Gabriel's twelve wings glowed with divine light as she flexed them slightly. In that tiny moment, her physical form disappeared from where she stood.
When she reappeared, she had moved directly into the thickest group of vampire forces. The flaming holy sword in her hand moved with slow purpose, not like the flashy combat moves you'd expect.
No explosive energy came from the blade. No rushing flames covered its edge. No supernatural shockwave followed its swing.
Instead, something far more terrifying happened—the vampires in front of her seemed to have their souls ripped out instantly. Their bodies went stiff for a moment before crumbling into fine ash.
A single, careful strike had killed hundreds.
With archangel speed beyond human understanding, Gabriel made countless similar strikes within seconds. Her form flickered across the battlefield like divine lightning. When she finally stopped, huge areas of Manhattan had been turned into a supernatural graveyard—ankle-deep ash covering entire city blocks.
In just moments, about 100,000 vampires had been wiped from existence.
Next, Gabriel teleported directly in front of the special vampire commanders, bringing her flaming sword down with celestial power.
"BOOM!"
The geometric, faceless thing that had fought her before threw itself between Gabriel and its vampire allies. Amazingly, this crystal monster successfully blocked the archangel's holy weapon—something that should have been impossible for any non-divine being.
At the same time, the remaining monster commanders launched a coordinated counterattack.
Despite having killed a hundred thousand lesser vampires—greatly reducing pressure on the angel defenders—Gabriel's situation remained dangerous. The angel army's beaten-down condition prevented any backup for her position.
Gabriel felt her supernatural strength quickly fading—these special enemies had abilities specifically designed to counter celestial power. She let out a resigned sigh, recognizing what had to happen.
Looking meaningfully toward the European deity, she shook her head—a silent prayer that she might somehow preserve Heaven's remaining legacy.
With this final thought, Gabriel beat her twelve magnificent wings, rising higher above the battlefield. Golden light intensified around her form as cosmic energy gathered—an aura of world-ending judgment coming from her very essence.
The European goddess watched Gabriel's transformation with horrified understanding. She recognized the ultimate sacrifice she was preparing to make.
How had their divine intervention gone so horribly wrong?
A quick battlefield check revealed the harsh reality—after two systematic ambushes, their once-proud force of 30,000 angels had lost nearly one-third of its strength. Bitter regret filled her heart. If she had stuck with her original position of staying out of it, Heaven's forces would still be intact.
The North American deity's calculated restraint suddenly seemed deeply wise rather than cowardly.
Across the river in Queens, Jason and the Antarctic goddess watched Gabriel's desperate move with serious attention.
Watching the archangel prepare for self-destruction, Jason felt genuine emotional conflict. Gabriel's death would fundamentally mess up Heaven's remaining power structure.
In Jason's assessment, Heaven's restoration had become virtually impossible. Neither the veiled European deity nor North American entity had the necessary qualities for effective celestial leadership. They might manage their respective territories, but any attempt to expand influence or meddle in broader affairs would invite self-destruction.
The strategic implications weren't lost on Jason—if Gabriel's death failed to trigger help from the departed True God, it suggested the absence of cosmic backup plans. The True God might truly have abandoned this reality without setting up emergency protocols.
As they watched, Gabriel's physical form erupted into a sphere of celestial flame. The fire ball rocketed skyward with such intensity that it pierced the black mist umbrella covering New York, creating a perfect circular hole through which natural sunlight poured for the first time in days.
Then came the explosion—Gabriel's essence transformed into an expanding shockwave of purifying fire. The blast wave spread outward with unstoppable momentum, burning every vampire it touched.
Lesser vampires disintegrated instantly on contact. Those with superhuman reflexes tried desperate flight, but the expanding wave of holy fire consumed them anyway.
Only the special vampire commanders kept temporary resistance against this divine disaster. Gabriel had expected this, however, focusing the most concentrated energy specifically toward these elite enemies.
After just seconds of futile resistance, most commanders gave in to the archangel's sacrifice, their bodies exploding one after another like supernatural fireworks.
When the massive firestorm finally died down, only a single commander remained—the faceless, geometric entity, its form burned almost beyond recognition. The surrounding landscape had been purified for several hundred meters in all directions. Conservative estimates suggested between 400,000 and 500,000 vampires had been wiped from existence.
The European deity felt deep grief at Gabriel's sacrifice, but recognized that mourning must wait—immediate evacuation remained most important.
She looked at their tactical options, glancing skyward toward the rapidly healing breach in the black umbrella. The hole created by Gabriel's rise was already closing, the supernatural darkness knitting itself together with disturbing organic precision. The fading shafts of sunlight suggested limited time before complete resealing.
Airspace contained only scattered vampire bats—seemingly not enough aerial opposition.
The European goddess initially considered high-altitude evacuation, but her recent experiences created justified paranoia. The enemy had shown careful planning in previous ambushes—would they truly leave such an obvious escape route undefended? She strongly suspected hidden anti-aircraft measures throughout the city, prepared to target any large-scale aerial evacuation.
She shifted attention back toward the water—deceptively calm after the earlier water assault.
With both air and water routes compromised, only ground evacuation remained viable.
Scanning northward, her divine sight identified an iron bridge spanning the river several hundred meters away.
She steeled her resolve. Their single option had become clear—they must launch an immediate northward attack, secure that bridge, and withdraw from New York entirely. Let others worry about this doomed city.
Behind the scenes, Shuri and the black-robed figure monitored battlefield developments with calculated interest.
The mysterious figure chuckled softly. "Gabriel's death removes the final obstacle to my Lord's design. Excellent work, Your Majesty. Complete the angel army's destruction, and you'll secure my Lord's lasting friendship—a partnership capable of fulfilling your most ambitious goals."
Shuri responded with a contemptuous snort. "Simply honor our agreement."
The black-robed figure studied the holographic display. "Naturally. Rest assured—our integrity remains perfect."
As the European deity mobilized her remaining forces for the desperate evacuation attempt, Jason observed her movements with critical assessment.
Her chosen escape route struck him as fundamentally flawed. After experiencing multiple sophisticated ambushes, conventional tactical thinking became a liability rather than advantage.
Unfortunately, the European goddess lacked military training or exposure to humanity's long history of strategic deception. Her decision-making relied primarily on divine instinct rather than battlefield experience.
More troubling to Jason was the philosophical question underlying recent events. Vampires and angels maintained virtually no historical interaction or established hatred. While natural adversaries by their fundamental natures, the targeted precision of these ambushes suggested deliberate orchestration beyond Shuri's personal vendetta.
According to Ultron's intelligence, Wakanda's princess now commanded the vampire forces. Jason knew her reputation well—one of Earth's most brilliant minds, isolated within Wakanda's technological paradise, harboring deep contempt for outsiders.
Her hatred toward America made strategic sense—the United States had forcibly opened Wakanda's borders, subjecting her isolated nation to unwanted global integration. Similarly, her hatred toward Ultron stemmed from his previous assassination attempt using vampire proxies.
The vampire plague targeting America fit her psychological profile perfectly. Focusing on New York—America's cultural center and Ultron's base of operations—aligned with her vengeful priorities.
But why specifically target the Angel Corps? This element seemed out of place with Shuri's established motivations.
Unless...
Someone else orchestrated events from the shadows.
Jason stroked his chin thoughtfully as a particular figure came to mind—an entity with direct competition against the European deity, intimate familiarity with angelic capabilities, and conspicuous absence during the current crisis.
The pieces aligned perfectly.
I wondered why there'd been no intervention until now. They were waiting here all along!