The night slowly fell over the improvised camp. Heaven, even in war, seemed to sigh in silence; the breeze carried the metallic scent of the past battle, mixed with the distant sound of angelic voices, like a buried choir beneath layers of wind.
Daytona sat near the campfire, her sword still stuck in the ground beside her. Her crimson eyes reflected the flames, but her mind was somewhere else. Nylon, seated across from her, sharpened his golden katana in silence, as if it were an extension of his own breath.
Martin dozed off, leaning against a rock, still exhausted from the earlier shock. Meanwhile, Saravia paced in circles, restless, trying to deal with the built-up tension.
It was then that Raphaella appeared. Her presence made the fire tremble, tiny lightning bolts slithering through the strands of her hair.
— Gather. — her voice was not a request.
Daytona straightened. Nylon put down his sword. Even Martin, half-asleep, forced himself to stand. Everyone knew: when Raphaella spoke, there was no room for distractions.
The Cherub gazed at the group in silence for a moment, as if measuring each soul present.
— The victory against me was only the prelude. — she said, her voice heavy with gravity. — To defeat Raydillon, you will need more than strength. You will need sacrifices.
Silence fell over the camp. Even the wind stopped.
— Raydillon cannot be harmed by any kind of weapon, not even by the power of a lone archangel, nor by a capital sin or an Ars Goetia. His essence is rooted in the core of Heaven. To touch him… — she raised her hand, thunder pulsing in her palm — you need a sort of catalyst, so to speak.
Daytona frowned. — A catalyst?
— Yes. The blood of the Seven Kings of Setealem. — Raphaella said firmly. — Every drop contains the root of demonic creation. Only by uniting this blood will it be possible to wound Raydillon, corrupting him.
Saravia gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. Martin straightened, eyes widened.
— You're saying… — Martin murmured — …that we have to kill all of them?
Raphaella nodded slowly.
— All the Capital Sins… except two.
Daytona lifted her gaze, feeling the weight of the revelation before it was spoken.
— Belzebub and Leviathan will not need to be killed. — Raphaella continued. — They have already chosen their paths. In fact, they will offer their blood to you since they are your companions, Daytona and Saravia.
Daytona's heart raced. Belzebub's name pulsed inside her mind like a forbidden echo, and for a moment she felt the familiar weight of the demon within her stir.
Saravia, on the other hand, closed her eyes, absorbing Leviathan's name in silence.
— This is insane… — Saravia whispered. — Do you even understand what you're saying? Facing each King… that's like asking to die!
Nylon looked at her sideways, cold as always. — It's not about wanting to or not. It's the only route.
Martin clenched his fists, trying to look brave, but his voice still trembled:
— And if we fail?
Raphaella walked to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. The touch, electric, made Martin shiver.
— Then there will be nothing. No Heaven, no Earth. Only ashes.
Silence fell again. Only the crackling of the fire filled the space.
Daytona lifted her eyes, staring at Raphaella. Her voice came out firm, yet shadowed:
— And what happens to us… after we gather this blood?
Raphaella hesitated for a second. It was quick, but Daytona noticed.
— This journey is not just a mission. — she said, lowering her tone. — It is a sentence. Whoever begins it cannot turn back.
She walked slowly to the fire, letting the glow illuminate her serene yet tragic face.
Then she fixed her gaze on Daytona.
— Do you accept to carry this? — her voice cut the air, heavy like thunder. — Even if you must become something worse than them?
The world seemed to stop. The flames danced in Daytona's crimson gaze. The silence of her companions weighed heavily, each one waiting for the answer.
The scene froze there, on the brink of the decision.
The sky in Heaven remained clear, but in the camp, the atmosphere was heavy. The group was still recovering from the previous revelations when Raphaella gathered them all again. She didn't smile, nor did she use the calm, almost maternal tone from before; now her posture was serious, rigid, like a commander preparing soldiers for an impossible war.
They all sat in a circle. The campfire, still burning with remnants of the previous dinner, cast soft flames that reflected in their attentive eyes. Daytona rested her chin on her hand, Martin looked uneasy, Saravia spun the chain of her anchor between her fingers as if sensing her role, and Nylon, silent, kept the golden katana resting on his knees. Ghost, on the other hand, remained still, his narrowed eyes watching Raphaella as if trying to anticipate her every word.
— You already know that the blood of the Seven Sins will be the key to stopping Raydillon — Raphaella began, her grave voice echoing like distant thunder. — But collecting the blood won't be enough. The real challenge will come afterward.
A heavy silence hung in the air. Daytona narrowed her eyes.
— What are you hiding? — she asked.
Raphaella walked slowly to Ghost and placed her hand on his shoulder. The gesture made everyone hold their breath.
— You, Ghost, will be responsible for preparing the antidote. Only someone with your meticulous mind and experience will be able to combine the Sins' blood and turn it into an essence capable of weakening Raydillon.
The strategist did not react immediately, but his jaw tightened.
— If I fail, we all die.
— You won't fail — said Raphaella, leaving no room for doubt. — You don't have that right.
Martin swallowed hard, glancing at Daytona.
— This seems way too risky. I mean… even for us.
Saravia lifted her anchor, the tungsten gleaming in the firelight.
— And where do I come into this?
Raphaella approached her, looking directly into the eyes of the girl guided by Leviathan.
— After the antidote is prepared, we'll need to restrain Raydillon. You, Saravia, are the only one capable of containing such force. Your chains, tied to Leviathan's power, will be the trap that gives Ghost the chance to act.
The fire crackled as if answering those words.
— Then I'll hold him — murmured Saravia, serious, clenching the chain tightly. — Even if it costs me my life.
Daytona clenched her fists.
— Don't say that. None of us will die in this fight.
Raphaella nodded, but didn't ease the weight.
— It won't just be holding him. You will have to take Raydillon to Setealem.
Everyone's eyes widened. Nylon was the first to speak:
— Setealem? This is madness.
— The Ring of Wrath, to be exact — Raphaella added. — Raydillon is driven by purity, and only in the heart of the Ring of Wrath will his essence begin to corrode. With the antidote running through his veins and the influence of that environment, he will start to weaken, slowly… until we can destroy him.
The silence that followed was almost suffocating.
Ghost finally broke it.
— So… I make the antidote, Saravia restrains him, and we all drag him into hell.
— Exactly. — Raphaella nodded. — But don't fool yourselves: this is only the skeleton of the plan. There are still variables you are not ready to hear… not yet.
Daytona took a deep breath, her crimson eyes reflecting the flames.
— Then prepare us. Because if this is the only way, we go to the end.
Raphaella looked at each of the six gathered, as if engraving the weight of the responsibility into their souls.
— Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we begin the path to hunt the first of the Sins.
The flames suddenly rose, illuminating the group's serious faces. None of them spoke another word, but all knew: the war against Raydillon had begun in that very instant.