Gabriel was still buzzing with exhilaration, his soul thrumming with the aftershock of landing a Divine Flash. As his battle concluded, Metatron’s and Uriel’s duel reached its fierce climax.

  The two were nearly equal in skill, deflecting strikes and countering with precision. Yet, Uriel held a slight edge. He feinted, stopping his punch just short of Metatron’s face, forcing a premature block. Metatron’s deflection missed its mark, and Uriel followed with a powerful superman punch.

  Metatron managed to put his hands up, but the force of the blow sent him skidding across the ground.

  He rolled and landed on one knee, but before he could rise, Uriel lunged forward with a swift sidekick. Metatron ducked, dodging by inches, and thrust forward with a counterpunch. Uriel caught the punch with both hands, twisting his soul and looping his leg, the same one he’d kicked with, around Metatron’s neck.

  What the—? Metatron’s thought was cut short as Uriel slammed his other leg into his throat.

  He coughed up blood. But Uriel wasn’t finished. Twisting his soul, he used the momentum to throw Metatron across the arena, all while still gripping his arm. The brutal throw snapped Metatron’s right hand.

  Struggling to one knee, Metatron raised his uninjured hand in surrender. “Let’s call it a day for now.”

  Uriel froze mid-strike, his Divine Flash seconds away from landing. Frustrated by the sudden halt, he growled under his breath and stormed out of the training hall.

  Later, after healing his wounds, Metatron switched to his robes and entered his quarters.

  Without looking up, he said quietly, “You can come out now.”

  Zadiel flew down from the shadows. “Lord Metatron, you’re back!” He rushed forward to hug him, only to notice the dried blood on his robes. “You’re hurt! Are you alright?”

  “Of course I am,” he replied, brushing it off. “Just a spar with Uriel. It got… a bit heated.”

  Zadiel frowned. “Is that how you train here? You hurt each other.”

  “We simulate real combat whenever possible,” he explained. “Light training only gets you so far. You need to know how you’ll react when the real thing happens.”

  “I see.” Zadiel nodded, though his voice carried a hint of unease. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”

  “Until we find a permanent place for you.”

  “Oh.” He sighed. “Now that we’re in Heaven… can I meet my father?”

  Metatron’s expression softened. “No. Your father committed a grave act. He’s being punished. You won’t see him until his sentence ends.”

  Zadiel’s eyes fell. “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. Father is merciful,” Metatron said softly. “I’m sure He’ll release him in a few aeons. Cheer up.”

  “What about that angel?”

  The memory of his siblings’ massacre tore through Zadiel’s mind, and his soul trembled.

  “Am I even safe here?”

  Metatron laid a steady hand on his shoulder. “You are safe. Samael wouldn’t hurt you—he’s imprisoned as well.”

  “He isn’t dead? He slaughtered millions.” Zadiel’s eyes widened.

  “As I said, Father is merciful.” Metatron snapped his fingers, and a platter of golden fruit shimmered into existence.

  “I promise no one will harm you as long as I’m around. Eat.”

  Zadiel obeyed, but the sorrow in his heart would not fade.

  The relentless training pushed the three members of Dead End beyond their peers—all except Fafniel, who did his own personal training.

  While the others sparred with archangels, Fafniel sought the highest challenge. After discovering how Asmodiel had ascended so rapidly, he followed suit, studying the same mysterious book and training daily. His aura swelled, eventually rivalling that of a full-powered archangel.

  A week later, Samael was permitted to teach again. Each day, he was escorted from the First Layer of Heaven to the Fifth, where he trained the archangels, the angel generals, and the members of Dead End.

  For four weeks, Samael drilled them in fundamentals—footwork, strength, speed, and mana efficiency. But in the fifth week, everything changed.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Samael’s voice carried like thunder through the hall. “I know some of you hate me. Some of you even wonder why I’m the one training you, but the answer is simple: I’m here to keep you alive.”

  An angel general with crimson eyes scoffed. “Keep us alive? We’ve always beaten the fallen angels. We don’t need you.”

  Samael chuckled. “Is that so? Who else believes that?”

  Several generals raised their hands. The archangels and members of Dead End did not. They knew better. If Samael—the most prideful of them all didn’t share their arrogance, they shouldn’t either.

  “Only the generals, I see.” Samael’s gaze hardened. “Then listen closely. It’s time you learned the truth about how fallen angels are born.”

  The generals exchanged puzzled looks, while those who’d attended Samael’s trial braced themselves. He began to explain, his words cutting through disbelief like fire through mist.

  He told them of Chaos, the formless power that gave birth to fallen angels, allowing them to match the angels even without a Grace and how Azazel split his soul so the fallen angel generals could all have a fragment of the power stone. Gasps rippled through the room.

  “So, we’re fighting enemies who have inexhaustible power?” Amenadiel asked.

  Samael’s eyes narrowed. “It’s worse than that. We’re facing those who wield both a portion of the stone and Chaos at full strength.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Shock and fear spread across the ranks. Michael stepped forward, anger blazing. “How long have you known this?”

  “Enough!” Uriel seized Michael’s wrist before he could advance.

  The sheer strength of his grip startled Michael. When did he become this strong?

  “Calm yourself,” Uriel said. His tone was firm, commanding. Samael met his gaze and smiled faintly, seeing in him a reflection of his younger self.

  “Fine,” Michael muttered, stepping back.

  “Continue, Master,” Uriel said respectfully.

  “Thank you,” Samael replied. “As I was saying, it’s time to push your training to the next level.”

  “Lord Samael!” Fafniel called out.

  Samael smiled faintly. “I’ve been stripped of that title, Fafniel. No need for the formality.”

  “Forgive me, habit.”

  “What’s your question?”

  “How strong is Chaos?”

  “Good question,” Samael said approvingly. “Chaos is the absence of order. It allows fallen angels to break the laws of our world and wield power beyond our Grace itself. None of us can defeat it through strength alone. Hybrids will always be superior in power, so we must surpass them in skill.”

  Fafniel blinked. “You jest?”

  “This is no jest.” Samael lifted his hand, counting off his words. “We’ll learn five things: Circuit Fusion, Divine Flash, Ultimate Domain, Divine Territory, and Tier Magic.”

  Murmurs filled the room.

  “Divine Territory?” Amenadiel asked. “That’s beyond even most archangels.”

  “Doesn’t matter, you’ll have to learn it,” Samael said flatly. “The fallen angel nobles expect you to stop at Ultimate Domain, and like I said before, you would lose if you fight them with skills similar to theirs. Surprise them with your Territory and overwhelm them, that’s the path to victory.”

  Silence followed. Fear rippled through the generals. Then, all at once, they shouted, “Yes, sir!”

  Samael nodded. His presence commanded them more effectively than any archangel ever could.

  “Good. Today, we begin with Circuit Fusion and Divine Flash.”

  The red-eyed general from earlier muttered, “What a waste of time. Divine Flashes are luck-based—”

  He froze. Every member of Dead End glared at him. He swallowed hard and fell silent.

  Samael smirked. “As I was saying, wait. A new face?” His gaze locked onto one angel. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Beelzibel, sir. The newest member of Dead End.”

  “Interesting. Who did you impress to get in?”

  Before Beelzibel could answer, Michael sighed. “Can we get on with it?”

  “Let him answer first,” Samael said, still gazing at Beelzibel.

  “That would be me,” Fafniel spoke up, raising his hand.

  Samael’s grin widened. “Interesting.” He turned back to the front. “Alright, back to training.”

  “Finally,” Michael muttered, earning a glare from Ariel.

  Samael demonstrated Circuit Fusion. The archangels and Dead End mastered it instantly. The generals, however, struggled. Only after several rounds of Samael’s sharp guidance did most succeed—except Eliel, the same general who had been mouthing off.

  Samael strolled over. “What’s wrong? You’re embarrassing yourself,” he whispered.

  Flustered, Eliel tried again. And failed, again. The sight was so pitiful that the room erupted in laughter.

  “Don’t laugh,” Samael said, barely suppressing his own grin. “Give him one more try.”

  Michael had to step in and help, guiding Eliel until he finally succeeded.

  “Good. Now, using mana manipulation, speed up your mana circulation, which would in turn speed up your blood circulation. The faster it moves, the stronger your soul becomes.

  The archangels and Dead End nailed it quickly. Eliel, however, struggled once more. Samael sighed, crouching beside him. “You again? Concentrate on your mana circuits. Feel them. Circulate your mana faster.”

  Eliel gritted his teeth, and this time, he got it right. The others gave him mocking looks, which he tried to ignore.

  “Now for the main lesson,” Samael said, drawing all their attention. “I’m going to teach you Divine Flash. Normally, it’s a matter of luck. But with Circuit Fusion, you can trigger it on command.”

  Finally, I’m going to learn how to land it on command… Gabriel thought, watching intently.

  “To land a Divine Flash, you must strike precisely as mana surges into the limb you’re using. That’s it. Land five in a row. Begin.”

  The Dead End members completed it with ease. The archangels followed soon after. However, the generals… struggled.

  They kept messing up the timing, so Samael gave them a hint.

  “Focus on your timing. Don’t just throw a punch and hope it lands. Make sure your punch starts when your mana flows to your shoulders.”

  With that hint, they all managed to complete the task.

  Samael nodded. “Good, but use it sparingly. Overusing Divine Flash is a rookie mistake.”

  Eliel scoffed. “Why hold back? Shouldn’t we use our strongest attack whenever possible?”

  Samael smiled. “Excellent. Step forward, you’ve just volunteered to show the class what happens when you only throw Divine Flashes.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry, as I am now, I’m weaker than you,” Samael said calmly. “To prove it, punch the ground.”

  Eliel hesitated, then obeyed. The ground cracked open under his fist. Samael mimicked the motion. His own punch drew blood but left no mark.

  “You see these cuffs?” Samael raised his wrists. “They restrict my power. Now, attack me with a Divine Flash.”

  Uriel immediately objected. “Master, there’s no need for this.”

  “Yes, brother, you have nothing to prove,” Ariel added, concern in her voice.

  “Samael doesn’t need your concern; he can do what he likes,” Michael said, and Metatron agreed.

  Uriel fell silent, though unease remained in his eyes. Eliel, bolstered by their words, grinned confidently. He charged forward.

  Samael shifted into a wide stance, eyes sharp. In a flash, Eliel struck. But Samael moved faster, deflecting the blow into Eliel’s chest. The impact sent him flying into the wall so hard that it cracked in a thunderous snap.

  Golden motes drifted through the air as Eliel crumpled, sliding down the fractured gold. Pale gold blood traced a line from his lips before his eyes fluttered shut. Raphael was already moving, hands glowing as he knelt to heal him.

  Uriel stared in awe, pride blooming in his chest. As expected of my master.

  Samael dusted his hands. “As you saw, Divine Flash isn’t unstoppable. Overuse it, and it can be countered. Time your attacks carefully, or you’ll end up like him. That’s all for today.”

  The angels bowed, taking the advice to heart and dispersed except for Jophiel.

  “Let me guess, you want me to train you, right?” Samael asked.

  “Of course. If I’m to face Zeref again, I need to be stronger. As I am now, I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “You’re right,” Samael said. “But that can change, with my guidance.”

  “My thoughts exactly. What’s my first lesson?”

  “Your first lesson is to listen. You already have three advantages,” Samael said. “First, you want to win more than he does.”

  Jophiel frowned. “How is that an advantage?”

  “Because desperation is power. You’re willing to risk everything to win, he isn’t. That makes you dangerous. Second, your agility. And third—your terrifying divine ability.”

  Jophiel tilted her head. “You mean ‘Beauty of the Lord’? You told me how impressive it was a while ago, but I just haven’t seen it.”

  “That’s because you haven’t trained it yet. Once you do, you’ll be one of the most dangerous archangels.”

  “Good, I can’t wait. Can we start now?”

  “Hold that thought. First, we have to discuss your biggest weakness, your mana capacity. You have the lowest among the archangels, and with the number of times I want you to use your divine ability, that wouldn’t do.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “False. You can increase mana through training, but it won’t matter. With the power stone, Zeref’s mana will always surpass yours. So, we’ll focus on efficiency.”

  “And how do I train that?”

  “Meditation.”

  Jophiel groaned. “Really?”

  “Yes. I know it isn’t very interesting, but it’s essential. Meditation sharpens your cognition and reduces mana expenditure. Every drop counts against someone whose mana can’t finish.”

  She crossed her arms. “I asked for training, not napping. What a waste of time.” She stormed out.

  As she left, Samael heard a voice—dark, familiar.

  Training her is a mistake. She’s too dangerous. Let her die.

  “Pathetic,” Samael muttered. “You’re afraid of Jophiel now? You disappoint me. No rival of mine should be afraid of a weakling like that.”

  The white-haired figure in his mind scoffed. Remember, I warned you.

  Samael shook his head and returned to his cell. “You’ve really lost it. None of the archangels are a threat to me. The mere idea is inconceivable.”

  In her room, Jophiel resumed striking drills, but Samael’s words lingered. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. I’ll try it. Just for today.”

  Wiping sweat from her brow, she sat cross-legged and closed her eyes.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  She focused. Time slowed, then sped up. The world faded into darkness, a void of endless silence. Her consciousness drifted until she felt herself separate, watching her own soul from beyond.

  Her eyes flew open. “What… just happened?” she whispered, trembling.