Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1405: Against Michael.

Tomato frowned deeply, her red skin flushing darker with rage. She cracked her knuckles and stepped forward again, tail lashing. "You think one toss ends it? I'll rip those wings off!"

But King Alexander pushed her back gently, one hand on her shoulder. "Easy. You're trying to fight the oldest warrior in the cosmos with rough skills like that? Step aside and watch how it's done."

Tomato huffed but relented, crossing her arms.

Alexander stepped forward, his massive broadsword resting on his shoulder, crown spinning lazily above his head. The air seemed to thicken around him, his conqueror's aura pressing outward.

Even Angel Michael's avatar frowned, wings shifting slightly. He straightened, hands still empty.

Alexander smiled, eyes sharp. "I've walked more battlefields than anyone here—mortal or divine. I know how to handle angels like you."

The moment he moved, it was a blur. Alexander vanished in a burst of speed, sword swinging in a wide arc aimed for Michael's neck. The archangel reacted instantly, grabbing his dropped flaming sword from the sand to block. The clash rang out—bronze against holy flame, sparks flying like stars.

Alexander smirked, pulling back. "If you'd left that sword down, you'd be dead already."

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Arrogance."

Behind them, Athena had been weaving hell runes in the air—dark symbols glowing red, pulling infernal energy from the arena's shadow-infused walls. Flames erupted from her phoenix armor, blazing hotter than before. She launched forward, wings of fire spreading as she descended like a comet, spear thrusting toward Michael's side.

Michael spun, sword parrying Athena's spear with a burst of flame that forced her back. But Alexander was already there—broadsword slashing low at Michael's legs. The angel jumped, wings flapping once to gain height, and countered with a downward stab. Alexander rolled aside, crown pulsing as he summoned a spectral army—ghostly Macedonian warriors materializing around him, shields raised, spears thrusting in unison.

The ghosts swarmed Michael, their attacks phasing through his armor but draining his holy light. Michael swept his sword in a wide circle, holy flames exploding outward, shattering half the constructs. Athena flanked him then, her spear igniting with hellfire runes. She stabbed high—aiming for his wing joint—while Alexander charged low, broadsword hacking at his knee.

Michael blocked Athena's spear with his free arm, holy energy flaring to burn her, but she twisted away, flames from her armor countering his light. Alexander's sword grazed his leg, drawing golden ichor. The angel grunted, wings snapping forward—one feather-edge slicing across Alexander's chest, drawing blood.

Outside, on Earth, billions watched on screens. Cities erupted in cheers. "Go, Alexander! Show 'em!" Families screamed from rooftops, praising their fighters. "Athena's on fire—literally!" Bars overflowed with chants: "Earth's got gods too! Angels ain't invincible!" Social feeds exploded with praise: "King Alexander owning Michael! Humanity's comeback!"

Michael pressed back, sword swinging in precise arcs. He caught Alexander's broadsword mid-swing, locking blades, then headbutted the king—holy light bursting from his forehead. Alexander reeled, nose bleeding, but Athena was there, her rune-weaved flames forming a whip that lashed Michael's arm, scorching his armor black. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

The angel broke free, wings carrying him up. He dove down, sword thrusting like a meteor. Alexander raised his crown-empowered shield—a barrier of conquest runes—and blocked, the impact cratering the sand. Athena leaped, spear piercing Michael's side. Ichor sprayed. He twisted mid-air, grabbing her arm and flinging her away, but Alexander followed up—broadsword slashing across Michael's wing.

The blade bit deep. One wing severed clean, golden feathers scattering as it fell. Michael crashed to the sand, ichor pooling, his aura flickering.

Earth screamed louder. "They cut his wing! Earth's winning!"

Alexander's eyes gleamed as he watched Michael's severed wing hit the sand, golden feathers scattering like fallen stars. The archangel staggered back, ichor dripping from the stump, his holy aura flickering for the first time—like a candle caught in a sudden gust. Outside the platform, the Earth benches erupted in wild cheers, the young rune-blessed warriors pumping their fists. On screens across the planet, billions held their breath, then exploded in roars of triumph. "They cut his wing! The king's got him!" Chants echoed in cities: "Alexander! Athena! Tomato!"

The conqueror straightened, his massive broadsword still humming from the strike. A smirk tugged at his lips—slow, predatory, the kind worn by a man who'd toppled empires before breakfast. He planted the sword tip-down in the sand, leaning on it casually, as if this were just another skirmish in some forgotten field.

"You know," Alexander said, voice carrying across the platform with that timeless Macedonian drawl, "I've fought gods, titans, and beasts that could swallow armies whole. But you? You're just a glorified pigeon with a glow stick." He paused, letting the words sink in, then threw his head back and laughed—loud, booming, echoing through the arena like thunder from ancient battles. The sound rolled over the angel host, making lesser avatars flinch. Even Gabriel, still nursing his slapped cheek, looked away.

Tomato chuckled from the side, wiping blood from her lip, while Athena's phoenix armor flared brighter, her spear ready. The laugh cut the tension, turning fear into fuel for Earth's side.

Michael's remaining wings twitched. He straightened slowly, expression unreadable—stone carved from divine wrath. The severed stump sealed itself in a flash of light, but the loss hung heavy, a crack in his perfect form. He raised his flaming sword high, flames leaping higher, casting long shadows across the platform.

"This arena," Michael said, voice low but resonant, carrying the weight of eons, "is too small."

The words hung in the air. Then he swung his sword—not at Alexander, but in a wide, deliberate arc. Holy energy exploded outward, golden runes igniting in the void around them. The arena's shadow-infused barriers cracked, then shattered like glass under pressure.

"Arcane domain: Fortress of Divine Reckoning!"

The domain unfolded in an instant—a vast, terrifying expanse that swallowed the entire battlefield. Towering walls of unbreakable light rose miles high, etched with scenes of celestial judgments: fallen stars, shattered worlds, sinners turned to ash. The sky above became a dome of burning constellations, each star an eye watching, condemning. The ground transformed into polished marble veined with holy fire, every step echoing like a verdict. Pillars of flame dotted the landscape, and in the distance, ghostly choirs sang hymns that chilled the soul. The domain encompassed all of them—Alexander, Athena, Tomato, even the distant benches blurring at the edges. It was raw power made manifest: glorious in its majesty, frightening in its absoluteness, a realm where mercy was a forgotten word.

The moment it fully formed, Michael moved.

He vanished in a blaze of light—faster than before, the domain amplifying his every action. Alexander's smirk faded; he raised his broadsword instinctively, crown pulsing above his head. But Michael's sword was already there.

A single, horizontal slash.

The blade cut clean—through armor, flesh, bone. Alexander's body parted at the waist, upper half sliding free in a spray of blood. He didn't even have time to gasp. The conqueror's eyes widened in shock as he toppled, lower body collapsing to the marble floor, upper half hitting with a wet thud.

The arena—now the domain—fell silent. Earth's cheers died in throats. Tomato froze mid-step. Athena's flames guttered low.

Michael lowered his sword, ichor still dripping from his sealed wing stump.

"One down."