[Azazel's POV]
Five days have passed since Trihexa clawed its way back into our world.
Barakiel and I were stationed in the heart of the Underworld, within the strategy briefing room of the Lucifer Castle in the capital city, Lilith. We sat among the high command of both the Devil and Fallen Angel factions, locked in a desperate cycle of deliberation on how to counter this threat.
Sirzechs had stepped out momentarily to attend to another matter, while Shemhaza, the current Governor General of Grigori, was overseeing operations directly from our headquarters.
On paper, our sneak attack on Qlippoth five days ago was a success. We struck down their leader, Rizevim, and reclaimed Agreas. We had achieved every one of our initial objectives.
But the aftermath that awaited us was a nightmare far beyond our worst projections.
In a final, spiteful act, Rizevim had triggered the unthinkable: he had used his own death as the final key to shatter the seals on Trihexa. The moment he fell, the binding spells were vaporized in an instant.
Once unleashed, Trihexa didn't waste time. Flanked by the legendary Evil Dragons—Azi Dahaka and Apophis—as well as a horde of lesser dragons and mass-produced Red Dragon Emperor clones, the beast began its rampage. Its first move was to tear through Grigori's infrastructure.
I suppose it went after our facilities first simply because they were the easiest targets to dismantle.
We expected that after hitting the Fallen Angel territories in the Underworld, they would pivot to the Devil territories within the same realm. Instead, as if reading our every move, they performed a mass spatial transfer directly into Heaven. It wasn't just a surprise attack; it was a total bypass of our defenses.
The cost was devastating. Countless subordinates who stood against Trihexa were wiped out. Even Sahariel and Benemne, two of our Cadres, were left in critical condition, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Damn it all…!
My lab was among the facilities destroyed. All my ongoing research, years of irreplaceable data—gone. This setback will derail our progress for years.
But more than the data, the loss of our people—the brilliant minds and the loyal soldiers—is a blow I can't quite put into words. Looking at the casualty lists, I saw the names of those who had followed me since the beginning. Guys I used to drink and act like an idiot with when we were young.
It doesn't matter how many centuries pass; you never truly get used to the hollow ache of loss. That kind of regret stays with you forever.
The damage to Heaven is just as catastrophic. Three members of the Seraphs are severely wounded. The report says that among the Four Great Seraphs, Raphael lost a leg and Uriel lost an arm. Even Michael couldn't hold his own against Trihexa; he's currently recovering from his injuries. The reason the leader of Heaven isn't at this table is that he's split between the infirmary and the desperate reconstruction of their shattered bases.
They managed to protect the "System," thank God… but the price was astronomical. In such a short span of time, so many white and black feathers have been scattered to the wind.
After laying waste to Heaven, just as they did to Grigori, the enemy vanished. We attempted to track them immediately, but they had slipped through our fingers.
By the time they finally reappeared on our sensors, it was already too late.
"Is the Norse realm to be consumed by flames as well…?" Barakiel murmured, his voice trembling as he watched the feed projected onto the round table.
It was true. The enemy was now marching through the Norse territories.
The Norse world is comprised of three tiers, from the depths of Helheim and Niflheim to the heights of Asgard, the home of the gods. It was there that the Seven-Headed Beast—the several-hundred-meter-tall Trihexa—had manifested. Starting from the bottom tier, it began a systematic destruction, reaching the top tier today, on the fifth day of its revival.
The speed of their advance is terrifying. Currently, the Norse gods, the Einherjar of Valhalla, and the Valkyrie units are throwing everything they have at the Trihexa legion in a desperate attempt to stem the tide.
But Trihexa breathes a soul-scorching, malevolent flame that snuffs out lives with a single gust.
Hovering beside the beast were two shadows. The three-headed "Diabolical Source Dragon," Azi Dahaka, and the human-form "Primordial Eclipse Dragon," Apophis. They are monsters in their own right.
Azi Dahaka filled the sky with countless magic circles, unleashing a relentless barrage of high-tier fire, ice, lightning, and gale-force winds across a massive area, shredding the ranks of the Einherjar.
Meanwhile, Apophis was weaving a shroud of primordial darkness in the sky, threatening to blot out the sun. If he succeeds, it's over. Once his forbidden spell triggers, the entire region will be swallowed by the "Primordial Water"—a dark river that consumes everything. I don't even know if a God-class being could survive a direct hit from that.
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