The war between Heaven and Hell had lasted so long that even the light was tired.
Above the fiery clouds, angels and demons still clashed, waves of spiritual power shaking the sky.
But in that storm, seven pairs of souls began to hesitate.
No one said anything, but the look between them – in that brief moment of battle – was different from before.
It was no longer just hatred.
It was something unnameable, making their hearts heavy as if they were being squeezed by the strings of fate.
Then one day, the Heavenly Lord spoke.
That sound penetrated all realms, resounding in the endless space of light:
"Oh angels.
Hell has gone beyond the limits of darkness.
Summon the Holy Seal, and purge them from all realms."
The words were like a sentence.
The Holy Seal—the absolute symbol of Heaven's power—when opened, would burn away not only the body but also the very essence of the demon's existence.
No more reincarnation. No more memories.
Only ashes, drifting in the void.
Heaven rejoiced.
But the seven angels were silent at the same time.
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Michael stood before the gate of light, his hands gripping the sword that had fought with her for thousands of years.
She should have felt reassured, but in her eyes, the image of Lucifer still appeared—not as a rebel, but as someone who had seen the weariness hidden in the light.
Not a word was exchanged, but that look still haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
Now, she was about to use her own light to erase it.
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Gabriel sat silently in the sanctuary, where thousands of white lilies bloomed.
She had thought purity was absolute, that nothing could tarnish her soul.
Yet every time she encountered Asmodeus, his eyes – burning in the darkness – filled her with a strange fear: fear that she was trembling, without knowing why.
Now, she was ordered to destroy him.
She should be happy… but for some reason, her hand trembled.
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Metatron – the angel of charity– sat writing the Laws, each word falling heavily on the page.
She remembered Mammon's face, always tense and anxious, as if afraid that everything around him would disappear.
She did not understand why, in the cold of the battlefield, he made her feel so close.
Perhaps because in his eyes, she saw a reflection of the emptiness she had hidden.
But the Holy Seal had been summoned, and she – without understanding the feeling – had to kill him.
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Raphael walked between the white stone columns, where the wind whistled like a warning.
She was the embodiment of temperance—the one who restrains desire, the one who keeps the balance of heaven.
But in the gray clouds of memory, the figure of Beelzebub still existed: his cold face, his weary eyes that seemed to contain the hunger of the world.
He never pleaded, never made excuses, only looked at her silently.
And that, strangely, frightened her.
Not because of him, but because of the wavering in her heart.
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Uriel, the angel of patience, sat by the clear lake.
She had believed that steadfastness was salvation. But when he saw Behemoth, his rage was more than sin—it was a hidden fear.
Once, in the middle of battle, he stopped when he saw her wounded.
No one noticed, no one said anything.
But Uriel remembered.
And because she remembered, she wondered if she would be able to wield her sword when the Holy Seal was bestowed.
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Sariel – the angel of kindness– could not find sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Leviathan, his eyes as dark as the abyss.
He was envious, he was jealous, he hated everyone – even herself.
And for a moment, she felt… pity?
No, perhaps understanding.
But it was enough to make her afraid – because the mercy she had always prided herself on was beginning to waver.
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Sandalphon still roamed the heavens, trying to do more, to save more, as if trying to escape something.
Every time she stopped, she remembered Belphegor, who always slept in the midst of chaos, his eyes half-closed as if watching the world through a dream.
He was lazy, evasive, and weak.
But it was his indifference that made her feel pain.
Now, she had to be the one to wake him… with the sword of judgement.
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Seven angels, seven hearts wavering between duty and vague emotions they dare not name.
The heavens prepare for Judgment Day, and the Holy Seal gradually shines like a second sun.
But amidst that bright light, deep in the heart of each angel, a small darkness is growing –
where they are no longer sure that the light is always right.