The camp was drowned in a heavy silence, as if everyone already knew that what came next had no return. The flames of the campfire burned low, reflecting in the attentive eyes of each one. Raphaella paced in circles around them, her expression more serious than ever. The electric aura surrounding her seemed unstable, crackling in the air like muffled thunder.
— It's decided — she began, her firm voice cutting through the stillness. — Tomorrow you will go to Setealem. But first, I need each of you to be in the correct place for the passage to be possible. It's not just a trip… it's literally a rupture between planes.
Daytona felt her heart accelerate. It wasn't fear, but the anticipation of finally stepping into the domain of the Seven Deadly Kings. She tightened her grip on the sheath of the Köken Akakagami, feeling the blade pulse as if it already sensed her nearing destiny.
Raphaella approached Saravia first, lightly touching the chain of her anchor.
— You will stand at the eastern edge, on the Star Stone. It's an ancient anchoring point where the veil between Heaven and Setealem is thinner. Your strength will stabilize the initial fissure.
Saravia merely nodded, her eyes shining with determination. The presence of Leviathan inside her felt restless, as if the creature already knew it was about to approach its true origin.
Then, Raphaella walked over to Martin, placing a hand on his shoulder.
— You will stay in the north. Your human blood is what keeps us balanced during the rupture. The Ultrahuman power you unlocked will be essential to sustain the passage.
Martin swallowed hard, but tried to smile.
— So I'm holding the gate open, right? Just don't forget to come back.
Raphaella didn't answer. She simply moved on to Nylon. The golden light of his katana reflected the celestial aura around him.
— Nylon, your role is the riskiest. You will remain at the center of the circle. Your Throne-class sword is what will cut the final seal. Without you, the path will never open.
The angel nodded with reverence, though his eyes lingered on Daytona, as if he already knew how painful the passage would be for her.
Finally, Raphaella stopped in front of Daytona.
— You will stand at the southern point, Daytona. Your body already knows Setealem… Belzebub carved it into you. When the rift opens, your power will guide the others so they aren't lost in the void.
Daytona drew a long breath, feeling Belzebub whisper in her mind, soft and almost satisfied:
"Finally… we return."
The group remained silent as Raphaella drew a circle of glowing symbols on the ground, pulsing like living lightning. She raised her hand then and concluded:
— Remember: once you enter Setealem, there are no guarantees of return. Each of you has a role, and if any one of you fails, the entire plan collapses. This will be the greatest descent ever made.
The flames of the fire trembled as if the world itself understood the weight of the mission. And so, that night, they all withdrew quietly, saving their strength for the inevitable dive into the heart of hell.
The night hung heavy over the camp. The fire crackled low, as if it, too, sensed something monumental drawing near. The silence between them wasn't from exhaustion, but expectation. Each of them knew this would be their final night in Heaven before crossing the boundary and entering once more the heart of war: Setealem.
Raphaella was serious — more than ever. Her eyes flickered gold as she finished preparing the luminous symbols carved into the ground. Each mark pulsed like a beating heart, strengthening with each line she traced with her fingertips.
— It's almost ready. — Raphaella didn't look at them. Her voice didn't sound like a simple command, but like an echo filling the entire air.
Daytona, sitting on the edge of a stone, adjusted the Köken Akakagami at her waist and glanced at the others. Martin was tense, but breathing deeply, remembering the fight where he had unlocked his Ultrahuman ability. Saravia slowly sharpened the blade of her anchor, the chain groaning like it was protesting its destiny. Nylon stood in absolute silence, his golden katana resting in its sheath, his blue eyes reflecting unshakable resolve.
Ghost watched from a distance, arms crossed, not participating in the preparations. He knew he wouldn't be going with them. His role would come after — and the responsibility on his shoulders was no smaller. Even so, the emptiness of being left behind gnawed at him.
When the symbols finished glowing, Raphaella finally stood and walked to the center of the circle.
— Listen carefully. — she said. — Each of you was chosen not by chance, but because your destinies are directly tied to this path. What you'll face in Setealem isn't just the reflection of sin… but the reflection of yourselves. If you hesitate, there will be no return.
A tense silence fell. Daytona exchanged a quick look with Martin, a final confirmation that they were ready. Saravia only scoffed lightly, a crooked smirk forming at the corner of her lips.
— As if I had a choice — she muttered, wrapping the chain of her anchor around her arm.
Raphaella took a step back, snapped her right fingers, and instantly the ground began to open beneath each of them.
First came a low sound, like a distant roar. Then, circular cracks formed at their feet, expanding in lines of light cutting through the soil. The campfire blew out instantly — as if the air itself had been swallowed into the void.
— It's time. — Raphaella announced, her voice reverberating.
Without time to react, Daytona felt the ground disappear beneath her. Wind tore against her body as she plunged into the abyss. Her katana vibrated inside its sheath, as if sensing the war waiting ahead.
Martin shouted something, but his voice was consumed by the spiraling darkness surrounding them. He tried to maintain composure, muscles tense as if he could control the fall. Nylon, however, simply closed his eyes and crossed his arms, descending in absolute silence, the golden glow of his sword reflecting off the spirals of energy.
Saravia, meanwhile, didn't scream, didn't hesitate. She opened her arms, letting the chain of the anchor reel and swing freely as she fell, facing the abyss with unwavering eyes.
The walls of the void around them pulsed like living flesh fused with darkness. Time was impossible to measure — every second stretched into an eternity. The descent wasn't just physical; there was something spiritual at play, as if they were passing through layers of reality itself.
Then, far below, a faint red glow appeared. The abyss roared even louder, like a waking inferno.
The fall ended abruptly.
Saravia landed first, her feet touching the ground with firm precision, the chain of the anchor scraping across the harsh, scorching earth. She lifted her head and saw what stood before her:
The Ring of Lust.