A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

Celia's heart raced as she ran, the weight of Ronan's unconscious body heavy in her arms. Dante was close behind, his sword drawn, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. They had barely escaped the scene of the assassination, the echoes of that violence still ringing in their ears. Ronan was badly injured, and time was running out. They had to get him to safety.

The mansion of the Arcanveil family's doctor, Gerald, was their only hope.

As they reached the entrance, Celia kicked open the door, and they rushed inside. The familiar scent of antiseptic and herbs filled the air, but there was no time for pleasantries. Gerald, the family doctor, looked up from his work as the two burst in, their clothes soaked with the blood of their fallen enemies. His eyes widened at the sight of Ronan.

"Put him on the table," Gerald said in a voice that carried the weight of urgency.

Celia and Dante moved quickly, laying Ronan down on the nearby operating table, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Gerald moved to his side, his face tightening with worry as he examined the prince.

"Is he alive?" Gerald asked, though he already knew the answer. Celia nodded solemnly, but her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Yes… but he's in bad shape. The sword went through both of his hearts."

Gerald's face tightened with grim resolve as he turned toward Celia and Dante. "There's only one way to save him—a heart transplant. But not just any heart. He needs the heart of someone with divine blood, a perfect match." His eyes flickered with painful knowledge. "The only one with a heart capable of saving him is his father."

The room fell silent, the weight of Gerald's words crashing down on them. Celia's breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head fiercely.

"No, that's impossible!" Her voice trembled with desperation. "The sword… the sword pierced both of their hearts. His father's heart was destroyed."

Dante, who had been silent until now, clenched his fists. "Isn't there any other way? Anything?"

But Gerald's expression remained somber, his eyes full of regret. "No other way. Without a divine heart, Ronan won't survive much longer."

Celia's eyes burned with frustration and helplessness. "We can't ask him… He's done so much already."

"There's something else," Gerald said quietly, his voice tight with determination. "I've been working on something—a way to keep him alive until a solution could be found." He paused, and then gestured to a set of surgical robots lined up next to the table. "I can create an artificial heart—one capable of keeping him alive. But it's never been tested on someone like him."

Celia's breath caught in her throat. "Ronan… he's immortal. The heart... it wouldn't survive in him, would it?"

Gerald glanced at her, his expression grave. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. The only way to make it work is by limiting his power. It's the only way to ensure his body doesn't reject the artificial heart."

"What do you mean by limiting his power?" Dante asked.

Gerald didn't answer immediately. His fingers flew across the controls, calling up the blueprints for the artificial heart. "Ronan's body was designed to withstand incredible forces, to survive almost anything. But that includes the power he can wield. If I modify his body with limiters, restricting his abilities to 30%, it should help stabilize the heart. But it's dangerous—there's no guarantee it will work."

"Then we have no choice," Celia said, her voice steely with resolve. "Do what you have to do."

Gerald nodded, his face a mask of concentration as he activated the robotic arms. The artificial heart, a complex piece of technology, was inserted into Ronan's chest. Gerald worked quickly, his surgical robots operating with precision as he connected the heart to Ronan's blood vessels.

Celia watched, her heart heavy with fear, as Gerald fitted the limiters into Ronan's body, restricting his powers. The humming of the machines filled the room as tiny wires attached to his nervous system began to take effect. Ronan's breathing slowed, and his body stabilized—his power contained within the limitations imposed on him.

Once everything was in place, Gerald stepped back. His eyes met Celia's, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow. "He's stable for now. The heart is working... but he needs to rest."

Suddenly, a distant explosion rocked the mansion. Dust fell from the ceiling as the walls trembled.

"They've found us," Dante whispered, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword.

Celia and Dante exchanged a glance, and without a word, they moved to protect Ronan. The doors to the mansion were blown open, and shadows flooded the room. Figures in dark cloaks moved swiftly, weapons drawn.

"They're coming," Dante said, his voice low. "We can't hold them off for long."

Celia's fingers crackled with electricity as she summoned her power. The air around her buzzed with the force of her thunder, while Dante's sword glowed with an ethereal light. Together, they launched themselves at the intruders, cutting through the shadows with brutal precision.

They moved as one, their swords flashing, thunder crackling with every strike. One by one, the intruders fell, their bodies collapsing in silence. No witnesses were left alive.

But as the last one fell, Celia and Dante exchanged a look. They knew the real danger was not these assassins, but what lay beyond.

"Ronan isn't safe here anymore," Dante said, his voice heavy with the weight of truth. "He needs to leave the celestial realm. Our father… he's hell-bent on killing him."

As the battle subsided, Gerald, Celia, and Dante made their way to the portal, carrying Ronan in the tube. Dante's back was hunched under the weight of the advanced technology, but he moved with determined resolve.

They reached the portal, but just as they were about to step through, Dante noticed something behind them—a dark figure approaching.

"It's him," Dante said, his voice low and tense. "My father."

Gerald, who had been watching in shock, turned to see the figure of Dante's father emerge from the shadows. His presence was imposing, dark energy radiating from him. Dante's grip on his sword tightened.

"I'll hold him off," Dante said, turning to Celia and Gerald. "Go through the portal. I'll keep him from following."

But just as the battle seemed inevitable, a voice crackled in their earpieces. "This is the AI created by Ronan," the voice said, calm and authoritative. "I will make a public announcement at the throne, faking Ronan's death. You must make it seem like Ronan is dead, Dante. You need to act as though you've given up the struggle."

Dante hesitated; his sword still raised. "But... what about Ronan?"

"The announcement will buy you time. Stay back in the celestial realm. Celia and Gerald, you will go to Earth in disguise to judge Earth."

The voice was unwavering, the instructions clear. Dante gave one final glance to his friends before turning back to face his father.

"Let's do this," Dante whispered.

The portal opened, and the group landed in a barren, prehistoric world. The ground shook as they fell through the atmosphere, causing the extinction of the dinosaurs in a fiery blast. As the smoke cleared, Celia stood tall, holding the tube that contained Ronan with her psychic powers, with Gerald beside her.

They had made it to Earth.

Millions of years passed.

Ronan was still in a coma, and a massive underground facility was built in the hole of the North Pole using the help of Ronan's AI. The base was powered by a nuclear reactor, keeping Ronan alive in the tube that now rested at its core. The monitors flickered as alarms began to go off.

Gerald moved to the control panel, his face pale. "He's waking up. The artificial heart… it's holding, but we need to be ready."

Suddenly, Ronan's eyes snapped open, his voice a guttural roar of pain and confusion.

"WHY? WHY? WHY?"