Chapter 683 Fractured Wings, Fractured Hope

In a hidden room within the ruins of an ancient church, four angels—Ariel, Zadkiel, Remiel, and Asmodel—gathered without inviting Joanna. The night air in the room was cold, their wings appeared dull, with fibers that seemed to have lost their luster, the once eternal light now dimmed by doubt and resentment that loomed over them. Each angel carried the scars of past traumas, creating a tension that could be felt in the air.

Ariel, who had always been Michael's balance, gazed out the cracked window with a distant look, as if searching for answers beyond reach. She remembered the times when Joanna's light brought hope to the angels; now she felt powerless watching her friend fall. The color of her white wings began to gather dust, reflecting her troubled soul.

"Do you see what has happened to Joanna? She... is no longer the light that once led us. Michael's core has consumed her alive, erasing her humanity."

Remiel, with an expression full of pain and regret, looked down, his voice trembling. He feared repeating the same mistakes as a protector who had never been able to protect. As he bit his lower lip, the traces of tears on his cheeks were evident, symbols of his inner struggle between duty and helplessness.

"Do you want to rebel? We are not rebels, Ariel. Heaven has no voice here anymore."

Asmodel, the youngest and most emotional, often longed for the beautiful times before sorrow struck them, clenching her fists tightly as if trying to hold back tears. The heaviness of her breath depicted the helplessness that often plagued her thoughts.

"If we just wait, the people will hate us. Even the remaining protectors are starting to doubt—Joanna no longer speaks to anyone except her own shadow."

Zadkiel, the most loyal to the heavenly order, spoke softly. His sharp gaze was full of wisdom but held deep sadness over the decisions that had to be made. "Every step we take is fraught with risk; do you remember what happened to us when we were forced to choose between orders and conscience?" He looked down, recalling the moment he had to leave his friends for duty.

"If we want to survive, we must make our own decisions. Joanna has lost her way, but that is no reason to burn the world. I do not want to add blood to this silent road, but... who still believes in her?"

Those words echoed in the dark room, building a secret agreement:

Ariel proposed, "We should split up. Some of us will stay with Joanna—to ensure she does not lose herself further. The rest will go down to the people, becoming 'disguisers,' helping them escape, hide, or even—if necessary—negotiate directly with Earth." Her firmness was reflected in every word, even though her heart trembled with doubt.

Remiel looked at her anxiously, "You want to betray her?" His voice was filled with concern, reflecting the close bond that had formed between them before. Every time he remembered the battles that had changed their lives forever, the pain became more palpable. Ariel shook her head, "This is not betrayal. This... is salvation. If we do not act, there will be no soul left to save." There was strength in her voice, but also an undeniable doubt she could not hide.

Finally, that night, the angels—once one body in the will of heaven—decided to forge their own paths. Remiel, haunted by doubt, recalled the time when he was a watching angel—hearing and seeing the suffering of humanity without being able to do anything. At that moment, his body trembled, not only from fear but also from the memory of his decision to protect the helpless.

Three angels remained with Joanna, but now only as shadowy watchers. Seraphim, who had shimmering wings, believed she was still part of the divine will. However, the trauma of witnessing the fall of the Sanctuary had forged her into something stronger. With a sharp gaze, she struggled to suppress the desire to move against the rulers of Earth, remembering that she was born to protect, not to betray.

The other two angels infiltrated the people, disguising themselves, even offering protection to the fugitives, though at the risk of being branded eternal traitors. Metria, known for her grace, felt trapped between the divine orders she had always upheld and her sympathy for the oppressed. She constantly matched her movements with a softness that contrasted with the pain she felt in her heart. Beside her, Vesper, with a scar on her wing—a reminder of the battles they had fought—showed the tension that would lead them to a dramatic choice between loyalty or sacrifice.

Not long after the angels' split, the Earth forces under the command of the Five Pillars spread a new ultimatum throughout Thirtos and the ruins of Sanctuary Oda:

"No more negotiations. Anyone who hides a protector, angel, or two mothers carrying spiral wombs will be executed along with their families. Joanna Fate has three days to surrender, or her people will be burned along with this city."

The Earth soldiers read the announcement in every square:

Some of the people began to tremble, fearful but also angry—they had lived too long under the invisible threat, both from the heavens and the earth. Remiel, watching from afar, felt deep inner pain as he witnessed the terrified faces of the people he was supposed to protect. His heart was conflicted, torn between duty and humanity.

Some families began to negotiate quietly: surrendering, fighting back, or trying to escape with the help of an underground network led by the disguising angels. Each angel in this group bore the weight of past traumas; the oldest, an angel named Gabriel, known for the sacrifices he had made, watched his comrades fall while fighting against dark forces. His face displayed deep lines created by long-standing sorrow, his eyes glimmering with the darkness of unforgettable memories.

An old man shouted among the crowd,

"What good is it to believe in angels if they cannot even protect our children? What is the difference between Earth and heaven if all we receive is death and betrayal?"

Beside Gabriel, a young angel, Seraphina, with bright energy and enthusiasm, felt pressured by the people's doubts about them. She struggled to believe in her mission, recalling the nightmares that haunted her nights—the inability to save a little girl trapped in a fire during the attack. She was optimistic and physically quick, often waving her hands while speaking, as if the power of hope could touch the lost souls. Whispers of disbelief spread like a plague. In another corner, a mother who had just lost her husband whispered to her daughter:

"Joanna doesn't even know my name. Earth may kill us, but angels only bring false hope."

However, not all the people surrendered to despair.

The underground movement—with the help of the disguising angels who had experienced loss and hardship—built escape routes to the ancient forests, even to the ruins of other cities that still contained remnants of protective glyphs. Those involved felt bound by a sense of sorrow and anger, determined to change their fate.

Some of the remaining protectors decided to fight Earth through guerrilla tactics, relying on information brought by the traitorous angels who bore deep traumas from their pasts. In this movement, they carried with them a spirit of resistance that seemed to burn their fear into a force for action.

From the abandoned sanctuary tower, Joanna watched these changes:

She knew the aura of angels around her was beginning to fade, the angels' trust in her was slowly breaking, and the voices of the people grew louder, questioning the authority of the heavens. Joanna could feel the uncertainty among the angels, who had once been steadfast and full of conviction, now shaken by bitter experiences that changed their perspectives.

Michael's core trembled restlessly in her chest, a manifestation of uncontainable emotions. Now, Joanna could no longer distinguish Michael's voice from her own breath; the anxiety reflected the inner turmoil faced by all the angels in this difficult situation.

In silence, Joanna asked herself,

"If nothing remains, what is the point of carrying this burden? I inherit heaven but lose the world."

She realized that the ultimatum from Earth—not only a threat to the people but also a final test of her leadership. In the tension that enveloped her, she remembered the past, where she had once fought between heaven and earth. With her white wings, now beginning to fade, she felt the weight of hope she bore. If she ruled with an iron fist, she would only become a new tyranny. In her sharp gaze, there was a flash of memory of friends hurt by difficult decisions. If she surrendered, she would lose everything—her name, her legacy, even her own identity.

In the following days, chaos became the new face of war: amidst the soft light of the moon illuminating the night, the angels who chose to help the people began to have their identities revealed, their once graceful characters now appearing full of wounds, causing Earth to become increasingly brutal in its oppression. Every step carried history, and every movement reflected their uncertainty.

The people, who once resigned, now began to fight in silence: sabotaging Earth's forces, sabotaging food supplies—every action was a mirror of the determination that arose from the injustices they had suffered.

Yet all of this was done in the shadow of fear—fear of Earth, of angels, even of Joanna, who no longer descended to the tents, only observing from the cold stone tower. Behind her grace, a struggle between responsibility and past traumas haunted every angel.

On the last night of this chapter, two disguising angels returned to their secret place, bringing ten children and four elderly women they had managed to save from the Earth's massacre. With determined gazes, they shared stories of loss and sacrifice that had shaped their courage. Every movement reflected the bitter history they carried, merging with the hope for freedom that might come to fruition.

In the dark corridors, they knew: they were no longer part of the heavens, but not ordinary humans either. Each angel bore the heavy burden of the past—like Seraphiel, who felt the loss of comrades united in the battle against darkness, etching sorrow on the once shining graceful face. Or Luna, who often remembered the moments when she had to leave the human world to fulfill her heavenly calling, her face shrouded in deep longing. This made them doubt, feeling trapped in a new uncertainty.

Joanna herself, gazing at the starless sky, asked: Deep down, she felt a tension that stemmed not only from the current situation but also from many souls at odds with each other to fill that void.

"Is this the price to pay for a legacy? Is it worth trading all the light for a name whose meaning I do not even understand?"

That night, for the first time, the people began to rely on themselves. As they turned their attention to one another, the conflict among the angels grew more intense—Seraphiel and Luna stared at each other intently, reminding them of the friction within their increasingly fragile hierarchy. Angels lost one voice, the heavens lost their light. And the world waited, with a heartbeat full of anxiety—who would be the first to betray whom, and who would save whom, when there were no longer boundaries between sacrifice, leadership, and betrayal.