Hell’s 9

Bealzibub's voice carried a bitter edge as he stood before the gathering of high-ranked demons. "This is rather disappointing," he said, arms folded as the glow of the infernal fire lit the chamber in flickering hues of red. "All second-ranked demons, defeated… by some lowly traitors."

Asmodeus hissed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I never thought that would be possible. Even with Damon at their side, I assumed they'd be overpowered. But they won."

Satanus slammed his clawed fist against the stone table. "It's quite a shame. Besides Damon, Sindel, and Syril, the rest of them were garbage—and yet… we still lost."

Asmodeus scowled. "The power gained by the Divine… it changed everything. They managed to beat our second ranks. And that changes the war."

Grumbling and frustration filled the chamber. Every high-ranked demon voiced their outrage, their pride stung and their patience thinning.

Bealzibub turned his gaze toward the glowing portal at the center of the hall. Within the magical projection stood Lucifer—bound in glowing chains, a prisoner within some higher domain, yet far from powerless.

"Lucifer," Bealzibub said with a bow of his head. "What is our next plan?"

Lucifer, head held high despite the restraints, spoke calmly, his voice smooth yet laden with malice. "Given our current circumstances, we—higher-ranked demons—cannot move to the frontlines without significant loss. It would require massive sacrifice, and we still need our numbers intact for the final battle."

He shifted slightly, and the screen flickered. "Considering how easily they defeated the second ranks, sending more lower-ranked demons would be a waste. They'd be slaughtered without achieving anything."

The high demons listened closely.

"However," Lucifer continued, "we still have options. We can deploy more third-ranked demons, just enough to slow them down—keep them occupied while more souls are collected for the ritual. The seal has already been broken, and souls are pouring in. We need time. And more bodies."

His eyes narrowed.

"Furthermore… I must make contact with a human. One of power, of great influence. Someone to rule, to bend humanity to our will, and carry out my instructions on Earth."

A pause.

"And as for Damon," Lucifer sneered, "my very own son… I'll deal with him personally."

—

On Earth, silence had settled over the scorched and battered battlefield. The final skirmishes had ended. The Hell 9 had emerged victorious, defeating the second-ranked demons and defending humanity in their darkest hour.

Damon flew across the sky, cradling Admiral Felicia in his arms. Her breathing was shallow. Her pulse, fading.

Spotting a city in the distance, he honed in on a bright red-and-white ambulance parked near an emergency tent. Landing with urgency, he laid Felicia gently on a stretcher, his voice sharp with urgency. "She needs medical attention—fast. Her heart rate's falling."

The medics checked her vitals and immediately began CPR, wheeling her into the ambulance as the sirens came to life.

Without waiting, Damon took off again, streaking back into the sky, seeking his comrades.

Sindel found him first. The shimmer of her zail traced her path through the air. Her eyes were red. A sniff escaped her.

"Hey…" Damon said gently, seeing her expression. "Were you crying?"

She hesitated. Then nodded. "Just a little."

He drew her close, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'm guessing whatever went on between you and Joyous really affected you, huh? Come here."

Her breathing steadied in his arms.

Moments later, Syril arrived, wind trailing behind her. Her expression was a mixture of shock and admiration. "You… faced two second-ranked demons and came out unscathed? That's incredible."

Damon let out a grin, a flicker of pride in his eyes.

"Lamia struck down one of our comrades. I believe his name was Aaron, wasn't it?"

Syril nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Where's he now?"

"I left him in an abandoned house not far from here. He's healing up… pretty fine."

Soon after, the rest of the Hell 9 regrouped, soaring toward them in the sky, scarred and weary but alive.

Damon crossed his arms in mock disbelief. "I'm surprised the rest of you survived."

Maga chuckled, shaking her head. "Pretty sure we'd be dead if it weren't for the Divine's power."

The rest of the group mumbled in agreement, slightly embarrassed but grateful nonetheless.

Damon floated just above the ground, his voice resolute. "From now on… we defend the humans. Until the day the Divine comes for His people."

He turned to look each of them in the eyes.

"And we do this… as a team."

—

In the Heavens, above the clouds and beyond human sight, the Divine stood beside the Son of Man. They watched Earth's defenders—wounded but victorious, united in purpose.

Their gaze remained still, peaceful, proud.

And from the heavenly realm, choirs of light sang songs of joy.

The heavens rejoiced.