The Demon Lord’s abode loomed ominously from the outside, a colossal fortress of dark obsidian towers piercing the heavens. It was an architectural marvel of dread and grandeur, surrounded by swirling storms of shadow and fire. The structure seemed to pulsate with a malevolent energy, its spires casting long, twisted shadows that seemed to writhe and slither in the dim light.

Inside, the throne room was an expanse of dark luxury. The walls were lined with dark, polished stone that seemed to absorb the ambient light, adorned with intricate patterns of arcane symbols glowing faintly with an eerie blue light. At the far end of the room sat the Demon Lord’s throne—a massive, grotesque seat of bone and shadow, its dark contours twisted into a form both regal and terrifying.

Beyond the throne room lay the bedroom, a space equally imposing and disturbing. The walls here were adorned with luxurious, dark fabrics and gilded ornaments, though they did little to muffle the sounds of depravity echoing through the chamber. The bedroom was littered with unconscious women strewn across the floor, their bodies glistening with a thick, viscous substance that pooled around them.

The noise that permeated the room was a discordant symphony of groans and gasps, punctuated by the wet, rhythmic sounds of movement. The central figure, the Demon Lord himself, was engaged in a display of carnal excess. He was entwined with a woman in a position of utter submission, her body contorted and held tightly against him. His movements were unnaturally swift, seemingly defying the bounds of reality, his form a blur of motion.

As he continued, his eyes glinted with a cruel satisfaction. “The heavens finally make their move,” he declared, his voice a low, resonant growl that reverberated through the room. His gaze was cold and calculating, the implication of his words hanging heavy in the air.The sudden knocking at the bedroom door echoed sharply through the chamber. As the door swung open, a girl in a maid's outfit entered, her square-cut hair bouncing with each step. Her attire was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaotic scene within. The Demon Lord, Yami Saito, had finished indulging in his perverse activities. His naked form glistened with sweat, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of women strewn about the floor.

Yami Saito, unfazed by his state of undress, turned his gaze toward the maid, who had entered the room. His imposing figure was a stark reminder of his power. "What is it you need?" he inquired, addressing the maid by name.

The maid, named Eirene, found herself momentarily distracted by Yami Saito's physical presence and the sheer number of women he had pleasured. An involuntary thrill and profound attraction surged through her as she observed the Demon Lord. However, the gravity of his question jolted her back to reality.

"Eirene," she began, struggling to maintain her composure, "Morigan has been defeated, and Thalassa is dead. The Anakim army seeks permission to eliminate the heroes."

Upon hearing that Morigan had fallen, Yami Saito’s eyes narrowed with contemplation. He understood that only someone with pure divine power could surpass a true witch. Without hesitation, he snapped his fingers, and his demon lord robe materialized around him. The robe was reminiscent of a warlord’s garb but exuded an even more menacing aura. It was crafted from dark, flowing fabric interwoven with intricate patterns that resembled skulls and twisted, jagged motifs. The robe seemed to ripple with an intimidating energy, amplifying his already formidable presence.

In one hand, Yami Saito wielded a staff, its design intricate and sinister. The staff’s head was sculpted in the shape of a skull, adorned with arcane symbols and runes that glowed with a faint, eerie light. The staff seemed to pulsate with the same dark energy that surrounded him.

He strode out of the room, his imposing presence followed closely by Eirene. Their path led them to the main hall where the Anakim were assembled, ready to receive the Demon Lord’s command.The grand hall of Yami Saito's fortress was a colossal chamber, echoing with the murmurs of the assembled Anakim. The hall was adorned with towering, obsidian pillars and intricate carvings of dark, ancient runes that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim, flickering torchlight. The floor was a dark marble, veined with crimson, and the ceiling was lost in shadows, suggesting an endless expanse above.

The Anakim, imposing and formidable giants of ancient myth, stood in a semi-circle, their expressions a mix of frustration and impatience. Each Anakim was a towering figure, their bodies clad in a variety of elaborate armor and garb that highlighted their unique traits and roles within the army. Some wore ornate, spiked plate armor that shimmered with an ethereal glow, while others were draped in tattered cloaks adorned with dark sigils. Their massive weapons, ranging from enormous broadswords to spiked maces, were held with casual ease, yet exuded an air of deadly menace.

Thalassa's recent fall had ignited a fire of anger among the Anakim. Their complaints echoed through the hall:

**"Thalassa was a mighty general, fallen by the hands of mere heroes!"** roared one Anakim, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. His armor was a patchwork of blackened steel and bronze, marked with ancient runes, and he wielded a massive warhammer that seemed to hum with dark energy.

**"The Anakim deserve vengeance! We should not tolerate such insults to our power!"** another bellowed, his form clad in dark, flowing robes that billowed around him. His weapon was a colossal scythe, its blade gleaming with malevolent light.

Yami Saito listened to their grievances with a cold, detached demeanor. His gaze swept over the assembled giants, assessing their anger and frustration. As the last of the complaints subsided, he raised his hand, signaling for silence. His staff, adorned with a skull motif, tapped against the ground with a resonant thud, commanding attention.

**"Enough,"** Yami Saito’s voice was deep and commanding, cutting through the murmurs. **"Thalassa fought valiantly, but in the end, she fell. The heavens have dared to move against us, and now we must show them the full extent of our wrath."**

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. The Anakim fell silent, their anger turning into focused anticipation.

**"You have my permission,"** Yami continued, his tone filled with dark authority. **"Roam freely, seek out the heroes, and eradicate them with no mercy. Make their demise a lesson to all who dare oppose us. Show them the true power of the Anakim and our might."**

The hall erupted in a roar of approval and anticipation. The Anakim, now reinvigorated with purpose, prepared to carry out their orders. Their massive forms began to move with purpose, the air around them crackling with dark energy and anticipation.

As the Anakim departed the hall, Yami Saito remained behind, his expression a mask of dark satisfaction. His gaze followed their exit, knowing that their rampage would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies and reaffirm the dominance of the Demon Lord.

Yami Saito stood at the edge of his throne room, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as he stared into the dim glow of the room. Eirina was beside him, her blue eyes calm but inquisitive as they flickered in his direction.

"You sent them to their demise knowingly," Eirina said, her voice neutral yet carrying an underlying tension. She wasn’t accusing, but her tone made it clear that she understood Yami’s intentions better than anyone. "The Anakim didn’t stand a chance, not against those who had already defeated Morigan and Ladon."

Yami chuckled darkly, turning his gaze to her. "You’ve grown more confident, questioning my judgment so openly." His tone was laced with amusement, but a dangerous edge lingered beneath.

Eirina didn’t waver. Her piercing blue gaze remained steady, unwavering as she looked up at him. "I only speak the truth. Even with their strength, the Anakim were no match for the heroes."

"Fine," Yami said with a slight, annoyed sigh. "They asked for retribution. There’s no reason for me to refuse. Perhaps they’ll teach me more about which angel the Creator has sent."

"The Creator?" Eirina asked, curiosity piqued. Despite the tension, she couldn’t help but inquire further.

"Yes," Yami replied, his voice softening as he turned away from her and began walking toward his throne. "The ultimate god of this world, the one who sets the wheels of fate in motion. If he sent an angel, it’s not one to be taken lightly."

As Yami took his seat on the throne, the large double doors to the chamber creaked open, revealing two figures—Morigan and Circe. They had teleported to the demon lord’s castle, their presence heavy with unease. Morigan’s face was filled with shame, her shoulders slumped, eyes cast down. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Yami’s gaze, not after her defeat. Her body trembled subtly, betraying her fear of what punishment awaited her.

Yami strode past her, not even acknowledging her presence at first, until he stopped a few steps ahead. All Morigan could see was the demon lord’s broad, imposing back. The silence stretched on, suffocating her with the weight of it.

"You dare show yourself before me after such a failure?" Yami’s voice was cold, cutting through the room like a blade. Morigan flinched but didn’t speak. She didn’t attempt to make excuses; her heart raced as she prepared herself for whatever punishment awaited her.

Her eyes shut tightly as she braced herself, but Yami, with an almost deliberate slowness, turned to face her. He stepped closer, his presence looming as he lifted her chin with a single hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. His dark, void-like eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, her heart skipped a beat. His lips were close, his presence overwhelming.

But the words that escaped his lips were not the harsh judgment she feared.

"I’m relieved you’re still alive," Yami said, his tone unexpectedly soft.

Morigan’s eyes widened in disbelief. She had expected death, or at least some severe form of punishment, but instead, there was mercy. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her body shook with the release of the tension she had been holding. Yami had shown her a kindness she hadn’t anticipated.

Lilith, standing off to the side, scoffed in familiar annoyance, rolling her eyes at the display. Eirina, however, smiled knowingly. She had expected this outcome, fully aware of Yami’s strange sense of loyalty to those under his command.

Yami turned to Circe, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. "You can stop glaring at me with those murderous eyes, Circe. I know you're concerned for your sister, but you should learn to trust my judgment."

Circe said nothing, but her intense gaze softened ever so slightly. She had come here expecting retribution as well, and yet Yami had shown an unexpected understanding.

"Why?" Morigan finally found the courage to ask, her voice weak, filled with confusion. "Why spare me after my failure?"

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Yami's eyes softened as he looked at her. "The one who defeated you wasn’t supposed to be here. It’s a miracle you survived at all. You were never meant to win that battle."

Morigan lowered her head, her eyes filling with sadness and regret. She couldn’t shake the weight of her failure, and Yami could see that. He placed a comforting hand on her head, his voice taking on a gentler tone.

"Thalassa treasured you. Without her, you wouldn’t have made it this far. She sacrificed herself for you, Morigan. What could be more beautiful than a mother giving her life to protect her child?"

Morigan’s eyes filled with tears, and she broke down, crying openly as she leaned into Yami’s touch. For a moment, the cold, ruthless demon lord showed a rare warmth, patting her gently as she released her sorrow.

"Finally acting your age," Yami said with a small, wry smile as he held her close, comforting her in a way only he could.

Lilith muttered something under her breath, clearly jealous but ultimately letting it slide with a sigh. Circe, on the other hand, smiled softly, watching the scene unfold with a sense of relief.

Yami eventually pulled back, his expression returning to its usual cold and commanding state. "Prepare yourselves," he said, his voice once again sharp. "The real battle is yet to come.”Lilith crossed her arms, her expression unimpressed. "Is that all, Yami-sama?" she asked, her eyes flickering toward Morigan. "Shouldn't she receive some form of punishment as well? After all, a failure should not go unpunished."

Yami Saito turned his sharp, dark gaze on Lilith, the room growing tense as his menacing aura radiated outward. Yet Lilith, unfazed, held her ground, the playful glint in her eyes masking the challenge beneath her words. Morigan, feeling the weight of both their gazes, remained silent for a moment but nodded in agreement. She was not seeking to escape her failure, and in a way, she needed the punishment for peace of mind.

Yami sighed, his usual authority creeping back into his tone. "Very well," he conceded, the annoyance evident in his voice as he gave in to Lilith’s demand. "Morigan, you will be tasked with guiding the void creatures. They will accompany you on a raid into a realm that has been resisting the expanse of my void."

Morigan tilted her head, her expression shifting. "A realm?" she asked cautiously, intrigued by the idea but unsure of what awaited her.

"Yes," Yami responded, his eyes narrowing with interest. "It is a distant world, far beyond this one, lying on the boundary between worlds. It resides in the fifteenth layer of the Ophanim."

"The fifteenth layer?" Circe's voice broke the silence as she spoke up, her eyes widening. "That’s where the magic gods reside, isn’t it? The ones tasked with observing the threads of fate below."

Yami nodded. "Indeed. The gods there believe they can watch over the fate of all worlds below them. I want you to utterly destroy them, along with the realm they guard."

Morigan's lips curled into a sinister smile. The innocent, childish expression she once held was long gone, ever since Thalassa’s death. What remained was a personality steeped in sadism, a dangerous glint in her eyes that matched the deadly force she had once been known for. "Magic gods, huh?" she said softly, her voice laced with malice. "It will be a pleasure."

Yami’s gaze swept over her, his expression growing contemplative. "Your hair…" he murmured, taking note of the change. It had turned a deep, ominous black—a transformation that signified something far more significant than her outward appearance.

"It seems," Yami continued with a wry smile, "you’ve regained access to your true power as the Witch of Corazon. The one who once hijacked the threads of fate from the upper gods themselves."

Morigan touched her hair absentmindedly, her smile widening. "So, it’s finally returned," she whispered, almost to herself. The thrill of regaining her lost power coursed through her veins, and she felt the same dark energy that once allowed her to twist the very fabric of fate at her fingertips once more.

Lilith, watching the scene unfold, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Eirina, standing in the background, remained silent, her sharp blue gaze still fixed on Yami. She had seen this before—the rise of Morigan’s yandere tendencies as her power grew stronger. It was a dangerous path, but one that would serve Yami's plans.

Yami, having made his decision, turned back to his throne, his voice cool and commanding. "Prepare yourself, Morigan. You leave at dawn. The magic gods will soon learn the consequences of defying me.”Yami turned to Eirina, his voice steady but firm. “Eirina, you will accompany Morigan.”

Eirina’s eyes widened in shock. She didn’t want to go. The thought of confronting the magical gods, those beyond even the highest archangels, sent a shiver through her. But she knew better than to question the demon lord’s command. Still, a moment of hesitation flickered across her face. She looked to Yami, her voice soft but edged with resistance. "Do you know what you're asking of me, Yami-sama? What exactly do you know about these magic gods?"

Yami’s lips curved into a small smile as he spread his arms wide, the room growing dim as a strange, glowing light danced around him. "The magic gods," he began, his tone carrying a theatrical air, "are not simple beings, Eirina. They are the third creation of the Creator, born after the archangels, imbued with the sole purpose of watching over the myriad worlds in the Creator’s place."

As Yami spoke, the glowing lights around him formed intricate weaves in the air, creating a shifting tapestry of orbs and threads, a faint glimpse of the vast cosmos that lay beyond their understanding. He pointed upward, his expression darkening. "Their realm cannot be reached by mere means. It is a domain far beyond comprehension, surpassing all the layers below it. An infinite transcendence."

He gestured again, this time toward a swirling mass of lights. "The fifteenth layer of the Ophanim, the realm of the magic gods, is composed of countless weaved orbs, a place where reality bends to their will. Each layer beneath it is a world unto itself, tethered to the weaves of creation. But in the fifteenth, the magic gods reside as true transcendental beings—overseeing, unbound by any of the rules governing the lower worlds."

Eirina’s breath caught as she absorbed his words. "And how can we possibly enter such a place?"

Yami’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "To enter their realm, one must merge with the void itself, moving faster than its expanse, becoming one with the very essence of nothingness. Only then can you dwell within the magic barrier that shields their realm. That, or..."

His voice trailed off as he pointed toward Morigan, who smirked in response. "Or you take the other path. Morigan here has once merged with one of the magic gods. As such, she has a unique connection to their realm. She can pass through their shield without being rejected by creation itself."

Yami’s gaze lingered on Morigan, who met his eyes without wavering. "Do you think you can withstand the pressure of such transcendence again?" he asked, his tone challenging yet curious.

Morigan’s answer was instant, her confidence unwavering. "Of course, Yami-sama. I’ve endured worse."

She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing in fierce determination. "Once the magic gods are obliterated, I have but one request: to avenge Thalassa by killing the heroes who dared to defeat her."

Yami tilted his head, considering her request for a moment before nodding. "So be it. If you succeed, I will allow you your retribution."

The room seemed to breathe with the weight of his command, and Morigan’s lips curled into a wicked smile, her dark power radiating through the air.

Yami turned his attention back to Eirina. "Now that you know what awaits you, are you prepared to fulfill your role?"

Eirina took a deep breath, her initial hesitation fading. She had no choice, and there was no denying the demon lord’s will. "Yes, Yami-sama," she answered quietly.

Yami’s expression softened, his usual coldness momentarily replaced with an odd mixture of admiration and cruelty. "Good. Then let me explain further about the structure of the Ophanim."

He gestured toward the glowing orbs in the air once more, manipulating the lights to form a vast, interconnected web of layers. "The first few layers are mere reflections of the worlds below, realms of basic existence—fragments of time, space, and energy. As you ascend through the layers, the structure becomes more complex. Reality bends, magic intensifies, and the gods who govern each level grow more powerful."

He pointed to the mid-layers. "Here, the gods are akin to those who shape worlds. They manipulate the threads of fate, ensuring the balance of life, death, and rebirth. But above them, in the highest layers, reside the magic gods. These beings are beyond the gods who oversee mere worlds. They manage the grander forces—the laws that govern entire realities. Their statues as transcendental beings make them untouchable to any mortal or lesser god."

Eirina's eyes flickered over the structure, her mind racing to comprehend the scale of what Yami was describing.

"And their realm?" she asked, curiosity overcoming her reluctance.

Yami waved his hand, summoning an image of a massive, otherworldly palace, shimmering with unearthly light. "Their realm is called *Astraleon*, the Hall of the Infinite Weaves. It’s a place where time and space collapse into a singularity of ever-flowing magic. The weaves they control hold the fate of entire worlds. Each orb you see within the fifteenth layer is a world they govern, a thread in the grand tapestry of existence. They are beyond even the archangels, eternal and unchanging, transcending all."

Eirina took a step back, awe mixing with dread. "And we are supposed to challenge them?"

Yami smiled, a dark and twisted grin. "You don’t need to challenge them. You need to annihilate them."

The weight of his words settled heavily over the room, and for a moment, all fell silent. Morigan, Circe, and Eirina all knew the magnitude of the task before them, but there was no turning back now. The realm of the magic gods awaited, and the power they sought to destroy was like nothing they had faced before.

Yami, returning to his throne, let the silence hang for a moment before adding, "Remember, the gods will not expect you. They believe their power is absolute. Use that arrogance against them."

With that final command, the demon lord sealed their fates. The raid on *Astraleon* was set in motion, and the balance of countless worlds hung in the balance.In a place where light did not reach, where the very fabric of reality seemed frayed, Kaelus found himself floating in a vast sea of darkness. The air around him felt thick, like the suffocating grasp of a nightmare he could not wake from. His body was adrift, aimlessly, as though tethered to nothing. The only thing that reminded him he was still conscious was the sight of the void expanse, stretching infinitely in all directions.

But then, out of the darkness, something stirred. A flicker of movement—no, more like a blazing force hurtling toward him at an impossible speed. His eyes widened, and though he tried to move, his body refused to obey. It was as if the void had anchored him, rendering him motionless in the face of whatever was coming.

The figure approached swiftly, its presence overwhelming. It wasn’t human—far from it. It had the form of a towering *seraphim*, its six great wings ablaze with divine fire. Its body was adorned in celestial armour that glimmered with radiant light, but its face... it had no true face, only a swirling vortex of blinding brilliance where eyes should have been. Each of its six wings bore countless eyes that gazed unblinkingly, their eternal sight watching every corner of creation. Its hands, long and clawed, held a sword that seemed forged from the purest essence of light itself, a blade that could cleave the heavens and the stars alike.

Kaelus could do nothing but watch as the seraphim descended upon him, its fiery wings burning the void around it. Just as the being was about to reach him, everything vanished in a sudden, jarring shock.

Kaelus’s eyes snapped open, his vision flooded with the sight of a stone ceiling above him, flickering shadows cast by the fire that crackled beneath his feet. His head pounded, disoriented, as he slowly sat up, trying to gather his thoughts. Where was he? What was this place?

As he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, a familiar voice echoed behind him.

“You’ve finally woken up. Took you long enough.”

Kaelus turned to see Selena standing near the fire, her arms crossed casually over her chest. She wore a smile, though it seemed half-hearted, as though masking something more complex beneath her usual bravado. She waved lazily, greeting him as though they had merely shared a long nap rather than... whatever had just happened.

"Three days," she continued, her voice teasing but with a faint undercurrent of relief. "You’ve been out for three days."

Kaelus blinked, confusion weighing heavily on his mind. "What... happened? Where am I?"

Selena tilted her head, her long hair catching the flicker of the fire’s light. “You really don’t remember, do you?” she said, sighing softly. “You were killed. In our fight with the witch three days ago. She... well, she decapitated you.”

Kaelus froze, trying to process her words. Decapitated? His mind raced back to the battle—flashes of pain, the cold steel of his own sword... He instinctively reached for his neck, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. It was intact. But how?

Selena noticed his shock, her expression softening slightly. “Elias said you were being manipulated during the fight. Your own sword... your own hand cut off your head. It wasn’t your fault.”

She glanced over at the door, where the faint sound of footsteps echoed. “Gabriel was here too. He said you’d revive soon, so we stayed here, waiting for you to wake up.”

Kaelus sat in stunned silence, the weight of her words crashing over him like waves. Killed? Revived? He had died, yet here he was, alive again.

“All of it,” Selena finished with a shrug, “was out of our hands. We just... waited for you to come back.”

Kaelus lowered his head, trying to make sense of everything. He remembered the witch, the battle, the moment everything had gone dark. But now, the aftermath felt like a strange, distant dream.

He looked at Selena, his voice weak but steady. "And now?"

Selena raised an eyebrow, that familiar mischievous glint returning to her eyes. “Now? We keep going, of course. Can’t let a little thing like death stop us, can we?”

Kaelus chuckled despite himself, though his heart still weighed heavily with unspoken questions. But for now, the fire crackled softly at his feet, the warmth a strange contrast to the cold void he had left behind.