Rachel had given Lucifer a Divine Miracle.
Not a spell. Not a technique. A Divine Miracle. The kind that happened only when talent, desperation, and divine affinity all got fed into the same blender and someone hit "liquify."
Born from her Gift and her absurdly rare talent for Purelight, it was a surge of raw holy power—a blessing that wrapped around Lucifer like a second skin and supercharged his body to unnatural limits. It gave him wings, literally. Light-forged angel wings now shimmered behind him, burning mana to keep him airborne and fast enough to race thunder.
It should have been enough.
Maybe even more than enough.
But then her eyes met his—Arthur's.
Azure eyes. Brilliant. Unblinking. And full of something that cut deeper than any blade: pleading.
Those weren't the eyes of a man on a rampage. They were the eyes of someone drowning under the surface—begging silently, subtly, for someone to understand. To stop him. To save him, maybe. From others. From himself.
