Hidden in the Northern Crags of what was once ancient Austria lies a place untouched by satellites, drones, or divine surveillance. Not because of concealment spells, but because the land itself rejects eyes.
This was Craterhold, a monastery forged in the heart of a divine catastrophe — where, a century ago, an angel fell from the stars and left a wound on the earth that never healed.
Here, the Ministry Church kept their last vow.
To protect the Four — no matter the cost.
As dawn broke over jagged cliffs, the boys approached on foot, bloodied, bruised, and burdened.
Ren had a gash across his temple. Haru's foresight had triggered twice already that morning. Daiki limped from a cracked rib, and Icarus… Icarus was silent, his chains faintly glowing under his cloak.
They were not boys anymore.
They were war-bound echoes of fate.
At the gates stood a woman in priest robes laced with armor, silver-white hair cascading like moonlight. Her eyes held steel.
"Welcome," she said. "I am Sister Ruth. Guardian of the Last Sanctuary. You're late."
Icarus met her gaze. "We lost Evalyn."
For a second, her face cracked.
Then she turned. "Then this war has already begun."
Craterhold was unlike any holy place they had seen.
Giant gears ran through its walls — relics of forgotten technology that hummed with divine energy. Scrolls written in both binary and sacred tongue littered tables. The chapel pulpit had a pulse.
"It's like… science and religion made a baby," Daiki muttered.
Ren cracked a smile. "More like they committed heresy together."
Haru touched the stained glass, his expression unreadable.
"I dreamed of this place once," he murmured. "Only in that dream, it was… burning."
Sister Ruth led them to the central chamber.
There, on a massive slab of black marble, lay a single line etched in golden script.
"When the four sons awaken, one shall rise, one shall fall, one shall betray, and one shall end it all."
Daiki stepped back. "What the hell does that mean?"
"It means," Ruth said, "that none of you are safe — not even from each other."
At that same hour, in the heart of the Vatican, something unholy walked through the halls dressed in saintly white.
Seras.
He wore the body of a Cardinal now — skin flawless, smile divine.
No one questioned him.
Because the Vatican had long stopped checking who walked in, so long as they bowed and spoke Latin.
He passed ancient vaults and whispered to the darkness behind them.
"You smell it too, don't you? The coming storm."
From within the walls, something snarled.
The demons were no longer coming.
They were already here — and in high places.
Training Begins – The Four Unlock More
At Craterhold, the boys had no time to rest. The Ministry's finest warriors — those not corrupted by fear or coin — began training them the moment they healed.
Daiki stood under a mountain ledge, fists wrapped in sacred sand. Each punch shattered stone. The ground beneath him trembled, rising to his will.
"The earth listens," whispered the monk beside him. "But only if your heart is heavier than stone."
Ren practiced on the edge of the wind cliffs, blade drawn, blindfolded. He moved like a dancer, storms forming with each breath.
"The sword is not just a weapon," said his mentor. "It is the conversation between air and will. Don't command — ask."
Kaito sat alone in the forge chambers, disassembling and rebuilding his pistols. Flames danced around him — not wild, but disciplined.
"You burn brightest," said the blacksmith priestess, "not in rage, but in reason. Fire that thinks is fire that kills."
Haru was different. He meditated beneath the sanctuary's well, submerged in ancient waters that whispered timelines.
"What do you see?" Ruth asked him once.
He opened his eyes slowly.
"I saw Icarus," he said. "I saw him standing atop a tower of corpses… smiling."
Back in the Gold Room, the High Cardinal finally announced it.
"The Four are no longer saviors. They are sinners. Apostates. Demons in human skin."
He raised a decree written in angelic blood.
"We, the Holy Council of the Pure Flame, declare a Crusade upon the Ministry Church."
Across Europe, holy armies stirred.
Spires that had been silent for decades now rang with war bells.
Paladins took up their relic blades.
The angels imprisoned beneath the city stirred.
The world had not seen holy war in a century.
Now it would see it burn again.
That night, Icarus dreamed.
But it wasn't his dream.
He stood on a mountain of bones, stars broken above him. The sky bled red. Chains coiled around him — alive, writhing, hungry.
A voice spoke in the dark.
"You think you're the hero. You're just the beginning."
He saw himself — a version twisted, laughing, draped in wings that were nothing but broken swords.
"One shall rise. One shall fall. One shall betray…"
A single figure walked toward him from the void.
And he recognized the face.
Haru.