The angels surrounding the boy were all at least mid-tier Seraphim. Their glowing wings and halos lit up the entire fountain square, driving out every last shadow. But despite the blinding display of holiness, the atmosphere was anything but calming. The boy tried to stall with a cheeky remark, but the Sage wasn't interested in listening.
He gave a slight wave of his hand and immediately lunged forward, his golden spear whistling as it cut through the air toward the boy. To everyone's surprise, the boy managed to block the first attack using four cards he threw out. However, the defense spell woven into them proved paper-thin against the Sage's spear, only managing to divert the strike slightly.
Before the boy could recover, the next assault came.
He threw himself to the ground, rolling frantically to avoid being skewered. As he attempted a counterattack with another set of cards, one was casually shattered by a single stroke of a white peacock feather. His eyes widened in shock. Before meeting Bayonetta and Solomon, he had already fought and defeated a number of lower-ranking angels—proof that his cards held real power. But against this white-robed man, his magic was completely ineffective. Worse, his failed offense had opened him up to another brutal strike.
Scrambling and crawling, the boy narrowly evaded the Sage's relentless thrusts. The fountain square's stone tiles shattered beneath the spear's tip, and the gusts it stirred sliced his skin and drew blood. The angels still hadn't moved, simply watching, as if witnessing a public execution.
His life was hanging by a thread—he couldn't withstand another attack.
Just as the golden spear tip was about to pierce the boy's eye, a thunderous noise and blinding white light exploded across the fountain square. Both the Sage and the boy reflexively shut their eyes to protect their senses from being overwhelmed. But even with their eyes closed, the brilliance left searing afterimages on their retinas. The boy could see nothing. He could hear nothing.
Suddenly, he felt a blast of intense heat erupt beside him, followed by the screech of metal grinding and clashing. Scalding, viscous liquid with a faint scent of rosemary poured down like a rainstorm. The scent of ionized air filled his nostrils.
"What kind of grown man bullies a kid?" Bayonetta's voice rang out, amused, from a nearby rooftop as she adjusted her glasses. The boy felt himself being yanked into the air. The cold wind on his face jolted him out of his daze. Once he regained his senses, he screamed in terror—he was now on the rooftop, feet dangling, being held up by Bayonetta gripping his collar. Beneath the witch's heels lay the bloodied corpses of angels, slowly dissolving into golden motes of light.
He struggled instantly. "I'm not a kid!"
"If you say so, little one." Bayonetta smirked and dropped him onto the rooftop. Her gaze returned to the chaos below. Solomon, clad in golden armor, was locked in combat with the white-robed Sage. Their weapons clashed at speeds the naked eye couldn't follow, the shriek of steel on steel shaking the roof tiles of nearby buildings.
"Who the hell is that guy?" the boy grumbled, rubbing his sore backside. "How can he summon those freaks?"
"A Sage. As far as I know, the last one should've been dead," Bayonetta replied, casually resting her finger on the trigger and raising her guard. Though her expression remained relaxed, she was fully alert. "Weren't you supposed to be the powerful one, little brat? Aren't those freaks your minions?"
"Shut up! I was caught off guard!" The boy sprang to his feet. "I don't know why they're saying that stuff—it has nothing to do with me!"
"Is that so?" Bayonetta chuckled and fired a shot off to the side. More angels were pouring in, and she still had her own fight to deal with. "Let's see what you've really got, little one."
Their surveillance had gone smoothly at first. Both Bayonetta and Solomon had heard the angels call the boy "Lord," and while they didn't understand why, Solomon could deduce that whoever controlled the angels feared this so-called "Loki" approaching Fimbulventr. In the boy's memories, Solomon had seen him fighting angels—but had worried it might be a trap, a staged memory planted to deceive them. There were countless historical cases of manipulated memories leading to disastrous decisions. Solomon had studied many such tragedies.
But the arrival of the Sage changed everything.
The last known Sage was Bayonetta's father, Balder—whom she had personally slain. Solomon was absolutely certain of this. The records in the Kamar-Taj library confirmed that Balder, bearer of one of the Eyes of the World, had perished and could never be resurrected. Recognizing the attacker as a Sage, Solomon had immediately activated a teleportation spell, bringing both himself and Bayonetta into the battle.
He took on the Sage, while the witch dealt with the angels. Their teamwork was impeccable.
"Unregistered spellcaster!" Solomon declared as their weapons clashed. "By the authority of Kamar-Taj and the Sorcerer Supreme, you are under arrest! Resist, and you die!" As sword and spear met, Solomon triggered the grenade launcher hidden beneath his bracer. A large-caliber round roared forth in a trail of fire, hurtling toward the Sage.
Witches and Sages drew their powers from the same source: magic derived from the Eyes of the World. Thus, every witch spell had a Sage counterpart.
Bayonetta had Witch Time; Sages had Light Speed.
Solomon could now confirm that to be true—after all, why else would his grenade have exploded in the Sage's hand?
Seizing the opening, Solomon activated his jet boosters and drove his armored leg into the Sage, sending him flying.
"Mass-sensitive fuse," he muttered. The explosion left the Sage's hand dripping blood, but did no further damage—the gloves he wore were tougher than most vehicle armor. Solomon noted that both the robe and the barrier spells on him emitted intensely bright magical auras.
Though he hadn't yet identified the spells' effects, nor had time to develop a countermeasure, he knew one thing: holy sword trumps all. The once-immaculate gilded spear was now covered in deep gashes. Few weapons in the world could match the holy sword—this one certainly wasn't among them.
"From what I understand, the Sage clan wielded advanced magical technology. How are you unaware of that?" Solomon leveled the sword at him. "Last I checked, Kamar-Taj had wiped your bloodline off the face of the earth. So where'd you come from? Or are you some freshly brewed Sage?"
"Who are you?" The Sage's voice was low. "What's your relationship with the witch?"
"She's my girlfriend. Too bad you won't make it to the engagement party, seeing as you'll be dead soon." Solomon grinned. "I'm a magus of Kamar-Taj. What do you think?"
Solomon sensed the Sage's eyes narrowing behind the mask, clearly displeased by the answer. In response, the Sage silently pulled out three luxurious white peacock feathers and tossed them into the air. With a single incantation, a golden portal burst open—and through it emerged a massive Quadrangle Seraph: the twin-headed dragon of fire, Fortitude.
"Now that's just excessive," Solomon groaned. "Alright then... looks like I need to call in some backup."
(End of Chapter)
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