(Author comments: Sorry guys i had some issuses with contract so i was late as compensation i will give you a info - this season is gonna end with chapter 20- and next season will begin with past of ronan in celestial realm- now this a Big leak)
Celia sat across from Gerald in the quiet lounge of his private office, her expression heavy with concern.
"Ronan has changed," Celia began softly, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "He used to hide his kindness behind sarcasm and distance. But now... it's gone. It's like something inside him snapped, and all that's left is cruelty. I know that it is pretty comman for us to kill people but whenever Ronan killed an innocent he morn for them. It doesn't happen like that anymore. He practicaly tormented a person just because he did something small. Now he smiles at people's death".
Gerald leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "You're not the only one who's noticed. It's not just cruelty—it's surgical, as if every action is meticulously calculated to inflict pain or push people away."
Celia nodded, her voice strained with emotion. "I've known Ronan long enough to see through his walls. He's not just shutting people out—he's doing it to protect us. He thinks that if he becomes someone we can hate, we'll be safer without him."
Gerald sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Classic Ronan. But if he keeps this up, he'll lose everyone who cares about him before he even realizes it."
Celia's gaze dropped, her heart heavy with unspoken fears. "He's pushing me away too... I've tried to reach him, but every time I do, he builds another wall. I don't know how much longer I can keep holding on."
Celia bit her lip, struggling to suppress the tears threatening to escape. "He's convinced that if he shows even a glimpse of emotion, everything will fall apart. But... what if it already is?"
Gerald leaned back, his expression grave. "He wants revenge. He now thinks that his entire existence is for Revenge."
Celia sat silently, absorbing his words. The room felt colder now, the weight of her unspoken worries pressing down on her.
"I just hope," she whispered, "that he realizes it before it's too late."
Gerald gave a small, sympathetic nod, though his eyes held the same uncertainty. "We can only hope, Celia. We can only hope."
Celia let out a slow breath, her gaze distant as if lost in memories. "Whenever Ronan lost his way, it was Dante who pulled him back. He always knew how to get through to him, no matter how far Ronan had fallen." Her voice softened with a tinge of sadness. "But now Dante's gone... and Ronan won't let us contact him—not even once. He's convinced that doing so could expose him somehow."
Gerald tilted his head, frowning. "Expose him? To who?"
Celia shook her head, frustration simmering beneath her calm tone. "He's paranoid about being discovered. It's as if he believes that even the smallest connection to Dante in Heaven could put everything at risk. But it's not like Dante would ever betray him."
Gerald leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "Then why does he block every path to Dante?"
"Fear," Celia whispered, her fingers tightening around the edge of her sleeve. "Ronan doesn't just fear exposure—he fears losing control. If Dante shows up and challenges the way Ronan's been handling things, he'll have to confront the person he's become." She sighed deeply, the weight of her helplessness pressing down on her. "But... Dante is the only one who can set Ronan back on the right path. Without him, we're just watching Ronan spiral, powerless to stop it."
Gerald tapped his fingers against the armrest, considering her words. A spark of resolve flickered in his eyes. "Then let's try to contact Dante ourselves."
Celia blinked, surprised. "What? Ronan would never allow—"
"He won't know," Gerald cut in smoothly. "Not if we're careful. We can do it secretly. Reach out to Dante before things get worse. If there's anyone who can turn this around, it's him."
Celia hesitated, her heart racing at the thought of going behind Ronan's back. But deep inside, she knew Gerald was right. If they waited any longer, Ronan might reach a point of no return.
"You think it's possible?" she asked, her voice filled with cautious hope.
Gerald gave a small, reassuring smile. "If we do this right, Ronan won't have a clue. And with Dante... we might have a chance."
Celia nodded slowly, the flicker of hope in her heart growing stronger. "Then let's do it. For Ronan."
Celia and Gerald entered their hidden base deep within the icy expanse of the North Pole. The cold air inside was heavy with anticipation as they made their way to the central console, surrounded by high-tech machinery humming softly. Gerald began activating the system, his fingers flying over the control panel.
With a low hum, the machine roared to life. A small blue vortex formed, shimmering faintly like a star flickering in the darkness. An enormous dish aligned itself toward the opening, sending signals through the portal.
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After a few tense moments, a connection was established. On the screen, the faint outline of Dante appeared, his expression immediately sharp with concern.
"Celia? Are you alright?" Dante's voice was steady, but a sense of urgency tinged his words.
Celia leaned closer to the monitor, her heart pounding. "Dante, we need—"
Suddenly, the entire machine powered down with a sputter, leaving them in the eerie silence of the base. The blue vortex flickered out of existence, plunging the room into near-darkness.
"What the hell?" Gerald muttered, quickly scanning the control panel. His fingers worked furiously as he tried to reboot the system.
Celia crouched beside him, her voice tight with frustration. "What happened? Why did it shut off?"
Gerald frowned, tapping at the terminal. "The power's been cut. It's not a malfunction—this was deliberate."
Celia's eyes widened as a chill crept through her. "We're the only ones here, Gerald... If it wasn't us, then that means—"
Her breath hitched. "It's Ronan. He must've found out."
Before Gerald could respond, a shrill beep came from the radar station. His eyes snapped toward the screen, where a fast-approaching blip was displayed, tagged as a friendly signal.
Celia's heart sank. "It's him... He's coming. And he's suited up."
Gerald's expression darkened. "He's not happy about this."
Celia stepped away from the console, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her. "Prepare yourself, Gerald. There might be a fight."
Gerald cracked his knuckles, his usual calm demeanor replaced by grim resolve. "If it comes to that, we won't go down easy."
The cold wind howled outside as the radar continued to beep, counting down the seconds until Ronan's arrival.
Celia moved swiftly to the armory, her fingers trembling only slightly as she opened a reinforced case. Inside lay her old suit, a relic from the days when she and Ronan had escaped the celestial realm together. She hesitated for a moment, memories washing over her, but steeled herself. This suit had once protected her during their flight from Heaven—and now, it would protect her again.
The suit locked into place with a series of metallic clicks, the sleek armor hugging her frame like a second skin. It shimmered faintly with a silver-blue glow, a reminder of who she used to be.
Just as she fastened the last piece of the suit, a thunderous thud echoed through the room, followed by another and another. Heavy, deliberate footsteps reverberated across the floor, growing louder with every step.
Celia's heart pounded in her chest as she turned to face the source.
Ronan stood at the entrance, towering in his full combat suit. It was unlike anything she had seen before. The armor was pitch black, with glowing blue energy veins radiating from the seams like a pulse of raw power. Every inch of his body was covered, the design far more advanced than anything she remembered—armor built for war against gods.
The sheer intensity of his presence filled the room, making it clear that he had come prepared for a serious confrontation. This was no ordinary visit.
His voice was ice-cold, sharp as a blade. "Explain yourself."
Celia took a breath, her expression unreadable. She knew Ronan far too well—there would be no point in denial. But she wasn't ready to tell him everything, not yet.
"I contacted Dante," she said, feigning nonchalance. "Because I missed him."
Ronan's piercing gaze didn't waver. The glowing veins along his armor flared slightly, as if in response to his growing irritation.
"Do I look like a fool to you, Celia?" His voice dipped dangerously low, each syllable dripping with menace. "I've had this entire place under constant surveillance. I know exactly why you contacted Dante."
He closed the distance between them, his presence overwhelming, a dark shadow that filled the space. "You wanted him to stop me—to resurrect the Ronan you once cherished. The kind, merciful Ronan."
His words sliced through the air like a blade, cold and calculated.
Celia met his gaze, her expression hardening under the weight of his accusations. The games were over. "Yes," she stated, her voice unwavering, a spark of defiance igniting within her. "That's exactly what I wanted."
An oppressive silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken emotions, a palpable tension crackling between them.
As Celia crouched beside the console, she focused her mind, channeling her telekinetic powers. The entire building groaned as its very structure began to shudder under her influence. Walls buckled and creaked, collapsing inward as massive chunks of debris rained down toward Ronan. A dense cloud of dust enveloped him, obscuring him from view.
Seizing the moment, Celia shot forward, her fist poised to strike. She burst through the cloud with deadly precision, aiming directly at Ronan's chest. But just as her fist was about to make contact, she felt a sudden shift in the air— It was illusion.
What?
In a split second, Celia's momentum carried her past him, and before she could process her miscalculation, an unseen force slammed into her side, throwing her off balance.
Boom!
Celia was propelled through the air like a ragdoll, crashing violently into the wall with a bone-rattling impact. The metal buckled beneath her, a jarring shock reverberating through her body as she slumped momentarily, gasping for breath.
A cold, mocking voice echoed through the haze, dripping with contempt.
"That's how you land a sneak attack, Ashfort." Ronan's armored figure emerged from the smoke, each movement exuding deliberate menace. "Your father did it better."
Celia wiped the blood from her lip, her eyes narrowing in a storm of frustration. "Tch. Seems you've forgotten something, Arcanveil."
In a flash, her figure blurred as she launched herself at him, a blur of motion and fury.
"You've never beaten me."
Her fist connected with brutal force, driving into Ronan's armor with explosive impact. The force of the blow sent him rocketing upward through the building, crashing through walls, floors, and ceilings until he burst straight into the open sky.
The shockwaves from his ascent shattered windows across the area, unleashing a storm of glass and debris that glittered in the air like deadly confetti.
Celia gritted her teeth, a fierce determination radiating from her as she gave chase. Sonic booms echoed around her as she accelerated, tearing through the sky at breathtaking speed. The very air screamed from the sheer force of her movement, the distance between them collapsing with every heartbeat.
Ronan, still airborne, remained eerily calm. He in mid-air, glancing back at her with a chilling nonchalance.
A faint smirk danced on his lips beneath the helmet.
"Gotcha."
Celia's heart raced, her eyes widening in alarm as a brilliant red light suddenly ignited behind him, descending from the sky like a divine curse.
Her heart skipped a beat. What?! That's impossible! We never launched satellites into orbit—how...?
Ronan's cold voice sliced through the chaos, brimming with smug confidence.
"System: Summon Gunnir."
Celia's blood ran cold.
Gunnir—the weapon of Ronan's judgment, a force of annihilation capable of eradicating entire planets. He only brings it out to kill a god. That weapon has hundreds of gods blood on it.