She was attacking in six directions at once—left blade, right blade, tail, left claws, right claws, and her horned head as battering ram.

The Heroes scattered, teleporting and flying in different directions to avoid being overwhelmed.

But Seraphina’s true form had reach they couldn’t match.

Her tail caught Mikazelle mid-teleport, the bladed tip stabbing into her leg. Mikazelle screamed as corruption energy flooded the wound, disrupting her spatial magic.

Her right blade-arm caught Rindelle across the back, cutting through angel-enhanced flesh, leaving a wound that burned with demonic infection.

Her left blade-arm clashed with Gattychan’s sword, and this time the force drove HIM backward instead of her.

Her clawed foot raked across Seraphelle as the healer tried to fly past, four parallel cuts opening across her side.

Four Heroes wounded in one exchange. All four.

Seraphina attacked again , giving them no time to rest.

Gattychan tried to counter with his sword but Seraphina blade-arms moved in strange patterns and she suddenly cut Gattychan’s sword arm. Stabbed his shoulder. Slashed his chest. Opened wounds faster than Seraphelle could heal them and all these happened in an instance.

Rindelle fired judgment arrows desperately, each one striking Seraphina’s scales—

The scales were ablating under repeated hits, wearing down, but each arrow took seconds to penetrate rather than drilling straight through.

And those seconds allowed Seraphina to injure the Heroes faster than they could hurt her.

Her tail caught Rindelle in the stomach, the bladed tip punching through divine-enhanced flesh. Rindelle gasped, blood spilling from her mouth, the judgment arrow she’d been preparing falling from nerveless fingers.

Mikazelle tried to teleport Rindelle to safety—

Seraphina’s blade-arm extended mid-teleport, catching Mikazelle across the face, opening a cut from temple to jaw. Blood poured into Mikazelle’s golden eyes, blinding her.

The teleport failed. Mikazelle and Rindelle crashed to the ground in heap.

Seraphelle tried to heal them, golden light flowing toward her wounded companions—

Seraphina’s corruption miasma surged forward, physically blocking the healing magic, the dense demonic energy creating barrier that divine power couldn’t easily penetrate.

"NO!" Seraphelle screamed, trying to push more power through the miasma—

Seraphina’s clawed hand grabbed her by the throat, lifted her thirteen feet into the air until Seraphelle’s feet kicked helplessly.

"Your healing magic is impressive," Seraphina said, her voice deeper and more resonant in true form. "But it requires clear line of effect. My miasma blocks that. So your companions die slowly while you watch, unable to save them."

She threw Seraphelle a hundred feet, the healer crashing into rubble with bone-breaking force.

That left only Gattychan.

He stood alone, his sword barely able to hold defensive position, his body covered in seventeen new wounds from Seraphina’s onslaught, his angel-granted power burning through his life force with every passing second.

"Is this your angels’ grand power?" Seraphina mocked, advancing on him slowly. "Is this the divine authority that was supposed to kill me? You’ve burned through three minutes of your lives, and all you’ve accomplished is making me reveal my true form."

Her four demon wings spread to full extension—eighty feet of corrupted membrane and demonic power.

"Two minutes remain before your technique kills you. I don’t even need to fight anymore. I just need to survive two more minutes, and you’ll die on your own."

Gattychan raised his sword desperately. "We... we won’t let you..."

"You already have." Seraphina’s tail whipped forward, knocking the sword from his weakened grip.

Her blade-arm struck, cutting deep into his arm—not just wounding, but severing tendons. His fingers spasmed, unable to hold weapons anymore.

Her other blade-arm stabbed into his leg, dropping him to his knees.

Her clawed hand grabbed his head, talons digging into his skull.

She held him there—kneeling, disarmed, bleeding from twenty wounds, his life force burning away to sustain the angel that was failing to save him.

"Any last words, hero?" she asked.

From fifty feet away, Seraphelle tried to crawl toward him, her broken ribs making every movement agony. "Please... please don’t..."

Mikazelle, blinded by blood, reached out with failing spatial magic, trying to teleport Gattychan away, but her power was too disrupted. "Don’t kill him... please..."

Rindelle, the bladed tail-wound in her stomach bleeding heavily, could barely whisper. "Gattychan... no..." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

All three Heroes, broken on the ground, could only watch helplessly as Seraphina prepared to execute their leader.

Gattychan looked up at Seraphina with golden eyes that were fading—the angel’s power weakening as his life force burned to ash.

"Do it," he said quietly. "We failed. We couldn’t stop you. So finish it. Kill me. "

Seraphina’s claws tightened on his skull, preparing to crush it like overripe fruit.

Her corruption energy gathered in her claws, ready to pour directly into his brain, to burn him from the inside with demonic power that would turn his skull into charcoal—

LIGHT.

Blinding, overwhelming, absolute LIGHT.

Not the golden-white of angel wings or divine magic.

Pure white light. Clean. Perfect. Carrying the weight of divine authority that made even angels seem dim by comparison.

The light manifested between Seraphina and Gattychan.

She felt her claws grasping empty air—Gattychan was simply gone, relocated somewhere else in the microsecond she’d been blinded by the light.

She spun, her demon lord senses searching for the Heroes—

They were gone too. All three of her other victims, vanished.

And standing in the center of the battlefield, having appeared without warning, without dimensional disturbance, without any indication of arrival...

Archbishop Valentine.

—-------------

Valentine stood in the center of the scorched battlefield, and the world seemed to reorganize itself around his presence.

He was not large—only six feet tall, which made him shorter than Seraphina’s thirteen-foot demon form.

He did not carry obvious weapons—no sword, no staff, no holy symbol. Just his hands, clasped peacefully in front of his white robes.

He did not shout or posture or threaten. His expression was serene, almost gentle, like grandfather watching beloved grandchildren play.

But his presence was CRUSHING.

The air itself seemed to solidify around him, as if reality was denser in his immediate vicinity. Gravity felt heavier within thirty feet of where he stood. Light bent slightly, creating a subtle halo effect that made him appear to glow even when he wasn’t actively manifesting divine power.