*Armageddon Era*
The sky was dark, veiled by an unending purple rain that drenched everything in its path. Each drop seemed to carry the weight of curses, and upon touching the ground, it seeped in, devouring the earth and turning the vegetation black and lifeless. Once-majestic buildings now lay in ashes and ruins, victims of this toxic rain. The river had become a reddish liquid vein, carrying lifeless bodies.
The inhabitants, unable to shelter or flee, had perished, their bodies lying in the red mud. Children, elders, warriors—none had been spared by this devastation. The air was heavy, almost unbreathable, saturated with the metallic, nauseating scent of blood. A putrid stench clung to the nostrils, a mix of iron, rotting flesh, and tainted earth. The ambient temperature contrasted strangely with this sanguine tide: the air was icy, as if death itself had decided to cool this world in agony.
...
As far as the eye could see, a sea of blood stretched, gently rippling beneath the cold wind. The horizon was an intense crimson, an infernal red that seemed to devour the daylight. Above this scene of carnage, a celestial army stood in formation: billions of angels with their wings majestically spread, each feather immaculately white, forming a tapestry of light. But the purity of these beings contrasted with the horror surrounding them. Even the most powerful among them seemed hesitant in the face of the grotesque scene below.
At the head of this army stood Uriel, the archangel of judgment, his posture imposing. Beside him were Tzakiel and Morael. Raphael stood slightly back, his long blue hair flowing in the breeze. Ezekiel, ever calm and thoughtful, remained vigilant, while Celest scanned the horizon with silent gravity.
Beside Uriel stood Luciel MorningStar, heiress to the Elysian throne, a resplendent beauty. Her long golden hair shimmered under the dim light of this ravaged world, gracefully falling over her shoulders and harmonizing with the light, silver armor she wore. Every curve of her face was divine perfection, but it was the golden flame symbol on her forehead and the subtle beauty mark on her left cheek that made her unique, adding to her charm.
Her golden eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, fixed on the gigantic red orb floating in the distance. A malevolent aura emanated from this organic egg, its black veins pulsing slowly like a beating heart, projecting an energy so foul it could drive one mad.
Luciel gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, ready to draw at any moment. The man inside was her enemy, the greatest murderer this world had known, and above all... her lover.
The atmosphere was heavy with tension, each angel silent, their breath held in the face of the abomination before them. The only sound was the cold wind blowing over the sea of blood below.
The silence, heavy and oppressive, enveloped the scene as the soldiers watched, motionless and wary. Uriel gestured for three soldiers to approach the orb.
"Uriel, it’s pointless to send them. Better to wait," declared Luciel, her calm tone contrasting with her cousin’s order.
"Wait? No one knows what’s going to come out of that thing, Luciel," he retorted, his voice tense. He knew the energy emanating from this organic entity was so corrupt it was eroding even the most resilient minds, but he was even more afraid of what might emerge from that morbid shell.
Raphael, observing the scene with a weary eye, sighed: "If only you’d properly finished the job."
The reproach hit its mark. Uriel clenched his fists, but before he could respond, Tzakiel shook his head with disdain: "You should’ve foreseen that Alderbaran would intervene. Lucky it’s not you as the heir. Zero foresight."
Uriel remained silent, jaw tight. Ezekiel, amused by his comrades’ strained expressions, couldn’t help but chuckle softly.
"Guys, focus on the objective," Luciel intervened.
As the three soldiers cautiously approached the orb, their flight slowed, the air growing heavier. Suddenly, they dropped their weapons and began to scream, their eyes bloodshot, as if an indescribable terror had seized them. Viscous, bloody hands surged from the sea of blood, seeking to engulf them.
Luciel moved so swiftly she seemed to teleport. A golden flame erupted around her, instantly disintegrating the bloody hands in a burst of radiant light. She appeared beside the two soldiers, grabbing them by their collars, then hurling them backward to safety.
But the third soldier, too close to the orb, was less fortunate. Within seconds, he was engulfed by the bloody hands, disappearing beneath the surface, leaving only bubbles to burst on the sea’s surface.
Luciel held the two survivors, still shaken, their blood-soaked clothes clinging to them, but their reddened eyes betrayed their inner destruction. She turned an accusing gaze toward Uriel.
"You’ve caused the death of a valuable soldier before the battle even begins. Proud of yourself, Uriel?"
"Back off, Luciel."
Ezekiel stepped forward calmly, his gaze resting on the soldiers with reddened eyes, the Lotus symbol on his forehead glowing faintly. "Princess," he began gravely, "their souls have been destroyed. They’re nothing but empty shells now."
The truth in his words silenced the reproaches. Ezekiel, embodying the Law of Anima, was one of the most adept at dealing with souls and could analyze them with a single glance. If even he deemed these soldiers irredeemable, then the evil inhabiting that sphere was beyond anything they had faced before.
Luciel sighed, knowing even her golden flame couldn’t restore reason to these soldiers. Morael, observing the scene with implacable coldness, simply grabbed his lance and, without a trace of emotion, impaled the two soldiers before casting them into the red sea below.
"Morael, you should show some compassion. They were valiant soldiers..." Luciel began.
*Crack.*
Everyone turned toward the egg. New cracks appeared, snaking along its organic surface, and with each crack, the air seemed to tighten further.
*Crack.*
The black veins covering the shell pulsed faster and faster, as if the egg were beating to the rhythm of a monstrous heart. The malevolent energy thickened, crushing everything around it. The faces of the angels, even the most powerful among them, froze in apprehension.
"Prepare!" Celest shouted, drawing her heavy sword.
The cracks widened, releasing bursts of crimson energy. The rain fell harder. Finally, in a deafening explosion, the egg shattered. A wave of malevolent energy flooded the area, spewing a nauseating reddish vapor across the battlefield.
Slowly, two pale, slender hands with long, twisted claws emerged from the debris. The creature placed its hand on the edge of the broken egg, its body gradually emerging in an atmosphere saturated with malice, its silhouette still indistinct.
"All this crowd, am I so popular~?"