Final Gate of Hell
Azreal stood silently, his obsidian armor glowing faintly under the swirling crimson sky. His sharp, violet eyes scanned the path beyond the Gate, calm yet watchful. Hulk approached, his footsteps heavy with nervous energy, and beside him walked Aria — barefoot, with messy silver hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes.
They stopped before the throne at the Gate, where Azreal sat like a god of judgment.
"You've returned," Azreal said, his voice deep and composed.
Aria tilted her head with a small grin. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
As she stepped forward to greet him, the rope holding her robes suddenly snapped. Her clothes slid down in a whisper of silk, fluttering around her ankles like petals falling from a flower.
"Kyaaa!" Aria shrieked, clutching herself as her face turned crimson. "Don't look!!"
Hulk immediately spun around, face flushed red. "I-I didn't see anything! I swear! I mean—maybe just a little—no! I didn't!"
Azreal blinked once, expression unchanging. Then he rose from his throne, walked down the steps with calm strides, and removed the long black cloak draped across his shoulders. Without a word, he wrapped it around Aria's trembling figure.
"You're still as clumsy as ever," he said softly.
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "You're not… mad?"
Azreal allowed a rare, faint smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. "How could I be mad at someone who never changes?"
Hulk gawked. He didn't flinch at all… Even Lord Malphas freaked out when he saw her by accident… Azreal's got the mental fortitude of a demon king!
Azreal gestured toward one of the black-clad maids at the edge of the courtyard. "Take her to my quarters. Let her change."
The maid bowed. "Yes, my lord."
Azreal turned back toward his throne without another word. Hulk stayed frozen for a moment, watching in disbelief as Aria was led away, still wrapped in Azreal's cloak.
"You're dismissed," Azreal said flatly.
"Y-Yessir!" Hulk vanished in a flash of smoke.
Moments later, the heavy doors opened again.
Aria stepped back into the courtyard, now wearing a long, flowing golden dress. She twirled once in the soft firelight, smiling brightly.
"Ta-da! Looks better, right?"
Azreal looked at her calmly from his throne. "That's the royal wardrobe."
"Well, I am a princess, you know."
"You're in Hell, Aria."
She walked up the steps and plopped down beside him, ignoring the cold stone of his throne. "So serious, geez… Why do you always sit like that? Like you're guarding some ancient treasure."
"I am."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "So… will you finally let me go to Heaven?"
Azreal exhaled quietly. "You're saying it again."
"I'm not supposed to be here! I was a good person! I donated to orphans!"
"You scammed people to make that money."
"…It still helped the kids."
Azreal looked down at her. "The Soul Gate doesn't lie, Aria."
She puffed her cheeks. "Then someone lied on its behalf. I'm telling you — this is all a mistake."
Before he could respond, the Gate creaked open again.
A knight in silver-black armor knelt before the throne. "Forgive the intrusion, Lord Azreal. Lord Damantia has arrived. He awaits your permission."
Azreal's expression shifted subtly. "Let him in."
The flames along the sides of the Gate flared as a tall man entered — dressed in a gleaming robe of white and gold, a burning scale floating behind his back. His face was stoic, his eyes cold and sharp.
Damantia. The Soul Judge.
Aria's eyes lit up. "You!"
Damantia looked at her blankly. "...Do I know you?"
"You're the one who judged me! You're the reason I'm stuck in this burning hole!"
She stormed down the steps and jabbed a finger toward him — only to trip on the hem of her golden dress.
"Waaah!"
She tumbled forward. Damantia calmly stepped aside, letting her fall face-first into the dirt.
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
"Y-You're the worst! You couldn't even catch me?!"
"You're the same girl who tried to bribe a soul warden with kisses, aren't you?"
Aria looked away, muttering. "I was desperate…"
Azreal sighed. "Enough, Aria. Wait outside."
"But—!"
"Now."
"Tch." She turned and stomped away, grumbling.
As the door closed behind her, the atmosphere turned serious.
Azreal leaned forward. "What's the matter?"
Damantia stepped closer, the burning scale floating behind him shifting faintly. "It's about the recent Infernal attacks. The ones with horns."
Azreal's eyes narrowed. "I've already met with the Five Pillars. We're investigating."
"I've seen the souls of a few that were captured. They weren't ordinary Infernals."
Azreal stayed silent.
Damantia's voice dropped lower. "They had the mark of corruption. And… they could speak. You know what that means."
Azreal's fingers tapped the armrest once. "I do."
"Then you must consider the possibility," Damantia said. "It could be someone within."
Azreal's eyes grew colder. "I will not doubt my own Pillars."
"You entrusted each of them with a Gate. But you know better than anyone—ambition rots even the noblest."
Azreal looked away. "I've already sent the Hell Archivist to investigate. I'll act once I have evidence."
Damantia nodded once, then turned to leave—but paused.
"There's one more thing," Azreal said.
He raised a hand, and a flicker of violet mana danced at his fingertip. "Aria's soul. You judged her three years ago. Her sin value was… unusually low."
"I remember."
Azreal looked him dead in the eyes. "Then why was she sent to the Soul gate for judgement ?"
Damantia's expression darkened. "You think it's related?"
"I think someone's tampering with the Gate system."
The flames around the throne surged slightly. Damantia turned back to him, voice grave. "I'll reopen her case. Quietly."
Azreal's voice was firm. "Good. When it's done, we'll hold a telepathic summit. No secrets. This ends now."
Damantia gave a slight nod. "As you wish… Lord Azreal."
With a flicker of light, the Soul Judge vanished, leaving only the scent of burning incense behind.
Azreal sat alone on the throne, his eyes closed.
"…Even the dead can be deceived," he murmured.
The sky above cracked faintly with distant thunder.