Fallen Angel's Harem in the Abyss
Chapter 55: Crimson Bloom - 3

Chapter 55: Crimson Bloom - 3

Then they stopped, the mist parting slightly before them, the demon’s gaze pressing like unseen chains.

Sylvara turned without a word, her hand rising in a graceful arc.

Vines whipped around Azareel’s sleeping form—fast, precise, purposeful, curling inward like a living cocoon.

The garden shifted violently, thorned vines layering tightly over one another in thick spirals, wrapping him inside a fortress of bark, leaf, and blood-red roses, sealing him away from the encroaching darkness.

The glow of his resting form disappeared, hidden in the heart of the bloom.

The demon’s mask tilted slightly, its skull sockets seeming to narrow.

"A futile gesture. You think to hide your offering?" it rasped, its voice a grind of gravel and bone, echoing through the mist like a death rattle.

Sylvara’s amber eyes met its gaze, unblinking. "We’re not hiding him," she said softly, her voice a melodic whisper laced with steel.

"We’re protecting you," Nyxsha added, her voice rumbling low, every syllable laced with a primal growl that vibrated through the ground, her golden eyes blazing like embers in the fog.

The figure paused, its ragged robes fluttering in a wind that wasn’t there.

Virelya chuckled, a sound too amused for the moment, her golden eyes glinting behind her mask.

"You wanted the angel awake? That would’ve been a mistake," she purred, her coils tightening as she slithered slightly forward.

"And why," the masked thing asked, its voice inevitable, each word a weight pressing on their souls, "would it be a mistake... to wake your savior?"

Sylvara’s vines curled tighter, her flowering hair blooming brighter in defiance.

"Because if he saw you... he’d save you too," she whispered, her amber eyes fierce, her words hanging in the air like a curse wrapped in mercy.

The corrupted legion behind the monster hissed, some shuddering, their twisted forms recoiling as if the words had struck them like light in the dark, confusion rippling through their ranks.

But the women didn’t look away, their gazes locked on the demon, the mist swirling around their feet like a living thing, the garden’s bloom dimming as the tension built.

Nyxsha took one step forward, her clawed hand flexing, her golden eyes glowing like twin moons in the fog.

"You came at the right time," she growled, her voice a thunderous rumble that shook the mist. "He’s sleeping."

And then...

They changed.

The air went still, the mist seeming to hold its breath as the transformation began.

A crack ran down Nyxsha’s spine with a snap like dry bone breaking, her muscles expanding in a ripple of raw power, her fur spilling over her shoulders in waves of midnight black.

Her mouth stretched, twisted, widened into a beast’s snarl, fangs gleaming like shards of obsidian.

Her claws grew longer, sharper, black mist coiling around her like a shroud of night, until all that remained was a towering predator with eyes that burned violet, flames dancing along her form like a crown of wrath.

Not prey.

Predator.

Virelya’s eyes turned gold and wide, her laughter a hiss of delight as her body lengthened—arms shifting into scaled tendrils, legs dissolving into endless coils of flesh and bone.

Her form split—once, twice, three times—until six writhing hydra heads rose above the city street, fangs dripping with acidic venom that sizzled on the stone, her porcelain mask multiplying across each face, cracked and mocking.

A single hiss echoed through the fog, and entire stones cracked beneath her weight, the ground trembling as she reared up, a nightmare of silk and fury.

Then came Sylvara.

Her vines withdrew into her flesh, folding inward with a rustle of leaves, her skin cracking like bark as her true form emerged—taller, sharper, beautiful in a way that felt wrong, lethal.

Her arms opened like branches, hundreds of glowing flowers blooming from her body, each petal marked with the faces of those she had consumed, screaming silently.

A crown of thorns curled around her skull like antlers, and her chest pulsed with crimson light, her eyes blazing amber as roots erupted from her feet, anchoring her to the earth like a tree born from blood.

When she stepped forward, the ground bloomed and withered in the same breath, life and death dancing in her wake.

The corrupted souls paused, their twitching forms hesitating, several beginning to back away, confusion rippling through the horde like a wave of uncertainty.

The demon did not move.

Instead, it laughed—a low, ancient sound that rolled like thunder across the ruins, echoing off the towers, shaking the mist.

"I see," it rasped, its skull mask tilting, the empty sockets seeming to gleam with dark amusement. "You weren’t guardians of the angel..."

Nyxsha raised her clawed hand, her eyes glowing like twin moons, her voice a primal roar that shook the ground.

"We are the monsters he calls friends."

The moment the words left Nyxsha’s jaws, the city screamed—not a metaphor, but a visceral wail, as if the Abyss itself recoiled.

Buildings twisted, their stone facades splintering with anguished groans, spires cracking like brittle bones, walls crumbling into ash and ruin as if mourning the bloodbath to come.

The air vibrated with a low, guttural hum, the mist swirling into a frenzied storm, charged with the weight of impending violence.

And then it began—a storm of claws, venom, and thorned petals, unleashed with a ferocity that shook the cursed city to its core.

Nyxsha pounced first, her beast-form a blur of violet fury, a living tempest of black fur and flame.

The ground shattered beneath her impact, fissures spiderwebbing outward as she slammed into the nearest group of corrupted souls, her claws tearing through their translucent forms like paper dolls soaked in blood.

Her fangs shredded, her roars a primal thunder that drowned out their silent screams, black mist boiling from her mouth in searing clouds that burned the air.

Souls dissolved in seconds—knights, women, children—reduced to wisps of ash and ectoplasm, their hollow eyes wide with terror as they crumbled under her wrath.

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