Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize



"Lady Envy, I've been informed of an incident involving Ms. Wrath in Tessia Kingdom, reportedly due to Mr. Blackscar. I urge your understanding that despite your affection for her, she remains an individual, her welfare secondary to the collective interests of our cause," the Golden Scale conveyed, his words carrying a blend of firmness and empathy.

With a brief pause, he continued with a stern undertone, "I will issue a solitary admonishment: refrain from his demise, and avoid any actions that might render him impotent in aiding our endeavor. In return, I shall not delve into Mr. Magitek's intervention to seal Mr. Blackscar's magical prowess, a measure that currently hinders his use of magic to expedite our plans."

"I understand…" Envy curtly responded before abruptly severing her spirit projection, suddenly leaving the meeting.

After Envy's departure, Cyrus contemplated aloud, "She may not act directly against Mr. Blackscar, but she could impede our plan. With the prospect of opening hell gates, she might have alerted the Vatican. If they learn of it, we may have to sacrifice Mr. Blackscar as a scapegoat."

In a moment of quiet, the Golden Scale pondered his next move, his gaze fixed upon Envy's now-vacant projection.

"Don't be an alarmist, she still remains one of us, a Grand Councilor with a vested interest in our kind's advancement. However," he turned his attention back to Cyrus, 

"To be safe, expedite Mr. Blackscar's instruction to you and your associates on opening the hell gate. As for the Vatican, I shall handle them. I've heard that Christopher Ward permanently killed Magnus, sending his soul to the underworld by severing all ties to this realm. Regardless of his standing as a Grand Paladin, eliminating our High Councilor will have consequences," Lord Golden Scale stated before discussing minor details with Cyrus and then ending his projection, leaving Cyrus alone in the room.

In solitude, Cyrus's satisfaction was palpable, a self-assured smile gracing his features, as if every facet of his intricate plan had aligned perfectly.

—

Within the Hell Dimension, an eerie stillness hung in the air, a palpable aftermath of the cataclysmic upheaval that had unfolded. The landscape, once a seething cauldron of malevolent energy, now bore the indelible mark of the God's Wrath spell. It was as if a tempest of divine fury had swept through, leaving in its wake a transformed realm that teetered on the precipice between damnation and salvation.

The ground, scorched and pitted by the relentless onslaught of demonic forces, now exhibited an unsettling calmness. Jagged rocks and twisted spires, once symbols of torment, jutted from the earth like ancient sentinels frozen in time. Yet, an ethereal luminescence now bathed these desolate features, casting elongated shadows that danced and swayed as if in a macabre waltz.

The acrid stench of sulfur and brimstone that had once saturated the air had yielded to a peculiar amalgamation of scents. A delicate interplay of fragrances – hints of celestial purity intertwined with vestiges of lingering darkness – wafted on a gentle breeze that whispered of the profound metamorphosis that had taken place.

Amidst this surreal tableau, pockets of holy energy glowed like beacons of hope amidst the ruins. Celestial orbs of light, their radiance soft and inviting, hung suspended in the air, their very presence a defiance against the prevailing abyss. They pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm, casting a serene ambiance that belied the tumultuous history of this forsaken domain.

The roiling skies above, once a vortex of maelstrom, had calmed into a tapestry of colors. Hues of deep crimson and fiery orange blended with ethereal shades of gold, creating a mesmerizing canopy that stretched to infinity. It was a sky both beautiful and foreboding, a canvas upon which the final showdown between heavenly retribution and infernal defiance had been painted.

Amidst this altered landscape, atop a crimson, steep cliff, stood Satan, having taken on the guise of a young boy. He surveyed the hellscape that had once been his pride, revered as one of the premier hell dimensions among high-ranking demons. Yet now, it lay stripped of any vestiges of demonic existence, save for a scant few hundred feeble entities too weak or sluggish to partake in the earlier upheaval.

Overwhelmed, the boy sank to his knees, unable to fathom the transformation that had rendered the once-teeming hell dimension a desolate wasteland, barren of demonic essence. Strangely, some pockets even bore the weight of a dense, lingering holy element.

For Satan, this vista evoked parallels to the aftermath of a nuclear explosion, where the land was marred by radiation, rendering it incapable of sustaining life.

"What... What happened... How could this be, after I provided my hell coordinates to that human... Lucian?" Satan mumbled, his disbelief palpable. He had assumed Lucian would merely pry open the hellgate, unleashing his demonic legions upon the mortal realm.

After surviving the harrowing pursuit by the terrifying human, Daniel, and returning to his home, Satan had hoped to devour some human souls captured by his demons to restore his power. Instead, he was confronted with a ravaged main hell dimension, his cherished abode now in ruins due to some unknown cataclysmic phenomenon.

"Ohhh... Isn't that Lord Satan? You seem to be shrinking," a large and coarse voice of a demon echoed behind Satan, who gazed upon the devastated scene before him.

Satan slowly turned in the direction of the voice, revealing an archfiend leading a group of weaker demons. They all stared menacingly at him. Satan knew what this meant – these demons sought a change in leadership and hungered to consume his demonic essence and soul, ascending the ranks as high-ranking demons.

Having resorted to drastic measures, including self-destruction, to escape the clutches of the terrifying human, Daniel, Satan found himself grievously weakened. His power had been significantly diminished, leaving him with only 75% of his former might if he were to fully recover. Gone were the days of his peak strength, a time when he reigned supreme. Now, his power was a mere fraction, reduced to a mere 10% after his self-inflicted detonation. This dire state forced him to adopt the form of a young boy, a strategic move to conserve his remaining demonic energy.

"You seem to forget that I am still Satan, the Embodiment of Wrath," the boyish incarnation of Satan retorted, his voice laden with anger as he glared defiantly at the horde of rebellious demons before him.

"Yes, I know. That's precisely why you should become my sustenance, Satan! Once you're vanquished, I'll seize control of this realm!" The archfiend, his fangs bared and determination etched upon his sinister visage, lunged at Satan with predatory fervor.

"Tch!" Satan clicked his tongue in contempt, swiftly raising his hand. In an instant, an irresistible suction force materialized, drawing power from the rebel demon and the charging archfiend alike. Unleashing the authority he still retained over this dominion, Satan harnessed this power to drain the very life force from the traitorous entities.

"Arrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhh!" A chorus of agonized howls echoed through the infernal air as the rebellious demons were subjected to excruciating torment. Their flesh, blood, and demonic energy were mercilessly absorbed by Satan's dark command, leaving them as hollow husks in the wake of his relentless retribution.

As the malevolent energy flowed from the rebellious demons into Satan's outstretched hand, a sinister aura enveloped him. The once formidable forms of the demons began to wither, their strength drained away, leaving behind feeble, dried corpses. Slowly, their bodies decayed, crumbling into lifeless dust. Despite this ruthless consumption, Satan's own power saw only a marginal increase of 2%. He now possessed a mere 12% of his former might, a realization that left him disheartened and desperate.

The hellish landscape bore witness to this grim spectacle, with no other demon daring to challenge the wrathful lord. In the aftermath of the brutal encounter, an eerie silence fell over the devastated realm, punctuated only by the fading echoes of the demons' anguished cries.

Amidst the desolation, a desperate voice emerged, emanating from one of the fading entities. "Mercy, Lord Satan! Spare me, please!" begged the pitiful demon, its once haughty demeanor reduced to a plea of desperation.

However, Satan's anger and despair had rendered him immune to such pleas. "Mercy? None was offered when you dared to rebel against me," he hissed, his boyish form now a vessel of wrath. "Your treachery brought ruin upon yourselves, and now you shall face the consequences of your actions."

Another demon, barely clinging to existence, joined in the supplication. "Please, Lord Satan, have mercy on us! We were foolish to oppose you. Spare our lives!"

But Satan's heart remained unyielding, his gaze icy and cold. "You chose this path. You chose to challenge my authority, and now you must pay the price. Your lives are forfeit, and your souls shall be devoured by my wrath!"

As the last of the rebellious demons disintegrated into dust, Satan stood amidst the ashes of his once-mighty army. However, far from feeling triumphant, he felt a profound hollowness and loss. The realization dawned upon him that he had decimated his own followers, leaving him as the ruler of a desolate and lifeless realm.

Despair and loneliness overwhelmed him as he surveyed the barren wasteland. His wrath subsided, leaving him in solitude—a once-mighty demon king now reduced to the role of a ruler with no subjects.

Satan could only ponder his next move, confronted by the reality of his diminished power and the absence of his loyal followers. He was left to blame himself for a rash decision that led him to assault the Witch of Wrath, who happened to be the wife of the terrifying human, Daniel. This choice had left him with nothing but a life marked by pathetic power, rendering him vulnerable even to a Grand Paladin's might.