-You don't seem to be a witch."

Acier chuckled. "That's because I'm not. I'm a human—a royal from the Clover Kingdom."

An outsider?

Vanessa's eyes widened before she panicked. She hurriedly whispered, "Y-You shouldn't be here. M-Mother doesn't like intruders. You n-need to leave before she catches you—"

"You don't need to worry about that, Vanessa." Acier interrupted with a gentle smile.

Vanessa blinked again. "You... know who I am?"

Acier laughed softly and nodded. "Yes. Matter of fact, I'm here for you. To take you out of here."

Vanessa's pupils dilated. Her throat hitched. "F-For me? W-Why?"

Acier reached out and lightly ruffled Vanessa's hair, running her fingers through it with quiet fondness. The girl froze. The warmth—it reminded her of how her mother once was.

Acier parted her lips.

"My daughter-in-law is one of your sisters. She hasn't forgotten about you. She's wanted to rescue you for a long time but wasn't strong enough.Iam. So I can bring you out."

She extended a hand toward Vanessa.

"So what do you say? Do you want to come back to the Clover Kingdom? Live with me, your sister, and my family?"

"Do you want to be free?"

Vanessa didn't know what overcame her. The woman in front of her was a stranger, yet she felt sodrawnto her. She wanted to take her hand. But she didn't dare.

"B-But what about my mother?" she stammered. "I-I need to learn to control fate—to help her protect this kingdom. To protect my sisters."

Acier smiled softly. "That's nice and all. But is that whatyouwant?"

She tilted her head slightly.

"Forget the future. Forget the past. What doyouwant to do? What do you want tobe—right now, in the present?"

Vanessa froze.

Then she trembled.

Her eyes watered.

"M-Miss Acier... I w-want to get out of here. I want to go outside. I... I want to be free."

Acier beamed and gestured to her hand once again. "Then what are you going to do?"

Vanessa hesitated only a second before taking her hand with a shaky smile.

Then she broke down completely, lunging into Acier's chest, weeping.

"T-Thank you... s-so much... thank you, thank you, thank you...." She repeated the words over and over, her voice raw, catching Acier off guard.

But Acier only smiled and wrapped her arms around Vanessa, gently stroking her head, tracing soothing circles along her back.

"Shhh... it's all right. You're free now."

Vanessa whimpered further.

Acier wondered if she had let the Witch Queen off too easily.

—

Northern Sea, Seafloor

Inside the transparent gravitational sphere, Dante and Zenon walked side by side, following the voice of Lucifero.

They floated just above the seafloor, their only sources of light coming from their magic and their grimoires.

Yet, strangely, neither of them felt out of place. Instead, they feltwarm,comfortable—as if this was somewhere they were meant to be.

As if they were being drawn in.

The black water called to them, urging them to becomeonewith it, to dissolve into its depths, to integrate—

"Focus! Don't let yourself be deceived. It's an illusion!"

Lucifero's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

Both brothers snapped back to reality, their eyes widening as cold sweat trickled down their faces. They quickly composed themselves, feigning nonchalance.

Dante coughed into his fist. "Lucifero, what was that feeling? Wherearewe?"

The King of Devils remained silent for a moment before answering.

"A prison."

Dante blinked, while Zenon narrowed his eyes. "Aprison...? What are you talking abou—"

"Enough questions." Lucifero cut him off. "We're here. Stop moving."

The two brothers froze, glancing around the barren seafloor.

Nothing.

No plant life. No magic beasts. No caverns. No caves.

Just an empty, endless stretch of ocean floor.

They struggled to hold back their silence—before Beelzebub's silhouette materialized behind Zenon with a sigh.

"Look up."

Frowning, the two brothers slowly tilted their heads back, gazes scanning the dark waters above.

At first, there was nothing.

Then their bodies went rigid.

The thick, dark water suddenlycleared, brightening as if the ocean itself had turned to glass, stripping away its obscurity.

And then—miles above, at the very top of the sea—they saw it.

A clear, blue sky.

Their breath caught.

Because in the next instant, that skyshifted—transforming into a vast starry night, a celestial expanse filled with swirling auroras, ethereal streams of light cascading across the heavens.

And then—

The stars faded.

Leaving behind onlytwenty-eightshining points in the southwest.

The stars began to shift. Connecting.

Forming a constellation.

A great hunter, poised with his bowstring drawn.

Zenon's breath hitched. He knew that shape.

He had seen it before.

During his childhood.

During those quiet nights of stargazing with Allen.

"...Orion...?" he whispered, half in disbelief.

"Yes," Beelzebub answered. "Right now, the two of you are standing inside aninvisibleancient formation. From this exact point, Orion is the only constellation you can see with such clarity."

Dante stroked his chin, intrigued. A calm smile spread across his face.

"Well... that's interesting and all."

His eyes gleamed.

"But what's thepoint?"

This time, Lucifero answered.

"You are in a divine prison of old. There is onlyonecell and onlyoneprisoner. The cell is Orion. And the prisoner... is inside, trapped—forced to eternally look down upon the world heyearnsto dominate yet can nevertouch."

Zenon clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. "Ishethe old friend you spoke of? Are we here to free him? Because if we are, I want answers first.Whois he?Whatis he? How do youknowthis place? And what is yourconnection?!"

Dante raised an eyebrow at Zenon's uncharacteristic outburst before chuckling, amused. "Much as I yearn for my world of malice, I'm not so blinded as to follow your plans without question. We have a mutual deal—weuseeach other to get what we want... Yet lately, I feel I'm theonlyone being used. It's time to explain, Lucifero."

"Tsk."

Lucifero clicked his tongue in irritation before snorting. "Fine. But I'llonlyexplain this once, and youwilllisten. Any questionswon'tbe tolerated. Understood?"

Dante and Zenon exchanged glances before nodding.

Lucifero snorted again.

Dante's forehead mark split open, jagged like a gaping maw, swirling with deep violet energy as Lucifero's voice emerged from within.

"First, you need tounderstand—there are multiple kinds of devils. Some arenatural-born. Others are those whofall—who give in to despair, lose their grace, or have itrippedfrom them."

His voice darkened.

"Beelzebub and I belong to thelastcategory.

We... arebanished angelsof Heaven."

Dante and Zenon's pupils shrank.

Lucifero continued without a care.

"We are not theonlyfallen angels in history. Just thefirst."

"Millennia afterourfall, a certain group ofrebelliousangels descended to this world.

There were 200 of them.

And they committedallmanner of sins—violating Heaven's mandate, leading humanity and other racesastray."

Lucifero's tone dripped with disdain.

"They were called theGrigori."

"Naturally, thosefoolswere punished. Slaughtered.Erased.

Buttwoof their leaders... were spared.

Death was deemed toomercifulfor them."

Lucifero's voice reverberated through the gravitational sphere.

"They wereturnedinto devils.Imprisoned.

One of them is up there. In Orion."

Silence.

The weight of Lucifero's words hung in the water, unspoken questions pressing down on the Zogratis brothers.

Finally, Dante spoke.

"Where's theotherone?"

"Isaidno questions." Lucifero sneered.

Beelzebub chuckled. "You can't justdropthat on them and expect them to stay silent."

Lucifero snorted but said nothing.

Beelzebub sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I'll answer—butkeep your questions to a minimum."

He paused, then continued.

"Theotherone was imprisoned in the underworld with the rest of us.

Once, he served as theSeventhSupreme Devil.

The ruler of theThird Stratum."

Zenon's eyes sharpened. "Once?"

Beelzebub nodded.

"He disappeared. Just likeAstaroth."

Zenon didn't press further.

Dante, however, smirked. "And howstrongis this guy we're trying to free?"

Beelzebub's voice was calm.

"He's on par with Baal and Megicula."

Dante's grin widened.

"Then he should bemorethan capable of handlingthatwoman."

Beelzebub chuckled, his tone edged with mockery.

"Yes, butHewill likely need time—to recover fromHisinjuries, to regainHispower... and even ifHedoes, whetherHe'dbewillingto help is another matter entirely."

Zenon narrowed his eyes, then glanced at the jagged maw on his elder brother's forehead.

"...Is this what you meant when you said you'd rathernotdo this?" His voice was low, calculating. "Is this guy anuntrustworthyally? If so, maybe we shouldn't free him at all."

Silence.

Then, Lucifero's voice rumbled.

"Thereare... complications in working with thatone, I admit. But none that areterriblyinconvenient forus.

Not only willHekeepthat woman—and others—off our backs... but when the time comes,Hemay also aid in theAdvent of Qliphothritual."

Dante folded his arms, unimpressed.

"And what makes you so sure?" His voice carried a sharp edge. "Because you all have a mutualgrudgeagainst Heaven? That meansnothing. The enemy of my enemy is not necessarilymyfriend.

How can you be certain that once this guy isfreeand fully restored... he won't justtakethis world for himself?"

Beelzebub chuckled darkly.

"That's a fair question. Averyfair one."

His shadow flickered.

"But that guy... HehatesHeaven just as much as we do—perhapsevenmore. And He isjustas willing to do anything to screw them over.

Not to mention... ifHewants tokeephis freedom, he'll needallies.Powerfulones. Releasingusis just a matter of course."

Zenon raised a brow.

"Is it? Will Heaven notknowof his escape? Will they notcapturehim the moment he's free? And won'twebe implicated—"

"You don't need to worry aboutthat."

Lucifero's voice snapped like a whip, his irritation bleeding through.

"Do we look likefoolsincapable of foreseeing the consequences of our actions?! Thoseslavesup there haveproblemsof their own—problems that keep them from acting, fromdescending!

This world... isoursto take.

This world... isourplayground.

Andnothingwill stand in our way."

He exhaled sharply.

"Now, if you two aredonewasting time—can we get thisover withandfree that lech?!"

Dante and Zenon exchanged a glance.

Dante was the first to speak, his usual calm smile returning.

"Fine. What do we need to do?"

Beelzebub answered in Lucifero's place.

"Both of you—use yourfullpower."

Neither hesitated.

They channeled their devils' power to theabsolutelimit.

Dante—80% of Lucifero's.

Zenon—40% of Beelzebub's.

Darkness surged.

Dante's transformation was complete—his bodyencasedin pitch-black save for his face, which bore only two sleek black lines running down either side. His eyes sharpened into vertical red slits.

Four horns—two small ones sprouting outward from his forehead, two larger ones jutting from the sides of his head.

Twopairsof bat-like wings spread from his back—one set large and imposing, the other lean and angled downward.

At the center of his chest, acircularstar pulsed with power, encased by awhitering.

A long tail extended behind him, itstippedend mirroring the symbol on his chest.

Zenon's transformation was far lessstriking—yet no less potent.

Two curved horns—onewhite, the otherblack.

Two bat-like wings spread from his back.

And thecross-likemark on the right side of his face... expanded.

As soon as they finished transforming, Beelzebub's voice rang out once more.

"Zenon, just like we said before—you are within the prison that houses the cellOrion.Meaning, you are not far from that star cluster.

Focus on the change in space around you.Graspthe channel that connects this spot to that celestial array—warp to the head of the constellation."

Zenon closed his eyes, concentrating.

Meanwhile, Lucifero's voice echoed in Dante's mind.

"Dante, ensure yourgravitational spheredoesn't collapse. Youhumanscan't last long without air—you're toofragile, even withourpower."

Dante clicked his tongue in irritation but said nothing. He clenched his fist, reinforcing the gravitational sphere encasing him and his brother. Itcompacted, layering itself, becoming far moreresilient—yet never losing its transparent sheen.

The moment he completed the motion, Zenon's eyes snapped open. He stretched out his arms.

In an instant, their gravitational sphere was encased within a dark blue cube ofsevered space—cross-like marks etched into its sides.

Then—space began to twist.

Their surroundingsmorphed,flickering between a vaststarry skyand the endlessblack oceanthey floated in. The two landscapeswrestled,oscillatingback and forth—until, finally, the night skywon out.

And they warped forward.

One moment—they werethere.

The next—they werenot.

Theyreappearedin front of the brilliant, burning star that marked Orion's head.

As soon as they did, Dantegritted his teeth—expanding even more power to keep theirgravitational spherefromcrumplingunder the crushing pressure of the star.

The sphereshudderedviolently—but after a moment, itstabilized.

Dante exhaled, relieved.

Then, lifting his gaze, he took in the celestial mass before them.

His eyesnarrowed.

Across thewhite-hotstar's shell, intricatemagical sigilsandancient runespulsed with power—many of which he hadneverseen before.

Dante scratched his chin.

"So... now what? What exactly are we supposed to—"

A voice interrupted him.

A voice that was—

Ancient. Yet youthful. Emotionless. Yet mocking. Calm.Yetseductive.

"Oh?Whathave we here?"

Dante and Zenonfroze.

Their eyes locked onto the glowing star—watching as ablack silhouettecame into focus within itscore.

A figure.

They could barelymake outits shape through the overwhelming light, but the outline wasmassive—almostgiant.

Twofeathered wingsstretched from its back.

Clipped. Torn.Mangled.

A deepindentmarred its chest—a scar, perhaps?

The silhouette's physique wasrugged,jagged—its entire body lined withsharp, protruding spikes.

Then—itsright handlifted, clawed fingers scratching its chin with grotesquely elongated nails, as thoughsizing them up.

"...Humans?"

The voice was laced with something unreadable.

"Ye possess asimilaraura to some of mysons... wait—"

Itpaused.

Then—

Itlaughed.

A deep,resoundinglaugh.

"Hah... hah... hah... hah..."

The sound rolled through space, vibrating through thevery airaround them.

"This be trulyunexpected.

Beelzebub,old friend—and be thatLuciferI sense as well? To think... that there would come adaywhen the two oftheewould seekmeout.

It seems as though you have made somegrand blunder—someoversightso great, that ye now crawl tothe lowly mefor aid—"

"Silence, Samyaza!"

Lucifero sneered.

Hissilhouettematerialized behind Dante, radiating fury.

"Do you wantout—ornot?!"

The figure—Samyaza—did not agree immediately. It merely continued scratching its chin.

"What are thy conditions?"

Lucifero snorted.

"Cause as muchchaosin the world as you please—however it suits you—so long as youleave the kingdom these two rule out of it."

Samyaza's silhouettetiltedits head.

"That can't merely be all."

Lucifero scoffed.

"Specifically target theClover Kingdom.And—when ourhostsrequire your aid—youwillprovide it."

A pause.

Samyaza's voice remained indifferent.

"What may be thisClover Kingdom?And what may be the kingdom of these two?"

Lucifero's patiencefrayed.

Before he could snap, Beelzebub'ssilhouettemanifested behind Zenon, speaking up with utter nonchalance.

"Clover is thatfilthyMount Sinai. And these two belong toSpade,your dear oldMount Hermon.

Now—are you done with yourquestions?We can't obscure ourselves fromHisgaze for much longer."

At those words, Samyaza's silhouettetensed.

Its fistclenched.A sharp hiss escaped—

"Enoch... that traitor..."

A slow exhale.

Then, with a measured nod—

"Very well. I will cooperate with thee.

Buthowdo you intend tofreeme, as restrained asthouart?

I do not supposethouhast the key toRaphael's binding?"

Lucifero said nothing.

Instead, he turned his gaze downward.

"Dante.Outstretch your arm."

Dante blinked. But he obeyed.

The moment he did, hefroze.

A suddenrushofLucifero's manapoured into him—spilling through their spiritual bond like an overflowing dam.

Then—his pupilsdilated.

Aflameflickered to life in his palm.

Ablack flame.

Dante's thoughts screamed.

Fire?!

Lucifero's power wasgravity.What is this—

Samyaza's voice cut through his mind.

"Lucifer... thou hast truly done somethingdeplorable."

His silhouette stroked its chin, smiling. Almostmockingly.

"I pitypoorSatanael—"

"Silence, you lowly cur!" Luciferosnapped.

Then—turning back to Dante—

"Throw that flame at the star."

Dante didn't.

Instead, henarrowedhis eyes.

"How can you usefire?I thought your power waslimitedto 80% with theGateshut. How are you channelingmore?Who isSatanael?And why does he keep calling youLucifer?"

Lucifero's voice turned sharp.

"No morequestions,Dante.

My name wasLuciferbefore I fell from grace.

I go byLuciferonow.

That's all youneedto know.

Now—flick the flame.

Or ourcontractis void.

You arenotasirreplaceableto me as you maythink."

Dante's jaw tightened.

Then, with a sneer, he glanced at Zenon.

Wordlessly, Zenon lifted his hand—wavinga smallspatial pocketopen before Dante.

Dante exhaled.

And with a flick of his wrist—

Theblack flameshot into thespatial pocket,vanishing.

A moment later—itreappearedoutside thegravitational sphereand streaked toward thewhite starthat imprisoned Samyaza.

The impact wasinstantaneous.

The black flamedevouredthesigilsadorning the star's shell.

It burnedthroughthe white-hot mass likeice melting in fire.

As if thestar itselfwas never a smolderinginferno—but somethingfragile.

Then—

Samyaza's silhouettedisappeared.

A flicker—

And suddenly—

He stood before them.

Insidethe gravitational sphere.

Dante and Zenon's eyeswent wide.

The being before them didnotmatch thedemonicsilhouette they had seen within the star.

He was—

Human-like.

Butwrong.

Butt-naked.

Long,goldenhair cascaded down his back.

Strikingredeyes gleamed with something unreadable.

Flawlessskinso pristine it could makeany womanenvious.

A perfectlysculptedphysique—like something out of myth.

Then—he raised his hands toward them.

Acarefreesmile on his lips.

Dante and Zenontensed.

Then—stiffened in horror.

Because in that moment—

They realized—

Theycould not move.

Samyaza opened his mouth.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?"

TheShakespeareanundertone in his voice wasgone.

And it wasn't really aquestion.

Samyaza placed a hand on both of their shoulders.

Then—

Theyblinked.

And—

Their surroundingschanged.

The Spade Kingdom throne room.

They wereback.

Dante and Zenon stumbled—disoriented.

Samyaza merelyloweredhis arms, smiling.

"It'sgreatto be back."

Then—hegrinned.

"Come—let'scelebratemy freedom for the first time intwo millennia!"

He threw his arms out in grandexuberance.

"Bring out thewineand thewomen!!!"

Dante and Zenonblinked.

They exchanged a glance.

Huh?

—

Heaven

Far east of theGrand Temple,a man sat by a crystal-clear river.

Tall. Athletic.

Golden hair cascaded down his back, framing a face tooperfectto belong to mortals.

Anemeraldeye gleamed beneath the sun.

In his hands—

A simplewooden staff,like a walking stick.

A singlestringdangled from it, touching the water's surface.

It looked likefishing.

But the water wasclear.

And there were nofish.

He smiled. Soft. Content.

Then—heblinked.

His head tilted downward—

Not toward theriver.

Throughit.

Beyondit.

His gaze stretched acrossspace.

Then—

A click of the tongue.

Mild interest.

"Thatlechis free?"

A pause.

"And was that...Satanael'spower?"

His brows furrowed.

"Isn't he supposed to bedead...?"

A shrug.

A smile.

And just like that—

He went back tofishing.

Without a care in theworld.

NotHisproblem.

—

Author's Notes:

[1]There are alot of different depictions of Samyaza in abrahamic traditions, cultures, and religions, so keep that in mind, if mine isn't familiar to the one you know of.

[2]As always feel free to join the discord at: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar

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