This Christmas was destined to be anything but peaceful for New York's citizens. Though they couldn't see the invisible entities wreaking havoc across the city, the destruction caused by the angels was very real. Of the three fighter jets from the "Platinum Star" stunt squad, two had been hijacked by the angels. With no other choice, the panicked pilots ejected from their cockpits, leaving their jets to plunge uncontrollably toward Manhattan.
Bayonetta pinched the gray fur trim of her outfit in disgust.
She had used "a little" too much force when kicking away one of the jets, and some black engine oil had inevitably splattered onto her pristine white gown. It was the dress she had chosen for the Christmas party—expensive, elegant, and very easily stained. She had even hoped it would be violently torn off later that night. But then she remembered how, just last night, Solomon had described her performance in bed as "a broken showerhead," which had infuriated her to the point of clawing at him like a furious housecat. That still didn't feel like enough—she decided that the little boy she'd trained from childhood needed a more vivid lesson.
"Follow me," she told the Sisterhood. Catherine and her team had managed to harm angels from the shallow Aether using real-world weapons—already an astonishing feat. Even more incredible was that Catherine's shout had somehow forced the angels to reveal themselves in the material plane. That should've been impossible for an artificial being with virtually no spellcasting ability. But there was no time to ponder the reason; their priority was to eliminate these grotesque spirits flying across the sky.
"If we don't handle this, tonight's Christmas party is canceled—and you won't get to see your Sovereign."
On the balcony of the New York Sanctum, Solomon stood with arcane light shimmering in his eyes. Beside him, Wanda mirrored his expression—they were both tracking the angels' positions. The fighter jet that had gone rogue earlier had now been brought under control. In front of Solomon, a scrying mirror displayed the witches' graceful battle maneuvers in the shallow Aether—Bayonetta and Jeanne each stood atop a different plane, using their power to steer the jets away from the city. Angels continued to harass them, but none were a match for the witches. Unlike their confident performance, the Sisterhood was having a much harder time. Their jetpacks weren't fast enough to catch up with the planes, so their task was to eliminate stray angels.
The Sisterhood's battle squads were also the only entities visible to ordinary people.
Catherine was already in a frenzy of combat, and Solomon didn't see the need to stop her.
He extended a finger into the water mirror, rippling its surface. The mirror shattered into countless panes, each showing a different detail of the ongoing battles. Wanda was visibly impressed by her teacher's mastery of scrying magic. "Kamar-Taj had been lulled into complacency by the apparent calm between the upper and lower planes. Now the sorcerers are searching the Cauldron of the Cosmos for time fragments of the past and future to determine whether this is simply a soul-sea tide or a sign of higher interference," he said. "But regardless, those creatures are not allowed to meddle in the real world."
"Don't we need to help them?" Wanda asked.
"Not yet. These are only lower-tier angels—Bayonetta and Jeanne can handle them," Solomon said. "But that doesn't mean we don't need to prepare. If mid- or upper-tier angels appear, we'll move out. Once the angels are dealt with, Kamar-Taj will assemble a task force to investigate. According to the Sanctum's guardian, the Ancient One wants me to lead the mission."
Wanda got the feeling Solomon was hinting that he wanted her on the team. "Have you faced angels before?" she asked. "If angels exist, doesn't that mean God is real?"
"Yes, but I was under fifteen at the time. Most of the trouble was handled by the witches and the Ancient One—I just monitored the witches to make sure they fulfilled their roles." Solomon withdrew his finger from the water basin and made a few circles in the air. Two steaming ceramic mugs rose up out of thin air. "You can read up on Kamar-Taj's research on gods. You'll learn how the Order views so-called deities. Gods aren't nobler than humans—only the weak kneel to hollow power and authority. Don't say things like that again, Wanda. I don't want a coward for a student. Constantine, my armor and sword. And bring Wanda her powered armor."
"Yes, my Lord," Constantine's voice came through a tablet near the water mirror. "The dwarves have repaired your armor. Master Malbus has also upgraded it. The Sisterhood is ready to assist you in donning it. As for Miss Maximoff, I've prepared a standard Sisterhood force-feedback powered suit. Miss Maximoff, do you require a weapon?"
Wanda looked at Solomon in confusion, but her teacher offered no explanation and answered for her. "Give her a plasma pistol and the snakebone staff—the one with the spikes, don't mess it up. Vishanti artifacts aren't suited for her." He turned to Wanda. "You still have time to learn how to use the staff. It makes a decent melee weapon when necessary."
Before Wanda could ask what "learning to use the staff" meant, Constantine interrupted, "There's one more thing. Miss Stephanie has also received the report. She asks whether we should deploy strategic weapons—her exact words were, 'Might as well use those hydrogen bombs before they expire. The maintenance costs are insane.' What should I tell her, my Lord?"
"Then arm the nukes. If they're needed, use them," Solomon waved his hand impatiently. "Hell, how many nuclear weapons do we even have?"
"Since Master Malbus joined us, Immortal City has been producing weapons under your long-term military preparedness directive. We now have over one hundred tactical nukes and more than twenty strategic ones. That includes twenty red mercury bunker-busters, two neutron bombs, and five intercontinental hydrogen bombs..."
"Enough, enough," Solomon cut him off. No wonder Stephanie complained about the cost of upkeep. He could access this data anytime; all he needed to know was that the stockpile was sufficient. He was waiting for Malbus to finish integrating Wakandan and alien tech so that Immortal City could manufacture its own weapons. Otherwise, they'd face the same software setbacks that once doomed Hammer Industries, no matter how powerful their hardware.
Wanda suddenly pointed into the distance with a gasp.
Solomon followed her gaze and immediately felt a cold fury rise in his chest. Even ordinary citizens could see the massive hole torn into the side of a residential building, with dust and debris spreading outward like an explosion.
"Constantine, make the arrangements. Use the portal room to transport us to the New York Sanctum. Instruct the Sisterhood to prepare for combat—the Sanctum will send them into the shallow Aether."
Bayonetta leapt through the fiery explosion of a downed fighter jet. To her, time seemed frozen—Witch Time heightened her senses and speed, turning every moment into a stretched-out tape. She finally landed atop a subway car crossing the Williamsburg Bridge, standing on the rear carriage as more and more angels began to converge.
Mid-tier angels, previously rare, now appeared frequently. The witches could still manage—for now. But then, a magnificent serpent-like angel adorned with gold ornaments appeared in the sky.
It was then that Bayonetta and Jeanne grew serious.
If they wanted to keep the fight from spilling further into the civilian world, they'd have to take some dangerous risks.
(End of Chapter)
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