The cannon fired.

  There was no warning chant, no final prayer—only a deafening rupture as a single, blinding line of holy light tore across the battlefield, perfectly straight, perfectly merciless, carving through air, earth, and existence itself toward Kevlar, the Maw, and the three Vatican Guardians.

  The world seemed to slow.

  Serena was airborne, her trajectory angled just beyond the line of fire. The beam passed beneath her in a roaring surge of radiance, close enough that the edges of her wings were scorched gold by its wake.

  Kevlar felt it before he saw it—the annihilating pressure, the absolute intent behind it. In a flash, shadow folded beneath his feet. He vanished from the beam’s path, reappearing just long enough to seize Emilia and Castiel by their armor and hurl them aside as the light screamed past where they had stood.

  They reacted too slowly.

  Slavik did not react at all.

  The beam struck him dead center.

  There was no scream.

  No explosion.

  Slavik’s form simply… unraveled.

  Armor vaporized first, then flesh, then bone—his body dissolving into particles of light that were immediately swallowed by the beam, erased so completely that not even ash remained.

  To the battlefield, it was the loss of a unit.

  To Castiel and Emilia—

  —it was the loss of a brother.

  Time stretched painfully thin as their eyes followed Slavik’s fading silhouette, his outline breaking apart into radiant fragments. Tears welled uncontrollably, blurring their vision as the last trace of him vanished into nothingness.

  Castiel’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  Emilia collapsed to her knees, her hands trembling as if still reaching for someone who was no longer there.

  The Maw, massive beyond reason, was not at the beam’s core. With a thunderous shift of its colossal body, it twisted aside at the last instant, the edge of the light grazing past its frame and scorching the ground where it had stood moments before.

  Even so, the force of it sent shockwaves rippling across the field.

  Far behind them, Draculius, Lilith, and the Royal One had already withdrawn the moment the cannon reached its final charge. They stood safely beyond the beam’s path—but not without witnessing its cruelty.

  A cluster of Vatican knights had not moved fast enough.

  One of them, frozen in place, turned his helmeted head just before the light reached him. His visor concealed his face, but Lilith saw his eyes clearly through the narrow slit.

  They were not eyes of faith.

  They were eyes begging for help.

  Lilith took a step forward—

  Too late.

  The beam passed.

  The knight—and everyone beside him—ceased to exist in an instant.

  The light continued on, unstoppable, ripping through the horizon until it struck a distant mountain range. The impact detonated in a cataclysmic burst, a radiant explosion that pierced straight through solid stone.

  When the brilliance finally faded, a colossal hole gaped through the mountain, perfectly punctured.

  The land between—the battlefield, the plains, the ruined formations—was carved into a long, curved scar that led unbroken back to the cannon.

  There were no remains.

  No armor.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  No bodies.

  Only absence.

  Silence fell like a shroud.

  Horror gripped every soul present.

  Holy relic?

  Cleanse the world?

  This is annihilation.

  Some knights faltered, doubt creeping into their eyes. Others stood rigid, traumatized beyond words.

  But the first to move was not an enemy.

  Castiel rose.

  His movements were slow, mechanical. His grip tightened around his moon-arc blade until the metal creaked faintly under the strain. Without looking at anyone, he began walking toward Saint Fariel.

  His voice was barely audible.

  “Your… Holiness…”

  Fariel turned to him, expression utterly calm.

  “What… what was that?”

  Castiel’s steps faltered. His shoulders shook.

  “You said… you said it was for cleansing our enemies. For the great will. For our calling…”

  His voice cracked.

  “But why… why did you fire?”

  His breathing became ragged.

  “Even at our own allies… at us?”

  His knuckles whitened.

  “My… my brother…”

  The words finally shattered.

  “WHYYYY—!?”

  Behind him, Emilia sobbed openly, curled on the ground, while Kevlar stood silently at her side, his gaze fixed on Fariel.

  Above them, Serena hovered in place, her expression unreadable, eyes drifting between the cannon and the unfolding confrontation below.

  Saint Fariel said nothing.

  Then he smiled.

  A chuckle escaped his lips.

  Then another.

  Then laughter—loud, unrestrained, echoing across the devastated field.

  “Ha… ha ha… HAHAHAHA!”

  Castiel froze, nausea twisting in his gut.

  The laughter faded, and Fariel spoke at last.

  “…And what of it?”

  The words struck harder than the beam.

  Castiel stared at him, stunned.

  Fariel lifted his gaze skyward, arms spreading slightly as if delivering a sermon.

  “It is an honor bestowed by heaven to be cleansed by holy light. The washing away of sin. The fading of flesh. His soul shall ascend, purified—”

  His eyes snapped back to Castiel.

  “—for he gave his life to God’s mission.”

  A beat.

  “You should be proud of him.”

  Something inside Castiel broke.

  The blind devotion. The lies dressed as faith. The blood spilled in the name of righteousness.

  It all collapsed.

  He fell to his knees, sobbing, torn between loyalty and unbearable truth.

  Kevlar stepped beside him.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “you have truly woken up.”

  Castiel did not answer.

  Kevlar turned to the battlefield, his voice carrying.

  “Have you all woken up?”

  No one spoke.

  Broken knights, wounded and exhausted, stared at him in silence.

  Kevlar raised his arm and pointed directly at Saint Fariel.

  “THIS— is the one you swore your lives to.”

  “A man who does not value your lives.”

  “A man who does not care if you are loyal, useful, or have families waiting for you.”

  “A man who sees you as nothing more than expendable pawns—”

  His voice hardened.

  “—to satisfy his own delusion of divinity.”

  He exhaled sharply.

  “He claims it is for humanity’s future.”

  “But this—” he gestured at the scarred land, the empty air where soldiers once stood “—is not humanity.”

  “With such cruelty...he is not human.”

  Kevlar lowered his arm.

  “So lay down your weapons.”

  “Leave this place, i do not wish for any more victim to waste their life here.”

  “My only target—”

  His gaze locked onto Fariel.

  “—is HIM.”

  One by one, weapons fell.

  Shields clattered to the ground.

  Some knights knelt, others simply stood in numb silence.

  Saint Fariel watched it all, still smiling.

  Kevlar faced him.

  “Now… it’s just you and me.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Don’t worry....I’ll make this slow and painful.”

  He vanished.

  Kevlar reappeared in a blur of shadow, charging straight for Fariel—

  As he is about to reach Fariel—the cannon suddenly cracked open.

  Light burst outward as something tore free from within.

  In a flash, a figure appeared between Kevlar and Fariel.

  Grey skin.

  Golden ringed irises.

  White hair flowing.

  Six radiant wings spread wide.

  Kevlar skidded to a halt mid-strike, eyes widening.

  The newcomer raised a hand—and pushed.

  A burst of overwhelming light blasted Kevlar backward, hurling him across the battlefield. Shadows lashed out in retaliation, but they struck an invisible barrier that enveloped the figure completely.

  Kevlar twisted midair, using sheer force to counter, kicking off the pressure and landing in a low stance.

  The being hovered opposite him, silent, observant.

  Behind them, Saint Fariel laughed.

  “Hahahaha! Magnificent!”

  “Isn’t he perfect?”

  He spread his arms.

  “Behold, Shadowborn— a true Archangel.”

  “Imagine the joy i had when i found him! It as if the very proof of god is being discovered!!”

  Kevlar shifted his focus on this new player and remained uninterested with Fariel exciting remarks.

  Fariel noticed and annoyed, commanded “Subdue him… Lumiel...i need him alive in one piece”. As Lumiel golden irises glow brighter.

  Back on the battlefield, the Maw had seen everything.

  Draculius and Lilith surged forward, intent blazing.

  “Time to go in and take his head,” Draculius said grimly. “We have a new variable.”

  “So much for a signal,” Lilith muttered—remembering Kevlar’s brief hand sign before being blasted away.

  They closed in to Fariel from the side—

  —and Serena descended like a thunderbolt.

  Her blade struck first, her shield following with crushing force, blasting both of them back.

  Fariel turned to her, pride glowing in his eyes.

  “You did well, my dear.”

  “Now now, you are going to face two of the oldest beings in this world. With your current strength it is still not enough”

  He raised his hands, sigils igniting.

  “I invoke the seal placed upon you—”

  Holy light wrapped around Serena as she tensed, body trembling.

  “—break your limits.”

  “With divine invocation… transcend once more!”

  Pain flashed across her face as another pair of wings erupted from her back, her aura swelling violently.

  Draculius and Lilith felt it instantly.

  Lilith swallowed. “This is bad… her pressure alone exceeds mine.”

  Draculius nodded grimly. “She is close to me now… if not stronger.”

  He exhaled slowly.

  “Looks like i need to go all out with my old bones.”

  His gaze softened as he looked at Serena.

  “My dear daughter… even now, you force your father’s hand.”