Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1380: Michael Can’t Do Anything

Father Black slowly turned toward the hologram hovering at the edge of the chamber.

"Tomato," he said, his voice calm but heavy with expectation.

"What is going on?"

For once, the ever-confident devil woman did not grin.

Her golden pupils narrowed, reflecting something vast—something wrong.

"If I told you," she said quietly, "you wouldn’t believe me. Come and see for yourself. Old man."

Father Black did not ask another question.

He rose.

Demeter stood with him, sensing it instantly. In the next heartbeat, the chamber emptied—gods, elites, mortals of legend—all launching into the void, tearing through atmosphere and gravity alike, racing toward the source of that trumpet call.

And then—They saw it.

A gate.

No—THE Gate.

A colossal construct the size of a planet, floating in the void as if space itself were kneeling before it. It was forged entirely of unearthly light and living movinh gold, its surface inscribed with moving runes older than stars. From it poured sound—not noise, but hymns, layered upon hymns, sung by voices that did not require lungs or voice.

The music alone made weaker beings tremble.

No one needed an introduction.

Deep within their souls, past memory and reason, a truth settled like iron.

That was the place. That was Heaven. The place scholars had theorised about, searching for its location all over the universe, hoping to be found worthy to reach.

Many had prayed, many had longed, and others had done terrible things to reach. The place beyond reason or strength.

And yet, just like that, it had appeared in front if the Eighth earth unannounced.

This was incredible news. This was news that eoukd shake any and all religions I the known universe.

Alexander exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.

"To think they would show up now... I take the mission to alert heaven was a success The timeline must have finally caught up. But this timing, this timing," he frowned, "not good."

Kanada nodded beside him, eyes reflecting the gate’s radiance.

"I fear you are right. This moment is really bad timing."

The gate opened. It was not violent or even dramatic.

But with a kind of absolute authority.

And from it surged a host of angels.

Endless ranks.

White wings unfurled like blinding banners, each feather edged in gold.

They rode Heaven Beasts—lions of light, serpents made of living scripture, winged constructs bathed in precious stones and radiant metals that bent physics around them.

Let’s just even space recoiled in respect to these pure beings.

At their forefront rode a figure that made even gods stiffen.

A man astride a twelve-legged horse, each leg stepping on nothing yet shaking reality with every stride.

He bore six pairs of wings, vast and immaculate, layered from the back of his head down to his feet. His presence was sharp, disciplined, absolute.

All who saw him knew. The name did not need to be spoken.

It just appeared directly in the heart.

Michael.

Archangel.

General of Heaven’s Host.

The one who cast Lucifer from the skies.

At his right rode another—armor pristine, eyes sharp, radiating combat readiness equal to Michael’s own.

Raphael.

And at his left floated a calmer figure, wings folded, gaze thoughtful, robes inscribed with shifting symbols of knowledge.

Gabriel. He was Scholarly, like a Messenger.

Or a Witness.

Michael raised his blazing sword.

His voice carried across space, across realms, across fate itself.

"Host of Heaven. Engage. Lets teach this traitorous sinner a lesson he will remember for another million earth years."

The angels, white, beautiful and without blame, surged forward.

A tidal wave of divine wrath, crashing toward Lucifer’s armada of Fallen.

---

Opposite Them was the Throne of Morningstar

Lucifer sat upon his golden throne, but regardless of the new arrival, his six pairs of dark wings were relaxed, one arm resting lazily on the armrest.

He did not stand and definitely did not tense.

A flinch, hell no. It was as if everything that was happening was somehow within his control.

Honestly, if Michael had observed a little more, he would have sensed it.

But he was a being riddled with success that has trickled through the ages.

However one did not learn much from successes but rather failures.

At least, this was Lucifer’s train of thoughts.

As Heaven’s Host advanced, as the universe braced for annihilation, Lucifer merely turned his head slightly—and smiled.

A slow, knowing, infuriating smile.

"You’re late," Lucifer said softly.

His gaze met Michael’s across the void.

"Brother."

Gabriel not so far away frowned. He could tell something was not right. It was not until Michael waved his hands for the attack that he understood.

The contract hovering before father Black suddenly disappeared.

And then it appeared again, but it appeared before Heaven’s Host becoming a gazillion times larger, like a wall.

Michael paused.

He frowned and then attacked with his sword, but nothing happened.

Gabriel looked at the Contract. He opened his mouth to speak.

However as his voice rang out, what came was like a song.

Mortals on earth covered their ears in pain, some actually felt like running mad.

Kanada had to wave her hand, and runes rushed out of her form to protect the earth from the voice.

Even her felt her ears bleed slightly. But those of the lenny royal family heard Gabriel’s voice. Or rather, listened to the conversation between the brothers.

"It would seem like Lucifer had invoked the ancient pact with his blood as a Morningstar. As one whose blood is written in runes and laws, Even the known cosmos has to respect it. The universe will not let us interfere, not until the wager between either parties is settled."

Michael frowned. He understood this. He looked at lucifer, "cunning trash."

"Come on, brother. You have not seen your little brother for thousands of years, instead of a hug and a kiss, you throw insults?" Lucifer rolled his eyes.

Michael turned looking towards earth. "Are those the ants he has sent the contract?"

Gabriel looked at the contract, and nodded.

"From the looks of things, they have not yet accepted..."