I arrived on Okinawa Island to meet Queen Yuka, who was already waiting for me. Her sharp gaze reflected both curiosity and impatience. "What took you so long?" she asked. I offered a brief explanation before we departed together for the Federation. Along the way, I recounted the events that had delayed me, ensuring she was up to speed.

  Upon our arrival, the grand council was already gathered, their expectant eyes fixed upon us. We were a few minutes late, a consequence of my own tardiness—something I acknowledged as I addressed the council. The meeting commenced with discussions on our progress in forging alliances across the regions. Leaders from various territories were present, each voicing their concerns and strategies for strengthening our unity. Yet, beyond our knowledge, something sinister was brewing elsewhere. Unseen forces moved against us, their motives hidden in the shadows.

  It was during one of our deliberations that chaos erupted. Not just one outbreak, but several, striking in rapid succession. The assault came from an unexpected enemy—the Holy Church of Katsuragi and its holy warriors. Their attack was swift, calculated, and merciless.

  The meeting was immediately disrupted as alarms blared across the Kokoro Heart Federation. We rushed outside, only to witness devastation unfolding before our very eyes. Flames licked the skyline, and screams filled the air. The Federation, along with its allied regions, was under siege.

  Above the battlefield, hovering with an ethereal glow, was the supreme authority of the Holy Church—the Sacred Council of Heaven. A gathering of celestial beings, angels, and divine entities, they radiated an overwhelming presence. The weight of their judgment was almost tangible, their divine aura pressing against us like an unseen force.

  We had anticipated conflict, but not like this. I had always believed the Holy Church was governed by mortals—devout believers wielding divine power granted by their God. But this... this was beyond my imagination. True angels and celestial beings stood before us, governing the church with absolute authority. It was clear now—our rapid expansion, our development, our very evolution had shaken the foundations of their faith. And now, they had come to silence us, to erase the fruits of our labor and prosperity.

  One of the celestial beings from the Sacred Council of Heaven descended slightly, his voice resonating with an unearthly timbre.

  "You have disrupted the sacred balance," he declared, his gaze sweeping over us like a storm. "The laws of harmony, order, and divine structure ordained by the Most High God and the Great Council of the Holy Church cannot be defied. Your transgressions have stained the fabric of creation, and your abominable acts defy the will of the divine. Now, you shall receive the Holy Church of Katsuragi’s judgment."

  His proclamation was final, absolute. There would be no negotiations, no plea for mercy. War had come, and the heavens themselves had cast their verdict upon us.

  His eyes sparkled with divine fury, his voice like the crashing of raging seas. His very presence exuded the wrath and vengeance of the Third Heavenly Realm. This celestial being was none other than the highest-ranking archangel—Metatron.

  Metatron called my name, his voice cutting through the air like a celestial decree. I stepped forward as he accused me of great atrocities—the evolution and expansion of regions allied with the Federation. I tried to reason with him, hoping to prevent further conflict. I had assumed that angels, as divine beings, would be understanding. But Metatron was beyond reason. His judgment had already been passed.

  Then he revealed something even more alarming. The Holy Church had already begun its conquest. Other branches of their order were moving against our allied regions, confiscating them under the claim that the Federation had tainted them with magic-tech evolution. My blood boiled at the revelation. Even though these regions had defenses, their leaders were here at the Federation, leaving them vulnerable. I clenched my fists, my rage simmering beneath the surface.

  Kokoro, sensing my turmoil, stepped forward. She attempted to reason with the Sacred Council, her voice steady and composed. The moment she spoke, Metatron’s gaze snapped toward her. Recognition flickered in his divine eyes. He knew her—recognized her ranking status as a true goddess—but paid her no homage.

  Instead, he dismissed her ascension as a falsehood. Though her power was undeniably divine, he deemed it unrecognized by the highest heavens. "Your ascension to a true High Priestess Goddess stems from an unknown source," he declared. "You have vanquished gods and goddesses of your caliber, but you have yet to face the true deities of the Third Heavenly Realm. Your powers will either be confiscated by them or by greater, superior gods yet to reveal themselves."

  Despite Kokoro’s unwavering resolve, her words of compassion failed to reach him. Metatron began to rise, his movements unnervingly graceful. As he ascended, he lifted his right hand toward the heavens, his finger pointing skyward. Divine energy crackled around him, surging with overwhelming intensity. He was preparing to unleash an immense divine blast.

  I could not stand idle. Even as Kokoro and the other regional leaders braced themselves for combat, I knew there was no avoiding the inevitable. The Holy Church had declared war upon us.

  Before Metatron could unleash his divine blast upon us, I acted swiftly. In an instant, I took off into the sky at blinding speed—so fast that not everyone could even perceive my movement. With all my strength, I landed a powerful punch to his face. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the atmosphere like a cosmic tempest. Yet, at the heart of it all, my attack barely budged the archangel. The only sign of damage was a faint cut on his left cheek.

  As soon as I saw his reaction, I retreated. Metatron turned to look at me, his eyes shimmering with divine purity, yet carrying an unsettling, almost sinister presence. My fists, still steaming like molten magma, ached from the mere contact with his celestial form. Before my eyes, the cut on his cheek sealed itself instantly. His blood, glowing like the core of a thousand burning suns, evaporated into the air. I had never faced an angel of such magnitude before, though most of my variants had encountered beings of similar caliber across countless battles. But Metatron was different. He exuded an aura of absolute authority, making it clear that defeating him would be an arduous, potentially catastrophic task.

  I recalled the teachings of Yoshi and Lyra, the lessons about the hierarchy of power among supernatural entities. Angels, demons, and spirits were all defined by the ranks of their masters. Their power was fluid, dictated by celestial laws, yet Metatron stood above most. If we had fought elsewhere, away from innocent lives, the battle might have taken a different course. But here, in the heart of the federation, destruction was inevitable.

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  We hovered in midair, a few meters apart, silently assessing each other, calculating our next moves. Then Metatron smirked, his voice laced with amusement.

  "I must commend your effort, Unkillable Archdemon, for making me bleed—even if only a little." His golden eyes gleamed with something between admiration and disdain. "No being has ever accomplished such a feat. Let me share a secret with you. For eons, demon lords and archdemons have been reminded of their place by the heavenly realms. We, the angels, were charged with ensuring that demons never defied the celestial order."

  His voice was like the echo of many waters, a chorus of countless divine voices layered into one.

  "For millennia, angels have slaughtered demon lords who dared challenge the heavens. Yet after so much bloodshed, a truce was struck. Heaven accepted the demon realm’s plea for mercy—but only at a cost. The first and most powerful of all demon lords, Crowley, ancestor of the late demon lord Baal, whom you slew, begged on behalf of his kind. In return, he was granted the title of Archdemon, for at the time, none had survived."

  I clenched my fists, listening as Metatron continued.

  "To maintain balance, some angels and gods chose to relinquish their celestial ties and intertwine with creation. They aided Crowley in rebuilding the demon realm’s hierarchy. Thus, the great expansion of supernatural ranks began—where gods, monsters, and demons carved out their place in the infinite tier that governs all."

  He leveled a piercing gaze at me. "So tell me, do you truly believe you have any hope of defeating me? Even if you manage such a feat, another will rise in my place—one even stronger. You know the hierarchy, don’t you? You know how many of us there are."

  I inhaled sharply, my muscles tensing as we prepared to clash once more. Then, just before either of us could strike, Kokoro appeared between us, her presence halting the battle in an instant.

  She turned to me, her expression calm yet firm. "Go to Sado Island. Your people need you. I will protect my own." Then she turned to the other allied leaders. "Return to your regions. This is not just a battle—it is war. We must stand where we are needed most."

  I hesitated for a moment, my instincts screaming to fight, but deep down, I knew she was right. This was no mere skirmish. My people needed me. Meeting Kokoro’s gaze, I gave a reluctant nod. She smiled softly before a blinding light enveloped us, and in the next instant, I found myself transported back to Sado Island—back to my people, back to the war that had already begun.

  Kokoro and the Federation stood against Metatron and his companions, but despite Kokoro’s attempts at diplomacy, it was not enough to sway Metatron’s conviction. He refused to believe that the Federation’s allied regions were uninvolved in the use of magic tech. To him, the defiance had already been committed, an affront to the gods that demanded retribution.

  As if by divine decree, every allied leader was instantaneously transported back to their respective regions—only to be met with horror.

  In Hakodate City, Masashi Fujita watched as the Battle Nuns of Saint Astra from the Holy Church of Katsuragi descended upon his people, their blades singing hymns of divine punishment.

  In Yuki no Mura, once a humble village now serving as the Federation’s capital, Kazuki Kaname was besieged by the Elder Prophets, their incantations unraveling the city’s defenses with terrifying precision.

  Kumamoto City, under the rule of Harumi Jun, burned as the Nuns of the Eternal Light unleashed their relentless purge.

  Takayama City, where Hana Yamamoto held power, fell under siege by the Priests of the Holy Flame, their divine fire reducing entire districts to cinders.

  In Nagoya City, Akemi Akira fought desperately against the Holy Knights of the Sacred Blade, their consecrated steel cutting through even the most formidable warriors.

  Fukuoka City, under Keiichi Taichi, reeled under the assault of the Reverends of the Celestial Order, their prayers turning into weapons of destruction.

  Kanazawa City, ruled by Shingo Hiroko, faced the Black Knights of the Abyss Watch, their dark plate armor reflecting the crimson glow of the massacre they wrought.

  Hoshigawa Town and Kaito Town, both ruled by Koji Tanaka, found themselves attacked from two sides—the Paladins of the Radiant Dawn on one front and the Templars of the Divine Oath on the other, neither showing mercy.

  In Aomori-Ken Prefecture, Yuki Saito’s forces were overwhelmed by the relentless Cardinal Inquisitors, their unyielding faith driving them to annihilate all who stood in their way.

  Kyoto-Fu Prefecture, ruled by Ayumi Tatsuya, struggled against the might of the Archbishop of the Divine Order, his blessings turning his followers into unstoppable zealots.

  In Osaka-Fu Prefecture, Toshiro Riku faced a nightmare in the form of the Liege of the Sacred Throne, his golden armor gleaming as he led his forces with divine authority.

  On Okinawa Island, Yuka Issei barely held her ground as the Holy Popes themselves arrived, their very presence warping the battlefield with divine energy.

  But it was my arrival on Sado Island that shattered me the most. There, my hellish subordinates—both those bound to this world and those summoned from the depths of Hell—had come to our aid. Yet their aid came at a horrifying cost. The islanders—men, women, children, even animals—had been slaughtered like mere offerings to the so-called gods of the Holy Church.

  And leading this massacre was none other than His Holiness, the Divine Pontiff.

  The sheer scale of death was beyond comprehension. Yet, for every fallen Federation warrior, an adversary had been taken down as well. The battlefield was littered with the broken forms of the Pontiff’s companions, and among them, the ranks of angels that had accompanied him lay in ruin.

  Then, amidst the devastation, my heart clenched at the sight of the lifeless forms of the twin High Archdemoness sisters—Beleviamoth and Beliamoth. Their formidable might had been enough to tear the archangel Michael apart, his celestial body shredded beyond recognition. But in their final act of defiance, they had perished, their bodies lifeless against the blood-soaked ground.

  Yet, despite our fierce resistance, the battle was far from over. His Holiness, the Divine Pontiff, still stood, his robes pristine amid the carnage. Around him, the few remaining holy warriors and the last of the surviving angels—though gravely wounded—began to chant in unison. Holy magic flared, sacred weapons glowed with divine radiance, and the balance of the fight threatened to tip once more.

  My six faithful demon subordinates had suffered heavy losses in battle. Mammon, Malebolgia, and Astra had fallen while protecting the islanders against the onslaught of principalities. By my side stood the gravely injured Demon Lord Beelzebub, while to my right, Heylel remained—his most audacious act in battle being the duplication of himself into six forms, each bearing a name I had once bestowed upon him.

  Many of Heylel's manifestations had perished. Samuel, Son of the Morning, and Yaldabaoth had died fighting against formidable angels and archangels such as Joel, Gabriel, Uriel, and Raphael. Yet, three of his aspects—Lucifer, Satan, and Heylel himself—had survived their brutal confrontation with the principalities. Meanwhile, Buer played a crucial role in turning the tide of battle, commanding her forces from the demon realm and summoning fifty thousand shadowy creatures of the abyss to bolster our ranks.

  At last, I came face to face with His Holiness, the Divine Pontiff. Fury burned within me; I thought of nothing else but ending him, despite the formidable defense of his remaining angels and holy warriors.

  "Finally, the man of the hour arrives," the Divine Pontiff declared, his voice unwavering. "The mistaken savior of the world—one unapproved by the gods, nor the spirit."

  His gaze was filled with righteousness, devoid of remorse for the devastation he had wrought upon my people. "The gods have ordained me to purge this island in their names, to cleanse it of its sins and blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, the Holy Church, and the Katsuragi Victory Empire."