Devil Slave (Satan system) Chapter 1404 1404: Pathetic.

Raphael's zig-zag sword lashed out once more, curving through the air to target Crusher's neck. The massive warrior managed a narrow block, his hammer slamming into the edge with bursts of sparks flying. Blood seeped from his injuries already, yet Crusher's gaze sharpened intensely. During the short break in the fight, he drew near to Perseus, his tone a deep growl.

"Use it now," Crusher murmured.

Perseus gave a firm nod. He gestured with his hands, green bolts of electricity snapping from his fingers.

"Arcane domain: House of Lightning!"

Suddenly, a barrier of roaring green power burst forth around the trio—drawing Crusher, Raphael, and Perseus within its grasp. The outside arena faded into a haze, as the domain trapped them in a chaotic tempest realm: thunder rolled without end, lightning streaked through a stormy sky, and the earth vibrated with raw electric force. The atmosphere carried a sharp metallic tang, each inhale buzzing with energy. Here, Perseus's abilities surged—his green strikes grew bolder and swifter, his body a whirlwind of lightning pace.

Raphael halted for a moment, his sword coiling in his hold. His golden glow wavered amid the emerald fog. "A pocket realm? Do you believe this prison can contain me?"

Perseus grinned, his beard sparking with static charge. "It'll do worse than contain you. It'll scorch you."

He shoved his palms ahead. Shapes of lightning took form—huge wolves crafted from green electricity, their eyes blazing, mouths clashing with booming snaps. Three charged at Raphael, their claws slashing the breeze. One latched onto the angel's thigh, currents racing through his protective gear. Raphael's body trembled, his sacred radiance fading at the bite's spot. He slashed with his sword, the zig-zag edge twisting to sever the wolf's head—it burst into a spray of sparks, though the blast still hurled him backward.

Crusher seized the moment to rush in, his hammer arcing broadly. The domain enhanced him as well—his sinews humming with stolen power, blows coming quicker. The hammer struck Raphael's flank, the collision roaring like thunder. Raphael stumbled, a fracture splitting his chest armor. Divine fluid oozed out, hissing on the charged surface below.

Perseus kept up the assault. Additional forms appeared: a bolt-spear launched from his hand, stabbing into Raphael's shoulder. The angel let out a grunt, his wings spreading wide. Yet another shape—a giant eagle woven from green lightning—swooped down from on high, its claws ripping at his rear. Raphael spun around, his sword curving to repel it, but the eagle's wings grazed him, sending trails of green energy slithering across his frame. His actions grew sluggish, his glow sputtering as though the domain sapped his strength.

"You sense it, don't you?" Perseus mocked, calling forth lightning chains that bound Raphael's limbs. "This is our turf. Your radiance can't prevail here."

Crusher pressed on, his hammer descending with force. Raphael parried using his sword, but the zig-zag weapon warped from the pressure, the blow forcing him down to a single knee. The chains constricted, green surges burning his flesh. His sacred energy faded more, wing feathers charring at the tips.

Raphael's eyes tightened. "Idiots. Do you imagine a mere storm can overshadow the holy?"

He lifted his unoccupied hand. Brilliance erupted from his center—pure, majestic, fearsome. "Arcane domain: Citadel of Eternal Judgment!"

Launching a domain within another's was deemed impossible by arcane rules. Such layered spaces were meant to break apart or crumble. Yet Raphael's might warped the very fabric of existence. His realm swelled like an exploding star, golden barriers of indestructible light surging outward. Judgment spires ascended, each crowned with gazes that cut through deceptions. The green barrier fractured, then exploded completely. Perseus's House of Lightning vanished entirely, replaced by this superior domain: an immense fortress of shining stone and flames, heavens teeming with phantom seraphim watchers, the terrain carved with symbols that purged wrongdoing in fire.

Perseus reeled away, his creations sputtering into nothing. "Impossible..."

Crusher let out a furious yell, hammer flailing in vain. Raphael blinked out in a blaze of light—materializing behind the brute. His zig-zag sword struck swiftly, twisting to hit the weak spot in Crusher's arm. A precise cut. The arm detached at the elbow, spinning through the air. But prior to landing, Raphael's divine glow intensified—reducing the limb to golden particles in mid-descent, dispersing like cinders on the breeze.

Crusher howled in agony, blood gushing from the severed end. He lashed out with his hammer using one hand, but Raphael had vanished once more.

Perseus dashed forward, green lightning spear jabbing out. Raphael rematerialized beside him. The sword arced unnaturally, carving across Perseus's midriff. A severe wound split open, blood flowing in torrents. Perseus sank to one knee, gripping the injury.

As the pair lay weakened, Raphael floated over them, sword still writhing in his grasp. He laughed softly—deep and vibrating, resounding across his domain.

"Is this the best humanity has to offer? Weaklings pretending at strength... laughable."

At the same time, King Alexander, Athena, and Tomato confronted Michael.

The archangel's manifestation released his fiery blade, allowing it to plunge point-down into the stage with a vibrating tone. He advanced, hands empty and lifted in a relaxed defensive stance—palms facing out, wings partially extended, like he sought a friendly bout instead of battle.

Tomato scowled, her crimson hide deepening in shade, tail thrashing at her back. "Oh, I'll force you to draw that blade."

She shot ahead like a comet—form streaking with velocity, limbs tensed for the clash. Her punch blasted toward Michael's features, infused with pure infernal might. Michael dodged with ease, a single wing sweeping to deflect the momentum. Tomato whirled in flight, her tail lashing like a jagged whip, targeting his throat.

Michael seized the tail during its arc, sacred energy igniting from his hand to scorch her hide. She snarled yet pulled away sharply, channeling the pull into a knee bash at his torso. He guarded with folded arms, the force booming like a peal of thunder, shoving him back slightly. Tomato surged closer, horns down, ramming like a charging beast—punches raining down: a left to the chin, a right to the side, tail curling to pierce his leg.

The angel evaded the majority, but a fist brushed his face, spilling golden essence. His wings thrust out, one edge of a feather cutting her limb in response. Tomato snarled, crimson dripping, and seized his wing—yanking fiercely to throw him off balance. Michael wrenched loose, turning the tug into a spinning elbow that smashed her collar. She wavered but retaliated with her tail, looping it around his limb and tugging hard.

He dropped to a knee—on purpose—and as she dove for the kill, Michael exploded upward. His open hands gripped her horns like iron clamps. Sacred power throbbed through his hold, searing her head. Tomato flailed, tail stabbing at random, fists hammering his torso—but he stood unyielding.

With a heave, Michael tossed her aside—using the horns as leverage, flinging her over the platform like discarded cloth. She crashed against the wall, dark symbols igniting to cushion the blow, then slumped in a pile.

Michael stood tall, wings tucking smoothly.

"Pathetic," he whispered.