"Why?" Finn was stunned for a moment and couldn't help asking.
The old patriarch glanced at Finn. "Back then, our Angel Faction had a war with the Demon Faction. Although we won, we were also seriously wounded."
Finn frowned. "Then how did you recover?"
The old patriarch smiled bitterly. "We evolved successfully through an altar."
Finn was taken aback. "Where is that altar?"
"It's over there."
Following the direction the old patriarch indicated, Finn saw a building in the distance—a round tower.
"That is the Tower of the Seraphim. We enter it every month to train and enhance our strength."
"Is there some kind of mystical healing energy in it?" Finn pondered for a while, then continued. "Or is it due to something else?"
The old patriarch nodded emphatically, clearly not intending to conceal anything. "Actually, it's similar to what you think. It's like experiencing a near-death state, and then injecting pure cosmic energy—it helps one grow exponentially stronger."
"So that's how it is," Finn nodded, his eyes clouded with thought.
"Let's go. I'm planning to get some activity in," the old patriarch said.
Finn nodded, choosing not to probe further.
The two walked outside, casually chatting, with the old patriarch trailing beside him.
In the corridor, a gust of wind swept through, carrying a faint floral scent that refreshed the senses.
Wanda stood by the railing, her gaze cast out the window. The sunlight glistened, birds soared through the sky, and the celestial city of Riche looked serene and beautiful.
"The city does look pretty nice," she murmured.
Finn followed her gaze, a faint smile playing at his lips. "It's the best place in our quadrant. But unfortunately, we don't have time to enjoy it right now."
The old patriarch remained silent for a while before speaking. "It's time for us to enact change. Our Angel Faction has become sparse. If nothing changes, we will vanish from history within a few generations."
"I understand," Finn said with a calm smile. "But the time hasn't come yet. If you want to change, start by continuing the bloodline of the Angel Faction. Only then can you revive your vitality."
He paused before adding, "The more noble the lineage, the faster the reproductive rate. I believe your people can soon restore momentum and forge a new legacy."
"There's wisdom in your words," the patriarch said, nodding. He took a deep breath, determination gleaming in his ancient eyes.
"Let's do some scouting first. When the time is right, we'll eradicate the demons ourselves!" Finn's voice was firm.
"Agreed," the patriarch responded.
After all, the demons' methods were abhorrent, their hearts steeped in cruelty, devoid of any mercy. In their eyes, only blood and domination mattered.
The trio walked the street and eventually entered a small vendor's stall to buy two drinks before continuing toward the Angelic Sanctum.
All around them, pedestrians bustled past.
They wore varied garments—some in celestial robes, others armored—men, women, even youths, each of them bearing an otherworldly elegance.
Yet there was urgency in their stride, as though they were headed toward something critical.
"The people of the Angel Faction seem fortunate," Finn observed, watching the vibrant streets.
The patriarch gave a wistful smile. "They are, on the surface. But true happiness? Few know how much sorrow our Faction carries."
"Sorrow?" Finn murmured. "Maybe. Our world was once destroyed, too."
The patriarch said nothing.
Everyone in the Angel Faction knew what had transpired—the massacre at the hands of demons. The trauma endured remained fresh.
The Demon Faction had never known limits. Their brutality was almost mythic. They never tolerated any other race rising above them.
To the Demon Faction, such a notion was a stain, a humiliation. Thus, they burned with the desire to obliterate the Angel Faction.
The Angel Faction had merely been caught in this whirlwind of vengeance.
And the resulting catastrophe nearly extinguished them.
As they walked, the old patriarch suddenly stopped, his gaze shifting sharply.
"Spatial disturbance... strong."
"Spatial fluctuations?" Finn echoed, brows tightening as he followed the direction of the old man's gaze.
In the distance, a translucent figure was coalescing, becoming more and more tangible.
It was a humanoid being—over three meters tall, armored in obsidian scales with leathery wings spread wide. Its head was crowned with ridges, and its muscles pulsed with barely-contained savagery.
"Demon race," Finn said in a low voice, jaw clenched.
The old patriarch's eyes widened. "It really is a Demon!"
"What are they doing here?!" Finn demanded.
The patriarch's face clouded. He said nothing but remained on alert.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the patriarch said, "Either way, we need to confront this."
"Let's go," Finn agreed, grabbing Wanda's hand as they moved forward.
"ROAR!!"
A bellow ripped through the air, followed by a column of flames. From it surged a massive serpent-like entity engulfed in infernal fire, charging straight for Finn and the patriarch.
"Fool!" the patriarch growled, raising his palm.
BOOM!
Raw force exploded from his body like a cosmic tidal wave, engulfing the serpent.
A shriek echoed, and the fire-serpent shattered into countless fireballs raining in every direction.
"Hmph," the patriarch scoffed. "Anyone who dares challenge our might—will die!"
Emerging from the smoke was a tall, muscular warrior clad in golden battle armor. In his hand gleamed a silver longsword, and the air around him surged with thick, oppressive energy.
------*--
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