Chapter 13 – Angel Fire Blade

Colonel Wolf dove in, his blade flashing as he deflected another swipe from the demon's jagged claws, the impact sending him staggering back. The creature snarled and lunged again, and Wolf barely dodged, twisting to shield Matt and Avery, who were caught off guard.

"Could use some cover, fellas!" Wolf shouted, gritting his teeth as he raised his sword again, the steel trembling in his hands.

Matt let out a low whistle, eyes wide. "Well, I didn't ask to be nearly sliced in half today."

Avery nudged him. "Keep it together, hotshot. Colonel's got our backs, but we still need a plan!"

Wolf growled as the demon's claws raked across his arm, slicing through fabric and drawing blood. Despite the fresh wound, he held his stance, swinging back and managing to carve a deep gash in the demon's side. "Someone… wanna jump in here?"

Bastian's eyes flicked to Anastasia, both of them tensed, weighing their options. They had been trying to avoid going full angel-mode, knowing the second they unleashed their powers, any celestial or demonic forces within miles would sense the energy shift.

But Wolf's blood was dripping, Matt and Avery were struggling to stay out of harm's way, and the demon seemed to feed on their exhaustion. Enough was enough.

"Bastian?" Anastasia whispered, her gaze steady, resolute.

He nodded, unfolding his wings, the feathers catching the dim torchlight as they stretched wide, casting a glow over the chamber. Anastasia followed suit, her own wings flaring out, power surging through her veins as they both focused on the demon.

Matt, panting and skirting around the edge of the creature's reach, looked up, blinking in disbelief. "Now that would have been helpful ten minutes ago."

Anastasia shot him a pointed look. "Didn't exactly want a neon 'come find us' sign in the middle of the Vatican."

Bastian smirked, raising his hand as light pulsed between his fingers. "Guess subtlety isn't an option."

He thrust his palm forward, sending a streak of energy straight into the demon's chest. The creature howled, thrashing as Anastasia joined in, her own power lacing through the air and slicing into the demon. It stumbled, claws flailing in wild desperation, until it dropped to its knees, charred and smoldering.

Avery let out a long, shaky breath. "And that is why they're the angels, huh?"

Matt clapped his hands slowly. "Bravo, really. Just, next time, maybe consider the power option first?"

"Noted," Bastian muttered, glancing down at Wolf, whose arm was bleeding heavily, staining the stone floor in dark patches. Anastasia immediately knelt, her hands hovering over the wound, inspecting it.

"We've gotta stop this bleeding," she said, unwrapping a roll of cloth from her bag and pressing it against Wolf's arm.

Wolf winced, his jaw clenched. "You should have left me out of that."

"No way," Anastasia replied, tightening the makeshift bandage. "You took on that monster for us. You're not just a soldier here—you're family."

Wolf's eyes softened, and he nodded, though a gruff hum was the only acknowledgment he'd allow. Avery moved in to help, pressing her hand to his other shoulder, steadying him.

Bastian glanced around, catching his breath as he took in the room, his eyes falling on the back wall. It was subtly ornate, the rough stone framing a tomb sealed in glass and lined with delicate carvings. And within, encased with reverence and age, lay what they had come for: the weapon, gleaming faintly in the dim light, nestled beside what had to be the remains of Saint Peter himself.

Matt's eyes widened. "So, the holiest weapon we've been searching for… right next to a saint's bones? Anyone else feeling underdressed?"

"Stay focused," Anastasia whispered, running a hand along the edge of the glass, reverent. "This is a place of respect. We get what we need and go. Nothing more."

Bastian stepped forward, careful and measured, pressing his hands against the glass casing. Slowly, he lifted the cover, revealing the weapon: a slender blade, gleaming, almost ethereal, lined with intricate markings that pulsed faintly with energy.

Avery leaned in, her eyes bright. "I knew they'd keep it hidden with a saint. It's almost poetic."

Gingerly, Anastasia reached in, lifting the weapon with both hands. "Be careful," she murmured, her tone awed. It was lighter than she expected, but the moment her fingers closed around the hilt, a rush of power washed through her, ancient and fierce.

Matt glanced around. "Alright, we've got it. Let's get out of here before anyone realizes we've done more than a tourist walkthrough."

But no sooner had he spoken than a quiet, almost eerie sound echoed from down the tunnel—a clinking, rhythmic like armor shifting in unison. It grew louder, filling the silence until, emerging from the shadows, an army of Vatican guards stepped forward, armor gleaming, swords drawn. But that wasn't all; behind them, flanked by silent, radiant energy, stood Angel Guardians, their forms nearly glowing in the dim light.

"Oh, brilliant," Matt muttered under his breath, his hand reaching for his weapon. "Nothing like a whole welcome committee."

Wolf, wounded arm clutched tightly, took a shaky step forward, his voice steely. "We'll get through this. We have the weapon. No one's taking it from us now."

The guards moved in formation, creating an impenetrable line, while the Angel Guardians watched with unreadable expressions, their piercing gazes fixed on Bastian and Anastasia. Their leader, a tall, imposing angel with a blade nearly as long as he was, took a step forward, eyes narrowing.

"You are trespassing on holy grounds," he intoned, voice carrying a weight that made the walls tremble. "And you will surrender the weapon."

Bastian tightened his grip on his own sword, his stance steady. "That's not going to happen."

The angel's expression didn't shift, but his eyes gleamed, a silent promise of the fight to come. The tension in the air thickened, as both sides stood poised for a clash that could bring the entire chamber down.

And as the first guard took a step forward, the group tensed, preparing for the battle that would decide everything.