The blackened skies still churned from the aftermath of Caelum's intervention. Thunder boomed like drums of judgment, though the storm had passed. Azire lay slumped against a jagged pillar of obsidian, blood dried on his brow, his mind spiraling. Daiki and Maya had pulled him away from the battlefield, and now, the group stood at the foot of the grand throne room of Leviathan—the ruler of the fallen angels, their father.
The great obsidian doors groaned open, revealing Leviathan seated upon his throne, draped in flowing black and violet robes that shimmered like galaxies. His golden eyes surveyed them sharply, burning like twin suns behind the veil of his hair.
"You're late," he said calmly, but there was weight behind his words. "And barely standing."
Daiki grunted, tossing his damaged gauntlet aside. "We didn't exactly have the home field advantage."
Leviathan's eyes lingered on Azire, who refused to meet his gaze. Maya stepped forward, fists clenched. "We tried, Father. Thal'Zir was—"
"Stronger than you," Leviathan interrupted, voice cold and unwavering. "Yes. And what of Caelum?"
Azire stiffened.
Daiki looked away. "A boy. Majestic, divine… terrifying. Like Azire, but flawless."
"A godling," Leviathan mused, standing slowly. The air thickened with each step he took. "Caelum is the youngest child of the Celestial Warden and the only living deity with full bloodlines of both starlight and judgment. He was not meant to interfere yet."
Azire finally spoke, voice hoarse, head still lowered. "He pitied me."
Leviathan stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Pity?"
Azire's fingers dug into his own arms. "He looked at me like I was a bug. Said I wasn't ready. Said I wasn't even interesting yet."
Silence. Only the hum of dark magic pulsed beneath the marble.
"You're not," Leviathan said at last, unflinching. "That is not insult. That is truth."
Maya stepped between them, defensive. "That's cruel."
"It's necessary," Leviathan replied. "Do you think I coddled you when you were children? Daiki —what did I do when you lost your first duel against the Seraphs?"
"You made me fight them again the next morning," Daiki muttered.
"And Maya—what happened when your illusions failed?"
"You sealed my vision for a week so I'd learn to fight without it," she whispered.
Leviathan turned his gaze back to Azire. "You are the Demon King reborn, boy. But title means nothing without power. That child Caelum was born with a god's might. You were born into struggle. That is the path of demons."
Azire finally lifted his eyes—burning, bloodshot, full of fury and shame.
Leviathan walked toward him, slowly lowering himself to one knee to be eye-level. "So. What will you do now, little king? Cry? Or will you rise and make them all regret ever pitying you?"
Azire's lips quivered. Then, through clenched teeth: "I'll make him kneel. I don't care if he's a god. I'll break him."
Leviathan's grin returned, sharp and predatory. "Good."
He stood and turned. "Rest. You'll need it. From now on, your training will be under me directly. No more play-fights. No more easy wins. You want to crush a god? Then I'll make you into something gods fear."
Maya and Daiki exchanged glances—equal parts pride and concern for what that meant.
And Azire… Azire sat in silence, the seed of vengeance blooming inside his chest like a cursed rose