"Yes you are right , it was foolish of me to think about retreating , we all promised Satou that we would protect his home" Said Loki while he prepares for the final battle of life or death.

"I wish everyone victory in the war " said lyra while she calls Satou names countlessly in her mind.

Seraphina let out a smile and then looked at the heroes right in front of her .

All four of them were exhausted. Wounded. Running on fumes.

Gattychan had maintained Villain’s Bane continuously for forty-three minutes—an unprecedented duration that was draining his divine power completely. His blessed sword felt heavy. His arms ached. His seven wounds from Seraphina’s blades burned with residual corruption.

Seraphelle had been healing continuously—patching critical wounds, maintaining Divine Sanctuary barriers, keeping Gattychan alive through sustained assault. Her divine magic was nearly depleted. She had maybe five more healing spells left before complete exhaustion.

Mikazelle had been teleporting defensively for forty-three minutes—repositioning heroes away from killing blows, creating dimensional barriers, maintaining spatial awareness of the entire battlefield. Her spatial magic was flickering, unreliable, on the verge of complete failure.

Rindelle had fired thirty-seven catastrophically amplified arrows—each one draining magical reserves, each one requiring enormous focus. She had maybe five arrows left before her bow became ordinary weapon.

They were dying by degrees.

And Seraphina—despite being suppressed to one-tenth power, despite fighting four heroes plus sixteen Fallen Heroes (all fourteen abominations now dead, killed over the course of the fight)—was still standing, still fighting, still dangerous.

How is she this strong? Gattychan thought desperately. Even at one-tenth power, even after forty minutes of sustained combat, she’s STILL winning this fight?

The four of them looked at each other , the four of them already agreeing to what to do next with just eye gestures because if they didn’t do it , they would die .

They had one final technique—forbidden, deadly, suicidal—but guaranteed to grant overwhelming strength .

Angelic Descent.

The technique every summoned Hero was taught during their initial training. The technique every Hero was warned never to use except in circumstances of absolute desperation. The technique that would grant divine power beyond mortal limits... at the cost of their lives.

Gattychan looked at his three companions—Seraphelle with her healing magic nearly depleted, Mikazelle with her spatial manipulation flickering, Rindelle with only five arrows remaining.

They were losing and not using it at this moment means instant death.

"We use it," Gattychan said quietly. "Angelic Descent. We end this now, regardless of cost."

Seraphelle’s eyes widened with horror. "Gattychan, that technique uses our life force as fuel! We’ll die! All of us!"

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Because if we don’t, she kills us and kills the others too." His blessed sword trembled in his grip. "We were summoned to fight evil. To protect humanity. To sacrifice ourselves if necessary."

He met each of his companions’ eyes.

"This is that moment. This is what we were summoned for. Not to grow old and retire. Not to live comfortable lives. To stand between humanity and darkness, and if necessary, to die making sure that darkness doesn’t spread."

Mikazelle stepped beside him, her spatial magic gathering despite exhaustion. "I’m with you. I didn’t ask to be summoned to this world, but now that I’m here... I won’t let a demon lord slaughter innocents if I can stop her."

Rindelle nocked her final arrow, her broken arm healed enough to draw the bow. "

Seraphelle looked at the three of them—her companions for three years, her friends who’d fought beside her through three campaigns, the people she’d healed countless times.

Tears streamed down her face.

"...if this is the Light’s will," she whispered. "If this is what we must do... then I’ll stand with you until the end."

The Four Heroes joined hands, their combined divine power beginning to manifest.

Seraphina felt the shift in energy and recognized what was coming.

They began the invocation together, their voices harmonizing into single prayer that seemed to make reality itself vibrate:

"DIVINE LIGHT, HEAR OUR PETITION—"

Golden energy erupted around them, not from their own depleted reserves but from somewhere beyond, somewhere higher, somewhere that existed outside normal dimensional space.

Seraphina felt the divine power building and attacked desperately, trying to stop the technique before completion.

Her corruption blades struck at Gattychan—

Mikazelle teleported him away, her spatial magic flaring with last reserves.

She charged Seraphelle—

Rindelle’s amplified arrow detonated between them, forcing Seraphina back.

"WE OFFER OURSELVES AS VESSELS—"

The air itself began tearing—not physically, but dimensionally. The barriers between mortal realm and higher planes of existence were being forced open by the sheer intensity of the Heroes’ prayer.

Through those tears, something vast was looking down. Something enormous. Something that existed on a scale that made demon lords and human armies seem insignificant.

"WE SACRIFICE OUR MORTAL FORMS—"

The Heroes’ bodies began to glow, their flesh becoming translucent as divine energy flooded through them. Their skin was becoming see-through, internal light shining through as if their bodies were lanterns rather than physical forms.

Gattychan felt his body changing—not painfully, but with the sensation of being filled beyond capacity. Like trying to pour an ocean into a cup.

"WE SURRENDER OUR LIFE FORCE—"

And here was the true cost.

Not mana. Not divine power. Not magical energy that would regenerate with rest.

Their actual life force—the fundamental energy that animated living beings, the essence that separated life from death.

Each minute of this technique would consume their remaining lifespan gradually

And they were invoking it with full commitment, knowing it would kill them.

"WE INVOKE THE DIVINE AUTHORITY—"

The tears in reality widened dramatically. Through the dimensional rifts, beings were descending—forms of pure golden light, entities that existed as concepts made manifest, divine servants who rarely entered mortal realm.

"ANGELIC DESCENT!"

Four pillars of golden-white light erupted from the Heroes’ positions, shooting into the sky like beacons visible for miles across the battlefield.

And through the four pillars of light, angels descended.

Angels—divine servants, celestial beings of pure holy power who existed in higher dimensions and only manifested in mortal realm under extraordinary circumstances requiring divine intervention.