[Location: Wrath's Palace, Wrath Circle, Seventh Hell]

Grayfia's lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile, almost imperceptible, but it carried the weight of inevitability. "I do not mock you, Wrath. I merely prepare the stage. The moment my prince enters, the reckoning will not be mine — it will be his. I am merely the harbinger of order, the blade that carves the path."

The Witch's voice finally returned, quieter, almost reverent. "I… I underestimated her."

"Then Hell itself will burn before I kneel."

The ground trembled. From the blackened marble floor of the Wrath Palace, cracks slithered outward like veins of molten gold, pulsing with infernal energy. The heat thickened the air, turning every breath into smoke and iron. Wrath's words hung there, defiant, furious—yet underneath that fury was something else.

A flicker of unease.

Grayfia's gaze, calm and silver, didn't waver. "You seem to have forgotten who was the first to fall."

BOOOM!

A pillar of hellfire surged, destroying the ceiling with the surroundings exploding outward in a rain of molten stone and infernal ash. The crimson blaze consumed the upper chamber, its roar deafening—yet through that apocalyptic light, Grayfia stood untouched. Her silver hair rippled like a divine flag against the storm of wrath, her glacial aura clashing with the heat, forcing the infernal flames to bend around her like a tide around an unyielding rock.

Wrath stepped through the blaze, his massive frame haloed in red fire, eyes twin stars of fury. His claws scraped against his molten armour, sparks dancing off every movement. "You dare challenge Wrath in his own circle?"

Grayfia tilted her head, silver eyes like frozen moons. "Challenge? No. I am only reminding you that the throne you sit upon was built on treachery."

The statement hit harder than any spell. Even the flames faltered for an instant.

"It was—"

"I wonder if Queen Lilith falling into demon sleep was also part of your 'loyalty,' Wrath?"

Her words were ice shards that sliced through the infernal heat.

Wrath's jaw clenched, the veins in his neck bulging like cords of molten steel. His wings flared wide, torn and blazing, the very air screaming under their pressure. "You dare—"

Grayfia's expression didn't change. "I dare because I serve the one who can command you. The one whose bloodline you betrayed."

The temperature dropped. Not gradually—violently. The hellfire that once painted the chamber red and gold now hissed into mist as frost crawled across the marble. The circle of Wrath, a realm that had never known cold, began to freeze.

Wrath's eyes widened, not in fear—but in disbelief. "This… this isn't possible."

Grayfia raised her hand, and the air itself seemed to bow. "You mistake power for dominion, Wrath. You may rule this circle…" Her fingers curled slightly, and frost began to form along Wrath's claws, cracking his armour like glass. "…but I carry the will of the Morningstar."

Wrath snarled, forcing the ice to shatter off him in an explosion of fire. "That name means nothing here anymore!"

Grayfia's lips parted in a whisper, her tone quiet enough to make the roaring inferno sound distant."Then you have truly forgotten fear."

A pulse.

Grayfia's gaze tore off from Satan of Wrath and settled on the Witch, who waved her hand sheepishly as the last bits of her magic circle flickered out, the sigils dying like embers drowned in frost.

The Witch swallowed hard. "...I was only stabilising the circle."

Grayfia's eyes, silver and merciless, flicked once toward her before returning to Wrath. "So space lock and other Satans on their way, am I right?"

Wrath scoffed as a maniacal grin stretched on his face as he regarded Grayfia as good as dead.

"You think you'll leave this circle alive?" Wrath's voice dripped with malice and pride, the fire in his chest beating like a war drum. "You've trespassed into the domain of the Seven Satans, Maid. Even you—Queen of Annihilation—cannot defy Hell's Law forever."

Grayfia's gaze lowered slightly, her tone now a whisper of snow brushing against molten rock. "I have never needed laws, Wrath. I obey only him."

Wrath's smirk faltered, the flicker of that name—him—carving an invisible scar through his arrogance.

The Witch stepped back, clutching her grimoire close, eyes darting between them. "She's baiting him," she muttered under her breath. "That damned maid is baiting Wrath himself…"

The very throne hall shuddered as Wrath took a step forward. Each movement sent molten cracks erupting through the ground, fire and brimstone dancing like chained serpents. The air thickened—heavy, violent—Hell's resonance answering its master's rage.

"Then let's end your delusions!" Wrath roared. His wings flared, and the infernal sigils along his arms ignited. "In this circle, I am God!"

Grayfia exhaled, her breath condensing into silver mist. "And yet, even gods bleed."

Then she vanished.

A shattering crack tore through the throne room. Wrath barely turned in time as something slammed into his jaw—a silver blur moving faster than thought. The impact split the air apart, sending the hulking demon hurtling backwards through molten pillars.

"GRAAAAAAH!" His roar shook the frozen dome of the palace, flame spewing from his mouth like a collapsing star. He caught himself mid-air, claws digging through the marble as he landed on all fours, dark water like blood dripping down his chin.

Grayfia hovered above, her feet never touching the ground, her aura an expanding corona of silver light. Frost and radiance mixed—two opposing dominions coexisting in eerie harmony.

"You speak of delusion," she said softly, "yet even after a thousand years, you still fear his shadow."

Wrath bellowed, thrusting his palm toward her. "ENOUGH!"

A spear of condensed rage burst from his hand, hellfire condensed into a spiral of violent destruction. It screamed through the air, warping space itself, tearing through the mist—

—but met nothing.

Grayfia appeared behind him before the explosion even blossomed. Her voice ghosted against his ear.

"Too slow."

A silver arc flashed. Wrath screamed as one of his horns shattered, spinning into the abyss below. The air split apart under the sheer speed of her movement; even the Witch, shielded behind twenty layers of barriers, staggered under the aftershock.

Wrath reeled, fire bursting from his wounds. "You—You insolent maid!"

Grayfia's tone was frigid. "I was never merely a maid."

Her hands came together, and a sigil of pure white frost blazed to life—a magic so ancient the infernal laws themselves recoiled. The frozen glyphs circled around her like an orbiting halo, singing with celestial resonance.

"❄ Absolute Stasis. ❄"

Wrath tried to move—too late.

The world turned silent.

Fire froze mid-roar. Magma crystallised in the air. Even the flames of Wrath halted, locked in time, reduced to statues of glass and light.

Only Grayfia moved, her silver hair swaying in the still air. She stepped through the frozen inferno as though walking through falling snow.

"Even hellfire bends to obedience," she murmured.

Her hand extended toward Wrath's chest, stopping just above the heart that pulsed like a dying sun. "You betrayed him. You spat upon the one who could have united Hell. For that—your circle will remember pain—"

CRACK! CRACK!

BOOOM!

A massive storm of hellfire broke through her stasis field like a shattering mirror.

The explosion of heat that followed was beyond elemental — conceptual. Wrath's fury wasn't just flame; it was authority itself rebelling against the notion of being bound. The entire Wrath Circle convulsed as the sealed energy ruptured, magma rivers reversing direction, the black skies fracturing into red veins of power.

Grayfia staggered back a single step, frost shattering from her heels. Her eyes narrowed."…He broke Absolute Stasis," she whispered.

From within the inferno, a shape emerged — vast, incandescent, and wrong.

But if Grayfia's widened eyes were anything to go by, it meant she recognised the transformation.

"Sin Trigger Form... so you unlocked it after all," Grayfia finished, her voice barely above a whisper, more observation than surprise.

Wrath rose from the heart of the inferno, his body no longer humanoid but an abomination of molten fury and crystallised hate. His flesh burned like living magma, veins pulsing with raw sin energy. The once-proud wings had become jagged blades of fire and obsidian, and his eyes—no longer twin stars of wrath—were pits of white-hot radiance, devouring light itself.

The Sin Trigger Form.

A demonic transcendence—said to be the form closest to their primal nature. It stripped away reason, pride, and restraint, leaving behind only the embodiment of their sin.

Wrath was no longer Satan. He was Wrath itself.

The infernal palace groaned beneath the weight of his presence. Every brick of obsidian turned red, every pillar wept molten blood. The skies above the Wrath Circle spiralled, collapsing into a crimson storm, lightning formed of sin striking the ground and carving demonic runes into existence.

The Witch stumbled backwards, choking on the dense air, eyes wide in horror. "T-That's not… possible! That form was myth, a fabricated lie!"

Her words were swallowed by the thunderous growl that rolled through the palace. Wrath's jaw unhinged, flames leaking like divine plasma. "GRAYFIA LUCIFUGE—!" The voice that followed wasn't one—it was thousands. The echo of wrathful souls screamed with him, their hate forming a chorus of damnation. "—YOUR EXISTENCE INSULTS MY DOMAIN!"

Grayfia did not flinch. Her silver aura flared, clashing with the rising tides of wrath. Frost and flame screamed as they collided, freezing explosions blooming across the battlefield. Her expression remained eerily composed, but inside—she was calculating. Sin Trigger. A fragment of Hell's Law awakened through sin resonance. Dangerous even for him.

Wrath's steps cracked reality with each impact. Every time his clawed foot touched the marble, the world around it melted and refroze, fighting for dominance.

Grayfia's hand flicked upward—half a thought, half an incantation. Tens of thousands of ice blades formed around her, each forged from her annihilation aura, glinting like moons.

Wrath's claws slammed together. "BREAK!"

A wave of sin energy erupted, disintegrating everything in a half-mile radius. The palace's upper chamber ceased to exist. The Witch screamed as the barrier sigils shattered around her. She fell to her knees, her mana circle exploding in static bursts.

But through that hurricane of destruction, one figure stood resolute.

A faint silver line cut through the explosion—like a blade of eternity.

"Zero Point: Argent Collapse."

Her voice cut reality apart. The sin energy recoiled. The storm split, and in the heart of it, Grayfia's eyes glowed, no longer silver but bright white—like celestial frost.

Wrath turned in disbelief as a sphere of light bloomed at her chest. All sound vanished.

Then the world screamed.

BOOOOOOOM!

The explosion wasn't loud—it was deep. It tore through layers of Hell like thunder through water. The Wrath Circle's clouds dispersed, exposing the black sun above—its light refracting through the frost barrier now covering miles of sky.

Wrath roared, one arm disintegrating into crystallised shards, but flames covered the wound, and in an instant, a brand new arm regenerated in its place.

Drops of sweat could be seen on Grayfia's forehead, and just as fast, they formed and turned into frost droplets.

Wrath's laughter rumbled through the frozen air like a collapsing volcano. "You thought frost could douse fury, Lucifuge?!"

The sound wasn't just noise—it was authority vibrating through existence. His molten jaw split wider, magma bleeding between charred teeth as flames began to spiral up his body once more.

Grayfia raised her hand, the gesture subtle yet absolute. A shimmering layer of frost expanded outward, her aura pushing back the heat like a divine tide. Her voice, steady and unhurried, cut through the chaos.

"Your flames consume everything, Wrath… even your own sanity."

The Sin-Triggered demon laughed harder. "Sanity? I AM SIN!"

He lunged. The motion shattered the ground, turning marble into rivers of magma. His claw, the size of a siege engine, tore through the air toward her—only to pass through a fading afterimage.

Grayfia's presence flickered like a mirage, reappearing behind him in a pillar of silver mist. Her hands moved in a pattern too complex to follow—each motion layering sigils that hummed in resonance with celestial laws long lost to Hell.

"❄ Mirror of Calamity ❄"

Dozens of silver runes materialised, forming an intricate sphere around Wrath. For the first time, his motion slowed—each breath dragging, every flex of muscle delayed by a fraction of eternity.

But even that eternity broke under his roar. "ENOUGH!"

A pulse of sin erupted, tearing through the runes like shrapnel through glass. He swung a molten arm backwards—and Grayfia's barrier cracked, fracturing the frozen air itself. The backlash sent her sliding across the ground, boots carving twin furrows through the ice-slicked marble.

Her left arm hung slightly limp. The impact had shattered her defensive veil.

Still, her eyes remained calm.

Wrath noticed. That calm unnerved even him.

"Still composed?" he snarled. "Or have you accepted death?"

Grayfia tilted her head. "Death?" Her tone was soft, almost pitying. "No, Wrath. You're mistaken again."

Her hand touched the frozen ground. "I do not die for the Morningstar."

She looked up, the frost mist reflecting her silver gaze like twin moons.

"For I am Executioner of House Morningstar."

BOOOOOOM!

The shockwave hurled molten fragments through the air, carving deep gouges into the marble like claws raking through flesh. The Wrath Palace itself screamed — the walls wept magma, the ceilings bled smoke, and the foundations quivered under forces too ancient to belong in the same plane.

Through it all, Grayfia Lucifuge stood at the centre of ruin, frost crawling up her arms, the shimmer of annihilation light igniting along her skin like veins of moonfire. Her aura was no longer merely cold — it was absolute null, the absence of sin, emotion, or mercy.

The Executioner had awakened.

Wrath's laughter broke the moment, low and guttural, molten phlegm spilling from his lips. "Executioner? Do you think that title will save you from divine retribution?" His voice cracked through the smoke, every syllable trailing embers. "The Morningstar is gone. His House is dust. There is no dominion left to enforce!"

Grayfia's reply came like the whisper of a guillotine."Then consider this your proof of its legacy."

She raised her right hand — and space fractured. Not shattered — folded.

In that fold, the Lucifuge Crest ignited, its design an ouroboros of light devouring its own tail. From it poured not frost, but a silvery distortion — reality bending, collapsing inward into a singularity of cold authority.

Wrath froze mid-step, his flames flickering erratically. "What—what are you—?"

"Judgment protocol," Grayfia said quietly. "House Morningstar—Act: Purge of Wrath."

The words resonated through the Wrath Circle like the toll of a celestial bell. Even the Witch, still kneeling in the corner with a shattered barrier, felt it — that presence pressing down on her, suffocating and divine.

And then, the world bent.

Columns of silver light descended from the sky, spiralling down like frozen comets. Each struck the ground and remained — towering spears of sanctified frost that hummed with the echoes of forbidden names. They encircled Wrath, forming a perfect ring around him.

He looked around, snarling, his form rippling with unstable flame. "You DARE bind me in my own realm?!"

The spears answered not with sound, but resonance.

Every heartbeat, the circle tightened. With every breath, the heat in the air diminished. Wrath's flames grew wild, desperate, like an animal gnawing at its chains. "You think you can seal Wrath with tricks?! I am the inferno that devours eternity!"

Grayfia's gaze didn't waver. Her voice, calm and absolute, cut through his rage."No, Wrath. You're the inferno that forgot why it burned."

Her aura erupted.

The circle exploded into motion — the spears disintegrating into streams of light that wove into her hands, forming a massive sigil beneath her. The glyphs pulsed in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat, a symphony of authority.

Then—

Sigh~

"It seems we are on time."

***

Stone me, I can take it!

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