The plaza had not yet recovered from the demonic arrival and fate was not yet finished with the morning. Just as the shadow of hell began to blend into the living chaos of Asmaphaeri, a golden beam split the sky. It struck the plaza just a few paces away from the demonic entourage, lighting up the space with a gentle boom.
Heads turned again. Eyes widened again. The heavens descended.
White carriages, elegant and impossibly luminous, began to drift downward from the clouds. They didn't fall. They glided, carried by radiant pegasi, their wings pure white and lined with gold, their hooves leaving trails of glimmering light across the air. There were six carriages in total, each driven by two pegasi each.
Five of them were uniform in size but the sixth was bigger, laced with light that pulsed with benevolence. At its front, the symbol of Dynasty Andelaris flapped softly in the warm Anqerise breeze.
The emblem of Naranq, the upper realm of Spheraphase was that of six angel wings and a shield. The carriages came to a halt directly across from the demonic convoy.
Whereas the demon arrival felt like the air was being held hostage, this felt like the world was holding its breath for a reunion, one it wasn't sure it had permission to witness.
The angels were first to step out.
They emerged from the five smaller carriages, clad in flowing white robes. They had no armor or weapons, just calm expressions and warm smiles.
They looked to the demons and waved.
The demons stared back. For a moment, there was stillness. Even among high-ranking demons, seeing angels waving like old friends wasn't something they had prepared for.
"They're waving?" One demon muttered, visibly stunned.
"They know we're demons, right?"
"They're still waving."
But the one who responded first without hesitation was the horned demoness who had previously asked for orders. She raised her hand then waved back.
Suddenly, laughter bubbled through the demon ranks. The angels began to descend fully, stepping lightly onto the plaza floor. Not a single drop of hostility was in their wings. The leader of the angels, a tall man with silver eyes and a sun-marked sash approached the Grand Duchess and bowed.
"Your Grace. It is an honor to be in your presence once more."
And right then, the mortal crowd absolutely lost its collective mind.
"Wait. WHAT?!"
"She's the Duchess of Hell!"
"Why are ANGELS bowing?!"
"She flaps her wings and apologizes. They show up and bow. Am I dead? Is this heaven?"
"No, this is worse! This is politics."
A noblewoman dropped her iced herbal wine onto her shoes. Even street kids who had grown up stealing bread stared wide-eyed, their jaws dropped. One man physically grabbed the nearest stranger and asked:
"Is this normal now?! Do angels and demons just hang out now?!"
And yet none of it was a hallucination. The Grand Duchess tilted her head.
"It's been a while. How's Naranq faring?"
The angel smiled. "Peacefully and prosperously. Your training… was not wasted."
A flicker of mischief sparked in the Duchess's expression.
"Oh? I recall your sword work being clumsy at best."
"You were terrifying," another angel said with a grin. "But it worked. We've never had another celestial incursion on our side since."
She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I only teach one way."
The angels nodded with visible respect and that broke the mortals even more.
"Combat training? The Duchess of Hell trained angels?!"
"How do I explain this to my grandma? She still thinks demons eat souls and angels sing all day."
The sixth carriage opened but the air changed instantly.
Light poured forth from the open carriage. It was light so pure and refined but it didn't blind or scorch. It made mortals fall to their knees without knowing why. The crowd dropped like feathers caught in divine wind.
Priests, merchants, guards, scholars, soldiers, tourists, even the city's political elite watching from elevated balconies sank into bows. The angels knelt with no hesitation. Only the demons remained upright and not out of disrespect. No demon, not even the Duchess herself, bowed to a heavenly being.
From the glowing doorway of the carriage, two figures emerged.
The Heavenly Sisters. The Twin Monarchesses of Naranq. Two of the Triarchs of Heaven.
They stepped in perfect sync, barefooted yet never touching the ground. Their long golden hair cascaded behind them, their complex braids woven with chains of holy crystal and golden thread. Their pale skin was as flawless as usual, and their crimson eyes shimmered too.They were identical in every feature, forged from the highest blood of heaven. Except for their wings of course.
Each of the twin Monarchesses bore four majestic wings, folded neatly behind their shoulders. But where one sister's wings were pure white, the other's were black and cloaked in void darker even than the Grand Duchess's.
The Heavenly Sisters floated toward the center of the plaza and to the one being who had not bowed not because she refused, but because she had no reason to.
"Peronceream"
Without warning they rushed forward and hugged her, one from each side, their arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders like they were children finding home after centuries apart.
"It's been five years!" The white-winged one said.
"It's been too long!" The dark-winged one added.
The crowd erupted in a soundless shockwave. Even the angels stiffened, their eyes darting between each other like their brains had short-circuited. Even the demons twitched in visible disbelief.
The Grand Duchess of Wisterix was… embracing the rulers of Heaven? Peroncerea Ceres, Royal Succubus of the Demons was being hugged like an older sister returned from exile?
Peroncerea chuckled softly, her radiant blue eyes narrowing. She wrapped one arm around each of the sisters and returned the hug, but not without patting their heads. She was extremely tall now.
"Don't pour Divine Energy into me when you hug, darlings. I'm still a demon, remember?"
The twin Monarchesses gasped in unison and immediately stepped back.
"Ah—!"
"S-sorry!"
"We forgot!"
"We got excited!"
The way they pouted broke the last few mortal minds still clinging to logic.
"Wait," one angel whispered to another, "does that mean… she's older than them?"
"Don't be stupid," a demon muttered, eyes narrowing. "She looks too young."
"She feels older."
"She acts like a big sister."
"I thought the Monarchesses were the oldest living Divines of the Third Generation?"
"They're the oldest from Heaven. That doesn't mean... wait are you saying the Duchess—"
"What the actual hell is happening?" A merchant screamed, clutching his bald head in absolute agony. "IS SHE A GODDESS OR A WARLORD OR WHAT?!"
A child tugged her father's robe. "Is she the Queen of Heaven now?"
The father stared, his mouth open.
"I... I don't know, sweetie."
Peroncerea sighed softly and folded her massive black wings with a gentle rustle, the movement sending another breeze across the plaza. She adjusted her hip-plate, as if all the divine madness around her was just a casual annoyance.
"You two haven't changed. You're still clingy."
The white-winged twin giggled. "And you're still impossible to read. And you're taller too. What have you been eating these part five years?"
The dark-winged twin added, "But you're glowing more now. Did something happen?"
Peroncerea smiled. "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's go. I can already sense Narisva's presence."