Chapter 84 – Lucifer

The throne room continued to burn beneath the relentless fury of purple flames. They crawled across the marble floor and climbed the pillars, casting eerie violet shadows over the shattered furniture and scorched walls. The air had grown unbearably hot, carrying the acrid smell of burning wood and charred stone. Every now and then, a piece of the ceiling crumbled and fell, scattering debris across the floor as the fire crackled around the two combatants. Despite the destruction surrounding her, Lireina Ashford kept her magical flintlock aimed at Adzeel Schwarzer, her fingers wrapped tightly around its grip. Her green eyes remained fixed on the man standing before her, although the uncertainty creeping into her expression was becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

"What keeps you going, Adzeel Schwarzer?" Lireina asked, her voice cutting through the roar of the flames. "Is it about hate? Hate against Alexander?"

"You got that right, Untouchable Windwalker," Adzeel replied without hesitation. His voice sounded almost casual, as though they were having an ordinary conversation instead of fighting for their lives inside a burning throne room. He stood tall in his armor of Apollyon, the dark metal reflecting the flickering purple light. There was no hesitation in his answer, nor did he appear ashamed of the hatred that had kept him moving forward. If anything, he seemed perfectly comfortable admitting it to her face.

"I have heard the rumors about what he did to your wife," Lireina continued, her grip tightening around her flintlock. She had heard enough stories about Adzeel's past to understand why he would want revenge against Alexander Goldheart. However, understanding his suffering did not mean she could approve of everything he had done in response to it. She glanced at the burning throne room, remembering the innocent people who had been caught in the conflict and the lives that had been destroyed along the way. "But you shouldn't have included other innocent bystanders. Whatever Alexander did to you, those people didn't deserve to suffer for it."

"Did you mean your fellow Celestial Wardens?" Adzeel asked, tilting his armored head slightly. A low, bitter chuckle escaped him, sounding strangely hollow beneath his helmet. "Alexander is a bastard who took my wife. Qinglong is a trigger-happy murderer. Saint Elwyn is the broodmother of demons. Garruk is the god of slavery and prostitution. Zerova is a killing snake. And Cattleo is a mad pedophile." He paused for a moment, allowing each accusation to settle between them as the flames roared around his armor. "None of them are innocent. Not even you, you hypocritical, racist elf."

"I... I'm not a hypocrite!" Lireina shouted, her voice trembling as anger surged through her chest. She felt her cheeks grow hot, although the intense temperature of the room made it impossible to tell whether the heat came from the fire or her own emotions. Her fingers tightened around the flintlock until her knuckles began to ache, and she struggled to maintain her aim despite the growing tremor in her hands. "I am doing what is justice!" 

"Your justice is to wipe out the dark elves," Adzeel retorted. His tone remained cold, but a faint smirk could be heard in his voice as he watched her struggle to respond. "Do you remember Semjaza? You never gave that dark elf a second chance." 

He took a slow step forward, the heavy soles of his armored boots scraping against the scorched marble. Purple flames danced along the edges of his armor, illuminating the enormous broadsword he carried at his side. 

"You condemned Semjaza without even considering that there might have been another way. Tell me, Untouchable Windwalker, how is that any different from the people you claim to oppose?"

"How did you..." Lireina gasped. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she forgot that she was supposed to be fighting him. The name alone was enough to make her heart sink, bringing back memories she had tried to justify for far too long. She shook her head, as though the movement could somehow dislodge the accusation from her mind. "It's not true!" she insisted, but the words sounded weak even to her own ears. 

"It is true. I know about your sins, Lireina," Adzeel declared. The amusement vanished from his voice, replaced by a chilling finality that made the surrounding flames seem almost quiet in comparison. He reached for the hilt of his giant broadsword and slowly drew the weapon, its enormous blade scraping against the armor at his side. A deep, rumbling sound filled the throne room as purple fire gathered along its edge, growing brighter and taller until the blade was engulfed in a towering column of supernatural flames. The heat washed over Lireina's face, drying the sweat on her skin almost as quickly as it formed. "And now it is your time to pay for your sins."

Still clad in the armor of Apollyon, Adzeel raised his enormous broadsword above his head. The weapon looked even more intimidating as the purple flames twisted around it, shedding sparks that drifted through the air like glowing embers. Across from him, Lireina stood frozen, her magical flintlock still raised but her resolve crumbling beneath the weight of his accusations. Her breathing had become shallow, and her arms felt strangely heavy, as though someone had tied invisible weights to her wrists. 

"It's not true," Lireina muttered, barely loud enough to be heard over the crackling flames. Her gaze dropped toward the floor, where the purple light reflected off the marble like pools of bloodless fire. "I am not a racist. I am not a hypocrite. I did what had to be done." 

"If you really want to do what has to be done, then drop dead, Untouchable Windwalker!" Adzeel roared.

His voice reverberated throughout the throne room, drowning out the crackling fire as he brought his broadsword down in a devastating swing. The towering purple flames gathered along its edge surged forward, erupting into an enormous pillar of fire that raced across the room toward Lireina. The heat struck her before the attack even reached her, scorching her exposed skin and making her eyes sting. The air shimmered violently in front of the approaching inferno, while loose fragments of stone scattered across the floor beneath the force of the blast. There was barely enough time to react, and the sheer size of the attack threatened to engulf everything in its path.

High above the battlefield, Croft watched helplessly from where she had been tied to the chandelier as a hostage. The ropes dug painfully into her wrists, and every movement caused the chandelier to sway slightly above the burning floor. She could feel the heat rising toward her face, while the smoke stung her eyes and made each breath increasingly uncomfortable. Yet none of that mattered when she saw her best friend standing motionless before the approaching pillar of purple fire. Lireina had faced countless dangers throughout her life, but now she looked as though she had already accepted defeat. Croft's heart clenched at the sight, and panic threatened to overwhelm her as she realized that the woman she knew as the Untouchable Windwalker was on the verge of giving up. She refused to accept that this would be the end of Lireina Ashford, not after everything they had endured together.

"Lena, live!" Croft screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her desperate cry echoed through the throne room, cutting through the roar of the approaching flames. For one brief moment, Lireina's eyes widened as the familiar voice reached her ears. The nickname struck a chord deep within her, pulling her attention away from the accusations that had trapped her inside her own thoughts. She remembered that she was not merely the Untouchable Windwalker, nor was she simply a Celestial Warden expected to uphold some grand ideal of justice. She was Lireina, a person who could make mistakes, question her beliefs, and still choose what she would do next. Croft was still there, fighting to survive despite being bound and helpless, and Lireina could not allow herself to abandon her best friend when she needed her most.

With that single shout, Lireina snapped back to reality. The enormous pillar of purple flames was already bearing down on her, its blinding light swallowing the space between them. Her instincts screamed at her to rely on Autonomous Evasion, the blessing that had saved her from countless attacks before, but she knew she could not keep depending on the goddess to carry her through every battle. If she wanted to prove that her convictions were her own, then she had to make a choice and act on her own strength. She forced her trembling legs to steady themselves, raised both hands toward the oncoming inferno, and gathered what remained of her magical energy. The scorching wind whipped her hair backward, and the edges of her dress fluttered violently as the flames threatened to consume her.

"Magic Barrier!" Lireina shouted.

A brilliant green light burst from her outstretched hands, spreading into a curved force field just as the pillar of purple fire crashed into it. The collision produced a deafening roar that shook the throne room, while green and violet light flooded the chamber and cast enormous shadows across the ruined walls. Lireina felt the impact travel through her arms and shoulders, forcing her backward as she struggled to keep the barrier intact. The magical shield flickered beneath the relentless assault, its surface rippling like the surface of a pond struck by a violent storm. Heat pressed against her from every direction, and the smell of scorched fabric filled her nostrils as she gritted her teeth and poured more mana into the weakening defense. For a few precious seconds, the barrier held, allowing her to withstand an attack that would otherwise have engulfed her completely.

However, the strain soon became too much. Thin fractures spread across the green force field, branching outward like cracks in glass as the purple flames continued hammering against it. Lireina's arms shook uncontrollably, and pain shot through her shoulders as she struggled to maintain the spell. Then, with a sharp, crystalline sound, the barrier began to shatter. Its remaining energy burst into countless green sparks, scattering through the air as the weakened pillar of purple flames finally broke through. Fortunately, the barrier had absorbed most of the attack's destructive force, leaving the remaining flames too weak to consume her entirely. Nevertheless, Lireina could do little to protect herself from the scorching heat that swept over her body as the last remnants of the inferno engulfed her.

When the flames finally dissipated, Lireina remained standing, but the damage was unmistakable. Most of her dress had been burned, leaving its once elegant fabric blackened, torn, and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Both shoulders were scorched, and every movement sent a sharp sting through the injured areas. The ends of her golden hair had curled and darkened from the heat, releasing the faint smell of burnt strands whenever she moved her head. Sweat streamed down her face and neck, soaking what remained of her clothing as she struggled to catch her breath. Her lungs burned from the smoke, and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her exhausted body. Yet despite the pain and the destruction surrounding her, Lireina was still alive. She lowered her trembling hands for a moment, staring at the scorched floor beneath her feet before slowly raising her gaze toward Adzeel once more.

Lireina gasped for air, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to recover from Adzeel's devastating attack. Every breath felt like inhaling hot needles, and the scorched fabric of her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. The smell of burnt cloth and singed hair lingered around her, while sweat trickled down her temples and dripped from her chin onto the marble floor. Her shoulders throbbed with pain, and her legs trembled beneath her weight, threatening to give out at any moment. Nevertheless, she forced herself to remain standing, refusing to let the man before her witness any further signs of weakness.

"Lena!" Croft cried from above, her expression brightening with relief when she saw her best friend still alive. Despite the ropes binding her wrists and the terrible heat rising from the burning throne room, she managed to flash Lireina an encouraging smile. "You're not a hypocrite, Lena! And you're not a racist! Dark elves are cursed with the Demon King's energy, remember that? So beat that stupid bandit!" 

Lireina slowly raised her head toward Croft. For a moment, she simply stared at her best friend, allowing those familiar words to sink into her exhausted mind. Then, despite the pain radiating from her shoulders, the corners of her mouth curled into a faint smile. It was not the confident smile of the Untouchable Windwalker who had faced countless enemies without fear. Instead, it was the fragile but genuine smile of a woman who had nearly lost herself to doubt and had finally found a reason to stand again. 

"I will, Croft," she replied, her voice still breathless but noticeably steadier than before. "I will." She tightened her fists and turned her attention back to Adzeel, forcing her aching body to respond to her renewed determination. 

Before either combatant could make another move, a sudden scraping sound echoed from the far end of the throne room. The first prince of the kingdom, Alaric Eisenhower, rose from his throne with an expression of unmistakable boredom. Throughout the battle, he had remained seated, observing the confrontation as though it were nothing more than an uninteresting performance arranged for his entertainment. Now, however, he seemed to have grown tired of waiting. He reached for a platinum Halochassis glove resting beside his throne and slipped it onto his hand, the polished metal catching the violet glow of the surrounding flames. A faint metallic click sounded as the glove fitted itself around his fingers, and a strange pressure began to spread through the room as its dormant power awakened.

"I'm done watching," Alaric announced, brushing a few imaginary specks of dust from his royal attire. His gaze shifted toward Adzeel, who stood amid the burning debris with his enormous broadsword still in hand. "It's not my style to go to the front lines, but this useless bandit is taking too much time." His voice carried the effortless arrogance of someone who had rarely been forced to dirty his own hands. 

"Useless, huh?" Adzeel repeated with a smirk. Rather than taking offense at the prince's insult, he seemed genuinely amused by it. He had already endured accusations, threats, and the judgment of people who believed themselves superior to him, so another arrogant royal hardly seemed worth getting angry over. Still clad in the armor of Apollyon, he shifted his enormous broadsword onto his shoulder and regarded Alaric with mocking curiosity. "Then why don't you come down here and prove it, Your Highness?" 

Alaric did not bother answering the challenge. Instead, he raised the hand wearing the platinum Halochassis glove, extending it before him as though he were presenting a royal decree. The metallic surface gleamed beneath the flickering light, and a powerful surge of energy rippled outward from the glove. Even the flames seemed to waver as the strange force spread through the throne room, making the air feel heavier against everyone's skin. The prince's expression remained composed, his posture straight and dignified as he prepared to reveal the power he had kept hidden until now. "Awaken, Lucifer," he commanded.

A blinding white light erupted from the platinum glove, swallowing Alaric's figure in an instant. Croft instinctively narrowed her eyes and turned her face away, shielding herself from the sudden radiance. The light spread across the throne room, overpowering the purple glow of the surrounding flames and casting sharp shadows behind the pillars. A deep metallic hum vibrated through the floor as pieces of platinum armor materialized around the prince's body, fitting together with a series of heavy clicks and resonant clanks. Layer upon layer of gleaming plates formed around his limbs and torso, creating an imposing suit of armor that reflected the light like polished silver. Finally, a helmet resembling a lion's head enclosed his face, its sculpted mane giving the prince an even more regal and intimidating appearance. A magnificent golden royal coat unfurled behind him, its fluffy edges fluttering in the heated air as though an invisible wind followed his every movement. When the light finally faded, Alaric stood transformed, radiating an overwhelming sense of majesty that made even the burning throne room seem like an appropriate stage for his arrival.

"Lucifer?" Croft muttered, her earlier relief replaced by sudden apprehension. She stared at the armored prince, struggling to reconcile the familiar face of Alaric Eisenhower with the terrifying figure standing before her. The name had an unmistakable significance, one that no scholar of the supernatural could easily overlook. 

It did not take a genius to understand what the name Lucifer meant. According to the ancient lore, Lucifer was the king of the fallen angels, the supreme leader who commanded the others beneath him. His name had survived through countless generations of stories, warnings, and forbidden texts, often associated with power so overwhelming that even other legendary beings were said to stand beneath his authority. If the hierarchy recorded in those ancient accounts was to be believed, then Lucifer was the strongest Halochassis of all. Croft's mouth went dry as she considered the implications. Alaric had not simply summoned another powerful suit of armor. He had awakened a Halochassis whose name represented the very pinnacle of the fallen angels' hierarchy, and the prince appeared entirely comfortable wielding such a terrifying power.

Lucifer reached behind his body and drew a magnificent golden sword from its scabbard. The blade emerged with a clear metallic ring, its polished surface reflecting the purple flames and the scattered embers drifting through the air. Despite its elegant appearance, the weapon radiated an oppressive presence that made Croft's skin crawl. Alaric held it with effortless confidence, as though the sword weighed no more than an ordinary ceremonial weapon. He then turned his lionlike helmet toward Lireina, who was still struggling to recover from the wounds inflicted by Adzeel. There was no hesitation in his movements, nor did he appear concerned that she had already survived one devastating attack. To him, the battle was simply another problem that needed to be resolved, and he had already decided how it would end.

"Moonlight Slash," Lucifer chanted.

For an instant, the throne room plunged into darkness.

The flames, the ruined pillars, and even the silhouettes of the combatants seemed to disappear beneath a sudden veil of blackness. Croft barely had time to register what had happened before a silver streak flashed through the darkness, cutting across the space between Alaric and Lireina with impossible speed. There was no audible rush of wind to warn her, nor was there enough time for her eyes to follow the movement. The silver light vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a brief, unnatural silence. Then the darkness receded, and the purple flames once again illuminated the shattered throne room.

"Gah!" Lireina cried out.

A deep wound had opened across her upper body, stretching from her shoulder down toward her chest. Blood seeped through the damaged fabric of her dress, staining the pale material as she stumbled backward. The pain struck a moment later, sharp and overwhelming, stealing the air from her lungs. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold marble floor with a heavy thud. The impact sent another jolt of agony through her injured body, forcing a strained gasp from her lips as she struggled to keep herself conscious. Her vision blurred at the edges, and the sounds of the burning throne room seemed to grow distant beneath the pounding of her heartbeat.

"Lena!" Croft screamed, her smile vanishing as she watched her best friend fall. She pulled desperately against the ropes binding her to the chandelier, but the knots only tightened around her wrists. The helplessness was unbearable. She could do nothing but watch as Lireina lay wounded on the floor, blood spreading beneath her body while the prince stood over the battlefield without the slightest sign of remorse. Croft's throat tightened, and tears welled in her eyes as she tried to think of something, anything, that might help her friend survive.

"No one can see my Moonlight Slash," Lucifer declared, his voice ringing through the throne room with cold confidence. He held the golden sword at his side, its blade gleaming in the firelight as though it had never touched another living being. "You might have evaded it with Autonomous Evasion, but Apollyon's Unholy Flames will negate your blessings from the goddess." He turned his helmet toward the wounded Lireina, his posture as composed as ever. "So now, say your prayers, Untouchable Windwalker!" With those words, he raised his golden sword once more, preparing to deliver the final blow. The weapon caught the purple light, casting a narrow reflection across Lireina's bloodstained dress as she struggled to lift her head.

"Lenaaaaaa!" Croft cried, her voice breaking as it echoed through the burning chamber.

Lireina could hear her best friend's desperate cries, even as pain threatened to overwhelm her senses. Croft's voice reached her through the roar of the flames, giving her something familiar to hold on to when everything else seemed to be slipping away. For a moment, it was the only thing that kept her from surrendering to the darkness creeping into her vision. She had promised Croft that she would keep fighting, and she desperately wanted to honor that promise. Yet there was another reason she refused to give up, one that stirred something within her far more powerful than fear or pain.

Shin.

The thought of him surfaced in her mind, bringing with it memories of his face, his voice, and the warmth she felt whenever she was by his side. She remembered the moments they had shared, the feelings she had struggled to understand, and the future she had begun to imagine despite the dangers surrounding them. The thought gave her a newfound strength, one she had never discovered even during their campaign against the Demon King. Back then, she had fought because she was a Celestial Warden, because the world depended on her, and because countless lives rested upon her shoulders. Now, however, she had someone she wanted to return to. She had a reason to survive that belonged to her alone, something that no goddess, title, or sacred duty could ever give her. If she died here, she would never see Shin again, never tell him what he truly meant to her, and never discover what kind of future they might build together.

And that was why she had to give this battle everything she had.

Lireina slowly drew in a trembling breath. The pain in her chest remained unbearable, and the blood soaking her dress made every movement feel heavier than the last. Nevertheless, she began gathering the remnants of her magical energy, reaching deep within herself for a power she had never dared to unleash completely. She no longer cared about preserving her strength or saving something for the next battle. There might not be another battle for her if she failed now. As the prince prepared to swing his sword, Lireina closed her eyes and focused on the determination burning within her heart. Her lips parted, and a faint voice escaped her throat, almost too soft to be heard above the crackling flames.

"Activating Final Form."

The moment those words left her lips, the entire throne room was engulfed in a brilliant radiance. A colossal pillar of white light descended from the heavens, piercing through the smoke and illuminating the burning ruins below. The force of its arrival sent a powerful gust through the chamber, scattering ashes and embers in every direction. The flames bent away from the light, their purple tongues shrinking beneath its overwhelming brilliance. Alaric paused in the middle of his attack, while Adzeel's smirk slowly faded as he turned to witness the impossible sight. Within the pillar, Lireina's wounded body began to glow, and the bloodstains covering her dress vanished beneath the growing radiance. Her injuries were completely healed as the light reconstructed her body, restoring her strength and transforming her appearance into something far beyond her previous forms.

When the radiance finally began to subside, Lireina stood once more upon the marble floor, but the woman before them was no longer the same Untouchable Windwalker they had known. She wore a magnificent white robe resembling the garments of an ancient goddess, its flowing fabric moving gently despite the absence of any breeze. Ornate metal bracers and boots adorned her limbs, each piece decorated with ancient patterns and delicate wings that gave them an almost sacred appearance. Her golden hair had grown extraordinarily long, cascading down her back until it reached her feet, with elegant white ribbons woven through its shimmering strands. A delicate white blindfold covered her eyes, concealing the green gaze that had once reflected her uncertainty. Resting upon her head was a magnificent winged tiara, its pale metal gleaming with a divine radiance that rivaled the light surrounding her body.

Then came the wings.

Ten enormous white wings unfurled from Lireina's back, spreading outward in a breathtaking display that filled the throne room with an overwhelming sense of grandeur. Their feathers shimmered beneath the light, each one appearing almost impossibly pristine against the scorched surroundings. As the wings opened fully, a gentle wave of energy swept through the chamber, stirring the golden royal coat of Lucifer and sending loose ashes spiraling toward the ceiling. The contrast was astonishing. Around her, the throne room remained a scene of destruction, with blackened pillars, shattered marble, and purple flames devouring everything they touched. Yet Lireina stood at its center like a divine being who had descended from the heavens to bring judgment upon the wicked. Her earlier wounds were gone, her trembling had ceased, and the despair that had nearly consumed her had been replaced by an unshakable resolve.

For the first time since the battle began, both the prince and the Iron Bandit stood speechless. Even Adzeel, who had spent the entire confrontation mocking Lireina and exposing the sins of the Celestial Wardens, could not immediately find the words to describe what he was witnessing. The sheer beauty of her transformation was overwhelming, but it was the power radiating from her that made the sight truly terrifying. Alaric's golden sword remained raised in his hand, yet he hesitated to bring it down, while the flames around Adzeel's armor flickered beneath the pressure of Lireina's newfound presence. Neither man had expected the Untouchable Windwalker to reveal another transformation, much less one that surpassed the forms she had previously displayed.

"Impossible..." Alaric muttered, his voice losing some of its earlier arrogance. He stared at Lireina's ten wings, then at the divine garments and ancient armor adorning her transformed body. "This is the unmistakeable! The Final Form that even Alexander cannot match!"