Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1377: The First Victory?

Azraelion’s wings flared, sending ripples capable of slicing asteroids into dust.

Dravul deflected one with a bone-spike from his back — the spike shattered, and pain rippled through him, but he did not break formation.

He launched upward.

Azraelion met him in mid-space, their clash sending fractal bursts of reality-blur outward.

Dravul roared:

"YOU FACE A DEMON OF TOMATO!"

Azraelion smiled with cold cruelty.

"And you... fool. You face extinction."

They tore into each other:

Dravul’s spear struck Azraelion’s chest, pushing him back half a kilometer.

Azraelion’s sword cut through half of Dravul’s void wolf, causing the beast to regenerate rapidly from void-light.

Bone spikes fired from Dravul’s back like railgun projectiles.

Azraelion summoned a dozen flaming halos that spun like guillotines.

Behind them, the full angelic host slammed into the rest of the devil-breed formation.

Wings of black flame.

Screams of void creatures.

Blue-skinned devil-warriors crashing against celestial titans.

The battlefield looked like a galaxy dying in slow motion.

Tomato watched from her command throne, claws tapping against the armrest, pupils shaking with a mixture of fear, rage, and excitement.

"Come on, Dravul..."

"...don’t die before I get there."

It had only been a short time, but in this short time, Tomato had gotten the opportunity to bond with her army.

Maybe it was because they were made from her cells, but she easily got along with them.

And even promised them a good life if they managed to win this war.

She was like a mother to them, and it always hurt a mother to see her children hurt.

Meanwhile...

Dravul felt it before it happened.

A pressure—

It was not physical, or spiritual.

It was Existential.

Azraelion’s twelve wings folded inward, forming what coukd only be described as a collapsing star of blackened grace.

His halos aligned behind him, spinning faster, fusing, screaming as they compressed into a single execution sigil.

"You were impressive," Azraelion said calmly.

"But you were never meant to survive."

He thrust his blade forward.

The strike did not cut space.

It erased it.

Dravul’s chest exploded in a spray of blue-black blood and shattered bone-spikes. His Iron Spine cracked—one by one—each fracture ringing like a funeral bell. His void wolf howled as half its body dissolved into nothingness.

Dravul was hurled backward, tumbling through space, his spear slipping from his grip.

Systems flared red inside him.

Void regeneration stalled.

Soul-integrity dropped below critical.

For the first time since his creation...

Dravul thought:

Azraelion advanced, sword lifting again, expression cold and absolute.

At the same time...

Inside the moon-sized fortress, Tomato was already on her feet.

Her armor peeled open at the seams as her scales flared gold-hot. Her devil tail lashed violently, cracking the command floor.

"That’s enough."

Power surged inside her—

That terrible raw power of unimaginable force.

She was a demon, but because of lenny, she was royalty blood.

Something even Lucifer would recognize. And he did. From the moment Dravul and his fighting force began to bleed, Lucifer had sensed Lenny’s touch in their veins.

In truth, it was a puzzle how the lenny family had not fallen.

From her pressure alone, Tomato’s ship the size of the moon trembled as if afraid.

She took one step forward—

But then Farher Black’s voice came through the comms.

"Tomato. Don’t."

The words cut sharper than any blade.

Her comm-link flared, Father Black’s voice came again. It was calmer—but heavy.

"You know the plan."

"This is not the moment to reveal our aces."

"Both sides are testing."

"You are of the Lenny Royal family. For all we know, If you move now, Lucifer will move next."

Tomato froze and her jaw clenched.

Her claws dug into her palms hard enough to draw blood.

She it.

But she knew he was right.

Slowly... she exhaled.

"...Damn it."

Her golden pupils narrowed.

"Fine."

She turned sharply.

"Sharra Void-Tongue. Help your brother."

"Yes, Commander Tomato."

Space warped.

A new presence unfolded from the fortress.

Sharra Void-Tongue.

Her wings tore open reality itself—six massive, translucent void-wings inscribed with moving runes that whispered in dead languages. Her blue skin was darker than Dravul’s, veins glowing like living abyssal rivers.

Her mouth opened slightly. And yes, as disturbing as it was, The void listened.

She launched. Not that she flew. As those wings did not need air, and this was space.

Instead, she...

Teleported through screams.

Azraelion sensed it a heartbeat too late.

Sharra appeared his formation.

Her voice echoed—

"Speak."

The void obeyed.

Azraelion’s halos twisted violently, turning inward. His wings spasmed as void-pressure crushed their holy structure.

He roared and swung his blade—

Sharra caught it with her bare hand. What Dravul had was more raw force. But Sharra had more cosmic magic.

The moment she caught the blade. Void flooded the weapon.

The sword screamed.

Then disintegrated.

Her wings wrapped around him like a closing coffin.

"You talk too much," she said softly.

She opened her mouth fully.

From it poured a torrent of weaponized void-language, syllables that devoured meaning itself.

Fallen angels had control over certain runes that built the universe, but Sharra was made different, a strength I the one area Tomato was weakest.

Basically, Tomato’s cells were inverted when creating her.

Instantly,

Azraelion’s chest detonated.

His wings were torn off one by one.

His halo collapsed and imploded, crushing his skull inward.

Sharra grabbed what remained of his head—

—and ripped it free.

Blood, blackened light, and divine ash sprayed across space.

She crushed the head in her fist.

Nothing remained.

The Fallen Host froze.

Dravul watched, barely conscious, as Sharra hovered over the corpse-stain and spoke:

"Commander eliminated."

On Earth—

The shields still burned gold across the skies.

But then... something changed.

The pressure lifted.

The dread thinned.

People looked up as the stars stabilized. Screens across the world updated.

A FALLEN COMMANDER TERMINATED.

Cheers erupted across the planet.

Men cried.

Women collapsed in relief.

Soldiers screamed in triumph.

Candles were raised again.

but in hope.

Father Black closed his eyes briefly.

"...Good."

Abd he was right, this was good for moral.

Tomato sat back down slowly, her excitement barely restrained.

Her tail curled.

"Next time," she muttered,

"I’m going myself."

Far beyond the battlefield... Something ancient smiled.

Lucifer had seen everything. And weirdly enough, he was pleased.

(Author’s note: Check out my latest contracted novel: F—Rank Soul Eater. I polished my writing to extreme levels)