600 Angel Bane Part One

He paused, looking down at Tanamar-- "[Whoa! What happened to you?]"

It was no surprise that Zenon was concerned. The entire side of the footman's face was discolored and bruised. 

The Holy Lancer's gaze hardened as he looked up at the tall, dark-armored Librarian. 

"...I fell."

"A mistake was made," Tycon shrugged. He would not cast the blame on his young friend. He was partly to blame for losing his temper. 

Korr pointed wordlessly at the sleeping Athena, likely inquiring about her condition, as well. 

"Athena was injured and is out of mana," Tycon explained. "I expect her to make a full recovery."

He cleared his throat, standing straight and saluting with his fist to his chest, "Report, if you would."

Korr saluted before flexing an arm, "[I PUNCHED A GHOST TO DEATH.]"

The woman's declaration was... wrong, somehow. However, Tycon understood the point she was trying to make, "Thank you, Korr."

Zenon rendered a Tyrion salute before pointing at the sky, "[Whatever's causing that is probably around this area. The mana around here is similar.]

Tycon nodded, looking up and squinting up at the foreboding ball, "It doesn't seem to be a harmful evocation spell... Any thoughts?"

The Librarian took off his helmet, wrinkling his mustache... "I sense otherworldly energies. I don't think I've ever felt them before..."

Tycon took a deep breath and exhaled through his teeth, "...Brother-Zenon, think carefully about those words... Are you certain?"

Zenon grimaced, but nodded gravely... "Yeah... I'm sure. Do you know what it is, Brother-Tycon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. It's a spell connected to another plane... a summoning ritual, most likely."

This was not the first time Tycon had experienced the threat of an otherworldly invasion. When he was adventuring in the Kingdom, he encountered something similar-- an attack by a rogue warlord from the Plane of Fire. 

He hoped this was just a simple summon, not the opening of a permanent rift. Either way, the situation had become far more complicated than he was hoping for. 

He just wanted to raze a city to the ground and kill all of its inhabitants! Why was that so difficult?!

Suddenly, the door to the still-burning Head Magistrate's residence burst open. Out walked a soot-covered old man, his long white beard nearly burnt completely off. He bent over, coughing ash and blood in between bouts of manic laughter. 

"It's too late, heroes..." He hacked, "It's FAR TOO LATE!!! The summoning CANNOT be STOPPED!!" 

"Hm. It's the Head Magistrate," Tycon mused. "Tanamar, did you have something to ask him?"

"No, I do not," Tanamar sighed. "And f*ck you, sir."

"Granted," Tycon smirked. 

"SOON!!!" Antonidus shrieked, "My new ARMY will swoop down and your pithy rebellion will be ENDED in BLOOD AND FIRE!!" 

"Optio," Zenon leaned over to whisper, "That guy's the ritual caster. Same mana signature."

"Makes sense," Tycon nodded. "Well, if we can't stop the summoning, we can at least kill the old fool. Which of you wants him?"

Tanamar rolled his eyes, "I'd do it, but... you know."

He gestured at his recently dislocated arm, careful not to jostle his lover, laying her head on his shoulder. 

From his words, it seemed that the young man was going to hold a grudge over the sun's events. The thought did not bother Tycon, at all. 

Korr raised her hand... using mana to empower the movement. 

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "If this is about dinner, young lady, the answer is yes. I'll make whatever you'd like if we can manage the ingredients." 

That was provided they both survive... but Tycon' didn't think that needed mention. 

Korr put her hand back down... but then pointed towards Zenon. 

"Centurion Zenon Skyreaper," Tycon smiled. "Would you do the honors?"

Zenon placed his dark helmet back on, "[My hatred will make the mountains bleed.]"

"...Don't do that," Tycon frowned. 

"Hah... hahah.... Hahaha!!!" Antonidus was beside himself, cackling like a madman, "I was granted gifts FAR beyond your imagination, Church dog! Taaaake THISSS!!!!"

The wrinkled old man, filthy from fire and dust, directed his palms forward, gathering his mana. 

Boxtholomaeus nudged at Tycon's leg, "Sir... sir... perhaps we should all attack him together?"

"For tactical purposes, I agree with you, young mimic," Tycon nodded. "However, I'll ask you to have faith in our stalwart, vertically-advantaged companion."

Antonidus began to glow with power as he shouted in a shrill voice, "With the powers bestowed upon me... by the DRAGON GOD, HIMSELF!!! Suffer my WRATH!!!! ⌈PEEEEAAAAK IRONNNNN FIREBAAAAALLLLLLL⌋"

"Peak Iron?" Tanamar furrowed his brows. 

Tycon pursed his lips, "That... is what he said."

Boxtholomaeus looked at his tiny wooden feet, "Oh."

Korr had crossed her arms and was tilting her head. 

Head Magistrate Antonidus' ⌈Fireball⌋ washed harmlessly over Zenon's Arcanite armor. 

Zenon reached his open hand forward and made a fist. 

Antonidus' throat visibly collapsed inward. 

He reached to grasp at his throat-- a useless affectation, considering. 

The ⌈Fireball⌋ activated from his palms, engulfing his neck and above in a quick blast of magical flame. 

The old man tumbled down the steps, leaving blood and crisped bits of skin on the white stones. 

While most everyone looked on in horror, Tycon walked over and looted the Amulet of Obscuration[1] off of the corpse's neck.

He'd always wanted one, and the Head Magistrate no longer needed his. 

...

Creatures began to spill out of the rift in the sky... several dozens of them. They flew on a variable number of wings and they wielded weapons of war. Some glowed blindingly radiant, with beauteous white-marble skin and sets of golden armor. Some were hideous and a terror to look at, their mass an amalgamation of limbs, many-pointed metallic rings, and fiery eyes. 

"By... the... Flame," Zenon cursed. "What in the seven hells are those?"

Tycon sighed in frustration, "They're from the eleven heavens, actually. Athanasius, please explain."

The Holy Lancer looked up, his eyes wide in realization... then he grit his teeth hard... "They're... they're angels."

"A... angels?!" Zenon furrowed his brows, before pointing up again, "That one-- that one's just a bunch of wings! How is that an angel?!"

Tycon shrugged, "It is. 'How' is a moot point. Zenon, use your wind magic to call for our main forces to withdraw."

Zenon frowned, "There's only... a few dozen of them, Optio. Are you sure we can't band together and defeat them? So what if they can fly?" 

A small barrage of arrows was quickly towards their location. Zenon seemed unconcerned. 

"Most of them are hiding their power level," Tycon explained. 

Zenon clenched his fist, "I'm confident in my abilities to sense their true power."

The angel-fired projectiles bounced harmlessly off of Zenon's passive ⌈Wind Barrier⌋. It seemed he had improved his ability to stop attacks without breaking his concentration. 

"Don't," Tycon warned. "Do not underestimate the angels, Brother-Zenon. You might literally die, seeing their true forms. Some of those creatures are peak Adamantine-Rank."

Zenon's mustache drooped, crestfallen, "Then... we can only run? With our Flame-taken tails tucked between our legs?"

"I specifically stated order our *main* forces to withdraw," He turned away from his friend, smiling at a young man who was jogging towards them, "All able combatants of Sol Invictus will remain."

"Hey, guys!" The blue-armored Spear Hero waved. "There's flying baddies in the sky! What do we do?!"

"Good morning, Pale," Tycon nodded. "Athanasius, do you have enough mana to cast your flight spell on our young friend?"

Tanamar twisted his lips with uncertainty, "I do... but... it won't work. I can only cast ⌈Aspect of the Winged Seraphim⌋ on myself."

"Humor me, if you would, little brother," Tycon smiled politely... "Just try it."

Baring his teeth, Tanamar nodded and did as Tycon asked.

The boy sprouted wings of light. 

Everyone seemed to be surprised, save Tycon and Korr. 

"I owe you one, Tanamar!" Pale grinned, rendering a clean salute. The young boy then crouched down and leapt skyward with a heavy flap of his glowing wings. 

Tanamar was still unconvinced... "Isn't the kid a spear user, similar to me? Can he shoot spear-arrows too?"

Tycon gestured to the sky, "Something like that."

The winged Pale pointed an empty palm towards one of the angels in flight, "⌈MAXIMUS!!!!⌋"

Magical lightning arced from his hand to the winged fellow. The angel squawked similar to an oversized chicken and immediately began plummeting towards the ground. 

The skill activation was easily heard... unmistakable, despite the distance, such was its power. 

Tanamar stared in disbelief, "He... did he just... Pale just..."

Ignoring him, Tycon turned to Zenon, "The withdrawal order."

"Right away, Optio," Zenon began to channel his mana, to empower his voice. 

Tycon turned to Korr, "Defend our forces as we withdraw."

"[I HEAR YOU, LEADER!]" She shouted as she bolted off, her metal boots leaving a fiery trail. 

Tycon then turned to Tanamar, "Wake Athena."

A still-groggy Athena opened her eyes, "I'm... I'm awake."

She slowly got to her feet, her worried footman carefully supporting her. 

Athena smiled warmly... "Sir Tycon... I... I dreamed of my brother, just now... Haha... can you believe it?"