Chapter 14 – Elijah, the Mysterious  

Anastasia's gaze locked on the angel leader, his aura calm yet smirking, his expression almost bored, as though he'd encountered thieves like them before and knew how this scene would end. He raised his head, his long blond hair cascading over one shoulder like he was carved out of stone.

"I'm Elijah," he announced, his voice smooth, almost too self-assured. "This weapon, the Yamato Sword, also known as an Angel Fire Blade—" he gestured toward the blade Anastasia held close—"it's not some relic to be dragged out of here by a handful of mortals. You think we'd let you waltz in, make off with one of our most sacred items?"

Anastasia raised a brow, looking Elijah dead in the eye with an expression just as haughty. "I didn't think it'd be this easy, honestly." She shrugged, her stance relaxing as though she had all the time in the world to chat.

Elijah's lips curled, mildly amused. "That weapon doesn't belong to you, or to any human for that matter. We keep it here, protected, because in the wrong hands…" His gaze trailed over her, as though to imply she was the wrong hands. "...its power is catastrophic."

"Oh, I don't doubt its power," she said, smirking back. "But I don't remember asking for your permission."

That flicker of amusement turned to a look of intrigue, and Elijah took a step forward, as though her defiance piqued his interest. He'd pegged her as just another human, one who didn't understand the magnitude of what she was dealing with. But she was standing up to him without a flicker of hesitation, and it almost made him hesitate.

"Careful, little one," he said, that faint smirk still on his lips. "You have no idea what you're standing against."

She took a challenging step closer, ignoring Bastian's warning glance. She didn't need backup for this. Elijah was watching her with a patronizing smirk, and she was done playing by his rules. Brushing past him, she made to walk toward the rest of her group, but a sudden motion stopped her.

Elijah's arm shot out, his blade blocking her path, inches from her face. She paused, her eyes narrowing, her chin tilted up defiantly. Her gaze flickered sideways to meet his, her lips curling into a smirk of her own.

And then, in one fluid motion, she took hold of his arm, gripped it tight, and with a sharp twist, tossed him off his feet, sending him hurtling through the air. He landed with a graceful spin, his boots sliding across the stone, but he couldn't mask the surprise in his eyes. She wasn't just another human.

Still not breaking eye contact, she stretched her wings wide, feathers catching the light, her face a picture of superiority. Elijah's eyes went wide, and for a second, he looked genuinely dumbstruck, his disbelief evident.

He blinked, then his gaze hardened, brows furrowing as he drew his blade, its edge gleaming. "Take the others," he ordered his guards, his voice steely. "This girl is mine."

Anastasia flicked a glance at her team. "You heard him. Take them down, but don't kill."

In an instant, chaos erupted. Vatican guards and angel guardians surged forward, weapons raised, charging toward the small, determined group. Matt's face shifted from shock to fierce determination, a side of him that even Anastasia hadn't seen, and he launched himself into the fray, weaving and ducking, his movements sharp and precise as he disarmed the first guard that lunged at him.

Colonel Wolf, bleeding but unyielding, tackled two guards at once, a mix of strength and sheer resilience. He threw a sharp elbow into one guard's face, sending him sprawling, then spun to counter a blow aimed at his side, despite his injured arm. Lt. Avery backed him up, agile and quick, her strikes calculated as she took down another guard with a single, sweeping kick.

Anastasia felt a glimmer of pride as she watched her team, but her attention snapped back to Elijah, who was circling her with a deadly grace, his blade pointed and ready, his eyes sharp with appraisal.

"You've been hiding, haven't you?" he mused, stalking closer. "A human—no, not human. Something more." His lips curved, almost amused. "Hiding away your power so well… impressive."

She shrugged, holding her stance, blade raised. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Doesn't it?" he said, his tone taunting, as if baiting her. He edged closer, his gaze unwavering. "You think just because you've got wings you're one of us? That we're on the same side?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "Aren't we? You know we're not here for harm. Why fight us?"

He took a deliberate step forward, his gaze unyielding. "Angels have crossed over before. Corruption seeps into everything eventually. And for all I know, you're no different."

A twinge of annoyance flared through her. "So this is about doubt?"

He laughed softly, coldly. "Tell me, then, if you're so pure of heart—what would two angels want with a weapon powerful enough to kill not only demons but angels, too?"

Anastasia froze for half a second, then smirked, deflecting the question. "Guess you'll have to find out the hard way."

And with that, she launched herself at him, her blade clashing with his in a shower of sparks. Elijah twisted, countering her strike with a flick of his wrist, but she followed up with a sweep of her wings, sending a gust of force that caught him off guard. He stumbled back, a glint of respect mixed with fury in his eyes.

They circled each other again, each strike sharper, faster, his taunts growing quieter but still there, watching her, challenging her, as if he couldn't quite believe he'd met his match. But she wasn't giving him any ground.

Across the chamber, Matt was a whirlwind, his every movement precise, controlled, and brutal. He ducked a guard's sword, countering with a swift elbow to the ribs, then spun to parry a second strike with a finesse that astonished even Bastian. The two exchanged a glance mid-fight, and Bastian grinned, nodding in approval.

Anastasia caught it, her pride flickering even in the midst of battle. But then Elijah lunged, his blade flashing as he aimed for her side. She sidestepped, swinging her own blade to counter, the clash of metal reverberating through the room.

"You fight well," he murmured, his eyes gleaming, almost admiring. "But you've got much to learn."

"And you underestimate me," she shot back, catching his gaze and holding it.

They were close now, nearly nose to nose, both breathing heavily, the tension thick between them. Elijah's smirk softened into something more thoughtful, his blade lowered just an inch, as if this was a game he'd suddenly begun to enjoy.

But that hesitation cost him. Anastasia took advantage of his lapse, a surge of energy rushing through her as she threw him back with one hard strike, her wings flaring as she prepared for the next round.

Elijah picked himself up, shaking off the dust, his face unreadable. Then he drew in a breath, steadied himself, and his eyes turned cold.

"Enough," he called, voice echoing. "Fall back." He raised a hand, signaling the guards and other angels to stand down. Then he turned his gaze back to her, his expression a mixture of curiosity and dark resolve.

But he didn't give her time to ask what he meant. With a calm, icy smile, he lifted his blade, pointed it straight at her heart, and spoke just loud enough for her alone to hear.

"If you want this weapon, little angel, then you're going to have to fight me to the death."

The room fell silent, the fight halted, all eyes turning to the two of them. Anastasia felt her heart pound, the challenge like a jolt of electricity through her veins. But she didn't back down. She met his gaze, her own blade raised, her stance unyielding.

And she knew, without a doubt, that she was ready.