Chapter Forty-One

Aeron's breath went ragged as he ran wildly through the final stretch of forest. His arms—which were dangling loosely by his hips—were covered in scratches and dried mud. His holster had been haphazardly strewn across his shoulder, with Zia's pistol resting inside. When a loud explosion shook the woods, he turned back to the source of the fiery inferno and smiled. "Good," he thought. "She's finally figured out how to make explosives." For an untrained person like Zia, accomplishing such a feat in such a short amount of time was simply incredible. In just a few short minutes, she acquired abilities that took him hours to learn. "Hmph, if she undergoes basic training, that girl might become a monster." All she needed was a little push. With each impact, the ground shook like he was in the middle of a violent earthquake. Not wanting to waste a moment, Aeron gritted his teeth and pushed through the last couple of trees.

"Did you see where that Angel went?" he heard one of the creatures say from further inside the forest. Even though Zia was distracting the leading group, a few had managed to slip through. At their current pace, it wouldn't be long before they caught up to him.

"I've got to be fast," he thought as he finally arrived at the infamous dig site. A moderately-sized river was sat on the farthest border of the area, its sparkling water dazzling brilliantly in the sunlight. Small plots of ground had been marked and excavated, with equally tiny piles of dirt littering the field. A few had a couple of weeds growing on top of them, their roots jutting haphazardly out of the mud. On the far end of the site—resting atop one of the more giant mounds—was what looked like a long metal handle. Since it was covered in grime and dust, he couldn't tell what exactly it was. That said, he instantly knew that it was foreign to the mortal realm. It was the artifact's smell that tipped him off to this. The slightly tangy yet salty stench reminded him of the ocean. But there was something else… something oddly familiar about it that piqued his curiosity.

"Hey, guys! Over here! I found footprints!" Aeron heard a member of the horde say as they drew ever closer. It was only a matter of time before they found him. Clicking his teeth in frustration, he tried again to move his arms. He got his biceps to twitch this time, but that was all he could accomplish. The venom that had been injected into his muscles burned like boiling water as it coursed through his veins, every second bringing him a new spectrum of pain.

"My immune system must be trying to combat the toxin," he thought as he shakily walked up to the strange metal object. At this point, the color had drained from his cheeks, and his sight was starting to fail. For—even though he was technically getting better—the unbelievable amount of energy his body was expending just to keep him awake was beginning to take its toll. If this kept up, it wouldn't be long before he'd collapse from exhaustion. "I'm going to have to make this quick," he whispered to himself as he grit his teeth and started to dig. As he slowly chipped away at the object's muddy prison, he frowned and narrowed his eyes. "This is no doubt the treasure we heard about," he thought, "but… it isn't the Scale." All he needed to tell him that much was the turquoise steel that completely covered the artifact's body. According to the Minister, the Scale was crafted using solid gold. This wasn't—it was something else entirely. However—even though what he found wasn't what they were looking for—Aeron couldn't help but feel like he'd discovered something important. Otherwise, why would those creatures be trying so hard to stop them from finding it? "So, if this isn't the Scale, what in God's name is it?" he thought as he continued to dig, but, just as he was about to free the device from its dirty confines, one of the monsters—presumably a scout—sprung out of the trees. "Shit!" Aeron cursed as he dived behind a mound of dirt, careful not to make any noise.

"Hmm?" the creature snarled, its tentacles twitching every which way as it walked deeper into the dig site. "I could've sworn I saw that Cherub come in here." Aeron let out a breath in relief. These fiends may have been strong and fast, but they weren't very bright. After that, the beast started to comb the area, eventually walking up to the knoll he was hiding behind. "That's…the lord's trident," the monster mumbled—its voice so faint that he had to strain to hear its words.

"Trident?" he whispered to himself. "Why the hell would something like that be here?" If what those archaeologists found wasn't the Scale, then what was causing all these strange abnormalities? "Whatever it is, it has to have some form of magical aura attached to it." Sadly, without his gavel, he could only inspect the weapon via physical contact. For that to happen, he needed to get rid of this annoyance. As quiet as a mouse, Aeron lifted a small pebble off the ground with his right foot. When the beast's head was turned, he sprang into action and kicked the stone into the river. The tiny water droplets created by the splash were picked up by the wind, scattering them across the clearing like soft morning dew. The creature, of course, took the bait and turned around, its tentacles flailing wildly through the air.

"I heard you, fool! Come on out!" it hissed in its gargled tone as it shambled towards the bank, the crunch of weeds and dead leaves under its feet getting closer with every passing moment. Eventually, it shuffled right past the mound he hid behind and crouched down to investigate the river. "If you're in this stream, there's no place that an aquatic being like myself can't find you," it said in a strangely smug voice. As the monster spoke, its tentacles spiraled down from its head and into the water. The second the fleshy tendrils touched the river's surface, smaller white hairs shot out of them like some sort of twisted spider web. With every twitch, small waves bounced throughout the lake.

"Echolocation?" Aeron mused as he bit his lip. These abominations sure had some valuable abilities. "If they all have access to such a skill, it would explain how they were able to track us so quickly." He had to report the existence of these creatures to the Bureau as soon as possible. "Zia was right. Jeremy would be ecstatic if I brought him a specimen." The thought of one of these things being dissected by that crazy bastard made him chuckle. "Oh well, I'll worry about that after I get out of here." Right now, he needed to take care of the creature standing in front of him. And so—while the monster was busy scanning the lake—he snuck up behind the beast and drove his foot into the back of its neck. The fiend's spine shattered with a satisfying crack, its paralyzed body plummeting face-first into the water. Now that its form was nothing more than dead weight, the beast swiftly sank to the bottom of the river. With that out of the way, Aeron turned around and hurried back to the object resting in the center of the clearing.

After a few more minutes of digging, he finally removed the tool from the filthy trap. The blue handle shone brilliantly in the sunlight, and the three spikes at its top were as sharp as any blade. Even though he couldn't pick the trident up, he instantly knew it could cut through rock like butter. "A weapon fit for a king… or a god," he muttered as his eyebrows narrowed; he recognized this magical polearm. "This is Poseidon's scepter," he thought as he felt his blood run cold. "What is it doing out of Tartarus?" The infamous weapon of one of Hell's fallen Angels was sitting right in front of him, still covered in the same grime as when he first laid eyes on it all that time ago. "Wait… that creature said that this spear belonged to his lord. Could it be that it and Poseidon are connected?" Aeron frowned. Their octopus-like limbs and his dead assailant's words all but confirmed his theory. "So, these things are that false deity's minions? I can't believe it." The idea of a fallen Angel—besides Satan, of course—having an army was simply ridiculous.

As a whirlwind of thoughts raced through his head, the Cherub bit his lip and scowled. Now that he knew that Poseidon had a hand in all of this, that meant that he needed to visit the Demoness. "The only possible way these creatures could've shown up now, of all times, is if Poseidon somehow escaped his cell." He had no idea how a soul could flee Tartarus, but that was the only logical explanation. Plus—when he considered Satan's actions while they were digging through the archives—it was evident that the ruler of Hell didn't know about the fallen Angel's jailbreak. In the worst-case scenario, something as big as this could jeopardize her contract with Yahweh. After all, if she knew what was happening, she wouldn't waste her time messing with them. "Dammit, I have to notify Satan. Otherwise, this could turn into a real headache." If Poseidon managed to get his hands on the Scale… Aeron shuddered at the thought. He couldn't let that happen.

"You four go around and surround her! It's just one woman!" he heard the monsters' leader say as a flurry of green explosions tore through the sky.

"At this rate, it's only a matter of time before she exhausts herself," he thought as he bit his lip. Zia was a mortal. She didn't have his Angelic stamina. If she collapsed before she could get to Elizabeth and Kashif, all of them would be in trouble. However, at that moment, there was nothing he could do.

"Ugh… at least I can move my hand again," he thought. He wasn't in the position to charge forth into battle, not unless he wanted to get captured. "Hell… what do I do?" he muttered as he stared at the sparkling river. Notifying the Bureau was simply impossible at this point, and he had no viable method of contacting Satan. So, for now, he was stuck. "Well, this is just great!" the Cherub yelled out in frustration as he sat down on a rock near the water's edge, Zia's pistol falling to his side. Somehow—within the foreseeable future—he had to get the Devil's attention, or one of her aides, and inform them of what was happening. If Poseidon managed to escape Hell, he would've needed some help. "Poseidon's one of my kin, and, judging by those creatures' actions, he knows about judges." They knew exactly how to immobilize him and had managed to track him and the others across Europe without fail. So—even though he hated to admit it—this wasn't something he could dive into blind. He needed more information. He needed help. "But how am I going to get ahold of Hell?" he thought. "Without a working transmitter, that'll be next to impossible."

Even though he was the Templar, he wasn't omnipotent. To get to Satan's domain, he still had to go through the established routes, which meant that the only ways in were either a portal or damnation—the original express train to God's dumpster. "Since I can't contact Jeremy, that means going in person isn't possible. Unless, of course, I somehow manage to convince Yahweh to damn one of his precious Cherubs." As he mumbled to himself, Aeron's eyes widened, and his voice slowly trailed off until it was little more than a whisper. Without saying a word, he felt his hand brush up against Zia's pistol, causing a proverbial light to turn on in his head. "Damning an Angel… you know what? That could work." If a Cherub committed suicide, their souls didn't go through the typical process. Instead, they were immediately damned and were sent straight to Satan's front door. "If I shoot myself, I could talk to Satan personally and get help." Unless God loved him enough to make an exception, using suicide as a one-way ticket to the afterlife should work. However, it was an unbelievably risky strategy. So much so that he seriously considered that the toxin was messing with his brain. "If I damn myself, that'll mean abandoning Zia." Plus, if something happened and he couldn't get to Satan in time, his efforts would be wasted. He'd most likely end up in a similar position to Poseidon and the rest of the Pantheon—stuck in Tartarus for all eternity. He couldn't afford to take this decision lightly, but, sadly, fate had other plans.

"I can smell the Angel's blood. He's somewhere around here!" Aeron frowned when he heard yet another of Poseidon's lackeys off in the trees. This time the voice was uncomfortably close. The beasts would reach him within the minute. And when they did, it wouldn't matter which option he chose. He'd be stranded with nowhere to run—the end of the line. As he pondered over his agonizing final seconds, he turned his focus back to the forest and noticed an eerily prominent silence. "I can't hear any more explosions. That means that either Zia escaped or got captured." Knowing her, she probably rescued her two guard dogs and bolted. Sadly, he had no way of knowing for sure. The beasts had him trapped like a fox in the middle of a hunt. If he wanted to flee, he had to make a choice now. And he had to do it fast.

"Boss, there's some claw marks in the ground here. I think one of our scouts might've caught up to him," yet another monster said as Aeron heard several twigs crack beneath the creatures' feet.

"I've probably only got twenty seconds before those bastards see me," he thought as he pulled back the pistol's hammer with his right hand. Would he let himself be captured by these things and risk losing everything, or would he take his chances in Hell? Both were terrible options. However, for him, there was only one clear winner. "Let's hope this gamble pays off," he hissed as he narrowed his eyebrows and readied himself. Since he couldn't move his arm, he held the weapon backward—his thumb resting upon the trigger. As he closed his eyes, he heard the foreboding sound of several footsteps running towards him. "If this doesn't work, may God have mercy on your soul, Zia Lombardi." Before the creatures could grab hold, he gritted his teeth and fired. And, just like that, everything went dark.

One hundred years ago...

There aren't many amongst God's flock that I still bother to keep tabs on. As Hell's ruler, I am constantly busy keeping my realm running. However, there is one person that draws my gaze. That person is the Bureau's new templar, Aeron Weber. My diplomats have informed me that he is currently preparing for his next assignment. From what I've heard, it's going to be some dull mission in the mortal realm. Usually, I would've pushed such a boring piece of news aside, but then I started researching. Since he's rarely been to Hell's borders, most of my informants don't have anything on him. But there's this… hunch… I have. After reading up about his rehabilitations and other works, I can't help but notice the traits this man and I share. When I first learned about this, I was shocked. After all, he's an Angel—one of God's Cherubs. I thought he would just be another stick in the mud. Then I realized I was wrong, and that's when things got interesting.