No one escapes illness.
Unless, of course, they are no longer human.
A group of military officials stood before the church emissary, pressing him with nervous curiosity.
"Do we really have to swallow sothing... or swear so sort of cursed oath to join the Church?" one of them asked.
Hannahsi replied in a calm, even tone, "I believe I’ve made it very clear what is required to join. There’s a well-known saying in our Church:
’True divinity cannot be fathod or asured by mankind.’
Because God is above all.
Any other god—before the Eternal God—is a hypocrite, a charlatan.
They need rituals, temples, objects of power—anything to amplify their so-called greatness.
That in itself proves their insignificance.
But our God? We do not force anyone. All who enter the Church are brothers to ."
After finishing, he leapt backward and vanished through the window.
Though his body was plump, his agility—hundreds of tis more fluid than an ape’s—left the entire room stunned into silence.
"General Maisel," said a hawk-nosed senator with a smirk, "our political faction intends to join the Eternal Church. It saves money, saves ti—and only a fool would refuse."
The rest nodded in agreent.
Clearly, they had been won over.
Angels and demons were no longer myths—they had seen them firsthand.
If even those stories were true... then what else might be possible?
Only a god can stand against another god.
Most of them secretly assud the Eternal God was just another superpower trying to intervene in human affairs.
But what truly satisfied these old political foxes?
The Eternal Church didn’t try to take their power away.
And when guns and bombs were no longer effective against heresy... well, what other option was left?
The following day.
The na of the Eternal Church exploded into public view.
Events of truly epoch-making significance always send shockwaves through the world.
Especially the incident involving the Angel Gabriel, who had been publicly captured and exposed.
Outrage rippled through the Catholic population. Many accused the Eternal Church of blasphemy and feared it would bring global catastrophe.
Thus, a modern-day holy war began.
Surprisingly, many of the politicians and bureaucrats who had long upheld Catholicism turned against it, instead voicing unwavering support for the Eternal Church.
"We can’t let them be so arrogant!"
"That’s right... The Eternal Church is just the devil in disguise! We must rescue the angel!"
"If we save Lord Gabriel, we’ll be honored in Heaven! I’d die for that honor!"
"Everyone, gather your weapons! We’re going to destroy this demonic cult!!!"
On the top floor of a high-rise building, two figures sat near the window, watching the chaos unfold below.
The shouting was loud and clear, echoing up from the streets.
Constantine glanced sideways at his companion and smiled.
"You still think the world is unshakable? Water wears down even the hardest stone. No matter how strong a wall is, it will eventually crack."
Capturing the Angel Gabriel had shaken the heavens.
And now, another angel had appeared.
Only, this one was smarter—constantly jumping between hosts, never revealing his true form.
They called him the Son of God.
To mortals, these so-called gods appeared intelligent, radiant, and holy.
But in truth?
They were all just tools of the Son of God.
Midnight snorted coldly. Disgust shimred in her eyes.
"There are always traitors—whether angel or human. Who would’ve thought the real betrayer of mankind... was us?"
When humans are driven to desperation, they make extre choices.
They’ll call upon angels—or demons.
But invoking such entities is one thing... banishing them is another.
None of these beings depart willingly.
And over ti, cracks will start to appear in the very fabric of the world.
This was sothing even Midnight hadn’t anticipated.
"I really don’t get it," she said. "You just had to hold a ritual. Why broadcast it on national TV?
What could you possibly gain from this?"
She was clearly displeased with Constantine’s strategy.
To her, it was reckless.
Catholicism had followers not just in the country—but across the entire world.
This was like kicking a hornet’s nest.
The backlash would be imnse.
Constantine gave a faint smile, flicked away his cigarette, and said confidently, "That’s exactly the reaction I wanted. But we’re just getting started... It’s not hot enough yet."
The glowing ember from his cigarette traced a glowing arc through the air before vanishing into the darkness below.
Protests. Demonstrations. Riots.
The spirit of "freedom and democracy" was on full display.
So radical groups even tried to storm the headquarters of the Eternal Church.
But just as they reached the parking lot—
A handso man appeared beside one of their trucks.
He punched it once, crumpling the tal like paper.
BOOM.
In an instant, the angry mob fell silent.
"You can continue your tantrum," the man said with a cold smile, "but please—don’t interrupt our worship, okay?"
There was arrogance in his tone. And overwhelming disdain.
Suddenly—bang!
A shot rang out from the shadows.
A sniper!
That was everyone’s first thought.
But then—Ding!
A blinding flash of white light flickered in mid-air.
The bullet had been split in half and dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Before the crowd could even react—
The mysterious believer had vanished.
Then—
"No...!"
A blood-curdling scream echoed as a severed, steaming head was flung onto the road, landing beside a discarded sniper rifle.
In that mont, all the passion... all the fanaticism evaporated.
No matter how bold soone acts when waving a flag—
When faced with real death, fear always wins.
The streets were packed with people trying to flee the area in a frenzied panic—desperate to escape this terrible place.
Then a voice echoed from the Eternal Church’s building:
"Didn’t you question our God?
In three days, at the grand altar, we’ll sacrifice both demons and angels to Him.
Let’s see if their masters—God or Satan—dare to appear.
I just hope you believers won’t cry when you’re disappointed."
That sa ssage quickly spread to national TV broadcasts.
Within an hour, the entire world was gripped by a single thought:
Three days from now... the Eternal God will descend during the ritual.
And the question on everyone’s lips:
Will God or Satan respond to the challenge?
There was a shared sense of lancholy. Many felt a silent, gnawing dread... as if humanity was destined to lose.
After all, no one had ever seen God or Satan—not directly.
Everything they knew ca from legends and scriptures.
That’s when a well-known scholar appeared on a global talk show and posed a chilling question:
"Are Satan and God truly the supre beings they’re said to be?
If so, why has the angel Gabriel been imprisoned for two days without any divine intervention?
Why have hundreds of demons been slaughtered without Satan ever appearing?
Are these legends just that—legends?
Or are they hiding... avoiding?"
His words sent shockwaves through the world.
Even devout priests began to waver in their faith.
Atop the Eternal Church’s skyscraper...
Gabriel, wings dull and grey, hung suspended near the rooftop.
A group of followers surrounded her, ticulously applying color to her feathers.
Constantine frowned as he inspected the process.
"Phil, focus. The paint needs to be even—no blotches or gimmicks. Make sure the photoluminescent coating covers every feather."
"Relax, Master Constantine," replied Phil, a woman obsessed with handcrafts. "I’ve spent days perfecting this. Don’t worry—I’ve got it under control."
Phil worked fervently.
Under her care, Gabriel’s wings slowly regained their luster, though the divine glow remained corrupted. To mortals, however, they appeared beautiful again.
Gabriel, anwhile, kept muttering under her breath, humiliated beyond belief.
Being degraded like this—colored like a pet bird?
It was unbearable.
And they kept changing the shade every ti it looked "off."
If looks could kill, Constantine would’ve died a thousand deaths by now.
"Hmph... If it weren’t for those fools wanting to witness your ’divine holiness,’ we wouldn’t be wasting ti playing dress-up with you," Constantine scoffed.
"Try struggling again. I’ll have no problem calling on more thunder."
The veiled threat worked.
Gabriel fell quiet.
She knew his power—his thunder had overwheld her before. Struggling would only bring more pain.
She wasn’t stupid.
And she wasn’t eager to provoke him again.
Three days later.
A bright and cloudless morning dawned.
The long-awaited ceremony began.
An intricately built altar stood at the heart of the city.
Governnt officials, now wearing ceremonial religious robes, gathered in the square. All were waiting in tense anticipation of divine grace.
10:00 AM.
The great bell tolled.
Constantine and his followers entered the plaza, escorting Gabriel to the altar.
A priest beside him leaned in and whispered, "Master Constantine, everything is ready. We can begin the sacrifice."
"Understood."
Constantine adjusted his collar, walked to the front of the altar, and knelt.
With a solemn expression, he began to chant from the Eternal Ritual Scripture.
Though it was his first ti performing it, his voice was steady, full of reverence and devotion—as if caught in a divine dream.
The first ritual concluded.
But nothing happened.
The world remained unchanged—no visions, no miracles.
Then ca the second bell.
Elsewhere in the city, believers followed their divine envoys, kneeling to pray in unison.
The sacrificial creature—a monstrous demon—was brought forth and slaughtered.
Thick, black blood splattered across the altar.
Next, Gabriel was brought forward.
Her mouth no longer gagged, her wounds still fresh, but her wings now glowed faintly from the polish.
"You will never succeed," she hissed. "God is the true and greatest deity..."
Chains clinked as they were unbound, one by one.
Gabriel felt her strength returning. Her wings unfurled with newfound energy.
A flicker of joy crossed her face.
She took off into the air, crying out:
"God, I beg you—guide this lost world with your light!"
But just then—
The steel-and-concrete altar lit up, glowing with divine energy.
A radiant beam surged upward.
Gabriel froze mid-air.
Her eyes widened in horror.
She couldn’t move.
Ti itself seed to stop around her.
Then—
From within the crowd, a tall man in a crisp white suit stepped forward.
His golden hair glistened in the sunlight.
He looked first at Constantine, still kneeling in worship.
Then at Gabriel, suspended in divine light.
His lips curled into a cruel smile.
"Well, well... two old friends. It’s been a long ti."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Constantine turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
"You... you’re—"
"Lucifer."
"The Fallen Angel."
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