Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1294: To Take Another Primary Plane

Enel turned sharply to Allison, his gaze locking onto her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. She stood a short distance away, her disheveled hair framing her face, her skin still glistening faintly from the earlier struggle. Clad only in the remnants of her undergarments, she looked both vulnerable and alluring.

He couldn’t stop himself. The adrenaline coursing through his veins demanded an outlet, and every fiber of his being gravitated toward her.

It wss possibly his connection to her, as her mate, but he did not mind.

Without a word, he kicked past the lifeless bodies on the ground and strode toward her with purpose.

Allison’s breath hitched as she watched him approach, his eyes smoldering with unspoken need.

It was as if a fire ignited within her, matching the raw hunger she saw in him.

The moment he reached her, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a fierce, heated kiss.

Their lips collided, the pent-up tension from everything that had transpired pouring out between them.

His hands roamed her body, tracing the curves of her waist before slipping beneath the remaining fabric, peeling it away as though it were a barrier to what he sought.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pressed herself closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

They moved together with urgency, their bodies tangling and connecting, a desperate expression of survival and passion.

He penetrated her in consuming fierceness.

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Every touch, every caress, was electric, and when they finally collapsed together in a heap on the floor, their breathing was ragged, their bodies entwined as though they could never bear to part.

Allison rested her head on Enel’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing the chaos in her mind.

Her fingers traced idle circles on his skin, her touch light and absentminded. "That reminds me... What about Lana?" she asked softly, breaking the silence.

Enel’s hand moved to her back, stroking gently as he responded, "What do you think?"

"She’s alive," Allison said with quiet certainty.

"Exactly," Enel replied with a slight chuckle. "I had her fake her death. Marian wouldn’t have shown her hand so easily if she thought Lana was still a factor. It also allowed Marian not yo suspect the trick with her own weapon. Besides, it was the only way to save her life."

Allison tilted her head to look up at him, her brow furrowed. "But it’s dangerous out there. Beyond the city—"

Enel cut her off, his voice steady and reassuring. "It’s dangerous everywhere, Allison. But don’t worry. She’s more resourceful than you think."

The conversation lulled, and eventually, they drifted into a quiet sleep, their bodies still tangled together as exhaustion claimed them.

---

The next morning, Allison woke to an empty room. She sat up slowly, the sunlight streaming through the narrow windows illuminating the space. She noticed with some surprise that the room had been cleared of the bodies. The faint scent of cleaning agents lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that still clung to her memory.

For a moment, she considered asking how Enel had managed it, but she swallowed the question. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the horrors of the previous night were gone.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed Enel standing by the far side of the room. He was dressed in ceremonial robes, the deep red fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and lean form.

The intricate gold embroidery shimmered in the light, catching her attention and holding it.

He looked… dashing. So much so that Allison felt a sudden, wicked temptation to pull him back into bed. Her cheeks warmed at the thought, but she quickly shook it off, knowing they had more pressing matters to attend to.

Enel turned, catching her staring. A faint smirk played on his lips as he approached her, his every step deliberate and confident. "Ready to face the day?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Allison nodded, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. "You clean up well," she said, her voice light but genuine.

Enel chuckled, offering her a hand to help her up. "You’re not so bad yourself," he replied, his eyes glinting with something that made her stomach flutter.

Allison slipped into the ceremonial robes that had been provided to them by the priests—robes matching Enel’s deep crimson attire, adorned with golden accents and intricate embroidery that seemed to shimmer with a life of its own.

The fabric was soft yet heavy. It was the uniform of those who had survived the Bowl of Forgiveness, a mark of both achievement and reverence.

As they stepped outside, the sound of bells echoed across the Holy City of Pep. The tones were rich and rhythmic, cascading over the city like a sacred melody, summoning all within to the grand ceremony. The air buzzed with anticipation, and the streets were alive with pilgrims making their way to the center of the city.

The sight was awe-inspiring. Pilgrims in white robes—thousands of them—moved as a single mass, their garments a sea of purity that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Here and there, though, crimson robes like Enel’s and Allison’s punctuated the crowd, a rare and striking contrast. These were the chosen few who had partaken of the Bowl of Forgiveness, their presence commanding quiet respect from the others.

They joined the procession, walking side by side toward the city’s heart. Rising before them was the Grand Sanctuary, a structure so magnificent it seemed almost otherworldly. The building was a towering spire of polished white stone that gleamed in the sunlight, its surface inscribed with ancient runes that glowed faintly with a golden hue. Massive archways carved with depictions of angels, demons, and celestial battles framed the entrance, and at its pinnacle, a great crystal dome caught the light, refracting it into dazzling rainbows that danced over the crowd below.

The atmosphere around the Sanctuary was heavy with reverence. The air itself seemed to hum with an unseen power, as though the building were alive, breathing the divinity it represented. This was the dwelling of the Prophet, the center of the Holy City, and the point where mortal and divine met for fleeting moments.

Every pilgrim would have their chance to stand before the Prophet, but only for ten precious seconds. Yet for those like Enel and Allison, who bore the crimson robes, an additional five seconds would be granted—a rare honor, accompanied by privileges unseen by the others.

However not long that they joined the proceedings, they were approached by a priest.

The same one from the day before that officiated the match Enel had with Prince Calcium and scholar Zobo.

Enek raised a brow at this, but he still followed as requested by the priest.

They were led through a door and into an underground tunnel.

On entering the place, it was made bright with runes on the walls.

This tunnel was unexpectedly too clean for a tunnel.

As if it was used, but only by certain people of importance.

Enel had an incredible mind and It soon figured out the lay out of the place with accordance to the map of the city.

Enel raised a brow to the realisation that they were being led to yet the center of the city. But thus route was shorter.

After a while, they were led to a room. This place might as well have been for VIPs.

"Wait here!" The priest added before he left.

---

Far away from the Holy City, the skies of a distant plane darkened with an ominous presence. Hosts of fallen angels descended upon the land, their ranks stretching across the heavens in perfect, disciplined formations. Their white wings were pristine and radiant, a stark contrast to the darkness they brought with them.

At the vanguard of the army flew their captains, each adorned in armor that shimmered with an unearthly brilliance. The breastplates were engraved with celestial symbols, their weapons glowing faintly as if imbued with divine fire. Behind them, rank upon rank of angels hovered in perfect unison, their spears and swords glinting in the pale light of the plane.

This was no ordinary plane, but the primary dominion of a powerful Demon Royal Family. The angels had come to seize it, their arrival signaling a confrontation that would reshape the balance of power.

The leaders of the host conferred briefly, their voices carrying a melodic resonance that could strike awe and fear in equal measure. With a single gesture from the commanding archangel, the formation surged forward, descending toward the plane below in a tide of radiance and retribution.

The air crackled with the tension of the coming conflict, and the ground seemed to tremble in anticipation. For those watching from the shadows of the Demon Royal Family’s citadels, it was clear: a battle unlike any other was about to unfold.