Obil was mid-conversation with his wife when it hit—a collision of divine and demonic energy rippling across the air like a stormfront. He froze. He knew what that meant. His daughter's voice pulled him back.
"Papa!"
He rushed outside.
Above the house, the sky was tearing apart. Heaven and Hell were clashing. Angels. Demons. The air stank of ash and blood. Earth had become a battlefield.
He turned to his wife and daughter. "Inside. Now."
To the cultists: "Protect them with everything you have."
He stood alone for a moment, fists clenched. He had known Lucifer's involvement would pull attention. He knew Heaven wouldn't ignore it. But this a full-scale war on Earth—this was madness.
> "Damn it, Avile," he muttered. "You were supposed to protect this world. Not turn it into a wasteland."
He didn't delude himself. This was partly his fault. Breaking the seal, working with Azazil—he'd opened the gate. But this wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't the plan. Earth was slipping toward another end.
He shot into the air, masking his energy, and moved toward the battlefield.
The battlefield was rot incarnate.
A wasteland of withering soil, decaying trees, and air so foul it made the sky bleed black. Belphegor stood like a god of corruption, body pulsating with festering sores and mouths that whispered death.
The Archons stood their ground—Avile, Vale, Kael, Mael, Elyen—circling the monster.
They were struggling.
Even with their demonic strength, Belphegor's Rottenment wasn't just power—it was annihilation. Weapons crumbled before landing. The earth itself rejected them the closer they got. Each moment was survival.
Then the air bent, the clouds tore.
A pillar of golden light split the sky.
From its heart descended Obil, wings spread wide, a radiant being of divine force. He hovered above the battlefield, his expression unreadable.
Belphegor hisses as divine light burns through part of his rotted arm. He regenerates slowly, chuckling.
> "Obil… didn't we help you? And yet you choose them?"
Obil floats forward, gaze fixed, calm but burning.
> "You didn't help me. We used each other. Let's not rewrite history."
The Archons land nearby. Weapons up. Eyes locked on him.
Kael is first, disgust in his voice.
> "You've got some nerve showing up now."
Vale, furious:
> "What, did you think a flashy entrance would erase the blood on your hands?"
Obil, still watching Belphegor:
> "I didn't come here to be forgiven. I came because if you keep fighting like this, Earth won't survive the next hour."
Avile looks at him, tense.
> "Why now, Obil? We never know which side you were on."
Obil glances at him.
> "Because I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to fight Belphegor without your divine power. You should've gone to Uriel. You should've broken the seals."
Mael growls:
> "Don't you dare lecture us. You were the one who broke the world in the first place."
Obil answers without flinching.
> "And you were the ones who thought you could fix it while sealed and powerless."
Vale steps forward.
> "We tried to protect humanity without becoming monsters."
Obil:
> "Then die with your principles. But don't pretend that was the smart move."
Kael, bitterly:
> "You don't get to talk about smart moves. Tovar is dead because of you."
**Avile** raises a hand. His voice is tired. Firm.
> "Enough. I don't like this any more than you do. But right now, Obil is right. We can't kill Belphegor with demonic power alone."
Kael:
> "So we just trust him now?"
Avile:
> "No. We use him."
Obil:
> "I don't care if you trust me. I'm not here for you. I'm here to stop him."
Belphegor, smiling wide:
> "Touching. Truly. But you've wasted enough time."
He vanishes in a blur of rot and shadow.
Avile calls out, raising his blade:
> "Everyone! Stay sharp—we fight together. Whoever's side Obil is, he's the only one with divine power"
The air was thick with the stench of decay as Belphegor's Rottenment spread, his very presence causing the ground to rot and wither. His black, twisted energy swirled around him like a suffocating mist, and every strike he made left trails of destruction in its wake.
Avile, Elyen, Kael, Vale, and Mael stood firm, though their bodies were already showing signs of the battle's toll. Their demonic energy clashed against the overwhelming dark force Belphegor wielded.
The ground beneath them began to crack and rot, a sign of Belphegor's powerful Rottenment—his demonic aura causing everything it touched to decay and wither. His presence alone was a force of nature, and each movement he made rippled with dark energy.
Vale was the first to act, his demonic energy surging as he lunged forward, his blade crackling with power. The strike collided with Belphegor's aura, but the Rottenment spread quickly, corroding the edge of Vale's weapon. The blade's tip began to turn black and brittle as if it was crumbling from the inside out. Vale gritted his teeth and pulled back, dodging a swing of Belphegor's massive, blackened hand.
Kael, ever the strategist, followed up with a precise slash from the side, his blade aimed for Belphegor's torso. The demonic energy behind the strike seemed to penetrate the air, but Belphegor's laughter echoed through the battlefield as the blade simply stopped at the prince's rotting barrier, the steel rusting and snapping like dry twigs.
Mael, with his imposing presence, attempted a charging blow from behind, his weapon glowing with demonic might. His momentum was strong, but Belphegor spun, his clawed hands reaching out and tearing through Mael's armor with a sickening screech. Mael was sent flying back, crashing into the ground as the energy around him seemed to wither and fade.
Elyen, filled with a fury unlike the others, conjured her demonic energy into a blinding arc, slashing through the air toward Belphegor. The blade of pure demonic force cut through the air like lightning, but the prince of Hell was quicker, his own Rottenment surging forward to meet the strike. The clash was explosive, the air turning to smoke as the two forces collided. Elyen staggered, struggling to keep her footing, her blade now dull and cracking from the contact.
Avile, the calmest of the Archons, assessed the situation. His gaze sharpened as he saw the futility of their efforts. Belphegor wasn't just strong; he was overpowering them with every move. His demonic energy flared as he stepped forward, raising his hand to form a barrier of light to deflect the oncoming wave of decay. It slowed the advance of Belphegor's attack, but only for a moment.
Then, a sudden surge of divine power erupted from the distance. Obil arrived.
The battle froze for a heartbeat as Obil's divine energy shone in the air like a beacon, his power clashing against the spreading Rottenment. The ground around him cracked and glowed with holy light as Obil blasted Belphegor with a beam of pure divine energy, the light blinding in its intensity. For a moment, Rottenment recoiled, the decay halted by the sheer force of Obil's power.
Belphegor's smile never wavered. "I thought you would join us, Obil. After all, we've helped you before. But you still side with them?"
Obil's eyes narrowed, his voice cold. "It was a mutual gain. I never truly sided with Heaven or Hell."
Tension hung thick in the air as the Archons and Obil exchanged wary glances. Avile, seeing no other option, stepped forward.
"We've all suffered because of him," Avile said, his voice low. "But we need him for this moment. Please... for this one time, we fight as a team."
The Archons hesitated, but one by one, they reluctantly nodded. Obil's power was undeniable—they couldn't afford to fight alone.
Belphegor chuckled darkly. "Quite the family you have. But it won't matter. I will crush you all."
As the last words left his lips, Belphegor teleported, his form vanishing in a pulse of dark energy. The Archons and Obil immediately followed suit, engaging in a fierce battle.
Obil led the charge, his divine power radiating like a shield as he deflected Belphegor's decaying tendrils. His beam of light struck again, creating a brief opening for the others. Elyen and Vale, now back on their feet, rushed in together, their blades slashing in synchronized movements.
Kael weaved through the battle, striking with precision, while Mael charged in once more, his brute force taking Belphegor off balance for a split second. That brief opening was all they needed. Avile, with all his strength, launched an attack from the rear, his blade cutting through the air like a whip, aiming for Belphegor's exposed flank.
But the prince of Hell was quick. His Rottenment surged outward, turning the air to poison. The Archons recoiled, but Obil, empowered by divine light, stood firm. He blasted the Rottenment back with a wave of his hand, creating a protective shield around the group.
Belphegor roared in frustration, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You think you can stop me? You are nothing but insects to me."
But Obil's voice rang out above the chaos, determined. "Not today. This ends now."
The battle between light and decay,divine and demonic raged on.
The battlefield crackled with dark energy as Belphegor's aura of decay spread across the land. His Rottenment permeated the air, causing the ground to turn to dust and the trees to wither. The Archons and Obil stood ready, tension thick in the air.
Obil was the first to move, his divine power surging as he charged toward Belphegor, sending a blast of pure light that clashed against the decaying energy. The shockwave rippled through the ground, but Belphegor absorbed the light with a sneer, his power resisting the divine force.
Vale followed up quickly, his sword slashing toward Belphegor's rear. Elyen, with her speed, immediately darted in, her blade aiming for his front. Belphegor was forced to retreat, dodging Elyen's strike, but he couldn't avoid Vale's attack. The sword grazed his side, the demonic energy sharp and precise, but Belphegor's skin hardened, the wound healing almost instantly.
Before he could retaliate, Kael surged forward from the side, his strike aimed at Belphegor's shoulder. Mael followed, his massive form crashing into the prince, knocking him off balance. Obil didn't wait—he blasted a beam of divine light straight into the prince's chest, forcing him back.
Belphegor grunted, fury flashing in his eyes. "Fools… You think your petty attacks can harm me?"
But the Archons didn't back down. Avile, calm and collected, saw the opening. He stepped forward, his blade slicing through the air as he attacked with a calculated strike aimed at Belphegor's knees. Belphegor's reaction was swift—he countered with his Rottenment, sending a surge of decaying energy toward Avile, but the Archon deflected it just in time.
Vale seized the moment, his sword coming down in a powerful arc from above, but Belphegor twisted, his demonic energy forming a shield that cracked under Vale's pressure. The shield shattered, and for a moment, the Archons pushed forward, relentless in their assault.
Belphegor's laughter echoed, mocking them. "You're all nothing but insects, crawling toward your demise!"
Obil didn't let the taunt deter him. He raised his hand, creating a radiant shield of divine energy that absorbed the next wave of decay Belphegor unleashed. With a burst of power, he sent another beam of light toward Belphegor, aiming for his heart.
Belphegor grinned, sidestepping the attack. "Is that all you have, Obil? You can't win with light alone."
But Kael wasn't far behind. He dashed in, his blade glowing with demonic force as he slashed at Belphegor's exposed side. Belphegor howled in pain as Kael's strike made contact, though the wound healed quickly, the decay already setting in.
Mael charged, his fists swinging with overwhelming force, aiming to crush Belphegor's ribs. The demon prince staggered back, but only for a moment before retaliating with a vicious swipe of his claw. Elyen moved in at lightning speed, using her agility to cut across Belphegor's face, the blade barely scratching him but forcing him to recoil.
Avile shouted. "Now, together!"
With a synchronized move, Obil, Vale, Kael, and Mael coordinated their strikes, forcing Belphegor into a defensive position. The Archons attacked in perfect harmony, each blow weakening his defenses just enough for the next to land. Obil sent waves of divine energy to counter the decay in the air, clearing a path for the Archons to strike.
The tension was palpable. The Archons, though still uncertain of Obil's true loyalties, didn't waste time. They had no choice but to act.
Vale was the first to strike, lunging forward with his sword aimed at Belphegor's chest. But his blow was met with a dark, rotting energy that surged outward from the demon's body, forcing Vale to jump back as the air itself seemed to wither under Belphegor's power.
Kael wasn't far behind. He swung his blade low, aiming to cut through the demon's legs, but the ground around Belphegor began to decay as well. Elyen moved quickly, twisting through the air, her form a blur as she tried to find an opening. Mael used his strength to slam both fists down, sending a shockwave of energy through the earth toward Belphegor, hoping to keep the demon distracted.
But Belphegor was unfazed, the demon prince's grin wide as he let out a low chuckle. Rottenment poured from his body, spreading across the battlefield. The very air became thick with the stench of decay, and the ground around him began to rot away.
Avile stepped forward, his eyes scanning the situation. He saw how the Archons were struggling to break through the prince's defenses, their attacks constantly being thwarted by the overwhelming force of Rottenment. The Archons needed something more.
"Now," Avile whispered to the others. "We strike together."
Without another word, Vale attacked first, forcing Belphegor's attention to the front as he swung his sword. Kael, anticipating the move, struck from the side, aiming for the demon's flank, while Mael and Elyen moved to keep Belphegor off balance. Mael slammed his fists into the ground again, sending a shockwave of energy to throw Belphegor off guard, while Elyen used the distraction to strike from above.
At the same time, Avile weaved through the attacks, waiting for the perfect moment. He'd seen it now—the opening.
Obil, in the meantime, stood at the ready. His divine energy surged through him, glowing with intense light, while the rest of the Archons continued their assault. Vale made another strike, this time aimed directly at Belphegor's neck, forcing the demon prince to twist away. Kael seized the opportunity, slashing downward at Belphegor's legs.
The attacks were relentless. One after another, each Archon moved as if they were a single unit. Elyen sent a precise strike toward Belphegor's exposed ribs, while Mael used the force of his punches to try and keep the demon from retaliating.
Finally, at the exact moment they'd planned, Avile and Obil struck in unison. Avile used a swift movement to redirect Belphegor's focus, while Obil, his divine power glowing brightly, fired a beam of intense light directly at the demon. The beam hit Belphegor square in the chest, pushing him back, and for a moment, the demon's energy seemed to waver.
But it wasn't enough.
Belphegor grinned through the pain, the injuries already starting to heal. The damage didn't last long—his demonic power surged once again, healing the wounds and making him stronger. His laughter echoed as he gathered the Rottenment around him, the darkness spreading like a storm.
"All of this for nothing? Belphegor's voice rumbled through the air, his tone full of mockery.
But the Archons didn't stop. They couldn't afford to. Vale charged again, his sword raised high, while Kael pushed forward, more determined than ever. Mael, still focused on weakening Belphegor's defenses, sent another massive shockwave through the battlefield. Elyen darted through the chaos, searching for another opening, her strikes precise and quick.
As the battle raged on, the Archons pressed forward, their attacks carefully coordinated, their movements more fluid, more precise. Obil stayed close, his divine energy flowing as he directed his attacks to counteract Belphegor's power, providing the needed support to keep the demon on the defensive.
But Belphegor's strength wasn't fading. His Rottenment power surged with renewed fury, sending out waves of decaying energy that turned the air itself into a weapon. Each strike from the Archons felt like a struggle against a force that was impossible to defeat. The battlefield was littered with crumbling earth, the stench of decay thick in the air, but the Archons didn't falter.
The Archons were unleashing everything they had on Belphegor.
Avile, Kael, Mael, Elyen, and Vale struck with demonic power, while Obil bathed the battlefield in divine light. Elyen, the only female among them, wove her attacks with cold, precise fury. But Belphegor—he didn't even flinch.
He stood unmoved, letting the power wash over him like wind. Obil's divine radiance didn't scorch his flesh. Something had changed. Something ancient had awakened.
Bored now, Belphegor reached out and grabbed Avile by the face.
Then came the horror.
From Belphegor's body, thousands of limbs erupted—twisting, clawing, writhing. They seized the Archons like prey in a spider's web, pinning them with agonizing force. The limbs burned like acid, eating through flesh and soul alike.
Avile screamed as Belphegor bit into his shoulder, tearing away a chunk of flesh. Blood poured. Tears fell. He heard the others screaming, felt their agony in his bones. But they couldn't move. Couldn't help. Couldn't even care. The pain was too much.
"Mmm," Belphegor murmured, licking the blood from his lips. "Delicious."
Belphegor leaned in close, gripping Avile tighter.
Then, he shifted.
His skin peeled, melted, twisted—until what stood before Avile was no longer a man or a god, but something ancient, obscene, and wrong.
His face… was filth.
There were no eyes—only torn sockets weeping black ichor. A mouth stretched across his face, too wide, lined with jagged, fang-like teeth that moved on their own, twitching hungrily. The air stank of rotting divinity and burnt time.
And then the eyes opened.
They weren't where they should've been. One blinked from his forehead, another from his cheek, several nested within the folds of his neck. All of them red. No whites. No pupils. Just endless, glowing red.
Avile choked on breath.
Belphegor opened his maw wide—so wide it cracked the air—and moved to engulf Avile's head whole.
Avile closed his eyes.
In that moment, memories spilled into him. A golden sky. A forgotten name. The first song he ever heard. The warmth of someone's hand in his. A battle he'd never finished.
He didn't know if he would be reborn… if being consumed by Belphegor meant obliteration.
No reincarnation. No cycle. Just void.
He felt the heat of that gaping mouth on his face.
Then—
darkness.