The skies above Hollow Petal boiled with light.
At first, the villagers thought it was a sign of blessing—another miracle granted by the god they now worshipped. But Talia knew better. She dropped her incense bowl mid-chant and whispered, "They've come."
Lucien stood at the peak of the Temple of Flesh and Flame, naked beneath his ceremonial cloak of tongues and veils, staring upward with a smile that could slice stone.
The clouds parted.
And from the rift descended Seraphiel—a four-winged angel clad in living gold, his eyes burning with righteous flame, and a blade that wept light.
"You've gone too far, Devourer," the angel declared, voice shaking the heavens.
Lucien licked his lips. "Not far enough."
Behind him, dozens of his priestesses moaned, crawling closer in worship. One offered her thigh. Another kissed the arch of his foot.
Seraphiel's face twisted with disgust.
"You defiled a Saint. You corrupted prayer into sin. You turned faith into… flesh."
Lucien tilted his head. "And?"
"You will be unmade."
The angel lunged.
The first clash cracked the temple's dome. Seraphiel's blade met Lucien's palm—and for a moment, divine metal met corrupted Qi. Sparks showered the sanctuary.
Lucien grunted, then twisted the energy, absorbing part of the impact and flinging the angel backward. But golden wings unfurled and righted the divine warrior mid-air.
From above, pillars of searing judgment rained down.
Lucien weaved between them, his body flashing like a meteor of shadow and scarlet light. When one beam struck near the altar, a priestess screamed in orgasm—dying as she climaxed, her soul flying into Lucien's Furnace.
"Your fire feeds me," he taunted.
Seraphiel snarled and summoned his second blade—this one forged from pure psalm, every swing echoing a celestial chorus.
But Lucien had learned.
His flames weren't just heat. They were faith inverted. Each time Seraphiel invoked a name of the divine, Lucien twisted it on his tongue, echoing it in reverse—and siphoned the holiness into his body.
"Dominus Lux!"
"Lux Dominated," Lucien replied, catching the attack and turning it into a wave of black fire.
The angel reeled.
And that's when Lucien struck back.
With a roar, he surged forward, his fists aflame, his Qi coiling like serpents. He punched Seraphiel out of the sky, sending the archangel crashing into the temple floor, cracking the sacred mosaic.
Lucien landed atop him.
Talia approached, her body smeared with worship, her voice trembling with ecstasy.
"Shall I bind him?"
Lucien nodded.
Chains made of inverted scripture wrapped around the angel's limbs. Seraphiel struggled, but the words burned his skin, searing faith into flesh.
"You think… you've won?" the angel growled.
Lucien crouched, gripping his jaw.
"I'm not here to win," he said. "I'm here to rewrite the rules."
Talia knelt beside the angel, whispering the twisted creed of the Furnace Lord. Seraphiel's divine aura flickered. Doubt entered his heart—just enough.
Lucien leaned in, lips brushing the angel's ear.
"I won't kill you. No. I'll convert you."
His hand slid down the angel's chest.
"Let me show you what faith feels like."
By dusk, the heavens had gone silent.
Seraphiel was gone—his armor stripped, his wings blackened, his halo dim.
Lucien now wore it as a crown.
And the Temple of Flesh and Flame burned brighter than ever.
But far above, beyond realms, the Throne Eternal stirred.
Lucien smirked.
"Send more."