Back in the other training room, Michael floored Leviel in a blur of motion. She hit the ground, wide-eyed.

  What—? Was that a flip? All I did was block a jab, and now I’m on the floor…

  “Is this how you stop being a failure?” Michael’s voice was sharp, cold. “Is this all you’ve got?”

  “No, Master!” she shouted.

  “Then get up. Show me.”

  Leviel sprang to her feet. Michael pressed her immediately, throwing deliberate, measured strikes—not to win, but to force her to react. He wasn’t letting her hide behind blocks.

  Each exchange dragged her closer to something dangerous. Unlike her brother Asmodiel, who needed polish and timing, Leviel’s soul twisted under pressure. Frustration sharpened her movements, rage correcting mistakes instinct couldn’t.

  Her breath steadied, her eyes narrowed, and her movements were sharper—heavier. Her unnatural growth surprised even Michael.

  He snapped a jab. Leviel slipped past, whipping a brutal overhand right.

  Too quick. He ducked under her punch and fired an uppercut—only for Leviel to catch it, wrench his arm off-line, and hurl him over her hip. Michael hit the floor with a grunt.

  His brows jerked upwards. Impossible.

  He rolled away from her follow-up punch and barely avoided an axe kick that shattered the floor.

  Michael’s gaze hardened. Her form sharpens with every breath. If I let this drag on…

  Leviel pulled him in mid-thought. His right cross came; her elbow met his nose. Pain flared. She yanked him off balance and swept his legs out from under him.

  He shifted back just in time, placing his weight on his back foot while lifting his lead leg to dodge the sweep. She caught his foot, pulled him forward, then drove a kick into his base, tripping him.

  The world spun as she swung Michael around before slamming him into the ground, cracking it.

  Leviel lunged to finish him, but Michael slipped free, countering. She caught his kick and hurled him skyward. Michael twisted in midair, landing lightly, only to meet a side kick. He caught her leg and flung her across the room, slamming her into the wall.

  Leviel tried to lunge again, then collapsed, clutching her leg.

  What…? I can’t feel it…

  Michael exhaled, dropping to the floor in a cross-legged position. “Enough. The fight’s over. Let’s review.”

  Meanwhile, Gabriel and Asmodiel’s fight continued.

  His mangled hand throbbed from the last Divine Flash. One more mistake would end him.

  Jophiel was right. He can call it on command. This was even worse than the last. If he tags my face again, I’m finished.

  Across from him, Asmodiel smirked. Gabriel’s hesitation was delicious.

  He’s stopped meeting me head-on, Asmodiel grinned. Afraid of another Divine Flash? Perfect.

  They circled in silence before Asmodiel lunged. Gabriel’s eyes sharpened. Using Chronicles: Divine Counter, he batted strikes aside, retreating step by step.

  Why stop using Divine Flash? Suspicion burned. He wants me to be reckless, but I won’t bite.

  Asmodiel poured on pressure, but Gabriel turned each blow, shifting his stance until Asmodiel’s rhythm faltered. Finally, he deflected Asmodiel’s punch, forcing him to overextend his cross.

  Gabriel snapped a counterpunch, only to find his fist slapped away. Asmodiel’s palm struck his own fist, redirecting his left hand with eerie precision.

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  “What—?” Gabriel staggered back, but Asmodiel seized his arm, dragging him forward with brutal force. His knee surged toward Gabriel’s spine, soul twisting, energy building.

  He’s setting up another Divine Flash—!

  In desperation, Gabriel hooked Asmodiel’s hair, wrenched upward, and hurled him into the ceiling.

  Asmodiel’s jaw dropped. “Huh—?!”

  Divine Flashes have numerous advantages, but only if they land. The penalty for missing one was severe, and Asmodiel was about to pay the price.

  The crash echoed as his knee detonated in a bloody explosion. Circuits burned out, blood streaming from his eyes and mouth.

  Gabriel advanced, lightning wreathing his fist, charging a Revelations: Divine Ender.

  The whitish-gold arc radiating from his right hand intensified as he closed the distance. Just as Gabriel was about to enter attacking range, Asmodiel woke up, releasing the flames from his burnt-out circuits.

  Gabriel shielded himself with Divine Absorption, drawing the flames into his arms and transmuting them into mana. But Asmodiel veered right, baiting him to switch attacks.

  I’m not going to let you escape. Gabriel transferred the energy from his right hand to his left leg and lunged forward, aiming a kick at Asmodiel’s midsection.

  Gabriel saw Asmodiel grin as he came in. He leaned back to avoid whatever hit might come, keeping the kick going—until his leg detonated and his circuits faltered.

  His vision blurred. What just happened?

  Asmodiel’s teeth bared in savage amusement; his soul knitted itself back together midair. His fist drew back, radiating lethal intent. Gabriel’s soul froze. He knew if Asmodiel landed this, the fight would be over.

  With raw will, Gabriel forced his soul to move. Aura bled from his eyes. For the first time, he entered Flow.

  He narrowly leaned back while guarding his chest with a desperate weave of techniques:

  Chronicle x Deuteronomy: Perfect Guard.

  Asmodiel’s fist flashed gold on impact, and the force blasted Gabriel into the ground, cratering the floor. His arms shattered. His chest burned.

  Asmodiel’s aura darkened.

  His hands clasped, and he muttered. “Divine Territory.”

  His aura radiated outwards, and light emanated from his palm

  The moment Gabriel hit the floor, he began chanting to take the burden off his circuits to cast an Ultimate Domain, anticipating another Divine Territory, but he wasn’t fast enough. The instant-cast stunned him. A crushing blow caved his chest, and another cracked his skull. Darkness swallowed him.

  Asmodiel dropped, panting, his hands trembling, ears ringing. “That was close… If my future self hadn’t warned me, I would have…” He smirked at Gabriel’s limp form. “Compared to Uriel, you’re a monster.”

  When Gabriel stirred again, he ignored Asmodiel and stalked out, face twisted with fury.

  “Tch.” Asmodiel exhaled. “I might have to do this again tomorrow. I doubt he would accept a loss from a lowly angel.”

  Gabriel walked to the only person who could explain what just happened to him—Samael. Throughout his walk to the first layer, he was dumbfounded by the skills of Asmodiel, comparing his fighting style to Michael’s.

  He was stunned and humiliated. It was inconceivable for an archangel to lose to a far weaker archangel, let alone an angel. Gabriel’s ego was unable to take such a hit.

  Elsewhere, Michael sat with Leviel.

  “First, your talent, what is it?”

  Leviel hesitated.

  “To forge your style, I need to know. It will make you deadly.”

  “…I can slow particles,” she admitted at last.

  Michael’s lips curved faintly. “Impressive. But not your sharpest edge.”

  “Hmm, my brother once told me, the angrier I get, the deadlier I become.”

  “He’s right. But there’s a flaw. Your base stats are weak. If someone ends the fight quickly, your rage means nothing.”

  “I see, so I must improve without my talent, so I can be more impressive when I use it.”

  “Exactly. Next time, I’ll drill you until you can stand against your brother.”

  Leviel bowed. “Thank you, Master.”

  Michael waved it off. “Don’t thank me. This is my duty.”

  She reached the door but lingered, glancing over her shoulder.

  “How did you cripple my leg?”

  Michael chuckled. “I hit your pressure point. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

  As she left, she clenched her fist. Brother… Lord Michael lit a fire in me. I’ll surpass you.

  Bloodied and furious, Gabriel reached Samael’s cell.

  Samael’s grin widened. “Ooooh, Gabriel. You look awful. Which of my students beat you?”

  Jackiel laughed until Gabriel snapped a barrier over them, silencing the room.

  “Oh man, not again.” Jackiel bowed his head, “I should really keep my mouth shut.”

  Inside, Gabriel asked. “How did you know it was a student of yours?”

  “You’ve never met me when someone on your level beat you, the only time you’ve met me for answers is when I—”

  “Enough.” Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t come here to recall the past.”

  Samael smirked, putting his hands up. “My bad, I see, it’s still a touchy subject. So...” He leaned forward. “Who was it?”

  Gabriel reluctantly spat the name.

  Samael erupted in laughter, tears streaming.

  “I didn’t come here to be mocked,” Gabriel growled.

  Samael stops laughing and cleans the tears from his eyes.

  “So why did you come then?”

  “I want to know how I lost.”

  Samael’s smirk vanished. His eyes turned cold. “Why should I tell you? When Michael beat me bloody, you stood and watched. Give me one reason I should lift a finger for you.”

  “My hands were tied; I couldn’t—”

  “Pathetic excuses.” Samael turned his back. “Get out.”

  Gabriel seized his shirt. “Wait, please tell me!”

  Samael ignored him.

  “Damn it!” Gabriel roared, tearing down the barrier and storming off.

  Jackiel pleaded Gabriel’s case. “Please. Help him—even if it’s for a price. Isn’t there anything you want him to do for you?”

  Samael contemplated it for a while, then, after a long pause, he nodded.

  “Fine. I do need something from him.”