White wings encircled from all directions. Not just three or five—dozens. They came from behind the ruins, from atop the debris, from the sky that was beginning to darken. Their eyes glowed with piercing holy light.
Leon stood in the center of that circle, Sylvaine still in his arms. Beside him, Fenrith growled low, his fur bristling. In the distance, a spatial rift opened—Valker began stepping out, his greatsword in hand.
"My Lord called?"
Leon didn't answer. His eyes swept the surroundings, counting. Twelve. Perhaps more.
"There are too many, boy," Satan whispered. "What's the strategy?"
Leon didn't answer. His arms tightened around Sylvaine.
One of the Angels stepped forward. His wings were broader than the others, his armor shimmering faintly. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Hand over the girl. And we won't need to kill you."
Leon didn't answer.
"You don't understand your situation, little demon." The Angel smiled faintly. "You're alone. Surrounded. And what you're carrying—"
"She's not the girl." Leon cut in, his voice cold. "She's Sylvaine."
The Angel chuckled softly. "Sylvaine, that girl, what's the difference? She belongs to us. Angel blood flows through her veins. And you..." he looked Leon up and down, "...are just a low-class demon who happened to be in the wrong place."
"Control your anger," Satan whispered.
Leon took a breath. Slowly, he lowered Sylvaine. Laid her against a still-sturdy wall. Checked her breathing—still there. The pendant on her neck still glowed faintly.
"I'll come back," he whispered. "Promise."
He stood. Beside him, Fenrith flexed his claws, ready to pounce. Valker raised his greatsword, standing at Leon's other side.
"You sure?" Satan asked.
Leon took a breath. "No. But there's no choice."
The Angel raised his hand. "Kill the demon. Take the girl."
---
The first Angel attacked from the front. A blade of light shot swiftly, thrusting toward Leon's chest.
Leon dodged. His body spun, and in an instant, he was behind the Angel. One slash—his sword split the white wing.
The Angel screamed, falling.
But the others had already moved. Two Angels from the sides, three from above. Leon used precognition—flashes of the future appeared in his mind. He dodged, countered, moved among them like a shadow.
Fenrith also pounced on one Angel trying to attack from behind. His fangs bit into the white wing, tearing it. The Angel screamed, crashing to the ground.
Valker stood before two Angels, his sword raised. "You will not touch my Lord."
The Angels laughed. "You're just a walking corpse."
"Perhaps." Valker stepped forward, his sword spinning. "But this corpse won't die twice."
His sword slashed. The Angel fell.
But there were too many. For every Angel that fell, two appeared to replace it. Leon began to tire. His teleportation slowed. His precognition blurred. Blood flowed from wounds on his arm, his back, his thigh.
"Boy, you can't—"
"I know!" Leon cut in. His breath came in gasps. "But I won't surrender!"
One Angel broke through. His light blade aimed for Leon's chest—
Leon couldn't dodge in time.
But within him, something stirred.
Not Satan's voice. Not any ability he had learned. Not teleportation, precognition, or soul detection. This was something deeper.
Darkness no longer flowed from his palms. It emanated from his body. From every pore. From every wound.
The Angel froze. His blade stopped before Leon's chest—unable to advance, unable to retreat.
"What—"
Leon raised his hand. Not to attack, but to... restrain.
"Go."
A wave of darkness exploded from his body. The Angel was hurled back, crashing among the ruins. Two other Angels too close were swept away, their bodies slamming into debris.
Leon gasped for breath. His body trembled. He didn't know what he had just done.
"That's... not an ability I taught you."
"I... don't know." Leon stared at his hands. Darkness still flowed at his fingertips, but slowly began to recede. "I just... didn't want to die here."
"That's instinct," Satan whispered. "Survival instinct. From someone who refuses to die."
Leon had no time to ponder. The remaining Angels—perhaps seven or eight—took a step back. They saw their fallen comrades, then looked at Leon warily.
But they didn't flee.
The remaining white wings gathered, forming a formation. And from the center of that formation, a figure stepped forward.
His wings were larger than the others. Far larger. His armor gleamed with golden light, reflecting the sunlight beginning to break through the grey clouds. His face was beautiful, but cold. His eyes were pale blue, devoid of emotion, devoid of mercy.
He looked at Leon. Not with anger, not with hatred. Only with... disinterest. Like looking at an insect on the road.
"Finally," he said, his voice like cracking ice. "I found you."
Leon raised his sword. But he knew—this Angel was different. The aura radiating from him made his knees feel weak.
"Boy," Satan whispered. His tone was serious. More serious than ever. "This Angel... is on a different level."
Leon didn't answer. He couldn't answer. His mouth felt dry, his hands trembling.
The Angel stepped forward. One step. Two steps. Each step felt like a hammer striking Leon's chest.
"You're wasting my time," he said. "But it's fine. The girl will be taken. And you..." he raised his hand, light beginning to gather in his palm. "...will die here."
Leon bit his lip. He couldn't run. Behind him, Sylvaine still lay unconscious.
"I won't run," he whispered.
"Boy—"
I won't run.
He raised his sword, though his hands trembled. "Try me."
The Angel smiled. Not a friendly smile. A cold smile. "Foolish bravery."
The light in his palm blazed brighter.
=== CHAPTER 13 END ===