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The skies above Earth darkened as an unnatural stillness blanketed the land. The air grew heavy, charged with an immense energy, and a strange hush fell over everything, as though the world itself paused to witness the moment. From the heavens, the first signs appeared—pillars of golden light cascading down in breathtaking brilliance, splitting through the oppressive clouds like spears of the divine.
And then, they came.
The **twenty angels** descended from the light, their presence radiant and majestic, each one shining like a sun in its prime. Their forms glided downward in perfect harmony, their **four wings** spread wide, feathers shimmering like molten starlight. The leader among them, the five-winged angel, shone brighter than the rest—an otherworldly beacon of unmatched power. His fifth wing, an anomaly to even the strongest of divine warriors, flared behind him like a living flame, and the sigils on his celestial armor pulsed faintly as if alive. Each angel held weapons forged in the heart of the heavens—blades of light, spears crackling with pure energy, and shields etched with divine runes.
Their arrival was as silent as it was overwhelming. The very ground beneath them trembled, cracks spiderwebbing across the earth as their presence rippled outward like a tidal wave. Their eyes, glowing with celestial fire, scanned the realm below, their collective gaze sharp and unyielding, focused on their task.
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The **demons** of the mortal realm felt it before they saw it—a terrible, suffocating wave of light that scorched their very essence. Screeches of agony and fear erupted from the monsters that had crawled through Hell’s breach, their twisted forms recoiling from the divine presence now bearing down upon them.
Zarman, a hulking demon with jagged horns curling atop his head and obsidian skin marred with glowing cracks, snarled as the light fell across the ruined battlefield. His monstrous eyes narrowed, his fanged mouth twisting in a mix of fear and hatred. **This power… this was not supposed to come.**
“The angels,” Zarman spat, his voice a guttural snarl that echoed over the groans of lesser demons writhing in pain. “They dare interfere?!”
The golden light intensified as the angels touched the ground, their collective presence obliterating entire hordes of lesser demons with their sheer radiance. Zarman shielded his eyes as the **five-winged angel** stepped forward, his form bathed in celestial brilliance, his every movement sending waves of pressure across the battlefield.
“The Morning Star has awakened them,” Zarman muttered to himself, his voice trembling. **Fear** curled in his chest like a parasite, an emotion he had not known in centuries. **This is not a battle we can win…**
The demons began to scatter. The horde that once swarmed the portal like a festering wound now faltered, their war cries turning to shrieks of terror. Smoke and shadow erupted in every direction as demons fled the golden light. But the angels moved with purpose.
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The leader of the angels stepped forward, his voice ringing out with clarity that carried across the battlefield, a sound both beautiful and terrible.
“**You who crawl from the depths of corruption, return to the void from whence you came. Your time here is over.**”
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he drove the tip of his radiant spear into the earth. A wave of light pulsed outward, turning demonic bodies to ash as it spread. Around him, the other angels sprang into motion, their weapons cleaving through the horde with effortless precision. Swords of light cut through demons as though they were made of smoke, and spears impaled the monsters, pinning them to the earth where they erupted into dark fire.
A lone demon, smaller than Zarman, shrieked in terror as it tried to flee, only for a golden arrow to strike it mid-leap, its body vanishing into a burst of ash. Zarman watched it happen, his monstrous heart thundering in his chest. He snarled, panic twisting his features.
“Fall back!” he roared to any demon that could still hear him. “Fall back, you fools! Do not challenge them!”
The demons, already consumed by terror, needed no further urging. They ran in all directions, like rats abandoning a sinking ship. But Zarman himself turned his eyes to the portal—the jagged tear in reality still belching forth smoke and shadows. If the angels sealed it, their foothold in this realm would be lost forever.
He hesitated only for a moment. Then, with a guttural growl, Zarman turned and bolted toward the far edge of the battlefield. His massive claws dug into the earth, his form vanishing into smoke as he fled. **Cowardice or survival, it mattered not.**
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As the demons scattered, the angels turned their full attention to the **portal**. The jagged rift pulsed ominously, the edges dripping with dark energy, a wound in the fabric of the world. Shadows clawed outward from it, the howls of trapped souls and demons echoing in its depths. The angels formed a circle around it, their weapons held high as the air itself seemed to vibrate with the force of their power.
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The leader of the angels stepped forward, his glowing eyes fixed on the rift. His fifth wing spread wide, casting a blinding light across the ruined landscape. He raised his hand, and a brilliant **sigil** formed in the air—a spinning wheel of celestial glyphs, glowing with enough power to split the sky.
“By the authority of Heaven, we sever this gateway,” he intoned, his voice reverberating like the toll of a thousand bells. “Let the corruption of Hell be cast back into the void.”
The other angels raised their weapons in unison, their collective voices joining his in a resounding chant that shook the earth. Golden light erupted from their blades and spears, streaming upward like rivers of molten energy before converging into the sigil. The portal trembled, its dark edges vibrating violently as the light pressed inward, smothering the shadows.
The portal howled—a deep, unnatural sound that sent chills through the battlefield. Black tendrils lashed out wildly, but they turned to smoke the moment they touched the light. The angels pressed on, their chant growing louder, their power rippling like a storm through the air.
From somewhere within the portal, a deep, guttural **scream** echoed out—the sound of something ancient and furious, something that knew it was being banished.
“It resists,” murmured one of the angels, his brow furrowed, his voice strained as he channeled more power.
The leader did not falter. “Then we shall crush its will.”
He thrust his spear forward, the weapon glowing brighter than the sun. The sigil erupted in a blinding explosion of light, a wave of energy so immense that it flattened the ground and split the sky itself. The portal, unable to withstand the force, collapsed inward with a final, deafening shriek—a black hole devouring itself until there was nothing left but silence.
---
When the light finally faded, the angels stood tall, their wings slowly lowering. The battlefield was still and empty, save for the smoking remains of where the portal once stood. The leader of the angels turned to his kin, his glowing eyes solemn.
“It is done.”
The other angels nodded in unison, their weapons vanishing into streams of light.
Far across the horizon, where Zarman and others had fled, the shadows recoiled deeper into the earth, though their retreat held a promise: **This was far from over.**
The angels remained silent, their brilliant forms bathed in the soft glow of the sun rising over the broken land. For now, Earth was safe, but the heavens knew this was only the beginning. The storm had been held at bay—but the true war was yet to come.
Hell was a cacophony of roars, screeches, and seismic tremors. The air, already thick with ash and brimstone, seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on the countless demons that writhed and swarmed in confusion. Across the circles of Hell, the realization hit like a shockwave—the portal to the mortal realm was sealed.
"No! This cannot be!" a winged demon snarled, its talons raking against the cavern's jagged walls. Around it, lesser demons thrashed in panic, their once-bold ambitions of spilling into the human world instantly crushed.
From the fiery depths of the fifth circle, a demon lord slammed his massive claw into the ground, sending molten cracks sprawling across the floor. "Who dared to close it? Was it the wretched angels?!" His voice boomed, but even his rage carried an undercurrent of uncertainty. Hell's long-held foothold in the mortal plane had been ripped away, leaving only the bitterness of failure.
In the seventh circle, Xeruo's molten armor glimmered faintly under the dim red light as he stalked forward, his strides measured yet filled with seething purpose. Around him, the other rulers and their demonic followers stirred restlessly, their frustration palpable. The sealing of the portal wasn’t just a setback—it was an insult. A display of Heaven’s audacity to interfere with their dominion.
Xeruo paused, his claws flexing as he considered the implications. “The angels have made their move,” he growled, his voice low and venomous. “But the question is... why now? Who dares give them such authority?”
Elsewhere, the news rippled like wildfire. The wailing souls in the third circle screamed louder, their agony heightened by the panic of demons forced back into the bowels of Hell. In the eighth circle, where treachery and deception thrived, whispers filled the air. Some demons speculated on betrayal—had one of the rulers conspired with Heaven? Others whispered of Lucifer, the Morning Star, and what his silence could mean.
A hulking demon in the sixth circle lashed out in fury, obliterating an obsidian pillar with a swing of its massive axe. “This reeks of Yama’s interference!” it roared, flames licking at its twisted horns. “If the angels sealed the portal, they did not act alone.”
Back in the seventh circle, Xeruo's glowing eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze toward the distant caverns that led deeper into Hell. He could feel the weight of suspicion settling over the others—his rivals, the other rulers of Hell. They would see this as a failure, a weakness that might be exploited. But Xeruo’s mind raced beyond petty scheming. He knew there was a deeper force at play.
“This is no coincidence,” Xeruo muttered to himself, his molten claws leaving deep gouges in the scorched stone as he walked. “Yama… that meddling warden. And the angels wouldn’t act without provocation. Something—someone—has awakened the heavens to this war.”
His molten armor hissed as he paused at the edge of a massive chasm, its depths glowing faintly with infernal light. Around him, the air pulsed with Hell’s collective fury, a seething mass of frustration and anger boiling over in the wake of the portal’s closure. The once-constant flow of corruption into the mortal realm was severed, and every demon felt the sting of that loss.
“We will reclaim what is ours,” Xeruo declared, his voice cutting through the surrounding chaos. “But first, we must learn the truth of this treachery. Prepare yourselves, for Hell will not cower in the face of Heaven’s meddling.”
The ground quaked as Xeruo’s words spread like fire, a rallying cry to the rulers and demons alike. The silence from Lucifer’s domain loomed over them all, but for now, the fires of Hell burned brighter, its denizens readying themselves for the coming storm.
