Ascension of the Dark Seraph

Malric halted in his tracks.

He looked up at the cathedral ahead—monolithic, brooding, and somehow detached from the very fabric of the world. It was not simply cast in shadow; it created shadow. The moonlight dared not touch its icy stone, and the wind curved around it, as though the air itself feared to graze its walls.

It stood in defiance of natural order, cloaked in a darkness that smoldered, writhed like a fire of ash.

To anyone else, it might have seemed abandoned and old, exuding an unsettling chill.

But Malric was no ordinary man.

The moment he stopped and laid eyes upon it properly, his breath hitched.

The sin—it wasn't just present; it pulsed.

It poured from the cathedral in waves, thick and oppressive, smearing the air like ink in water.

As a Hell Demon Hybrid, his demonic senses could sense things that couldn't normally be sensed. Sin was his fuel, his blood, his gift—and yet this… this was something else. He saw it. Not metaphorically, but truly saw it.

Twisting tendrils of pride, cruelty, deceit—every flavor of sheer depravity—clung to the cathedral like festering roots. It was drenched in it. Black vapors curled and slithered across its surface, hissing at him as if telling him that despite everything he had done, he wasn't worthy of this cathedral.

It was reserved for something deeper. Darker.

Malric staggered a step back, his pupils dilating.

"What is this? I've never been overwhelmed like this before…"

His vision blurred—the weight of the sin was so suffocating, so dense, that it wrapped around his eyes like black cloth. Malric blinked rapidly, but the sensation didn't leave. It wasn't blindness—it was more like overload.

Every nerve in his body lit up, not in agony, but in awe.

He had walked through burning villages.

He had waded through battlefields thick with blood and cruelty.

But none quite like this.

This cathedral made those memories feel… innocent.

As if it were the palace of Hell's true sovereign—the Devil's own abode, anchored in the mortal realm.

This cathedral, whatever it was, wasn't sacred.

It was a monument to damnation.

"Malric! What are you doing? She's cornered!"

Andrea and Leo blitzed past him and barged into the cathedral without a pause.

Both of them watched as Malric landed a solid blow on the flame saintess, a rare opening he should've exploited with a relentless barrage. But instead, he hesitated. Once inside the cathedral, the two split to either side, crashing through the pews in their haste, and came to a stop on opposite sides of Morriva.

She already recovered and was now standing at the center with cold poise.

Snapping out of his trance, Malric gritted his teeth.

"I'm a Hell Demon Hybrid, what the fuck am I hesitating for?"

Malric dragged his fiery sword into the cathedral and stopped several paces away from Morriva.

He raised the sword and pointed it at Morriva.

"I'll make you repay what you did to my beautiful face—tenfold, you bitch of a saintess," He grinned, dragging his long tongue across the blade as if it weren't searing with fire. "I'll keep you alive until the skylarks sing… their sweet little song will make the perfect soundtrack for your death."

"Avoid cursing," Morriva stared at Malric with calmness. "This is a sacred place."

Malric cackled like a maniac.

"Still acting composed?! Good, make this more interesting! I'll enjoy breaking you bit by bit!"

In response, Morriva only sneered and burned her hands with emerald flames.

On the side, Andrea frowned warily.

'She's cornered… Nowhere to go. She had already clashed against us earlier, and she knew that fighting the three of us together would not end well for her. It will only end with her defeat. So why? Why is she still calm…? Is this cathedral a trap?'

Andrea blinked, activating her vampiric eyes to look around the cathedral.

Perhaps the Blood Priests are hidden somewhere here, ready to make an ambush.

But there was nothing.

She couldn't find anyone around.

As someone who was about to reach the four-star Chrysalis rank, she was the strongest in the group.

And since Morriva isn't stronger than her, nobody on her side should be able to hide from her eyes.

Even then, the fact that Morriva was still composed worries her.

It brought this sense of foreboding.

'Let's get this over quickly.' Andrea turned to the others. "Attack!"

Deciding that staying here for too long would be leaving them exposed—for potential ambush, Andrea let out a battle cry and led the charge. She rolled forward, drew her revolver, and pointed it at Morriva before loosely firing three bullets.

Bang!

Morriva's eyes glowed emerald.

She tapped the ground with her foot lightly, summoning a wall of fire that blocked the bullets.

However, during the time it takes for her to do that, Leo and Malric were already on her.

Swoosh!

With a sharp hiss of flame, Morriva burst upward, emerald fire erupting beneath her feet.

She narrowly avoided the twin arcs of steel aimed to leave her in half.

The sword sliced through empty air, and the battle axe crashed into the ground with a violent spark.

Too slow.

Morriva hovered above, suspended by swirling emerald energy that danced like a storm beneath her.

Keeping her eyes on them, the emerald flame around her began to swirl and bloom, turning into regal fabric, a living mantle of flame—that curled around her shoulders with queenly defiance. Her mastery over her flames has reached a new level with her constant usage, and it shows.

Every time Andrea raised her gun, the fiery cloak shifted on its own, sweeping across Morriva's body.

Shot after shot rang out, but each bullet sizzled uselessly against the fire, unable to pierce through.

Then, Morriva's gaze snapped to Leo.

Her hands raised, fingers unfurled like blooming flowers, then came the torrent of flames.

A stream of emerald fire roared from her palms, spiraling straight toward him.

But Leo was ready.

"Raargh!"

Bam!

He slammed his fist into the ground, calling on his attribute power to summon a jagged wall of stone.

The emerald flames crashed against it with a blinding flash of heat and light, but even though the outer layer of the wall of rock began to melt and hiss under the assault, Leo remained untouched behind it—steadfast and unharmed.

Meanwhile, Malric was on the move.

Sword in a reverse grip, he darted in a tight circle around her like a predator tracing the edge of its kill.

He moved low, quick, and silently.

No wasted motion and no strike yet made.

He was watching, waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

Then, Leo leaped upward from behind his wall.

Ether flared around his battle axe, causing it to glow brightly with yellowish fervor.

"Hrgh!!"

With a low grunt, he clasped the battleaxe with both hands and hurled it toward Morriva with force.

Swoosh!

Morriva's eyes narrowed, and she snapped her hands forward, fire racing to meet the axe, but it wasn't enough. The emerald blaze shattered on impact, cut through, unable to stop the axe's momentum, and she had no choice but to twist mid-air, barely dodging as the axe roared past her.

That was the opening Malric needed.

He lunged.

Like a predator hungry for blood, he moved with precision.

His sword flashed in a wide arc, slamming into Morriva's side before the mantle could protect her.

It landed with power.

Crash!

The blow sent her crashing back down, slamming against the stone floor before she bounced, skidding across the ground. Andrea fired multiple bullets, but the mantle moved quickly to protect her. But she was still exposed from in front.

Malric dropped after her, aiming a second slash mid-fall, blade descending like judgment.

"I'll send you to Hell!"

Clang!

Morriva moved out of the way and blasted Malric away with a torrent of fire.

Hissing in pain, Malric snarled and gave chase, laughing like a demon unbound.

It was more interesting if she struggled.

Then, he stopped.

His grin faltered as something caught his eye—spinning, fast, and too close.

The battle axe.

In the split second Morriva had dodged, she had summoned her flames, pulled the embedded axe from the ceiling, and hurled it straight at Malric's back. He turned too late. The weapon, wreathed in fire not his own, screamed toward him with lethal grace.

"Arghkk!"

Malric growled as the battle axe hacked his back.

But Morriva didn't stop there.

She tapped the ground with her foot, creating a circle of fire underneath Leo.

In that moment, Leo was too focused on Malric that he couldn't react in time.

Swoosh!

Flames exploded from beneath him, slamming him onto the ceiling.

As he fell back down again, Morriva hurled a pew at him with a kick.

But at that exact moment, the air cracked—sharp and sudden.

A blood bullet tore through her flaming mantle, drilled into her shoulder, and exploded, hurling her to the side in a burst of smoke and flame. A second shot struck the pew, splintering it into shrapnel just as Andrea slid in, catching the falling Leo before he hit the ground.

In the next breath, they were at a standstill.

Andrea supported Leo, who was panting heavily and in pain.

On the side, Malric pulled out the battle axe and let it fall with a heavy, steely sound.

And Morriva, groaning in pain as she leaned against the altar, holding onto her bleeding shoulder.

Even though she retaliated hard, she was undoubtedly on the losing side.

Malric, blood-thirsty from having the battle axe thrown at him—wanted to attack again like a rabid dog unchained. His skin began to peel more, revealing more of the charcoal-black flesh beneath. Demonic, cracked, and burning.

His fire flared brighter, wilder, as the transformation deepened and his humanity burned away.

But it was at that moment, when he was truly demonic, that he stopped.

He sensed something.

Malric looked at his flames and frowned when he noticed them sway forward.

Almost as if there was a magnet pulling on them.

It was only then that he noticed something, someone… a man in front of the altar.

Both his knees were laid on the prie dieu, and both of his hands clasped in prayer.

Malric stared at the man, and he suddenly felt a shortness in his breath.

A crushing pressure settled over him, and every fiber of his demonic being screamed for him to run, but he stood frozen, uncertain. It was the first time he'd ever felt such a primal warning, and he didn't yet understand what his own instincts were trying to tell him.

All he could feel was a rising heaviness settling on his chest.

"Each one of you worshipped the Blood God, but you barged into His palace and ransacked everything."

At that moment, the man slowly lowered his hands—his prayer, whatever it was, now complete.

Then, he turned to look at Malric—a disturbing smile tugging the corners of his lips.

"But worry not, I apologized to Him for you. And also, for what I'm about to do next…"