Alexander was glad that his sudden promotion came during a crisis; otherwise he lacked the political capital even if his shadow was Seraph. Her decision to place him as the commander of the Baptists—and by extension, taking some of her responsibilities as she became a front-line combatant—was met with widespread shock and criticism by officers and Slayers alike. The General of the Army was flabbergasted at this change. No one could really comprehend the fatuity of the situation, not even the two Baptists themselves: a mere Pseudo suddenly taking charge of a counteroffensive to thwart the Sungrazers' expansive operation and launch a subjugation against the three remaining members.

But this was happening and no one had the time for debate.

By all means, this was harder than anything Alexander had faced before. He'd fought on the ground, decapitated monsters and shot them dead, killed Apocalyptics with his own hands, brutally, but suddenly becoming the man behind the screen was another mountain altogether. It was a sea of endless problems that he had adopted, and it was precisely his duty to sift through the bullshit in order to get what he needed.

The easiest part was getting the Big Four to cooperate. He had connections to pull on. Connections he built before the Disaster and especially during it. Angels was a given for obvious reasons, he had established a positive relationship with the late Archknell for the very short time they spent together, there was his little thing with Righteous Jin Tiehan, and Monarch was a close associate of Seraph's and heard of him through the Hugos.

Thus, when Alexander needed escorts for his Baptists, they volunteered.

"Seraph," called Alexander through the System, leaning over Sage as they watched the preparations through a few drones. "Any movement from the Miracle?"

The Angel responded sharply, "Negative. It's inactive."

So it's basically sleeping. I guess that's a good thing. It lines up with the first reports I've received from Sage: Wonder's there, Wonder is in its true form, but it's just standing there menacingly. Alexander's attention was drawn to one screen where a few Slayers weakly launched a few conjurations only to strike blue on an invisible barrier surrounding the Sungrazer. Nothing. He also received a better view of the golden energy trails endlessly pouring into the motherfucker. If he felt the tiniest bit snarkier, he'd comment about how pretty this sight was. At least everyone was following directions.

When the barrier was first discovered, both Alexander and Seraph agreed that it'd be futile to waste resources on trying to penetrate it, knowing it'd probably be kaput once the demesne was down. Instead, they erected a shitton of measures when the fight inevitably began. Defensive, like barriers and physical constructs. Offensive, like planting turrets and manning rooftops, ready for the moment when its eyes opened to the new morning. They had the means to layer the battlefield in elaborate weaves. After all, the big names of Ordo were present. Guild Masters and Head Officers, high-rankers worth their salt, and their accompanying teams.

Alexander had requested a large presence of rifles as well, armed with big guns and enough artillery to flatten a town. Hunting for them was more difficult than speaking with the Guild and Vice Guild Masters. There were rules and protocols that he was mostly oblivious to, the general struggles of being an inexperienced brat, and a myriad of other issues that were worked out through (frustrated) conversation.

But his pain was worth it: Foxtrot had the people they needed and Pillars were adequately reinforced, anticipating the other Comets' arrival.

"Conqueror," Seraph got his attention through the System, "how's your new position?"

"It's harder than I anticipated but I'm managing well with your team here," he answered truthfully. "It hasn't been a full two hours but I feel tired already. If I ever offended you and your responsibilities, I'll hand over my apologies now."

She chuckled. "Sage will help you keep your head on."

Alexander looked down at the vertically-challenged artisan who gave him a confident head nod. "That she will. I—"

"Speaking of responsibilities," interrupted Sage as she tapped away at her desktop, squinting as she read the screen, "we have General Subramanian dialing in. Keep us updated on Foxtrot, Guild Master."

Seraph wished them luck before muting herself in the call, giving the pair the necessary silence for their conversation with the General of the Army. Laying on top of live drone footage of Wonder was a secure communication line where the General's name was displayed near the top border in big, unmistakable letters. "Conqueror, what's the progress on your Baptists' treks? Have any of them arrived at the Pillars?" he asked rigidly, his words partly breaking up, computerized like a bad digital assistant talking.

Without asking, Sage connected the battlemap's data to her screen, showing Alexander the information he needed. Every team was highlighted, spread across the city, alongside key locations and current estimates. The estimates were always updating, adding or taking away minutes in irregular chunks. Sometimes ten, sometimes thirty, even an hour. Information he couldn't necessarily rely too much on.

"Negative, but all of my teams have arrived in their designated boroughs and in the process of linking up with their escorts, sir." Alpha Team was going to be picked up by Rector and his summons; Bravo plus the Baptists in Echo were meeting with the Martials and the Superweapon; Charlie was taking a car-ride to meet Fusil and Levin; and Delta had a personal limo in the form of Fenrir. "Within ninety minutes, they should be at the Pillar to begin their castlebreak."

"Ninety minutes?"

"It's the most generous estimate I can make without crying, sir."

"Ninety minutes," reiterated General Subramanian as though Alexander had the ability to somehow keep his teams to it. "And the Superweapon?"

"It should arrive at Pine Park within the hour." Anticipating the next question, he followed his statement, "We haven't heard any movement from Ikeya or Kreutz, but we're keeping a close ear to the ground. Right now, our top priority remains to be Wonder and its demesne."

"I expect results, Conqueror. This is a kick to the stomach after everything we've been through. By any means necessary, destroy the demesne and subjugate the Sungrazers; we cannot assume our fighters outside the Barrier will rescue us in time. We have to swim against the current."

"Yessir."

"Inform me of any major updates," said the General and ended the call there.

Alexander could finally breathe again; he did not envy Seraph's position at all. "Alright," he said, forcing himself to move onto the next item on the list, "let's check in our dumbasses and see how they're doing."

~~~

[Skill Activation: Practical Ritual - Manifest Amethystine]

“Fenrir, can you keep steady for just one second?!” Problem shouted fruitlessly at the Hound of Glory Guild as wind partly muffled his voice, causing his cloak and Damien’s robes to violently flap. His [Manifest Amethystine], the main skill he used in combat, sent long curving bolts of concentrated purple energy, keeping the torrential birds of prey at bay.

He wasn’t hitting enough of them because they were so damned evasive. And because Fenrir was moving too damned fast and leaping everywhere, like he was playing hopscotch but using the rooftops as tiles.

Which was why Damien stopped bothering to shoot down the monstrous pigeons; unless he had an automatic tracking skill, then it’d be useless to even try. It was a waste of precious mana and Essence.

He locked his jaw and felt the magical chain around his waist, tied to the body of the large silver wolf, tugging along to the whiplashing trek. Evidently the only thing keeping Delta Team from flying away and having a very poor landing in the midst of a monster horde, as the Hound of Glory sped through the borough of Creekwood—the most dangerous of them all. He was as long as an eighteen-wheeler and moved faster than one using legs as thick as old trees. Molten gold boiled in his eyes, and an infernal howl escaped from its giant maw.

If the late Professor Kastellanos, Lykos, had the [Honor] to transform into a werewolf, then Fenrir could shapeshift completely into a mythological wolf.

His growling attracted Damien and Problem, while Montana kept swearing like a sailor as he firmly grasped hold onto his waraxe, taking mad swipes at any bird that came close.

In front of them was another flock: the crooked angels whose wings were stripped and replaced with rusty metal, bent rebar for feathers, and had all sorts of back-alley augmentations implanted into their bodies and their skulls were little more than cages for their middling brains.

And they were diving straight for them, having no fear of death.

Problem cursed something foul and yanked himself forward, gripping onto a tuft of silver fur while extending his other hand. A few feet from Fenrir’s snout was a large [Amethystine] circle of complicated magical geometry and circles, wide enough to protect them.

Protect them it had: the flock crashed into the ritual circle in a chorus of horrid metal scratching and ear-wrenching screeches and terrible sounds of crushed flesh. Like driving a car through a dense crowd as terrible as that comparison was.

Scraps of pink and steel flushed around them. Damien shielded himself with his only arm, feeling wet and gross things rain on him. Blood began painting the Hound red in thin, uneven lines.

“Left!” Montana howled just as a metal-harpy suddenly dropped on him from out of nowhere, talons clutching the shaft of his signature. Ferociously he roared, freed a single hand and clenched his armored fingers around the very thin neck of the pigeon, squeezing hard until the neck was broken and the body went limp, tossed it aside.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Damien braced himself as Fenrir obeyed. He found a sizable rooftop. Like a race car, his body tore through the HVAC systems installed and drifted across the surface, maintaining his momentum, turning into the direction of Pillar Creekwood just a few miles away. Then leapt once more.

Of all experiences he had imagined since the Disaster’s beginning, this was not one of them. Then again, he hadn’t anticipated fighting cosmic entities nor discovering the secrets of the Previous Earth, or contracting with a literal god. So using the Hound of Glory Guild as transport to the Pillar was fairly tame in comparison.

Because of Fenrir, they made up for lost time. At the beginning, it’d been a slow march for everyone, having to embark on a long and dangerous journey, linking up with the relevant escorts in their designated boroughs and finding a way to reach their destination through any means possible.

This was it. Delta Team was making the most amount of progress of the four. Ironic, wasn't it? Since Wonder wasn't that far away.

But its swiftness wasn’t taken kindly by the predators in the sky, who felt no fear in the ravenous gaze of the Hound, instead seeking to pluck the humans off his back like eagles to fish.

“Above us!” Montana cried, looking above them to find a whole other cluster of the metal rats-with-wings.

“I have it!” Damien cried, precariously balancing himself high on his knees, the single arm reaching out to the supernova-illuminated night.

[Skill Activation: Conjure - Fire]

There was a great cloud of fire bellowing above their heads like a flower’s bloom, scorching the jagged harpies before they had the chance to dive down with their talons cocked.

Damien maintained the fire until Fenrir made a disastrously sketchy leap onto a crumbling rooftop, causing everyone on board to slam against each other, but his swiftness saved them from a catastrophic fall and they continued.

Pillar Creekwood was nearer, now. And because they were close, they entered Ordoian land and that meant security. Additional firepower boomed from all sides, sheared through the harpies effortlessly. Below on the streets, Damien saw soldiers looking up from their covers to see the strangest yet hopeful sight. Some even shot a quick salute, a glimmer shining in their eyes.

Slayers emerged, hooting at them in waves of encouragement, doing whatever they could to take the pressure off of their backs.

The entire city was aware at this point: the Baptists were in action and they had just the scheme to subjugate the Miracle. They were like superheroes now. Maybe Damien should invest in a cape.

He exhaled, wanting to collapse and lay down on Fenrir’s back but that’d earn himself a quick exit and a long walk. Montana and Problem relaxed too. The next minutes of their trip would be the least stressful yet as they gradually entered safer territory.

“Jesus!” Montana exclaimed, his axe laying against Fenrir, the blood on the blade staining his fur. “Is that it?! Is that everything?!”

Problem nodded. “As far as we know! Once we arrive, we have direct access to the Heart and Evenfall will slot Devoy in when the signal’s given!” Because if we do it right away, the rest of the Pillars will most likely experience a greater drain.

Fenrir growled as response. Damien didn’t know what he said but he took it as a good thing.

Damien hummed and opened the System, watching the Pillar come closer and closer, admiring the golden trail. “Conqueror, this is Delta Team! I don’t want to jinx us but we’re almost there! ETA fifteen minutes!”

“Alright! You should have no issues regarding clearances or any of that bullshit! Good work, Delta!”

~~~

“Jesus…” Althea collapsed onto the smooth seat of the SMV—the same one that the Baptists had taken during their time in Grendel Arsenal throughout the OBD incident. Wiping away the sweat on her forehead, she mustered enough energy in her legs to sit up straight like a proper lady—a proper lady deep in the bullshit of a war—and peered through the canopy and down below.

Where a fortified convoy of rifles and swords conquered the street, armed to the teeth in high-power weaponry and high-grade defenses that it’d take an S-Rank goon to put a dent in them. Hell, might even survive a direct explosion from all the shielders that Jin Tiehan and Alexander managed to recruit in such a short amount of time.

A majority of the rifles were from the Dawns detachment of Task Force Duskheads—Alexander had contacted Colonel Gillespie for permission, cashing in on pre-established rapport from Wolf Prowl. The task force gleefully took up the call, manning machine guns and having enough ammo to take down whole dragons, remotely controlling turrets and killer drones; Slayers also accepted the call, riding in their own SMVs of unique and interesting designs, filling the airspace with constructs, all to escort the precious cargo: the Wonder Superweapon, what Yatsar and Thunderstrike Hammer were in the process of creating.

Wonder’s attack had happened at the tail end of its development, and seeing the top half of the hourglass was quickly running out of sand, they had to complete the weapon on the way to Creekwood. The two Journeys had completely rebuilt a heavy duty transport truck from the bottom-up, powered by thick energy cells than diesel and “enchanted for efficiency” (whatever that meant), specifically to house the Superweapon. So large that the wheels were a few inches from the curb on both sides, and Althea thought she could hear everybody praying that it wouldn’t suddenly break down—most of all the two geniuses who’d collaborated to remake it.

The weapon itself was an artillery cannon you’d find on a warship. The main body was ugly, looking so unlike a Journey’s craft that Althea would’ve thought it was made by an amateur mad scientist. Discolored steel, ugly welds, and sloppy rivets and bolts were the aesthetic. Folded arms were attached to the thick barrel, looked like the main gun could increase its own elevation. A crew worked on it: Alma, Yatsar, Thunderstrike Hammer, and several others. Probably battle engineers and artisans whose hands were required.

Althea knew nothing else about the Superweapon otherwise in terms of more specific design; Vernon would know more, probably.

The main purpose, however, was this: by siphoning the power within the broken fragments of the [Godslayer Claymore] once wielded by Gigantomachia, it could make the stars bleed.

Righteous Jin Tiehan was at the pilot’s seat of the SMV. Flying beside them was its partner, with Blackviper, Gul, and Initiate inside—Echo Team. The Baptists of Bravo and Echo had the same destination so they traveled together, but when they linked up with the Martials that was when they needed to go their separate ways.

A discussion was had between Forest Master and Jin Tiehan, and it took Althea several moments before realizing they were speaking in Mandarin, not English. She picked out bits and pieces but generally, she was clueless. I’m bringing shame to my Chinese blood…

“Hey!” Althea raised her voice and got their attention. “I might be part-Chinese but I’m not fluent in Mandarin.”

Forest Master exhaled a small, oblivious “Oh.” before bowing her head apologetically, having an absurdly white bracelet strapped around her left wrist. “I’m sorry, Spirit Queen. I forgot.”

“You don’t speak Mandarin?” Jin Tiehan asked, more shocked than disappointed. “Your brother hasn't taught you?”

“He does. He hates me as a student.”

“Huh.” This was the first time seeing the Vice Guild Master so surprised.

She hated the way he was looking at her like a pretentious smartass punching down. “Anyway, when are we leaving to Pillar Dawns?”

Getting to the reinforcements was the hard part, which had been completed. Jin Tiehan had organized a small fleet of aerial SMVs to accompany them to the Pillar and it wouldn’t take no more than forty minutes for them to arrive.

“Soon.” Jin Tiehan pressed a few buttons at the front console. “Blackviper, how goes Echo Team? Any pressing matters before I take Alpha away?”

“None that requires you. Echo Team’s functional and battle-ready, and according to Alma—” The cultivator’s lips twitched, “—the Superweapon will be finished in a little over half-an-hour.”

“Good, the Journeys are just as valuable as our ace; if they make any particular request, grant them. Optimistic estimates are meaningless in a gray world, you are more wise in that area than I am. Thus, I predict we will, as they say, ‘cut it close’.”

“Roger. I’ll send the Baptists onto the cargo if they need more hands.”

“Very well.” A blue screen was opened to the right of the cultivator, unreadable to Althea. “Conqueror, this is Vice Guild Master Jin; Alpha and Echo Team have integrated without notable issues. Alpha will begin its swift travel to Pillar Dawns with a fleet of our finest as our escort.”

“Noted. Update me when—”

There was a scream of wind and the earth groaned and the world flashed to black.

After an indeterminate amount of time later, Althea opened her eyes and found herself in Forest Master’s arms, still inside the SMV but the canopy was blinking, cracking, on the verge of disappearing altogether. When did it get so close to the ground? Angry buzzing pulsated on her collarbone. Shandian was panicking inside the [Housing Necklace]. Jin Tiehan was wide-eyed—the shock giving him some excitement for once—and frantically he searched for the cause while Alexander began shouting for an answer.

Althea hopped out of her comrade’s arms and it didn’t seem like the woman noticed. The first thing that popped out was screaming. Lots and lots of screaming from down under. Horrified voices. Harrowing cries of pain and death. The front of the convoy had been obliterated. Wiped out. About a mile long something had tore through perpendicularly, destroyed every building in its path, scarring Dawns further into ruin like a bad burn.

Nothing remained over there. Just smoke and urban dust.

Wind had rocked there, tore across similarly to the wind pressure that Tewfik could create. The debris had flung wildly in all directions, probably as fast as bullets. Knowing that, it was obvious what would happen when high-velocity detritus met the human body. Many had been protected by the erected barriers from the shielders, by the safety of hiding within their SMVs and armored vehicles, but not everyone was so lucky.

Casualties already.

No notification from the System. None of the Baptists in Echo Team were dead. Good news, at least.

“Errors in judgement is shame embroiled in fault, committed by this offensive, earthly shell.”

But a booming voice pointed to the contrary.

Althea twisted her neck and found a lanky individual levitating above the damage it'd done. A robed figure, having not yet unleashed its true form unlike the Miracle.

In their hands had no universe splitter.

Jin Tiehan hastily reported into every communication channel he had: “Ikeya has appeared on Bronzehall Avenue! I repeat, Ikeya has appeared!”