At last, the nightmare was over.
Akiel, Lilith, and Zaass—the last of those fiends—had vanished, leaving behind a battlefield drenched in exhaustion and loss.
A fragile tranquility began to settle, yet it was far from comforting.
The damage had been done.
They had suffered heavy losses.
Rai, now fully restored but still unconscious, lay on the ground beside Pragaya, who remained frozen in silent contemplation.
Nearby, Leviticus—the Elmag— took charge.
With a swift gesture, he signaled to the guards.
"Secure the perimeter. Assist the injured. Begin relief and reconstruction immediately."
As his orders were carried out, he turned to a woman standing beside him—her presence both commanding and gentle.
His wife, Lara.
"How is he, Lara?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.
She gave him a knowing look, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"Now, dear, you should be the last person worrying."
Leviticus let out a chuckle, shaking his head.
"I suppose you're right, my dear."
Pragaya stood up and made his way toward Leviticus, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, it seemed like he was about to thank him.
He stepped in close—so close that they could practically feel each other's breath.
Leviticus raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever solemn words Pragaya had to say.
Then—without warning—Pragaya's arm shot up.
But instead of offering a handshake or words of gratitude...
He wrapped his right arm around Leviticus's neck and yanked him down.
Before the mighty Elmag could react, Pragaya delivered a ruthless noogie, furiously rubbing his knuckles into his head.
The sudden shift from tension to playful roughhousing left onlookers stunned.
It was such a stark contrast to the intense atmosphere just moments ago that some couldn't help but blink in disbelief—while others stifled laughs.
"What took you so long?! Are you too good to protect your own father now?!" Pragaya barked, yanking Leviticus into a headlock and giving him another rough noogie for good measure.
Silence.
Then—
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTT?!!!"
The reaction was deafening. Kromus, Shelly, Luthor—and hilariously, even Lara—practically jumped out of their skin, their voices overlapping in sheer disbelief. The sheer absurdity of the revelation hit them like a crashing wave.
But then, almost in unison, they all slowly turned toward Lara, their heads tilting in exaggerated confusion. Their expressions screamed: Why the heck are YOU shocked?!
Shelly, still slack-jawed, finally voiced what they were all thinking. "Wait… why the heck are you surprised?!"
Lara blinked, her lips twitching, before crossing her arms and puffing her cheeks like a child caught in a lie.
"I just wanted to fit in…" she muttered, casting her gaze downward in mock embarrassment.
A thick, awkward silence followed as the group processed her ridiculous response. Kromus let out a defeated sigh, while Luthor simply shook his head. Shelly, however, seemed personally offended.
"Unbelievable," she huffed, arms crossed. "You can't just 'fit in' with a WHAT?!-moment, Lara! That's illegal!"
Lara gasped dramatically. "I don't care if it's illegal, I'll do what I want!"
And just like that, the two devolved into a childish squabble, throwing frantic slaps and weak punches at each other in the air.
"And besides, it's not even illegal!" Lara added mid-slap.
"Ya-huh!" Shelly shot back.
"Nuh-uh!"
"Ya-huh!"
"Nuh-uh!"
Leviticus, still trapped in Pragaya's iron grip, let out a muffled groan. "Can someone help me out here?!"
"You're not going anywhere until you answer me, boy," Pragaya said firmly, his tone heavy with authority. The playful mood vanished in an instant, replaced by an unsettling tension. "I thought I had raised you better."
Leviticus, still catching his breath, finally broke free from his father's grip—though deep down, he knew it was because Pragaya had allowed it. He met his father's gaze, his usual confident demeanor giving way to something more subdued. "I know, Father. I know. But if it weren't for Shelly, I wouldn't be here at all."
At that moment, a brilliant glow illuminated the sky. A majestic phoenix, Shelly's Phoenix, its vibrant feathers of burning orange and crimson outshining even the sun, descended gracefully. As it shrank down in size, it landed on Shelly's shoulder, nuzzling its head against her cheek with an almost affectionate gesture.
Pragaya's expression hardened even further. "Don't screw with me, boy," he growled, his piercing gaze locking onto Leviticus. "The Hellriser told me this was a culling. And you're telling me the Elemental Magistrate wasn't aware?"
His attention suddenly snapped toward Lara. Realizing the gravity of the situation, she immediately dropped her childish spat with Shelly, straightening up with royal poise. With her hands neatly interlocked in front, just below her waist, she met Pragaya's gaze with an unreadable expression.
"And you—the second in command, the Magistrate General—don't tell me you had no idea either," Pragaya said, his voice laced with venom. His sharp gaze locked onto Lara. "Do you have any idea how much worse things could have gotten if not for that boy lying there?"
He thrust a finger toward Rai, his body still unconscious on the battlefield. "If he hadn't awakened his mutation at that crucial moment, buying me just enough time to assess the situation... who knows how many more would have died today?"
Silence. The weight of his words settled over them like an unshakable fog. No one could deny the truth in them.
Pragaya clenched his jaw, hesitating for a brief moment. It was as if he wanted to say something more—something that wasn't meant to be revealed just yet. But he swallowed it back.
Instead, he turned his piercing gaze to Lara once more. "Rai could have died if not for you."
The air grew heavy. Meanwhile, the soldiers and Elemental Knights had begun relief operations, tending to the wounded and securing the area. Yet, on the battlefield itself, only the main figures remained—Pragaya, Kromus, Shelly, Luthor, Leviticus, Lara… and Rai, still motionless on the ground.
"I hope you understand my frustration, boy." Pragaya's voice was firm as his sharp gaze locked onto Leviticus once more. "You know your duties. You know—" He stopped himself, biting back his next words. His hesitation carried weight, a silent burden that only he, Leviticus, and Lara seemed to understand.
A tense silence hung in the air before he continued. "You know the promise we made."
Kromus, Shelly, and Luthor exchanged confused glances, the weight of Pragaya's words lost on them. But Leviticus and Lara remained still, their expressions grim, as if an unspoken truth loomed between them.
Then, Pragaya's tone darkened. "Do you have any idea what would happen if they found out?"
The air grew heavy. The silence stretched, suffocating.
Sensing the need to de-escalate, Lara quickly stepped in. "Alright, you three," she said, turning toward Kromus, Shelly, and Luthor. "Why don't you take Rai to the infirmary and check on the injured?"
"I don't wanna go! I wanna know what you're talking about!" Shelly whined, steam practically puffing from her head in frustration. Her tiny fists clenched, her face scrunched in defiance. Even her phoenix, perched on her shoulder, seemed embarrassed, looking away as if disowning her behavior.
Kromus, in stark contrast, remained eerily quiet. He wasn't usually the most expressive, but this time, his silence spoke volumes. His mind was racing, looping through the impossible sight he had just witnessed—Rai using magic, despite his normal eyes. A mutation unlike anything known.
What did this mean for the future?
He didn't have the answers.
Wordlessly, he bent down, lifting Rai onto his back. His movements were mechanical, his thoughts elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Luthor, ever the responsible one, took the liberty of hauling Shelly over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as she continued her tantrum. "Put me down! I have a right to know! This is oppression!" she howled, flailing her arms.
"Sure, sure," Luthor muttered dryly, unbothered as he carried her away.
With the three of them gone, only Pragaya, Leviticus, and Lara remained on the battlefield—alongside the lingering tension of whatever unspoken truth had yet to be revealed.
Lara let out a quiet sigh of relief, but the tension in the air remained thick. Pragaya was still locked in a silent stare-down with Leviticus, the weight of his disappointment pressing down on his son. Leviticus, for his part, met his father's gaze with a mix of guilt and unease, as if carrying a burden too heavy to explain in just a few words.
Lara turned back to them, her voice soft but firm. "Dear, I don't think it's respectful to stay silent anymore."
Pragaya, however, had no patience for tact. "Yeah, boy, SPEAK!" His voice thundered with frustration. "How did the Elmag not realize that a high-level Hellriser was here?!" His question cut through the air like a blade. He was, of course, referring to Corp.
"It is your job to ensure that these high-level beasts are dealt with the moment they step foot outside of Hell!" Pragaya continued, his anger barely restrained. "What were your Elemental Knights doing that was so much more important than dealing with a high-level Hellriser?!" His voice dripped with both frustration and genuine concern.
His eyes darkened as he scoffed. "Forget the four clan heads—those arrogant fools are too busy judging people by their eyes to be of any real use." There was clear disdain in his voice. "But you, Leviticus… you are my son. You are different."
He took a step forward, his voice lowering but becoming even heavier. "So tell me, why were you not here?"
Leviticus let out a heavy sigh, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on him. He lifted his gaze to Pragaya, his expression conflicted. "Dad… this wasn't a culling."
Pragaya's brows furrowed. "Wh-what do you mean?" His voice carried genuine confusion.
Leviticus hesitated for a moment, then exhaled sharply. Pragaya, growing impatient, continued. "It's obvious—the demons used the culling as a distraction to launch their real attack." He paused, his voice tightening. "And that attack… was meant for me."
Leviticus remained silent, his expression unreadable. Pragaya studied him, his confusion deepening. "They must know what I'm capable of… or at least what I'll become. They want me out of the picture before I can reach my true strength."
Another sigh escaped Leviticus as he took a step forward, his gaze locking onto his father's. "No, Dad. They didn't attack anywhere else."
Pragaya stiffened. "What?"
Leviticus continued, his voice unwavering. "It was a targeted attack. They only came here."
The realization hit Pragaya like a hammer. His mind raced to piece everything together, but before he could respond, Leviticus pressed on.
"None of us saw this coming. If not for the Phoenix Shelly sent ahead…" He trailed off, watching as Pragaya's eyes flickered with understanding. Shelly had been fighting the entire battle without her Phoenix—because she had sent it ahead as a warning.
Pragaya took a slow breath, the weight of the situation settling in. "So you're telling me… the Hellrisers came here specifically?"
Leviticus nodded grimly. "Yes. And the fact that Lilith was among them… it means they have at least some idea of what's going on."
Pragaya's expression darkened. "But not the full picture?"
Leviticus crossed his arms. "I don't think so. If they knew everything… Akiel wouldn't have just walked away without a fight."
A heavy silence filled the space between them. The implications were too great to ignore.
Lara stepped in, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "So… how much do you think they know?"
The question hung in the air, unanswered. No one spoke. No one dared to.
Then—
The scene shifts.
Deep within the underworld, the wretched domain of Purgatory stretches endlessly, a land of despair overflowing with pain, suffering, and agony. The souls of the damned screech and gnash their teeth, writhing in eternal torment—not enough to kill them, but enough to make them wish they had never been born.
Yet, amidst this grotesque nightmare, laughter echoes.
The Hellrisers. The Infernals. The Fiends. The Demons.
They revel in the suffering, basking in the anguish of the forsaken. Once human, they had long abandoned their souls, consumed by the temptations of the Devil, now nothing more than beasts in humanoid form.
Deeper still, the scene shifts again—
A colossal throne room, an abyss of malevolence.
The walls are adorned with grotesque gargoyles and twisted demonic carvings, bathed in the sickly glow of blood-red light. Shadows slither and stretch infinitely, as if the darkness itself were alive. And at the heart of it all—
A flash of movement.
Three figures step forward, returning from their mission.
Akiel. Lilith. Zaass.
Akiel, as authoritative as ever, exuded malevolence and brutal command as he took to his throne. The atmosphere of the grand chamber grew heavier with his presence, the very air thick with an unspoken dread.
From the shadows, figures began to emerge—Akiel's demon generals. There were supposed to be seven of them, including Lilith, yet only two others stepped forward.
The first was Lamia, a vision of lethargic beauty draped in an aura of eerie tranquility. Her upper body resembled that of a flawless, porcelain-skinned woman untouched by strain, her long, silken black hair cascading like ink, shifting subtly as if alive. Her half-lidded eyes, a hypnotic blend of violet and gold, held a distant, dreamlike quality, yet beneath that languid gaze lurked a power capable of ensnaring minds and drowning souls in eternal stupor.
But below the waist, her form betrayed the truth—where legs should have been, a massive, coiling serpent's tail gleamed under the dim infernal light, each iridescent scale shifting between deep emerald and ghostly silver, as though reflecting unseen moons.
Beside her stood Aamon, a figure of quiet authority and unsettling wisdom. Draped in flowing black silks and embroidered robes, he carried himself with an air of refined nobility, his every movement measured, deliberate. His face, inhuman yet dignified, bore the likeness of an owl—sharp, calculated, with piercing golden eyes that stripped away deception and laid bare the weaknesses of those before him.
Despite his imposing presence, his demeanor was eerily calm, his voice smooth and composed. Aamon did not need brute force to command respect; his mere gaze, filled with the weight of unseen knowledge, was enough to make even demons hesitate.
Their arrival was silent, yet the weight of their presence filled the throne room. They bowed before Akiel, awaiting his word.
The Demon Generals knelt before Akiel, but Zaass remained standing beside him. His usual sophisticated demeanor was intact, yet this time, his words dripped with arrogance.
"Lilith, you fool. Was it so hard to follow simple instructions?"
Lilith scowled, clenching her fists. "I—" but before she could finish, an overwhelming force filled the throne room.
Zaass's aura erupted like an explosion, a presence so terrifying it seemed to distort reality itself. The sheer pressure in the room intensified, as if gravity had tripled. The walls groaned, the shadows flickered, and the weaker demons trembled, barely holding their forms together.
But the others—the Demon Generals, Akiel, even Lilith—remained unshaken. This was not a surprise to them. They had always known.
Zaass was strong. Frighteningly so.
Zaass's golden eyes gleamed as he continued, his voice smooth yet laced with disdain.
"I told you, Lilith. I was going to pretend to be your servant, someone beneath you, to gather intel on those monkeys—to see if any of them were worth our interest."
He paused, his disappointment palpable.
Akiel, seated on his throne, was equally displeased. His fingers tapped against the armrest, irritation flashing in his burning eyes. Their mission had been ruined—all because of Lilith's recklessness.
Zaass clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
"Because of your incompetence, we failed to fully assess them."
Lilith remained silent, swallowing her frustration. There was no point in arguing—Zaass was right. And worse, she knew he would never let her forget it.
Lamia and Aamon chuckled in amusement, their mocking laughter echoing through the grand, blood-red hall. But then—
A deafening roar tore through the air.
"SILENCE!!"
Akiel's voice was absolute. The very foundations of the throne room trembled. Even hell itself seemed to hold its breath.
He stepped forward, his cold, burning gaze sweeping across the room. "Do you find it funny?" His voice dripped with disdain. "That the very reason we went there was ruined?" His eyes narrowed. "Do you understand what would happen if those monkeys found it before us?"
Akiel snapped his fingers, as if recalling something trivial. "Leviticus... Ah, yes, that useless ape." He scoffed. "For now, he is the only one worth keeping an eye on. At least until that bastard father of his regains his true authority."
Zaass let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "What's even funnier, my lord, is that those fools actually believe we don't know who they are."
Akiel smirked as their laughter filled the chamber, but the demon generals—Lamia, Aamon, and Lilith—remained silent.
Then, without missing a beat, Akiel turned his gaze to Zaass. "And our other mission?"
Zaass shifted his attention toward Lamia and Aamon. Without hesitation, Aamon stepped forward. "The search progresses well, my lord. I believe we are very close to finding the first Sacred Treasure of Brahma."
Akiel gave a small nod of approval, then waved his hand dismissively. Lamia and Aamon bowed deeply before vanishing into the darkness.
Only Lilith remained.
Zaass turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Well, little missy, thanks to your reckless actions, we never got the confirmation we needed." His eyes gleamed as he added, "But the voices of the Great Devil, Lucifer, have already spoken." His grin widened. "We know he is back."
Lilith stiffened.
Zaass's voice darkened. "So now, it's your job to find us a lead on him. And don't screw this up."
Lilith clenched her jaw, then bowed. Without another word, she vanished into the abyss.
"Alright, now let's get down to business," Zaass declared.
The scene shifted back to the battlefield, where Leviticus, Pragaya, and Lara remained, the weight of Lara's question still hanging in the air.
Leviticus stepped forward, his expression grim. "I just hope they don't know too much. I hope they haven't discovered—"
Before he could finish, the story cut back to Hell.
Akiel, seated on his throne, smirked as he uttered the very words Leviticus had dreaded.
"The Ark of the Covenant."