*****************************

Johnny 'Iron Consul' Caldwell

With a breath as heavy as the steel platform I stand on, I levy Fate Sealer at this pale bastard's forehead. They lie kneeling, helmet removed, and bullet holes inlaid all over them. This one was exponentially easier to checkmate than Mislo. Though, I suppose he's not dead yet.

I need some information first. Time is ticking.

"Where is your Warmaster? How long until he arrives?!"

A bloody chuckle is my only answer as Ruaq seethes through his teeth, leaking crimson. His broken Carcass lies shattered beside me, and I glance at it with hopefulness. I hope Earl can make something of this. Sighing, I try again, placing Fate Sealer against his skull for emphasis.

"This is non-negotiable. Tell me or die."

Ruaq laughs again, his fingers brushing against his broken battleaxe. The edge is a hundred feet from the haft where we stand.

"You will kill me anyway, gunslinger. Just do it."

I narrow my eyes, trying to find a way around this. I need a timescale. Eli kept saying as fast as possible, but I need more than that. Gauging how long we have to escape is essential to saving as many as possible from the aftermath of Demigods.

There is likely only one, and I would say it's worth it. If I can beat him once, I can do it again. Ruaq is strong, I will admit, but Excavator is simply too decisive. He managed to checkmate me, only a moment from ending my life, but my stored Golden Eye reversed it all. And so, the fight started once more with him wounded while I was the same as when we started.

"I will let you go if you are truthful. I care more about the people I can save than your life."

Ruaq's bruised and bleeding expression twists with a measure of scorn, disgust, and a slight bit of thankfulness. He opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. Groaning, I nod and encourage him as the clash between the swordsman and spearman gets closer.

"Come on. It's not a betrayal. In no way will my getting the information affect your race or your Warmaster. I seek it only to help other humans survive."

Finally, my egging on works, and the Nahullo speaks. Our races have been at odds for hundreds of years, but... we are the closest among all others. Our languages are similar in structure, our bodies not that different in stature or look, and our systems compatible enough for children. We fight, we rage, and we have issues that last beyond centuries, but sometimes, we ally.

It's rare, but it does happen. Which is why I figured I could convince this Councilmember. Once you have their respect from displaying your strength, their views rapidly change.

"From what I heard from Karn, there are approximately six hours before Leviathan and Behemoth arrive. They left their abodes about twelve hours ago. To cross the whole continent takes them roughly twenty or so, a little less for the hulking one. As for the Warmaster... he is already here. The wisened one is simply waiting for the right time to strike."

My heart sinks at the answer, but I accept it. Ytern is not far. He might already be within the bounds of Blackstone. Shaking my head, I step back from the defeated enemy, choosing to show mercy rather than delivering the final, lethal blow with a bullet to the head. In that fleeting moment of respite, the very earth beneath my feet seems to hold its breath, a lull in the storm of violence that has engulfed the city. I take a deep breath as something feels off, the taste of battle and the stench of death still fresh in the air. But there is something else. The sky feels... stale—almost frozen in anticipation.

But in anticipation of what? I can recognize this feeling as that which comes before someone becomes an Angel—what I felt near Tomas when he took the leap. Yet, it's off. It simply is... bizarre as a calmness encompasses me. Waving off Ruaq as a warning, I face where I last heard Lennon. If anyone needs help, it's him.

"Go. If I see you again, I will kill her."

Ruaq nods, full of shame but still relieved to be alive as he backpedals away, heading westward and northward through the city. But before serenity can fully settle, and before I can take even a step toward Lennon after gathering my bearings, the world is jolted by an earth-shattering shout that tears through the very fabric of reality. The sound, as thunderous as the roar of a God, seems to resonate with the core of the city itself. It reverberates through the buildings and streets, drenching the city in its unnatural substance. Bricks are lifted from their mortar bindings, and several buildings near the epicenter of this tempest topple like fragile toys, their cries of descent merging with the tumultuous roar of the Ether shifting the air.

In the wake of this cataclysmic event, there is a momentary stillness as the shockwave passes through us all, a pause in the madness that has plagued the city. My hands grip Fate Sealer tightly, preparing for something else to emerge. Sigiled, demons, and beings of various races, who had moments ago been locked in a brutal struggle for dominance, now stand frozen in place. I pivot around, finding nearly everything frozen in confusion or fear. Their eyes reflect a mix of bewilderment and terror as they attempt to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what has just transpired.

The atmosphere quivers with uncertainty, and for a brief, suspended moment, the city is held in a paradoxical calm. It's as if the very foundations of this place are haunted by an eerie quiet, while the distant echoes of chaos linger in the air like a fading dream. It is not a newcomer. If it was, those of the alliance of the three races would be moving. They are not. It is something else. Someone else.

My brain nearly fractures in realization as the cause can only be one thing—or one man. Lennon Hull.

But as reality soon reasserts itself, a deafening clash of disorder breaks the silence. A visible curve of condensed air surges skyward, reaching toward the heavens themselves. The clouds, once serene, are cleaved apart in a section of the sky, their fluff-like forms disrupted by an undeniable force. It reminds me of Marshall's act of defiance upon Death's unearthly grip but at a slighter scale. Instead of shifting the skies and summoning storms, Lennon cut the clouds.

Instead of Shattering The Sky, he sliced it. Not quite the same monument, but one that I could not even dream of doing nonetheless.

My heart is shaking with tremors as I can hardly fathom what is happening. Beside me, Ruaq gawks at the sky, the Nahullo whispering under his breath. Craning my ears, I pick up his words.

"A second Absolution. What might!? Karn must be having a blast..."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The world is again plunged into chaos as the combatants below the sky scramble to make sense of the split atmosphere. Unlike the Unangelic, however, I sprint toward the roar, silently praying to Vincent that Lennon isn't dead yet. Might as well get used to it if the man will become a God. They can answer prayers, after all. Only the Devil ever cares, though.

Accelerate practically deletes the distance as I leap onto a particularly large pillar collapsed from a building, using it to pass by a remarkably harsh battle as I release dozens of bullets into the enemies' side. Nearly a hundred demons, Nahullo, and Pygmy drop before I pass entirely.

I get a few cheers of thanks, but I focus on the man who likely needs my help. I twist around a corner, kicking off a wall to move faster before landing on my feet and scurrying onward. I climb over a collapsed and ruined butchery, only to find something I was not expecting.

Echoing laughter saunters into my ears as Karn, the Devouring Spear, kneels with a gash that extends from his right hip to his left shoulder. The only section connecting his lower half to his upper is his right hip. The thing strands of muscle and flesh hang like a cord of rope, so close to being severed.

Worried, my eyes flicker downward, discovering Lennon with similar wounds as a spear lies within his chest, the man slumped against rubble. His eyes are closed, and his body is motionless. Engorged, seemingly ruptured arteries and veins run along his whole form as his eyes bulge outward from his sockets. I gaze closely at him, peeking inwardly at his chest, breathing a sigh of relief as I see a slight hump in his chest, reminiscent of a heartbeat.

His heart's still beating. That spear is probably keeping him from bleeding out. I should probably leave it in until I find Dawn.

However, the infamous spear shatters before my eyes, the weapon crumbling into disjointed pieces as Lennon's blade is nowhere to be seen. Worries blossom as Lennon's countdown of life has started. He's tough and way deadlier than I, but the wounds he's sustained resemble Wyatt's kind of fighting. The Nahullo smiles at me, almost uncaring of my arrival.

"WONDEROUS! Hahahaha! What a blade! I call this a draw!"

Karn shouts to the heavens above, his body aiming upward from his wounds. I step forward to Lennon and place myself in front of the man with closed eyes as I aim at Karn. I can let Rauq go as I'm confident I can win in a rematch, but I can't do that for Karn. The Devouring Spear, while not a mass murderer of humans, is not kind. He is ruthless and like Lennon in their search for strength.

Better I kill him now.

"Don't."

A hand wraps around my left forearm. I shift my pupils downward to see Lennon with his bulging eyes glaring at me fiercely. They speak of a warning—do not interfere. How is he still awake? Let alone moving?

"I have to, Lennon. He's a massive threat. He might even become the new Viceray. Do you think you can take him if he gets a Corpse?"

The wounded man doesn't reply. He only sputters out more blood as his heartbeat slows even further. I aim forward to finish Karn off with a bullet to the head, but a shout halts me once more.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

Glancing right, fury rises within me as I see Tomas, direly wounded and unconscious, carried by Ruaq and an unknown Pygmy. Metallic shards poke out from all over my close friend's body, like a thousand tiny blades close to ending his life. Ruaq smiles at me with a knowing grin as he speaks.

"A life for a life, eh? I know you enjoy your trades and deals, gunslinger. What about this one?"

Fuck. I should have killed him after getting my answer. Dammit! Why did I think Angels would be any more honorable than the average Sigiled! Foolish. Even after all these years, I still do shit like this?

Ma always said I was too kind for this job. Maybe she was right. It sticks with me even now. However, at the same time, I might have saved Tomas' life in this way. Not the juncture to dwell on uncertainties. Gritting my teeth, I consider the options.

Kill Karn as he sits wounded and have Tomas die as well, breaking my promise to Marshall, or I turn over the Virtue in exchange for the Power. The answer is obvious. I have to sacrifice the young man. It's the correct answer.

Removing a Virtue for the cost of a Power? That's something only Marshall has done as of the recent century. I don't think this quite counts with Lennon, though it's close. The monster in human skin almost did it, but just not quite.

It's so wildly impressive that I see more than just Marshall within Lennon's broken form. He's been an Angel for so little time. Even less than me, if I remember correctly. How does he grow so fast? I know the answer, but I can't bring myself to emulate it. Constant fighting. He throws himself at every challenge, head-on, uncaring of the consequences. It is a miracle the man still breathes at this moment. Though...

My Pa always said miracles are made, not granted.

He reminds me of the stories of the previous Graves. The stories of young Killian Graves and young Vincent Harvey. Both of those men were unstoppable—forces of nature that tore through the Territories uninhibited, though Vincent was able to catch and tame Killian after a while.

But... Tomas has potential, too. He's not weak. He likely only lost due to the sneak attack of Ruaq, which is my fault. If I had simply gone against my word and killed him, everything would be fine. Marshall's adopted son is by no means inexperienced or unworthy of life. But is he worthy of a Virtue?

I'm not sure. Truly. I'm not sure. He's someone that the Unyielding Wall placed much emphasis on. Yet... none of it matters as I gaze at the bleeding man's body, lying motionless at the feet of the Pygmy and Nahullo.

He's a friend—a close one. And even if I didn't know a damn thing about him, I'd make the same choice. Through clenched teeth, I prepare to deliver my answer, not even looking at my foes. I could Glitch Lennon. I have my full right eye available, capable of shoving him back a full minute.

With that, we could kill these two certainly. But... I worry about the impact my eye will have on his new Absolution and how our battle will affect Tomas. Will it—

"So? What's the answer? You wait any longer, and we're just gonna fight anyway. They are about to bleed out. Angels aren't invincible, y'know?"

Ruaq hurries me, the Pygmy beside him levying its crossbow at me, made of some unknown material. Sighing, I give them my reply.

"Yes. Leave him there. Once you get close to Karn, I'll lower my Colt."

Ruaq eyes me suspiciously but laughs jovially and saunters over, dragging the Pygmy with him. The demon gives me a mischievous grin before speaking as he holds Karn's unconscious form. I hardly noticed when the Nahullo fell cold due to his horrific injury.

"Come on, Timemi. Caldwell is honorable. He won't betray a deal he's made."

My heart fumes slightly with his taunting words, but I don't press the issue. Instead, I carry Lennon to Tomas, holding both in my arms as I quickly retreat. Karn is severely injured, and Ruaq immediately tends to him happily, spouting out grand words.

"This is wonderful, Timemi. I know you got your pops to carry you, but I need a new Carcass, and saving this battle-obsessed fool is certainly worth it."

As I step away, however, my feet pause as a waterfall of ice is thrown onto my senses. Timemi? That name... it's familiar. Pygmy... Tonuyn is the name of the current Creator. Carried by a father... Could it be?

Doesn't matter. I need to move.

Pushing forward, I drag the two wounded men with me through the streets of Blackstone in a rush to get out of here as fast as possible. But as I move, I find a suspicious lack of demons, Pygmies, or Nahullo. Faraway, sounds of moving liquid and roaring air are present, likely Edward still distracted by his battle.

I'd like to help, but I can't with these two in my arms. So, instead, I search for Dawn so she can put these two back together. I cross over several streets of rubble, careful not to kill Lennon from the movement. After nearly a whole block of searching, I find what I'm looking for, and while it's not quite what I expected, I welcome it.

The entire main street of Blackstone is filled to the brim with bodies, most of which do not display even a single sign of a wound, as if they died a touchless death. My mind flickers to the giant figure I saw amongst the many in the horde, the image coming back to me for some reason only now.

Aniwye.

Wyatt's mother—adoptive—no, not even going to try. That relationship is far too complicated. The Soul Eater killed her own army? Why? What the fuck did that dumbass say? No matter what, it's good news.

I carve a path through the bodies and rubble, searching for him or the demon, but I only find hundreds of wounded men. Many are soldiers from Bent, but not all of them are. Those numbers are dwindling, even if many are growing stronger. I spot several 5th Sigileds and even a new 6th Sigiled among the wounded. Rich, I believe, was his name. I nod to him, and his bandages that cover his whole torso as I carry my two equals to Dawn.

She's tending to four people at once, but she stops the second she notices me, even with the bags in her eyes that sink down to her cheeks. She is about to kill herself at this rate of effort. Yet... I can't bring myself to stop her from continuing. She knows the risks of what she does. So, I haul the two onto the table without a moment of pause, saving my introduction for after.

"Lennon first. He's been bleeding out for several minutes. I can barely even sense his heartbeat anymore. Tomas is hurt, but his regeneration is keeping him up, plus all those metal shards are keeping the blood in."

Dawn nods to me, and she immediately moves to the swordsman. As she does, I reload my revolver, finally taking the time to do so now that I'm not in as big of a hurry. I also ask her what plagues my mind. The question is fuming to a boiling point as I notice Virgil at the edge of my sight without the young man.

"Where'd the suicidal one go?"

Dawn doesn't even have the spare focus to laugh as she reconnects Lennon's innards, but she does toss me an answer.

"With that... demon. Something about doing what's right. I didn't have time to listen."

I raise an eyebrow but nod and deliver her a warning.

"I'm going to go aid your husband, but we really need to get going. Take everyone you can and go. We have six hours to get to Gravecross, possibly less, maybe some more. Hop on that train with whoever you can."

Dawn pauses for a moment as her hands shake. For a doctor to freeze like this, her surprise is quite evident, enough that I realize what it means before she says it.

"We'll have to leave a lot of them behind. That demon killed most of the army, but more are coming soon. If even the Dominions are on their way... to reach Gravecross... it's almost impossible."

I sigh and give her some encouragement as I recognize that today will be a great day of death. Perhaps one of the worst in history.

"True, but it's not impossible, is it? I'll be back. Just be gone before I am. Edward and I can catch up. Take all the carriages. Do anything to get you across. I don't care what it takes, you hear me?"

Dawn doesn't linger for a moment as she continues to suture Lennon.

"I will. Don't let him die, okay?"

I nod, making another promise I know I don't have the power to guarantee.

"Of course. I promise."