That Same Day:
Gabriel walked back into the sports hall. The damage hadn't been cleaned—craters, cracks, and scorch marks still littered the floor, silent memorials of the second challenge. To the side stood Saraline, alone, staring at the ground.
"Grover!" Gabriel waved, pulling the Seventh Saint out of her trance as he walked over quietly. "Fucking Thidos."
Saraline stood on the spot where Jonah had died, her eyes drifting from Gabriel back to the crater where the spirals had erupted.
"He sees us as sport."
"From working for him… to being his entertainment." Gabriel knelt, placing his hand on the floor in silent respect for Jonah. "Even kids like this boy—innocent, carefree—forced to die for a stupid challenge."
"We're supposed to protect the weak. He was weak. So why didn't we do our job?" Saraline clasped both hands together. Her armor melted away into a royal cape with a silver poncho. Her sword, once radiant, was now cracked and jagged, dull as stone. "I've had this thought for a while—that I'm no longer a Saint."
"We've fallen off." Gabriel gave a hollow chuckle. "I'm supposed to be the Second Saint—the Archangel. I have wings, but who am I shielding with them? I'm pathetic. Truly pathetic."
"I was tasked to kill the Imp. It should've been another Saraline Grover success. I was always the weak one who still managed to get things done. A weakling protecting the weaker ones. But I never even touched him. I got sidetracked, trapped, forgotten."
"I fought him. I didn't try hard enough, and I got my ass handed to me." Gabriel shook his head. "The Archangel… losing to a killer. The Imp was just drinking at my bar, muttering about how much he missed Samiel. I felt pity and let him stay. Hours passed, everyone else left. Maybe they knew better than me. I lost customers, so then I fought him."
"And you lost?" Saraline giggled bitterly. "Jeremiah's with me now—the little kid. When I first met him, he scared me."
"I love that kid, but he shouldn't hang around me. I'm a failure, and he has potential."
"The Reprisal exists to recreate Saints, right? That must mean Thidos is worried. Or maybe it's just so he can replace us."
Gabriel snorted. "Being forced in here makes me think about it. I could go to Medea and become a Slavi."
"A Slavi? Medea only started those after the Saints. And his whole schtick is demonic."
"Can't remember. Can't care. Eliza's worse—sitting on the corpse of Invalia, doing nothing. A wasteland for a century. Only Floria and Ostra remain options."
"Why do we care?" Saraline muttered, her green eyes flicking from the crater to the gouges where Gloxer had raged. "Look where we are. Hell. Trapped with weirdos."
"Weirdos? I'm one too, I guess."
"How? You're calmer than years ago."
"I get an irritating voice in my head. It started after the first challenge. That shadowy head—I'd met it before. It's why we found you. Now it just whispers, always criticizing. 'Gabriel, you gonna stop this fight?' or 'Gabriel, that boy died on your watch. You're a filthy saint.'"
"And what do you say?" Saraline rested her shoulder on his.
"I cry. That's all I can do. Archangel? How am I better than any Saint if I can't even save one kid?"
"The Saints see us as failures. They're right. We are."
"There was no way to save him. Someone had to die. Better him than us…"
"Is it, though?" Tears streaked Saraline's cheeks. "Because now I live knowing I stood there—motionless. 'That's the point'? I just stood there and watched him die. Watching children fight—for what? My survival? I'm supposed to risk myself for anything. No wonder the others look down on us. We can't even do our jobs!"
Her final shout echoed through the ruined hall.
"And when I do move? Not to stop the madness, but to indulge in it. I punched the Imp—the Imp who was trying to stop the madness! I blamed him because I was angry. I thought I was hated for not killing him. No… They hate Saraline Grover because she's a selfish loser who can't save a life."
"I lost Opena. Spent everything to buy the rights to own it—gone. Just like that. Just to make this gym my domain." Gabriel flicked his fingers and a wall sprouted a gun, which he caught. "I'm a mistake. So I'll fix it."
Saraline's eyes widened. She ripped the gun from his hand. "We're mistakes, yes. But we can't take the easy way out. We have to atone—and do our jobs."
She fell to her knees, beginning to pray. Gabriel hesitated, then followed.
The doors to the sports hall shut.