She was an angle - chapter 3
Days had passed since her talk with Marmon. His last words echoed still:
"They'll listen if you speak like someone who doesn't need them to."
Now, standing before Heaven's white gates once more, Mary drew a slow breath. The air here was still sweet — too sweet, like innocence that refused to remember the taste of blood.
When the gates opened, the light felt colder than she remembered. Angels looked down from the marble steps, their halos humming like judgment. Some faces softened, whispering her name in disbelief. Others turned away, unwilling to meet the eyes of the one Heaven had cast out.
She walked the familiar hall — each step measured, each breath steady — until the massive doors of the Court of Divinity parted.
Twelve seraphim sat in radiant formation. The air trembled with sacred energy. Among them, Ariel stood out — mace resting by her side, eyes filled with restrained fury.
Before anyone could speak, Ariel's voice cut through the silence:
"That thing you work with — that demon — should never have been born. Marmon's corruption—"
"Enough, Ariel," a higher angel hissed, wings flaring with irritation. "You've spoken of that name all week. Spare us the obsession."
Ariel's glare darkened, but her words faltered as Mary entered the chamber.
The seraph's voice dropped to a whisper of disbelief.
"You?"
Mary didn't look her way. Her calm presence filled the room like quiet defiance.
"I'm here to propose something new," she began, her tone clear, every word steady. "A program — redemption for sinners. A bridge between Heaven and Hell."
Ripples of murmurs spread among the thrones.
One angel leaned forward Caledon the clay of heaven . "You mean to let them ascend? After what they've done?"
Solcariel the truth of heaven spoke. "They already had their chance alive, Mary. What's lost is lost."
Mary's gaze remained fixed. "And those who were born in Hell? What of them?"
A voice tried to answer, but Ariel interrupted sharply:
"If their parents are sinners, then they are sinners. Blood taints blood. Even born in Heaven, they'd still be the child of filth."
The words echoed harshly. Mary exhaled slowly, lowering her head for a moment — not in defeat, but in deep disappointment.
She pressed forward, her tone firmer. "Then tell me. What defines redemption to Heaven? What proof would you demand before you call someone pure?"
The eldest seraph, Sera the Crowned, finally spoke — her voice soft, ancient, and sorrowful.
"Mary... you were one of us. You know how this light works. Sinners will never be accepted here — not by the structure Heaven was built upon. You have no evidence they can be reborn... and even if they could, they would never belong among us." in all of that situation she is the only one who seemed bit interested but won't voice is loud till she was proven she put faith in wrong people before don't want it to happen again
As most of them dissuce how bad hell is that you need to be a pornstar to be popular or do bad stuff like selling drugs to get to the top which didn't sit well with marh
"you love them to do that how you guys fed your egos by looking at the bad others do"which other angles nod clearly seeing no issues in it as she continues"you guys spend your free time looking at what other do not counting that the environment who could shape someone"
Anyway single word from sera ended it"unless you have evidence we don't welcome discussion court ended"
Her words hung like final judgment.
The chamber grew silent, and then — without vote, without discussion — the court dismissed itself. The angels rose and left in lines of light, their radiance fading into the distant choir halls.
Mary turned to leave as well, her steps echoing on marble. But before she reached the gate, Ariel's hand caught her arm.
The seraph's eyes burned with unfiltered hatred.
"You think you can wash away sin with mercy? I'll show you what Heaven does to those who forget what they are."
Mary looked at her, silent, her expression unreadable. She simply pulled her arm free and whispered,
"I remember perfectly."
Ariel glare"ugh everything reminding me of it he was like a father and you took it"which Mary didn't answer
Then she walked away — wings hidden, halo dimmed, but resolve bright as fire.
Long before she was called the Fallen, Mary was the Chosen.
A mortal maiden, radiant with faith so pure the heavens themselves turned their gaze upon her people used to worship her as a god by her mortality and fairness even the most corrupted would sooth to her sweet word thought everything changed when.
The High Entity — the nameless light from place even heaven don't know — chose her womb to bear salvation itself.
A son who would cleanse sin, unite Heaven and Earth, and prove that purity could walk in flesh.
But fate is cruel, even to those blessed by gods.
The child — the promised savior — never drew his first breath.
He died before the prophecy could live, leaving only silence in the cradle and grief where miracles were meant to bloom.
Heaven, unwilling to waste its "chosen vessel," took her in.
They remade her — not a mother anymore, but an angel.
Feathers replaced tears. Faith replaced sorrow.
And soon, Mary found herself among the perfect.
Among them stood Ariel, proud and burning like a star — and Adam, the first born of divine clay, commander of Heaven's Legion, sculpted perfection given will.
Mary admired them.
Not because they were flawless — but because she longed to see something human in them.
One evening, she was invited by a few lower angels to join a "test."
A "game," they called it — a test of virtue.
Adam stood at the head of the gathering, the perfect smile of divinity masking something cold beneath.
Before him knelt five souls — humans who had fallen into sin, now twisted into demons, trembling in chains.
"The rule is simple," Adam said, his tone casual, almost kind. "Each angel gets one arrow per round.
Hit them five times, they die. Survive all five rounds, they earn forgiveness."
He made it sound like mercy.
But when the first arrow struck, the sinner screamed — holy light burning through flesh, searing soul and memory alike.
Mary flinched.
The others laughed — radiant, pitiless laughter that echoed through the marble courtyard.
The rounds continued.
One by one, the sinners fell, their bodies unrecognizable, their prayers unanswered.
Mary's turn came — and she froze.
"I don't want to," she whispered.
Adam turned to her, his voice gentle — but filled with judgment.
"never said you can refuse "
He tried to guide her hand, to make her aim.
Something inside her broke.
Tears blurred her sight as she pulled away — the bow slipped, light arced —
— and the arrow pierced him.
Adam staggered. His halo cracked — a blinding fracture across his divine crown.
The sound was like glass breaking across eternity he didn't die from the arrow hitting him he died because her redemption ability accidentally triggered feeling threatened.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then he fell.
The perfect creation of Heaven — the first man, the flawless image — shattered by a single act of compassion.
The light around him dimmed. His halo, broken, blackened — and as Heaven's laws dictated, what was once divine, fell.
Adam's soul was cast into the pit, no longer the first born, but the first fallen clay.
Mary screamed, reaching for him, but the others recoiled in horror.
Ariel's eyes blazed — grief and hatred twisted into something darker.
"You killed him," she hissed. "You killed perfection."
From that day, Ariel bore his title as commander, and Mary — once the mother of salvation — became the mother of sin.
Heaven stripped her of light and cast her down.
But she never cursed them for it.
She only wept — not for herself, but for the broken beauty of what Heaven called perfection now she is who we call Mary the holy maiden even if heaven would never call her that hell
would with open arm.
Somewhere eles in
Hell – Outskirts District, Noon Flame Cycle
The sound of a horn echoed through the smog.
A battered truck rolled down a broken obsidian road — its wheels squealing, its passengers arguing louder than the engine.
Inside sat the same crew from the Infernal Company: Pyro, Marso, Alana, the wolf-girl luna, and the purple-skinned artist Angelo — the supposed "son of Beelzebub."
Luna yawned, chewing on sulfur candy while leaning out the window.
"You sure this is the right place, boss?"
Marso grumbled from the passenger seat, flipping through the mission note Mary sent them:
> 'Collect willing sinners and deliver to the Reformation Facility.'
"'Willing,'" he muttered. "That's a joke. No one in the Red District is willing to do anything but stab you."
Pyro slammed the wheel in frustration. "We're bounty hunters, not charity workers! Why the hell are we doing this?"
"Because," Alana reminded him sweetly, "you said you'd lick boots for money. She paid in advance, remember?"
That shut him up.
From the backseat, Angelo was sketching quietly, notebook balanced on one knee.
He wasn't focused on the argument — he was drawing. The outline of a cracked halo, wrapped in chains.
Marso noticed. "What's that supposed to be?"
Angelo shrugged. "A sinner trying to be holy. Kind of poetic, right?"
Luna barked a laugh. "You're weird."
"Maybe," he said. "But at least I'm trying to understand them."
They reached the edge of the Sludge Quarters, where demons crawled out of tar pools and hounds gnawed on bones.
It was the kind of place Heaven would burn without blinking — and the kind of place Mary wanted to save.
A scrawny imp spotted the truck and hissed.
Pyro cracked his knuckles, flames flickering around his hands.
Marso sighed. "Remember, we're not killing this time."
Pyro's grin faltered. "Not even a little?"
"No."
"Ugh, fine."
The team spread out, approaching the crowd of outcasts — fallen imps, weak vampires, failed sorcerers or faes the cursed race of hell.
Some laughed at them, others spat, a few listened.
Angelo raised his voice.
"Listen up! Anyone tired of this life — tired of crawling, tired of burning — there's a place that'll take you in. You get one chance at redemption."
The crowd laughed harder.
A one-eyed demon shouted, "Redemption's a scam, purple-boy!"
But one voice — quiet, trembling — rose from behind them.
A demoness missing half her horns, clutching a broken rosary.
"Can… can it really make me human again?"
The team looked at each other.
Marso whispered, "You think she means—?"
Angelo just smiled softly, his strange aura flickering for a second — something like light behind envy.
"Maybe not human," he said. "But something close enough."
She stepped forward, and the first sinner was saved.
The others watched, and something strange stirred in the hellish wind —
like even the Inferno was curious what would happen next they finally get one dam that took lot of effort but they surely adds up over time and they would add up
Pyro spoke as he looked at other
"thats but dangerous fun fact we would be in hell hold if Angelo wasn't with us"
As angelo asked what even a hell hold as he got answered quickly pyro wanted to answer but marso spoke as his tongue
"prison where they took sinner usually not because sinners did something bad but because the people on charge want to as we suggest redemption we would be taken if you're not a son of Beelzebub"
Lastly at the lab of marmon
The lab was silent except for the hum of glass chambers and the slow drip of cooling blood.
Marmon stood over a table of half-assembled machinery, his claws still faintly steaming from work. The air shimmered faintly around him — reality bending, whispering equations no mortal or demon could name.
Then it struck.
A pain deep in his chest — not the kind that tore flesh, but the kind that fractured thought itself. He gasped, gripping the counter, black ichor spilling from his mouth as if his own mind was rejecting him.
His hellish organs pulsed violently, sigils burning under his skin.
"Not… now," he rasped, knuckles scraping metal. "Just— a little bit more—"
The lights dimmed. The shadows thickened. Something vast and formless began to press through the walls, distorting the air like heat waves.
And then a voice — low, resonant, neither male nor female — slipped through the cracks of the world:
> "A little bit more, yes... But don't make it long."
Darkness swirled around marmon as it hugs around him
Everything froze. The sound of it bent the lab itself, bottles trembling as if terrified.
Marmon's body convulsed. The darkness retreated, leaving faint marks across his veins like burnt ink. He staggered up, his eyes hollow but burning with that same cursed intelligence.
He whispered to no one,
"Just a little bit more… until I'm done."
The hum of the lab returned, but something unseen lingered — a weight behind every whisper of air as marmon stand back to his feet what was that? You will know later~
(I am iralings next chapter would be more about sinners and their lore so no hell heaven stuff just Mary actually trying to help sinners)