Saints Who Bleed

The desert was not always sand.

Beneath the boys' feet, shards of buried ruins jutted out like broken bones—glass, rusted iron, and ancient tech scorched beyond repair. They passed statues that once had names, monuments that once had meaning. All gone now.

Above them, the stars shimmered. But they weren't stars. They were satellites, orbiting dead.

Icarus ran his fingers through the dirt.

"We're walking on the graves of a thousand empires."

Haru scanned the horizon. "And heading into another war built on their bones."

Daiki led the way, silent as ever. Since Yehmar, something inside him had shifted. He didn't flinch when he killed anymore. He didn't wait for orders.

Ren noticed. And he worried.

Far away, in the fortified tower of Saint Galentium, the Vatican's high tribunal lit thirteen candles—one for each seal upon the Abyssal Gate.

At the center of the room, the sealed coffin pulsed.

The voice of Cardinal Seraphiel rang like divine judgment.

"The Four are nearing the Shrine of Threads. If they awaken what sleeps beneath it, the balance tips. The Ministry has failed."

He turned to Eva Althune, clad in ceremonial white and obsidian armor.

"You were raised for this. Baptized in shadow. Kill the boys before they remember who they are."

Eva bowed once. "If they are saviors, let Heaven weep for what I must do.

The boys arrived at a ruined temple in the Wyrmsong Dunes.

Its stone was ancient, built with a language no one spoke anymore—glyphs that twisted when you looked too long, pillars that hummed with power.

"Is this the Shrine of Threads?" Haru asked.

Ren walked forward, fingertips brushing carvings of winged beings—neither angel nor demon. Something… else.

"This shrine predates both Vatican and Ministry," Ren whispered. "It belongs to the First Watchers."

Icarus found a pedestal buried in the sand. When he touched it, his veins flared with light. Not holy. Not demonic.

Something older.

Then the visions came.

In that moment, the boys were no longer themselves. Their minds spiraled into a shared memory—one that wasn't theirs, yet felt familiar.

They saw:

A city floating above oceans, powered by crystal cores and ancient AI.

Children born with marks glowing like constellations.

A war between celestials—angels who rebelled against fate, and demons who tried to rewrite it.

And among them…

Four silhouettes.

One with wind swirling like halos. One with fire screaming through pistols. One whose eyes pierced time. One whose footsteps cracked mountains.

"We've lived before," Icarus gasped, falling to his knees.

"We're not just the chosen," Daiki said. "We're the remainder."

Eva Descends

The sky shattered like glass.

A spear of light struck the sand, forming a crater—and in it stood Eva Althune, untouched, her silver eyes glowing with unholy calm.

"You've seen too much," she said.

Daiki drew his blade. "Another puppet?"

Eva's cloak fluttered. "No. I'm the hand that cuts strings."

Without another word, she lunged.

She was faster than anything they'd fought. Her weapon—a dual-edged glaive—moved like a whisper, slicing wind itself. Daiki parried, but was thrown back.

Ren tried to foresee her strikes, but her movements blurred even his vision.

"I can't read her!" Ren shouted.

"She's covered in relic tech," Icarus yelled. "Her soul's masked!"

Haru fired both pistols—flames roared, but Eva danced between them, closing in.

"You're strong," she said. "But not strong enough to kill a god."

Her glaive pierced the sand—

And summoned a Sentinel Demon from the abyss below.

The creature was massive—like a golem made of holy stone and demonic tar, its chest marked with both a cross and an inverted crown.

"This is Vatican's secret," Eva said. "Hybrids. Demon-saints. Chimeras of Heaven and Hell."

The Sentinel bellowed. The sand turned to glass.

Daiki leapt first, channeling wind into his sword—each strike turned into a whirlwind slash. He carved into its shoulder, but it regenerated instantly.

"It's using holy cores to heal!" Icarus shouted. "Like our pistols—but worse!"

Ren closed his eyes, searching for futures.

Only one path.

"We have to cut the seal in its chest. At the same time."

The boys moved as one. Haru ignited his pistols, Daiki spun into a bladed tempest, Icarus locked the demon with gravity bursts, and Ren timed the second precisely.

The moment froze.

Four forces collided into the creature's core—wind, fire, earth, and time.

A roar. A shockwave.

The desert split open.

The Sentinel was gone. Eva stood across the dune, her armor cracked.

Blood ran from her lip. Her eyes—still calm.

"You're evolving faster than we expected," she said.

"We're done running," Ren said. "Tell Seraphiel—next time, we come to him."

Eva vanished in light.

The wind fell still.