EPISODE 3

After the Angelir troops departed to join the war at the Centraxis border, and at the same time, the special forces launched their assault on the outskirts of Tenebrius—causing the Devilor King, Axeluz, to erupt in fury—back at the borderlands near Nirvania, the Angelir gate guards were seen preparing to launch a long-distance attack using their protective light magic. Their target: a large sack that was launched from the southwest—undeniably from the Devilor forces.

The massive sack was black in color, but it seemed light in weight. It landed with a heavy thud several hundred meters away from the Angelir’s main gate.

Atop the high fortress walls stood one of the Divengers’ high officers, Novade Brillius, an Angelir entrusted by Dear herself to guard Nirvania’s borders for centuries. Like most Angelir, he had long hair—straight and pale violet—but his height exceeded the average of his kind, standing nearly two meters tall. Beyond his great magical prowess, as with all Divengers, he was granted a special gift by the Goddess of Time: the Vision of Truth—a sight so clear and far-reaching that he could see through and beyond any object he gazed upon.

Novade stepped forward slightly and reached for a medium-sized empty chalice beside him, channeling his magic into it. The chalice began to glow as it connected him to all gate sentries stationed at their posts—a long-established communication medium used among the Angelir since ancient times.

Novade: “Wait a moment—hold your fire!” [Novade commanded in a firm, resonant voice]

At once, all sentries lowered their hands, halting their spells. Novade closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, the gold had vanished—replaced by a pure white glow. Using his divine vision, he peered into the contents of the large sack the Devilors had thrown at them. His eyes widened slightly before his hand once again touched the rim of the glowing chalice.

Novade: “The sack is not dangerous. On the contrary, summon the Rescue Division and Mestrados couriers immediately. Her Majesty the Queen must see its contents herself.” [he said while clenching his fist tightly]

Not long after, the large sack was seen placed before the grand main gates of the Silver Palace. Standing beside it was Raphael, alongside a female Angelir with long, straight mint-green hair, accompanied by several members of the Rescue Division behind her. The woman was in the middle of a heated argument with Cherry.

Saveria: “What do you mean this sack cannot be shown to Her Majesty the Queen? We brought it here exactly so that Her Majesty could see what the Devilors have done!”

Saveria shouted at Cherry in a loud, impassioned tone, her green hair swaying with the passing breeze. Her eyelids parted, revealing eyes of soft almond brown. She was Saveria Colosar, one of the Divengers and commander of the Rescue Division. Her special abilities were healing magic and disease detection.

Cherry, on the other hand, glanced at the large sack lying between Saveria and the Rescue Division members before returning her gaze to Saveria.

Cherry: “With all due respect, Commander Colosar, I don’t mean to raise my voice—but the stench alone is enough to tell what’s inside that sack. Her Majesty the Queen is currently deep in her prayer chamber and must not be disturbed—”

Before Cherry could finish, her words were abruptly cut off by the sudden arrival of Dear, who emerged from the palace’s main door just as the guards swung it open. She glided gracefully on her white wings, landing softly as the heels of her silver shoes touched the ground.

Dear: “Did I not tell you to deliver all information to me directly, Cherry, whatever it concerns? I don’t recall permitting you to speak on my behalf.”

Dear spoke calmly, yet her arrival and her words made Cherry flinch. Cherry and all the Angelir present immediately bowed and made the customary hand gesture of respect before her.

Cherry: “My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to—”
Dear: “That’s enough.”

Dear’s eyes then turned toward the large black sack. The arch of her brow furrowed slightly as an unpleasant odor drifted from it.

Dear: “Saveria, what is this?” [She said while slowly approaching the sack]
Saveria: “I brought it here at Commander Novade’s request. He said Your Majesty should see its contents yourself—it’s a package from the Devilors.”

Dear raised one hand, channeling her light magic to tear open the thick fabric of the massive sack.
A horrifying sight spilled forth—piles of wivez, the severed wings of Angelir, their once-pure feathers now charred black and matted with silver blood. The gruesome mix splattered across the stone floor before the palace gates.

The members of the Rescue Division gasped, whispering frantically among themselves.
But Dear’s face remained still—until her eyes caught a rolled piece of black scroll, fastened to the torn edge of the sack.

She swiftly reached for it and unrolled it.

Written in streaks of Angelir blood were the words:
“Thank you, bitch.”

Dear’s jaw tightened.
It wasn’t merely rage over the slaughter of nearly three hundred elite soldiers she had sent to Tenebrius—it was the insult itself.
No one was allowed to call her that.

Cherry, who had known Dear for a long time, immediately noticed the subtle shift in her queen’s expression.

Cherry: “Your Majesty…”
Dear: “Where is the leader of the Devil tribe now?”

Her voice was calm—too calm—but each word carried a sharp, deliberate weight.
Cherry’s brow furrowed as she hesitated to answer.

Cherry: “He… uh—”

Before she could continue, a new voice broke the tense silence.
A female Angelir who had just arrived behind the Rescue Division stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention.

Kiera: “According to the latest report from Commander Paratis of the Special Forces Division, the Devilor King is moving toward the Centraxis border to join the battle, my Queen.”

Kiera Vinessity—another Divenger, and the head of the Communications Division.
Her deep violet eyes gleamed under her long, French-braided navy-blue hair that cascaded down to her waist.
Her head, ears, neck, arms, and legs were adorned with jewelry and ornaments—a typical sight, for Kiera was known for her ever-changing, lavish style.
Her special gift was enhanced hearing, capable of detecting the faintest sounds across vast distances.

After delivering her report, the members of the Rescue Division instinctively stepped aside, giving her a clear path.
Kiera walked forward gracefully and stopped before Dear, bowing in respect.

Kiera: “Forgive me for the late report, Your Majesty. We only received the information a few minutes ago.”
Dear: “Paratis? He’s still alive?”
Kiera: “Yes, Your Majesty. He’s the only one who survived the Devilor King’s flames. He’s currently stationed at Hell Heaven Canyon, near the Tenebrius border. He awaits your next command.”
Dear: “What of the eight hundred Angelir soldiers in Centraxis?”
Kiera: “So far, though we’ve received reports of over two hundred casualties, we still hold the advantage over the remaining enemy forces, Your Majesty.”

Dear fell silent for a moment, her expression unreadable—deep in thought.

Cherry: “What are your orders, Your Majesty?”

Dear gave a faint smirk.

Dear: “Paratis, I’ll contact him myself. In the meantime, prepare additional troops to support those still fighting in Centraxis. I’ll be departing with them.”

All the Angelir bowed deeply and voiced their agreement before dispersing to carry out their respective duties.

Meanwhile, within the woodlands bordering the barren plains of Centraxis, Axeluz stood among nine Devilor warriors of the Parze, the elite special forces, descending from the sky on their dark wings before landing amidst the trees.

From their vantage point, they could see the chaotic battlefield where soldiers from the four races still clashed violently.
Axeluz’s blood seemed to surge with excitement—his crimson eyes trembled with delight as he inhaled the scent of scorched earth and blood that lingered even miles away.

His gaze drifted over the warring factions until it fixed upon a group of Angelir.
A crooked grin formed on his lips as he recalled the message he left for the Angelir Queen, and the memory of incinerating the entire Angelir battalion that had dared to attack his kingdom’s borders.

He then gave a chilling order — commanding his Devilor soldiers to break off their own wings, then burn the severed limbs into ash, a grotesque ritual of loyalty and defiance.

Axeluz: “The winged creatures who call themselves angelic descendants have been humiliated. Who told them they could challenge the Strongest with only three hundred soldiers? And to think—they dared to order an assault on our sacred insignia? Heh. It seems Venos has finally lost her mind.”

Aveliz: “You’re right, my King. The Venos Kingdom of the Angelir has always been difficult to conquer due to their remarkable intelligence, equal to that of the Betagir. But your victory proves that it was nothing more than a myth.”

Axeluz’s cold eyes turned toward the Devilor who had just spoken.
The man had short hair and a trimmed beard along his jawline.

Axeluz: “Yes, that’s true. But I never acknowledged their so-called intelligence, did I? And by the way… who are you? Where’s the one who’s usually by my side?”

Aveliz: “Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, my King. I am Aveliz Lodos, the newly appointed High Commander. As for your second question, I believe the man who once stood beside you—Alexis Bardos, the former Commander—you killed him around forty-five minutes ago in the castle before we departed for Centraxis.”

Axeluz: “Ah~ that one. I remember now. So, you’re his replacement? Even so, you’re already irritating me. Never speak unless I command you. Understood?”

Aveliz: “Yes, my King—”

ZRASS!

Aveliz Lodos was instantly beheaded, his neck cleaved cleanly by Axeluz’s bare hand. The cut was so perfect that no blood sprayed out immediately before his body finally collapsed to the ground.

Axeluz: “I told you not to speak unless I said so.” [he flicked his hand dismissively]

The remaining Devilor soldiers could only stand in stunned silence at what had just happened. Axeluz then lazily pointed toward one of them.

Axeluz: “Hey, you! You’re the new commander now.”

The Devilor he pointed to, flinched, startled by the sudden order. The chosen one happened to be thinner than the others.

Devilor: “E–eh? But, my lord…” [he lowered his head]

Axeluz glared at him sharply. For a brief moment, a murderous aura radiated from him—strong enough that everyone present instantly understood: if they dared utter even a single unnecessary word, they’d die. The thin Devilor bowed his head even lower, silently showing his understanding.

Axeluz: “Now then… It’s time to decide who we’ll attack first.” [he muttered, his gaze fixed again toward the barren plains]

In terms of sheer force and numbers, the Commador had the advantage, while Betagir were superior in precision and technology. Since Axeluz had already exacted revenge on the Angelir through the “gift” he had sent, he placed them as the last priority. His focus now turned to the Betagir and Commador.

Axeluz: “Heh. Only a fool would try to strike the Betagir without preparation. The Commador, however… they need a reminder of what they really are. Just a bunch of meatspawns who take pride in their labor. Useless, pathetic creatures. I despise the weak.”

It didn’t take long before a cruel idea formed in his mind.

Axeluz: “Hey, Commander — wasn’t the latest intel saying the Commador leader himself is on the battlefield?”

But when Axeluz finished his question, the thin Devilor who had been appointed as the replacement commander remained completely silent. Axeluz furrowed his brow, then let out a sharp exhale — realizing the Devilor wasn’t answering because he hadn’t been explicitly ordered to speak yet.

Axeluz: “Answer me, bastard!”
Devilor: “Forgive me, my King — yes, that’s correct.”

Axeluz then outlined his next plan to the new commander and his remaining soldiers—a stealthy infiltration. They would disguise themselves as Commador troops, join their ranks in battle, and then, according to Axeluz’s scheme, slaughter them one by one from within.

It was common knowledge among all races that the Angelir and Devilor possessed two distinct forms.
The first was their everyday form, in which they could hide their horns, wings, and tails, appearing indistinguishable from ordinary people.
The second was their true form, when those features were revealed.

Although each race had different rules about when they were allowed—or required—to conceal their traits, it was known that only Angelir and Devilor with high levels of magical energy could successfully suppress their wings and horns at will.

This particular fact was something Axeluz intended to exploit for his plan.

Axeluz: “So, do you all understand?”

Once again, the replacement commander and the troops remained completely silent.

Axeluz: “Hah, this is starting to piss me off. ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!”
All Devilors: “Understood, my King!”

Among those who responded, one young Devilor hesitated before nervously voicing his own thoughts.

Devilor: “B-but, with only nine of us… Isn’t that too risky, my King? We still have to kill nine Commador soldiers first to take their robes and disguise ourselves. Besides, the Devilor forces fighting in central Centraxis are already at a disadvantage. I think perhaps we should—”

Axeluz: “Who the hell do you think you are, huh?”

The young Devilor froze mid-sentence, as if suddenly realizing the weight of his own words. His eyes went wide in shock, horrified that he had spoken so carelessly. Even the replacement commander and the others glanced at him, silently asking why he had said something so foolish.

Axeluz: “So what—are you trying to tell me you doubt my strategy?”
Devilor: [whispering] “Why… why did I even say that out loud?”
  “N-no, that’s not what I meant, my King—”

Axeluz: “Oh? Then you’re complaining about the number, is that it? Hah~ fine. I don’t mind reducing it by one. Eight’s a nice number anyway.”
[He glared sharply at the young Devilor.]

The young Devilor flinched and immediately bowed low, trembling.

Devilor: “F-forgive me, my King. I was out of line.”
Axeluz: “Ugh, how many times have I heard that damn word ‘forgive’ today?” [he muttered irritably] “Hey, you… whoever you are…”

The young Devilor lowered his head even further, his hands and legs shaking as Axeluz slowly began to walk toward him.

Axeluz: “...I’m the main character here. I’m not some side character like you. And because I’m the main one, I don’t make stupid plans that’ll risk my own life. Why nine, not a hundred or two hundred? You know why? Answer me!”
Devilor: “N-no, my King.”
Axeluz: “Because it’s called infiltration. The more people there are, the harder the plan becomes. The more idiots like you we have, the more likely the whole thing fails. The more you question me, the less time we have to actually execute the damn plan. And the more I waste my breath explaining this nonsense to you, the angrier I get. So tell me now… do you want to stay stupid, or be smart? Answer!” [snaps angrily]
Devilor: “I-I want to be smart, my King.”
Axeluz: [smirks coldly before his expression hardens again] “Don’t let it happen again.”

The young Devilor nodded quickly. Axeluz turned and began walking back to his position, but stopped when his foot pressed against something. Annoyed, he glanced down—and saw the severed head of Aveliz, the former high commander he had decapitated earlier. With a deep, irritated exhale, Axeluz kicked the head aside, sending it rolling away into the brush.

Axeluz: “Now then… for the nine of you behind me—”

He suddenly froze mid-sentence, as if realizing something. Slowly, he turned back toward the group, his sharp eyes scanning them one by one, counting carefully.

Axeluz: “Ah… looks like there’s one among you who doesn’t belong here.” [muttering] “I command you all to reveal your wings, horns, and tails—now!”

At his loud order, every Devilor immediately shifted into their true forms—except for one standing in the far back. Before that person could even react, Axeluz shot forward with blinding speed, seizing the figure by the throat and slamming them hard against a thick tree trunk.

???: “Ughh—hhgh!”

Axeluz lifted the stranger with one hand, his fingers clamped tightly around their neck, feet dangling above the ground. The figure had short golden hair and a tall, slender build. Their skin was pale and smooth, far too bright and unblemished for a Devilor. Axeluz didn’t need to ask where this intruder came from.

Axeluz: “You filthy Angelir. You even cut off that long, proud hair of yours just to sneak into my ranks? Who sent you? Venos?”

The Angelir was none other than Paratis Strata—one of the Divengers, the Head of the Angelir Special Division, and the very one sent by Dear to secretly shadow Axeluz on a covert mission. His power was the ability to reveal the core truth within someone’s mind.

Paratis: “Y-you’ll... never... ughh... defeat the Queen. You’re no king... You’re just... a demon of destruction...”

He strained the words through clenched teeth, writhing in his grip as his breath grew ragged. Axeluz’s hand tightened even further, his claws digging into his neck until drops of silver blood trickled from his veins.

Axeluz: “Heh, of course you all worship that whore. Done talking? Ready to die?”

Axeluz tightened his grip until a sharp crack echoed from Paratis’s neck. The gray-eyed Angelir choked out a strained gasp, fighting through the pain as he pressed his right hand against Axeluz’s upper abdomen.

Paratis: “By the Goddess of Time… by Queen Venos—!”

Reacting instantly, Axeluz focused his fiery magic into his left hand, slicing off Paratis’s right arm before igniting his head in flames. He released his throat as his body went limp. For a brief second, Axeluz felt a burning twitch where he had touched him—a strange, searing sensation deep within, a blend of rage and disgust boiling together.

Repulsed by the idea that his hand had touched him, he tore open his black leather vest, revealing his broad chest and sculpted abs beneath. Droplets of silver blood stained his hands and face.

Without sparing another glance, Axeluz turned and strode away, the sound of crackling flames consuming Paratis’s body behind him. The replacement commander and the eight remaining Devilors quickly stepped aside, bowing their heads in reverence.

Axeluz: “Out of all of you, was I the only one who noticed that damned spy?”

The Devilors kept their heads down, silent. Axeluz ran a hand roughly through his hair, clearly irritated.

Axeluz: “Tch. Whatever. If you still want to live, follow me. There are nine Commador left for us to hunt.”

With that cold order, Axeluz shot forward in a flash, followed closely by his eight subordinates, heading westward toward Centraxis to begin their infiltration plan.

From the spot where Axeluz and his elite soldiers had departed, the charred body of Paratis twitched faintly—one final movement before falling still forever.

Unbeknownst to them, in his final moment, Paratis had managed to send a telepathic signal to the last Angelir he was connected with—Dear herself.

Far away, on the northwestern side of Centraxis, Dear, accompanied by Cherry and the three hundred Angelir troops she had brought from the capital, had just arrived. At that exact moment, Dear received Paratis’s last signal and dying message.

But instead of sorrow, her lips curved slowly, deliberately—into a wide, haunting smile.