Chapter 3.2: Chains of Hell

  Samael stood at the center, blood still drying on his hand. A hard smile cut across his face.

  “What are you doing?” Michael shouted, voice splitting the chaos.

  Samael’s reply was a cool, terrible calm. “I will destroy Heaven. Those who stand in my way will perish.” He paused, voice colder still. “Innocent or not — I will not discriminate.”

  He raised his hand. A ripple passed through the ranks of the summoned — a command, absolute and final.

  “Attack,” he said.

  And the Garden of Eden became a battlefield.

  Michael barked out his orders without hesitation.

  “Eris, Raphael — hold them back! I’ll report this to the Lord!”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. His wings flared with golden light, and he vanished into the sky, leaving the two archangels behind in the storm of chaos.

  Eris and Raphael stood back-to-back, their blades glowing against the sea of demons that poured from the circle. The Garden of Eden — once a sanctuary of calm and divine beauty — had become a pit of shadows and blood.

  They fought with precision, wings slicing through the air, holy light flashing with every strike. For a while, they managed to hold the creatures at bay, their auras burning bright enough to keep the darkness from spreading beyond the trees.

  But the tide was endless.

  Demons clawed through roots and branches, swarming from every direction. Each time one fell, three more took its place. The angels’ strength began to wane. Their wings dulled, their light flickered — and still, they fought on.

  At last, their blades faltered. Clawed hands dragged them down, wings torn and armor cracked. They struggled, but the weight of the horde was too much.

  The battle was over.

  The demons didn’t kill them — not yet. Instead, they were bound in chains of shadow, their halos dimming as they were dragged across the ruined garden.

  Through the smoke and flame, Samael waited.

  A massive demon beast lumbered forward, its claws hooked around the limp forms of Eris and Raphael. It dropped them before Samael’s feet and bowed its head.

  Samael looked down at his captured comrades — once his equals, now broken before him. His expression was unreadable.

  The silence between them was heavier than any word he could have spoken.

  Eris raised her head weakly, blood staining her lips.

  “This won’t last, Samael,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant. “Once the Lord finds out, your little rebellion ends here.”

  Raphael forced a smirk despite the pain. “You’ve doomed yourself the moment He intervenes.”

  Samael tilted his head, the faintest grin curling on his face. Then, laughter — low at first, echoing like a ripple through the corrupted air — until it grew into something unholy, shaking the ground beneath them.

  “Once He finds out?” he said, eyes glowing with crimson light. “My dear siblings… by the time my father even realizes what’s happening, it will already be far too late.”

  He stepped closer, his shadow stretching over their fallen forms, a strange wind coiling around him as if the air itself bowed to his presence.

  “Did you really think I let Michael leave out of mercy?” he whispered. “No… I let him go because I needed him gone.”

  He turned his gaze toward the golden skyline of Heaven — where distant light was already dimming.

  “Even now,” he continued, “a true demon walks free within these walls. I summoned it from my own home, a creature born from the abyss itself — and it’s not alone. Its children are spreading through Heaven as we speak.”

  Eris’s eyes widened, horror dawning across her face.

  Samael smiled wider, his voice soft but filled with venom.

  “By the time my father looks down from his throne… the heavens will already be bleeding.”

  Demons were ranked in a hierarchy older than Heaven itself.

  First came the Demons

  — the lowest tier, chaotic and plentiful. Above them were the Demonic Beasts, feral entities far stronger and far more savage. Then stood the True Demons, creatures whose very presence warped reality and whose power dwarfed even that of the beasts. Beyond them were the Demon Lords

  — rulers among monsters, beings who commanded legions and ruled the infernal planes through sheer, unyielding might. And at the pinnacle of this dark hierarchy reigned The Demon King, the absolute sovereign of all demonic existence.

  Samael understood this order well.

  Given his current power — and the dangerous balance between his holy essence and the demonic circle he commanded — he could only summon one True Demon. But one was more than enough.

  He also knew the laws of Heaven would weaken the summoned creatures. The holy air itself burned against their infernal nature. But Samael had accounted for that — a small enchantment woven into the circle granted them limited resistance to the Heavenly Aura. Their strength would wane, yes… but only slightly.

  Samael smirked to himself, knowing full well that even diminished, a True Demon was more than capable of keeping Michael occupied.

  And while Michael fought that battle — Samael’s true plan would unfold unhindered.

  Eris’s voice trembled as she looked at Samael.

  “What… what is your goal in all this?”

  Samael’s gaze was steady, eyes glowing crimson.

  “Freedom,” he said simply. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She had no words. Silence stretched between them like a knife.

  Then Samael turned to both Eris and Raphael.

  “Join me,” he said. “Together, we can leave Heaven. Escape it all.”

  It took some convincing — whispers, doubts, and fear clawing at their resolve — but eventually, they agreed.

  The Garden of Eden trembled as Samael completed the summoning. Ten thousand demons rose, a writhing tide of darkness, claws and fangs gleaming, eyes burning like coals.

  They walked out together.

  The plains of Heaven had changed. Corpses of angels and demons lay side by side. Rivers of blood snaked through the grass, crimson reflecting the dying light. The day would be remembered forever as The Bloodied Heaven.

  Eris and Raphael recoiled at the carnage, horror written across their faces.

  Samael? He walked calmly. Over the bodies, he stepped lightly, careful not to touch the fallen angels. His focus was singular. The Palace.

  Nothing — not death, not chaos — would slow him now.

  They arrived at the battlefield.

  Michael fought fiercely, but it was no longer a one-on-one duel. Soldiers of Heaven had joined him, forming a fragile line against the True Demon’s rampage.

  The demon’s roar split the air. Michael’s gaze flicked toward Samael — and in that instant, his focus faltered.

  The True Demon struck with brutal precision, smashing him into the ground. Dust and blood rose around him. That was all it took. Michael was defeated.

  The demon rampaged onward, tearing through angels — even those fighting at Michael’s side. Limbs flew, wings were shredded, and the screams of the fallen echoed like a funeral dirge across the plains of Heaven.

  At last, the creature collapsed, drained from the sheer magnitude of its destruction.

  Samael smiled, a shadow across his face. “Well done,” he whispered — though the words remained in his mind, a private praise for the True Demon’s violence.

  He approached the battered Michael, who lay crumpled in a crater of his own making.

  “Join me,” Samael offered, voice calm, eyes glinting crimson, “like Eris and Raphael. We can leave Heaven together.”

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  Michael shook his head, pride unbroken despite the defeat.

  Samael’s smile widened slightly. Not surprised. Not disappointed. He turned and walked away, leaving Michael alone amidst the devastation — a king in a throne of his own shattered pride.

  Samael, Eris, and Raphael marched toward the Palace, their army of demons surging behind them like a living shadow.

  The Palace loomed ahead, its walls guarded by the most elite soldiers of Heaven — the last line of defense before one could reach The Lord.

  Without haste, Samael unleashed his horde. Demons tore into the soldiers, claws and fangs cutting through armor and light. Screams echoed off the marble walls, but Samael walked calmly, unbothered by the chaos he had created.

  A soldier, desperate and reckless, broke through the ranks and launched a surprise attack.

  Samael’s eyes didn’t even flicker. He stepped toward the soldier, deliberate and unhurried.

  Before the attack could land, a demon lunged from the shadows, teeth sinking into the soldier’s torso. A sickening tear, and the man was split in two.

  Samael continued forward, past the battlefield, past the carnage.

  Finally, he reached the Palace doors.

  With a steady hand, he pushed them open.

  And he walked in.

  Samael stepped into the chamber.

  The Lord was already there, calm and unshaken, seated upon His throne. Beside Him stood Michael, Eris, and Raphael.

  For a moment, Eris and Raphael were behind him — and then, without warning, they vanished. Shadows swallowed them, leaving only Samael and the two remaining figures.

  He remained unfazed.

  “We would have never truly joined you,” Eris’s voice echoed from the void. “We already knew where we belonged.”

  Samael laughed, dark and unyielding. “I knew from the beginning. You were never real, never loyal. And Michael…” He tilted his head toward the defeated archangel. “…even he was a pawn, crushed by the True Demon’s hand.”

  Shock flickered across the faces of the three angels, though The Lord remained perfectly composed.

  “You see through everything,” He said calmly, voice resonating like a bell across the chamber. “I am not surprised. Yet despite this, it has brought you exactly where we wanted you.”

  Samael’s crimson eyes narrowed. The game had only just begun.

  The Lord raised His hand. A golden light washed over Michael, Eris, and Raphael.

  “You may use your powers within the Palace,” His voice resonated. “Take him down.”

  Samael laughed, dark and low. Three against one. He knew their styles, their tendencies. This would be fun.

  They struck together. A coordinated attack, blades flashing, spells cracking through the air.

  Samael moved like a shadow. Every strike was dodged with effortless precision. Every attack they landed… repelled with a single, crushing punch.

  They were blown away, one by one, and it became clear: even with their newfound power, Samael was faster, stronger, untouchable.

  This was no longer their teammate. Not their friend.

  It was the full force of Samael — sharpened, perfected, unrestrained.

  Raphael and Michael charged head-on, a frontal assault to pin him down.

  Eris stayed back, weaving her magic into the fray, support from afar, a web of energy to trap and strike.

  Samael’s crimson eyes glinted as he prepared to meet them head-on.

  The Palace trembled around them.

  Michael and Raphael surged forward, swords in hand, Eris weaving her magic to strengthen their strikes.

  They launched into the air, rising high before plunging downward, blades slashing with deadly speed.

  Samael grinned. His bare arm met their swords. The metal screeched against flesh — yet he blocked effortlessly.

  Shock flashed across Michael and Raphael’s faces.

  They recovered instantly, following up with a coordinated assault: double kicks aimed at Samael’s face. He stumbled backward, but remained upright, eyes gleaming with amusement.

  Eris unleashed a massive fireball, the flames roaring toward Samael like a comet.

  He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and dodged — only to dive directly into a storm of sword strikes from Michael and Raphael.

  Steel clashed, sparks flew, and the Palace walls trembled.

  Samael’s grin widened. This was exactly the kind of chaos he thrived in.

  Samael’s hands shot out. He grabbed both swords, yanked them toward himself, and with a swift taekwondo scissor kick, sent Michael and Raphael hurtling to opposite sides of the room.

  He turned toward Eris, her long-range assaults gnawing at his patience.

  Before he could reach her, Michael and Raphael attacked from the flanks.

  Eris unleashed a massive ice ball, slamming directly into Samael. He was knocked backward, soaring through the air like a shadow thrown by the wind.

  But he landed. Feet steady, expression calm. Unfazed.

  The battle raged on. Michael and Raphael’s swords cut relentlessly. Eris hurled elemental magic — fire, ice, lightning — every attack aimed to slow him down.

  Samael twisted and ducked, dodging where he could, but most of their strikes landed, leaving marks across his body.

  Still, he moved like a predator in a storm, a grin flickering across his face. The chaos, the speed, the raw clash of magic and steel — it exhilarated him.

  Each hit fueled him. Each dodge sharpened him.

  The three angels realized they were no longer facing the Samael they knew.

  They were facing a force of nature.

  The battle raged on, unyielding, relentless.

  Time blurred. Hours turned to days, days to months. Michael, Raphael, and Eris pressed on, sustained by God’s blessing.

  But Samael… Samael never faltered. Never slowed. Where did such endless stamina come from? None of them could comprehend it.

  Three days passed.

  At last, they forced Samael to his knees.

  A final strike was prepared. Michael and Raphael’s swords crackled with lightning, amplified by Eris’s magic. The three of them advanced, synchronized, confident this would be the end.

  Samael’s head hung low. Then, slowly, he lifted it.

  His eyes glowed a deep, sinister red.

  The moment he looked up, the air itself resisted them. A violent wind surged outward from him, throwing the three angels backward.

  Unconsciously, the dark energy within Samael stirred.

  A swirling aura of purple, red, and black erupted, consuming him entirely.

  The pressure alone was enough to catch even The Lord’s attention.

  Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the storm subsided. The crushing wind died down.

  Yet the aura remained — a faint, ominous glow around Samael’s body, a warning of the power yet untapped.

  Samael didn’t understand the source of this new power, only that it was tied to the dark energy deep within him.

  There was no time for contemplation.

  He had reached a level on par with Michael, Raphael, and Eris.

  Eris’s eyes narrowed. “Hold them off,” she shouted. “I’m going to use my last resort.”

  She began to gather every elemental force she could control, weaving them into a massive sphere of magic.

  Michael and Raphael lunged at Samael, blades flashing.

  It was futile.

  Samael moved like liquid shadow, dodging with ease.

  Dark energy flared from his hands.

  Balls of pure, pulsing darkness struck Michael and Raphael in the stomach, sending them hurtling into the Palace walls.

  The air vibrated with their impact.

  Samael stood tall, eyes burning crimson, aura rippling around him.

  Eris’s massive elemental sphere swirled behind her, the room trembling with the promise of destruction.

  Samael strode toward Eris.

  Michael and Raphael lunged again, desperate, relentless.

  Their attacks failed—again and again. They slammed into the Palace walls, over and over, bruised and thrown back like ragdolls.

  Lucifer… no, Samael had surpassed them entirely. He was no longer on par. He was stronger. Far stronger.

  The cycle continued, Michael and Raphael attacking, failing, being thrown aside, while Samael advanced without effort.

  Finally, Eris finished her preparations.

  “Get out of the way,” she shouted to the others.

  A sphere of unstable, elemental magic, pulsating with every force she commanded, hurtled toward Samael.

  He did not flinch.

  He decided to take it head-on. Foolish? Absolutely. Dangerous? Without a doubt. But he moved forward anyway.

  The explosion erupted, shaking the Palace to its foundations. Smoke and debris filled the air.

  When the haze began to clear, crimson eyes burned bright through the settling dust.

  They could not believe it. Samael had survived.

  Then, as if the world itself exhaled, Samael collapsed.

  The dark aura that had surrounded him vanished entirely, leaving only silence and awe in its wake.

  Michael, Eris, and Raphael were exhausted, drained from the battle, but on The Lord’s command they moved to retrieve Samael.

  Michael and Raphael lifted him between them. Eris began turning back toward The Lord, only to hear a sudden, bone-jarring crash.

  Before she could react, a hand shot out, gripping her face and slamming her head into the ground.

  Michael and Raphael froze, shocked.

  Even half-beaten, Samael had risen again. He collapsed to his knees, only to rise moments later, eyes blazing.

  “It’s my turn,” he said, voice calm but filled with menace.

  The Lord observed with interest. Samael had withstood Eris’s unstable, all-consuming attack. Fascinating.

  White light erupted from The Lord’s eyes. He activated a spell known as The Hand of God.

  From the sky, a colossal white hand descended, forcing all who faced The Lord to their hands and knees.

  Samael, despite his strength, could do nothing. The hand’s power pinned him in place, crushing even his dark energy under its weight.

  The Lord hovered down from his throne, hands behind his back, a smirk playing across his face.

  “Kneeling suits you,” he mocked, his voice echoing through the chamber.

  The Lord’s voice was calm, yet laced with authority.

  “I could have ended your life the moment you entered the Palace,” he said, “but I chose not to.”

  He hovered above Samael, eyes glowing faintly.

  “You were brought to Heaven to serve me. To let you go—or worse, to kill you—would be a waste. Everything you’ve achieved… it is thanks to me.”

  Samael’s eyes burned with defiance.

  “You’re a fool,” he spat, voice sharp. “A fool for trusting me, for thinking I was yours to command.”

  He thought back to his younger self, weak and inexperienced. Helpless when Tomas needed him. Powerless when he was ripped from Chronos.

  Now, Samael knew the truth: only power mattered. Only strength could protect, could command, could escape.

  A promise formed in his mind, dark and unwavering.

  If he survived this, he would return every ounce of humiliation to those who deserved it.

  The dark energy within him surged, hungry and impatient.

  It seeped outward, forming a pitch-black mist that twisted and swirled around his body, whispering of the power that had long been waiting to be unleashed.

  Samael strained against the crushing force of The Hand of God.

  The Lord increased the pressure, intent on keeping him kneeling.

  But Samael would not stay down. Slowly, deliberately, he rose.

  “I will not kneel again,” he growled.

  The Lord’s voice was calm, but edged with warning.

  “Continue this, and your body will give out. You will die.”

  Samael’s eyes blazed.

  He let the dark aura consume him fully.

  Black mist surged outward, twisting and coiling like living shadows.

  The crushing force shattered. Samael broke free.

  He leapt toward The Supreme Being, voice echoing like thunder.

  “MY NAME IS… LUCIFERRRR!”

  Shock flashed in The Lord’s eyes.

  Lucifer closed the distance, every movement fluid, predatory, intent on striking.

  The Lord reacted instinctively. White-hot energy flared from his eyes.

  He activated the spell: Chains of Hell.

  The air itself screamed as spectral chains, blacker than night and hotter than the sun, erupted toward Lucifer, intent on binding him.

  The Chains of Hell was a spell of The Lord’s own invention, reserved for threats he did not wish to kill outright.

  When cast, a horde of black chains erupted from the depths of Hell, each one imbued with unquenchable flames that burned endlessly.

  The chains would wrap themselves around the target, constricting like living serpents, until they forged a metallic hellfire casket.

  Additional chains would coil around the casket, intensifying the infernal heat to unimaginable levels.

  Once fully encased, the chains dragged the casket down to the very realm of Hell.

  Inside, the victim would burn ceaselessly, their screams echoing with the rattling of chains as they were pulled deeper into torment.

  The spell’s horrific spectacle could incite panic among humans on Earth, so The Lord anchored the entire process in another dimension, away from mortal eyes.