The night split open with relics and wrath.
The Patriarch of Constantinople lifted a reliquary enshrined in gold and bone, chanting in Greek, his voice cracking like thunder across the battlefield. A spectral dome shimmered over the survivors, the faint silhouette of angels pressing against the barrier from within. Their hymn of steel kept Raum's black wings from smothering the courtyard.
The Pope, white as parchment yet unbending, pressed trembling lips to his staff and whispered in Latin:
"Lux aeterna, extingue umbras.
Per crucem tuam, libera nos."
Eternal light burst from the crook of the staff. Waves of searing brilliance melted lesser demons like wax in a furnace. Kimaris's tide of shadows surged, fangs of the abyss crashing against the glow — but the staff's light burned them away, each tendril collapsing with a shriek.
And then the ground quaked.
Aim, the Serpent of Burning Iron, surged forward with his three heads snapping in fury. Each jaw dripped molten venom; the air blistered with his breath. His claws gouged trenches in marble as he launched for the cluster of relic-wielding leaders.
Aurelius shifted his daggers, ready to cut the beast back into the abyss. The cracks of reality rippled like glass around him—
—but suddenly, a silver blur smashed through the smoke.
A knee rammed straight into the viper's jaw, snapping it sideways with a sound like grinding anvils.
It was Azazel.
The boy twisted in the air, landing atop the demon's searing chest with pistols drawn. His Codex-whispered instincts guided every shot.
BANG!
One bullet tore through the viper head.
BANG!
Another ripped through the grinning human visage.
BANG!
The panther skull exploded in a flash of silver fire.
Azazel's hands shook, but his eyes stayed locked on the Codex's truth. He had asked it one question, and the book had whispered: [Left shoulder]
He aimed.
Ethereal voice resounded in his head: [That question didn't count as it's too small of a request. One bonus granted.]
The last bullet thundered through the furnace-flesh and buried itself in the burning iron shoulder, straight into the hidden heart.
For a moment, silence.
Aim's colossal body convulsed, light spilling from his ribcage. With a roar that shook the heavens, the Serpent collapsed to the ground, his frame crumbling like a smelted forge.
Azazel leapt back, rolling across the blood-soaked lawn, frantically reloading the pistols with trembling hands. He dashed toward the circle of leaders, gasping, "One down."
But Aurelius's voice cut him sharper than any blade.
"IDIOT! I told you to run!"
The Grandmaster's fury shook more than the battle. His eyes burned, dagger-points trembling. "Do you even know why demons are divided in ranks?!"
Azazel froze.
Aurelius's voice dropped to a growl, nearly drowned by the howls of Hell.
"It is not only their power that defines them. It is the hearts they carry."
Behind them, the carcass of Aim stirred. His molten skin cracked, splitting with wet laughter. Three fresh heads writhed upward, new eyes burning like coals in a forge.
He was alive.
The serpent's three voices overlapped into one hideous chorus.
"Clever… clever little insect… You found one heart."
His panther jaw snapped wide.
"But what will you do about the seven more?"