章節 24: Chapter 24
Dead silence.
The kind that one would find only when out alone in the woods; the lingering sound of thunder still present in the clouds above illuminating the area in sudden flashes of intermittent bolts of lightning.
The Legions of the Underworld, lead only by the Demons of the Seventy-Two Pillars, elites capable of standing up to Heaven's armies before the fall of the Angels.
In a time where the Heavens were united, and the sole enemy was the underworld, they were the foundations of all Devils. The Guardians of purgatory. The true Kings and Queens of hell, later hailed within the Goetia as the Lesser Keys of Solomon.
"The banner that billows in the deepest inferno," Serafall's voice carried on in solemnity. "May it rise and bring forth a mighty sunder, releasing the flames of Gehenna that burns with our will. For it shall burn for an eternity."
A hand was raised, and with it, spears, swords, and flashes of magical light abounded.
"Swords that could cut apart mountains, armours that refused to shatter, and magic that could threaten the heavens!"
The tenacity of the army of the underworld recorded even in human script. The legions that composed a never-ending tide of the underworld's elite.
"Legends? Myth? History? Today it stands before you!"
Serafall took a breath, her gaze staring at the enemies before her.
They were shaken, it was clear from the way their faces paled and how their magic circles shattered mid-incantation. They were disturbed, unable to process the final steps required to manifest their magic.
The silence continued, and in that silence, Serafall keenly took notice of Sirzechs and the others.
They had been in the midst of fighting against the Old Satan Faction before her arrival, and now they just stood their dumbly, surrounded with other enemy devils who were too shocked to even take advantage of them.
Sirzechs mouth was opened wide, and his eyes seemed to be constantly trying to press her for answers in his incredulousness. It just didn't make sense to him; the image of the Serafall in his mind refusing to overlap with the one presently before him and wreathed in a regal crimson armour.
W-What exactly did she end up doing in the past few weeks?
A similar thought flashed across Grayfia's and Ajuka's minds, but unlike Sirzechs, the two were never very expressive. It was only the widening of their eyes and the break in their composure that signalled their astonishment.
Out of Sirzechs and the others however, Falbium was the only one whose mind was thinking properly, his eyes darting across the battlefield and observing. Lazy as Falbium may be, he was the only one to keep his composure as the lives of those before him relied on his instruction.
"Y-You lie!"
Falbium's eyes narrowed sharply at the shout of an Old Satan Faction member.
To be truthful, Falbium had to agree with the Old Satan Faction member. Whatever Serafall was planning it had to have had been a ruse. After all, not counting the sheer number of combatants that Serafall had brought, were her words truly authentic?
Eyes scanning over the weapons and armours before his sight, Falbium frowned as he couldn't distinguish them. More over, with the fluctuations of magical power suffusing the crimson armour's surface, it was impossible to determine the aura of the individual beneath. As such, he wasn't able to discern if they were weak or strong either. Based on history, each of the Legionaries were said to rival the strength of Lesser Demons; beings ranked lower than Demons but equivalent to the Underworld's Ultimate-Class Devils in modern standards. As such, for Serafall to gather so many of these 'elites,' it really was too much for Falbium to believe.
He was more inclined to speculate about alternatives.
Yet, it was because of this mentality that Falbium was left dumbfounded.
He swallowed as his mouth went dry, the sound, audible in the tension formed in the air; the frown that he had had over his face disappearing entirely as he felt a shortness of breath.
I-Impossible!
He blinked once then twice but didn't dare move his gaze away.
A charred husk plummeted to the ground, spasming with wisps of smoke floating into the air.
It was the devil who had spoken, the one to shout out against the proud flag billowing in the wind. The flag of the Seventy-Two Demons.
Imposing.
Unequaled.
"A lie?" A voice spoke out, clear yet callous.
There was a sort of dark undertone to it that spoke of an evil unable to be described. Chills travelled down Falbium's back, and the same could be said for many who were close enough to hear. It was only Serafall whose expression was different.
"Believe in what you will,"
Cold eyes stared outwards from an armoured visage, a sword fading away into the air and leaving behind threads of purple crackling arc light.
"The truth is found only in action. I alone will prove it to you."
A new sword appeared, two meters long, and it had a refinedness to it that reflected the elementary of its make. Just from looking at it, it was evident that no magical enhancement existed on it whatsoever. It was a simple blade, made of tempered steel and hammered away by precise strikes to reduce the blade's edge until it was paper thin. A formidable weapon against mortals, but considerably lacking when pitted against the foremost of the world's armaments.
Serafall's expression didn't change, but she was internally worried for Kuro's methods. She had seen this seemingly innate ability of his before. The power to create swords from nothing that were tinged with his unique energy. It was why she described this power as innate, for no one could replicate or reproduce the energies required.
More to the point, it was through observation that she was able to know that Kuro was capable of creating much stronger weapons, yet he had limited himself to something so mundane. Of course, she had a speculation for the reason why.
Her eyes subconsciously glanced to the back line that composed the majority of the Underworld's Legions and pursed her lips.
As intimidating as they appeared, she knew the truth about them, and because of this, their bravery was etched into her heart. But subsequently, his form grew ever larger.
He who would match their bravery with humility, tenacity, and self abandon. The hero whose back appeared ever broader. A Holy man if she could relate anything to his level of selflessness which was utterly unconceivable for a resident of the Underworld. Yet perhaps, the Underworld was in need of change, and Kuro would be able to achieve it.
Just looking at him now, she felt like she understood. A mundane blade against anything the enemy could throw at him? It was clear to her that he was purposely widening the contrast between the levels of strength. If Kuro alone possessed the ability to defeat several dozen devils mid, or higher, then what would that mean the individual strength of the others would be?
She would be a fool not to understand such an intention. Therefore, she wished to aid him.
She waved for Sirzechs and the others to stand with her, the Devils of the New Satan Faction quickly following and creating two distinct forces. In this way, not only could Kuro fight, but Sirzechs and the rest who'd been fighting for weeks could gain some reprieve.
None of the Old Satan Faction members stopped them, their gazes locked wearily on the Crimson Legion the New Satan Faction members were flocking to.
It was one thing if everything was all a hoax, but if it proved to be true, then carelessness would only lead to death. Perhaps more than anything, the arrogance and dominance of a single armoured individual standing at the front was more than enough of a temporary deterrent.
Tall and valiant.
The number of opponents in front of him didn't even seem to matter. In fact, it was the sheer indifference in his eyes that led one to believe the credibility of his words. That he could truly live up to them.
One devil from the Old Satan Faction moved forward, lips curved into a sneer of self-confidence and contempt. It was a man whose appearance was uptight and formal, not a blemish or wrinkle to be found in the clothing he wore such that it could be described as immaculate. On the chaotic battlefield, the clean vestments of such a man could not only reflect his status and pedigree, but capability as well.
With this devil's approach, both sides watched attentively as if they had come to a common consensus.
On one hand, the New Satan Faction was hopeful, but on the other, the Old Satan Faction had bated breaths. If one asked which army in the underworld was the most feared, it could only be the reputation of the Red Tide of the unending Legions. Those who fought alongside the original Seventy-Two Demons. Given the choice, the Old Satan Faction would never want to face them. Not only would the fear in doing so affect them psychologically, but to them, it was also morally wrong.
The Legions of the underworld held unquestionable allegiance to the original Lucifer, the head of all underworld nobilities. As such, the actions of the Legions were indirectly seen as the will of their master. Considering who their master was, then if the Legion in front of the Old Satan faction was authentic, then wouldn't they, the Old Satan Faction, be wrong? That they had somehow neglected to understand a secret message left behind by the will of their leader?
It wasn't something the Old Satan faction was willing to accept.
"Preposterous, to dare stain the reputation of the legendary Legions as merely a guise," the devil that walked forward scoffed, loosening the cuffs of his long-sleeved attire. "I am Vestalf of house Leraje, and I will put an end to this folly."
Saying that, Vestalf produced a magic circle and reached a hand within, pulling out an ornate sword crackling with demonic energy before tossing it at Shirou's feet.
"Even if its fake, I will not allow one to stain the prestige of the Underworld's greatest army. Shatter that blade in your hand. It's clear that the New Satan Faction has already used up all of its resources on the armour that you and those others wear."
Shirou glanced at the sword at his feet, and then to the sword in his hands. The personality emulated from within the sword vibrated from within him.
The will of a swordsman must never be tarnished.
He who began from humble birth, and he who had learned the art of a sword style never before seen.
It had been slighted.
The will of a man who could even be considered a Saviour using only the sword in his hands.
A thrum travelled from the blade in Shirou's grasp and a desire resonated from within his very being, and he understood, for he himself was a sword. A world of swords. He would oblige.
The sword at his feet left forgotten, the two-meter long blade angled with his hands to a near horizontal position with his legs spread open, and hips lowered.
A secret art, one created from the devotion of a single individual.
Ganryu.
Shirou himself was never skilled with any weapon, but that itself had it own advantage. His ability to imitate the techniques of others was unquestionable.
"I need no other sword, and if you think that this weapon was the result of inadequate funds," Shirou's voice lowered sharply. "Then shall I break open that belief with brute force?"
For a moment, Vestalf was certain that he had seen the image of another man superimposed with Shirou. A man with purple hair tied into a long pony tail and wearing a traditional Japanese umanori hakama and kimono, expression livid yet calm, almost mocking.
Vestalf's anger peaked for he had never been faced with such an expression of ridicule.
"Presumptuous faker! To even dare neglect the good-will of an opponent," Vestalf powered magic into his magic seal, generating a force that began to distort a segment of the air.
The Leraje family was a nobility of the Underworld known to cause great battles and disputes, yet always remaining dignified in doing so. They had completely taken after their progenitor and even went to the extent of specializing solely on ranged attacks. In which case, they were the undisputed best.
Most in the Leraje family were divided into attack classes, ranged magic users, and magic bowmen. In Vestalf's case, he was a leading figure in ranged magic.
Space distorted as a massive and writhing ball of pure magical power coalesced in front of Vestalf. A mix of rampant energies that were entirely volatile but suppressed by Vestalf's vast magical strength.
At the sight of it, many of the New Satan Faction members recoiled in fear, for it was these very shots of magical power that had been constantly pelting them during the course of the war. It was something that exploded on contact and caused immense damage. As a ranged fighter, Vestalf was responsible for a large portion of injured or dead on the New Satan faction's side. After all, protected by the other Old Satan Faction members, Vestalf could continuously fire which caused Falbium a great deal of head pain as he had to prevent Srizechs from charging in on numerous occasions. They were clearly baiting him.
With its re-emergence, different from the New Satan faction members, Shirou didn't even seem to react.
Instead, a gleam appeared over his blade.
"Perish," Vestalf said dismissively, sending his attack forward.
Upon launch, the vibration sent dirt and dust flying as it broke the sound barrier.
This was the deciding factor. Vestalf wasn't a Super-Class Devil, but he was still an Ultimate-Class Devil. Therefore, his strength could be used to judge this legionary from the Crimson Legion.
In the face of the incoming attack, a mundane blade sung its tune.
A gentle swish, comparable to the tearing of paper more pronounced with the explosion that followed soon after.
"Y-You cut it?" Vestalf spoke in bafflement, his mind suddenly filled with unease.
It had been too easy, a simple cut that diverted the explosive and concussive strength of his magic into two halves that dug crevices into the ground. Yet to do so with just a mundane blade? It could only mean that the opponent was striking precisely at the weakest points in his magic. But Vestalf refused to believe it, for the fear growing within him would overwhelm him.
He fired.
Again, and again.
Yet step by step, that ominous blade crept closer, the expressions of the Old Satan Faction growing ever grim.
Vestalf's nerves frayed as the blade's two-meter image shifted into a blur.
I-It wasn't even a magic blade, so how?!
The man swallowed, staggering backwards on his trembling feet. He felt it far better than any of his compatriots behind him even as he desperately backed away to gain ground to prevent a close confrontation. The precariousness, a lethal edge.
Shirou's hands moved on their own, following the path of the skill reflected by a heroic spirit who had no true name. A farmer boy, a child who had lived within a rural mountain village.
The petals that dance in the breeze.
Magical energy flooded his body, propelling him forward in a sudden burst of speed far faster than Vestalf who was caught off guard.
The finesse of a finite movement honed through numerous repetition.
The blade fell, cutting air and leaving behind only a trail of silver light that split into three before Vestalf's eyes.
It was the sword of a stranger.
The sword of an ordinary man who simply had too much time on his hands.
Tsubame Gaeshi.
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It had ended in an instant. The outcome had already been decided from the moment Shirou drew in close. To begin with, the Leraje family had no ability whatsoever in close combat. However, the Old Satan Faction still held hope that the mundane blade in Shirou's hands wouldn't have had been able to do anything.
Reality was cruel.
Mundane as it was, it had somehow cut apart Vestalf with an attack that struck from three directions simultaneously.
Vestalf fell, the magical reserves and destructive ability that qualified him as an Ultimate-Class Devil seemingly meaningless in the face of the single Legionary of the Crimson Legion.
It had been too effortless, something achieved in a single motion of taking up the blade and swinging it.
It was even completed with a mundane sword.
Swallowing, the members of the Old Satan Faction stared at the weapons of the others from the Crimson Legion and felt a stifling anxiety. When compared to the mundane blade in Shirou's hands, those weapons were as good as legendary treasures. Their craftsmanship was without question, and the power coming from them filled the air with potent magic.
In this moment of apprehension and shock, a voice began the recommencement of the battle of Kalinse plains.
"Attack!" Falbium ordered.
With the momentum of the Old Satan Faction suppressed and the blow to their state of mind, Falbium would be a fool not to utilize the opportunity.
Under his command the thousands of New Satan Faction members that had reorganized next to the Crimson Legion charged forth with vigour. Unlike the Old Satan Faction, the New Satan Faction was filled to the brim with confidence. It was only natural when they considered who their backing would be. Serafall's arrival was the turning point to this bitter battle.
They attacked in bursts, smashing into the Old Satan Faction's lines like waves on a rocky shore. Burst of magical energy lit up the air, and war cries quickly followed.
Amidst the chaos, Serafall and the others weren't lagging behind.
She charged in, a cold aura of ice freezing the area around her in layers of permafrost. At her back were Edith, Crawford, and Tyne who attacked with zeal. Of course, they had initially been against the idea of betraying their families and the Old Satan Faction, but that mentality changed the moment they had bathed in the glory of the Crimson Legion. The armours they wore, the prestige it granted them, it would be a lie to say that they hadn't been moved. Especially with Nirgul's constant praise towards Shirou.
They launched magical attacks without thought; Crawford and Tyne diving straight into a crowd of Old Satan members and physically tearing them apart with the enhancements of their armours and weapons. Edith on the other hand targeted the Old Satan Faction members that were trying to regain order. It was a euphoric sort of feeling, and their actions could be taken as battle credit.
Following behind Crawford and Tyne were the other High-Class devils Serafall had brought that were wearing the same armours. Of the individuals that composed the Legion that Serafall had brought, it was only the front line that had moved, the other low-class devils merely stood on guard. However, even if they weren't actively contributing, their presence alone caused much grief.
In war, it was standard for the frontline or the vanguard to be composed of a unit of some elite, but the majority as fodder. The fodder in most cases were foot soldiers sent to weaken the enemy to pave the path for the main army. The fact that Shirou, served as the vanguard gave the false impression that he was not the strongest, but the weakest foot solider of the Crimson Legion. This image was even more pronounced with the fact that Shirou was only equipped with a regular mortal sword. The low-class devils nervously standing at attention behind their armours on the other hand, were in stark contrast.
It was a phycological ploy that willingly prevented any attack towards the low-class devils who were merely nothing more than prop-ups. At the same time, they prevented the morale of the New Satan Faction from ever dropping as should Serafall and the others perish, the 'true' army of the Crimson Legion would take action.
"Falbium!" Sirzechs called eagerly.
Falbium nodded in response, and in that moment, a tower of destructive energy surrounded Sirzechs before he barrelled straight into the densest area on the Old Satan Faction's side.
It was finally time for Sirzechs to unleash his power. For too long Ajuka, Falbium, and Grayfia had been advising him of an enemy trap, but with the disorganization on the Old Satan Faction's side caused by Serafall's arrival, the likeliness for a trap was almost non-existent.
Sirzechs Gremory, a Super Devil of the New Satan Faction finally took to battle.
Large swaths of land suddenly disappeared, craters forming where before it was a simple flat land. The Old Satan Faction was being annihilated from a combination of a lack of morale and indecision caused by fighting against a representation of the original Lucifer's will.
Ajuka sighed, seeing Sirzechs' recklessness, but it was then that Ajuka's famed Kankura formula manifested. After all, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't cover Sirzechs' back?
Taking to battle, Grafiya followed behind after Ajuka after taking one last glance at Euclid Lucifuge. Her brother had been left at a loss ever since the Crimson Legion appeared, and looking at him, there was a mad and questioning light in his eyes. Still, looking at Sirzechs fighting in the distance, she went to aid him.
Euclid Lucifuge, having been left behind wallowed in self thought. There was only a single question that constantly surfaced in his mind. Had Grayfia known about some hidden order given by the original Lucifer? Was that the reason for her defection? Otherwise, how could someone he so idolized betray him without a second thought? She was his blood, and they should have had both been loyal to Lucifer. Yet looking at the situation now, who was the one truly loyal to Lucifer.
His eyes stared hollowly in front of him. Only the front line of the Crimson Legion joined in on the battle, and even then, their influence destroyed row after row of defensives hastily created. The Legions of the chaotic times. He had once dreamed of them, trying to imagine the grandeur they must have had felt serving their master.
Yet now they faced him. Was he truly in the wrong?
Lost in his indecision, Euclid could do nothing but remain where he was as any leadership the Old Satan Faction had began to crumble along with the beliefs of their leaders.
The battlefield became chaotic, loud shouts and clashing weapons resounding on the flat plains.
In this chaos, Shirou was acting as effectively as he could. He attacked and slew numerous devils that he was able to determine were leaders and was making his way along the battlefield to aid the New Satan Faction members that were struggling or injured.
With the way things were right now, it was impossible for the Old Satan Faction to turn things back around in their favour. However, he wasn't quick to assume such a notion as his eyes narrowed on the presence he had been feeling spying at the edge of the battlefield.
It was someone with exceedingly powerful fluctuations in their aura, making it likely that this individual was on a similar level of power to Sirzechs who was unleashing his ability in full display. This was why Shirou was being cautious. Someone on a similar level as Sirzechs may possess the means to turn the situation around.
Yet, because Shirou was paying too much attention on this third party, he wasn't able to predict the actions of the members of the Old Satan Faction who were on the verge of being pushed to their deaths.
If they were to die, then they would rather die with full honours.
They charged towards the supposed 'main army' of the Crimson Legion causing Shirou's eyes to widen in alarm. Even Serafall had let out an involuntary shout amidst her actions of freezing an enemy to death.
There were around several hundred of them that charged forth. Their numbers weren't big when compared to the tens of thousands that the Old Satan Faction was originally composed of, but their numbers were still large enough to catch attention. For they were at least the size of a small battalion.
Lucas Arthos who stood within one of the crimson armours swallowed audibly, but his body remained firm and unmoving. He remembered the words that Shirou had said, and even though he was hesitant, he followed through with them.
He raised the weapons in his hands and aimed it towards the oncoming battalion. He was the first to take such an action from the low-class devils, but everyone else followed soon after. They believed in the devil that had shown them humility at the face of their own weakness. They chose to place their trust and loyalty in him.
Sparks began to emit from the tips of the weapons, and in that moment the pale purple shine of Devil Core suffused its surface. Those weapons weren't just ordinary weapons, they were hand forged by Shirou using the very techniques that created weapons of legend, Noble Phantasms. Of course, they weren't on a similar level, but just the fact that the method of forging was so similar produced a formability that couldn't be ignored.
A cacophony of light, fire, magic, and projectiles fired from those pointed blades and assaulted the incoming battalion before they could even get close.
They all died in a moment's time.
Compared to Shirou's performance at the beginning, it had seemed too casual. Shirou for his part actually seemed to exert effort as he chased after Vestalf to clinch victory which when compared to Lucas and the rest paled in comparison. They merely raised their weapons and unleashed their properties, destroying all.
The sight and smell of burnt ashes permeated all around, and the morale on the Old Satan Faction's side plummeted even further, many already beginning to retreat.
And soon,
"R-Retreat!"
The official retreat order was given. They ran in all direction, trying their best to escape, yet even then, a few remained stubborn and unable to accept the situation for what it was.
"T-This, how?!" A devil shouted in dismay at Serafall who had just finished destroying the last of the Old Satan Faction's defensive lines. "You are a Devil, a being at the same league as everyone present. How could you possibly command them!?"
The devil was referring to the Crimson Legion. For even if Serafall had intervened, it was the impact of the Legion alone that had turned the tides.
It was truly unfair. The devil that had spoken couldn't understand it. The Legions of the Underworld, should they not have had been on the same side as the Old Satan Faction who fought for Lucifer's ambitions? Instead, here they had appeared at the behest of a leader of the New Satan Faction.
The devil's breathing grew ragged as incomprehension clouded her mind much like Euclid Lucifuge whose inner turmoil was present on his face. First it was his sister Grayfia that had betrayed him, and now the Legions that could be said to represent the underworld and the original Lucifer were directly against him. Nothing made any sense any more.
"You don't have the right!" The devil's voice, was filled with an unwillingness that echoed out in the chaos loud enough that even those fleeing could hear it.
And a concise voice answered in response, soft-spoken yet filled with a sentiment that reflected her inner thoughts.
"You're correct that I have no right to command them, but," a finger pointed leisurely at a single individual. "He does."
All eyes turned, and unexpectedly, that finger was pointed at the very Legionary that had astounded many. The one that had stood out at the very beginning. Yet, none would believe it. After all, the Legionary was still as he was before, nothing but a mundane two-meter long blade in his hands which he used to cut down devil after devil.
Although his swordsmanship and natural power were astonishing, there was nothing from his image to his aura that disclosed anything different when compared to his compatriots. In fact, Serafall looked far more intimidating with the layers of frost and snow that permeated and expanded around her. Coupled with the feats she had accomplished in the previous confrontation between the factions, many were already weary of her, and this was before including the menacing aura of the armour she currently wore.
It was different from the rest, more sleek and refined. Compact would be a better term for it. If the regular crimson armours worn could be attributed with loose protective wear, then Serafall's was form fitting with complex designs etched into the armour of a time long forgotten.
"You think anyone would believe that?" The devil said in spite.
However, in the next moment, the devil's mouth closed as a suffocating pressure descended on the area; a heaviness suffusing the air and seemingly distorting it through sheer power.
Serafall smiled bewitchingly, a type of allure born from the satisfaction of pride lighting up her face, but at the same time a deep worry welling up from within her. She wasn't sure of the scope of Kuro's power, but he always seemed to have some sort of ill set back when using it. Yet Kuro would still use it anyway.
The man who was one of a kind.
Serafall took a breath, her eyes unblinking as she stared at the devils on the side of the Old Satan Faction.
"You were correct to say that I have no right to command the Legions of the Underworld," she began slowly, her voice capturing Euclid's full attention. "Only the original Lucifer had that right, but along with Lucifer were the pillars, the Guardian Nobilities of the Underworld."
The lesser Keys of the Ars Goetia.
Serafall's eyes turned fierce, her tone dropping as she spoke.
"And they too controlled their own Legions."
Bael, King of Hell, and owner of sixty-six legions.
Paimon, the devote and most loyal to Lucifer, owner of over two-hundred.
Silence followed, before all gazes shifted towards the source of the suffocating pressure.
The two-meter long blade had vanished, and in its place erupted a torrent of malefic energy unlike anything any devil could ever produce. It was vile, like a black pith that arose from the darkened ashes of countless atrocities. Completely chaotic. There was no order in it, simply unadulterated power stuffed full into the body of just a single being who bore the evils of the world.
To the devils present however, that kind of aura had a different meaning.
Something similar to those mighty individuals that had once existed in a tumultuous time.
This realization sunk in like paper to water, gradual yet undeniable, leaving an unsightly wet stain.
"T-This," words were no longer necessary to understand, but the disbelief was still apparent in the same way it had when the Crimson Legion first manifested. "Impossible!"
Panic.
Confusion.
And self-doubt.
Many thoughts and realizations were running rampant across the minds of all devils. Sirzechs and the others were no exception as their gazes naturally turned towards Serafall who was already opening her mouth to continue.
"If you truly believe it's impossible, then what is it that your eyes tell you?" She said.
The devils of the Old Satan Faction that were nearby and those further away and using sound transmission to listen-in were rendered mute; their gazes subconsciously locking on to the manifesting shadow created from the intensity of the aura Kuro was releasing.
A robust Lion wreathed in the marks of the twin keys.
A symbol of one of the Nobilities of the Seventy-Two.
The overseer of secrets, a President of Hell.
Many in both the Old and New Satan Faction swallowed, realizing just what exactly that symbol was. Ajuka more so than any other devil as he was the one who had once proposed for Serafall to seek aid from that particular territory.
"What does the boiling of your blood mean?"
Sona's voice continued unhindered. It alone being the only sound that echoed in the area as the suffocating pressure continued to descend.
"Surely you feel it too?" She paused, her expression softening as she stared at Kuro. "The calling, the impulse. That which your heritage compels you to acknowledge."
"He with the right to command the Legions," she pointed at Kuro whose form had altered.
The deep crimson of his armour replaced by a chilling black, tinges of red adorned on the far reaches of his vestments billowing in the wind produced by his own energy. Twin claws were carved on to the chest plate, the back etched with a crest of twin keys that stretched down the entirety of the mantle that hung over one shoulder.
Most of all, it was his towering presence that now forced weaker willed devils to bow.
An act of submission.
Something reserved solely for the acknowledgment of a higher being.
If it was only an inkling before, now she was certain as she gained confidence from her words.
"He is Marbas of house Marbas," she said candidly.
"Last Demon of the Underworld."
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票