The scent of soot and sulfur tickled Griswold's nose as an explosive flash filled his vision. The intense burst of heat quickly reduced his home's curtains to a cloud of dust, allowing the fire to rush into the room. Off in the distance, he heard an uncountable number of similar blasts rip through the towns bringing the festivities to a sudden horrifying end. "Mr. Mapp! Can you hear me?!" his secretary yelled.
"Ugh," he grunted. His body was covered in cuts thanks to the shards of shattered glass, and his head felt like hell. "Like this… would be enough to take a Giant down!" It didn't take long for him to gather his resolve and shake his battered form from the rubble.
"Sir!"
"I'm okay, Juniper," he said as she flipped out a small box of bandages. "Take care of your wounds first."
"Are you sure? At least let me stop the bleeding."
"No, I couldn't live with myself if someone died under my employ." He might've been a shameless politician, but he wasn't heartless. "I've got to go and inspect the damage." As one of his species' leaders, it was his responsibility to be at the forefront of any crisis. The second his mind turned to that topic a flood of memories bubbled to the surface. "Somebody attacked this place."
"What?" Juniper started, dumbfounded, "Who would be stupid enough to do that?"
"How should I know?" Griswold sighed as he stumbled to the destroyed balcony. "That Angel I saw earlier, could they be connected to this?" He shook his head, his mind was still too fuzzy to be entertaining such a conspiracy. "If the phone still works contact my associates on the Council, they've got to know what's happened here."
"Understood," Juniper said, her tone steady and fearless, as she tied her blonde hair back.
"That woman has the heart of a lion, I swear." After patching himself up the best he could, Griswold crawled through the ruins that used to be his home and made his way to his front lawn. His beautiful garden was ablaze, and the foul scent of roasting wildlife filled the air. "Odd… I can't hear anyone else." It was the height of Bauenfest—he should've been able to find a few stragglers, especially after such a disaster.
"You dolt! Why'd you burn the whole compound?! If he dies, we won't be able to interrogate him!"
"Sorry, I and the troops are just excited. This is our first time outside, after all."
"So, this is an actual assault," Griswold thought as he bit his lip, "Who would be demonic enough to do something like this on a holiday?!" Carefully, he tiptoed behind a pile of charred debris and stole a glance at the gossipers. He recognized their features instantly. "What?! Those are actual Devils!" How could they be here? It was common knowledge that their race was confined to Hell and Purgatory!
"Should we call the boss for further orders?" the larger one asked, clearly hungry for more action.
"Do you want to die?" his superior scoffed. "He's already in a bad enough mood as it is."
"You'd think he'd be a bit more thankful, considering that he was the one who started this party."
"Again, be careful with what you say. You know what the boss was in the past, right?"
"Sure, though I'd think that—" the soldier stopped. "We're not alone," he continued as he held his nose up to the air.
"Shit! I should've expected that!" Griswold realized as he hastily grabbed a nearby rock. "I'll have to throw them off the trail!" With as much strength as he could manage, he hurled the stone over the assailants' heads. It flew for a handful of seconds, eventually crashing into a distant marble statue. "My gardener's going to kill me."
"I knew somebody was sneaking around here!"
"Take a couple of guys and inspect the grounds again; don't leave a single stone unturned!" the commander ordered as he nervously scratched the tips of his horns.
"Now's my chance!" The moment the Demons had their backs turned, Griswold sprinted to a small shed near the border of his property. It was a quaint shack that, just a few hours earlier, was covered in breathtaking flowers and vines. Its crumbling shell still smelt faintly of roses, a welcome change to the otherwise heavy atmosphere. Inside was a small partition—just big enough to dump waste out to the external sewers—however, during a catastrophe such as this, it could also be used as an escape route. "What a pleasant smell," he grimaced as he held his nostrils shut. "I can't leave Juniper behind, but maybe I'll be able to find someone who can contact the Bureau." This path ran past the main road to his home's lake; with just a little luck, he'd be able to get his hands on a working transmitter. "All right," he whispered as he leaped into the opening, "Time to earn my keep."
Desire, for all living creatures, is a fickle concept. One could spend decades in the pursuit of a goal expecting a great prize in return for their efforts, only to be met with the crushing realization that what they expected was little more than a dream. No matter how perfect the individual, Aeron always noticed that this fact of life reared its ugly head sooner or later. It was simply a law of nature. "Dammit," he cursed as he hovered far above Griswold's war-torn mansion, "This isn't any different." His heart was pumping, and he felt incredible, but something was missing—like an itch deep in his bones. "Eh," he muttered, "it's just cold feet."
"Hey, boss, are you okay?" a Demon asked as she flew up to him. A behemoth of a soldier, she carried a large axe and donned a heavily-used suit of armor. Her name was Pereph, his second-in-command for this invasion.
"Don't mind me," he responded, "I'm only daydreaming."
"I recommend kicking that habit as soon as possible," she told him with a frown. "The news of your fall is still making the rounds, we can use that to our advantage here."
"Spoken like a true soldier." Her uptight nature reminded him of the senior clergy back home. Although, that wasn't exactly a bad trait. "Take a few of the recruits and comb through the mansion, but don't kill anyone."
"That's surprising, coming from you."
"We can't get testimonies from corpses." Plus, they had no idea where the Giants' souls would end up. One wrong move and they'd be sending Heaven a walking declaration of war. "I'm no longer a judge. If things get hairy, I might not be able to pull us out." Thanks to Satan's gift, his destructive power had increased dramatically; however, without a gavel, his versatility was practically nonexistent. "Report back if you find Griswold." Without a word, Pereph nodded and rushed to inform the grunts. This had to be done quickly and efficiently. Giants were naturally powerful beings, after all. With their numbers, they currently had the advantage, though things could easily spiral out of control if the Buried Council got involved. "It's the commander's duty to ensure his subordinates get home safe, huh?" That thought sounded like something Zia would say.
After that, he flew down to what used to be the mansion's dock. Like the people who built it, the building was comically large. The boats moored at its pier, however, were quite mundane, being designed for persons of all shapes and sizes. A flock of seagull-like birds covered every vessel; a welcome change from the moon's typical dense forests. "This is so far from the main grounds that it might as well be part of a different property. Why's this place so well-maintained?" Slowly, Aeron rummaged through the piles of random gadgets and fishing equipment. After a few minutes of this, he happened upon something interesting. "I see," he mumbled with a smile, "This is a safe house." Sitting behind all the knickknacks and oddities was a neatly organized row of transmitters, all assigned to different important organizations. "Well, I guess every public servant has to have a backup." Just as those words left his lips a shovel crashed into the back of his skull.
"Sorry," the assailant, Griswold, thought as Aeron tumbled to the ground. "Don't hold this against me, it's just business." Luckily, he'd arrived at the dock a handful of seconds before him, giving the Giant time to prepare for an ambush. "If you want to blame somebody, blame yourself." All of the realms were abuzz with the news of his guest's fall, he couldn't act quietly even if he wanted to. "Well, c'mon!" Griswold yelped as he readied his arms for another swing. "I know for a fact that that wasn't enough to take you down!"
"Was it that obvious?" Aeron asked, amused, as he stood up.
"Please, I'm no fool."
"I agree." Any who were brave enough to face him deserved respect. Playfully, Aeron lunged forward and drove his right fist into Griswold's stomach. The impact barreled through the man's intestines to the back of his spine, sending the Giant into a temporary state of shock. However, this opening only lasted a moment, and Griswold quickly bounced back into the fight. Instead of retaliating with a physical blow, the diplomat reached over and grabbed a nearby ballast bag. Aeron—who thought that he was going to use it as a weapon—raised his arms to block, though this gave Griswold just the opening he needed.
"I've got you now!" In a flash, Griswold tore open the canvas and grabbed a fistful of sand.
"Ah, hell." Before Aeron knew what was happening his eyes were caked in a layer of dry sediment. "You're no stranger to dirty fights," he hissed as the Giant slammed his foot into his groin.
"This is my way of showing respect!" Griswold roared as he threw another punch. However, Aeron caught the man's fist effortlessly. "Damn… and here I thought I had you." His joking tone reminded him of Jeremy.
"I never took you to be a brave type, what with all those guards you had back at the summit," Aeron growled.
"My secretary always tells me that I'm too paranoid!" Griswold yelled again. His personal feelings aside, defending his home and people was his responsibility. "This is insane," he thought. No matter what he threw, Aeron always got back up healthy as can be.
"Stop it," he said. "You're just wasting time." Both of them knew that Griswold wasn't capable of defeating him. The man simply didn't have the experience, but the Giant pushed on.
"I might not have your raw power, Mr. Weber, but that's not a bad thing!" Taking a moment to catch his breath, Griswold ducked behind one of the many ships and glanced at a transmitter hidden beneath his belt. "Just a bit more."
"Do you think you can hide from me?" Aeron yelled. Following that, Griswold felt a warm breeze waft down his neck. And then, out of nowhere, a torrent of flames swept through the place. "Careful," he thought to himself as he bit his lip and stopped the assault, "I don't want another Atlantis." Typically, such a grand display signaled the end of his fights; however, Griswold wasn't satisfied.
"God give me strength!"
"Found you!" Aeron yelped as he dashed into the Giant's hiding spot; however, he was nowhere to be seen. In his place sat a large hole in the dock revealing the waters below, no doubt leading to some other side of the compound. "Tch, he's a slippery one." Even though he was only playing around, he had to admit that he was impressed by the diplomat's ingenuity. Sadly, all good things must come to an end. "I need to get back to the others." A quick glance at the sun told him that he was running out of time. However, right as he unfurled his wings, another blast shook the building. "Reinforcements?!"
"Surround him!" an unfamiliar man cried out as a platoon of armored Giants dove into the charred remains of the dock.
"Griswold was buying time!" His idiotic merrymaking had cost him dearly. He wouldn't be able to fight his way through this all by himself. "I'll have to get inventive," Aeron thought, but, surprisingly, the Giants predicted this.
"Take out his arms!" the commander of the regiment—a short lad who appeared to be no more than thirty—yelled. A rain of bullets came down from every which way, each shot aimed precisely at Aeron's joints.
"These people are skilled!" He knew the Giants were no joke in a fight, but this was something else. These people knew how powerful he was, yet they were fearlessly provoking him. "Is this your military?" he called out to Griswold as he jumped onto the building's partially-destroyed roof.
"These lads are the Buried Council's personal security force! They're trained to deal with every race in God's kingdom! Of course, that includes Cherubs!"
"Where's he hiding?" Aeron thought as he searched for the source of the voice. In his haste, he allowed a few of the soldiers' bullets to slip through the cracks. "Damn!" Thankfully the wounds were only minor grazes, but, for him, they were a major embarrassment. "Get it together, Aeron!" He wasn't there to play war with a handful of peons. And so, he resorted to drastic measures. With a grin, he reached for his sword. This inevitably led to more wounds, but he ignored them. He wouldn't be able to get out of this by treating these warriors like those fools back at the Flying Wing.
"Watch out!" the commander yelled as Aeron threw a gigantic wall of fire toward the coast. He'd purposefully turned down the heat to avoid unwanted deaths; however, the force of the blast was unimaginable. It ripped through the clouds, leaving a gaping hole in the sky.
"Wow," he thought. The soldiers were practically unharmed. With their skilled teamwork and strategy, they'd managed to contain the majority of his attack's shockwave. That said, his efforts weren't completely fruitless. The dock's floorboards had been reduced to a pile of splinters, revealing a handful of crevices beneath. "You should know by now that you can't run from me."
"How tenacious," Griswold hissed as he motioned for his soldiers to attack. "Be careful! And don't try to be a hero! Remember who we're dealing with."
"Ah, stop, you'll make me blush."
"You can never be too cautious when fighting a judge," the leading soldier said, his tone quiet and somber. "Close in slowly while hampering his movement."
"Damn, looks like they've realized I've been holding back," he thought as he clicked his tongue. After dodging one of the sniper's shots, he made his way over to the coast and fired off another attack. Just like before, the soldiers quickly moved out of the way. However, unlike last time, some of them didn't escape unharmed.
"Fall back and assume a defensive position!" the commander yelled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange, boxlike device. "Hit the deck!" The moment those words left his lips, the soldier pressed a small button on the side of the gadget and threw it into the sky. Before long, it exploded in a vibrant array of colors and dust. Aeron couldn't tell what it was at first, but his instincts screamed at him to get away.
"A blessing, huh?" The gilded particles that came wafting down singed his skin and made his eyes water. It felt familiar. "Got yourself a few souvenirs from Purgatory, Griswold?!"
"Like I'd tell you, you crazy bat!" Aeron was too busy fighting to notice, but the diplomat had a devious smile on his lips.
"Knowing the Drakes, this is probably some form of paralysis toxin. Hmph… no thank you! Once was plenty!" Like lightning, Aeron drew his sword and swung it downwards, creating a torrent of wind that catapulted the dubious smoke into the ocean. The second the particles touched the water's surface, the sea foam bubbled and popped like magma. Of course, being too caught up in the action, Aeron didn't notice this and rushed straight into the fray. "Come on! Are you guys scared?!"
"Far from it!" The commander was quick to answer his challenge and charged toward him like an angry bull. The force of the two warriors' collision tore trenches in the sand and tossed up veritable mountains of debris.
"Heh," Aeron giggled. "You guys certainly live up to your reputation!"
"I'm glad to know that we've earned a Devil's respect!" the man hissed in a condescending tone. His strength truly was incredible, but, sadly, it wasn't enough. Little by little, Aeron pushed forward. But his opponent wasn't short on tricks. At the precipice of their bout, the Giant grunted, grinned, and then spat a mouthful of bloody sand directly into Aeron's eyes. Divine power or not, that sudden shock froze his body for a fraction of a second, which was more than enough for the Buried Council's best to turn the tables.
"Shit!" he cursed as he was tossed down into the shimmering water. "That definitely could've gone better!" The embarrassment aside, getting his attack directed so easily was a rookie mistake. "Enough of this!" he yelled as he pulled himself out of the shore. His clothes were soaked in that mysterious weapon's glitter, but, as nothing felt amiss, he paid it no mind.
"We've got him!"
"One last hurrah, men! Give it all you've got!" The platoon descended upon him like a cloud of locusts. A terrifying sight, albeit completely idiotic.
"Do these fools have a death wish?" They were grouped up into one large target. For the first time since the battle began, Aeron felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Something was off. However—perhaps due to his pride or sheer stubbornness—he stood his ground. He hurled another volley at the soldiers, which took out most of them, but a few managed to slip through. He thought he'd be able to take the brunt of the majority of their attacks. But, when the commander's first bullet dug into his shoulder, something strange happened. As if he'd been bitten by the fires of Tartarus, his flesh suddenly overflowed with an unfamiliar burning. This quick, shocking pain completely caught him off guard, giving the soldiers' the opening they needed to push him back.
"Go for the head!" Griswold cried out as the commander buried his left foot in Aeron's groin. Just like before, a heightened feeling of pain shot through his body like thunder.
"Gah!"
"Guess you aren't so invincible after all!" one of the soldiers gloated; however, he got too close to the edge of his blade, and was quickly burnt to a crisp by the searing heat.
"Don't get overconfident just because we've gotten the upper hand!"
"It's that commander again!" The Buried Council certainly picked the right man for the job; he couldn't find a way out of this mess! Aeron, in his scramble to dodge, grabbed the man's pocket, causing its contents to spill out into the ocean. Among the random pile of knickknacks and lint, he saw something that intrigued him: a locket, no bigger than a peanut, dangling off the commander's belt. The constant fighting had knocked it loose, revealing a pleasant picture of the man's family. There was something in those smiles that Aeron found strangely… alluring. As if he were watching a breathtaking robin frolic just outside his window. "How strange," he thought as the soldiers hammered his skull with terrifying blows. "Peace. So that's what it looks like." And, with that, he blacked out.