Deep beneath the Holy City, the research chamber no longer resembled a place of study or reverence.

  What once gleamed with sanctified light was now a ruin of scorched stone and shattered machinery. Sigil arrays lay broken, their runes flickering weakly before dying out entirely. Dust hung thick in the air, drifting slowly like ash after a great fire. The scent of burned mana lingered—sharp, metallic, and wrong.

  At the center of the devastation stood the seven cannon capsules.

  They were still intact.

  For a moment, there was only silence.

  Then—

  BOOM.

  One capsule’s upper casing blasted outward, tumbling across the chamber as if kicked from within. Almost immediately, another followed. Then another. Seven violent expulsions echoed one after another, shaking the cavern walls.

  From within the billowing smoke, a grey hand emerged, fingers curling around the jagged rim of a shattered capsule.

  Then another hand.

  And another.

  Slowly, one by one, seven figures stepped out from their vessels.

  Through the haze, golden irises ignited like stars piercing a storm.

  Seven Archangels stood awakened.

  Their presence alone crushed the air, bending it under invisible pressure. The remaining researchers froze where they stood—some in awe, some trembling, some already resigned to death.

  A younger researcher whispered, voice shaking with reverence,

  “Th-this… this is the beginning of a new age.”

  An older man beside him gave a hollow chuckle, eyes darkened by fear.

  “Only if we live long enough to see it.”

  Above them, a platform descended soundlessly.

  Lumiel floated down, his six wings folding with controlled grace as he landed before the newly awakened Archangels. Behind him, Saint Fariel watched intently, his expression carefully masked.

  Lumiel raised one wing.

  A single sweep.

  The lingering smoke, embers, and fire were blown away as if erased from existence.

  The chamber cleared.

  Seven Archangels now stood fully revealed—each bearing the same grey skin, the same celestial physique, the same radiant authority that once ruled the skies.

  Lumiel stepped forward.

  “Brothers,” he said, his voice steady yet heavy with unspoken grief.

  “I am glad… that you are all finally awake.”

  The one standing at the forefront narrowed his glowing eyes.

  “Lumiel?” he asked slowly. “Where are we? How are we here?”

  Another spoke sharply, confusion laced with unease.

  “Weren’t we meant to be sacrifices—our final resort to destroy our enemy?”

  A third demanded, “Then how are we still alive?”

  Lumiel inhaled deeply.

  “Calm yourselves,” he said. “I will explain.”

  He turned, gesturing for them to follow.

  “Our plan… failed,” Lumiel continued as they moved deeper. “And in failing, it brought about the destruction of our home. I witnessed it myself—before I fell into hibernation.”

  The words struck like a blade.

  “Destroyed?” one Archangel snarled.

  “How?” another roared. “If we failed, then where are our people?!”

  Lumiel led them into the inner cavern.

  There, the truth awaited.

  The ruined sky-city lay before them—fractured towers embedded into stone, shattered sanctums fused with the cavern ceiling, remnants of once-radiant structures now broken and buried. Even in ruin, traces of its former splendor lingered like a ghost of glory.

  Three Archangels dropped to their knees.

  Their shoulders shook as silent tears fell.

  The remaining four stood rigid, fists clenched, golden eyes burning with restrained fury.

  Lumiel spoke again, his voice lower now.

  “We attempted to sacrifice our life force—to fuel the ultimate weapon meant to erase the Shadowborn.”

  He paused.

  “But the beam was deflected.”

  Their heads snapped toward him.

  “It turned upon us,” Lumiel said. “And struck our Heaven Sanctuary instead.”

  The chamber trembled faintly, as if echoing his words.

  “We underestimated the Shadowborn’s true power,” he continued.

  “We were prideful. Arrogant. We believed our creation infallible.”

  His wings folded tightly behind him.

  “And this… is our punishment.”

  A strained silence followed.

  “We live,” Lumiel said, “not because we succeeded—but because we were left behind to bear the shame of destroying our own home.”

  Several Archangels wept openly now.

  Yet Lumiel raised his gaze.

  “But redemption is not beyond us,” he said firmly.

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  “The Shadowborn still lives. I fought him—if only briefly.”

  The weeping ceased.

  Golden eyes sharpened.

  “I am certain it was him,” Lumiel continued, brows furrowing.

  “And yet… it was not. There was something familiar about him. A scent I could not place.”

  Saint Fariel stepped forward carefully.

  “Lord Lumiel, may I speak of this?”

  Without turning, Lumiel answered,

  “Speak.”

  Fariel addressed the Archangels.

  “The fall of your kingdom occurred during the First Cycle. We now exist in the Fourth—hundreds of thousands of years later.”

  He turned to Lumiel.

  “The Shadowborn you fought… was he as powerful as the one you faced back then?”

  Lumiel’s expression darkened.

  “Not even close,” he said.

  “The Shadowborn of our era was… beyond me. A being I could not challenge alone. He was close to a god—yet born of mortal lineage.”

  One Archangel scoffed in rage.

  “We are of a superior race, created by our god! A mortal transcending us was unacceptable!”

  Lumiel’s voice cut through sharply.

  “And yet, we were defeated by this mortal.”

  Silence fell.

  “That alone proves the truth of it,” Lumiel said.

  “And worse—we helped make him what he became.”

  Fariel’s eyes widened.

  “Helped him… how?”

  Lumiel’s gaze turned distant.

  “Long before the Shadowborn’s birth, there existed a primordial beast—vast, ancient, and destructive beyond measure. Wherever it roamed, calamity followed.”

  “So we hunted it,” Lumiel said quietly.

  “And in doing so… sealed our fate.”

  He continued, voice heavy with memory.

  “We chased it across the world, never wounding it enough to stop it. When we finally cornered it… it was not alone.”

  Fariel leaned forward, intrigued.

  “There was another,” Lumiel said.

  “A female ancient dragon—equal in size and power.”

  Murmurs rippled among the Archangels.

  “We dismissed her as just another beast,” Lumiel said bitterly.

  “That was our mistake.”

  “In that final hunt, most of our military forces were present. Pride blinded us. The two beasts fought back aggressively—not like creatures… but like nature itself.”

  His fists tightened.

  “Our army was annihilated.”

  “Only a few of us escaped,” Lumiel said. “Wounded. Broken.”

  “As Archangels, we endured,” he continued.

  “But the angels…” his voice faltered.

  “They were slaughtered like ants.”

  A painful silence followed.

  Lumiel’s wings lowered slightly, the golden glow in his eyes dimming—not from weakness, but from memory.

  “With our defeat,” he continued, his voice heavy, “we returned to our Heaven Sanctuary… and were judged.”

  The Archangels stiffened.

  “The Council deemed our failure unforgivable,” Lumiel said. “Not for losing the battle—but for losing command. For leading our armies into annihilation.”

  He clenched his fist.

  “Each of us was sentenced to a thousand lashes upon the back.”

  A sharp intake of breath echoed among the researchers.

  “The punishment broke our bodies,” Lumiel said quietly. “But it was not the pain of the lashes that shattered us.”

  His gaze lowered.

  “It was the weight of our losses. The screams of our fallen. The knowledge that our pride had killed them.”

  Time passed, he explained—years within years—before whispers spread across the world.

  News of a child.

  “A mortal child,” Lumiel said, “born among humans… carrying the presence of the Shadowborn, a being of untold possibility prophesized to be the guide of the world.”

  Soon after, our Council summoned me.

  “They ordered me to represent the Angel race in a conclave among all races,” Lumiel said. “The topic was how to deal with the primordial beast.”

  He scoffed faintly at his past self.

  “I was reluctant. Even resentful. My pride still clung to me then. To sit among mortals and lower being… to discuss salvation with them.”

  At the gathering, the humans presented a boy.

  Young. Unassuming. But unusually calm.

  “They proposed to test him,” Lumiel said. “To see if he was worth the rumors.”

  One by one, the races demonstrated their arts.

  Magic. Martial mastery. Elemental dominion. Forbidden spells.

  “And with a single glance,” Lumiel said, voice sharpening, “the child duplicated them.”

  Not merely copied.

  Perfected.

  “Every spell refined. Every technique improved. Every flaw erased.”

  Gasps rippled among the Archangels as Lumiel continued.

  “Then it was my turn.”

  He smiled faintly at the memory—cold, disdainful.

  “I looked upon him and saw only a fragile mortal. So I decided… not to hold back.”

  Lumiel described the moment vividly.

  “I cast my light barrier and flashed before him, light gathering around my palm. I intended to end him in that instant.”

  The chamber felt colder as he spoke.

  “But in that same split second—”

  Lumiel’s eyes narrowed.

  “The child cast the same light barrier.”

  Golden sigils. Perfect replication.

  “And not only that,” Lumiel said. “He compressed it. Wrapped it around his body.”

  Before Lumiel could react—

  “He struck me.”

  A kick.

  Direct to the head.

  Shattering Lumiel’s barrier.

  “And sent me crashing to the ground.”

  Shock swept through the conclave.

  “Everyone froze,” Lumiel said. “Angels do not fall. Archangels do not bleed.”

  The races retreated as if bracing for divine wrath.

  But he stood up, calmly.

  Lumiel straightened unconsciously as he recalled it.

  “I looked into the boy’s eyes,” he said softly. “And for the first time… I felt no contempt.”

  A faint smirk touched his lips.

  “I told him—‘Not bad, little sprout.’”

  Then Lumiel walked away.

  “With that meeting concluded,” he continued, “we all agreed to train him.”

  All of them.

  “Every race offered their secret arts. Ultimate techniques. Even forbidden magic.”

  “For one purpose,” Lumiel said. “To forge the ultimate weapon against the primordial beast.”

  His voice hardened.

  “And yes… it worked.”

  “The child became something else entirely.”

  “He defeated the female ancient dragon without equal,” Lumiel said.

  “And though he could not kill the primordial beast… he sealed it...But peace did not follow.”

  “With the greatest threat gone,” Lumiel said, “fear took its place.”

  The races turned inward.

  “They began to fear what they had created.”

  The child grew into an adult.

  Unbound.

  “Some worshipped him as a god,” Lumiel said.

  “Others branded him a threat.”

  He looked away and glance at the ruins of his past home.

  “Our Council… was among them.”

  Fariel remained silent, listening.

  “And so,” Lumiel continued, “the Shadowborn emerged—not as a savior, but as destruction.”

  “A force that erased all who stood against him.”

  Lumiel exhaled slowly.

  “That,” he said, “is the story of him… as far as my memory reaches.”

  The chamber remained utterly silent.

  Not from fear—

  —but from the weight of a history that had never truly ended.

  

  Fariel swallowed.

  “My Lord… how many Archangels were there originally?”

  “Twelve,” Lumiel answered.

  “Twelve seats for the strongest to ascend.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “And to that beast, we lost three brothers… and our only sister.”

  Fariel heavy in thought and hesitated.

  “My Lord… are you certain she perished?”

  Lumiel turned sharply, fury exploding.

  “You doubt my eyes, insect?!”

  In a blur, he seized Fariel by the throat, lifting him effortlessly.

  “I saw her body myself!”

  Fariel choked, struggling.

  “M-my Lord—p-please—there is… something you must know!”

  Lumiel released him.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Do you know of her?”

  Fariel gasped for air, then spoke quickly.

  “No—but I believe it concerns her.”

  “There exists another Archangel,” Fariel said.

  “which was born in this cycle.”

  Lumiel’s eyes widened.

  “Impossible.”

  “She was born,” Fariel continued, “of an immortal from darkness and a human carrying what i believed to be of angelic bloodline.”

  He explained rapidly—of ancient settlers, dormant bloodlines, cycles of survival.

  “The bloodline was laid dormant until it awakened in their child,” Fariel said.

  “And the child was born with an angel physique… yet also inherited the powers of darkness.”

  “Crimson irises,” he added softly.

  “Unlike yours. She is a being of both light and darkness”

  “However, with the recent crisis she ascended into an archangel when i removed her limiter seal.”

  “And with that she could even held off the Maw, who i believe to be the same primordial beast you mentioned.”

  The chamber erupted.

  “That is impossible!” one Archangel roared.

  Lumiel raised his hand.

  “He speak of the truth,” he said.

  “I saw it. Vaguely but i remember she fought the primordial beast… while battling two beings of darkness.”

  Fariel nodded.

  “In this era, the darkness being you referred are known as Vampires. Ancient Ones. And one of them… is her father.”

  Lumiel’s golden eyes burned brighter.

  “Brothers,” he said slowly.

  “It is time we leave this place.”

  His wings unfurled fully.

  “Let us go to the outside world...and also bring our kin home.”

  One by one, the seven Archangels spread their six wings.

  The air trembled.

  And deep beneath the Holy City, the heavens stirred once more.