CHAPTER 141: WHEN HEAVEN GETS MESSY

Grace barely had time to towel off the sweat from her morning training when a messenger angel burst into the arena, wings trembling like she’d just witnessed her first Primal Demon.

"Um, Lady Grace? Archangel Celestia requests your immediate presence in the—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Grace waved her off, already knowing this was about the next Pillar.

[Can’t a girl catch her breath for five minutes? At this rate I’ll be fighting ancient evils until I’m as old as Celestia... Better not say anything like that out loud.]

The messenger’s eyes lingered on Grace’s newly defined abs.

Months of combat training had carved muscle where there used to be nothing but softness. Grace pretended not to notice, but her Love attribute at 75 meant she had half a mind to pull the girl in and tell Celestia to wait.

She did not. Instead, five minutes later, Grace found herself in Celestia’s council chamber with all the faction leaders present.

Seraph lounged in her chair like she owned half the Dominion, red braid draped over shoulders that could probably bench-press a cathedral. Venus was busy examining her nails. Mara sat with perfect posture, hands folded over her considerable chest, radiating the kind of maternal concern that made you want to confess your sins.

And Celestia? She stood by the great window, rainbow wings spread in contemplation, looking every inch the archangel who’d seen empires rise and fall.

"Grace, thank you for coming quickly," Celestia began, turning with that smile that always made Grace feel like a favored student. "We need to discuss which Pillar to address next."

"Right." Grace dropped into a chair, trying to look professional despite still being sweaty. "So we’ve got Three left? Mountain, Void, and... uh..."

"Bloom," Venus supplied without looking up. "Personally, I vote we tackle the Bloom next. Always wondered what life gone wild would be like."

Seraph snorted.

"Of course you’d pick the one that sounds the most suggestive."

"Says the woman who wanted to arm-wrestle the Mountain into submission."

"That’s different! That’s about strength and—"

BOOM.

The entire chamber shook. Not a gentle tremor, but the kind of bone-deep vibration that said something very large had just exploded somewhere very close.

"What in Eternia’s name was that?" Grace blurted.

Celestia’s expression had shifted from serene leader to something much sharper.

"Western plaza," she said, already moving toward the balcony. "That’s—"

Another explosion. This time, Grace could hear the screaming.

They rushed outside, and Grace’s jaw dropped. Down in the plaza, angels were fighting. Not sparring, fighting. Golden divine light clashed against writhing purple-blue energy as Sisters of Bravery engaged with what could only be—

"Veil angels," Diana’s voice came from behind them. She must’ve followed the explosions. "What are they doing in the Dominion?"

Grace counted at least thirty combatants, maybe more. The Veil angels moved differently than the Dominion’s forces—less structured, more desperate. One had a Bravery Sister pinned, corrupted energy crackling around her raised fist.

Of course, they weren’t killing each other. But, by now, several body parts littered the cloud-like floor.

"We need to—" Grace started, already summoning her Blade of Eternia.

Celestia’s hand on her shoulder stopped her cold.

"No."

"B-But they’re—"

"I said no, Grace."

The archangel’s voice carried weight that made everyone step back. Grace had never heard Celestia sound like that. Not angry, exactly, but implacable.

Celestia stepped onto the balcony railing, her rainbow wings spreading to their full span. The sight alone made several combatants below pause mid-swing.

"Enough."

One word. That’s all it took.

The temperature plummeted. It was like every single shadow in the area turned toward Celestia. The air itself grew thick, pressing down on everyone below.

[Holy shit,] Grace thought, watching Celestia descend with the slow inevitability of divine judgment. [I guess this is what Level 99 looks like when it stops being polite.]

A Veil angel, Level 74 from what Grace could see, tried to attack Celestia mid-descent. The attempt lasted exactly as long as it took Celestia to make a casual gesture, sending the attacker cratering into the marble plaza floor.

"I believe violence within the Dominion is prohibited," Celestia said conversationally, touching down in the center of the chaos. "Have we all forgotten this simple rule?"

Another Veil angel charged from behind. Celestia sidestepped without turning, caught the attacker’s wrist, and used her momentum to flip her into three of her allies.

"Apparently so." Celestia sighed like a disappointed teacher. "How troublesome."

What happened next wasn’t a fight. It was an education.

Celestia flowed through the crowd of combatants like water through stone. Fluid, inevitable, unstoppable. She didn’t draw a weapon. Didn’t use flashy techniques. Just pure, refined skill that made everyone else look like children throwing tantrums.

All the while, she focused entirely on separating everyone. In less than thirty seconds, every fighter in the plaza was either flat on their back or seriously reconsidering their life choices. Most were both.

Grace realized her mouth was hanging open. So was Diana’s. Even Seraph looked impressed, and she’d probably seen Celestia fight before.

"Now then," Celestia said, not even breathing hard, "would someone care to explain why—"

The air split.

That’s the only way Grace could describe it. One second everything was normal, or as normal as thirty angels getting systematically humiliated could be, the next there was a tear in reality itself.

Azrael stepped through.

Grace’s body immediately recognized the familiar chill, that distinctive cold that screamed demon-adjacent entity nearby. But this was worse than any demon she’d faced. This was concentrated power wearing an angel’s skin.

"Level 100" floated above Azrael’s head in silver letters that seemed to flicker between solid and shadow. Her steel-gray hair moved in a wind that didn’t exist, and her ice-blue eyes surveyed the scene with the detached interest of someone observing insects.

"Celestia," Azrael said, and even her voice carried that unsettling duality, angelic and fundamentally threatening at the same time. "I see my people have caused a disturbance."

The tension in the air was suffocating. Every angel in the plaza held their breath.

This was it. The two strongest beings in existence, standing twenty feet apart, with centuries of conflict between them.

[Please don’t fight please don’t fight please don’t fight—]

Celestia tilted her head slightly.

"Azrael. How unexpected. I wasn’t aware the Veil had business in the Dominion today."

"We didn’t." Azrael’s gaze swept over the fallen Veil angels, several of whom were trying very hard to become invisible. "It seems some of my subordinates took initiative without orders. How... disappointing."

She said ’disappointing’ the way most people would say ’marked for death.’

"I see." Celestia’s posture hadn’t changed, but Grace could feel the readiness there. Like a blade held at rest but ready to strike. "And their initiative led them to attack my angels because...?"

One of the Veil angels, brave or stupid, Grace couldn’t tell, struggled to her feet.

"Lady Azrael, t-they were harboring the pretender! The one who claims to—"

Azrael’s glance silenced her more effectively than any gag.

"Did I ask you to speak?"

The angel crumpled back to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.

"The pretender," Celestia repeated carefully. "I assume they mean Grace."

Azrael’s eyes flicked up to the balcony, finding Grace instantly. That same measuring look from their last encounter, like she was solving an equation that refused to balance.

"Yes. Some of my people have... strong opinions about her existence." Azrael turned back to Celestia. "Opinions they apparently felt justified acting on without consultation."

"Your people attacked mine," Seraph called down, apparently done with being a spectator. "That’s an act of war, Azrael!"

"Is it?" Azrael asked mildly. "Do you wish to declare it, then? Officially?"

The silence that followed could have sliced through divine metal.

Then, unexpectedly, Azrael sighed. It was such a mundane sound from someone so otherworldly that it threw Grace off.

"No, no, this was not sanctioned. My apologies, everyone." She looked at her fallen angels with something that might’ve been disappointment if disappointment could freeze blood in veins. "We will withdraw. Now."

The Veil angels scrambled to their feet with impressive speed for people who’d just been systematically dismantled. They gathered behind Azrael like chicks behind a particularly terrifying mother hen.

"Celestia," Azrael said, inclining her head slightly. "I apologize for the disturbance. Surely, it won’t happen again."

"See that it doesn’t." Celestia’s voice remained pleasant, but Grace heard the steel underneath. "The Dominion’s doors remain open to all who seek redemption. They stay closed to those who bring violence."

"Of course. How could I forget your infinite compassion?"

An odd energy passed between them then. Like they were both recalling some old conversation or conflict that Grace didn’t know.

Azrael turned to leave. Soon, Azrael vanished, taking her angels with her. But, Celestia’s gaze remained fixed on the spot she’d stood in for a while, and Grace didn’t know what to make of it. The plaza went from supernatural standoff to ordinary Tuesday afternoon so fast it gave Grace whiplash.

[What in Eternia’s name just happened?]

Celestia stood in the empty plaza for a long moment, wings slowly folding back. When she finally took her eyes off and looked up at the balcony, she said:

"Alright, alright, stop gawking. Inside," she said quietly, but her voice carried to every corner of the plaza. "All of you."

And all the angels dispersed.