Capítulo 107: Skirmish I
Malkanthor eyed the mound of salt in front of him. He shook his head and sighed at how traditionalist Jerusha was. Still, it would be terrible if he were to admonish his best Grace wielder in the middle of an important operation.
"Fan out. Take out your weapons. Don't underestimate the enemy." He ordered as he placed his hand upon his chest and took out a gleaming silver weapon.
His Morningstar, a short-poled shaft attached to a cylinder adorned with nine spikes along the length, was a favored weapon of his.
Its creator, a human worshiper, named it after Lucifer which was why he was one of the few angels to ever shape their blades after it, but Malkanthor thought that such a fine weapon being bogged down with such a cruel curmudgeon of a fallen angel was a damn shame.
"Really? Don't you ever get tired of that thing?" Balthazar scoffed as he wielded his silver trident.
"Not until I redeem the weapon from Lucifer's name." He said with finality, nodding towards the other Garrison members. "Let's go."
They entered the range of the Aegis, outwardly extending their angelic energy to prevent any hexes or spells from ever reaching their vessel's body.
The moment they graced their feet upon the obsidian stone, a wave of electrifying energy roused Barchiel into existence. His eyes turned towards the nearest angel.
"Jerusha." Even that one word was said with great difficulty.
"You're a waste of our Father's energy, Barchiel." Jerusha said, earning the captive angel's ire and attention. "To think you would be captured by scums of Hell."
Barchiel did not respond, nor did he need to.
"We'll make this fast." Malkanthor said, motioning for the three other angels whose name Malkanthor did not know nor wish to know.
They rushed forward, speed toppling humanity's fastest vehicles. One of them had a normal Angel's Blade, shaped into a large knife, but the other two had longswords for a weapon.
Although they could barely reach their levels, Malkanthor knew that they were tightly connected to the weave of Heaven. As such, their limited powers were being greatly increased by the angels above.
In fact, that was one of the reasons they decided to destroy the shield as it deflected all forms of energy, even heavenly ones.
The angel with a knife arrived first and went for a downward slash, but a sudden whip of lightning energy hit his form and sent him flying out of the Aegis.
"He's connected to the circle." Hadriel stated the obvious.
The other two angels arrived next, flanking Barchiel to his left and right. The leftmost angel thrust his sword while the rightmost one swung sideways.
Barchiel moved gracefully, fending off the thrust with his golden bracers and bending downwards to evade the horizontal slash. He was like a white swan swimming amidst the chaos of life.
Barchiel counterattacked, smashing his right foot at the leftmost angel's knees and breaking the vessel's legs before striking both bracers in front of the rightmost angel's form. The bracers clanged against each other and released a wave of stored kinetic energy that sent the angel crashing against the obsidian stone.
Barchiel then went back to the leftmost angel and struck him in the face. The angel stumbled back, but Barchiel went ahead and punched him a few more times.
Having beaten the angel bloody, Barchiel took the angel's sword, sauntered to the center of the Aegis, and resumed his post. His eyes rested upon Malkanthor's form.
"He's… pretty strong," Balthazar commented, uselessly.
The rest of the Garrison did not share any words before they rushed in.
Hadriel, whose vessel's face bore a large scar, waved her silver scythe downwards. Her weapon's long reach afforded her the first attack, which was blocked by a convergence of lightning around Barchiel's left forearm.
"Damn these boulders!" She cursed, narrowly avoiding a peal of lightning centered on her chest.
Malkanthor paid no heed to Hadriel's curses, intent on quickly finishing their mission as he dragged his morning-star towards Barchiel's chest. The opposing angel, however, was fast as the lightning coursing through his form as Barchiel parried the morning-star and maneuvered the spiked cylinder block from Balthazar's trident.
"Really?" Balthazar rolled his eyes, pushing his stuck trident towards Malkanthor before giving Barchiel a frontal kick.
The hit struck Barchiel on the shoulder, causing him to stumble back into Jerusha's battle axe. Jerusha smashed the flat side of his weapon against Barchiel's head, cutting up the latter's skin and sending him back into the icy embrace of Balthazar.
"Got you no–What the frick?" Balthazar had a smirk on his face when he caught Barchiel, but, as if responding to its guardian's state, the Aegis glowed with an unnatural light.
"Do it–" Malkanthor tried to order his men, but a storm of lightning erupted out of the Aegis.
Electricity battered their innate physiological defenses into submission, forcing them to waste their Angel's Grace into protecting their vessel's body from being destroyed.
"Hadriel!" Malkanthor roared through the onslaught of lightning, his back emitting a dark shadow that loomed over the Aegis. Within a blink of an eye, he was next to Barchiel and placed his palm on top of the latter's forehead.
He willed forth his Grace and dove past Barchiel's vessel, connecting his heavenly form to that of the latter's. Amidst a storm of chaos and destruction, lay a familiar divine construct that was bound in ethereal chains.
For a brief moment, Malkanthor had nothing to do but stay afloat and gaze at the wonders of the void before three more figures appear in each cardinal direction.
Without as much as a word, they began connecting their Grace into each other and using Barchiel's spirit as the central node to form a magical circle. Hadriel then produced a thumb-sized granular stone and threw it into the center of the circle.
The stone crumbled into dust and formed four sigils that floated in each and every angel's direction. With the circle complete, all they had to do was activate their latent energy, but that was more difficult than it sounded.
The Aegis formed a natural barrier against all forms of magik.
Its very nature resists the hard approach that spells, and ritual circles usually take. Any attempts at controlling energy within the bounds of the stone circle–whether it be in the physical plane or a spiritual one–would find their caster unable to manage how far their energy goes and how much energy they spent.
Even through surreptitious or cloaking magik, the Aegis would sense such methods. It took a long time for the Celestial Scribes, a group of angels that had once been mentored by the Metatron–before he went missing–that researches spells and unique ways to amplify and combine angelic Grace and magik, to find a way to eclipse the natural barrier of such defensive structures.
Malkanthor felt wave after wave of pressure hardening the very nature of this spectral plane, grateful for the granular stone as it reduced the work needed to complete the ritual circle.
As the glow subsided, a circle made of solid light connected the five angels with the center node, Barchiel's heavenly spirit, constantly being disconnected by the infernal chains wrapped around the angel's form.
The Scribes' answer to the problem, however, was fairly simple. The Aegis was first and foremost a stone circle created for spell rituals. Its defensive characteristics were merely a by-product of the synergy between its materials and creation method. As such, the Aegis allows motes of energy to pass through its structure, which it uses to power its defensive measures.
With that in mind, Malkanthor guided their collective energy towards Barchiel, but did so without any form or intent. Merely letting the power drift towards the center and allowing it to grow unabated. It continued on until he saw the white clouds covering Barchiel's form.
The next part was tricky, as the cloud would need to form into a sigil that would dispel the current spell inhabiting Barchiel's true form. Normally, angels would easily use their Grace within their spirit to do so, but the cloud was outside of their normal reach.
Any attempt to control the cloud would be minimal at best. That was why Jerusha was allowed within his Garrison, even though he disapproved of his methods.
Jerusha quickly went to work, dabbling into the cloud and using his monumental willpower to engrave the dispelling sigils with practiced ease. The cloud took the form of hooks, linking itself upon the infernal chains without getting a reaction from the curse.
A wave of pressure was absorbed intuitively by Malkanthor, an innate feature of communication used exclusively by Seraphim.
"In 3…" He deciphered, gaining knowledge that the other two also received the same message.
All at once, the remaining members of the Garrison released their angelic Grace to visibly attack the curse inhabiting Barchiel and provided cover for Jerusha's deft maneuvering as he broke every chain that bound the angel into the hands of Dagon.
Barchiel's true form unleashed a ripple of pent-up celestial energy when the last chain was broken. His visage was like that of the dawning sun enveloping the world with its warmth and light.
Malkanthor was relieved beyond measure. His normally neutral expression bore witness to a cracking grin.
"Welcome back, Brother Barchiel."
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