Most angels couldn't keep up with him. The few that managed to close in on the Arcanist were vaporized into drifting golden motes, mingling with the deep, layered shadows cast by the sacred mountain. Dragging behind him the radiant mist left by disintegrating angel corpses and the magical flames bursting from his own stigmata, Solomon dove at extreme speed. The jet propulsion engines on his back pushed him ever faster toward the masked sage, who stood on the remains of the Bridge to Heaven. His burning soul radiated heat strong enough to vaporize steel.
The two men met with icy hatred in their eyes. There was no grandstanding, no exchange of threats—only the clash of warriors. The instant their weapons reached striking distance, a battle erupted beyond the grasp of mortal perception.
The masked sage wielded his broken spear like twin short swords, fighting with a deft, fluid style.
This time, he didn't hold back. He knew that if he approached this fight with the same mercy or underestimation as he had in Noahdun, he would die. Kamar-Taj—the world's Watchers, both ally and rival. Though they too monitored extradimensional threats, their methods and ideology were vastly different. Kamar-Taj had more enemies, no dependence on bloodline, and grew in strength with astonishing speed. The sage was certain: this man was the disciple of the Sorcerer Supreme. Only she could raise such a formidable warrior. Only her heir could wield the Holy Sword.
Before that incident, the sage might have been curious about why this man's soul burned so brightly. Now, he only wanted revenge. And this man stood in the way.
Holy sword and broken spears danced like lightning, each clash between their weapons like a miniature supernova. Flashes lit up the snow-covered, shadow-drenched valley. Even without witnessing it firsthand, one could feel the rippling shockwaves of their deadly descent.
"My lord!" On the assault gunship, the Sisterhood's strike team had regrouped. The situation was dire—because not all the members were artificial. A few ordinary girls, trained in military combat and indoctrinated in faith, also served under Catherine. In this battle of lopsided numbers, their ammunition was grossly insufficient. Many had been wounded, and even Catherine herself had a blade driven through her thigh. Through the open ramp door, she saw Solomon dive into the dark shadow cast by Mount Fimbulwinter—and screamed in terror.
But the communication channel gave no response. Only silence.
Her heart swelled with fear and fury. Tears streamed down her face before she even noticed. Ignoring her injury and her comrades' pleas, she ran across bloodstained deck plating and leapt once more from the gunship's open ramp. Her steel wings sputtered with the last of their fuel as she dove.
The android piloting the gunship panicked. She wanted to steer after Catherine to protect her, but at that moment, cries rang out over the Sisterhood's comms—and she too felt a sharp, inexplicable jolt in her chest.
Every android, no matter where they were—whether in the skycarrier's command center with Tita or back in New York with Dana—turned instinctively toward Mount Fimbulwinter. The androids, born from Solomon's soul and called "my daughters" by him, shared a link far deeper than outsiders could imagine. On the gunship, those still able to fight leapt after Catherine without a second thought, uncaring whether their steel-wing flight systems were even functional.
Because they saw it.
When Catherine's silhouette aligned with the last blood-red glow of the sunset over Mount Fimbulwinter, her mechanical wings—despite being structurally incapable of movement—began to unfurl, growing like living things into a pair of massive wings. Through their electronic optics, many girls saw every feather clearly. A moment of trance washed over them. It seemed Catherine truly had wings, and faint chants echoed in their ears.
In an instant, the Sisterhood's comms filled with reverent prayer. Even the pilot, swept up in the fervor, could no longer resist. Not all the human girls had been true believers—not until now. But after seeing the hideous, winged monstrosities called angels… and then witnessing her—all doubt was gone.
Catherine herself was unaware of her transformation. She didn't even realize how her wings were still flying. She'd long discarded her helmet so the constant alarms from her power armor wouldn't distract her. Brimming with killing intent, she rocketed toward the battered Temperance angel—her last obstacle between herself and her monarch. She tossed aside her explosive pistol and charged with her longsword, unleashing pure rage and violence.
Against the enormous body of a Four-Virtues angel, Catherine was no more than a speck—smaller even than a single pane of mosaic glass on its skin. Yet Temperance immediately reacted, dragging its blood-soaked body to meet her glowing form. But the angel's cracked porcelain skin shattered as it was pierced by Catherine's golden radiance. She became a divine lance hurled from the heavens, driving Temperance into the black shadow beneath Mount Fimbulwinter.
"We must move faster," said Tita.
But faced with this "suggestion" from the Sisterhood, Mordo remained unmoved. To convince the Arcanist from Kamar-Taj, Tita had to speak plainly. "I believe the Monarch is in grave danger," she said. "We androids were born from his soul. Our bond with him exceeds what normal minds can comprehend. We are his daughters. We felt the burst of stellar heat from his soul. This is not normal. He is fighting for his life. He needs us. This is what we were created for, Arcanist of Kamar-Taj! We need a portal to get these three ships there, even if it means risking being shot down!"
"I know," Mordo said flatly, his indifference infuriating the Sisterhood officers on the bridge. Tita opened her mouth to retort, but Mordo continued.
"I'm not unaware of his state. His soul's reflection in the Sea of Souls is stronger than any of you can imagine. What you see is merely a vessel named Solomon Damonet. And your Monarch—he's lazy. He rarely uses his full power. So, he needs this fight. Do you understand me? Fine, I'll say it simply…"
"This is a command from the Sorcerer Supreme. The Ancient One wants Solomon to awaken his true strength—to confront his essence."
"We know what he is!"
"Yes, he knows too. But he refuses to accept it. He's running from it," Mordo said. "The Ancient One gave him time to enjoy life—yes, a busy life, but still a mortal one. And he did enjoy it. That's why he created you. That's why he built the Royal Guard, why he built the Immortal City. He relied on your power to realize his ideals."
"But now… he must face himself. Even if he doesn't admit it, he needs this strength—for the threats that lie beyond the stars."
"…Why are you doing this?"
"Because he is the ruler of the future. Isn't that reason enough?"
(End of Chapter)
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