CHAPTER 807: DRAVEN AND ORIANA

The black sword in her hand—Soul Reaver—was what they feared the most.

That sword was nothing but a disaster.

Esmeray was not just the princess, but she was the general of demon army as well. She led the wars and deadly ones.

Oriana smirked at the shocked Isis. "You seem truly happy to see me back."

Isis was too stunned to utter a word.

The deities, who had once feared Esmeray, all had the same question running through their minds. When did the Princess of the Demon Realm return?

Those vibrations they had felt earlier—from the Demon Realm—no wonder it had been her.

But if she had returned, did it mean the shield around the Demon Realm was gone?

With their king in a weakened state, and their queen revealed as evil, what would happen to the Heaven Realm now?

Who would protect them?

God of War.

He had returned as well. There was nothing to fear.

"So, Isis," Oriana began as she stepped closer, "how would you like your end? Die here by my sword, your soul ceasing to exist... or would you prefer I drag your soul to the depths of hell and throw you into the Nexus of Malevolence, so it’s tormented for eternity?"

Isis took a step back in fright. The Nexus of Malevolence—she knew it too well. She would never want that.

"I personally prefer the second option," Oriana continued, tilting her head slightly. "You’ll have the company of one rotten witch down there. The two of you can scream together while your souls are ripped apart—but they’ll never die."

"Princess Esmeray," Grianor stepped forward, offering her a polite nod as was owed to the ruler of the Demon Realm. "Deity Isis is the culprit of the Heaven Realm, and only we have the right to punish her."

Oriana’s eyes turned to him, her gaze losing all traces of politeness.

"Oh, King of Heaven," she said mockingly, "you finally see the truth? That’s a surprise. Back then, when you were so easily manipulated into attacking the Demon Realm... Shouldn’t you be ashamed? That a lowly deity could deceive the entire Heaven Realm?"

"Princess Esmeray—" another voice cut through, calm and commanding.

She turned her head.

The God of War.

He handed Ember over to Morpheus and walked toward her, standing face to face.

The mortal enemies from the past.

Their gazes met squarely, both unyielding, both fierce.

Arlan stood quietly to the side, knowing his mate was more than capable of handling it. Instead, he went to his friend Drayce to check on him and Seren, to see if they were alright.

Arlan, leaned toward Drayce and whispered, "Are we going to see them fight now?"

"Looks like it," Drayce replied. "As long as they don’t actually harm each other..."

"I can’t guarantee my mate," Arlan muttered. "She might just try to kill him. Draven might at least hold back since she’s a woman."

Evanthe, busy taking care of Sierra, whispered to Solon, "There two were always like this?"

Solon hummed, "Both realms had to stay back whenever these two faced each other. Their words were always sharper than their swords. Both had best ways to insult each other."

Evanthe sighed, "No wonder, I never felt at ease with these two being around each other."

Meanwhile, Draven and Oriana...The God of War and the General of Demons...

"Heaven Realm accepts its shame," Draven said to her, his voice steady, "but the Demon Realm shouldn’t forget its own. You can’t overlook how Tharzimon—a lowly demon—managed to manipulate the previous Demon Lord Valeron and their supposed powerful and smart princess. And then dragged us all into war." His words mocking and sharp.

Their challenging gazes never wavered.

"Oh, you finally regained your memories after sleeping for thousands of years, Draven Aramis, a supposed powerful and cherished god of heaven realm?" Oriana smirked and then said coldly,"But you can’t deny it all started with your power-hungry Heaven Realm. Always wanting to be superior, as if the other two realms are dirt under your feet." Her gaze turned mocking. "Oh, I forgot—there is no dirt in Heaven Realm. Everything’s pure and clean. Only we demons are born out of dirt, right?"

"We never considered the Demon Realm that way," Draven replied with his usual arrogant calm. "But your own self-doubts, insecurities, adequacies and greed to covet what’s not yours, led you to think that. Now you are reborn, I suppose you know what’s right thing to do."

"The right thing for me would be always to show your heaven realm their true place," she countered, "How about I drag all of you to hell?"

"Sure! I will allow to cherish that dream for a while," he said as if he didn’t take her seriously anymore. "But at this moment, Princess Esmeray, I advise you to forget the past and misunderstanding caused by scheming people. We should look forward—to the future."

"Future?" she chuckled darkly. "Sure." She pointed to her black sword towards Isis. "But only after I kill this wicked woman and drag her soul to the depths of hell."

"That, I cannot allow," Draven said with finality. "She is a culprit of the Heaven Realm and will be punished accordingly."

"Do I look like I’m asking for your permission?" Oriana’s voice was cold, her gaze even colder.

Oriana raised her sword, pointing it at Draven. "God of War, how about we finish what was left unfinished back then? The winner gets to decide what happens to the villain."

"In the past, you were already defeated," Draven said, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. "But if you insist—then so be it."

He was just about to draw his blade when—

The hellfire shook dangerously.

Its flames surged, roaring with fury, threatening to spiral out of control.

"Both of you should keep it for later," Grianor’s authoritative voice interrupted them. "We still need to deal with the hellfire. It might bring chaos to all three realms—leaving nothing behind for you two to fight over."

The enmity between Draven and Esmeray was nothing new to them.

"Drayvor, what happened?" Grianor asked.

"I can only control the hellfire for the time being," Drayvor replied, his voice strained. "But I’m not its owner. Sooner or later, it will get out of my control—and right now, that sooner doesn’t look very far."

Both Draven and Oriana turned their eyes toward the hellfire. Its size was growing slowly, and its glow had turned volatile, pulsing with unstable fury.

Oriana pointed her sword toward it. The blade emitted absolute darkness—the power of hell—which helped Drayvor stabilize the hellfire more firmly for the moment.

"Draven," Morpheus called, "Ember doesn’t look good."

Draven rushed over and saw her pale, pain-stricken face.

Meanwhile, Grianor turned back to Drayvor. "What do you suggest?"

"We have to make a decision," Drayvor said, the veins of darkness across his skin growing darker as he poured more of his power into keeping the hellfire restrained.

"Then send it to where it belongs," Grianor declared, turning his gaze toward Ember. "It belongs to her."

Everyone heard it. The Deities were left shocked and scared with the thought if the deity of fire regains her power, then what will happen to them.