Kevlar moved first.

  The moment Lumiel’s wings flexed, Kevlar vanished into shadow, reappearing at the archangel’s flank with twin blades already crossing for a decisive strike. The blades met resistance—an unseen plane of condensed light that rang like struck crystal.

  Lumiel did not flinch.

  He turned smoothly, his movements precise and efficient, devoid of wasted motion. A blade of condensed radiance formed instantly in his hand, intercepting Kevlar’s follow-up slash with perfect timing.

  Steel and light screamed against each other.

  Kevlar twisted, shadows rippling beneath his feet as he pivoted mid-strike—low, then high, then straight for Lumiel’s throat. Each attack was met with flawless counters. Barriers layered themselves instinctively, not pre-formed but adapting, learning Kevlar’s rhythm as the exchanges continued.

  Kevlar narrowed his eyes.

  He’s adapting… learning as the fight goes.

  Every clash refined Lumiel’s defense. His stance shifted subtly, wings adjusting their angle and spread, recalibrating against Kevlar’s speed and reach. His golden-ringed irises tracked Kevlar with increasing precision—not emotion, not intent—only function.

  Kevlar leapt back, landing lightly as shadows curled around his frame.

  “I am not sure whether you can understand what I am saying,” Kevlar spoke calmly, voice cutting through the clash, “but you should be aware of your current position.”

  Lumiel advanced in silence.

  “You are now a puppet on strings to your awakener,” Kevlar continued, eyes locked onto him. “A servant to a master…”

  He tilted his head slightly trying to taunt him.

  “You… an Archangel. Bidding to a human?”

  Lumiel’s expression remained unchanged.

  He said nothing.

  He struck.

  Light bent around him as he accelerated, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Kevlar barely crossed his blades in time as Lumiel’s strike landed—an impact so dense it cracked the ground beneath Kevlar’s feet and hurled him backward.

  Kevlar skidded across scorched earth, boots carving trenches before he came to a stop.

  He rose slowly.

  “Not keen to talk, huh?” Kevlar muttered as shadows tightened around his limbs. “So be it.”

  A faint violet glow ignited along his blades.

  The air recoiled.

  The violet flame crawled across steel like living hunger, its presence distorting reality itself—not burning, not scorching, but erasing.

  Lumiel noticed it and halted mid-step.

  For the first time, something shifted.

  Not fear—but instinct.

  His wings flared wider, stance lowering, blade angling defensively as his golden irises sharpened, recognizing the threat before his mind could name it.

  Serena descended with overwhelming presence.

  Her six wings spread wide, casting radiant halos across the battlefield as her aura pressed down like divine gravity. Draculius and Lilith braced themselves, ancient power rising to meet her advance.

  Serena struck first.

  Her blade came down in a blinding arc of light, forcing Draculius to meet it head-on. The clash thundered outward, shockwaves rippling across broken ground.

  Lilith darted in from the side, dark sigils flaring as she unleashed a curse-laced strike—only for Serena’s shield to snap into place, dispersing the attack like mist against glass.

  Serena moved without hesitation, her strikes relentless, precise—trained, disciplined, and absolute.

  Draculius grimaced as he blocked another blow.

  “She’s is not sparing any spaces,” he growled.

  Lilith barely evaded a sweeping backhand of radiant force, boots skidding across fractured stone.

  “And she’s holding nothing back!”

  Serena pressed forward, wings beating once—sending both ancients sliding backward through shattered terrain. Every step she took forced them to yield ground.

  Her eyes remained focused.

  Not enraged.

  Not conflicted.

  Just pure focus on her target.

  The Maw watched.

  He had seen Archangels before.

  In an age long buried beneath ash and judgment—when the sky burned with divine decree and the earth trembled beneath celestial wars.

  Serena’s presence stirred something ancient within him.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The way she carried her power.

  The restraint beneath the force.

  The silence.

  She reminded him of her.

  An Archangel from his time.

  Mighty beyond measure, yet kind where others were cruel. She had not sought to destroy him, nor bind him, nor judge him.

  She had spoken.

  She had listened.

  She had called him friend rather than it.

  The only angel who ever had.

  And for that—

  She was executed.

  Slain by her own kin when they discovered her bond with the Maw. Her name erased. Her light extinguished.

  The Maw’s massive fists clenched.

  She resembles her…and smells like her

  The thought echoed as Serena drove Draculius and Lilith back once more.

  Enough.

  The Maw moved.

  The ground fractured as his colossal form surged forward, intent sharpening, power no longer restrained.

  Serena reacted instantly.

  As if she had been waiting.

  She twisted mid-air, her free hand snapping forward. Light condensed violently, forming a massive projection of a radiant hammer—its surface etched with ancient sigils.

  The hammer descended.

  It struck the Maw squarely.

  The impact detonated with divine force, sending the titan skidding across the battlefield, his massive body tearing through earth and stone before coming to a halt.

  Silence followed.

  Draculius and Lilith stared.

  Lilith’s breath caught. “She… knocked him away.”

  Draculius’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? That’s a first”

  The Maw rose.

  Dust and debris cascaded from his frame as he straightened, joints cracking, aura shifting.

  He looked at Serena.

  Then he laughed—low, rumbling.

  “Pain…” he rumbled. “Is nothing new to me.”

  His presence changed.

  The air thickened.

  “This time,” he said slowly, “I will not hold back.”

  His eyes burned with ancient resolve.

  “For I have a mission.”

  “And a promise.”

  Lumiel advanced again—but slower now.

  Cautious.

  Kevlar’s violet flame intensified, spiraling outward, consuming shadow and light alike. Each step Kevlar took left void-scorched impressions in the ground.

  Lumiel raised his blade.

  Light surged to meet violet fire.

  The collision split the battlefield once more.

  Lumiel was pushed back a step.

  Just one.

  But it was enough.

  Kevlar smiled faintly.

  “This is getting fun.”

  Lumiel’s wings flared, expression sharpening—not fear, but resolve.

  The duel escalated.

  Shadow and light clashed again—faster, heavier, deadlier.

  And for a while—

  Lumiel no longer advanced recklessly.

  The moment Kevlar’s violet flame flared brighter, the Archangel adjusted—his wings drawing in slightly, blade raised closer to his core. His movements became tighter, more economical, prioritizing distance and angle over dominance.

  Kevlar noticed immediately.

  So even you fear it.

  Kevlar pressed forward anyway, blades tracing arcs of shadow laced with violet fire. Lumiel did not counterattack outright. Instead, he parried—redirected—retreated half a step at a time, his barriers reshaping constantly to accommodate the flame’s corrosive presence.

  The violet fire did not clash with light.

  It ate it.

  Wherever Lumiel’s barriers lingered too long, they thinned, distorted, erased as if reality itself rejected their existence. Lumiel’s instincts screamed with every near miss, forcing him to yield space again and again.

  Kevlar’s gaze sharpened—not with triumph, but realization.

  “…So that’s it,” he muttered.

  Lumiel pivoted, narrowly avoiding a diagonal slash that carved a violet scar through the air behind him. He countered with a precise thrust, forcing Kevlar to deflect instead of pursue.

  Kevlar smiled faintly.

  “It’s not because you’re an Archangel,” Kevlar said quietly as they circled. “No, that’s not what makes your combat sense exceptional.”

  Lumiel remained silent, eyes locked.

  “You’re a genius.”

  The word lingered between them.

  Kevlar stepped in again, faster now—testing, probing. Lumiel reacted flawlessly, despite being forced further on the defensive. Every movement was calculated, every retreat deliberate, conserving energy, minimizing exposure to the flame.

  Kevlar’s thoughts churned.

  A combat mind like this… instinct refined to this level…

  His eyes flicked briefly toward the shattered cannon in the distance.

  “How does someone like you,” Kevlar continued, voice low, “end up entombed inside a weapon?”

  No answer.

  “And not just any angel,” Kevlar pressed, blades humming with restrained power. “An Archangel.”

  Lumiel’s stance tightened.

  For a fraction of a second—so brief it could be mistaken for imagination—his grip shifted.

  Kevlar saw it.

  So he can react. Which means he understood. Maybe a portion of what i said. But it at least something.

  They clashed again, harder this time. Violet flame licked across Lumiel’s blade, forcing him to disengage instantly. He leapt back, wings snapping open, landing in a guarded stance—defensive, wary, but unbroken.

  Kevlar did not pursue immediately.

  Instead, he raised one blade slightly.

  “Whatever Fariel did to you,” Kevlar said, eyes unwavering, “he didn’t take your mind.”

  Lumiel’s golden irises flickered.

  Just once.

  The Maw did not roar.

  He inhaled.

  His massive body began to glow from within, deep crimson light seeping through ancient seams and fractures across his stone-like frame. Cracks spread slowly, pulsing with molten heat, as waves of scorching mist poured from his body and rolled across the battlefield.

  The ground beneath him hissed.

  The air warped.

  This was not rage.

  This was purpose.

  He stepped forward—and struck.

  A right cross claw tore through the air toward Serena, its heat alone igniting the space it passed through. Serena reacted instantly, a golden orb shield enveloping her entire form.

  The impact shook the sky.

  The Maw’s claw pressed into the shield, molten heat surging outward. Steam burst violently as the shield began to glow brighter, resisting—

  Then the heat bled through.

  Not light.

  Heat.

  Serena’s wings twitched.

  The steam penetrated the barrier, scalding her skin, burning through divine flesh. Her teeth clenched ever so slightly as pain registered.

  With a sharp burst of force, she shattered her own shield and shot upward, breaking free from the pressure.

  She hovered high above.

  Burn marks marred her arms, shoulders, wings—charred gold against white. Though her expression remained mostly unchanged, the tension in her jaw betrayed pain.

  And something else.

  Anger.

  The burns began to fade, healing rapidly, divine light knitting flesh as if the damage had never been.

  Lilith stared upward, disbelief creeping into her voice.

  “Seriously? How are we supposed to beat her if she keeps healing even after taking damage?”

  Draculius did not look away.

  “We can’t rely on defeating her,” he said calmly. “Immobilizing her must be our objective.”

  Above them, Serena raised her arms.

  Light poured outward.

  A colossal golden avatar formed around her—a radiant giant mirroring her shape, wings spread wide, gripping an immense war hammer forged entirely of divine light.

  She had sized herself up.

  Equal to the Maw.

  The two giants collided as the hammer met the claw.

  The shockwave detonated outward, ripping through ground and sky alike. Entire sections of earth buckled, air currents spiraled violently, and debris was hurled skyward.

  Vatican soldiers screamed as they scattered, diving behind ruins, rocks, and broken fortifications. Some were blown off their feet entirely.

  Draculius and Lilith unfurled their pair of black wings and took to the air, pushed back slightly by the sheer wind pressure.

  Draculius steadied himself mid-air, eyes locked onto the clash.

  “We can’t interfere too much now,” he said. “This has become a battle of giants.”

  Lilith nodded grimly.

  “But we can still help hold her back,” Draculius continued, “long enough for the Maw to strike her hard enough to knock her out.”

  On the ground below, Saint Fariel struggled to keep his footing as the battlefield trembled violently around him. Dust and debris battered his robes, yet his eyes shone with manic fascination.

  “Oh my lord…” he whispered, breath trembling with awe.

  “It is as if I am witnessing the battle between ancient beast and god....just as it was written in the Book of Eternia.”

  He spread his arms slightly, laughing breathlessly.

  “Their confrontation reshapes the land… splits the sky…”

  His laughter grew unhinged.

  “And at the end of it—this land shall be reborn anew!!”

  He did not notice.

  The situation was no longer moving according to his will.