Several magical engineers, mechanics, and alchemists worked under the Empyrean’s top-secret Halochassis Project, hidden deep beneath the Northern Fortress where even sunlight could not reach. Among them was Aether Nox—a blonde, medium-built man with thin spectacles and weary silver eyes dulled by endless sleepless nights. At twenty-five years old, he had already spent years dedicating his life to magical engineering, often trading rest and comfort for long hours beside unstable mana reactors and half-finished armor prototypes.
Tonight was supposed to be another ordinary nightshift.
Instead, it became the worst night of his life.
The underground laboratory trembled with chaos. The sharp scent of burnt mana crystals and machine oil filled the air while red emergency lamps flashed across the metallic walls, bathing the facility in a blood-colored glow. Half-disassembled steam engines hissed violently beside glowing alchemical tubes, and scattered documents fluttered across the floor after being knocked from tables.
The Iron Bandits had raided the laboratory.
Boots thundered against the steel floor as armed men stormed through the research sector. Their rough leather coats brushed against hanging cables while drawn blades gleamed beneath the flickering lights. Some carried rifles infused with mana cartridges, while others wielded axes and daggers stained from previous battles.
“Do not resist, and nobody gets hurt!” one of the Iron Bandits barked.
His voice echoed harshly through the chamber.
Aether and the other researchers immediately dropped to the floor. Fear spread among the hostages like wildfire. Some engineers trembled silently while others lowered their heads, too terrified to even breathe loudly. An elderly mechanic clutched his wrench with shaking hands before reluctantly tossing it away.
Aether’s pulse pounded painfully in his ears.
One of the bandits grabbed a young alchemist woman by the collar and slammed her against a worktable cluttered with crystal canisters. Glass rattled loudly from the impact.
“Where are the armors?” the bandit snarled as he pressed a dagger against her neck. “Where are the Halochassis!?”
The woman gasped. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as the dagger’s edge lightly pierced her skin.
“Please don’t hurt me!” she cried. “I can’t say anything about those things!”
“Tell me, or I’ll slit your throat!” the bandit shouted.
The laboratory fell silent except for the trembling hiss of nearby machinery.
Aether clenched his fists against the cold floor. His entire body shook, not from anger alone, but from helplessness. He was no soldier. No adventurer. No Holy Knight. He was merely a magical engineer who spent most of his life studying blueprints and repairing mana circuits.
But he could not just watch someone die.
“Stop!”
Aether forced himself to stand from the group of hostages despite his trembling legs.
“Please don’t hurt her,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “Make me your hostage instead.”
Several researchers stared at him in shock.
The bandit narrowed his eyes and pointed the dagger toward Aether instead.
“You?” he scoffed. “Then answer me. Where are the power armors?”
Aether gritted his teeth so tightly his jaw hurt. His mind desperately searched for a way out of the situation, but terror clouded his thoughts. He wanted to protect everyone, yet there was nothing he could do against armed raiders.
Then a deep voice suddenly cut through the tension.
“Lower your blade, Billy.”
The entire room quieted.
Aether turned toward the source of the voice and saw a tall man step forward from the shadows near the laboratory entrance. The stranger had blue hair, sun-tanned skin, and a muscular physique hardened by years of battle. A jagged scar ran across his cheek, making his stern expression even more intimidating. His ragged blue jacket swayed as he walked, and the heavy sound of his boots echoed slowly across the steel floor.
Aether’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Captain Schwarzer?” he whispered.
The man smiled faintly.
“Nice to meet you again, Engineer Nox,” Adzeel said calmly. “How long has it been? Four years?”
The bandit holding the alchemist woman immediately stepped back after seeing that Aether recognized their leader. He lowered his dagger and released the terrified woman from his grasp. She stumbled away weakly, clutching her neck while trying to suppress her sobs.
“Sorry, boss,” the bandit muttered before leaving the two alone.
Aether stared at Adzeel in disbelief.
Memories flooded back into his mind—the respected captain of the Holy Knights who once visited the laboratory during weapon inspections, the disciplined warrior admired by younger soldiers, the man rumored to possess unmatched combat instincts.
And now…
“You…” Aether looked at Adzeel’s worn jacket and unkempt appearance. “You’re a bandit now. The Iron Bandits… the ones responsible for stealing Azazel.”
“Yeah.” Adzeel’s faint smile disappeared. “I went rogue immediately after resigning from the Holy Knights.”
The words carried no pride. Only bitterness.
For a brief moment, silence lingered between them while distant machinery crackled in the background.
Aether hesitated before speaking again.
“Was it because of Rachel?”
The moment the name left his mouth, Adzeel’s expression darkened.
His eyes lowered slightly, and the room suddenly felt colder.
Aether instantly regretted asking. He still remembered the rumors surrounding Rachel—the tragedy, the scandal, and the incident that caused Adzeel’s disappearance years ago. Whatever truly happened back then, the wound clearly had never healed.
The former captain remained silent for several seconds. Only the low hum of mana reactors filled the laboratory.
Aether wisely chose not to press further.
Adzeel eventually exhaled slowly and shifted the conversation away from the painful topic.
“So,” he said while glancing around the underground facility, “you work with Empyrea’s Halochassis Project now.”
“Yeah.” Aether lowered his gaze toward the cold steel floor. The flashing red emergency lights reflected faintly on his glasses, hiding the exhaustion in his eyes. “After Christer—my son—died… after Ryza never woke up… I had nothing left.” His voice became quieter with every word. “I needed something to bury myself in. So I devoted everything to this project. To a greater purpose.”
For a moment, only the distant humming of mana generators echoed through the laboratory corridors.
Adzeel leaned against a nearby worktable littered with blueprints and glowing crystal tools. “Greater purpose, huh?” he muttered. “And what exactly is the purpose of these mythical armors?”
Aether slowly raised his head and looked him directly in the eye.
“The Halochassis are deterrents,” he answered firmly. “Weapons powerful enough to take down the Celestial Wardens.”
Silence followed. Then Adzeel suddenly laughed. At first it was just a low chuckle, but it quickly grew louder and harsher, echoing wildly through the underground chamber.
“Hah… hahahaHAHAHAHA!” Adzeel held his forehead as he laughed. “I never thought we were actually doing the right thing all this time!” His grin widened with disbelief and bitterness. “How ironic! The great heroes of mankind becoming monsters worth fearing! Hahaha!”
His laughter sounded less like amusement and more like years of hatred finally spilling out.
Aether awkwardly forced out a small laugh of his own.
“Haha… yeah.” But his voice lacked conviction.
The laughter soon faded, leaving behind a heavy silence that pressed against the room like suffocating smoke. Somewhere deeper in the facility, pipes hissed and steam escaped with a shrill whine.
Adzeel eventually stepped closer and extended his hand.
“Join us,” he said. His tone became calmer, yet far more dangerous. “Take vengeance with us. Stop wasting away in a graveyard like this.” His sharp eyes narrowed. “We finally have the means to fight the so-called heroes.”
Aether stared at the offered hand. His fingers curled tightly into fists.
He knew Adzeel was no saint. The Iron Bandits had stolen military weapons, attacked convoys, and killed people. Yet despite all that, Aether could not fully see him as evil. Not after knowing what happened years ago.
Rachel’s disappearance destroyed the man standing before him.
Aether understood that pain more than anyone.
The memory of his son Christer flashed in his mind—the boy’s tiny smile, his laughter, the warmth of his small hand. Then came the memory of Ryza, pale and lifeless, yet still clinging to breathe. The grief still felt like a blade twisting slowly inside his chest.
If their positions were reversed…
Would he have become a monster too?
“…Follow me,” Aether finally said.
Adzeel smirked faintly before following behind him.
The two men walked through the dim underground corridors while the Iron Bandits continued securing the facility above. Their footsteps echoed heavily against steel flooring. Flickering mana lamps illuminated rows of pipes, suspended cables, and reinforced blast doors marked with warning sigils.
Eventually, they arrived before a massive steel door nearly three meters tall. Ancient runes glowed faintly across its surface while mechanical locks clicked from within.
Beside the door was a scanning tile. Aether pressed his palm against it.
Blue mana light spread across the scanner as it analyzed his magical signature. The machine emitted a sharp metallic beep, followed by the deep groaning sound of gears turning.
The enormous door slowly opened.
Cold air rushed outward from the chamber beyond.
Adzeel casually waved something in his hand while grinning. It is another severed hand.
“If I knew you were here to help,” he laughed, “I wouldn’t have needed this.”
Aether blinked in confusion before his eyes widened in horror.
“What the fuck?” he shouted. “Whose hand is that!?”
Adzeel looked down at the severed hand with complete indifference.
“Professor Emmanuel Gagarin’s,” he answered casually. “You know him?”
Aether grimaced in disgust.
“Yeah. He’s a total narcissistic, snobbish asshole,” he muttered. “Wait… you dug him out of the grave?”
“Hey, relax.” Adzeel shrugged. “It was already severed when we found it. It’s not like we killed him.”
The smell of dried blood briefly reached Aether’s nose, making him look away.
“I heard rumors Qinglong killed him,” Aether said quietly as they continued walking. “I mean… sure, Professor Gagarin was a complete dipshit, but nobody deserves to die like that.”
Adzeel’s expression darkened slightly.
“That sin of the Celestial Wardens ended up giving us a powerful ally.”
The two continued deeper into the facility until the corridor finally opened into a gigantic underground hangar.
Adzeel stopped walking. His eyes widened in awe.
Towering before them were three enormous Halochassis power armors displayed upon elevated platforms surrounded by glowing mana conduits. Thick cables connected the armors to massive reactors humming with immense magical energy. Blue and crimson lights pulsed across the metallic plating like veins carrying blood through a living creature.
The air itself felt heavier inside the chamber.
Ancient symbols glowed faintly across the armor frames while steam drifted around them like ghostly fog.
Adzeel slowly stepped forward, unable to hide the amazement in his face.
“So this is it…” he whispered. “The greatest power in the universe.” His eyes reflected the glow of the giant machines. “The armors of the fallen angels.”
Aether smirked faintly, pride momentarily replacing the exhaustion on his face.
“Nobody understands these Halochassis better than I do,” he said confidently. “Their mana systems, synchronization process, combat functions… I practically helped build their souls.”
Then his expression hardened.
“So if you want to steal them,” Aether said while staring directly at Adzeel, “and if you want me to join your cause…”
He paused.
“I have one condition.”
“Pray tell,” Adzeel said, crossing his arms as the dim blue glow of the hangar reflected across his scarred face.
Aether’s expression darkened.
“Let me wield one of them,” he said slowly, his voice filled with restrained hatred, “until I slaughter Saint Elwyn.” His fists trembled slightly at his sides. “You know I despise the Celestial Wardens just as much as you do.”
For a brief moment, the giant underground hangar fell silent except for the low humming of mana reactors powering the Halochassis. Steam drifted across the metallic floor while warning lights blinked rhythmically overhead.
Then Adzeel grinned. Not a simple smile, but the grin of a man who had finally found the weapon he always dreamed of wielding.
“Then help yourself, friend.”
Aether exhaled deeply, as though years of grief and rage had finally found direction.
Without hesitation, he walked toward one of the towering Halochassis displayed at the center platform.
The armor was magnificent.
Its sleek white plating gleamed beneath the cold laboratory lights, accented with black lines and glowing blue mana veins running across its surface. Behind its back rested mechanical wings resembling those of a fallen angel—one side feathered with white metallic blades while the other faded into darker black steel. Ancient runes shimmered faintly along its chestplate like living scripture.
As Aether approached, the Halochassis reacted. A deep mechanical hum echoed through the chamber.
The armor’s eyes flickered with dormant blue light, and several panels across its torso slowly unfolded with a sharp metallic hiss. Steam escaped from within the opening armor as if the machine itself were breathing after centuries of slumber.
It was welcoming him.
Aether paused before the opened armor and stared at his own reflection on the polished white plating. For a second, memories flashed through his mind—Christer laughing while running through a field, Ryza smiling softly at him during quieter days before tragedy consumed their lives.
Pain twisted inside his chest.
But beneath that pain was fury.
Pure, burning fury.
He stepped into the Halochassis.
The internal mechanisms shifted around him with precise movements. Metal locks clamped onto his arms and legs while glowing mana circuits lit up beneath his feet. The power armor sealed shut, drowning the outside world in darkness for a brief moment.
Then dozens of glowing symbols illuminated before his eyes.
Aether slowly closed his eyes.
“Awaken… Samael,” he muttered.
For one terrifying second, nothing happened.
Then the entire hangar trembled.
A powerful surge of mana exploded from the Halochassis like a storm awakening from hibernation. Blue light erupted from the armor’s eyes, illuminating the chamber with an intense glow. The mechanical wings slowly spread open behind the armor, releasing waves of compressed air powerful enough to scatter dust and loose papers across the floor.
The mana reactors connected to the platform roared louder in response.
Inside the armor, Aether felt energy coursing through his body like liquid lightning. The Halochassis was no ordinary machine—it felt alive. Ancient. Hungry.
Adzeel stared upward with widened eyes.
Even he could not hide his excitement.
His pulse quickened as he watched the mythical armor awaken before him.
“So this is true power…” he whispered.
Then he turned toward the person standing beside him.
“Risha,” Adzeel called. “Go equip one. I’ll take the last.”
The young woman blinked in shock.
“Eh?” Risha pointed at herself in disbelief. “Are you sure, leader?”
Unlike the rough-looking bandits surrounding them, Risha appeared younger and far more disciplined. Her crimson scarf fluttered slightly from the pressure waves released by Samael’s awakening. Though she tried to remain composed, nervousness was clearly visible in her eyes.
Adzeel nodded firmly.
“I know you’re an honorable girl,” he said. “You’re Captain Han’s daughter after all.”
Risha froze. At the mention of her father, emotion flickered across her face. Pride. Sadness. Gratitude.
She placed a hand over her chest before lowering herself into a respectful bow.
“Thank you, leader.” Her voice trembled slightly.
Risha then walked toward another Halochassis positioned on the adjacent platform.
Unlike Samael, this armor was completely white from head to toe, giving it an almost sacred appearance. Its smooth plating reflected the overhead lights like polished marble, while a single horn extended from its forehead like the crown of an ancient divine beast. Faint golden symbols glowed across its shoulders and chest.
As Risha approached, the Halochassis responded instantly.
A low chime echoed through the hangar.
The armor slowly opened its chest cavity with graceful mechanical precision, revealing the cockpit within. Warm white light spilled outward from inside the machine, bathing Risha’s face in a heavenly glow.
She hesitated for a second before stepping forward.
“Father… Mother…” she whispered softly. “Please guide me.”
The sincerity in her voice contrasted sharply against the cold metallic surroundings.
Risha entered the Halochassis.
The armor closed around her with a heavy metallic clang.
Inside the armor, glowing symbols surrounded her vision while streams of mana flowed through countless circuits like rivers of light. Her breathing became uneven as she felt the immense power sleeping within the machine.
Then she opened her eyes.
Determination replaced her fear.
“Awaken… Mastema.”