Chapter 8: The Chains of Heaven
The Cathedral still smoked from the battle, though the fires had long been extinguished. The wounded had been moved. The dead were buried with haste and shallow prayers.
But the cracks in the world had only begun to widen.
In a silent chamber beneath the eastern wing, Icarus sat cross-legged, shirtless, the markings from his awakening still glowing faintly along his back like celestial circuitry. He stared into nothing, arms limp at his side.
"He's been like that for hours," Daiki said, leaning against the wall.
Ren tossed a stone across the floor. "He's meditating. Or possessed. Same difference."
Kaito didn't speak. He stood at the window, watching the sun rise through a haze of smoke.
"I saw the chain," he finally said. "Behind him. Not a symbol. Not magic. Something real. Ancient. Bound to him."
Daiki looked up. "What do you mean?"
Kaito's voice turned quiet. "Whatever the Vatican created in Icarus... it was chained to Heaven itself."
The Demon Rises
Far to the south, in the blood-soaked wastelands of Agnir, where no light touched the earth and no prayers were ever answered, a storm churned in reverse — clouds bleeding upward, not down.
A throne of twisted bone stood in the dark.
And upon it sat a demon with a thousand eyes.
Prince Veylas.
His voice slithered across dimensions, heard in the bones of men and the marrow of beasts.
"They awakened one," he hissed, fangs curling into a grin. "The cursed heir of the Archangel Chains."
A servant knelt beside him — a demon shaped like a nun, with rosaries made of teeth.
"The Vatican grows reckless," she said.
Veylas leaned forward, his claws clinking against the edge of his throne. "Then let them taste sin."
He lifted a hand.
And across the mortal world, demons began to stir — hidden, embedded, disguised in society. As old contracts cracked and hellfire leaked through the seams of faith, the balance between Heaven and Earth began to shift.
The Ministry Fractures
Back at the Cathedral, the Council gathered in secret chambers.
Ten high priests. Twelve advisors. One Grand Inquisitor.
And all of them argued.
"We cannot let the boy live!" one barked. "He is not one of us. He was made — forged — as a weapon!"
"He defeated three Trumpets," another whispered. "He is the key to salvation."
"He is the key to annihilation."
"We must hide him."
"We must use him."
At the head of the table sat Cardinal Yurei, silent, face wrapped in gold-inked bandages — a relic of a forgotten crusade. His left eye was the only visible part, and it glowed faintly blue.
"Enough," he said.
Silence fell like frost.
"We are at war. Not only with demons… but with shadows cast by our own brothers."
The Vatican had declared them Apostate.
But Yurei knew better — the real war was not between institutions.
It was between bloodlines and prophecies. Between truths that should have died, and children who should not exist.
The Boys Reunite
Later that evening, under the shattered moonlight, the Four met alone on the rooftop of the Cathedral ruins.
No priests. No chains. Just stars and smoke.
Icarus stood at the edge, his voice barely a whisper. "I remember their faces. The ones who tested me. Cut into me. They said I wasn't real. Just a vessel."
"You are real," Daiki said firmly. "You bleed like us. You cry like us."
"I don't sleep," Icarus replied. "I see echoes of the chain in my dreams."
Ren walked up beside him. "Then let's forge that chain into a whip and beat the hell out of whoever put it there."
Icarus smiled faintly.
Haru appeared last, holding an old scroll. "I found records in the lower sanctum. The Vatican has seven Archangel Projects. You were the first, Icarus."
"And the others?" Kaito asked.
"They were failures," Haru said. "Until now."
A Sudden Attack – But Not by Demons
The earth shook.
Sirens rang. Not holy bells, but war horns — old tech buried beneath the Ministry.
Explosions rocked the southern wall.
Ren drew his pistols. "What now!?"
A scout burst through the roof hatch. "Humans—! Not demons—! Apostles—!"
From the cliffs below, Vatican warships floated above the valley, firing anti-magic artillery into the forests.
Marching in front of the troops were armored Templars with glowing relic swords.
A tall figure in crimson plate stood at the head of the army — his helm shaped like a lion's skull, his armor pulsing with divine scripture.
"By order of the Holy Seat," his voice rang across the valley, "I come to collect the Ministry's heretics."
Ren sneered. "And let me guess… that's the friendly kind of collecting?"
The Battle of the Black Wall Begins
With a roar, the Ministry knights charged to meet them — old rifles in hand, powered by relic cores. The clash of tech and steel resounded like thunder.
Kaito unleashed a whirlwind across the battlefield, carving paths through enemy lines.
Ren snapped twin shots that burst into waves of heat, melting enemy cannons mid-fire.
Daiki raised walls of stone to shield civilians, holding entire buildings in place with raw force.
And Icarus?
He walked forward, calm amidst the chaos.
Chains emerged around him, singing in the air like the cries of the fallen. Each link pulsed with power drawn from something beyond understanding.
He whispered, "I am not your weapon…"
He raised his hand—
"…I am your reckoning."
A single wave of power pulsed from him.
And the sky… cracked.