The angel couldn't believe it. She lay there panting, dazed, her glorious blade of light dulled and shattered at her side—defeated not by a trick or by fate, but by raw, brutal strength. The kind that didn't obey sermons or prophecy. The shock hit her like a physical blow.
It felt impossible. She had been sure—sure—that she had him. All the calculations, the maneuvers, the divine certainty: gone. The Child of Anti-Prophecy, whom she had thought a brittle puppet in her hands, had turned into something else entirely. Confidence evaporated into cold, sharp disbelief.
"What changed…?" she tried to think between ragged breaths, every word small against the pounding in her ears. The ground beneath her still trembled from the force that had thrown her. "What in tarnation happened for him to get this strong? No… it's not just him. They're all different—stronger. When did this happen?" Her mind raced, fumbling for a thread.
