Two lightning bolts struck another group of crusaders with a bright flash, throwing them back against the walls and rendering them unconscious. The ensuing icing instantly froze the group of attackers into blocks of ice. Due to their incomprehensible regeneration, they were constantly regaining consciousness. Luckily, Dulio was head and shoulders above any attackers.
Barakiel turned away with a shake of his head and covered his eyes, trying to regain his escaped strength.
For the almost eternally living angels, the years merge into one brief moment. A flash of events that runs through their entire lives. Friends, family and acquaintances, even enemies, sooner or later become a mere footnote in their long lives. Here was the fallen one who didn't realize when it was a new time. An era of new legends and other orders. For example, a thousand years ago, he could not imagine that he would be in the same room with the highest ranks of the Church and will defend them with all his might, hoping for the prowess of an incredibly young, even by the standards of people, a demon.
When did this wheel of history come to the point where new faces come to the new pedestal of the world? Alliances and animosities, as old as the world itself, are being rethought and rewritten... Incomprehensible.
It's at times like these that he feels incredibly old. When you realize, with a flash of horror, that it's not the world that's wrong, it's you who can't keep up. Is that what Azazel was so eager to promote this alliance for? Maybe at one point his old friend realized that he couldn't keep up with the changes, in which case he would at least strengthen the rear? Another mystery that has become obscenely numerous in recent years.
Papa, a very old man in an ornate cassock, turned anxiously to Dulio, their main strike force. Here, by the way, was another sign of his failure as one of Grigori's leaders. It seemed like just yesterday he'd seen an upstart priest trumpeting God's commandments from every crevice, but now he was an elderly man, the most respected in their church structure. Times, times.
«Dulio...
«Yes, Your Holiness? - The young exorcist turned to the Pope with all his attention.
«That young... demon," Papa corrected his address, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. - Can he handle Vasco...?
«I... - Dulio anxiously looked in an unknown direction from where loud explosions could be heard. Echoes of the battle that had begun between Emeric and Vasco Strada. - I will pray for my new friend, Your Holiness...
«Amen," the Pope seconded him.
An unheard of situation. A top church official praying for the well-being of a noble demon. Another sign that he's aged.
Emeric Gremory. The most insufferable demon of the new generations. King of his Akeno and her... boyfriend, you might say. Barakiel was initially very suspicious of this upstart, and he would never have put his daughter in the demon's retinue, but Azazel assured him it would be alright. Despite the many laxities in his behavior, Barakiel had always trusted his leader, the one who had pulled them all out of deep ass many times on pure intuition. And after they got to know each other, he constantly praised the king to his daughter. Witty, strong, penetrating... A lot of epithets that are actually pretty easy to get from Azazel, but well-hidden admiration? That was a feeling the Grigori leader had a hard time summoning.
After listening to all this verbiage, Barakiel himself decided to finally look at Emeric up close. Barakiel was not able to read his interlocutor during the short conversation, but the beginnings of sympathy were already beginning to form in his mind. The one had even promised to help him in establishing a relationship with Akeno.... And now this young demon had gone solo on possibly the strongest exorcist in history. And it's all for their well-being...
Barakiel caught everyone's attention by stepping forward. He had finally gathered the resolve for this act.....
«I'll help him.
«You... - Dulio turned to him in surprise. - But you could not recover your strength!.....
«I don't care," he threw over his shoulder, clenching his fists. - You stay here until Emeric and I turn off the defenses....
«Mr. Barakiel," the Pope addressed him. - In your condition, you can't help! Vasco Strada is the most dangerous man in the world...!
Pictures from the past came to Barakiel's mind. A half-destroyed Japanese house, a cracked defense, and a daughter's gaze full of accusation. He hadn't made it then, and had lost her trust forever. What would happen if he was saved and Emeric, her love, was not? It would come out that the two favorite people in her life would die because of his indirect involvement. Barakiel was not naive enough to assume that there would be even the slightest chance of reconciliation after such a thing. Barakiel himself would commit suicide after such an embarrassment.....
«That's why," Barakiel spread all ten of his wings. - I have to be there!....
They spent anxious glances at the fallen man, who was summoning consecrated lightning bolts and spears as he walked.
Papa considered the situation this way and that and turned to them all with determination:
«We can't stay away...
«But Your Holiness...!
«No," Dad shook his head in denial. - No buts! I'll be honest, up to this point this whole alliance had scratched my soul unpleasantly, too, but after that young demon's outburst and Barakiel's behavior... - Old, frail hands clenched into fists. - I realized that we could unite and prosper! Emeric Gremory and Barakiel are risking their lives to give us a chance! Dulio, lead us forward!...!
All he got in response was a look of determination.
«Yes, Your Holiness!
*****
Emeric stared dazedly at the stump that remained after the clean cut of his opponent. Not the pain of losing a limb, but the very fact that he had been maimed so easily could not release his mind from the abyss of shock. Never in his life had he lost so much in a single battle.....
My own powerlessness made me want to bite off another limb!.....
«Hmmm... - Vasco Strada sighed in relief at Theodore's well-being. Only a few drops of blood from Emeric's wound stained his robes. The famous exorcist turned in his direction, twirling his sword in his hands. And that one was not even stained with his blood, so skillfully had the cut been made. - I'll be honest, young man, you almost outsmarted me...
«Fuck you!" - Holding onto the bloody stump, Emeric hissed angrily, getting to his feet and unleashing the demonic power within him. The wound had begun to heal, but the arm would not return in this fight.
«Huh," Vasco grinned. - Is that all you can tell me...?
«Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! - His voice grew more and more intense with each address. The brief encounter and injury had left nothing of his usual calm. Only anger and a desire to get even.
«Brood, I'll point out your obvious mistake....
The rays from the power of destruction reflected powerlessly off Durandal's surface. He even somehow boredly twirled it between his hands, redirecting all the demonic power. The reflected rays left considerable craters that vaporized the debris rather than scattering it. Actually, Durandal shouldn't have been able to block so easily, much less reflect a force of destruction of such incredible concentration, but Vasco Strada didn't care about such things as common sense. In his hands a stick would fire, his will was so bent on reality.
One moment he was on the spot reflecting the beams, but the next he disappeared to be right beside him with prohibitive speed. His fist slammed into Emeric's single arm, which he was trying with all his might to plug the holes in his defenses. Not successfully, as his carcass slammed into the wall a second later, and his only arm sustained numerous fractures.
«Never lose your temper!
Emeric spat blood from his mouth with anger.
«Shit! - With a trembling hand, he pulled out the Royal Figure from his spatial pocket. - There's nothing left!....
... It's almost impossible to survive after using the Royal Shape. Wisdom hasn't fully recovered...
I don't care! He's being humiliated by a century-old mountain of muscle! There are almost no options left!....
... It's almost impossible to survive after using the Royal Shape. Wisdom hasn't fully recovered...
Emeric ignored Wisdom, who was trying to stop him from using the boost on himself with alarms. Like a fire alarm it tried with all its might to reach his mind, but Emeric didn't care.... Anger and resentment overwhelmed his being. A severed arm and a victory ripped from his teeth couldn't let go of his mind...
The hand with the red figure almost reached his chest, but suddenly....
A black snake encircled his limb, preventing him from moving a millimeter.
Emeric stared at his own body in bewilderment, which was being taken in an unstoppable embrace from all sides. Black snakes with violet eyes did not let him move an inch. The surrounding paintings seemed to lose their color, and Vasco and the few flashes of fire were frozen in time.
A woman's whisper sounded right next to his ear.
«You've never been good at losing or admitting your own wrongness..... Hee-hee.
In the next instant he fell straight through the floor, only to find himself immediately in an unknown place. A featureless room with only one chair present, with a little girl sitting on it. A black lace dress with some inserts of purple. Her gaze was blank and thoughtless, like a doll's.
If Emeric were a little less informed, he would have thought he was crazy from defeat, so out of place was this girl in this situation. But Emeric had picked up on all the rumors about the supernatural, so he knew immediately that the girl across from him was....
«Office," Emeric guessed. - The Dragon God of Infinity...
The girl replied in a faceless tone.
«That's right.
But there was something wrong about her... A kind of fog that disappears when you pay close attention. Like a mirage on the edge of consciousness.
Using Wisdom, he realized that the picture of the little girl was only an illusion. A fog he could see through.
When his gift allowed him to see the whole picture, Emeric thought he'd gone completely off the rails. Or Vasco had already killed him, and all he could see was his deathbed delirium.
A young beautiful girl, with a bindi on her forehead and dressed in an Indian garb. Who, unlike her younger mirage, looked at him with a cheerful smile and expectation in her gaze, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.
«А... - From shock, he wasn't immediately able to voice his guess, but he still pulled himself together. Admittedly, it didn't get rid of the numerous little jaw-dropping Emericks in his head. - Amiyah...
The cheerful smile became even more beautiful.
«This is also true...
***
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