Seele sprinted down the labyrinthine corridors of their base, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls.
She was racing against time, desperate to reach the outside world, to assess the damage wrought by The Devils' raid.
Her ears picked up the faint sounds of screaming and a subtle tremor that echoed through the building, a constant reminder of the chaos unfolding just outside their heavily fortified walls.
With every step she took, her mind was filled with a mixture of anxiety and determination.
Seele's heart hammered in her chest, each beat a palpable reminder of the fear and uncertainty gnawing at her. As she made her way through the dimly lit corridors, she muttered a silent prayer, her voice hardly above a whisper.
"Please, please let me get there in time,"
She begged silently, above a whisper, her voice cracking with desperation.
The distant sounds of battle grew ever-so-slightly louder, the screams and cries now more distinguishable than before. The floor beneath her feet started to tremble with increasing force.
She raced through the hallways with frantic urgency, her heart pounding with the rhythm of the tremors beneath her feet.
The distant sounds of battle grew louder, punctuated by the sharp crack of clashing of swords and the muffled thud of explosions. Sweat trickled down her forehead as she pushed herself to go faster.
Each turn she took brought her one step closer to the outer exit, and with it, closer to the chaos that awaited her.
Yet, despite the fear that gnawed at her, she quickened her pace even more, determined to reach the outside and do her part.
As the door swung open, Seele's eyes widened in horror at the scene that lay before her.
The damage was extensive, the once-vibrant landscape now littered with the wreckage of buildings crumbling and flames dancing in a macabre waltz.
The Devils' destruction was evident everywhere she looked - the shattered windows, the crumbling walls, the smoldering pieces of her division headquarters now scattered like rubble.
Her heart clenched as she took it all in, the realization of the scope of their devastation sinking in like lead in her gut.
The sight of her fallen comrades struck her deeply, their still forms scattered across the battlefield.
The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and blood, the metallic tang of death thick in her nostrils.
Amidst the chaos, a handful of her remaining comrades were still fighting, their movements frenzied and desperate as they valiantly attempted to hold back the tide of enemy forces.
As her gaze scanned the battlefield, Seele's attention was immediately drawn to two of her most formidable comrades, Kämpfen and Verdadero.
Kämpfen, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, exuded an air of effortless strength. Each blow from his twin daggers, he delivered the enemy with precise and powerful blows, his movements fluid and calculated.
Verdadero, with his black hair and green eyes, was no less impressive. He moved with an almost feline grace, his sword a blur as he weaved through the enemy ranks with deadly precision.
Kämpfen's warm voice rang out, a tone of relief clear in his words. "Captain! Thank heavens, you're alright!"
Verdadero's words echoed Kämpfen's sentiment, his own voice filled with profound reassurance. "Captain... We never gave up hope."
Their faces, streaked with dirt and flecked with blood, still shined with determination.
Both Kämpfen and Verdadero looked towards Seele with unwavering trust and certainty, waiting for her command.
Seele's expression softened as she looked at Kämpfen and Verdadero. The sight of them brought a mixture of relief and gratitude.
"You two..." she began, her voice gentle but firm. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for holding the line and keeping everyone safe."
Kämpfen and Verdadero exchanged knowing glances, then nodded in silent acknowledgment. Their trust in their captain was unflinching, and their loyalty unwavering.
...
Leben stepped into the hallway outside the interrogation room, his gaze already scanning his surroundings.
He adjusted the fit of the clothes he had taken from Narbe, a smug expression on his face.
As he walked down the corridor, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
The enemy's base was vulnerable and at chaos, and he can take this chance to escape the grasp of the E.D.M.
With each step, Leben was getting closer to the exit, his feet almost gliding across the corridor's hard floor.
Despite the din of battle and screams that echoed through the building, his footsteps remained steady. He paid it no heed, his unwavering focus locked on the single goal - getting out of the enemy's base.
Yet, with every step, the air around him seemed to grow heavier, as if it was charged with a dark, ominous energy.
As he walked, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes were following his every move.
But he kept moving, almost as if he was being guided by some malevolent force. In that moment, he felt like nothing could stop his escape, not even the battle going on outside.
Each step felt lighter, almost as if he was floating closer to the exit, his movements smooth and silent.
...
His mind wandered back to Seele's words, the word "Sinner" rang in his ears like a death bell.
"No," he thought firmly, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling. "I'm a saint, not a Sinner."
With a resolute expression, he steeled his determination, pushing aside any doubts that tried to creep into his mind. He was a saint, and he wouldn't let anyone convince him otherwise.
As he pushed these nagging thoughts to the back of his mind, a sliver of pride surfaced, a memory of his former glory.
He had once been The Saint of Mysticism, renowned for his mastery over mysticism in Heaven.
"She's just a lowly human," he thought arrogantly. "What does she know about what it is to be a Saint?"
Saints. They are mortals granted Virtue by the Archangel of Virtues themselves. Each Virtue has their own unique powers and abilities. Each Virtue derived from their faith to God and their virtuous nature and acts, representing the lightness of the human heart.
In stark contrast, The Seven Deadly Sins were twisted mirror images of the Saints. Their Sin's are granted by the Seven Lords of Hell. Each Sin derived their abilities from their sinful nature, representing the very darkness of the human heart.
He once was The Angel of Mysticism, an exalted being who had the Virtue of Diligence.
He shared his mystic knowledge to humanity, teaching them how to foresee the future, helping humanity by teaching them how to brew and make spells and potions.
Yet, despite this, he harbored a deep loathing for humanity, a hate that burned as bright as his love for mysticism.
What could have caused him to despise humanity so? A secret grudge, a bitter betrayal, or something else entirely?
...
He continued walking, forcing himself to disregard the thoughts that tried to intrude upon his mind.
The screams and shaking of the battle outside were still present, yet he pushed them to the background, his gaze fixed on the exit that was now in sight.
Each step he took felt more confident, the air around him almost crackling with anticipation.
...
SLICK! SLASH!
Kämpfen fought with a grace and skill few could match, his twin daggers flowing like liquid as he sliced through the waves of enemies.
SHLICK!
Verdadero moved with an almost feral quickness, his sword a blur as he cut through a colossal devil, saving two corp members who seemed unable to defend themselves any longer.
"Doing well, Verda!" Kämpfen said, with his usual warm voice, supporting his friend. "You might as well be a famous sword dancer!"
"Shut it, Kämpfen. You're a pain in the back, y'know that." Verdadero said with annoyance, he loves his friend, Kämpfen.
But even I can admit that he's kind of annoying. He's still cool though.
"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss, Verda!" Kämpfen retorted, his signature smirk firmly in place. "I'm just trying to bring some cheer into this bloody battlefield."
Verdadero rolled his eyes, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're always too cheerful, Kämpfen. Just focus on the fight. We're not here for a party."
Their friendly banter was cut by the sudden voice. It was their Captain's voice, Seele.
Seele's voice rang out, her words a rallying cry that cut through the chaos of battle.
"Everyone! Hold your ground! Fight with all the courage in your hearts! We are the Division C of the E.D.M! We have faced greater hardships than this! Stand firm! Stand strong! Our Lord is with us!"
Her words seemed to ignite a fire within the hearts of her comrades, infusing them with a new energy, a renewed zeal to fight back against the enemy.
Despite their wounds, despite the exhaustion and pain, the soldiers stood strong, their spirits undaunted.
Each one of them was wounded, but their determination remained undimmed. This was the essence of a soldier, enduring pain and hardship in defense of what they believed in without ever faltering.