This was a war against the ancient and enigmatic Winged Deity Punishment Church—a conflict involving Celestial Carving Academy, the New Wing Divine Church, and numerous other forces.
The swords of the Winged Deity Punishment Church had been drawn. The Twelve Winged Angels had all entered the battlefield.
September 11th. The dawn of this world-shaking war.
Whether they were heretics and apostates in the eyes of the Winged Deity Punishment Church, or the very church Kami Miraishi and Cecilia Ozbell sought to destroy—once war began, it would not end easily.
In an unnamed forest by the Western Sea.
Ravenous hunger and bone-deep exhaustion seeped into every inch of Sharkai Bai’s skin. His limbs felt leaden, his strength utterly drained. After enduring the pitch-black underground for a while, his head began to spin.
An hour ago, while en route to Cloud Peak, Sharkai Bai had clashed with the Eighth Winged Angel—one of the Twelve—and his followers. Their power had been unexpectedly overwhelming. A single earth magic spell had buried him alive beneath the soil.
Stale air and ceaseless digging had long since exhausted him. Just as despair crept in, he noticed the earth above felt different from what he’d been clawing through.
*Could it be…?*
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Bai redoubled his efforts. When the sharp stone in his hand finally broke through the last layer of dirt, a sliver of light stabbed into his eyes.
The sudden glare burned, nearly making him lose his grip.
*Whew… close call.*
Stabilizing himself, Sharkai Bai widened the hole with one final burst of strength and hauled himself up.
In that moment, he felt reborn.
Utterly spent, he collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. Only after regaining a shred of strength did he stagger to his feet.
The once-lush forest around him lay in ruins, littered with haphazard corpses.
*Damn… those Winged Deity Punishment Church bastards are strong.*
He’d barely exchanged blows with the Eighth Winged Angel before being buried—too slow to even activate Berserk Mode.
“Well now. Sharksea Clan brat. What brings you here?”
Kami Miraishi’s voice cut through the silence behind him.
Bai turned. Dressed in his ever-pristine white suit, Kami’s eyes gleamed with amusement. In his hand, he casually swung a spherical object—the severed head of the Eighth Winged Angel.
*No way… did he single-handedly turn this place to rubble?*
Bai saw no allies beside Kami. This man had effortlessly slaughtered the very angel who’d buried him alive—and all his followers—without breaking a sweat?
“The Eighth Winged Angel… slightly stronger than last time.”
Kami tugged the angel’s hair, swinging the dripping head. Fresh blood splattered the ground from the severed neck.
“Could you… maybe drop that pointless ball first?”
“Nonsense. A Grand Magus’s head is valuable material.”
The gore unsettled Bai slightly, but Kami’s words confirmed he intended to craft something from the trophy.
“Heading to Cloud Peak?”
Kami eyed Bai’s mud-caked, battered form—the boy who’d nearly died buried underground. He almost reached out to steady him.
“Uh… that was the plan. Still is.”
Even after facing the Eighth Winged Angel’s might, Sharkai Bai refused to abandon his mission to rescue Cecilia Xuelian and Cecilia Ozbell.
“Hah. Still haven’t learned your lesson?”
“You think I couldn’t beat that weakling you crushed so easily?”
Bai wouldn’t let anyone underestimate him—not even the New Wing Divine Church’s leader, the shadow pulling Celestial Carving Academy’s strings.
***
Above the Northern Kingdom.
The Twelfth Winged Angel, leading his faithful, had invaded the nation’s skies. Yet the man who should have been taunting his enemies now stood frozen, sweat beading on his brow and spine.
Even his sword trembled in his grip.
*Underestimation… a fatal mistake.*
His comrades had warned him: a terrifyingly powerful young fire mage lurked here. He’d dismissed it.
Before him floated a youth with wings of flame stretching dozens of meters wide. Behind the fiery figure rode an old man astride a colossal dragon.
Situ Sheng. Leader of the Five Dragon Kings.
Halredton. High Priest of the Northern Orthodox Church.
“Me? Fight this fool? Leave him to Emperor Feng and Nokiyak.”
“Ahem. He *is* the Twelfth Winged Angel’s top mage, after all.”
Situ Sheng crossed his arms, voice dripping with disdain. Halredton barely spared their foe a glance.
Their indifference was palpable.
But the Twelfth Winged Angel had heard every word.
“You heretics! I will! Eradicate! You! All!”
Even the weakest of the Twelve could not tolerate such open mockery.
Rage drowned fear. With a roar, the Twelfth Winged Angel charged Situ Sheng—eager to flay the arrogant mage alive.
***
Eastern Continent. A bamboo forest painted in serene green.
“How beautiful.”
The Tenth Winged Angel, accustomed to Cloud Peak’s sterile heights, strolled through the grove, observing the scenery. Not a trace of killing intent lingered on him.
Cloud Peak—the Winged Deity Punishment Church’s stronghold—wasn’t truly among the clouds. It crowned Orkoreth, the continent’s highest peak.
There, beyond the mist, lay only unchanging forests and eternal snow.
“So you’re one of the Twelve Winged Angels?”
At the forest’s edge, a long-haired youth in robes blocked the path. A black-sheathed sword hung at his waist.
Xuanyuan Yinghan.
“A battle mage. Impressive talent. But you cannot win against me.”
The Tenth Winged Angel spread his wings, fixing the youth with hollow eyes. His voice held no warmth.
“I came the moment I received word… Tell me—are you injured?”
Xuanyuan’s hand rested on his sword hilt. Yet he paused, as if remembering something vital.
The angel shook his head, expressionless.
In that instant of movement, the swordsman vanished.
“Good!”
Xuanyuan’s voice whispered in the angel’s ear.
***
Southern Desert. True to its name, this vast expanse dominated the continent’s southern reaches.
No reports of Winged Angel sightings had surfaced here—likely due to the harsh sands.
Yamamoto Takedazou, leader of the Wrath Mars Group, had mobilized every executive. They combed the desert depths for intel.
***
Beneath Celestial Carving Academy.
Aikua Hebrai Eburna, the academy’s founder, opened his eyes within a massive square crystal.
“Members of the Winged Deity Punishment Church.”
His voice remained unnervingly calm.
“You must be the strongest mage in this trash heap of a school.”
The First and Second Winged Angels shattered the dusty chamber door, drawn by the surging power within. Both unleashed their full strength.
“Though it feels like bullying juniors… eliminating you two will ease the burden on the children outside.”
Aikua Hebrai Eburna’s gaze locked onto them.
That emotionless face ignited primal fear in the angels’ hearts. Then his aura exploded—crushing, overwhelming—flooding the entire academy.
“Impossible! His power—”
“Gentlemen. To lure you here… I’ve been holding back quite a bit.”
Aikua’s eyes deepened. Skulls emerged from the shadows behind him.
In their final breath, the two mighty angels understood.
He’d drawn them here… simply to make killing easier.
