CHAPTER 1359: ARCANE DOMAIN REBIRTH’S HELL

Kanada’s voice rang clear across the battlefield as her huge golden staff that suddenly appeared ignited with celestial radiance. With a single gesture, chains of prophecy burst into existence, shining links wrapping around two of the Fallen like serpents of judgment. The air itself sang with scripture as the chains tightened, dragging the towering Fallen angel abominations backward.

Her guards charged forward, blades flashing, eyes burning with faith. Yet Kanada raised her hand sharply.

"Enough," she commanded. Her voice carried the weight of inevitability. "You are not enough to face them."

Her followers and guards froze mid-stride, confusion flashing across their faces. But they obeyed. Kanada’s gaze never wavered from the enemy—her prophecies told her exactly what price rash courage would pay.

The Fallen were already beginning to understand.

They were being forced out of the planet. But would they allow such a thing? After all, their goal here was destruction.

The six-winged colossus with a mouth yawning across its chest opened wide, hymns dripping from it like venom. Words once holy, now blackened and inverted, bled into the void, locking it in place. No matter how the golden chains or hammer-blows struck, it remained fixed, a fortress of blasphemy.

Other Fallen flared their wings, forming corrupted divine shields, rippling barriers of stained glass and twisted scripture. Attacks shattered against them, scattering sparks of stolen divinity into the stars.

Still, the coalition pressed harder. Blades, chains, and thunderclaps in tandem. Their coordination tore through the unnatural formation, and for the first time, the Fallen were split. Three hurled beyond the cosmic veil. Three remained within the bounds of Earth.

---

Outside the planet’s shimmering barrier, Father Black drifted lazily through the star-littered dark.

Before him loomed two Fallen, wings blotting the stars, and beyond them—the eye.

The colossal, lidless orb, as large as the moon itself, its iris rotating in impossible spirals, wings unfurling from its circumference like broken halos. It pulsed once, and the light of galaxies seemed to dim in response.

Father Black sucked at the end of his cigar. The butt fizzled out, smoldering into ash. He plucked another from his coat, lit it with a spark from his thumb, and exhaled a heavy sigh.

"This is going to be a hassle. I really miss the days when all we had to worry about was a witch that endlessly kept us alive for sport in her magic forest."

Perseus appeared beside him, "Well... Lenny appeared."

"Yeah. He fucked it all up. Then again, if this is the price we have to pay for our freedom," he gave a side smile, "then I am really enjoying myself."

Perseus turned to the old man. There was not one member of the Lenny family that was not crazy in their own way. In fact, they were super crazy.

But Father Black had always been reserved. And through out those times for battle he had always been the brains behind. Never had he come to the battlefield like this.

The last time perseus saw this was when lenny had rallied them up against the witch a hundred years ago after the escape from the demon arena.

Back then, every step had been a dangerous one but it had also been the beginning of their freedom.

And now...

Perseus took another look at Father Black. He could not believe what he was seeing. Even though the old man’s face looked as neutral and nonchalant as ever, the way cosmic energy vibrated Fri his body and the way his fingers moved.

There was no doubt that this old man was actually itching for a fight.

As if answering, the void bloomed with reinforcements. Gods, their avatars blazing in spectral fire, and Earth’s defenders shimmered into being around him, ready to throw themselves into the storm.

But then—a whisper.

Kanada’s voice pressed into Father Black’s mind, smooth, unyielding:

"Don’t forget, this is a competition to see who is worthy to lead."

Father Black scratched idly at his ear, puffed smoke, and sighed again. He raised his hand, waving the newcomers back.

"Stay clear," he ordered, voice calm, almost bored. "Your duty is Earth. Guard it against the lash of what’s about to happen. I’ll handle this myself."

A hush fell over the gathered host.

Then Demeter, the goddess, his wife, floated closer, her eyes sharp as sickles.

"Are you certain?" she asked quietly. "You haven’t raised your hand in a hundred years."

Father Black chuckled, smoke curling from his lips. "Guess I’m overdue then."

---

Meanwhile, on Earth’s surface, Athena’s comm flared alive with the same message, Kanada’s reminder of the competition searing into her mind. She lowered her spear as her eyes narrowed at the Fallen before her.

It was grotesque. Its form shivered, dripping with black ichor, yet its face—if it could be called such—was locked in an eternal weeping. Tears streamed endlessly, a flood of corrupted divinity staining the ground it touched.

It stretched out clawed fingers toward her. Its voice quavered with mock piety, sweet and venomous:

"Surrender to the holy grace of Lucifer Morningstar... and I will grant you a death of worship. A death more painful than any mortal can dream. Tell me, sinful one—what honor is greater than that?"

The battlefield trembled with its words.

Athena frowned, her expression a peaceful one as her head moved in response to the sound around her. "So I got a noisy one." She waved her hand to the Devils that were already ready for battle behind her.

"Hold your ground. I want to really enjoy this."

For these devils, they had not really seen Athena battle. Even though she was the Regent of Hell, she rarely ever engaged in conflict. Instead, she used her witts.

Devils were still a kind of people that respected strength.

Also, many of them wanted to gauge her power. They might all be against the morningstar now, but who knows if an opportunity would present itself in the future.

Such was their nature. They could not stop it.

However, the moment Athena took a step forward...

"ARCANE DOMAIN REBIRTH’S HELL"