Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1401 1401: Sharra Void-Tongue Again?

Unexpectedly, the victories had balanced themselves. Now, angels and humans were locked in a tie, with both sides holding an equal tally. Whispers rippled through the arena from the seats on either side. Yet, the stage was set for the greater demons to clash.

At last, she made her entrance. Sharra Void-Tongue.

The instant she appeared, Lucifer's face tightened in a frown. Memories flooded back from a century earlier. She had served as Tomato's loyal subordinate, clinching that crucial fight which rallied the mortals' spirits. Her success was what emboldened Father Black to demand his terms in those days.

Her wings ripped through the fabric of reality—six enormous, see-through void-wings etched with shifting runes that murmured in forgotten tongues. Her deep blue skin shimmered beneath the arena's glow. She could shift positions via screams, and her voice served as her most lethal tool.

As soon as she hit the combat area, Father Black greeted her with a wave. Sharra responded with a courteous bow. At the same time, young Elara let out a yell, hailing her. Sharra Void-Tongue grinned and returned the wave.

Athena chimed in. "What about your mistress, Tomato?"

Sharra gave a nod. "They'll arrive shortly. They wouldn't skip this for anything."

Athena nodded in return.

Gabriel gave the signal to begin. Sharra's foe descended: an avatar of a seven-winged angel, gripping a blade wreathed in scorching holy fire. Its armor radiated indestructible radiance, and it bore a shield carved with heavenly protections. The angel lunged ahead, its sword sweeping in a broad sweep that unleashed surges of cleansing blaze over the ground.

Sharra parted her lips and unleashed a deep cry. The noise twisted the atmosphere, shifting her behind the angel in a flash. She struck with a single void-wing, the runes upon it devouring the sacred flames during the blow. The angel whirled around, shield intercepting, yet the force splintered the protection a bit. Divine power wavered at the point of her wing's contact.

The angel retaliated with a stab, blade aimed straight at her torso. Sharra cried out once more—this time in a shrill tone—and shifted to its flank. Her call reverberated, shaping unseen edges that cut into the angel's wings. Plumes drifted down, scorched not by heat but by void decay. The angel roared, radiance erupting from its center to repel her. The surge struck Sharra, scorching her limb, but she chuckled. Her deep blue skin soaked up the sacred power, transforming it into dark, veined patterns.

Michael observed from the sidelines, his gaze sharpening. Her abilities appeared to consume sacred energy, perverting it to work against its source.

Sharra kept advancing. She released a layered wail—several tones blending—and shifted in quick flashes: to the left, to the right, overhead. Every cry bore void-runes that clung to the angel's armor, siphoning its brilliance. The angel lashed out frantically, its sword landing once on her wing. Void material splashed out, but it mended swiftly, the runes murmuring more intensely. She struck back with a mighty bellow, shifting right into its face. Her wings coiled around the angel, constricting. Sacred blaze ignited to escape, but the void-wings guzzled it, fading the shine.

The angel escaped with a frantic shield strike, fracturing Sharra's ribs. She spat dark blood yet smirked. "Sacred light? It tastes like cinders."

She cried out anew, shifting beneath it. Her voice spun into a whirlpool, dragging the angel downward. It fought back, wings flapping gusts of holy air, but the cry grew fiercer. Runes from her wings slithered onto its form, eating away at the armor. The angel plunged its sword down, nicking her shoulder. Sacred power burned her skin, but she drew it in, her hide growing even darker.

Michael edged closer. Her void acted as a perfect counter to sacred might—nullifying and tainting it upon touch.

Sharra shifted overhead now, her wings crashing down like mallets. The angel parried with its shield, but the blow demolished it, void-runes webbing fractures. It jabbed its sword upward, impaling her flank. Agony flickered in her gaze, but she seized the edge with her hands. Her skin hissed, yet the void claimed the sacred blaze, dulling the weapon. She wrenched it out, breaking the blade apart.

The angel pulled away, wings blazing for one last surge. Radiance burst forth, dazzling the entire arena. Sharra wailed right through it—her tone slicing the glow like a razor. She shifted into the heart of the explosion, wings folding fully around the angel. Runes intoned doom. The void compressed, sacred energy channeling into her, powering the crush.

The angel flailed, its light waning. No quarter given. Sharra's ultimate wail resounded—shifting her mouth to its throat. She clamped down, void ripping through. The avatar's head came off neatly, its form crumbling in instant defeat, embers vanishing into oblivion.

Sharra retreated, tasting the dark blood on her lips. The Earth side erupted in cheers. Michael's scowl deepened. Lucifer's eyes slitted with familiarity.

But Elara stuck out her tongue. "Eww... Sharra, how could you? You bit into a gross angel. Yuck."

"Pardon my rude behavior, Lady Elara." She bowed remorsefully.

Elara turned her head, still repulsed.

Father Black gestured approval, signaling a job well done.

In the meantime, Kanada had snuck down once more to greet her in a shadowy nook.

Gabriel advanced again, his features contorted in a sour grimace.

"The following bout starts now," he declared, his words booming over the arena.

From the Earth team, nobody stirred.

Gabriel's stare turned toward Father Black.

The Regent remained with folded arms, his beard motionless, face betraying nothing.

Father Black locked eyes with him and replied steadily.

"They'll appear. Wait just a moment."

Gabriel held on.

Silence gripped the arena.

No fighter entered the arena floor.

Ten minutes ticked by.

Gabriel lifted his arm.

"Per the regulations, Earth concedes this round. Heaven claims the win."

A tide of dismay swept the Earth seats—whispers, gasps, gripped hands.

Numerous expressions dropped.

The greater demon ranks formed their key advantage.

The top tier of the Lenny family—those slated for these closing fights—had failed to show.

Curiously, Father Black stayed composed.

And next to him, Alexander appeared utterly untroubled.

He reclined casually, savoring grapes slipped into his mouth one at a time, courtesy of little Elara's delicate fingers.

The king munched leisurely, lids half-closed, treating the concession like a minor annoyance.

On the angels' bench, Raphael voiced his thoughts. "They tossed away a vital victory just like that."

Michael scowled as well. "Indeed... it seems these mortals are plotting something."