Heaven's Descent
Descent. Upper Heavens. Before the descent passage.
An endless white ceiling rippled like waves. Countless hymns overlapped in discordant tones, finally syncing into a single rhythm. That was the moment Gabriel opened his eyes.
A protective authority laced with blue light and an unfathomable authority of water pooled quietly around him.
"Prayer lines aligned. Descent passage, no anomalies."
The lieutenant angel standing beside him reported cautiously.
"No traces of Satan's interference within measurable range. Distortion signals are below tolerance levels."
Another angel unfurled the prayer line manifest.
"Spearhead Vanguard, Guardian Veil Corps, Radiant Encirclement, and Hymn Execution Squad—all standing by."
Gabriel gave the slightest nod.
"This passage won't be obstructed."
His voice was soft and measured, yet carried an unyielding firmness that brooked no deviation.
"Yes, Lord Gabriel."
The lieutenant angel bowed deeper.
"This descent will proceed in the tactical order we designed."
At that moment, the holy chalice was brought forth. A vessel entwining white light and blue waves. Gabriel received it with both hands. The light and water within pulsed once like a heartbeat, then settled into stillness.
A superior angel beside him asked carefully.
"For the first holy chalice activation... shall we set it now?"
"Activating it immediately would greatly reduce casualties in the vanguard and veil corps."
Gabriel lowered his gaze briefly, then lifted it toward the passage. Below the descent passage—the path soon to open toward Hell—the prayer lines meshed evenly.
"You said there's no sign of Satan's interference."
"Yes. No signs in the passage, sanctum, or prayer flows so far."
Gabriel's finger lightly brushed the side of the chalice. The waves inside rippled faintly, then stilled.
"The holy chalice is a power that blankets one battlefield and vanishes upon use."
His voice remained soft, but the prayer angels held their breath.
"If Satan isn't interfering in the descent, the first wave is sufficient without it."
He returned the chalice to the attendant angel at the altar.
"Hold the first chalice in reserve. Until it's truly needed on the battlefield before the fortress."
The angel receiving it bowed deeply.
"As you command."
Gabriel turned toward the descent passage.
"The Spearhead Vanguard touches ground first."
"Guardian Veil Corps follows. Radiant Encirclement and Hymn Execution Squad deploy sequentially once the sanctum is fully established."
The prayer line attendant confirmed the records once more.
"Finally, the Sanctum Guardians and..."
Gabriel continued quietly.
"I'll descend after all formations are in place."
"I'll observe from above whether the deployed lines hold, and who endures how far."
He gazed at the descent passage once more.
"First battlefield: the valley before the fortress. Establish the sanctum, then raise shields and spears."
The angels bowed in unison.
Light bloomed below the descent passage. The hymn choir's song rose another octave.
Gabriel drew one final breath.
"Spearhead Vanguard, commence descent."
With those words, pillars of light surged down the passage toward Hell.
The holy chalice waited silently beside the altar for the next scene.
Nova Fortress basement, tactical room.
Thin streams of light on the prayer line map began trembling thicker than before. Navriel closed her eyes, then opened them. The flow of prayer lines reflected in her blue irises.
"The descent has begun."
Her voice was quiet, yet sharper than ever.
"Heaven's prayer lines have fully meshed with the descent passage."
Nas paused his scribbling on the paper.
"Satan's interference?"
Navriel took a measured breath.
"No traces of Satan so far."
She pointed to a spot on the map. A valley far from Nova. The site now called the decoy fortress.
"The first sanctum currents are converging there."
Nas muttered briefly.
"As planned, the first sanctum and first wave should end entirely at the decoy fortress..."
He unfurled another sheet.
"Current decoy fortress forces."
Nas's eyes scanned the numbers swiftly.
"Total troops: about 2,800. High-rank: Raksha and Balrag."
"Mid-rank around 300. Rest low-rank."
He noted Nova's figures on the next line below.
"Main base Nova: high-rank 20."
"Mid-rank about 3,000, rest low-rank."
"Decoy fortress is the first to take the hit and fall."
"Nova holds after."
Navriel added quietly.
"Judging by the descent prayer line angles and sanctum battery placements, Heaven sees the decoy fortress as Hell's main base."
Nas pressed his lips together briefly.
"Good. They're falling for it exactly as we wanted."
Navriel checked the prayer line tremors once more.
"First defeat at the decoy fortress."
"As long as we prevent total annihilation at Nova, today goes according to calculations."
Nas nodded lightly.
"That'll do."
Decoy fortress, inner courtyard beyond the gates.
Demons packed the narrow fortress yard densely. The clank of armor and weapon checks mingled clumsily, then gradually quieted.
Raksha stood on a low stone platform inside the gates. To his right, one step back, El stood with arms crossed.
Armor pieced together forcibly in Nova style from Hell's finest materials. White bone, black metal scraps, and remnants of Bell's domain formed concise plate that covered Raksha's body. A single dagger hung at his waist.
The black-handled dagger he'd used since first falling into Hell.
El's armor was a bit rougher than Raksha's, but the blood- and ash-stained spots were neatly cleaned.
Raksha raised a hand once. The courtyard noise died instantly.
"Listen up."
His voice wasn't loud enough to carry far, but in the silent yard, not a word was missed.
"The ones coming down from Heaven aren't here to kill Hell. They're here to kill this fortress."
He glanced up at the wall before him. A wall whose collapse time he'd already calculated.
"This place was meant to be abandoned from the start."
For a moment, some shoulders trembled. Raksha ignored the reaction.
"But who dies and who lives to stand at the next fortress—that's decided by us, not Heaven."
Breaths hitched in spots across the yard.
"The longer you hold here, the fewer die at Nova."
Raksha's eyes swept the demons. Low-rank, mid-rank, bodies still fresh without proper scars.
"Your role today isn't beating Heaven."
"It's enduring, cutting, creating space to flee."
His words dropped like stones.
"Survive to climb Nova's walls again, and the death toll here shrinks by that much."
Raksha spoke a notch lower.
"So."
"Endure as long as you can, flee as far as you can."
"Just don't let the whole line snuff out at once."
Someone exhaled sharply.
"Live."
Raksha said finally.
"Not until this fortress falls."
"Until you can stand again atop Nova's walls."
Those words weren't comfort or promise. Just the raw conditions of today's battlefield, read aloud. That's why they sank deeper, lodging in some hearts.
Raksha stepped down from the platform.
"El."
"Yeah."
El uncrossed her arms and stepped forward.
Raksha's eyes flicked briefly to the wall top. A black cloak fluttered in the wind.
"Among those we need to save here."
"Zan comes first."
El's brow twitched faintly.
"If Zan dies here, Nova's veil crumbles too."
Raksha stated it less as explanation, more as an immutable battlefield fact.
"Your spot today isn't by my side."
El's lip curled slightly.
"You're hogging all the fun spots again."
Raksha's expression didn't change.
"Where Zan stands is today's battlefield core."
"Guard it."
El drew a breath.
"What if you're about to die?"
"Then Zan draws the line herself."
Raksha replied.
"You just make sure she can."
"Save Zan no matter what."
El's eyes wavered for a split second, then hardened.
"......Got it."
She rolled her shoulders once, broadly.
"One guy I need to protect today."
Her lips twisted faintly.
"Just save Zan, right."
Raksha nodded curtly.
El said no more, circling the yard's edge toward the wall. Her footsteps ascending the stairs faded quietly.
Atop the wall, Zan's black cloak fluttered once in the wind.
"Zan."
Raksha called without looking toward the wall.
The black cloak's hem fluttered atop the wall.
"Draw the line over the decoy fortress. Thicker, denser than Nova's."
Zan replied briefly.
"Yes."
"Balrag."
A heavy presence stirred before the gates.
Two massive demons entered through the gates. One, a demon who saw the ground before the walls. The other, who took hits in place of the crumbling.
Balrag spoke.
"I'll block as much as I can. This ground's mine to hold."
Beside him, Gart flexed his arm once. Thick arms and shoulders creaked within the armor.
"Anything embedding in the gates, I'll take first."
"You'll know how long the gates hold before the gates do."
Raksha said.
"Don't think of collapsing."
Balrag twisted his lip once.
"Won't even in death."
Gart added curtly.
"If the gates shatter first, I'll stand in."
Raksha looked at them once, then nodded quietly.
The sky thundered.
Zan atop the decoy fortress wall sensed it first. The prayer lines' tremor spiked a full tone.
"They're coming..."
Zan muttered under her breath.
With those words, a thick pillar of light stabbed into the valley's center toward the ground.
Kwaaaaaang─────!
The light pillar stood briefly, then spilled outward like poured water. Light branched along the slopes, before the gates, beneath the walls, enveloping everything at once.
A hemispherical sanctum dome formed over the entire decoy fortress.
The air grew heavy. Breathing felt like water pooling in the mouth.
The demons' bodies tensed instinctively.
Zan's red veil clashed with the sanctum, creaking invisibly.
Within the sanctum, Heaven's power strengthened; the demons' powers pressed heavier.
But they weren't erased.
Balrag's ground breathed beneath the sanctum.
Gart's body rooted heavily before the gates.
Atop the wall, red power writhed quietly in El's palm beside Zan.
In the inner courtyard, Raksha gripped and released his dagger.
"All hands, battle ready."
He said.
"Today, we live to flee."
Within the sanctum dome, between light and water, angels' shadows descended in ranks.
Raksha took one step toward the gates.
The dagger in his hand shifted angle quietly.
"They're here."
Not persuasion, not self-assurance. Just confirming the fact.
Somewhere in the inner courtyard, fangs ground with stiff breath, scraping like friction.