His eyes were the most striking feature—not glowing like the angel-possessed Heroes’ golden eyes, but perfectly ordinary brown eyes that somehow carried the weight of absolute divine judgment. When those eyes looked at you, you felt your soul being weighed. Every sin. Every virtue. Every choice you’d ever made, examined and evaluated with perfect impartial authority.

His white robes, trimmed with gold thread, somehow remained pristine despite the blood-soaked battlefield around him. Not through magic—they simply refused to be stained, as if dirt and blood recognized they had no place touching the Archbishop and respectfully avoided him.

But it was his aura that truly defined him.

Holy power radiated from Valentine’s body in waves that were almost visible—not as flashy light shows or dramatic effects, but as subtle pressure that made demonic energy recoil, that made corruption wither, that made anything unholy feel unwelcome in his presence.

The four angel-possessed Heroes, wounded and broken, knelt behind him—having been teleported to safety by his intervention. They looked at Valentine with expressions of awe and relief.

Seraphina looked at Valentine with expression of pure hatred mixed with genuine fear.

"Archbishop," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Demon lord hunter. Executioner of my kind. What perfect timing. Wait until your Heroes nearly die, then swoop in to claim victory."

Valentine’s expression didn’t change. His gentle smile remained perfectly in place.

"Demon Lord Seraphina." His voice was conversational, warm even, like speaking to old acquaintance. "I’ve been hunting you for years. Since I became Archbishop. You’ve been remarkably clever at avoiding me, never revealing your true form, staying mobile and untraceable."

He took one step forward.

The ground beneath his foot didn’t shake or crack. It simply became holier—blessed by his touch, sanctified by his presence. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"But today you committed yourself to defending this settlement. Today you revealed your true form. Today you stayed in one location long enough for me to arrive."

Another step. Another patch of holy ground.

"Today, after forty-three years of hunting... I finally catch you."

Seraphina’s four demon wings spread defensively, her corruption miasma billowing outward, her scales hardening across her body.

"You think you can kill me? I just beat four angel-possessed Heroes! I was about to execute them! You’re just one human—strong, yes, but ONE!"

Valentine’s smile widened slightly.

"Demon Lord Seraphina. You’ve lived for a long time. You’ve accumulated vast power. You’ve mastered corruption magic that few demons can match. You’ve survived encounters with seven previous Archbishops through cunning and mobility."

He raised one hand, and light manifested—not aggressively, just... existing around his palm. Pure white radiance that seemed to make Seraphina’s corruption miasma recoil.

"But you’ve made three critical errors today."

His voice remained conversational, almost friendly, even as he listed her failures.

"First error: You revealed your true form. Now I know your capabilities. No more mystery. No more unknown variables. I see exactly what you are."

The light around his hand intensified slightly.

"Second error: You exhausted yourself fighting the Heroes for forty-three minutes, then burned even more power manifesting true form. You’re not at full strength anymore. You’re tired. Wounded. Depleted."

The light began spreading down his arm, flowing like liquid.

"Third error: You stayed still. You committed to this location. You can’t flee anymore because fleeing means abandoning this settlement, which means failing Demon Lord Loki, which means losing your only powerful ally."

The light now covered his entire right arm, from fingertips to shoulder.

"So you’re trapped here. Tired. Revealed. Fighting an opponent specifically trained and empowered to kill demons."

Valentine’s expression shifted—still gentle, still serene, but now carrying edge of absolute certainty.

"You were correct earlier. Four angel-possessed Heroes couldn’t kill you. But I’m not four Heroes."

His aura expanded, and Seraphina felt the crushing weight of divine authority pressing down on her demon lord power like mountain on insect.

"I’m the Archbishop. Second only to the Pope in divine authority. Blessed by the Goddess herself. Trained for years specifically to hunt your kind."

Pure white light erupted from his entire body now—not the golden-white of angels, but the clean perfect radiance of absolute divine power.

"And unlike those children..."

His eyes, those ordinary brown eyes, suddenly blazed with light that made Seraphina’s burning gaze look dim.

"...I’ve been killing demon lords for four decades."

The light became blinding, overwhelming, inescapable.

Valentine stood in the center of apocalyptic radiance, his presence filling the entire battlefield, his divine authority made manifest.

And Seraphina, for all her years, for all her demon lord power, for all her true form’s might...

...felt like prey before inevitable predator.

Valentine turned towards the Four Heroes still in their angel-possessed forms, golden wings spread, eyes glowing, but broken and bleeding from their fight with Seraphina.

Gattychan had twenty-three wounds across his body. Seraphelle had cracked ribs and internal injuries. Mikazelle was partially blinded by blood. Rindelle had a tail-wound through her stomach that was barely keeping her alive through angelic power alone.

And their life force was burning away—the Angelic Descent technique consuming decades of lifespan every minute to sustain the divine beings merged with their mortal bodies.

Valentine looked at them with his ordinary brown eyes that somehow carried infinite divine judgment.

"Heroes," he said, his voice gentle despite the apocalyptic battle raging around them. "You’ve done well. Better than I expected, honestly. You contained a demon lord in her true form for forty-three minutes while suppressed by Villain’s Bane. That’s... impressive."

"Archbishop..." Gattychan gasped, his angel-merged voice harmonizing strangely. "We... we can still fight..."

"No," Valentine said simply. "You can’t. The Angelic Descent technique is killing you. I can see your life force burning—you have perhaps ninety seconds before the angels consume you completely and leave nothing but ash."

He raised one hand, pure white light manifesting around his palm.

"It’s going to be troublesome if you die. The Church invested years training you. The Goddess herself summoned you to this world. And frankly, I don’t want to explain to the Pope why I let four heroes burn themselves to death unnecessarily."