The Prismatic Angel kept his focus, seeing the blades come down whenever Wyvios demanded. Zazel would fly himself across, sharpening his appendages, letting some parts of himself fracture so he could add on those points. His body was able to freely change in a humanoid state to a living shuriken, flying across the entirety of the Omega's Circle, a brisk light that came across each kingdom. As the Morningstar kept throwing such arcs of fire, hoping to swat out the pesky creature, Zazel would try to catch said flames and recoil it back, using the momentum to snag and return them back to sender. Each hit by such flames would crack and fracture his body again and again, the damage being too much for the body to properly handle. Such damage, however, was not what was worrying him. Rather, its the inability to properly stop it without having to sacrifice pieces of itself, eventually running out and being a mere head of flames, a visible weak point he'd no doubt exploit. His mind tries to trail back to the Sigils, seeing if he can cast one of them to act under his aid.
As expected, however, such markings were proven to be difficult as well, as they'd rather not be summoned out or utilized under an Angel. He'd try, instead, to make the sigils manually, using the broken shards to float over and create such markings to act as a shield against the King. When he did so, he noticed that it was glowing a different color, assuming it came from his new crystalline anatomy. Rather, it was changing in its own way, forming around to be a new marking, one depicting a cross and closed hands around the base, a prayer forming underneath the light. Faith. Curiouser still, he'd try to unleash such a new marking onto Wyvios, watching it fly freely across the sky like a frisbee, quickly shattering as soon as it got close, before turning into flames that quickly engulf around and burn his shoulder. Such burns dug deep in him, and as the hands rose up to put it out, it merely swallowed around and singed all the same. A fire that cannot be put out, a weaponized baptism. He was amazed to see it adapt around and burn his body further, watching as the mouths began to wince and panic, evidence that it was working. He'd break himself apart again and again, chucking sigil after sigil, reducing himself to a mere set of shards floating around, as the ball of fire quickly closed in and took advantage of such shock.
What Zazel doesn't know, however, was that it was doing more than mere burns. Because of his weakpoint being his very soul buried within the contract, the flames that were engulfing around were closing in, burning that very page in the process. His frantic moves and constant methods of cutting his flesh to get away from the flames were blatant at how much it was reaching for his soul. If such a soul burned away, Wyvios knew it would be both the end of his life, as well as the end of such a magnificent form. As he'd step back and stumble into the hole, his energy slowly siphoning out with such bludgeons, he'd try to see if he can rain down such fire into Applin's side, taking advantage of her limited movement in order to guarantee her death at the hands of such holy fire. As he does so, however, Applin was waiting out on Fenrir to come back, watching as her father traversed such difficult lands and scoop her by his teeth, being careful not to bite into her own daughter. The two made quick work of avoiding the rainstorm of embers, taking every wide opening they see to escape. It was getting difficult for her to wield her hammer, her heart struggling to keep up, her breath hitching at every instance. The smoke and smog were clogging her lungs up as well, forcing her to bury her face in her father's furry body to stave off the stench, closing her eyes so she could not focus on what's around her.
A mocking laugh can be heard from Wyvios' ears, one that made him act almost instantly, opening his mouth and spitting down such daggers, letting them swing and carry the embers so the flames spread further, utilizing Zazel's own magic against his allies. Even as he was being downed, his methods of finding opportunities to exploit are second to none. It wasn't long until Fenrir was forced to open his mouth and eat away at the magic, creating crackles of lightning in his maw, a discharge that blasted him out of the radius further. A perfect shot for the King as he spat another dagger, hitting the wolf dead-on in his side, his stomach nearly shot through. The dog whined and whimpered, yet it still pushed on, even as tears began to come down when his sensitive skin was pierced through. Such whimpers made the Vampiress open her eyes almost instantly, darting them towards the Angel that was currently pulling the shards back so he can reform his body and confront the Morningstar directly. Shadows were being made, quickly jumping into one based on her knowledge regarding Solomon. Effortlessly, she sunk in it, letting her trail through the darkness and scale up towards the Shadow Strength, the latter closing in and aiming for a strike at his chest to pierce through and reach his heart.
His contract.
Wyvios was being cornered again, even with such unmatched power at his side. Another effigy of Xibal was closing in, an idea wafting around in his mind as he'd let his blades carry the flame over, clashing it directly with the incoming monster. If what he believed was misfortune incarnate, perhaps he can recreate such a fateful event, the beast's build being his blueprint to brutalize his benign backstabbers. A clock was formed by such holy fire, slowly swarming around and ticking slowly, a sundial before the rebellion.
He was aiming to bring back the tragedy of Calibren for some proper leverage.