The Devil never failed to plan thoroughly. His wrath was sharp. His strategies, sharper. And after centuries of reigning over fire and fear, he had become a master of timing.
In the scorched throne room of Hell, the air pulsed with a heat that could strip flesh from bone. Shadows danced against obsidian walls, and every breath drawn there tasted of ash and torment.
On his throne, carved from bones of fallen angels and burning with crimson flames, the Devil sat tall and still. His eyes, glowing pits of hatred, narrowed with grim satisfaction as a figure knelt before him—cloaked in black mist, surrounded by an aura of dread.
"Rhaziel," the Devil said, voice echoing like thunder across the infernal chamber.
The demon looked up, his silver eyes void of any trace of mercy. He was the Devil's right hand—an enforcer, a collector of damned souls, feared across realms for his cruelty. Tall, skeletal yet regal, Rhaziel wore a robe that seemed to consume light, stitched with the names of those he had personally dragged into Hell.
"Your task is simple," the Devil continued. "Jaceon is no longer a threat. He rots in the molten pits, his screams swallowed by lava. The path is open."
Rhaziel said nothing, but nodded once.
"Bring me Levi's soul. He's vulnerable now. Fractured. Alone."
The Devil's lips curled into a wicked smile. "He'll be no challenge for you."
Without a word, Rhaziel vanished in a cloud of smoke.
---
Above the pit, in the mortal world, the day had begun like any other.
Levi stood by the window of his apartment, arms wrapped tightly around himself. The morning light trickled in, but it felt dimmer than usual. Weaker. As though the sun had forgotten how to shine.
Monica sat in the far corner, leafing through a grimoire with trembling fingers. Her eyes darted to Levi now and then, watching the way his shoulders slumped, how his eyes lingered too long on nothing at all.
Since Jaceon was taken, things had changed.
Levi barely slept. Barely ate. There was a hollowness in him now, an echo of someone who had carried the weight of heaven and hell and was slowly breaking under it.
He was strong, yes—but not invincible.
And both of them knew it.
"Levi," Monica said softly. "You need to rest."
"I can't," he whispered. "Not when I know what's coming."
A silence fell between them.
And then the air changed.
At first, it was just a breeze—a cold, unnatural gust that snuffed out the candles scattered around the room. Then, the light dimmed, as though something had reached across the sky and pulled a curtain over the sun.
Monica looked up, eyes wide.
"Do you feel that?"
Levi nodded slowly.
Suddenly, the pressure in the room intensified. The walls groaned. The very air seemed to weigh more. Monica clutched the dagger hidden beneath her book and rose to her feet.
Then—he arrived.
The door didn't open. It simply vanished. Replaced by a yawning void from which Rhaziel stepped, tall and unhurried, every inch of his form exuding death.
Monica stumbled back instinctively.
Levi froze.
So this was it.
The Devil's right hand had come to claim him.
Rhaziel's gaze swept the room, then landed on Levi. "So… this is the soul he wants so dearly."
His voice was calm. Smooth. But beneath it was venom, like honey laced with blades.
Levi didn't speak. His mouth had gone dry. His knees threatened to buckle.
Jaceon wasn't here.
He was truly alone.
Rhaziel took a step forward. "You're not even resisting. I expected more of a fight."
Monica stepped between them, holding up her dagger, though it shook in her hand. "You'll have to go through me first."
Rhaziel's smile was slow and cruel. With a wave of his hand, the room erupted in violent energy. The windows shattered. Walls cracked. Monica was thrown backward into a shelf.
Levi screamed her name and rushed to her side, but Rhaziel advanced.
"This soul is marked," the demon said. "And Hell does not wait."
Rhaziel raised a clawed hand, shadow gathering into a blade of darkness.
Levi backed away, shielding Monica with his body, heart racing. He tried to speak, to pray, to scream—but the words wouldn't come.
And just as the blade fell—
The ceiling exploded with radiant light.
Time stopped.
The shadows recoiled. Rhaziel's hand froze mid-air as something ancient and divine descended.
She didn't walk.
She floated, her feet never touching the floor, her presence bending the very fabric of the room. Her robes glimmered like woven stardust, and her face was hidden behind a veil of ethereal flame. The air thrummed with music and thunder, light and storm.
The deity.
Monica gasped, and even Rhaziel stumbled back, hissing like a beast struck with fire.
"No," Rhaziel spat, shielding his face. "You have no right—this is a soul of the fallen!"
The deity extended a hand, and the room was filled with a resonance that shook every wall but brought peace to Levi's heart.
"You thought you were alone," she said, voice like a thousand winds speaking in harmony. "But the divine do not abandon their chosen."
She turned her gaze to Rhaziel.
"You crossed a boundary you should not have."
Rhaziel screamed as her light reached him, tearing at his cloak, burning his skin. "He's already tainted! I have claim!"
"You have nothing," the deity said sharply.
She raised her hand again, and this time, the light became a storm. Rhaziel was flung back, his screams echoing like thunder as his body was engulfed in flame. With one final, furious cry, he vanished into a vortex of smoke, sucked back to the depths from whence he came.
Silence returned.
Levi collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.
Monica, wide-eyed and shaking, crawled to him.
The deity remained.
"You are stronger than you know," she said gently. "But even strength needs sanctuary."
Levi looked up, eyes full of tears. "Why… why now?"
"Because now was when you needed me most."
And just like that—she was gone.
But the warmth she left remained, etched into every corner of the broken room.
Levi didn't move for a long time.
He just breathed. Slowly. Gratefully.
Monica finally whispered, "She saved you."
Levi nodded. "Maybe. Or maybe… she reminded me I was worth saving."
Outside, the sun began to shine again.
But inside, Levi knew—this wasn't the end.
The Devil had lost his right hand.
And next, he would come himself.
But next time, will the deity save him again?.
Or will fate give him back what has been taken from him.