Chapter 97
Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW
Chapter 97: Title
"Is it unnecessary to trouble us, or are you simply incapable?" Mammon sneered at Michael. "To come searching all the way to Hell."
"Hell’s suppression of the Abyss makes this matter undeniably relevant to your domain," Michael retorted firmly, his stance rigid. Representing Heaven’s dignity, he couldn’t afford weakness before these fallen ones.
Mammon’s irreverent tone toward My God alone justified Michael’s icy demeanor, regardless of other provocations.
"Mammon." Lucifer’s voice cut through.
The greed demon snapped his jaws shut mid-retort, fiery gaze abandoning Michael to fix worshipfully upon his sovereign.
"Your command, Majesty?"
Lucifer studied the archangel with faint amusement. How curious to be addressed so boldly by one who’d once stood subordinate to him in celestial hierarchies.
"This affair doesn’t concern Hell," the Demon King declared.
"The solution you seek isn’t found here."
"Follow the Abyss-path if you doubt me. Hunt your own answers for recalling those creatures." Lucifer waved lazily, dark nails glinting. "Now depart. Unless you crave… demonstrations of Hell’s hospitality."
The familiar vitriol between realms hung thick. Michael suppressed a sigh – even forewarned, hearing such venom from Heaven’s former brightest star still stung.
Mammon practically vibrated with anticipation beside the throne. Among Seven Deadly Sins, none matched his zeal for tormenting celestial envoys.
(Let it be noted: Mammon reserved special hatred for archangels who’d shared dawnlit councils with his King. Michael’s inherited authority made him prime target.)
Wisdom dictated retreat before claws unsheathed. Michael inclined his head.
"Since Hell offers no aid, I’ll trouble your domain no longer."
The God of Light’s emissary withdrew with measured poise, maintaining parity between realms. Mammon’s snort echoed as golden wings faded.
"Swift exit. Saved himself a volcanic ejection."
Belial and other Sins who’d known Michael in better times exchanged relieved glances. Thank the Void it wasn’t hotheaded Remiel visiting today.
Beyond Hell’s gates, Michael veered not toward silver spires but mortal channels.
Vatican City
Divine descents usually blazed with fanfare. This time, Michael muted his glory – the Abyssal stench permeating the human realm demanded discretion.
Corruption thickened the air. Every instinct screamed to purge the infestation, though few mortals grasped how their world’s foundations eroded. A glamour shivered over his form – necessary precaution in this age of cameras and viral images.
The Pope’s Study
Worlds might crumble, but the Pontiff’s duty never paused. Reports of Abyssal breaches flooded his desk even as the Son pushed his mortal vessel to ruinous limits – seven angelic summons already! Yet recalling the young man now would spark disastrous speculations…
The pontiff’s brooding fractured as light pooled before him. A blond youth materialized, red cross pendant glowing against his white robe – celestial radiance contained within human guise.
The room held an unexpected visitor. The Pope looked up, startled by the unfamiliar young man before him. Just as he prepared to summon guards, the stranger’s attire struck a chord of recognition.
"…Archangel Michael? Is that you?" the Pope ventured after a moment’s hesitation.
"It is." Michael dissolved his illusion, revealing celestial features that glowed with divine authority.
The Pope hurried forward, bowing slightly. "Forgive me for not receiving you properly—"
"The oversight is mine," Michael interrupted gently, steadying the older man with a touch. "I wished to observe the human realm undisturbed. These abyssal intrusions… I’ve come regarding them."
"Truly?" Hope illuminated the Pope’s weathered face. "This is the first light we’ve seen in weeks! Whatever you require—"
"Your trust honors me," Michael replied, the warmth in his voice belying his private unease. Alone and solutionless, the archangel found the Pontiff’s faith cutting deeper than any blade.
"Your Grace…" The Pope hesitated before voicing the question haunting theological circles. "Do we understand what births these abyssal creatures?"
Michael’s gaze turned inward as the Pontiff elaborated. "Their essence mirrors Eastern legends of subterranean voids," he finally said. "Though no second abyssal deity stirs—that I’d have sensed."
When Bear Country’s supplementary findings arrived hours later, none suspected celestial hands guiding mortal scholars.
*
Elsewhere, a black kitten’s paw slammed against crumpled parchment. "Postpone the plan?!" Hein’s feline whiskers quivered with outrage. "Lance abandons his post, then promotes Atalans over me?!"
The demon-turned-kitten seethed. While he risked annihilation tempting the Son Loral, deserters climbed hierarchies? His claws shredded the offensive message moments before sensitive ears caught approaching footsteps.
The door creaked open.
Loral’s robe hung heavy with grime and crimson stains—human blood, Hein noted without sniffing. Three days. That’s how long France’s cleansed streets had remained tolerable before corrupted humans started ambushing their neighbors.
The Son absently flicked holy light spells at his "pet", ignorant of how the purifying magic bleached obsidian fur silver-tipped. Hein’s tail lashed. Being unmade by a holy child’s pampering? The ultimate demonic humiliation.
Loral emerged from steam-clouded baths, scooping the "sleeping" kitten onto his lap. Memories surfaced—waking in sterile sheets to find this creature curled on his chest weeks prior. Hill’s timely interruption had sealed the adoption.
Now, between purging tainted souls and smiling through gore-splattered rescues, the Son found perverse comfort in manhandling soft fur. Hein endured the aggressive stroking, plotting vengeance between dizzy spells.
Another holy light spell shimmered above him. The kitten pretended sleep, silently cursing. One major purification ritual now, and he’d regress to mewling infancy—a cosmic joke ending for hell’s former strategist.
