Samael stepped into his chambers, the heavy silence pressing in around him. The recent duel still played in his mind, each blow and counter echoing louder than the last. He shut the door behind him and stared at the floor.

  "Did I make the right choice all those years ago?" he murmured to himself. "Choosing Uriel over Fafniel..."

  Though Uriel had won, the outcome felt hollow. Fafniel—raw, untamed, and relentless—remained the true ace of Dead-End. Samael couldn’t deny it anymore. A smirk tugged at his lips.

  "I’ll train him myself," he muttered. "He’ll become my rival."

  But as he left his chambers, an image flashed unbidden into his mind—a white-haired man cloaked in shadow. The smirk vanished, replaced by a grim frown. A pulse of unease tightened in his chest.

  "No... not again."

  Jophiel, passing by, caught the shift in his expression and followed.

  "Samael, are you alright?"

  He hesitated. "I’ll be fine."

  But Jophiel didn’t buy it. Her concern, however, soon gave way to a more superficial distraction. She had never seen Samael like this before. Her chest ached. Why now...of all times, does he look so beautiful?

  "Is that why you stopped me? You worry too much," he said with a weary smile.

  She studied him again—stripped of his terrifying aura, he looked vulnerable. Almost like he needed help. Which attracted her more to him.

  Samael blinked. "Phiel... Ophiel... Jophiel? Jophiel!"

  "Yes?!" she snapped out of her trance.

  "Are you just going to keep ogling me or tell me why you’re here?"

  She straightened. "You told me to be careful with my powers. What did you mean by that?"

  "Did I say that...? Hmm." He tapped his chin, eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought.

  Why am I acting like this? Why do I feel... drawn to him? She tried to refocus.

  "Ah, yes. It’s your true name—the Beauty of God."

  Her brow furrowed. "What does that do?"

  “It bends people—and even objects—to your will,” Samael said. “That’s why I was relieved when you beat Asmodiel.”

  Jophiel blinked. "I can really do that...?"

  "With training, yes. Come to Dead-End’s sessions and I’ll help you master it."

  She smiled. "Thank you, Samael. One last thing... why were your eyes red when you said that?"

  He froze. "Red?"

  Samael blinked—

  Red.

  How is that possible?

  Did he possess me?

  He clutched his chest. “Get out,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  His vision blurred.

  Suddenly, Jophiel stood before him—eyes wide, a hole in her chest, blood spilling from her mouth. He staggered back and looked at his hands. Blood. Everywhere.

  "What’s wrong? What did you see?" she asked.

  “Leave,” he said. But his voice cracked mid-word.

  Jophiel stared. Samael didn’t meet her eyes. He was trembling—barely—but enough.

  “I said LEAVE!”

  With a snap of his fingers, she vanished.

  Outside his room, Jophiel scowled. "Rude."

  Inside, Samael collapsed to the floor, clutching his head. "That can’t be possible. Who is strong enough to possess me? There are gaps in my knowledge, almost as if someone erased them. If I sleep, he might possess me again. I’ll cast [Purification] all night long."

  Later in the infirmary, Uriel awoke to find Fafniel at his bedside.

  "Master his powers before our next fight," Fafniel warned. "Or you’ll lose."

  Uriel didn’t reply, but the challenge was received. Next time, I’ll be first. I’ll train with Samael... and beat you, again.

  Not long after, Jophiel, Gabriele, and Adriel visited.

  "Congratulations," Gabriele smiled.

  "Thanks," Uriel nodded.

  Adriel stepped forward. "You used your wish on me... thank you."

  Uriel offered a faint smile. "Welcome back to Dead-End."

  That evening, Jophiel summoned the remaining archangels for a meeting. Though reluctant, they came, their expressions cold.

  "Azazel was right," Jophiel began. "Samael is replacing weaker archangels."

  Michael rolled his eyes. "We know. Why state the obvious?"

  "Because some of us are falling behind," she snapped. "At least two angels in Dead-End are already stronger than us. Soon, they all will be."

  The room fell silent.

  "That’s ridiculous," Azrael said. "Don’t compare us to yourself. You’re the weakest."

  "Really? How many of you can cast a [Divine Territory]? Or survive in someone else’s?"

  No one spoke. Then murmurs erupted.

  "They did that?" Gabriel said, stunned. "That shouldn’t be possible."

  Michael frowned. "I might be able to cast one, but surviving in one? That’s unheard of. Only Samael could do something like that."

  "Exactly," Azrael muttered. "We need to push harder; if they are replicating only things Samael can do, we need to do the same."

  "Agreed!" the others echoed.

  "There’s more," Jophiel added.

  Ariel groaned. "Seriously? What could be more impressive than surviving in another’s Territory?"

  “They landed consecutive [Divine Flashes].”

  The news stunned them; they remained silent for a few seconds before Michael spoke.

  “What? That move is supposed to be luck-based. How did they do that?”

  “I’ve heard enough, I’m going to train. I can’t let those youngsters overtake me.”

  Azrael left immediately. The rest followed, save Gabriel and Raphael.

  "Why aren’t you two leaving?" Jophiel asked.

  "We want to hear how Samael explained the two techniques," Raphael replied.

  “He hasn’t really explained much, but I’ll tell you what I pieced together.”

  She explained to the best of her abilities. They thanked her and quietly left.

  That night, Samael remained awake, the vision of Jophiel’s death looping endlessly. For the first time, he thought seriously about mortality.

  They rely on me too much...Every decision they make, every plan they implement. I make all of them. If something were to ever happen to me, they’ll...

  Alone in the war room, he created something terrifyingly precise—a machine that thought like him.

  The next morning, he gathered the archangels to show them his new creation and explained how it works.

  They asked why he’d built it, but he didn’t answer, worrying them.

  They theorised he made the machine so they would stop bothering and go about their training.

  Then, he joined Dead-End in a training room for a new lesson.

  “Can anyone tell me why there’s mana in the blood?” Samael asked, his tone unusually dull.

  Uriel raised his hand and was promptly chosen. “It’s because our mana circuits lie beneath our blood vessels,” he explained. “So when mana flows through the circuits, some naturally seeps into the bloodstream.” His eyes studied Samael. Is Master okay? He looks like he’s tired, that’s…unusual.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Correct,” Samael said. “Now, why is that important? Because of [Circuit Fusion]. It’s a technique you’ve all seen in action. Both Uriel and Fafniel used it to achieve greater power in their fight.”

  He looked each of them in the eye. “Put simply, it’s the fusion between your mana circuits and blood vessels.”

  “How do we do that?” Jophiel asked, glancing at Samael with growing concern. What happened to him? Yesterday he looked flawless—now he looks… different. His eyes have bags under them. Didn’t he sleep?

  “It’s simple,” Samael said, his voice flat. “Focus. Feel your mana circuits. Draw them toward your blood vessels—then activate [Genesis: Creation] to trigger the fusion. You’ll obviously need to continue feeding mana into the spell to maintain it.”

  Why are they staring at me like that?

  Is there something on my face?

  Did my eyes turn red again? His soul tensed.

  No… probably just my serious expression. He relaxed.

  “I’m confused,” Adriel admitted.

  “So am I,” Gabriele chimed in.

  “It’s like moving your soul. Focus — it’s easier than it sounds.”

  He shifted topics abruptly. “Now, Mana manipulation. You already do this when casting spells, when—now learn to do it consciously.”

  “We do?” Adriel blinked.

  He noticed Uriel and Jophiel sharing worried glances. So I’m not the only one noticing something’s off with Lord Samael’s appearance, Adriel thought. Maybe I should say something... But a chill ran down his spine. He kept silent.

  “Of course,” Gabriele said. “How else would we use chapters?”

  So, all Adriel’s techniques are instinctual? Samael narrowed his eyes. To come this far with so little understanding is quite impressive.

  He spoke aloud.

  “Partially correct. You’re all using the rudimentary form. [Genesis] does most of the work, translating thought into reality. But only those with refined mana control can draw out the true power of each chapter.”

  Interesting… I knew attending this class wasn’t a waste, Jophiel mused.

  “So, how do we do it consciously?” Adriel asked

  “Mana predates creation itself—woven finer than atoms. To control it effectively, you must feel it, not just use it,” Samael explained.

  “Manipulating something so small sounds impossible,” Jophiel said.

  “Is it? We already do it instinctively. As angels, we were created with both the understanding of mana and the ability to control it,” Samael answered. “Just concentrate. Visualise mana as particles, and control them. It’s easier than it seems.”

  “I see. So, what comes next?” Jophiel asked.

  “After fusing your circuits, increasing your mana is crucial,” Samael continued. “The only way to do this… is by forcing your heart to beat faster.”

  “Wow… I don’t think I can do this,” Gabriele murmured.

  Fafniel scoffed. “Giving up without trying is pathetic. You should be disappointed.”

  Before Gabriele could respond, Samael chimed in.

  “Take this seriously,” he warned. “Next session, you’ll use what you’ve learned to survive inside my [Divine Territory].”

  Everyone froze. The silence was deafening.

  “How are we supposed to do that?!” Jophiel exclaimed.

  “Master, that’s impossible,” Uriel added. “I lasted only a second in your Territory—and that was when you held back.”

  Samael’s gaze shifted. “Fafniel, do you agree with that answer?”

  Fafniel crossed his arms. “Uriel’s right—yours is far more refined than mine. Honestly, I doubt I’d survive in a Territory as well-crafted as yours. But… if you believe we’re capable, I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

  “Excellent answer. That’s the spirit I want to see. Now, begin circuit fusion.”

  Amid the divine training grounds, Uriel, having mastered [Circuit Fusion], guided Adriel and Gabriele through the delicate process. Samael, meanwhile, instructed Jophiel personally.

  “Have you grasped it yet?” Samael asked, watching her closely.

  “Not completely, but I’m getting there,” Jophiel replied, sweat beading on her brow.

  Samael nodded, then glanced toward Uriel. “He’s proving to be exceptional, don’t you think?”

  “Why are you asking me?” Jophiel said, surprised.

  “Because your judgment matters—and he was your teacher once,” Samael said. “Remember what we discussed during the assembly? Do you truly believe Uriel is ready to become an archangel?”

  “I do. He has grown far more than any of us predicted. I think he is ready,” she answered, then paused. “But the final decision lies with you.”

  “I believe he is,” Samael said. “He’s matured. That said… Fafniel might be a worthy archangel as well.”

  “Fafniel?” Jophiel scoffed. Her hands weaved mana into her veins. “He’s strong, no doubt. Might even beat Uriel in a rematch. But he lacks the heart. His pride and contempt for the weak are… dangerous.”

  “And what of it?” Samael asked flatly.

  She completed the fusion and rose to her feet, her forehead barely reaching Samael’s chin.

  “Of course you wouldn’t mind,” she said quietly. “But archangels should be willing to sacrifice for the greater good. There must be angels ready to lay down their lives for others.”

  “A valid point,” Samael acknowledged. “Still, our priority is ensuring fewer archangels die.”

  “Ironic,” Jophiel said, eyes narrowing. “You denounce sacrifice, yet you risked your life for me. Why?”

  Samael hesitated, then looked away.

  “I…”

  The words caught in his throat.

  A long pause.

  Then—

  “I had a feeling I wouldn’t.”

  Realisation struck him.

  No… it wasn’t just instinct—it was him. That phantom made me do it.

  Jophiel smirked. “So, it’s fine to gamble your life… as long as you’re sure you’ll win?”

  He said nothing. His thoughts spiralled.

  He’s been in my mind this whole time? But why, why make me save her, only to haunt me with her death? None of this adds up.

  “Samael!”

  Jophiel’s voice snapped him back. “You had that face again. Was it another terrible vision?”

  “Don’t worry about it—” His words cut off as blood spurted from his nose.

  Then he collapsed.

  “Samael?! Samael!!” Jophiel screamed.

  The angels stop their training and surround him, calling out his name.

  As he slipped into unconsciousness, he was met with darkness. And then, a presence.

  “You wanted to see me?” said the white-haired man, his voice dark and charismatic. “Well, here I am.”

  Samael scowled. “Why are you doing this? Is it to torment me?”

  “Yes, but also to possess your soul.”

  Samael laughed. “That’s rich.”

  But the phantom’s tone turned lethal. “You think I’m joking, arrogant little shit? I will take pleasure in making you submit.”

  Unfazed, Samael lunged at the figure, and the world shattered.

  “Ah… my head,” Samael groaned, holding his temple.

  He blinked awake to find Raphael looming over him.

  “You overloaded your mana circuits and nearly destroyed your brain. That was incredibly reckless,” Raphael said sternly.

  Jophiel entered the room, expressing both worry and relief. She hugged Samael and then punched his shoulder, a clear message that such recklessness would not be tolerated.

  “Overloading? That’s not possible,” Samael murmured, still dazed.

  [Purification] alone couldn’t have done this… It was him. That phantom. But who is he? I can’t remember. Still—I’ll find him. I can’t let him take my soul.

  He stood. “Let’s return to training.”

  “You need rest,” Jophiel said gently.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” Raphael cut in. “Your brain’s still impaired. You can’t even cast a spell.”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “Then prove it.”

  Samael conjured a fireball and blacked out on the spot.

  Moments later, he stirred awake to Raphael’s voice.

  “I told you to rest. Jophiel, take him back to his quarters.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Samael growled.

  “You’re getting one,” Raphael snapped. “Escort him.”

  “Very well,” Jophiel nodded, helping Samael up.

  This doesn’t add up, Raphael thought, watching them go. Why would Samael push his circuits this far? It’s not like him. Something’s wrong… I’ll need to rerun my diagnostics.

  “Samael, your actions… they’ve been less calculated lately. Did you see something?” Jophiel asked gently.

  “I told you not to worry. I’ll recover.”

  She sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

  When they reached his room, Samael slammed the door behind him and stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the sink.

  His reflection stared back at him, cracked, unsteady. Broken.

  “Not again,” Jophiel muttered outside, frustration and confusion bleeding into her voice.

  Samael’s behaviour is growing more erratic by the day. I need to inform the others, she thought.

  Addressing his reflection, Samael spoke with unwavering determination, “Whoever you are,” he said aloud, “understand this—possessing me is impossible.”

  From the mirror, the phantom’s reflection emerged, smirking.

  “Is that so?” the phantom said, venom lacing his voice. “Look at you—pitiful. I’ll strip you of everything: your beauty, your power, your soul.”

  Samael snarled and lunged, hurling a punch.

  The phantom caught it with ease and hurled him into the wall.

  Golden blood trickled down Samael’s brow.

  “Finished already?” the phantom sighed. “At least you put up a better fight last time.”

  He turned away.

  Samael laughed manically.

  The phantom paused, eyes narrowing. “Why are you laughing, weakling? Finally gone mad from defeat?”

  Samael’s eyes burned with defiance. “So… this isn’t the first time I’ve fought you? Good to know.”

  He rose, wiping blood from his face, a sly smirk forming.

  “You just revealed a glaring weakness,” he said coldly.

  The phantom frowned. “What weakness?”

  Samael’s eyes flashed with light, then he vanished.

  In an instant, a Divine Flash-enhanced Infinity Jab tore through both the mirror and the wall behind it. The shockwave rattled the corridor.

  As the dust settled, Samael stepped forward from the wreckage, eyes sharp, mind clear.

  He pressed a glowing hand to his temple, sealing the wound across his skull.

  “You thrive on fear—on the illusion of my belief in your strength,” he spat. “Without it, you’re nothing. So tell me… who’s weak now?”

  Far down the hall, Jophiel felt the tremor and rushed toward the scene. Her gaze darted between the broken wall and the man standing amid the wreckage.

  “Samael? What happened?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

  “It’s under control,” he said, brushing off debris. His words were calm, but calculated.

  Jophiel hesitated. Angels couldn't lie, but they could speak in ways that bent truth toward future certainty.

  And “under control” could mean many things.

  Reluctantly, she nodded and stepped aside as Samael entered his chamber.

  He raised a hand, conjuring radiant energy to reconstruct the shattered wall and mirror with calm, deliberate precision.

  He was still methodical—always had been. But lately, he’d been making mistakes. Too many.

  Mistakes he wouldn’t normally make.

  The unease in her chest didn’t fade. It deepened.

  Later, Jophiel approached Raphael in private. Her tone was urgent.

  “We need to monitor him closely. Samael’s behaviour—it's changing.”

  Raphael met her gaze, his face grim. “You were right to come.”

  He projected a holographic scan of Samael’s brain patterns. Two distinct signals pulsed across the image.

  “There are two consciousnesses in his mind,” Raphael explained. “One is siphoning his mana. It’s overloading his circuits—causing the exhaustion, the instability.”

  Jophiel’s expression darkened. She clutched Raphael’s shoulders. “Then we have to act. We can’t just watch him deteriorate!”

  Raphael’s voice dropped. “It’s not that simple. If we attempt a purification now, we might destroy the wrong mind. The intruder could win. And we’d lose Samael forever.”

  The words struck like a blow. Jophiel staggered back, as if the ground had dropped from beneath her feet.

  “There has to be a way…” she murmured. “We could tell the others—come up with a plan together.”

  Raphael shook his head, his voice low and grave.

  “That won’t work. The entity feeds on fear... and attention. The more we acknowledge it, the stronger it becomes.”

  Jophiel’s brow furrowed. “Then what do we do?”

  “We trust Samael,” Raphael said firmly. “He’s likely already begun to understand its nature. If anyone can overcome it... It’s him.”