I got an email saying the restriction has now been lifted, but I'm kinda of scared I post something and get shadowbanned again lol.
And I haven't forgotten about this fanfic. I was focused on my Doctor Who one, cause it doctor who i can write the craziest things and it would fit right in that universe
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Smoke still clung to Crom's scales hours after the fight. The scent of ozone and divine magic refused to wash off, no matter how deep he submerged in the hot springs beneath the Khaos fortress. It was like she had marked him, that woman, the so-called "angel." He told himself it was just residual magic, but something about the silence that followed her kick haunted him more than the pain itself.
He kept seeing her eyes. Not bright with holy fire, but quiet. Empty. Like she'd already judged him and moved on.
Crom exhaled a slow, rumbling breath, steam rolling across the cavern pool. Around him, the murmurs of the fortress above echoed faintly: engineers, fallen magi, devils, and traitor angels moving through the underground stronghold. The Khaos Brigade had become more restless these last few days, and everyone could feel it. Heaven was changing.
He finally climbed out, shaking the water from his wings before shifting into human form. The body cracked and condensed, shrinking to the tall, dark-haired man form he used when dealing with devils, less scales, more diplomacy. His coat hung heavy over broad shoulders as he made his way down the corridor toward the council chamber.
The meeting was already underway when he entered.
The chamber was carved out of black stone, walls lined with magic screens and glowing runic diagrams. Around a long obsidian table sat the leaders of the current Khaos cells—the devils from the Old Satan Faction, a few rogue magicians, and the pale, silver-haired figure of a fallen angel who acted as their liaison. The air reeked of ambition and distrust.
Rizevim Livan Lucifer leaned back in his chair at the head of the table, hands clasped behind his head, smiling like the room belonged to him. He always smiled. Even when talking about war.
"Ah, Crom Cruach," Rizevim said lazily. "The dragon of dragons finally graces us with his presence. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned this little rebellion of ours."
Crom didn't answer right away. He took the empty chair near the far end, wings flickering once before folding away.
"I was busy," he said simply.
Rizevim's smirk twitched. "Busy getting your scales kicked in by some human magician, perhaps? Rumor travels faster than you think. Something happened in Kyoto, didn't it?"
A few of the devils chuckled quietly. Others didn't dare look at him.
Crom's eyes narrowed. "A… situation. Handled."
"Handled," repeated a red-haired devil to his left, one of the new breed, a self-proclaimed 'Engineer Super Devil,' wearing a coat lined with glowing circuitry. "That's an interesting word, considering the locals are whispering about a pillar of light seen over the city. Sounds a lot like divine interference."
Rizevim tilted his head, still watching Crom. "You saw something. Or someone. Go on, dragon, entertain us."
For a long moment, Crom considered telling the truth. That the woman he met was no mere angel. That she'd stopped him effortlessly, pried his arms apart like a toy, and hit him with magic that burned right through his soul. That was when he looked at her; he didn't see an angel; he saw something older.
'That would make sense, she god, but the fallen and old devil all said he died a true death; it should be impossible for him to come back as that woman
But then he looked around the table, the smirking devils, the ambitious magicians, the Fallen who thought they could outsmart Heaven, and decided against it. They'd panic. Worse, they'd want to challenge her. And that would get them all killed, he didn't want to end up like the two heavenly dragons, holy toys for human children.
"Just a strong one," he said at last. "An upper-rank angel, maybe something new. Whatever Heaven's building, they've upgraded."
Rizevim raised a brow. "Upgraded? That's an odd way to describe holiness."
"She fought like a god," Crom replied, tone flat. "But she wasn't the God."
A ripple passed through the room at that word, God. No one said it comfortably anymore. The old rumors had been dismissed a thousand times, yet none of them could deny the signs: new angels appearing across Europe, miracles resurfacing, devils being obliterated by weapons that shouldn't exist.
A younger devil leaned forward, face half-hidden behind holographic glasses. "Our spies reported sightings of twelve unknown seraphim operating under Heaven's banner. They call them the 'New Generation.' And there's talk of something else with them, a burning rider, skeletal, chains made of scripture. Some are saying it's Zarathos from a human comic book about a fallen angel."
That name made even Rizevim's smirk falter.
Crom folded his arms. "You've seen the same reports I have. Heaven's moving assets we haven't seen since the Great War. Angels wearing warplate, not robes anymore. Scripture patterns matching… whatever those mechanical weapons are. They're militarizing."
The fallen angel across from him, a thin, sharp-eyed woman named Calliel, tapped her fingers against the table. "Then our move on Kyoto comes at the perfect time," she said. "The Old Satan Faction wants a proving ground for the Engineer Devils. We'll see how they perform against the new angelic devices."
"You're assuming they'll show up," Crom said quietly.
"They always do," Calliel replied. "Kyoto's a spiritual hotbed. It's practically sacred territory now that Heaven's watching it. Strike there, and we'll draw their response."
One of the magicians snorted. "We're not trying to win, just collect data. The Engineer Devils need live combat feedback. Heaven's new forces will be analyzed, catalogued, and countered. If they bleed, we'll find out how."
Crom listened, silent, his mind half in the room, half still in that street in Kyoto where she'd looked down at him like a disappointed parent.
They didn't bleed, he thought. You won't make them bleed.
Rizevim clapped his hands together, breaking the murmurs. "Excellent. I love it when the room agrees with me. Kyoto, it is. The Engineer prototypes will deploy within the week. Calliel, coordinate the Fallen's recon teams. I want every holy sensor, every ward, every trace of Heaven's tech catalogued and copied. And Crom…"
The dragon looked up.
Rizevim's smile turned almost genuine. "You'll serve as our deterrent. Should things get too hot, make sure our little scientists have time to retreat. After all, you're our heavy artillery, aren't you?"
Crom gave a small nod. "I'll handle it."
"Good dragon." Rizevim leaned back again, clearly satisfied. "The age of Heaven's dominance is long gone. Whatever they're doing now, it's desperate. Angels dressed like soldiers? It's pathetic. They've lost their grace."
No one laughed.
Crom notices some fallen stare back at Rizevim with some bloodlust.
After all, they were heaven soldiers.
Crom watched him, silent, and in that silence, he realized something important: Rizevim didn't believe his own words. The smirk was armor. The jokes were a mask. The son of Lucifer was terrified, though he'd die before admitting it.
Another voice joined the discussion, a devil with violet eyes and a humming faintly above her head. "If Heaven truly has a new command structure," she said, "we should assume the Old God didn't die. Or someone else took His throne."
Calliel scoffed. "Please. If Yahweh had returned, we'd all be ash."
"You're sure of that?" Crom asked quietly.
Everyone turned toward him.
He shrugged. "They say the old God was mercy and wrath in equal measure. If He's back and hasn't burned us yet, maybe He's different. Maybe he's waiting."
The thought unsettled them more than fire ever could. Waiting implied planning.
The conversation turned to logistics routes into Kyoto, how to avoid the Shinto gods' sensors, and how to mask infernal energy signatures with new magic runes. Crom barely listened. His mind drifted to the kick again, to the moment the world went white and he felt divine power focused into something almost surgical. No rage, no grandeur just precision.
That was what scared him most. She hadn't tried to kill him. She'd chosen humiliation instead, as if testing something.
He didn't like being tested.
The meeting dragged on. Maps floated in the air, circles drawn around ley lines and shrines. Someone argued about timing, another about public exposure. Devils bickered, magicians muttered equations, the Fallen traded snide remarks about "divine hypocrisy." The usual noise of conspiracy.
Crom found his gaze wandering to the door, to the shadows at the edge of the room. He could almost feel something watching them, the faint pressure of divine observation. Or maybe it was just paranoia.
When the session finally adjourned, most of the participants left quickly, eager to return to their labs or barracks. Rizevim lingered, humming to himself, plucking a stray thread from his sleeve.
"You're quiet tonight," he said to Crom. "Not your usual smug dragon self."
"Thinking."
"About our little angel problem?"
"About whether you have any idea what you're walking into," Crom replied.
Rizevim grinned. "Always. That's what makes it fun."
The dragon gave him a look, then stood. "You mistake chaos for control. Be careful, Lucifer. Sometimes the storm you summon doesn't listen when you tell it to stop."
Rizevim chuckled, low and amused. "Is that a threat?"
"A warning."
He left before Rizevim could answer.
The corridors outside were quieter now, torches burning with faint violet flame. Crom walked alone, footsteps echoing against the stone, his human disguise flickering slightly as scales shimmered beneath the surface. He could feel eyes following him, engineer devils whispering about his defeat, fallen angels pretending not to stare.
Let them talk. Words didn't matter. Power did.
He reached one of the upper balconies that overlooked the valley. The night air hit him like cold water, carrying the scent of sulfur and rain. In the distance, the experimental fields glowed faintly, rows of devils fitted with cybernetic augmentations, testing their newly forged weapons. The "Engineer Devils," they called them. Artificial evolution.
He watched them for a long while,
"Strong angel," he murmured to himself. "Sure. Keep believing that."
He flexed his hand unconsciously, feeling the ghost of her grip on his wrist. It still ached, phantom pain wrapped in pride. Dragons weren't supposed to fear anything. But fear wasn't the right word for what she'd left him with.
It was a realization.
That there were things older than dragons, things that didn't roar or rage, things that simply were.
He wondered what the Khaos Brigade would do when they learned. Probably tear themselves apart before Heaven even needed to intervene. Rizevim's arrogance, the magicians' greed, the devils' obsession with progress it was a fire burning too hot to control. And now they wanted to throw it at Kyoto.
He sighed, the sound half growl, half tired exhale. The stars above the fortress were faint tonight, veiled by storm clouds.
A voice broke the quiet behind him.
"You're troubled."
Crom turned slightly. Calliel, the Fallen liaison, stood in the doorway, wings folded tight around her shoulders like a cloak.
"You always show up when people want to be alone," he said.
"Bad habit," she replied. "You're usually more talkative in meetings. Something about Kyoto bothering you?"
"Everything about Kyoto bothers me."
Calliel stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "You didn't tell them everything, did you?"
He met her gaze, silent.
"I can read you, dragon," she said softly. "You came back different. You smell like holy fire."
Crom laughed under his breath. "Careful, Fallen. That kind of talk could get you killed in this room."
"I'm serious," she pressed. "Who did you meet?"
He hesitated, then shrugged. "A strong angel."
She didn't buy it, but she also didn't call him on it. Instead, she leaned against the railing beside him, looking out at the storm. "The others think God's returned. They won't say it out loud, but they do. The new angels, the Rider, the Horsemen—they're not Heaven's old patterns. It feels… coordinated. Purposeful. It feels like leadership."
Crom didn't answer.
Calliel glanced at him. "If that's true, if the Old Man really is back, then we're finished. You know that, right?"
He smirked faintly. "You giving up already?"
"I'm pragmatic," she said. "You dragons might love fighting hopeless battles, but I like existing, and after having seen Dad's work in person, I know with him there are fates far worse than death if you piss him off."
"You think existence is guaranteed under Him?"
"More than under Rizevim."
He chuckled, low and rough. "You're not wrong."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the storm clouds shifting over the valley. Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the experimental devils testing their weapons.
Calliel finally spoke again. "When we move to Kyoto, you'll see more of them. Those new angels. Maybe you'll get another shot at your 'strong one.'"
"Maybe."
Her gaze lingered on him, studying his face. "If you're smart, you'll stay out of it."
Crom looked back toward the horizon, eyes glinting faintly with draconic gold. "I'm many things, Fallen. Smart isn't always one of them."
She laughed softly. "At least you're honest."
He didn't respond, and she took the hint, turning to leave. "Try not to die, Crom. Some of us still need your muscle."
When she was gone, Crom stayed where he was, the wind tugging at his coat. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the faint vibration of divine energy still lingering in his bones. Whatever she'd done to him, it had left a mark deeper than magic.
He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a warning.
He opened his eyes again, staring toward Kyoto's direction, though it was far beyond the horizon. Somewhere out there, she was moving, watching, planning. And for the first time in centuries, Crom Cruach wondered if dragons could still be hunted.