Catherine was the first to jump. The longsword in her hand crackled with lightning as it effortlessly sliced through an angel's wings. Though angels had wings too, they were no match for the power and mobility granted by the artificial steel wings worn by the androids. One by one, the androids leapt from the aircraft, weapons blazing. The thunder of explosive rifles and the shriek of chainsaw swords echoed through the skies. Their rage was enough to ignite the feathers of these extradimensional beings. Among them, Catherine—whose faith and loyalty ran deepest—fought with unmatched ferocity. Her alchemically enhanced body granted her speed and strength far beyond human limits, further amplified by her feedback-driven powered armor. She looked like a crimson rose blooming across the battlefield.
She had not earned her status through the Monarch's favor, but through raw skill and iron will. Her swordsmanship and combat prowess were unrivaled within the Sisterhood, making her the de facto commander of all assault teams before the Royal Guard had fully formed. Most of the Monarch's security missions had fallen under her care. In this ambush, her talents were on full display—she smashed a centaur-type lower angel's shoulder with the magazine of her ornately decorated explosive pistol, then stepped on its back and blasted a massive hole through its body. Without even checking if it was dead, she reversed her grip on her longsword and drove it through the torso of another angel, already moving on to her next target.
From initial contact to confirmed kill, the entire process took only ten seconds.
Her armor and steel wings were soaked in blood—she was the battlefield rose in name and in truth.
Meanwhile, the assault gunship shifted its mission parameters. Originally, under Catherine's chain-of-command authority, its purpose had been to break through the angelic formations, deploy the Sisterhood near the Monarch, and then provide fire support. However, a higher-level order had overridden those instructions: the gunship was now to prioritize the safety of the androids. Catherine cursed under her breath—it was a command from the Monarch. She knew how much he cared for the lives of his artificial daughters. He often referred to them that way: my daughters. But to them, their sole purpose was to fight and die. Sacrificing themselves in battle was the only repayment they could offer.
The witch moved like a dancer, firing continuously from the guns on her hands and feet, driving back any angel that dared approach.
These were only lower angels; every upper angel that had charged from the direction of the Waterfall Cathedral had already been slain by Solomon. Now, the Arcanist was focusing on mid-level targets. With the support of the gunship and the Sisterhood, Bayonetta was under far less pressure. She even had the luxury of toying with her enemies—killing them slowly, piece by piece, like a cat tormenting its prey.
"My lord, I cannot let you reach the holy mountain."
No matter how powerful Solomon was, he couldn't intercept every angel flying toward Bayonetta—especially those descending from the summit of Mount Fimbulwinter. Even after blasting several with spells from a distance, the majority of the mid- and high-tier angels still reached the witch's path.
They began to destroy the Bridge to Heaven. Slamming into the pavement, smashing pillars, their weapons and divine strength tore through the massive stone structure as if it were spun sugar. Bayonetta and the boy could only watch as the bridge's highest point crumbled—soon followed by the very stones beneath their wheels. Bayonetta jutted her chin up defiantly, stomped the heel of her boot, and turned the bike around—racing back toward the Waterfall Cathedral.
"What now?!" the boy shouted, wide-eyed in panic. The collapse was cascading from above, with rubble barely inches behind the rear tire. The bike teetered on the edge of falling into the abyss at any moment. But that wasn't their only danger. The speed that allowed them to outrun the bridge's collapse also meant they were racing toward the massive angel horde ahead. Behind them, a high-tier cherubim hefted a massive marble-faced sword and hurled it with all its might. Had Bayonetta not swerved at the last second with a twist of her heel, they would've been bisected just like the bridge.
The boy threw a few of his empowered cards backward, but they did little. The sheer number of angels made any effort seem futile. The one behind it all had clearly thrown in everything to stop him from reaching Fimbulwinter.
Squinting into the wind, the boy shouted, "We have to reach Fimbulwinter!"
"I know, little one!" Bayonetta shouted back, firing off a few rounds.
Some upper angels bypassed her entirely and flew ahead—Bayonetta instantly realized what they were trying to do.
They were going to destroy the section of the bridge leading back toward the cathedral. Even summoning Madame Butterfly, who could punch a mid-tier angel to death with a single blow, wouldn't be enough. Bayonetta couldn't stop all of them. One after another, the angels sacrificed themselves, spilling their blood and guts across the narrow bridge, only to be crushed under the bike's nearly one-ton frame. If the tires hadn't had such excellent traction, the slick, steaming angel blood might've sent them skidding into the ravine. Even standing on the opposing side, Bayonetta had to admire their fighting spirit.
"Or maybe they're just plain dumb," she muttered.
She sent a short magical signal to Solomon. Moments later, the assault gunship, still busy carving through angels with bombs and cannons, changed course and surged toward her. The twin double-barreled explosive machine guns on either side, along with the plasma weapons mounted on its attack wings, swept across the bridge, vaporizing most of the angels coming from the direction of Fimbulwinter. Two members of the assault team, clad in powered armor, stood on the wings and picked off any creature that got too close, their rifles and swords a blur of steel and fire.
"What are you saying?!" the boy shouted. He was desperate to be done with this ordeal. Even though Noahdun's climate was warm, it was still winter—and his sleeveless hoodie offered zero protection. He was already half-frozen. If it hadn't been for the warmth radiating from the bike's exhaust pipes, his limbs would've gone numb and sent him tumbling off the bike.
"Nothing," Bayonetta said, pressing the still-hot barrel of her gun to her glasses to adjust them. "Can you ride a motorcycle?"
"…What?" The boy's stomach dropped.
Before he could respond, Bayonetta drew two long swords and leapt from the bike, wings of black and violet unfurling from her back as she flew toward the nearest angel.
"Shit!" the boy flattened himself over the seat, clutching the handlebars. But given his height, he couldn't reach the clutch or brake pedals. Without Bayonetta's magical control, the motorcycle was going wild.
"Damn it! Damn it! Why is everyone so unreliable?!"
He didn't dare let go of the throttle. His memories offered no help with operating human vehicles. Thankfully, the bike began to slow. He was just about to exhale in relief when a violent jolt sent him flying into the air.
He crashed to the ground, pain exploding through his spine and the back of his head, nearly knocking him out. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Everything went blank.
Until he saw the golden spear impaled through the motorcycle—and the man in white robes standing beside the burning wreck, shrouded in smoke rising from spilled fuel.
(End of Chapter)
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