Ishnofel was in the I.M.P. office, looking around. The fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting restless shadows across walls covered in extravagant posters and messy furniture. Blitzø slept soundly on his desk, a crumpled stack of papers under his arm. Moxxie helped Millie decide what to eat, exchanging worried gestures and nervous laughter, while Loona remained completely absorbed in her phone, immersed in a world seemingly far removed from the chaos around her.
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Amid this strange bustle, Stolas appeared. He stood upright, shoulders slightly slumped, his expression a mixture of fatigue, sorrow, and a hint of vulnerability he rarely showed.
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—Prince Stolas… what are you doing here? —Ishnofel asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by the unexpected visit.
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Stolas lifted his gaze, his eyes reflecting the dim light from the ceiling.
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—Well… surviving —he replied quietly—. Without my prince title… and without seeing my daughter.
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—You lost your title? —Ishnofel asked, leaning slightly toward him, curiosity and gravity in his tone.
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Stolas let out a deep sigh, as if each word weighed on his chest. His face, illuminated by the office lights, bore the scars of a battle that had been as much emotional as it had been physical.
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—I passed the grimoire to Blitzø… illegally. Andrealphus, Stella’s brother, organized a trial to blame I.M.P. He knew I wouldn’t allow someone else to take the fall, so… I took responsibility myself. Satan stripped me of my title for a hundred years, took away my power… and Stella won’t let me see Octavia.
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A few tears escaped his eyes as he remembered the fight with Andrealphus. Octavia approached gently to console him, keeping a respectful distance. Ishnofel listened attentively, understanding that even the most powerful demons could act out of love and desperation.
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—Don’t worry, Stolas. I’ll do everything I can to get your title and your power back —Ishnofel said firmly and confidently.
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—And how do you plan to do that? —Stolas asked, a mixture of hope and doubt in his voice.
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—I’m going to speak with Satan —Ishnofel replied decisively, then left without further explanation, leaving Stolas staring at the cold office light, which now somehow seemed a little more hopeful.
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The flight to the Ring of Wrath was silent, broken only by the roar of the wind beneath Ishnofel’s wings. Dark, twisted clouds filled the horizon, illuminated by lightning that made the ground tremble. When he landed before the colossal castle, the imps backed away, terrified by the imposing presence of the sin of suffering, his chains jingling with a metallic echo that resonated like a deadly warning.
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—I know you’re there. Don’t hide, Satan —Ishnofel said firmly, sharply, as his shadow stretched across the cracked stone below.
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Suddenly, Satan emerged from the castle like a storm made flesh: a colossal, muscular demon with orange skin streaked with red veins that burned like molten lava. Four yellow eyes glared with fury; his massive wings beat with a deafening sound, and his spiked tail smashed the ground, leaving deep cracks. He wore a tattered black jacket with a red collar, black pants, and a belt with a golden skull. Each step made the ground tremble and debris fly into the air.
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—Ishnofel! You dare come here? —roared Satan, his voice echoing through the valley like thunder foretelling destruction.
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—I’ve come to ask something simple: return Stolas his title and power —Ishnofel responded firmly, his chains glinting under the lightning.
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—Ha. If you beat me in combat, maybe I’ll do it… but I won’t trust you like last time —challenged Satan, his laugh booming like distant thunder.
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—I like the way you talk —Ishnofel smiled, tension coursing through his body, ready for battle.
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The fight was brutal, like a storm that destroys everything in its path. Satan charged with superhuman strength, hurling Ishnofel into a house that crumbled into rubble, debris flying everywhere. The air vibrated with the thunder of their blows, and the smell of burnt smoke permeated every corner of the Ring of Wrath. Ishnofel rose quickly, striking Satan’s stomach and back, his chains jingling as they wrapped around the demon’s legs. A precise kick sent him crashing to the ground, raising dust and shattered stone.
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—What’s wrong, Ishnofel? Did Carmilla break your heart so much you forgot how to fight? —Satan mocked, his laughter echoing among the nearby cliffs.
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Ishnofel extended his chains, trapping Satan’s legs and knocking him down again. With an agile leap and his infernal sword, he launched two fireballs that lit up the sky, but Satan dodged with predator-like precision. Without hesitation, Ishnofel grabbed him and slammed him into the castle, collapsing part of its walls and raising a cloud of dust and debris that engulfed everything in chaos.
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Enraged, Satan grew in size, and with a punch, sent Ishnofel flying through several houses, destroying roofs and walls, while the ground trembled under every impact. A stomp ripped part of Ishnofel’s outfit, but he began healing quickly, drawing strength from the suffering that defined him.
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With one final surge, Ishnofel launched himself straight at Satan’s chest, causing them both to crash to the ground with a tremendous impact. Satan tried to use the circles of the Rings of the Deadly Sins to strip Ishnofel of his powers, but Ishnofel’s strength was unique, fueled by determination and pain transformed into power.
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Exhausted, both fell to the ground, surrounded by dust, smoke, and debris.
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—Alright… you won cleanly. But that doesn’t mean I respect you —Satan said, annoyed and breathing heavily.
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Finally, Satan handed over the papers and sent him flying, forbidding him to return, while the last glimmers of fire and lava illuminated his defeated form.
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Back at I.M.P., Ishnofel found Stolas waiting, expectant. The office light highlighted every line of tension on the owl demon’s face.
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—Stolas Goetia, I, as Lucifer’s representative, return your title of Infernal Prince and your power as a Goetia —Ishnofel said with authority, extending the papers.
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A bright light enveloped Stolas, restoring his power and rank, as his wings slowly spread with majesty.
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—Thank you, Ishnofel —Stolas said, hugging him with genuine gratitude, his voice filled with relief and emotion.
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—You’re welcome, we’re friends —Ishnofel replied with a smile.
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—Since when is the emo demon friends with the horny owl? —Blitzø asked, surprised, while Millie gestured approval and Loona raised an eyebrow.
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Ishnofel explained that thanks to Asmodeus, he had met Stolas and understood his suffering. With his mission accomplished, his gaze now turned toward a new goal.
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He walked through Pentagram City, the wind stirring the leaves, and the scent of freshly bought flowers mingled with the smoke of demonic chimneys. Thoughtful, he lightly tapped on Carmilla’s door. She opened with a cold expression, clearly surprised.
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—What do you want? —she asked, crossing her arms.
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—I want to make things right —Ishnofel said calmly, letting the weight of his words fill the air.
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—After what you did? —Carmilla retorted, visibly upset.
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—I was going to tell you… it was an accident. Forgive me —Ishnofel whispered, sincerely remorseful, his gaze searching for any sign of understanding.
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—You ruined Vox’s interview, made a mess of the studio —Carmilla said, frowning.
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—I know, I was wrong —Ishnofel admitted, with regret.
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—I thought you were different… but I see you’re like the rest —she replied coldly, her shadow falling across the doorway.
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—Please… give me a chance —Ishnofel pleaded, his eyes glassy, making his vulnerability clear.
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—Stay away from me and my daughters. You lost your chance —Carmilla said, closing the door in his face with a sharp slam that echoed into the night.
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Ishnofel flew away, reflecting on how to make amends, while the night breeze reminded him that the road to redemption would be long and difficult—but not impossible.
ns216.73.217.167da2
and then Add to home screen.