Chapter LXIX: Excitavit
The chapel walls quake under the weight of battle. Screeches echo. Shadows twist. The air is thick with smoke, fire, and cries of war.
Adrian slashes forward with all his strength, his staff cracking into one of the devils. It vanishes in a burst of black ash—but another immediately takes its place. Then another.
Wyn twirls, pouring palm oil and chanting under her breath, barely keeping them at bay.
"Adrian!" she gasps. "We're running out of oil!"
"And strength," Adrian mutters, staggering back. "There's too many!"
The shadows close in, demons snarling as they leap from the balconies and crawl out from under broken pews.
Then—rushing footsteps.
From the chapel entrance, two figures burst in, robes flowing, swords in hand, crosses around their necks glinting in the chapel's fractured light.
"Adrian! Wyn!" a voice calls.
Adrian looks up. "Father Edgar?"
"Father Emilio!" Wyn exclaims, breathless.
The two priests raise their swords high, shining silver in the dim light. In their other hands, they hold flasks of holy water.
They charge into the fray without hesitation.
Holy water splashes in arcs, burning through the demonic swarm. Their blades slash with divine precision.
"Take these!" Father Emilio shouts, tossing swords toward Adrian and Wyn.
Both catch them. The hilts are warm—alive, almost.
"Fight with us!" Father Edgar roars. "God's army stands strong together!"
With renewed strength, Adrian and Wyn grip the blessed swords and dive back into battle. Their blades cut through darkness like lightning tearing through a storm.
But the devils fight harder, sensing their time is short.
In a corner of the chapel, the priests get surrounded.
"No!" Adrian yells, trying to reach them—but it's too late.
The devils descend on Fathers Edgar and Emilio, overwhelming them.
With a final cry, the two priests are struck down, falling to the ground—bodies unmoving.
Adrian freezes.
Wyn stares, stunned.
"No…" she whispers. "They came to help us… and now…"
Hopelessness coils around their hearts.
Until—
"Do not give in."
Liz's voice cuts through the battle like a bell.
From across the chapel, she stands—still clashing with Ivan, her flaming sword blazing bright against his jagged black blade. Every strike between them explodes with a metallic clang that echoes to the rafters.
"Keep your faith alive!" she cries, deflecting a downward blow from Ivan.
Ivan laughs as their swords lock. "Is this all God's army can do? Fall one by one? Look at them—broken, weak. Pathetic."
Liz grits her teeth. "You may strike us down, but we rise again. That is the power of God."
Ivan scoffs. "Your God is silent!"
Liz's eyes burn with conviction. "He is omnipotent. His silence is not absence—it is preparation. And we are His answer."
She pushes Ivan back, flames crackling along her blade.
Behind her, Adrian and Wyn fall to their knees beside the priests' bodies.
They clasp their hands together, swords laid across their laps.
And they pray.
"Lord," Adrian breathes, eyes closed, "if we are to be your hands in this world, then fill us. We are tired. We are afraid. But we will still fight, if You lead us."
Wyn follows, voice trembling. "Give us Your strength. Not for glory… but to protect what is holy."
The chapel glows softly.
Ivan sneers. "Look at them… still praying. You'd think they'd learn."
And then—a flash.
Brilliant white light erupts from Adrian and Wyn.
Their eyes open—glowing gold.
Their hands grip their swords tightly, and the blades erupt in holy fire. White-blue flames race down the metal, yet the swords do not melt. Instead, they shine even brighter.
They stand, power humming around them.
The devils sense it. They screech and charge.
Adrian and Wyn move as one—spinning, slashing, burning through the demons like wind through dry grass. Every strike purifies. Every motion blazes with divine fury.
Demons scream and disappear into light.
Ivan stumbles back, eyes wide.
"What… what have you done?" he snarls.
Liz smiles, never taking her eyes off him. "You mocked us for praying. Now see what prayer can do."
Adrian and Wyn step beside her once more—swords aflame, eyes bright, unwavering.
Together, they face Ivan—God's flame, burning at full strength.
And now…
The end is drawing near.
The chapel trembles once more as Ivan raises his hand high, summoning a fresh wave of devils from the swirling shadows above. Their grotesque forms descend like vultures, shrieking and clawing at the air.
But Adrian and Wyn are no longer shaken.
With flames still roaring along their swords, they cut down the devils with precise, righteous strikes. One by one, the unholy creatures fall, reduced to dust and sparks of fading evil.
Adrian leaps forward, slicing through a winged fiend. "Wyn! The priests!"
Wyn nods and rushes to where Fathers Edgar and Emilio still lie. She kneels beside them and presses her glowing hand to their shoulders. "Please," she whispers. "Get up."
The priests stir.
Adrian kneels beside them too. "You're not done yet. We need you."
As if touched by divine breath, Fathers Edgar and Emilio slowly rise, their expressions confused at first—then resolute as they see the battle still raging around them.
"Go," Adrian commands. "Check on the servers. Make sure they're safe!"
Father Emilio nods. "May God be with you."
With that, the two priests rush down the aisles and disappear into the hall leading toward the lower levels.
Back near the altar, Liz and Ivan are locked in a furious duel, each swing sending bursts of light and shadow across the chapel walls. Ivan grits his teeth, his power coiling into something darker, stronger.
He leaps back, raising his jagged sword high.
"This ends now!" he roars, channeling all of his darkness into one enormous wave of black energy.
Liz grips her flaming sword, breath steady, eyes burning with faith.
"NOW!" she screams.
In perfect synchronicity, Wyn, still holding her sword in one hand, draws out the bottle of Holy Water with the other. She charges toward the image of St. Lorenzo Ruiz, ducks under a swinging claw from a devil, and leaps onto the altar base.
She splashes the Holy Water onto the statue.
A hush.
Then—
Cracks.
The marble image begins to crack down the middle. Light escapes through the fractures, beams of holy radiance shooting out like morning sun piercing night.
Ivan's attack barrels toward Liz, but it falters—his shadow can no longer overtake her. The light around Liz grows, amplified by her unshakable faith. She glows like a sun in the middle of a tempest.
Ivan's eyes widen in horror. "No… No—what are you doing?!"
The devils around the chapel begin to shriek in agony, covering their ears, stumbling away from the light. Some burst into flames. Others collapse into ash. A few flee—but most perish by their own hands, unable to withstand the holy presence pouring from the cracked statue.
Ivan's expression twists in disbelief. "NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
Then—
A burst of golden light.
The statue shatters completely.
And from the center of it, standing tall, robe glowing, Bennett emerges—radiating divine strength. In one hand, he holds the Book of Life, and in the other, the palm of martyrdom.
His eyes are soft and full of mercy.
His presence—unshakable.
"Bennett…" Liz whispers, breath caught in her throat. Joy wells in her eyes, mixing with tears.
Bennett turns to her and smiles. "You've done well, my love."
Adrian and Wyn stand beside Liz once more, blades still burning.
Together, the four of them face Ivan.
The dark sorcerer takes a step back.
His jaw tightens. His sword trembles.
Fear, for the first time, enters his eyes.
They do not flinch.
They do not waver.
They stand as one—Anointed. Armed. Unafraid.
The tide has turned.