"First wave targets destroyed," Sirzechs reported from his station. "Enemy communication network is down ninety-three percent. They're effectively cut off from coordinated response."
"Deploy ground forces," Algernon ordered. "Secure the outer perimeter, then advance on primary objectives."
Three thousand transport ships descended from the fleet like falling stars. As they approached the ground, their cargo bays opened, and demons and Vampires poured forth—not in a chaotic rush, but in perfect military formations that spoke of months of drilling and preparation.
They hit the ground and immediately began executing their pre-planned assault patterns.
The Grigori garrison, still reeling from the orbital bombardment, tried to mount a defense. Fallen Angels took to the air, their light-based weapons blazing as they attempted to repel the invasion.
They were hopelessly outnumbered.
For every Fallen Angel that took flight, there were a hundred demons waiting to drag them down. Magical artillery hammered their positions. Elite strike teams teleported behind their lines, sowing chaos and confusion. The sheer weight of numbers was overwhelming.
"Resistance at the eastern perimeter is collapsing," Falbium reported, his tactical display showing the Grigori defensive line crumbling in real-time. "Third and Seventh Legions are advancing ahead of schedule."
"Western perimeter breached," Ajuka added. "Twelfth Legion has secured the auxiliary power station."
"Northern approach cleared. Fifth Legion is preparing to assault the main complex."
Report after report flooded in, each one telling the same story: the Grigori was being crushed.
Algernon absorbed the information without emotion, his eyes tracking the overall strategic picture. Everything was proceeding exactly as he had planned.
"Time to target objectives?" he asked.
"At current pace, all primary objectives will be secured within four hours," Grayfia replied. "Well ahead of our six-hour window."
"Then accelerate the timeline," Algernon decided.
He turned to a specific display that showed a more detailed tactical view of the Grigori command center—the heavily fortified structure at the heart of their headquarters where Azazel and the other Cadres were undoubtedly coordinating their defense.
"Vali," Algernon said, activating a direct communication link to his White Dragon Emperor. "It's time. Secure Azazel."
Inside the Grigori command center, Vali Lucifer had been standing silently at the edge of the room throughout the crisis, watching the chaos unfold with barely concealed amusement.
When Algernon's voice whispered directly into his mind through the communication spell, Vali's smile widened.
Finally.
"Azazel," Vali said, his voice cutting through the controlled panic of the command center. "We need to talk."
The Governor of the Grigori turned, his expression harried. "Not now, Vali. In case you haven't noticed, we're under attack."
"Oh, I've noticed," Vali replied, his tone almost cheerful. "That's what I want to talk about."
Something in his voice made Azazel pause. Made everyone in the command center pause.
"What are you—" Azazel began.
Vali's Sacred Gear activated.
{Divine Dividing}
Silver light exploded from his back as twelve ethereal wings materialized—the Wings of the White Dragon Emperor. His aura surged, filling the room with oppressive power that made every Fallen Angel present instinctively step back.
"I'm afraid I've been somewhat dishonest with you, Azazel," Vali said, his polite smile never wavering. "You see, I don't actually work for the Grigori anymore."
Comprehension dawned on Azazel's face, followed immediately by fury. "You... you were feeding them intelligence. The entire time."
"Give the man a prize," Vali replied mockingly. "Every report I filed, every briefing I gave, every piece of information I shared—it all went straight to Algernon. You never had a chance."
"TRAITOR!" Baraqiel roared, his own aura exploding as he prepared to attack.
But Vali was faster.
{Divide!}
The power of the Divine Dividing washed over Baraqiel, cutting his strength in half. He staggered, shock crossing his face as he felt his own energy being drained.
"I'm sorry, Baraqiel," Vali said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "But I have orders. His Majesty wants Azazel alive, and I intend to deliver."
Then the wall exploded.
Through the smoking hole came Issei Hyoudou, his Boosted Gear blazing crimson as he surveyed the room with wild eyes.
{BOOST! BOOST! BOOST!}
"Sorry we're late!" Issei announced cheerfully. " So... who wants to surrender peacefully?"
The looks on the Fallen Angels' faces suggested that surrender was not high on their priority list.
"Excellent," Issei grinned, his aura spiking even higher. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The two Dragon Emperors stood side by side, their combined presence so overwhelming that the very air seemed to warp around them.
And behind them, through the hole in the wall, came the elite soldiers of the Imperial Guard—the finest warriors of the Azeroth Empire, each one handpicked and trained to perfection.
Azazel looked at the overwhelming force arrayed against him, at his command center in shambles, at the tactical displays showing his defenses crumbling across the board.
For the first time in his very long life, the Governor of the Grigori felt something he hadn't experienced since the darkest days of the Great War.
Genuine fear.
Issei moved first, his body blurring with speed that would have been impossible for him just a year ago.
{BOOST! BOOST! BOOST! BOOST!}
The Boosted Gear's familiar chant echoed through the room as Issei's aura exploded outward, crimson energy crackling around him like living lightning.
A Fallen Angel Cadre lunged at him, light spear blazing with holy energy. Issei didn't even bother dodging. His gauntleted fist shot forward, and the impact sent the Cadre crashing through three reinforced walls before he finally stopped, unconscious and broken.
"Next!" Issei called out, his voice carrying an edge of wild excitement that Ddraig had definitely influenced.
{Partner, try to remember we need them alive,} Ddraig's voice rumbled in his mind.
{Right, right. Alive. Got it.}
Vali, meanwhile, had already engaged Baraqiel.
{DIVIDE! DIVIDE! DIVIDE!}
Each pulse of the Divine Dividing cut Baraqiel's power in half, and the stolen energy flowed into Vali, making him stronger with each passing second. The fundamental imbalance of their Sacred Gears was on full display—where Ddraig accumulated power gradually through boosts, Albion could instantly cripple opponents while empowering himself.
Baraqiel gritted his teeth, feeling his strength draining away like water through a sieve.
"You've gotten stronger," Baraqiel acknowledged, his yellow eyes narrowing as he analyzed his deteriorating situation. "When did you reach Super Devil class?"
"Just Recently," Vali replied casually, dodging a desperate lightning strike with minimal effort. "Though I should thank you for all those training sessions. They were quite educational."
He blurred forward, faster than Baraqiel could track, and his fist slammed into the older Fallen Angel's guard with enough force to crack bones. Baraqiel was sent skidding backward, his arms trembling from the impact.
"Of course," Vali continued conversationally, as if they weren't in the middle of a fight, "I was holding back during those sessions. Didn't want to reveal my true capabilities before the invasion."
Baraqiel's eyes widened. "You... you were a spy from the beginning?"
"From the very beginning," Vali confirmed, his smile sharp and cruel.
The betrayal hit Baraqiel harder than any physical blow. He'd mentored Vali, trusted him, even grown fond of the arrogant young man. And it had all been an act.
"You bastard," Baraqiel snarled, his holy lightning intensifying as rage temporarily overcame his tactical sense. "I trusted you!"
"And that was your mistake," Vali replied without emotion. {DIVIDE!}
Baraqiel's surge of power was cut in half before it could even manifest. He stumbled, feeling the weight of accumulated power drains finally catching up to him. His vision swam, his wings flickering unstably.
Vali appeared behind him, one hand resting almost gently on Baraqiel's shoulder.
"You're done," Vali stated simply. Then his other hand struck—a precise blow to the base of Baraqiel's skull that would incapacitate without killing.
Baraqiel collapsed, consciousness fading as he hit the floor.
"Bind him," Vali ordered the Imperial Guard soldiers who immediately rushed forward with specialized restraints.
Across the room, Issei was handling his own opponents with similar efficiency, though with considerably less finesse.
Three more Cadre-class Fallen Angels had engaged him simultaneously, their coordination speaking to years of working together. They attacked from different angles, trying to overwhelm him through superior numbers and tactics.
{BOOST! BOOST! EXPLOSION!}
Issei released the accumulated power in a controlled burst the focused shockwave that sent all three Cadres flying backward. Before they could recover, he was on them.
He grabbed one Cadre by the wing and slammed him into the floor hard enough to crack the reinforced concrete. A spinning kick caught the second across the jaw, the impact producing an audible crack of bone. The third managed to get a light spear thrust toward Issei's chest—
{BOOST!}
—only for Issei to catch it mid-flight, the holy energy sizzling harmlessly against his demonic aura, and crush it in his gauntleted fist.
"Seriously?" Issei asked, almost disappointed. "You guys are Cadre-class? I expected more of a fight."
The Fallen Angel's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gap between them. Before he could retreat, Issei's fist was already in motion.
The blow sent him crashing into his two companions, all three collapsing in an unconscious heap.
"Restrain them," Issei ordered the waiting Imperial Guards. "And get me more opponents. This is barely a warm-up."
At the center of the chaos stood Azazel, the Governor of the Grigori, watching his defenses crumble with a mixture of rage and calculating assessment.
His twelve black wings were fully manifested, crackling with golden holy energy that lit up the damaged command center like a miniature sun. Despite the overwhelming assault, despite the betrayals and the collapsing defensive lines, Azazel's mind was still working—still analyzing, still searching for a way to turn this disaster around.
"Vali," Azazel said, his voice cutting through the battle with supernatural clarity. "I don't suppose there's any chance of negotiation?"
Vali paused in securing Baraqiel's restraints, looking up with an expression of mild amusement. "Negotiate? With what leverage, exactly? Your headquarters is surrounded by soldiers, your defensive wards are suppressed, and your Cadres are being systematically captured or killed."
"Fair point," Azazel conceded. "But you should know that I don't surrender easily."
His aura exploded outward with such intensity that even Issei and Vali were momentarily forced back. The golden light coalesced around Azazel's hands, forming twin spears of concentrated holy energy that hummed with barely contained power.
"I've survived the Great War," Azazel continued, his usual casual demeanor completely gone. "I've faced God Himself in battle. I've outlived empires and seen civilizations rise and fall. Did you really think I'd go down without a fight?"
Vali's smile widened. "Actually, I was hoping you'd say that."
{BALANCE BREAKER!}
{BALANCE BREAKER!}
The two Dragon Emperors activated their Sacred Gears' ultimate forms simultaneously.
The two stood side by side, their combined presence so overwhelming that the remaining conscious Fallen Angels in the command center unconsciously backed away.
"Governor Azazel," Issei said, his voice resonating with power. "By order of Emperor Algernon Azeroth, you are under arrest for crimes against the Azeroth Empire, including harboring war criminals and orchestrating attacks against Imperial territories."
Azazel actually laughed—a bitter, weary sound. "War criminals? Orchestrated attacks? You mean the Kokabiel incident? You do realize that was your Emperor's setup from the beginning, right?"
"Doesn't matter," Vali interjected. "Kokabiel is a member of your organization. His actions are your responsibility. That's how this works."
"So that's the game," Azazel said quietly, understanding finally clicking into place. "Algernon manufactured a justification for invasion, and now he's using it to justify conquest. Brilliant, in a completely ruthless sort of way."
He looked around at his destroyed command center, at his captured subordinates, at the overwhelming force arrayed against him.
"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I had nothing to do with Kokabiel's attack?"
"Probably not," Issei admitted. "But honestly? It doesn't matter. This was always going to happen. The Emperor wanted the Grigori, and what the Emperor wants, the Emperor gets."
Azazel's expression hardened. "Then I guess we do this the hard way."