Gilliam led Philos and Sir Smith down the wide asphalt road that was the main street in Talvory City without issue or much confusion.
"It helps to have an Angel around sometimes," Gilliam laughed. "At least the sight of your halo scares the public enough for them to get out of our way."
"We must hurry," Sir Smith said, ignoring the sentiment of the other.
"Yeah!" Philos said, trailing close behind. "We have to save Astrid and stop this Adonai guy before it's too late!"
"If I know my brother—and I do know my brother—he won't keep this easy for us," Gilliam said.
As the three rushed down the main street, Philos looked around. The civilians had retreated to the shadows, their faces barely visible behind the growing wall of soldiers, which became increasingly more heavily armed as the team grew closer to the Government Tower.
Suddenly, Gilliam stopped at the lead. "Been a while," he called out, as if speaking into the air. "Hasn't it, older brother?"
"You're as troublesome as ever, Gilliam," a booming voice cut through the thick tension around them.
Ahead, a line of soldiers broke formation and the Adonai stepped in front of them. Philos stopped. This man was just imposing as Philos remembered. The Adonai was a menace of a man, tall and brawny. He wore no shirt, his chest bare underneath his shoulder armor, leaving the tattoo of the number 4 visible upon his muscled chest.
"And you would even go as far as to ally yourself with Angels." The Adonai clenched his fist, narrowing his darkening blue eyes, hot steam beginning to waft from his body.
Gilliam stepped forward, the frost on his body beginning to glaze like a crystalline sheet upon his chest. "And you've still blinded yourself behind your hot rage."
Philos drew the hilt of Exillio and almost stepped forward, when Sir Smith held out his hand to stop him.
"What are you doing, Sir Smith?" the young man said, startled.
"Let them fight their fight." The Angel nodded. "This looks personal."
Philos looked ahead.
Fire versus ice. He understood then. They're enemies...
"You who stand in the wake of the New World," the Adonai said, flames exploding in his hand. "You must perish!"
Suddenly, with a thrust of his fist, a great ball of red flame burst forth, flying across the street toward Gilliam. A blast resounded through the streets, and a great wind flew between buildings. The surrounding soldiers stood still like statues as civilians panicked. The noise was a wash of screams and the hissing of steam.
"Your New World," Gilliam said, raising his hand, the moisture in the air freezing instantly into a giant wall of ice, "is nothing but tyranny!"
"Nay, brother!" the Adonai raged. "You are weak in your compassion!"
He raised his hand, flames engulfing it, and brought it down in a great chopping motion.
"Do you forget what they did to us?!" The Adonai asked. The flames bashed against the wall of ice, severing it in two and slamming the two pieces into Gilliam, sending the Black Rose flying to the ground. The Adonai pointed to the tattooed number 4 on his chest. "Did you forget the marks of our bondage?"
"Forget?" Gilliam stood and unbuckled his charred breastplate.
Philos' eyes opened wide.
He...
It was true! The tattoo of the number 5 was branded on his chest.
Philos gripped his chest.
You too...?
Sir Smith stood, his normally stoic face ridden with what Philos could only describe as disgust.
"How could I ever forget?" Gilliam extended his hand, a blue aura engulfing his body. "I only," he said as a sword of ice formed in his hand, "learned that there is only progress when we forgive! We ate the hearts of the ones who bound us in chains, should we not use those powers in irony? Should we not use them to fight for unity?!"
"Unity?" the Adonai growled, rearing back and readying a fist full of crimson flame.
"Unity!" Gilliam exclaimed as he rushed forward, blade ready.
Soon the two were face-to-face, Gilliam leapt into the air, his frozen blade raining down like a great hammer.
"To the end of you!" the Adonai roared as he met the blade with a flaming uppercut.
Frost and steam exploded into the air, the force of which knocked several soldiers to the ground, and almost toppled Sir Smith and Philos.
The mist was blinding as it slowly cleared.
"Gilliam!" Philos exclaimed.
Before him, Gilliam lay upon the ground, hunched over and screaming as he held the charred black burn upon his abdomen.
"Gilliam!" Sir Smith rushed forward.
He can heal him! Philos' heart leapt with a faint hope. "Don't let him die!" the young man yelled out.
"Hold still!" Sir Smith quickly knelt beside the dying man and held out his hands.
"You..." The booming voice of the Adonai was a low, grisly growl as he stood over Sir Smith like an ominous spire. He raised his hand, red flames answering his call and wrapping their tongues around his fingers.
"Sir Smith!" Philos jolted forward.
"Perish!" the Adonai bellowed as his hand came down like a blade, flames rising high and powerful.
Flames exploded as they collided with the ground, spreading out so vastly that the people and soldiers began to run in fear of being singed.
Then, there was silence.
"You?!" the Adoani exclaimed as the smoke cleared.
There, before him, Philos stood between him and his Angelic target, the bright purple energy of Exillio's hilt spread out like a shield.
"You defended against my flame?"
"We've met once before..." Philos' voice was a baleful growl. "You already took one of my friends from me. I won't let you kill another!"
Sir Smith froze as he watched the young man who just saved his life. Friend...?
The word seemed so alien to him. In that moment, the boy who saved his life—the boy who called him friend...
...Sir Smith was reminded of Vespira.
"You would fight for the Angels?!" the Adonai raged. "You would fight for them even after what they've done to our kind?!"
For some reason, in that moment, Philos thought of Sir Smith the night before, under the ashen light of the celestial moon.
'Is it really so odd?' He remembered the Angel's words. 'That I too dream of a world where all people are free...?'
Ya know, Sir Smith, Philos thought, almost as if answering the Angel's words in his mind, I as well...
"Your anger blinds you!" Philos said, his reddish eyes meeting his enemy's. "The Angels, they've done terrible things, I know that just as well as you. They've caused our people to suffer. But, still...you can't judge one person by the sins of their forefathers! People can change. There are good Angels, just like there are bad humans...and I believe in Sir Smith's dream! I believe in a world where everyone is free!"
"You know it as well as me?" the Adonai spat. "Sickening! You know nothing of my suffering! You know nothing of the cries of our people! They took me away; they beat me; they starved and worked me to the bone! You know nothing!"
Philos clenched his fist; he stood straight up. His eyes scanned his surroundings. The soldiers who once stood stalwart now stood ready with blades drawn. Civilians watched in horror, their eyes glinting with fear and uncertainty.
"Don't pretend—" Philos' voice was dark as he grabbed his shirt and ripped it from the buttons.
The Adonai froze. "You!?"
"That you know anything about me!"
"Philos..." Gilliam said, his voice straining as Sir Smith healed him slowly.
There, upon the young man's chest, the number 9 was tattooed.
"You were..." the Adonai said, "a slave as well?"
There was silence for a moment, then the Adonai spoke.
"Nonetheless." Flames began to seep from his fist. "Slave or not, those who oppose the New World must be eradicated."
Philos sighed. "Thought as much..."
Suddenly, the large man shot two fireballs in quick succession, the force from both slamming into Exillio's shield, sending Philos skidding back upon his heels.
"Go, Sir Smith!" Philos exclaimed. "Get Gilliam out of here!"
The Angel nodded. "Don't die—" he said as he threw the Black Rose's weakened body over his shoulder.
"Shall we pursue?" a soldier asked.
"Pursue." The Adonai waved his hand, then turned to Philos. "And I'm done with you! Men!"
Philos stopped as fifty soldiers surrounded him, blades drawn.
"Lock him in Laveau's lab," the Adonai commanded. "Perhaps he could be the next to power the Juggernaut."
Philos gritted his teeth as he looked around himself.
Outnumbered.
He dropped Exillio.
Dammit...
The Starbreather watched as Philos was chained and dragged into the tower.
Suddenly, a crescent grin formed upon his face, his shark-like teeth bared underneath his blood-red eyes. Galaxies collided upon his skin.
"It's time...!" he exclaimed in a voice no one had heard in a thousand years.
The Starblood is about to scream!