Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1368: Make It Worth It.

...Far above the scarred battlefield, in the cold vacuum of space, the fallen angel that hung like an eye the size of the moon stirred. It had been in a fight with Tomato, but now, it sensed that it was needed—its white flame dimmed, its pupil a storm of twisting light.

A pulse. A void where one of its kin had been. A death.

Its vast gaze shifted—slowly, like a world turning on its axis—until the singular slit of its pupil locked on the blue-and-white marble of Earth. Within that endless gaze, celestial equations began to spiral. Its body, made of layered cornea and halo-fire, brightened. The iris began to dilate, concentric circles of light rippling outward, each a resonance frequency that rewrote gravity itself.

It was preparing another resurrection.

But Perseus saw it. He saw the subtle ripple in the starfield, the way the photons bent. His mind reeled as he recognized the signature—this was the same light that had revived the two Fallen Father Black had killed. His heart froze.

His voice cracked through the chaos.

"Tomato! It’s about to resurrect another one!"

Tomato’s frown tightened, her eyes blazing red like rubies under pressure. Her veins shimmered faintly as if each carried threads of molten Aether. "Not on my watch!" she roared.

Her body began to swell. The very air around her folded inward as if sucked into a miniature star. Her muscles expanded grotesquely, fibers snapping, then reforming stronger, tighter.

It wasn’t simple growth—it was compression. Every atom in her body began to compact, electron clouds forced into near-overlap without collapsing into fusion. Her skin steamed as energy loss in the form of radiation haloed her in a crimson glow.

To anyone watching, she looked like a living singularity of muscle—a woman weaponizing the Pauli exclusion principle itself. The field around her warped, light itself slowing as she dragged spacetime taut. Then, with a single exhale, she pulled all that force inward, condensing her entire form into a shape of pure kinetic intent.

Whoosh

She vanished.

A sonic ripple cracked the air as she broke the threshold of friction. Then her fist appeared—a meteor of condensed fury—crashing upward, aimed directly at the cosmic gaze above.

Her voice echoed through the shattered heavens:

"Arcane Power: VOID OF NOTHINGNESS!"

At that same moment, the moon-sized eye fired.

A colossal beam of blinding, silver light poured forth—pure resurrective essence, a divine algorithm meant to reverse entropy and rebuild flesh from memory. It sliced through the darkness like the blade of God itself.

Then—impact.

Tomato’s fist collided with the beam mid-trajectory. For an instant, reality froze. Then—chaos.

Waves of radiant and anti-radiant energy tore through the void. The clash ripped soundless shockwaves across the upper atmosphere. Space folded and unfolded violently, time staggering backward and forward in ripples. The Earth’s magnetic field screamed as auroras erupted across every hemisphere.

Her Void of Nothingness devoured light itself. An anti-energy reaction that consumed the resurrective photons on contact, stripping them of informational coherence. The divine beam flickered, fractured, and then—like glass meeting acid—it collapsed.

A thunderous implosion followed. The sky split with colorless fire as the resurrective ray snuffed out, consumed by Tomato’s strike.

For a heartbeat, the world went still. Then, as the feedback reached the eye, its sclera cracked. Fissures of black lightning spiderwebbed across its vast surface, and for the first time, the celestial being flinched.

Tomato hung in the air, steam rising from her skin, muscles twitching under the unbearable stress of the compression. She smirked faintly, blood trickling from her nose. "Told you," she muttered, "not on my watch."

However, she suddenly swayed left and right, passing out. As she did, she whispered to Perseus. "Now!"

Instantly, perseus rushed to grab her as he gave the order through the comms for them on earth to fire.

The angellic eye was too weak.

The explosion that proceeded brightened the sky like a second sun.

---

Meanwhile, within Athena’s Arcane Domain, the weeping Fallen froze. Its spectral tears stilled midair as it turned its head toward the sky of that realm—a sky now shimmering faintly as if reacting to something outside its control.

It could feel it.

The moon-sized eye—its celestial anchor—had failed to resurrect their slain kin. That was impossible. It meant the light had been erased. Not resisted, not deflected—erased.

Its molten eyes narrowed in disbelief.

It turned toward the last Fallen behind it. This one not flesh, but a living storm of lightning, humanoid only in silhouette, its form sparking and convulsing with celestial plasma.

The weeping one spoke, its tone hoarse but tinged with cold realization.

"It seems... we are now on our own."

The lightning-being tilted its head, crackling faintly. Then it smiled—thin, electric.

The weeping angel spoke again, "Do you plan to join in now?"

The one made of lightning twitched—and then crackled like a billion bolts compressed into a human shape. Its form stretched, snapping and reforming as streams of blinding plasma streaked through the air. Every flash illuminated the shattered world of rebirth around them, burning white scars into the crimson clouds. The air hissed as arcs of divine voltage carved molten lines into the ground, and even the tears that floated through Athena’s domain vaporized on contact.

Prophet Kanada immediately backed off, boots sliding over scorched earth until she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Athena. Her golden eyes flickered with a strange calm as she spoke—her voice low, almost teasing.

"You know, it would’ve been best if this was the one you killed instead."

Athena frowned, her blade shimmering faintly with embers of rebirth. "I know," she muttered, tightening her grip. "But how do I deal with something faster than I can swing?"

And she was right. From the beginning, that had been the reason she had gone for the other angel first. The crying Fallen had been powerful, but it was not as strong as yhis one. This one was pure voltage, unburdened by hesitation. If she’d attacked it first, she never would’ve landed the opening strike. Her blade would have met nothing but air, and she would have lost the one advantage she’d had—the privilege of the sneak attack.

The lightning-being tilted its head at them, faint arcs leaping from its body like tendrils seeking prey. Its grin was static, its voice layered with distortion. "Two mortals... and borrowed light. How quaint."

But Prophet Kanada only smiled. She leaned slightly toward Athena, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper—one that made the golden strings of fate around them vibrate softly in response.

"If it was just you, then maybe you’d be right. But you really underestimate the power of FATE."

Athena blinked, sensing something stir in the golden lines that laced the air.

Kanada’s eyes glowed now, brighter, like molten suns hiding behind human irises. "My Arcane Domain can only last another two minutes," she said, her voice steady even as cracks began to spread across her body from the strain of maintaining it.

Then she smiled wider, that maddening prophet’s smile that somehow carried both exhaustion and absolute certainty.

"Make it worth it."