The doors of the throne room burst open as an ensemble of every Saint (minus Gabriel and Saraline) and Angel marched in. The hinges tore off, the slab crashed to the floor, and the thud echoed through the cathedral. No one flinched.
Thidos sat unmoved, eyes pale and calm, surveying every figure below him.
"Lord Thidos, we want to speak with you," Amarze said, his pure white elegance flickering faintly. Beside him, Miles stood with arms crossed, head lowered.
"I have eyes everywhere," Thidos replied. "Do not worry. I will catch the perpetrator."
"No, you won't," Miles muttered, lifting his head. His eyes swirled crimson, the spiral boring into the deity. "You didn't find the Imp until it hurt you."
"This has hurt me," Thidos bellowed, his voice steady but heavy.
"You failed us, Thidos," Peria, the Second Angel, spoke abruptly. "We've served you for decades—some here since the very beginning of your reign. And this is how we are repaid? Our kin dies on your watch?"
The protestors stood like statues, but their expressions painted the scene—an artwork of betrayal, the insignia of hatred.
"Look at our lords now," Lerias cracked his knuckles. "A freakshow as God of Ostra. Eliza, God of Invalia—a kingdom that doesn't even exist anymore. And now you… Thidos."
"And now we have the most incompetent of them all," Amarze added with a grin.
Thidos didn't flinch. "I have been failing you lately, and for that I apolo—"
"What the fuck will apologies do?" Riolo and Prosser barked together. "We're angels—your agents—and we can't even sleep safe."
Miles' teeth clenched as he stomped the floor, his pompadour jolting with the motion. "You killed your own people out of rage. From billions to a million, in one act of negligence."
"Even the Lord of Wrath wasn't this mindlessly violent," Peria growled. His eyes glowed blue, warping into spirals. "Thidos—you never evolved from Xeras Timpleson."
"ENOUGH!"
The voice cracked the walls. Thidos rose, his form shedding its divine sheen. The mask dissolved, and Xeras stood revealed—hair wild, his presence jagged and human. The throne room's air turned heavy.
"I've had enough of this shit," Xeras spat.
"You know what we've had enough with?" Amarze stepped forward, flies swarming around him. Strangely, the swarm pulled people closer, not away. "Your negligence. You sent me to purgatory for doing your bidding. You're so lazy you can't even appoint a First Saint, even though the position's been vacant for years.— until now atleast"
"You call me lazy? Where's my compensation? 120 YEARS OF NOTHING. YOU ALL ARE NOTHING. YOU NEED ME! MY ORDERS! MY POWERS! MY TRIALS! MY REPRISALS! MY EVERYTHING!" Xeras' lips peeled back. His voice cracked, trembling with grief as much as fury. "My daughter died before my eyes, murdered by an Imp. Diane's dress—burned to ash in my hands. Elliot's wooden soldier—splintered, its head buried in the dirt beside what was left of him. And you think I haven't suffered?" His Medusa-like locks writhed as his tongue sharpened.
"That's your problem," Amarze shot back, his voice cold. "You kicked me out of heaven for doing your dirty work. If you can't handle the consequences, why employ someone else to do it?" Amarze turned around to face his allies, "You know why Ezekiel is dead? No– Eliza didn't do it, she came close but she walked away– I should say her real name, Samiel didn't kill Ezekiel. Thidos or should I say Xeras Timpleson ordered me to, he was on the floor– bleeding out and I heard in my head, kill the bastard. I did it, the power of one God– Ezekiel, too strong that the world divided into threes."
Xeras clapped once, slow and deliberate. "And what does that prove? You fell for the trick. Now you're fallen. You sat on the fence of Saint and Angel for decades. Maybe I should have let your mind be torn longer."
"You can't even decide if you're Xeras or Thidos," Amarze spat. "Family or kingdom. Sick. You're no better than the Imp—broken in body and in mind."
Red light burned in Xeras' eyes. He stomped, and the cathedral quaked. Saints and angels alike collapsed to their knees. "You think I wanted to kill that bastard? To throw planets? Quick, maybe. But me?" He leaned forward, his voice sharp as a blade. "I want to dissect that Imp myself."
Miles' laugh rang bitter. "See how you explode at a comparison? How pitiful." His gaze swept the chamber. Rosamire clutched Merlin's paw. Castor and Pollux hid their tears behind lowered heads. Their droplets gleamed, reflected in Lianous' exhausted eyes. Paris rubbed the back of his neck, restless, scanning the room.
"Let's be civil again," Peria said, lifting a pole of gravitational light as a staff. "After the Reprisal, you should retire."
Silence.
Xeras' form shifted back to Thidos. The flawless mask returned, voice smooth once more. "Begone."
A single wave of his aura expelled every Saint and Angel from the chamber.
Miles grabbed Amarze's arm as they staggered into the corridor. They exchanged no words—only a smile. Spirals spun in both of their eyes.
Behind the throne room doors, a hairline crack spread along the marble floor, inch by inch, until it reached the base of Thidos' throne.