Devil Slave (Satan system)

The moment Enel disappeared, chaos erupted between the demons and fallen angels, each side fully unleashing its brutal, unrestrained fury.

Belakor, snarled as he unleashed his first assault: **Shadow Tendrils**.

Long, sinewy tendrils of darkness sprang from his hands, each one snapping through the air with a wet, sickening hiss. They tore through several of the fallen angels, coiling around their limbs and snapping them like dry twigs. Their cries of pain echoed, but the angels retaliated swiftly, launching themselves at the demons, weapons drawn.

One of the fallen angels, a captain named Seraphiel, raised his sword high, calling out

**Heaven’s Judgement**.

A blinding sphere of silver light erupted from his blade, searing everything in its path as he thrust it toward Belakor and his forces.

But the demons met his assault head-on with **Hellfire Barrage**.

Dozens of demons raised their hands, summoning torrents of green-black shadow flames that scorched the ground and collided with Seraphiel’s light in a shattering explosion. Stone fragments burst from the arena floor, scattering in every direction as the arena trembled under the force of the attacks.

Enel’s siblings and elders scrambled for cover, pressing themselves against the remains of shattered pillars or ducking behind the stone ruins that once held the arena’s seats.

They struggled to keep their footing as the earth quaked beneath them. The arena was transforming into a battleground, and nothing in its path was spared.

The demons, despite being fewer in number, were relentless. They moved as one, displaying a vicious cohesion that spoke of ages of warfare in the darkest realms.

One demon, a massive creature with charred, cracked skin named Maldrok, charged forward, swinging his axe with the skill of a seasoned warlord.

As he brought down his weapon, he shouted **Infernal Cleave**, and the axe blade burned with unholy fire.

It cut through three angels with a single sweep, leaving a trail of scorched flesh and feathers in its wake. Maldrok’s laughter echoed through the arena as he stepped over their crumpled bodies, a twisted grin on his face.

The angels tried to regroup, desperate to leverage their numbers. A trio of them gathered at the center of the battlefield, summoning their power into a devastating technique known as **Celestial Convergence**.

Golden light spiraled between them, forming a massive spear of radiant energy aimed at the heart of the demon ranks. They hurled it with a shout, and it struck the ground with an earth-shattering impact, vaporizing a dozen demons in a single blast.

Yet, Belakor’s forces surged forward without fear, each one seeming more enraged than the last. "You think light can stop us?" Belakor bellowed, his voice dripping with mockery. He raised his hand and unleashed, a black, smoky blast that streaked toward the angels.

It hit them like a curse, ripping through their ranks and leaving them weakened, each one crumbling to the ground with shadowed veins crawling up their bodies. The angels writhed in pain, their glowing eyes dimming under the weight of the curse.

The fallen angels, realizing they were losing ground, fought back with desperate ferocity.

One angel, Lilithan, wielded a spear with deadly grace, summoning **Winged Wrath**.

Her wings sharpened, transforming into deadly blades as she dived into the demon line, slicing through them with precise, brutal strikes. Blood sprayed across the arena floor as she cut down demon after demon, her face set in grim determination.

But the demons only laughed, retaliating with savage skill. Maldrok appeared behind Lilithan, his eyes gleaming with malice as he activated **Hellbound Grip**. Shadows coiled around his arm and formed a clawed gauntlet that latched onto Lilithan’s wing, yanking her out of the air. He smashed her into the ground with a bone-crushing force, grinning as her cries of agony filled the air.

Seeing Lilithan fall, a second angel named Caelum cried out, summoning **Radiant Spearfall**. Dozens of spears of light rained down from the heavens, impaling several demons in the process.

Yet, Belakor shrugged off the assault, his own power swelling as he unleashed **Netherstorm**, a wave of black lightning that tore through the air, incinerating any angel it touched. The bolts of dark energy sliced through Caelum and his allies, dropping them in heaps on the ground, their bodies charred and broken.

The arena continued to tremble under the impact of every blow. The sheer energy from the battle was tearing the stone apart, and the crowd seats crumbled, chunks of rubble scattering everywhere. Enel watched from his corner, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction as he took in the carnage. Every crash of magic, every scream, every flurry of blood only seemed to amuse him more.

Another fallen angel, Arkael, flew high into the air, channeling his final, desperate attack, **Light of Annihilation**.

His entire body glowed, becoming a living beacon, and then he dived straight into the center of the demon ranks, exploding in a blinding flash of holy energy. Several demons were obliterated in the blast, their bodies disintegrating into ash. But as the light faded, Belakor and Maldrok stood unharmed, protected by a shield of shadow cast by their combined powers.

Belakor laughed, his voice a chilling echo in the arena. "Is that all the corrupt light has to offer? I am really enjoying this... you angels have become weak. If it was befire, I and my brethren woukd have ran, but right now, you are just winged rats." he mocked, raising his hand as he and Maldrok joined forces for one final, merciless attack: **Void Abyss**. A swirling vortex of pure darkness opened beneath the fallen angels, pulling them down as the ground itself seemed to collapse.

Screams filled the air as angels were dragged into the black pit, their bodies twisted and broken as they vanished into the void.

One by one, the fallen angels fell, their forces collapsing under the relentless onslaught. Those that managed to escape the Void Abyss found themselves surrounded, the demons closing in with savage grins and bloodlust in their eyes. The few remaining angels fought bravely, but it was a lost cause, their ranks decimated, their spirits broken.

By the time the dust settled, the arena was an unrecognizable ruin, littered with the bodies of both demons and angels.

Enel’s siblings and the elders emerged cautiously from their hiding places, their faces pale as they took in the devastation. And there, standing at the edge of the battlefield, was Enel, watching it all with a twisted smile, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he whispered to himself, "Perfect."

And then a voice, calm but chilling, with a near perfect British accent came from behind Enel, "I know right, My dear feathered siblings do seem to be losing dreadfully, don’t they?"