“C’mon, everyone on the trucks! That ugly shithead’s coming at any second!” shouted one rifle, waving his hand frantically, pushing anyone running past him closer to the transports. The soldier shouted again raggedly, his voice dying at the end. Panic was heating up inside his throat, steadily rising to a boil as the gravity of the situation settled in.
Pillar Creekwood was in the Miracle’s direct path. An evacuation was ordered for all non-essential personnel and civilian workers alongside any refugees still in the area. Seraph and Conqueror had given the order.
The air was turning into a suffocating gray from the exhausts of the transport trucks and sparkled from the SMVs pumping mana into the air. Distantly the perimeter was ignited by bright gunfire and brighter magick, monsters hissing as their deathrattle, clamored and clumped together at the high walls.
People were stuffed like sardines, sitting together suffocatingly or standing shoulder-to-shoulder just a few bodies away from a crowd crush. When they absolutely couldn’t fit any more, wheels spurred and engines roared, driving away from Pillar Creekwood. Wordlessly a few thoughts circulated the Ordoians as they passed the endless barricades. They prayed their escape wouldn't be intercepted; they hoped the Sungrazers would fall and Ordo would triumph over this tragedy; and if those thoughts were to go unrealized, then all they could do was contemplate on their past. Their lives were in their driver’s hands and whatever luck they had escaping the immediate battlefield.
On the other side, only necessary personnel remained: a fighting force to defend the Pillar from the continuous onslaught of the monsters—which somehow weren’t cowed by the rampant arrival of the Comet. Engineers and workers to maintain the Pillar’s systems and die with it, like a captain with a sinking ship.
Slayers rushed around the outside area, relieving casualties and reinforcing positions, keeping updates on Wonder’s progress and the skeleton crew staying back. Amongst the chaotic rush was White Herald, the Team Leader of High Dominion, a high-ranking squad composed of Slayers specializing in a form of holy magick. The same team who’d aided Monarch and her Royals to negotiate a deal with the Void God alongside Evenfall and Problem.
Ironically enough, while struggling against the Miracle, White Herald was quite skilled in miracles itself—performing phenomena powered by one’s faith in a higher power. The Sungrazer took an alternative perspective: phenomena that could not realistically happen in normal circumstances. Like finding a cure to an incurable disease, finding a winning lottery ticket to pay off your debts, or the Lord smiting the Comet where it stood.
These miracles, ultimately, were inconsistent at best.
Yes, we cannot rely on the System to slay the Sungrazers where they stand. It has given us its powers for a reason, he contemplated as he calmly walked to the correct position, his eyes attuned to [Divine Magic Sight] to project the ritual’s diagram onto the ground. Due to the number of legs on the ground, the projection was sometimes unclear but he dealt with worse conditions. An endless blizzard. Sandstorms.
To have prosperity, you must build it. To have hope and happiness, you must create it. To earn miracles, you must combat Fate and the Master of the Universe will listen to your struggles.
White Herald found the location and smiled to himself, oddly tranquil despite the ruckus around him. He adjusted his robes, laid down his staff, and about now passerbys noticed him. Some asked of his identity, some already knew, but nearby chatter was silenced and onlookers retreated when a white aura blasted from him. A harmless energy emission caused by a high-ranker’s prowess.
“Oh Lord…” muttered the high-ranker, feeling his heart race with adrenaline. Finally, everything was coming to him now as subtle as an eighteen-wheeler.
Drawing from the white dye of his robes, the color dulled.
Like dripping wet paint, the dye seeped into the ground and followed the exact specifications as seen in [Divine Magic Sight], splitting off in four directions to draw the outline. White Herald’s eyes flickered between the branching whites, ensuring that the pattern was followed exactly with no deviation.
Within twenty seconds, his part of the diagram was complete, feeling his mana connect to the other Dominion members like an electrical circuit. White Herald let out a sigh of relief and thanked the right people.
He found himself in a circle that could fit two of him. He kneeled, took off all extraneous accessories and placed them around him in meticulous order. Items spaced perfectly apart down to the micrometer. Additional objects were retrieved from his [Inventory] of holy nature, perfect emblems to further fuel the magick. Nothing could disturb him from the ritual. An invisible barrier prevented anyone from stepping inside the circle and pebbles clinked off the dome.
White Herald clasped his hands together and concentrated, inputting his very being into the ritual. He located the High Dominion members in their designated places: Pilgrim, Temple, Divineer, Ivory Knight, and Zeal. That was everyone besides from Votary, who was of course with the Baptists.
“I apologize for being so tardy with my preparations,” he spoke to his team through a shared mental channel.
“It’s no concern to us, White Herald,” spoke Ivory Knight, his voice clear and unhindered by doubt. “The ritual has encompassed Pillar Creekwood’s perimeter. Everything is ready; all we need is your permission and we can start.”
“Good.” Truthfully, White Herald was uncertain if this ritual will provide enough protection given how it tore through the initial defenses when it’d awoken. For that reason he was glad that the team’s most junior member was absent; someone as bright and fiery as Kezia should not be extinguished here if worse came to worst.
In the present world, there was a high-pitched whine indicative of Wonder. An eerie sound like an electrified tornado siren, and what followed was an ominous roar of destruction. It was distant, miles off, but so intense that it sounded near. Shouts emerged from the aftermath and White Herald knew it was time.
“I believe that is a good signal to begin,” he said, inhaling through his nose for the strenuous effort ahead. “The Lord will guide us.”
Everyone muttered a response in unison. Behind their few words, there were determination and hope existing at the same time with uncertainty and acceptance. Together, they pooled their concentration and assimilated into a single mind. The ritual diagram became engrossed in light and mana, and the holy energy harmed any foul beast who continued to dare assault Pillar Creekwood.
There, the High Dominion members began chanting in Ecclesiastical Latin, the official language of the Catholic Church, with White Herald leading the verses. All those years studying at Gregorian University, shadowing his seniors, memorizing and embedding these esoteric teachings into his very spirit itself… It seemed as if this was the climax of his life: buying Ordo’s high-rankers enough time.
In the end, he was simply one cog in the greater machine—rather, a single string woven into the tapestry of the universe.
He refused to break.
[Synergy: Grand Miracle - Scutum Fidei]
[Synergies], when all hands join together to create phenomena greater than what any two hands could perform: the [Scutum Fidei], a grand protection miracle.
The ritual emerged into the third-dimension, no longer being restricted as mere white lines on the uneven ground. Across Pillar Creekwood, transparent white statues emerged like a museum exhibit. Good fellows of the faith, hands clasped together and heads low, acting as the audience for this performance.
There were shrieks of awe and wonder. Men and women pointed upwards at the glossy translucent white barrier forming around them as it took the shape of Pillar Creekwood’s perimeter. Once the barrier had enclosed the structure, additional layer was added: wispy, golden bands looped around the circumference, intangible as energy.
High Dominion continued to chant in Latin and they would continue their prayers as long as [Scutum Fidei] was maintained.
It didn’t take much time to find the very enemy they’d prepared this miracle for.
White Herald had his eyes shut but he sensed the Sungrazer’s presence like an elephant stomping into the room. Distant cries of familiar-sounding high-rankers came to him. Great clashes of magick and unsure attempts at coordination. It seemed that they still hadn’t found a way to impede Wonder.
That became certain once the high-pitched whine sounded.
He tensed, sweat dripping off his chin as though this was a scorching day. His fingers locked together, his legs losing feeling, but he maintained his perfect posture while his words gained a desperate strength.
Although his eyes were closed, his eyelids went red with light.
A deafening crash lodged the next word in his throat and he had to force it out, his tone halfway to genuine tears. The earth screamed from the impact and convulsed violently. White Herald nearly fell over but he kept himself in that position, feeling the protection of [Scutum Fidei] wane and break and crack.
But it resisted Wonder’s destructive laser.
Whether or not it could survive the beam’s continuous onslaught was another matter.
He felt an extraordinary amount of pain in his body. More than he remembered feeling in any single instance. It was as if his very soul was being burned out of him. The same strain was heard in his team’s voices, suffering from the backlash of [Scutum Fidei]. Screaming their agony in every syllable, being forced to maintain such a precise and powerful miracle lest they would all be killed.
High Dominion’s condition deteriorated by the seconds. The pain somehow got worse. It was getting difficult to maintain consciousness. White Herald felt his body going cold as a death in winter.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
[TEAM STATUS]
INCAPACITATED: Zeal
Zeal collapsed first. His contribution put further stress on his comrades.
It would be a cascading effect from here on out.
[TEAM STATUS]
INCAPACITATED: Temple
INCAPACITATED: Pilgrim
White Herald hunched over, focusing on good things to keep himself conscious.
[TEAM STATUS]
INCAPACITATED: Divineer
Ivory Knight was the last one. He was always the toughest in the team in terms of resilience. But even he too had his limits.
[TEAM STATUS]
INCAPACITATED: Ivory Knight
How many seconds passed since then? Five? Seven? Ten? No, they were stretched into hours. High Dominion fell and the only one remained was their Team Leader.
There was so much pain that death from cardiac arrest was possible. Yet his hands were stubbornly fused together and refused to be torn apart. His words wavered but adamantly fought against destruction.
There was so much suffering that he couldn’t think anymore. He reverted to his primal instincts, and they were the ones that kept his body together and moved his tongue for him.
Was this how Archknell felt in his last moments?
“—Ah,” White Herald uttered between ragged breaths. Since when did he open his eyes, and when had the world gone white?
Would there be peace after this—?
[Honor Exhibition]
[Celestial Lightning]
[Voces Magicae - Vajra]
In his final second of awareness, a magnificent combination of lightning had struck the Sungrazer down. The [Scutum Fidei] collapsed but the Pillar stood.
[TEAM STATUS]
INCAPACITATED: White Herald
~~~
“Is everyone here? Is everyone accounted for?” Initiate asked around, waving her cigarette as though it was a baton. She began naming names to faces, tipping the smoking stick down each time she did so, leaving bits of ash on the ground.
In Remembrance Plaza, Echo Team was given the order to prioritize Wonder over Ikeya and Kreutz. Right now, the Journeys plus Blackviper were arguing with officers and Team Leaders while the Superweapon was powered up behind them, itching for a second use.
“Alpha’s here!” clamored Victor, pulling off a white bracelet off his wrist: Devoy. Votary and Celestial War Empress were with him.
“Here’s Charlie!” next was Uprise with the Hugo brothers.
“I have Bravo,” Forest Master said as she held Devoy up. Spirit Beast Queen was drinking a stamina potion.
“Last but not least is Delta.” Evenfall stepped up. His team was made up of Glories: Problem, Montana, and Head Officer Fenrir. He recounted, “We’re missing Gul who’s currently fighting against Kreutz in Vesper, our charming commander istationed in the Encampment, and our people in Foxtrot. I think we have the Baptists in order. Let’s not waste any time, then. Come on out, Devoy!”
Suddenly, all five strips of Devoy were yanked from their carriers and slammed together into a rotating white ball. It took a few seconds for the sphere to change shape. It elongated and stretched out until it resembled a human body.
The Baptists and their escorts mutually stepped back as the Void God finally took on a human form like the Comets. Unlike them, he actually looked human and not some shoddy impression: Devoy decided to become a tall, skinny man wearing a white gown down to his feet, similar to one you’d wear in the hospital. He had straight long hair that fluttered around emotionlessly, and his eyes had dark empty black dots.
He looked around the Baptists cold as the devil.
“I’m assuming we are following your Conqueror’s initial plan?” asked Devoy, his voice changed not even the slightest compared to his staff form. “That I will embed myself within the confines of the demesne and attempt to wrestle control from the Miracle?”
Evenfall stepped forward and nodded. “That’s correct.”
The Void God sighed, lowering his eyes. “I will remind you again: I struggled with the Lesser Watcher’s and that was under control of that Fragment. Even with my power as a Void God, clashing with an awakened Comet—whose special ability involves high-level demesne craft—does not enlighten me with the greatest hope.
“Unless you offer any alternatives while we have the time?”
Fenrir pointed to the Superweapon. “I have an idea, Void God. If you could break yourself down into five parts, then maybe you could be a mortar for us.”
Devoy was not amused. “I believe you are more equipped to be a martyr like your late Guild Master.”
The Head Officer bit his lip and cocked a head nod to Montana. “How the hell did we get ourselves into this situation?”
Montana shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Maybe we could stuff Devoy into Wonder directly,” suggested Operator. “Or since we got Cosmic Beasts around, why not have him, y’know, eat them.”
“I would still be fighting the Comet but the second idea is intriguing.”
“Are you saying that out of self-interest?” asked Fusil.
“Yes. For my interest and yours.” Devoy remained cool despite being challenged by the intense gazes of the Slayers around him, especially from the high-rankers. “However as potentially fruitful as Operator’s plan may be, you lack time. When I arrive at the locations of the Diminutive Cosmic Beasts, Pillar Creekwood may already be destroyed alongside swaths of your forces. Minutes matter. Seconds.”
“So it might be best to follow our original contingency and hope for a good outcome,” Celestial War Empress stated as she was in deep thought. “Will you at least hinder Wonder?”
Devoy nodded. “Yes. It cannot ignore me when I siege its castle. To what extent is anyone’s estimates. To the extent of my own efforts is again dependent on your estimates. Now, while I would immediately sacrifice myself for this quaint city, you humans enjoy your hierarchy. Confirm with your Conqueror and I will impede the Miracle’s demesne—”
“Allow me to contribute.”
A mixture of yelps and shrieks rattled the Baptists as a hunched elderly man in robes appeared between Victor and Spirit Beast Queen. He tapped his cane as though his entrance wasn’t enough of a signal for his arrival. He peered at the crowd through his bizarre mask where one eye was extended outwards like a telescope. All across his sage-like attire was Arabic calligraphy.
The same man who’d encountered the Problem Children in Operation Darkspace.
Fusil swiftly raised his [Cloudstrider] but Evenfall jumped over to forcibly lower his rifle.
“Wait wait!” shouted the demon, “that man is probably friendly! He’s the one we met in the Hold!”
Votary, despite Evenfall’s declaration, held one of her sawn-off shotguns, her fingers tight around the grip. “What are you doing here, sir?”
Problem shifted his posture and a hasty breath left him. “Yes… What are you doing here, sir?”
The old man shrugged and stared at the cursed child eye-to-hidden-eye, oddly fixated on him. “I’ve decided to show myself because you imbeciles couldn’t be half-assed enough to differentiate your fingers from your toes. In more pleasant words, things have gotten dire enough that my superior requested my intervention but I would’ve done so regardless. She can go meet the devil for all I care.”
Multiple Baptists attempted to use [Basic Information] to pull up his profile—but from their expressions, all they had were failure and confusion.
The man chuckled; he knew that would happen.
Fusil clicked his tongue and came forward amongst the group, rifle lowered. Fenrir did as well. Both Head Officers put themselves in vulnerable positions for everyone’s sake.
The Royal asked first, “How can we trust you—?”
“We can,” Problem cut. “We can trust the senile rag.”
Fenrir shot back, “You don’t know that, Problem—“
“I do know. I know better than you ever could, Fenrir. You took my word for many things and let this be another one: this man can be trusted. And that goes for the rest of you too. On my honor as a Slayer. If my trust is misplaced then hand me a blade so I can disembowel myself.”
Everybody was taken aback by Problem’s sudden conviction. They had every right to question the stranger’s motives. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to consider him as the enemy, but you could trust Problem’s word; he was their resident genius fluent in all sorts of magick.
Most of all, experts like him do not make absolutes.
While some Baptists had reservations, they did not make them known.
“How’re you gonna do it?” chimed the Beast Queen, her amulet warm with lightning energy.
“Who are you is also a good question,” followed the Empress, crossing her arms. “Unless you want to be referred to as ‘Senile Rag’.”
“Don’t make such arrogant demands, young brat and younger brat,” said Senile Rag. “Your strategy is surprisingly well thought-out despite your commander barely having hair under his chin. It’s not perfect but given the circumstances and variables at play, he displays more practical intelligence in minutes than entire university departments throughout years.
“Attempting to sever the connection between the primary energy source and the demesne using the Void God, not a bad idea. If the demesne operates under our rules, but since we are gathered here, it does not. You’re losing, Ordo. You have three Sungrazers—or two with the addition of a Cosmic Beast—on the field of play.”
“Plus the other two Beasts in Windvent and Flares,” added Initiate.
Senile Rag shook his head. “Levin killed the Windvent Beast, and I had to help that yapping numbskull Thakur kill the other one. Yet even with their deaths, you’re not in a winning position. Not when the Miracle’s demesne is still active. It’s the very card that will decide the outcome of this battle—or more aptly, a wall. The Void God is not enough to overpower Wonder and its hold over the city, so alongside the Void, I will join him with my own [Discovery].”
“[Discovery]?” asked Devoy.
“Yes. The demon and glorified nun saw its handiwork in the mad inventor’s amusement park.”
“The technomancer traces,” answered Votary who still had her shotgun equipped but relaxed.
“Not technomancy.” The Rag rolled his eyes under his mask. “Appraisal. My [Discovery] is a form of appraisal that physically breaks down objects and living beings into their conceptual parts, no different than destroying a man on a molecular level. It has its limitations as most things do; however, as long as it can be analyzed—as long as it exists—I am theoretically able to deconstruct it.”
“And you can do this over the entire city?” Evenfall questioned, flabbergasted.
“Yes. Not as easily as the Void God here but yes, I can.” The confident old man turned to the night that was lit by supernovas. He sighed. “It’ll be a tiring thing. One of these days, I will pass away in a ditch and find true happiness there. For now, I appear before you hapless Slayers as the 153rd Constellation of the Almagest, the Starry Scholar—Telescopium.
“Be thankful that the other Constellations are not present in Ordo.”