Ascension of the Dark Seraph-Chapter 257: An Archangel’s Dilemma

It started with nothingness encompassing his mind as a whole.

Slowly, the eerie, cold air of the Inner Chamber faded away, the sound of Sha purring asleep snuffed by the void, and the hissing of Gandr swallowed by the void. A sense of detachment ensued, separating his senses from the surroundings.

For a moment, nothing was around him.

Lucivar felt like he was drifting in the void as a soul, devoid of any physical manifestation.

Around this nothingness, it doesn't bother him.

Instead, he felt like he belonged here—as if he had already arrived at his destination.

An empty space that was all for himself.

He couldn't see, couldn't smell, couldn't hear, couldn't feel, and couldn't touch.

All his senses were taken from him.

But soon, those senses came back—the first thing he felt was the violent rush of warm wind that heated up his skin. Then, the sound of iron against something solid. It was constant and steady, almost like the sound of a march.

Slowly but surely, his senses were returned back at him.

Once he regained his physical body, he opened his eyelids to see where he was.

For a couple of times, his pupils dilated—adjusting to the bright light that felt like it wanted to burn his eyes. Lucivar blinked rapidly, to hasten the adjustment process, and came to realize—that he was now within his Snippet of Bloodline.

Above, the sky raged like a wrathful God, churning in a tempest of obsidian clouds.

So thick that they could blot out creation itself.

Then, Lucivar focused on the wind that howled like a savage, unrelenting scream, stripping away sound and breath as it tore through the air like serrated blades. It was chaotic and unnatural, there should not be any wind of this caliber in normal circumstances.

As he turned his head, he realized that he was at the center of a marching army.

Pristine, armored silhouettes of soldiers with a majestic pair of wings.

Around them were the cause of this violent wind—five colossal tornadoes that spiraled downward from the storm-wracked heavens. Each one streaked with veins of red lightning, thundering like the heartbeat of a dying world.

Lucivar glanced underneath and realized the ground mirrored the chaos above.

A shattered canvas of ruin and fire.

Cracks split open the earth in violent patterns, glowing from within as pulsating lava surged like molten blood beneath a wounded sky. Even though the land was no longer prosperous, and fractured, it seemed more alive—exhaling heat and smoke through its cracks.

One look was enough to tell that Lucivar was on a battlefield.

He was now marching forward with his army.

'A high-ranking Angel, no… an Archangel,' Lucivar thought inside. 'She's an Archangel.'

Unlike watching from a spectator's point of view, as he initially expected, the Snippet of Bloodline had him be the Archangel ancestor from whom his bloodline originated. It was surreal..

Lucivar felt like this body, this slender, female, yet extremely powerful body, was his.

Suddenly, the army came to an abrupt stop.

A brilliant red star shot upward in the distance, exposing itself with a flare of its wings as a human, no, a celestial being who exuded malice beyond measure. Not even Lucivar could hope to reach this level of maliciousness that seeped into the bones.

It was terrifying, but this body, his body, was calm.

Lucivar looked up, and he clearly saw the wicked, celestial being's lips move.

He couldn't hear the celestial being's voice.

But it seemed like the celestial being was talking to him, taunting him from the gestures.

Then, out of nowhere, a malicious pulse of red energy burst forth from the wicked celestial being.

Its power spread throughout the entire army, causing some of them to twitch, corrupted by the wave of dark energy. However, the Archangel's body, the body Lucivar was residing in right now, stood up, and with a swift movement, she flared her ten wings and shot to the sky.

Facing the wicked celestial being, her ten wings stretched and exploded with a holy light.

All of the corrupted soldiers—who were brushed by this holy light, were purified, returning them back to their normal selves. Lucivar paid close attention to the situation, noting anything that could be taken as a Primeval Skill, 'A cleansing ability? Lame. I don't care about the others. Just give me something that would make me strong.'

Once the soldiers marched onward, the Archangel and the wicked celestial being clashed.

Lucivar was moving at the speed of light, an illuminating starfall, like a brush against the white canvas.

But in this case, he was the brush and the sky was the white canvas.

Space and time broke down—cracks in reality formed with each clash, enhancing the chaos to another level. As he and the celestial being clashed hard, splitting the space open and sending them flying away like a ragdoll, he and the celestial being crashed to the ground.

In a fit of anger, the wicked celestial being's body was charged with a relentless amount of crimson energy.

His chest glowed bright red—amassing power that quaked the earth.

Then, the wicked celestial being lifted his sword and pointed it skyward, shooting a crimson beam into the sky as an intimidation display. It worked. Everyone—the heavenly soldiers who were marching with trained unity wavered.

And without pulling back anything, the wicked celestial being's sword arced down.

Slash!

A world-shattering vertical, crescent-shaped judgment from Hell blasts forward with unrelenting might.

It was so powerful that the world was dyed blood-red.

Nobody could face this entity, that is, until the Archangel landed in front of the marching army.

Crossing her ten wings, she created a holy protection so massive that its light robbed half of the world.

Now, the world was split into red and white as their powers clashed once again.

For a second there, Lucivar thought she was winning—the face of the wicked celestial being twisted in shock and disbelief. The Arcangel's superiority became blaring when the crimson arc exploded, turning into particles of light that not only healed the soldiers and rejuvenated their spirits, but also healed the scars sustained by the reality around them.

But then, something weird happened.

Lucivar felt a chilling sensation gripping his behind.

It grasped him, specifically him, not the Archangel's body he was in right now.

Despite the chilling sensation, a smile crept to his face as he was suddenly pulled out of the body.

Specifically, he was pulled down into the molten ground, but the Archangel broke free from the snippet and caught Lucivar's hand. Her face was blinding, her features couldn't be seen, but Lucivar would not mistake her for someone else.

"Let me go, you stupid, Angel," Lucivar barked. "Isn't it about time you give up?"

"No!" the Archangel retorted fiercely. "I don't care how far you've fallen. I don't care how much grasp the darkness has on you. I don't care how many times I needed to try. Whatever it takes, I'm going to return you back to normal. I'm going to cleanse away their corruption on you!"

"Really?" Lucivar smirked devilishly. "Then let's see how you handle it on my turf!"

Glancing over his shoulder, Lucivar nodded.

"Loki, pull us down!" He demanded.

Swoosh!

Almost instantly, the ground underneath his feet turned into an emerald gate that opened wide instantly like Hell's mouth. Lucivar fell, dragging the Archangel down with him—a maniacal laugh slipped out from his lips.

It was a kaleidoscope of lights for a second, until finally, the two of them landed on solid ground.

Splash!

Upon landing, the Archangel looked around and realized that she was in an empty void—the scent of evil inside this void was thick, so thick that her ten wings were losing their light. Then, her eyes snapped to the side.

Emerging from the darkness was a pair of emerald eyes.

Before she could say anything, a spotlight shone on her—highlighting her as the person of the moment.

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The Archangel was blinded for a second—the light shining on her was a false one.

Then, another spotlight landed on the pair of emerald eyes ahead, showcasing that it was Lucivar—and he was smiling at the Archangel eerily. But what scared the Archangel the most was not his smile, but the amount of evil behind his eyes.

He was corrupted beyond measure, the darkness inside him was growing rapidly.

"I am getting tired of others—saying they wanted to return me to normal, to how I once was," Lucivar said, his voice echoed within this empty void, and there was a tinge of exhaustion in it. "What do you think about my growth?"

As he said that, Lucivar spread his arms to the side—the emerald intensity in his eyes was blazing.

"This is the new normal for me," He continued. "My past is already dead, and you need to accept it."

"Lucivar… listen to me." The Archangel tried to approach, but her steps halted.

She took one step forward and Lucivar disappeared from his spot, as if the void has hidden him in the blink of an eye. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she turned frantically, "Loki!!" She shouted, the veins in her neck bulging. "Do you think you can get away with this?! All of the Gods who were responsible for this and the traitor who let this happen—the force of light will strike all of you down! Just you wait! Their divine judgment will be painful!"

"How long do you think you can hide the Blessed Oracle from us?!" The Archangel screamed.

Her voice was raw, full of emotions—but mainly sadness.

It was tragic, everything about this was tragic, and she didn't have the power to stop it.

Not with five Gods working together to make this possible.

Then, a sweet chuckle echoed from the void—Loki was laughing at the Archangel.

"Do not worry about that," Loki answered from concealment.

He plucked on the strings of fate as the Sly God he was.

Another voice then echoed, this time, it wasn't Loki—but Sutekh instead.

"You're the one who would make sure our Blessed Oracle is hidden," He said with a mocking tone.

Upon hearing this, the Archangel paused and looked down—her eyes widening in realization.

"Me…? I'm the one who…"

As she came to the realization, her breath got stuck in her throat.

Seeing her expression darken, Loki burst into laughter—the look on the Archangel's face was simply too delicious to ignore. "Do you understand it now, Seraphiel? Oh, Archangel of Purity," He mocked, eyes in the shadow glinting with cruel amusement. "You could walk away and save the Blessed Oracle right this moment."

"Expose this situation to your shining legions, and let them deal with us," Loki's grin widened, wicked and knowing. "But… you may not like what happens to him once you leave, chosen and dear as he is to you. You now have a choice: are you going to stay silent and keep your purity, or are you willing to be impure to save him?"

"You…" Seraphiel's lips trembled. "You wicked bastards…"