The masked Sage's eyes tracked the magus, frozen like amber, vanish in a flash of teleportation. A searing blade descended from above at inhuman speed, grazing the Sage's golden mask and carving a deep gouge into the bloodstained stone tiles of the plaza.
Yet the Sage wasn't surprised. As he dodged the attack, he raised his leg and kicked Solomon's shoulder armor, then deftly evaded the retaliatory swing of the shield, redirecting it with a precise strike of his spear shaft.
Solomon clearly heard the servos in his power armor wail in protest. A sharp pop burst from his elbow joint, and his retinal HUD flickered with flashing red error codes. He realized the Radiant Lightflow spell had ended—Sage's movements had returned to normal speed. Without hesitation, he fired up his jet thrusters. Precision-engineered turbines roared like thunder, spewing heat as the magus surged forward like a battering ram, shield raised. The crimson cloak wrapped around his armor flared out like wings of blood, catching the wind in their wake.
The Sage drove the butt of his spear into the ground, angling the shaft to collide with the right edge of the shield. The resulting metal-on-metal screech grated down to the bone, and the sheer force forced Solomon to adjust both shield grip and stance to avoid snapping his armor joints—and his own wrist. Bending his knees and maxing the power on his left thruster, his armored boots dug trenches into the stone as he braced, keeping the shield locked on target.
But the Sage didn't respond with brute force. Instead, he stepped aside with fluid agility, narrowly evading Solomon's upward sword slash from beneath the shield.
Almost no one could dodge such a point-blank strike—it was a trick move. But the Sage wasn't just anyone. Evidently, his counterattack had once again triggered Radiant Lightflow. Solomon saw the Sage vanish before his eyes, and suddenly, blow after blow rained down upon his shield like a hurricane. The clashes were so loud they drowned out even the titanic brawling of Madame Butterfly and the Quadrangle Seraph above. His HUD blinked with relentless pressure warnings, vibranium-steel muscle fibers groaning beneath his armor plates. Scalding air roared from his exhaust vents, distorting the air between the two combatants.
Now he understood why Tony Stark had crammed his armor full of gadgets. Solomon could only wish for an automated turret on his shoulder right now. Still, he wasn't exactly cornered. He had finally seen through the Sage's footwork—just enough.
He lifted his right boot slightly, then engaged the right thruster and spun like a top, smashing his shield sideways. The golden spear, swinging in an arc, flashed with phantom speed. Solomon countered with surgical precision, stabbing his holy sword upward from above the shield and locking the ornate white shaft of the spear in place, trapping the Sage in position.
Unless the Sage let go, the sword could easily pivot and sever his fingers.
What was remarkable was that Solomon had made this move blindly, blocked by the shield. Yet his reaction was perfectly timed, because he had already seen it—in a vision. Even if he couldn't track every motion, he could block most attacks. That was the nightmare of fighting someone who could see the future: you could never tell if your moves had already been anticipated. Close-quarters combat allowed no time to think. It was all reflexes—and reflexes were easy to bait.
The Sage had just been baited into Solomon's trap.
But the masked man clearly had ample experience. Without hesitation, he released the spear with one hand and grabbed it with the other, attacking from a new angle. And he executed that plan instantly.
From the rooftop, the boy who called himself "Loki" watched as two golden blurs streaked with flame tore across the plaza, white streaks swirling around them like a hurricane of winged madness. Gunshots and steel clashing blurred into a continuous roar. The buildings surrounding the plaza suffered wave after wave of destruction. Nearly every wall was cracked or blown apart by the ongoing explosions.
The boy swayed and nearly fell from the roof.
He flailed his arms in protest—but no one noticed.
Solomon took a wide step forward, maintaining pressure with the shield on the spear while rotating to his right. Then, increasing his thruster output, he spun at blinding speed and flung his sword behind him. With the swing, he let out a thunderous roar and spoke a short but potent incantation. A wave of paralyzing numbness surged through the Sage's limbs to his spine. Though he quickly neutralized it with magical resistance and physical conditioning, he had no time left to dodge.
The Sage barely raised a shield spell and used the spear's shaft to intercept the blow. The holy sword, empowered by the stigmata and Solomon's armor, struck like a sledgehammer. The blade sheared through the Sage's geometric gold shoulder ornament and buried halfway into the spear shaft, blasting the masked figure backward.
It all happened in two heartbeats. From the boy's rooftop perspective, it was just a blur of motion and fire. Before he could process it, a deafening boom followed by a blinding white streak rocketed skyward. With a sonic boom, it tore over his head—Solomon's golden spear.
But what was faster than the spear was the Quadrangle Seraph Fortitude. Or more precisely, Fortitude's body—now headless.
Madame Butterfly had seized its dragon tail and spun it like a hammer throw, hurling the angel through the sky over Noahduun. The angel's bulk, dripping with blood, broke the sound barrier. Despite its attempts to spread its broken wings and slow its descent, it hurtled uncontrollably downward.
And along with it went the Sage—and his golden spear.
The boy instinctively ducked, letting the wind rip his hood off. He clung tightly to the eaves, trying not to be shaken off by the impending impact.
It wasn't over.
A second later, Madame Butterfly's clone, formed from the witch's hair, dove like a missile and struck the angel's ruined body dead-on.
The demoness let out a triumphant laugh, whistled, and struck a pose like a victorious wrestler.
"Darling, you really aren't very good at protecting people." Bayonetta hovered down from above, black-purple wings spread behind her, riding the stormclouds. Solomon rolled his eyes and rotated his sore shoulder. Logically, the stigmata should keep his stamina topped off, making fatigue nearly impossible. But in this fight, he genuinely felt tired. He had to constantly watch out for the Sage's inhuman speed—and guard the boy from being targeted.
"At least I didn't wreck half the buildings." As if on cue, a nearby wall riddled with cracks and bullet holes collapsed. Solomon raised an eyebrow—not that anyone could see it. "Wasn't me. I swear it could've held a bit longer."
"Oh, darling," Bayonetta sighed, shaking her head. "I really hope your performance tonight isn't as pathetic as that wall."
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Mutter"]
[Every 50 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]