Chapter 7: Confront and Battlefront

As Jophiel dangled helplessly in Lilith's grasp, Lucifer and the Archangels soared through the skies of Netherus, their determination to rescue their captive friend propelling them forward like a comet blazing across the heavens.

During their airborne journey, Uriel couldn't help but cast an intrigued gaze upon Lucifer's transformed devilish wings, which now bore the unmistakable mark of Lilith's demonic grace.

"Why do your wings look different now?" Uriel's voice rang out above the rushing wind, her eyes fixated on Lucifer's altered appendages.

Lucifer, his voice steady despite the urgency of their mission, replied, "These wings of mine, at this very moment, bear the essence of Lilith's demonic power."

Camael, ever inquisitive, posed a question of her own, "How did you come to possess Lilith's power?"

Lucifer, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, heaved a sigh. "Lilith's clone shared her power with me, with the intention that I would return to Hell and thwart Lilith's nefarious schemes. It wasn't my original plan, but circumstances have conspired to force my hand," he explained.

Uriel, her keen perception sensing a subtle shift in Lucifer's demeanor, offered her observation, "You've changed, Lucifer."

Lucifer's eyes momentarily met Uriel's, a hint of introspection in his gaze. "Have I?" he mused.

Amidst their soaring flight, Amenadiel's thoughts wandered to a different concern. "I remain perplexed by Diane's absence since our arrival in Bethlehem from Anadem," he admitted.

Camael, seeking to unravel the complex web of relationships and mysteries, asked, "Who is Diane?"

Amenadiel clarified, "She is Lilith's clone."

Camael paused, her thoughts churning as she digested this newfound piece of information before responding with a thoughtful, "Oh."

As they soared through the celestial expanse towards their perilous destination, Lucifer's voice cut through the rushing wind, laden with a heavy revelation.

"Remember the surprise attack near Ennemond's shop?" Lucifer began, his words tinged with a note of suspicion. "I have a hunch that Astaroth and Bael might have orchestrated that."

Amenadiel's brow furrowed as he processed this new piece of information. "Their target all along was Diane?" he inquired, his voice betraying a mix of surprise and concern.

Lucifer nodded in agreement. "It appears so," he confirmed.

Uriel chimed in with a thoughtful perspective. "So, Lilith's plan was to capture Diane first and then target Jophiel," she mused.

Amenadiel couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the unfolding events. He gripped his head lightly, letting out a subdued grunt. "I feel utterly out of place with everything that's transpired," he admitted, the weight of their mission and its complexities pressing down upon him.

Raphael, with his ever-calm demeanor, turned his gaze toward Amenadiel and posed a question that had been on his mind. "Amenadiel, what is it about Lilith's clone that concerns you so deeply?" he inquired.

Caught off guard by the directness of the question, Amenadiel hesitated for a moment before responding with a self-deprecating laugh. "You know," he began, "I find myself wondering the same thing."

As their celestial journey continued, Camael couldn't resist casting a smug and knowing glance in Amenadiel's direction. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous light, and she waited for his response.

Amenadiel, puzzled by her expression, couldn't help but inquire, "What's on your mind, your highness?"

Camael's demeanor remained enigmatic as she modestly looked away, her thoughts hidden behind a facade of indifference.

Meanwhile, Michael, the embodiment of grace and honor, gracefully ascended and joined Lucifer's side, their wings synchronized in the rhythm of their flight. Lucifer, with an air of gratitude, met Michael's gaze and immediately turned his attention toward the horizon, his voice tinged with sincerity.

"Thank you, Lucifer," Michael began, his words carrying a weight of unexpected camaraderie. "I never imagined I'd find myself standing alongside you in such a crucial moment. It's a genuine pleasure to have you as an ally, my brother," he expressed.

Lucifer, while appreciating the sentiment, didn't let the moment linger. "Save the pleasantries for later, Michael," he replied, his focus unwavering. "I'm doing this for Jophiel. She has shown me kindness ever since my fall following the war," he confessed, his eyes locking onto Michael's.

A hint of a smile graced Lucifer's lips as he continued, "I haven't experienced that kind of treatment since my rebellion."

As the ethereal mists slowly dissipated, revealing the sprawling vista of Netherus, the Archangels pressed on, their wings slicing through the celestial expanse with increasing speed. With each passing moment, they drew nearer to their destination, their determination unwavering.

Upon their arrival at Netherus' borders, their faces contorted with displeasure as they surveyed the haunting scene that unfolded before them. The once-idyllic realm had been marred by chaos and devastation, with cities and their inhabitants engulfed in turmoil.

Michael, with a hint of irony in his voice, couldn't resist a pointed comment. "This is truly your vision of an ideal world, isn't it?" he remarked, addressing Lucifer, who responded with a knowing smile.

As they glided past the beleaguered cities, they finally reached Sahuaro, the gateway to Hell itself. The imposing gates of the underworld beckoned ominously, a stark reminder of the gravity of their mission.

Their journey took them over a desolate horizon, a barren stretch of land untouched by life. It was here that Uriel's keen eyes caught a glimpse of something ominous—a fiery glow radiating from their intended destination.

Arriving at the source of the fiery illumination, they were met with a sight that sent chills down their celestial spines. Before them yawned a colossal, two hundred and thirty-foot-wide chasm, a fiery abyss that seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality. Lucifer, stepping forward, placed his hand upon the scorched ground, and the flames, as if in response to his touch, erupted with an explosive intensity.

"They still recognize their king," Lucifer remarked with a smugness that danced lightly upon his lips, observing the flames that flickered around them.

Camael, her eyes fixed on the immense fiery chasm before them, offered her succinct assessment. "It's a crater," she stated, the magnitude of the infernal gateway evident in her words.

The Archangels, their gaze locked onto the gaping maw of the abyss, shared their observations. "That's undoubtedly the gate of hell," Gabriel declared, the weight of the revelation heavy in his voice.

Amenadiel turned to Lucifer, his brow furrowing with curiosity. "So, how exactly do we enter it?" he inquired, his tone a blend of skepticism and anticipation.

Lucifer's response carried a hint of amusement. "Well," he began, his eyes meeting Amenadiel's, "you must allow yourself to be consumed by the fire."

Amenadiel's voice rose incredulously, his disbelief palpable. "Seriously?" he exclaimed.

Lucifer couldn't help but chuckle in response, the sound rich with dark humor. "Yes," he affirmed, his gaze unwavering. "It will transport you directly onto the bridge that leads to the colossal gates."

Uriel, ever the adventurous spirit, spoke up with a wry smile. "It does seem rather amusing to be devoured by fire," she remarked, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

Raphael, however, issued a cautionary note. "But be careful not to let it consume you entirely," he advised, his gaze shifting towards Uriel with a knowing look, sensing her penchant for mischief as she contemplated her next move.

Camael's observant eyes scanned their surroundings, and a puzzled look crossed her face. "Wait, where is Michael?" she inquired, a hint of concern tainting her voice.

The Archangels turned around, their wings flapping gracefully in anticipation, as Michael emerged from the shadows, clutching a small crystal dagger in his hands. The sight of the gleaming blade piqued their curiosity.

"What's that for?" Uriel questioned, her inquisitive nature leading the way.

Michael, his confidence unwavering, smiled enigmatically. "I'm calling someone from Heaven," he explained cryptically.

Uriel's curiosity deepened as she pressed for more information. "And who might that be?" she prodded.

A knowing gleam in his eyes, Michael responded with a simple, "You'll see."

With that, Michael handed over the crystal dagger to Uriel, who accepted it with a mix of intrigue and uncertainty. As the Archangels gathered around the fiery abyss, their attention focused on the impending leap into the unknown. Michael, taking a moment to survey their surroundings, peered down at the crater where the flames danced with an unpredictable fervor.

Lucifer, standing at the forefront, addressed the group with a question that hung heavily in the air. "Are you all ready?"

In response, a unanimous nod rippled through their ranks. Lucifer, his voice resonating with resolve, declared, "Very well."

With unwavering resolve and a shared sense of purpose, the Archangels leaped together into the raging fires that enveloped them, their forms disappearing into the infernal abyss. The flames greedily embraced them, swallowing them whole, and in an instant, they found themselves transported to their destination, standing on a desolate bridge that spanned the fiery chasm of Hell.

Their eyes widened in awe and trepidation as they gazed upon the colossal gates of Hell, which loomed before them with a malevolent grandeur. The Archangels fell into a reverent silence, their thoughts lost in the imposing presence of the infernal entrance.

Camael, her voice a mixture of amazement and disbelief, broke the silence with a colorful expression. "Sweet chili and red pepper; I never imagined that the gates of Hell could be this massive. They rival even the gates of Heaven," she remarked, her words carrying a sense of wonder.

Lucifer, his eyes aflame with determination, fixed his gaze upon the foreboding gates. "Hang on in there, Jophiel," he vowed, his voice carrying the weight of a promise made in the face of adversity.

Amidst the ancient and formidable powers that gathered, Lilith stood as one of the most formidable rivals, her presence a testament to her timeless strength and cunning. For Lilith, the reunion with Jophiel held a peculiar satisfaction, for their last encounter had taken place in the earliest days of existence.

As the moment of their confrontation arrived, Lilith couldn't contain the wicked delight that danced in her eyes. Her millennia of plotting and scheming had led to this very moment, and her motives concerning Jophiel were both intricate and ancient.

With a flourish, Lilith manifested herself, her form materializing before Jophiel, a wicked smile playing upon her lips. "Greetings, Beauty of God," she purred, her voice dripping with an eerie mix of charm and menace.

Jophiel, who had known Lilith's treacherous ways since the dawn of creation, greeted her rival with a wry and knowing tone. "If it isn't the First Woman," she retorted, her words carrying a hint of irony.

In the heart of the dark and foreboding chamber, the air thick with tension, Lilith meticulously placed a delicate flower at the center of the intricately drawn pentagram beneath Jophiel's suspended form. As the flower settled into its designated spot, a radiant glow emanated from the pentagram, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Jophiel, her body bound by an unseen force, felt a creeping numbness envelop her, her strength ebbing away. Desperation welled up within her, and she struggled against her invisible restraints, but the radiant power of the pentagram rendered her powerless, a captive to its insidious energy.

Lilith, her cruel satisfaction evident in her soft laughter, stepped aside to observe the archangel's torment. "How magnificent," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with malevolent pleasure.

With a smirk, Lilith taunted her captive adversary. "Seeing the archangel struggling to escape—what a wretched sight," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

Refusing to succumb to her helplessness, Jophiel, with an act of sheer will, opened her hands and began to cast a spell, her form flickering with a determined brilliance. In an instant, she vanished from her confines, leaving Lilith momentarily taken aback.

However, Lilith, never one to be caught off guard, walked confidently beside the hollows that marked Jophiel's former location. She revealed the sinister secret behind her victory. "I'm afraid you can't cast a spell on me, archangel," she declared, her voice laced with wicked satisfaction.

With a casual wave of her hand, Lilith revealed the enchanted chains that encircled Jophiel's form. "These chains," she continued, "are enchanted to repel or disable any kind of cast. Of course, I placed them there, fully anticipating this very moment."

In the midst of her vulnerability, Jophiel mustered the strength to lift her head, her gaze fixed firmly upon Lilith, the architect of her current predicament. Her voice carried a blend of defiance and curiosity as she posed a crucial question, "What do you want from me?"

Lilith, an enigmatic and ancient figure, took a seat on the massive tail of a serpent-like creature that coiled around her, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence. The serpent, as if echoing Jophiel's question, inquired with a sense of ominous curiosity, "What do I want from you?"

Jophiel, despite her dire situation, couldn't help but acknowledge the cleverness of the query. "That's a clever question indeed," she admitted, her eyes locked onto Lilith's, ready for whatever revelation or demand her ancient rival would unveil.

Lilith, her gaze never wavering, contemplated the archangel's question with a hint of nostalgia. "Why don't we dispense with formalities?" she proposed, her voice carrying a tone of calculated curiosity. "Regarding you, my exile in the Garden of Eden," Lilith mused aloud, her eyes penetrating Jophiel's.

Jophiel, recognizing the gravity of Lilith's words, met her gaze unwaveringly and nodded in reluctant acknowledgment. "Lead the way, First Woman," she conceded, her response laden with a complex mix of resignation and determination.

In the dimly lit chamber, Lilith's voice cut through the tension like a dagger, bearing the weight of envy and anger as she fixed her gaze upon Jophiel. Her revelation hung in the air, a volatile mixture of resentment and fascination.

"After your exile, Jophiel, I found myself strangely captivated by your beauty," Lilith confessed, her words laced with an undertone of irritation. She rose to her feet, a subtle fury simmering beneath her composed exterior. "It vexes me, this beauty of yours. Yet, on the fourth occasion as our paths crossed, a delightful clash revealed something hidden, a power that rivaled me."

Jophiel, perplexed and slightly skeptical, couldn't help but question, "Power? What are you talking about?" Her sarcasm lingered in the air, blending with the charged atmosphere. "And yes, what a nostalgic clash that was."

As Lilith advanced towards her, a restrained rage bubbling within, she continued, "Truly, a nostalgia. At the moment of Eve's exile, I witnessed the sword you wielded. It was deadly, but more than that, a lurking presence, a Demon Edge concealed within that seemingly angelic blade. A visage of heaven, yet its essence whispered of the demonic."

Jophiel regarded Lilith with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, struggling to grasp the implications of her words.

Undeterred, Lilith pressed on with a bitter edge to her confession. "When I learned you ascended to the rank of an Archangel, chosen for your beauty, it filled me with an agony I cannot describe. Perhaps, I thought, you were chosen to herald our ultimate downfall."

In the midst of their tense confrontation, Jophiel countered Lilith's accusations with frustration and incredulity. "So, you're still driven by delusions to capture and execute me?" Her voice carried an unsettling crack. "Took you long enough."

Lilith, however, remained unmoved, a feigned superiority coloring her expression. She scoffed derisively, her words oozing condescension. "Even a glimpse of an atom, and you haven't the slightest inkling of what I speak."

Her patience wearing thin, Lilith responded with determination, "Luckily, Lucifer found me in the wilderness and saved my life. Perhaps it is fate that I must confront and thwart before it spirals beyond redemption."

Jophiel's eyes narrowed, frustration evident. "If you're referring to that sword," she declared, "it is no longer in my possession. And why would I be the key to anything?"

Lilith was momentarily taken aback. "Such a wisecracker," she retorted with a bitter laugh.

Jophiel's tone grew firm. "I am not jesting, Lilith."

Lilith's laughter persisted, a chilling sound echoing through the chamber. "So, you truly had no knowledge of this?" she questioned, her amusement evident. "How is it that the Almighty never deemed it necessary to enlighten you?"

Lilith waved her vile instrument of power, casting an eerie aura around her. Returning to her seat upon the serpent's tail, a sinister grin played upon her lips.

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore," Lilith taunted, her voice dripping with cruel satisfaction, "since you're now in my hands."

The pentagram beneath Jophiel's helpless form continued to glow with an ominous radiance, and Jophiel's struggles grew increasingly futile as she grunted and strained against her unseen restraints. Desperation painted her face as she managed to gasp out a single question, "What have you done to me?"

Lilith's eyes gleamed with malice as she revealed her sinister intent. "I am dismantling your trait of beauty," she declared, her tone laced with sadistic pleasure. "And only after I've stripped you of your grace will I consume it."

Jophiel could do nothing but endure the excruciating pain that washed over her, her grunts echoing through the chamber. In her agony, she reached out for help, her voice crying out silently into the void.

Lucifer, miles away but connected by an unspoken bond, suddenly felt a shiver run down his spine. He heard Jophiel's voice in his head, a desperate plea for assistance. At first, he questioned whether it was a mere figment of his imagination, but the urgency in her voice left him with no choice but to confront the grim reality unfolding in Hell's depths.

As they ventured further across the treacherous bridge, the scorching lava below surged and threatened to overflow onto them. The Archangels pressed forward, their determined strides unwavering, but the rising tides of molten fire grew increasingly perilous.

Amidst the impending danger, Camael, with her unwavering resolve, summoned her projection barriers, casting protective shields around them. The barriers bore the brunt of the fiery waves, ensuring that the Archangels remained unscathed by the searing impacts.

Eventually, they reached the colossal gates of Hell, where Lucifer's actions drew puzzled glances from his companions. Uriel, her curiosity piqued, couldn't resist inquiring, "What's the matter, Lucifer?"

In response, Lucifer pointed skyward, drawing their attention to the massive chains suspended above them. The Archangels followed his gaze and were met with the sight of the massive chains now unlocked, their ominous presence looming overhead.

Michael, ever the voice of reason, questioned, "Who could have been bound by those chains?"

Lucifer, his eyes scanning the abyss above, offered a sober assessment. "I genuinely wish I could answer that," he admitted, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "But one thing is clear—our presence here has not gone unnoticed. We have company," he declared, a sense of foreboding settling upon them like a shadow in the abyss.

As the Archangels turned to confront the unexpected threat from above, their gaze fixed upon a quartet of monstrous creatures perched menacingly atop the colossal gates of Hell. These were the legendary and feared dragons of the abyss, their malevolent presence casting an eerie shadow over the already foreboding landscape.

In unison, the Archangels drew their celestial weapons, their expressions etched with alarm and determination. The dragons, each one a nightmarish embodiment of fury and chaos, positioned themselves with strategic precision, effectively surrounding the celestial visitors.

Amidst the ominous growls that rumbled from the dragons' throats, Uriel spoke the name of their leader, her voice laced with urgency and concern. "Lucifer," she said, a plea for guidance and leadership.

One of the dragons, its eyes gleaming with a malicious intelligence, approached the Archangels with an imposing presence. With a voice that resonated with the echoes of time, the dragon known as Abeloth addressed them, its tone dripping with ominous implications. "We never thought the king would bring guests into the abyss after his fall in the war," it declared, its words carrying an eerie mixture of curiosity and malevolence.

Maevnusstut, addressing the fallen king with a mixture of disdain and curiosity, questioned his allegiance, "Are you now on their side, our king? Is it true that this archangel is in the queen's clutches and aiding these insignificant intruders?"

Lucifer, his brow furrowed in distress, clutched his head as he grappled with the complex web of allegiances and motivations that had brought them to this perilous juncture. "Truly, a beautiful disaster," he muttered, his words laden with a sense of resignation.

Michael, the steadfast leader, turned to Lucifer with a pressing question. "Should we launch an attack, Lucifer?"

Lucifer, however, offered a shrewd assessment of the situation, recognizing Lilith's cunning tactics. "I'm quite certain that Lilith has devised a strategy to separate us once we breach the gates," he explained, his gaze never leaving the encroaching dragons. "It's apparent that they're aware of our presence," he added, his voice tinged with caution.

Lucifer then outlined their plan of action. "Once we enter the gates," he began, "we shall split into separate groups. We do not know whether Lilith remains in her cell or resides in a different circle of Hell, given that there are nine in total." He looked at the approaching dragons, his determination unyielding.

"Michael," he continued, "you shall be accompanied by Camael and Uriel."

"Amenadiel," he directed, "you will be joined by Gabriel and Raphael."

Lucifer, his eyes aflame with resolve, unfolded his magnificent wings. "As for myself, I must confront my own companions, for I must pass through them," he declared, a sense of unwavering purpose driving his words. He turned his attention to the assembled Archangels with a reassuring smile. "We shall not falter in our mission. Together, we will rescue your beloved Jophiel."

United in their resolve and solidarity, the Archangels nodded in agreement, embracing Lucifer's plan with a shared determination to rescue Jophiel from the clutches of Lilith. As they prepared to move forward, the four menacing dragons launched a coordinated assault, their monstrous forms descending upon the celestial intruders.

Camael, swift and resourceful, called upon her abilities, erecting a formidable projection barrier that deflected the dragons' ferocious attacks. The barrier held strong, shielding the Archangels from the wrath of the abyssal creatures.

Meanwhile, Lucifer, his hand firmly pressed against the imposing gates of Hell, invoked his authority. With a resolute touch, the gates groaned and began to yield, slowly opening before them. As the gates parted, a horde of devilish denizens greeted their arrival, their sinister eyes gleaming with malevolence.

Michael and Gabriel, masters of divine power, combined their celestial energies, creating a radiant and swirling golden vortex. With a mighty gesture, they hurled the powerful energy towards the encroaching devils, scattering them like leaves in a tempest.

With the path now cleared, the Archangels raced onward, their footsteps echoing through the fiery abyss. They reached the entrances of the nine infernal circles, each a gateway to a realm of torment and despair. With determination burning in their hearts, they began to part ways, embarking on their separate journeys into the depths of Hell.

Yet, the relentless dragons continued to pursue them, their monstrous forms in hot pursuit. 

With swift and determined flight, Lucifer ascended to the pinnacle of the towering mountain where Lilith's cell was said to be located. However, upon reaching the cell, he was met with an unsettling sight—it was empty, devoid of any trace of Lilith's presence. Confusion and unease gnawed at him as he turned to survey his surroundings.

Before he could react, a powerful shock surged through his body, sending him crashing to the ground below. Pain coursed through his being as he struggled to regain his footing.

In the midst of his disorientation, a voice cut through the air, sending a shiver down Lucifer's spine. "Greetings, our king," it intoned, dripping with a sense of dark reverence, "and welcome back."

Lucifer, still recovering from the shock, grunted and slowly rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "So, this is the new covenant of how you treat your king," he remarked with a mixture of bitterness and defiance.

Dracul, an imposing figure among the Arch Demons, regarded Lucifer with a cold and calculating gaze. "Why did you bring those archangels here?" he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity and veiled menace.

Lucifer couldn't help but smirk, his defiance unwavering. "To save what needs to be saved," he declared, a determination to fulfill his mission burning within him.

The tension in the air was palpable as Lucifer stood before Dracul, a formidable adversary who commanded the power of a dragon of the Arch Demons. In the depths of Hell, the stage was set for a confrontation that would shape the destiny of both Heaven and Hell, as the fallen king faced off against the formidable dragon.

As the Archangels sprinted through the treacherous terrain of Hell, their minds raced with knowledge imparted by Lucifer and Amenadiel through their telekinetic communication. Michael, the steadfast leader, recalled Lucifer's earlier revelation about the nine circles of Hell, each representing a specific sin, while Amenadiel elaborated on the sinister princes associated with these sins.

"Lucifer informed us that every circle in Hell represents a different sin," Michael recounted, his voice resonating with authority.

Amenadiel chimed in from the other side of the group, adding, "And within these circles, there are princes, embodiments of the seven deadly sins. Four of them, to be precise."

The Archangels exchanged knowledge and insights as they continued their harrowing escape from the pursuing dragons. Uriel, ever the scholar, began to provide more detailed descriptions.

"First Circle: Limbo," Uriel explained, her voice carrying a sense of melancholy. "It's the retirement community of the afterlife, housing the unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Not Heaven, but a peculiar corner of Hell."

Gabriel, the bearer of wisdom, spoke next. "Second Circle: Lust," he intoned. "This circle is buffeted by ceaseless winds, and it's the final destination for those consumed by their desires. Asmodeus presides over this domain."

Camael, the warrior of the group, added a touch of personal frustration to her description. "Third Circle: Gluttony," she sighed. "Expect icy rain and slush for eternity, courtesy of Beelzebub. I may love food, but this is a tad excessive."

Raphael, the healer, continued the enumeration. "Fourth Circle: Greed," he noted, his voice tinged with disapproval. "Reserved for the excessively materialistic and money-driven. Mammon likely reigns here."

Michael, ever the vigilant leader, shared insights on the fifth circle. "Fifth Circle: Anger," he declared. "The wrathful souls here battle endlessly on the River of Styx, under Satan's watchful gaze."

Amenadiel, the bridge between worlds, delved into the sixth circle. "Sixth Circle: Heresy," he explained. "Here, heretics are entombed in flaming crypts, although heresy itself is a somewhat obscure sin in modern times."

Uriel resumed her narration with the seventh circle. "Seventh Circle: Violence," she began. "It consists of three rings, with the outermost filled with blood and fire—a dreadful place reserved for murderers and thugs."

Amenadiel picked up the thread again with the eighth circle. "Eighth Circle: Fraud," he noted. "This circle is subdivided into ten trenches, each harboring a unique form of deceit."

Uriel concluded their journey through the circles of Hell with the ninth and final circle. "Ninth Circle: Treachery," she stated, her voice growing somber. "It's a frozen wasteland, the home of history's greatest traitors."

Having recounted the nature and threats of each circle, Michael rallied his fellow Archangels. "Now, we all know the circles and what they entail," he declared. "Let us prepare ourselves for the possible encounters awaiting us, for we are their special guests."

Raphael couldn't help but smile at the notion. "Special guests, indeed."

With renewed resolve, the Archangels raised their voices in unison, invoking the grace of God to empower them. "Archangels, high-rank angels," Michael proclaimed, his words resonating with authority, "let the grace of God be within us."

"Hallelujah!" they all exclaimed in unity, their voices carrying a chorus of unwavering determination. With this divine invocation, they continued their frenzied escape, their celestial radiance contrasting sharply with the dark pursuit of the dragons that relentlessly chased them through the circles of Hell.

Amidst the eerie ambiance of the chamber, a devil rushed towards Lilith's altar, his urgency palpable as he delivered a crucial message. "Infiltration!" he declared, his voice laden with a sense of alarm that cut through the silence. Lilith, the enigmatic First Woman of Hell, turned around to face the messenger, her gaze sharp and calculating.

"The archangels and our king have arrived," the devil reported, and a glimmer of anticipation flickered in Jophiel's eyes upon hearing this long-awaited news.

Lilith, however, responded with an air of expectation, bowing her head slightly. "As I expected," she murmured, her voice carrying a note of detachment.

In response to her command, Lilith summoned ten enigmatic figures known as the Mortes Inferi, their forms shrouded in black hoods. These mysterious entities materialized before Lilith, their posture humble as they knelt in her presence. Lilith spoke with a sly smile, revealing her intricate plans.

"Give our special guests a genuinely warm welcome," she ordered, her eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I'm certain that the archdemons have chosen not to join us, for they wish to witness their king's true motives regarding the archangel." Her smirk revealed her awareness of the complex dynamics at play.

The ten black-hooded figures obeyed, casting aside their shrouds to reveal their faces. With unwavering loyalty, they responded in unison, "Yes, your majesty!" before dispersing to carry out their tasks.

Jophiel, resolute and undeterred, confronted Lilith with a bold declaration. "Your plan will ultimately fail," she asserted, her voice unwavering.

Lilith, however, displayed a calculated confidence, stretching her arms with an air of theatricality before casting a spell on the pentagram beneath Jophiel. The pentagram responded with a heightened radiance, its ominous glow intensifying.

Jophiel could not suppress a pained grunt as the pentagram's magic continued to take its toll. Lilith, amused by the archangel's suffering, approached her with a sinister smile and whispered, "Hang on, archangel."

As Jophiel fought to retain her strength and resilience, the First Woman reveled in her gradual victory. "We're nearing the conclusion of the first session," Lilith declared, her voice taking on an eerie cadence.

Jophiel, her breaths becoming more labored, managed a soft chuckle. "It won't be as easy as you think, First Woman," she retorted, her determination unwavering.

Despite the strain and torment she endured, Jophiel refused to yield. Lilith watched with cruel satisfaction, confident in her mastery of the situation. "Let's see who has the last laugh," she mused, her smile a chilling harbinger of the dark twists yet to come in this arcane battle of wills.

Amenadiel, Gabriel, and Raphael, driven by their unwavering determination to save Jophiel and confront the forces of Hell, reached a concealed passage that beckoned to them from a darkened corner. They wasted no time in stepping into the hidden path, their resolute gazes focused on the unknown ahead.

As they ventured deeper into the labyrinthine depths of Hell, the two menacing dragons that had pursued them from the previous circle found themselves unable to follow. The passage had eluded their grasp, leaving the Archangels to face their next challenge in solitude.

Upon their arrival, a biting coldness greeted them, accompanied by a ceaseless downpour of icy rain that seemed to stretch into eternity. It was the Third Circle, the domain of Gluttony, and its chilling atmosphere bore testament to the sin it embodied.

Raphael, ever the voice of wisdom among them, spoke first. "So, this is the Third Circle—gluttony," he observed, his words hanging in the frigid air.

Amenadiel, with his keen perception, scanned their surroundings. "I don't see any kind of altar here," he remarked, his brow furrowed in thought, "only a vast expanse of snow-covered terrain."

Gabriel, with his unwavering resolve, offered a cautionary note. "The mist of the snow is too thick," he noted, the veil of wintry fog obscuring their vision.

As they took in the desolate landscape, the Archangels knew that they stood on the threshold of a perilous encounter. "Prepare yourselves," Gabriel advised, his voice steady and resolute. "The Arch Demon of Gluttony is likely here, waiting for us to confront the embodiment of this sin."

As the Archangels cautiously treaded through the icy landscape of the Third Circle, an unforeseen danger abruptly materialized from above. Countless sharp needles descended upon them like a deadly hailstorm, forcing them to move with nimble agility as they dodged the perilous projectiles.

Their evasion, however, was short-lived as an unexpected spear-like blast hurtled towards them with astonishing speed. The blast struck them, propelling them against the sheer face of a snow-covered cliff. Buried beneath a blanket of snow, they grappled with the shock of the impact.

Emerging from the snowy aftermath, they found themselves surrounded by high-ranking devils, their malevolent weapons trained upon the beleaguered Archangels. Gabriel, the stalwart defender, swiftly cleared away the snow with his spear, aiding Raphael and Amenadiel as they struggled to regain their footing.

Bael, a formidable high-ranking devil, taunted them with a smirk. "What a reunion we have here!" he declared, his words laced with sardonic amusement.

Gabriel's displeasure at their presence was palpable, his countenance hardening as he prepared to face their adversaries. Amenadiel, equally resolute, readied his spear in response.

"So, we're dealing with the high-ranking devils," Gabriel acknowledged, his voice filled with determination.

Amenadiel concurred with a grim nod. "Indeed, but not the archdemon himself," he observed, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of their true adversary.

Facing the encircling high-ranking devils and standing at the precipice of a decision, Raphael's discerning gaze fell upon the next passage, beckoning them forward. Their adversaries, led by a high-ranking devil, blocked their path.

Amenadiel, seeking clarity in the heat of the moment, turned to Raphael. "Should we engage in combat with them, or attempt to bypass and proceed to the next passage?" he inquired, his voice reflecting the urgency of the situation.

Raphael weighed the options carefully before responding. "We must be prepared to fight," he declared, his voice resolute. "But if the opportunity arises for us to slip into that passage, we should not hesitate to seize it."

Gabriel, renowned for his straightforwardness, did not mince words as he conveyed the urgency of their mission. "Raphael is correct," he affirmed, his tone unwavering. "Time is of the essence, and the fate of Jophiel remains uncertain."

The high-ranking devils, none too pleased with Gabriel's blunt assessment, bristled at his words. Their leader, displaying a touch of defiance, responded to the archangel's boldness. "Do not elevate yourself too highly, archangel," he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain.

Amaymon, one of the high-ranking devils, chimed in with a hint of arrogance. "Even an archangel such as yourself will find it no easy task to vanquish us," he boasted, a challenge hanging in the frigid air.

Gabriel, renowned for his bluntness and fearless demeanor, acknowledged the challenge posed by the high-ranking devils. "Indeed, at that time," he conceded, his voice filled with a sense of unspoken resolve. However, before their adversaries could fully comprehend his intent, Gabriel made his move, taking a single step forward that defied the laws of time and space.

In an instant, Gabriel seemed to disperse into nothingness, leaving the high-ranking devil and his companions utterly bewildered by the archangel's sudden disappearance. As they struggled to comprehend what had transpired, a surge of celestial power surged through Gabriel.

"Strength of God: Great Cleave!" Gabriel declared with unwavering determination.

With unparalleled swiftness and precision, Gabriel launched a powerful punch towards Amaymon, the force of which created an area shaped like an isosceles trapezoid. The other four high-ranking devils, caught within this devastating strike, found themselves forcibly cast away, their forms hurtling through the air.

Pine trees splintered and shattered as the high-ranking devils crashed into them, their presence causing untold destruction. The force of the impact left them disoriented and battered, their arrogant boasts reduced to mere echoes amidst the wreckage.

As the dust settled, Amenadiel couldn't help but remark on the display of power they had just witnessed. "Archangel Gabriel is truly a force to be reckoned with when he becomes enraged," he observed, his voice tinged with a mixture of awe and respect.

The high-ranking devils, incensed by Gabriel's overwhelming display of power, unleashed their fury upon the Archangels. Trees were torn from their roots and hurled with reckless abandon, creating a chaotic storm of wood and debris. Amidst this tempest of destruction, Amenadiel took to the skies, his graceful flight allowing him to expertly slice through the airborne projectiles with precision.