FedoraChar
07-04-2015, 10:22 PM
Angelfire
Some people said the world would end with fire.
They had no idea how right they were.
And how wrong.
The end of the world came with the melting of reality, and the coming of a War.
~~~~
The Challenger was a smooth ride, Aarin wouldn’t deny. Granted, he would have enjoyed the ride more if he wasn’t crammed in the back between a slobbering manticore and an over-excited flying squirrel. The former had particularly pungent lion-breath, while the latter kept shocking him with jolts of electricity. As irritating as they were, Aarin couldn’t say that he was particularly eager to reach their destination. Gazing out the windows at the ashen wastelands, he couldn’t say what thought made him the most nervous—finding the dragon, or mingling with the humans.
In the front passenger seat, a bald but burly man turned to check on him. “How ya holding up back there, rookie?”
Aarin gave a fleeting smile. This might have been his first assignment in the field, but calling him a “rookie” felt like an insult to his hard-earned skills. Still, he recognized Haroth’s attempt at keeping the mood light. Having said skills did nothing for nerves, but Haroth’s good nature could find a way.
The driver of the Challenger, Sariel, glanced up in the rear-view. Her smile, in contrast, was mocking. “Aw, look at you getting all buddy-buddy with Justice. I think he likes you.”
The mentioned manticore grunted (and farted, Aarin suspected), pausing from its panting to sniff at Aarin’s white hair. He batted it away with a grimace.
“What kind of person imagines up a thing like this, anyway?” he asked.
“What kind of person imagines up a flying electric squirrel?” Sariel returned, still grinning impishly.
“He’s an Emolga,” Aarin corrected. Next to him, the squirrel alighted on his shoulder and winked, holding its fingers up in a peace sign.
“Right, one of those ‘Pokeyman’ things,” she nodded slowly.
“…Pokémon, actually.”
Haroth chuckled at them, finally deigning to answer Aarin’s original question. “I always suspected that it was a cat owner who wondered what it’d be like to have a Saint Bernard. With some apparent love for mythology.”
“Funny,” Aarin remarked, scratching the Emolga between the ears. It, along with Justice the manticore and the Dodge Challenger, were known as fantasies—that is, creatures (or objects) from the imagination of humans brought to life. Commonly, they were companions to angels, who used them in their fight to protect humanity.
Not that it had done them much good. Aarin gazed back out at the wastelands, where flecks of ash fell like snow. As positively as he tried to think about their progress, he couldn’t help but feel that the angels had failed humanity.
Their very purpose had been to prevent this disaster. For eons, they had fought against the dragons to keep the border between the ethereal and the real. They had prevailed time and time again, until… it happened. Not many angels knew how, but somehow the dragons succeeded in tearing apart the boundaries. Once they did, they quickly laid waste to human civilization.
That day, the world burned.
And now, humanity clung to the wire. After they had come so far…
Sariel sobered, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Slowly, the Challenger came to a stop, kicking up all the ash into a thick cloud around them.
Waiting until the ash settled again, Sariel turned in her seat and announced, “We’re here.”
In similar fashion, Haroth grew grim. Nodding at each of them, he said, “Cover up, and be ready for anything. Stay close, rookie.”
As commanded, Aarin wrapped his scarf around his face and pulled his hood over his head. The travel rags they wore already concealed their wings, as well as their assortment of weapons. For the moment, this was the best they could do. The fantasies had no need for disguises, as they appeared only to angels and pure-hearted humans. In the past, they had been known as “imaginary friends”.
The car, on the other hand, wouldn’t be of much use in the battle to come. It was great for transportation through the wastes, especially since it didn’t depend on fossil fuels. Being a fantasy, the Challenger literally ran on nothing but imagination. But navigating through rubble for a flying fire-breathing creature…
The Challenger revved its engine as soon as everyone got out into the ash, letting them all know what it thought about being left alone in the wastelands with a coat of white ash marring its silky black paint job. Sariel paused, pouted at the vehicle. She had chosen it as her companion years ago, and spent every moment of her free time spoiling it.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” she purred to it, patting the hood, “but you know how it is. I promise that once we get back, I’ll give you a good long bath and a wax. Alright?”
The Challenger seemed placated by that. After they pulled their walking sticks from the trunk, the car hummed and drove back out into the wasteland.
Haroth sighed. “The only thing worse than a cat is a Challenger.”
Sariel narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “You’re just jealous.”
“I believe him,” Aarin piped in, shouldering his pack.
Haroth chuckled. Whistling for the manticore, he ordered, “Justice, find.”
The lion-scorpion hybrid lifted its nose, sampling the air before trotting off into the ash. The trio of angels followed wordlessly after the creature, their playful banter left behind. They walked a long ways before reaching the first signs of civilization—or, what used to be civilization. The outer reaches of the town sported nothing but the blackened skeletons of houses. Justice led them down an old stretch of road that had fallen completely to disrepair. The pavement had been scorched in several places, between the multiple craters that marred its surface. Haroth paused at one of the craters, leaning over to investigate. He ran a finger across a scorch mark, then rubbed it between his fingers.
“Fresh,” he commented, straightening.
“The reports weren’t wrong, then,” Sariel scanned the horizon, hand on her hip.
Aarin stared ahead down the road. From where they stood, he could see the first signs of human establishment: ramshackle shacks made from whatever wasn’t burned in the dragon fire. Between them, shadowy forms stood watch.
“We have company,” Aarin warned the others. Haroth and Sariel instantly stood on edge, hands going to their weapons hidden at their sides. They didn’t ease when they followed Aarin’s gaze. The Emolga gave a little whimper, while Justice growled.
Whether they noticed or not, the humans didn’t move. They seemed to just be watching, perhaps wary of the incoming travelers. They had yet to show any aggression.
“Keep moving,” Haroth said after the moment dragged on in silence, “but stay alert.”
Humans were rarely a threat to angels, though desperation often led them to extremes. The last thing any angel wanted to do was hurt them, but… Sometimes it was necessary. Hopefully, they would just see them as innocent travelers.
They continued walking into the town. As they drew near, most of the humans retreated into their modest dwellings, though some lingered in the streets, saying nothing as they kept their steady vigil. Their pale faces were smudged with black, making the bags under their eyes almost unnoticeable. This was what Aarin hated most about visiting human establishments: seeing the hopelessness in their eyes, the shades of what they once were. Once inventive and imaginative, now they were as fearful as they were in the Dark Ages.
A bleat caught his attention. Glancing up, Aarin finally noticed a surprising amount of goats wandering freely through the streets. The young angel blinked. Was this how this village survived? Raising goats? Justice snorted at the creatures, a sudden hungry look in his eyes. Haroth gently prodded the creature with his walking stick, shaking his head. Grumbling, Justice stuck his nose to the ground again and continued tracking the dragon’s scent.
The broken road widened out into a square—or, what would have been the town’s square. There, they found the biggest crater yet, which could have held an entire football field. Pipes from the city’s old sewer system stuck out from the sides, leaking trace amounts of water into the garbage heap at the crater’s center.
Aarin narrowed his eyes. In the heap, the angel could see various items of value: cell phones, televisions, CDs and Blu-rays, and all kinds of electronics, mixed with jewelry and anything else that glittered. The trainee realized that this was no garbage heap—it was a dragon’s hoard. At the foot of it stood a pole that held aloft the likeness of a dragon’s head, crudely crafted from broken wood.
A fresh goat carcass lay strewn before it.
Beside him, Sariel and Haroth grew tense.
“Dragon worshippers,” the female angel whispered.
Aarin felt sick to his stomach. They had just met the worst case scenario—humans who had been desperate enough to submit themselves to the whims of a callous beast of darkness. He became all too aware of the wall of bodies gathering behind them, ready to defend their “patron”.
“Haroth…” Aarin warned, tightening his grip on his walking stick.
The eldest angel cursed under his breath. “Why can’t this ever be easy?”
As one, the angels threw off their disguises, revealing their celestial nature in a brilliant flash of light. The humans cried out in pain, stumbling backwards at they were blinded. With one threat eliminated, the angels didn’t stop for a moment. They immediately set to arming their weapons, knowing that the real enemy would not be long in coming. Only a dead dragon wouldn’t pick up on that released light.
Sure enough, a roar soon echoed across the skies, giving the angels pause.
“Is your weapon charged up, rookie?” Haroth grumbled, heaving his massive gun over his shoulder.
Aarin glanced down at his Emolga, who was still clinging to the harpoon gun he carried, electric pouches sparking. The squirrel Pokémon returned the look with a shake of its head. “We need more time.”
A shadow glided over the ash clouds, bringing with it another roar. This time, the sound vibrated in their bones, rumbling with the very beat of their hearts.
“Not to rush you,” said Sariel, unsheathing her sword, “but I’d really prefer not to fight this guy in the skies.”
Gritting his teeth, Aarin returned, “I realize that.”
Slipping from the ash and smoke, the dragon finally made his appearance, dropping on top of the “treasure” hoard and shaking the earth. Even in the dull light, its jagged emerald scales glinted like brilliant jewels. Its breath hissed through its teeth as it looked over them with its amber eyes. It chuckled before finally speaking to them in a deep, earth-shaking voice.
“Ah, at lasssst. It hasss been too long sssinccce I tasssssted angel fleshhhhh. Tell me,” the dragon propped itself up on one elbow. “Have you been playing nicccce with my little poppetsss?”
“We’ll erase you from their memory, demon,” Sariel hissed back, leveling her sword at the beast. “Your reign of tyranny ends now.”
The dragon hissed, looking hardly fazed or insulted by her remark. Rather, its eyes glinted with maliciousness. “A preshhhiousss lot, aren’t they? It’sss amazing what humansss will do to for a crussst of bread, a sssecond breath… Another day of living. Why, you sssee all thisss?” The dragon raked a talon across its pile of treasure. “They gathered all of thessse for me, ssso I wouldn’t burn the lassst of their preshhhious home to the ground. And the meat…” It snapped its head forward, snatching up the goat carcass left at its shrine. Once it slithered down its throat, the dragon licked the edges of its bloodied teeth. “They offer it to me daily in hopesss that I don’t eat them. It hasss been entertaining to humor their fancccies, but goat meat can be ssso bland after ssso much time. I think I’m ready for a change of diet…”
The dragon smashed its talons into the pile, breaking everything under its armored underside. “Look around you,” it roared at the angels. “Look at what you have been protecting all thisss time. Pathetic. Traitorousss. Wretched filth. Cowardsss, the lot of them. And yet, you gave them the world?”
“You’re wrong,” Haroth quietly responded. “Humans are more powerful than you can imagine. Their weakness might be great, but their strengths can be greater. I have seen them create. I have seen them grow. Even now, many are rallying together to rebuild their lives. The kind of resilience they have shown despite the tragedies your kind brought upon them inspires even us. Someday, they will become greater than angels or dragons—forever golden in the eyes of the Creator.”
Recoiling its neck, the dragon hissed. “Forever gold? Pah! I will shhhow you who isss greatessst of all Creassshhhion. All of you shhhall exsspire in my fire!”
Molten light ignited at the base of its throat, soon erupting from the serpent’s throat in a jet of white-hot flames. Aarin threw aside his harpoon gun and threw up his hands, summoning a barrier of light to protect the unconscious humans behind them. The flame bounded off the barrier, though he could still feel the wave of heat rolling over them.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew had jumped into action. Justice rushed forward with a mighty roar of his own, raising his scorpion’s stinger above his head. His master, Haroth, had leapt to the side and was firing his Gatling gun at the creature. Modern weapons would have had no effect on the creature’s armored hide, but being an angelic weapon, the gun fired bolts of holy light. The dragon roared with pain as the light stung its side, and started flapping its wings. Sariel was there in an instant, flying around its head and slashing her sword at its eyes.
“Don’t let it get airborne, Aarin!” Haroth bellowed over the singing of his gun.
Aarin let the barrier down, glancing around for his discarded weapon. He quickly spotted his Emolga, who was trying desperately to carry the rifle-like weapon to him. Picking up both of them, the angel took to the skies.
The dragon was biting and swatting at Sariel, who was doing all she could to avoid getting hit while providing a good distraction. Haroth ran in closer, continuing to pelt the creature’s hide with light. At some point, the enemy gave up on the tiny swat flying around its face and launched itself at their leader. Holding on to the Gatling gun, Haroth took to the skies, dodging the surge of teeth and scales. However, his weapon slowed him down. He couldn’t get much distance before the dragon brought up its head and rammed him with the horn on its nose.
The elder angel was knocked back out of the sky, landing on the slope of the crater with a heavy thud.
Aarin took his shot before the dragon could finish elder angel. He yelled as the harpoon sailed through the air, lodging itself in the dragon’s wing. The electricity his Emolga had charged into it now coursed through the dragon. Its muscles seized up, causing it to fall to the ground. Slinging the empty harpoon gun across his shoulder, Aarin drew his own sword and dove down to meet the crippled enemy. Sariel quickly joined his side.
“Haroth’s fine,” she called to him. “Let’s finish this!”
With the charge gone, the dragon was slowly working through its paralysis, but its movements were sluggish. It did little against the manticore who had latched on to its arm, stinging and biting it again—filling it with additional poison. The dragon turned its head blearily to the approaching angels. Opening its maw, it aimed another stream of fire at them, but this time the Emolga reacted, erecting its own barrier of light around the angels.
When the smoke and ash cleared, the company emerged unscathed. The dragon stared down at them, its breath coming in hissing gasps.
“Why?” it asked, head drooping. “Why the humansss?”
“Because,” Aarin responded, lifting his sword above his head. Next to him, Sariel repeated the gesture, bringing the tip of her sword next to his. Together, the blades began glowing. “They are the future.”
With that, the angels leapt skyward, and plunged their weapons into the dragon’s neck.
Some people said the world would end with fire.
They had no idea how right they were.
And how wrong.
The end of the world came with the melting of reality, and the coming of a War.
~~~~
The Challenger was a smooth ride, Aarin wouldn’t deny. Granted, he would have enjoyed the ride more if he wasn’t crammed in the back between a slobbering manticore and an over-excited flying squirrel. The former had particularly pungent lion-breath, while the latter kept shocking him with jolts of electricity. As irritating as they were, Aarin couldn’t say that he was particularly eager to reach their destination. Gazing out the windows at the ashen wastelands, he couldn’t say what thought made him the most nervous—finding the dragon, or mingling with the humans.
In the front passenger seat, a bald but burly man turned to check on him. “How ya holding up back there, rookie?”
Aarin gave a fleeting smile. This might have been his first assignment in the field, but calling him a “rookie” felt like an insult to his hard-earned skills. Still, he recognized Haroth’s attempt at keeping the mood light. Having said skills did nothing for nerves, but Haroth’s good nature could find a way.
The driver of the Challenger, Sariel, glanced up in the rear-view. Her smile, in contrast, was mocking. “Aw, look at you getting all buddy-buddy with Justice. I think he likes you.”
The mentioned manticore grunted (and farted, Aarin suspected), pausing from its panting to sniff at Aarin’s white hair. He batted it away with a grimace.
“What kind of person imagines up a thing like this, anyway?” he asked.
“What kind of person imagines up a flying electric squirrel?” Sariel returned, still grinning impishly.
“He’s an Emolga,” Aarin corrected. Next to him, the squirrel alighted on his shoulder and winked, holding its fingers up in a peace sign.
“Right, one of those ‘Pokeyman’ things,” she nodded slowly.
“…Pokémon, actually.”
Haroth chuckled at them, finally deigning to answer Aarin’s original question. “I always suspected that it was a cat owner who wondered what it’d be like to have a Saint Bernard. With some apparent love for mythology.”
“Funny,” Aarin remarked, scratching the Emolga between the ears. It, along with Justice the manticore and the Dodge Challenger, were known as fantasies—that is, creatures (or objects) from the imagination of humans brought to life. Commonly, they were companions to angels, who used them in their fight to protect humanity.
Not that it had done them much good. Aarin gazed back out at the wastelands, where flecks of ash fell like snow. As positively as he tried to think about their progress, he couldn’t help but feel that the angels had failed humanity.
Their very purpose had been to prevent this disaster. For eons, they had fought against the dragons to keep the border between the ethereal and the real. They had prevailed time and time again, until… it happened. Not many angels knew how, but somehow the dragons succeeded in tearing apart the boundaries. Once they did, they quickly laid waste to human civilization.
That day, the world burned.
And now, humanity clung to the wire. After they had come so far…
Sariel sobered, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Slowly, the Challenger came to a stop, kicking up all the ash into a thick cloud around them.
Waiting until the ash settled again, Sariel turned in her seat and announced, “We’re here.”
In similar fashion, Haroth grew grim. Nodding at each of them, he said, “Cover up, and be ready for anything. Stay close, rookie.”
As commanded, Aarin wrapped his scarf around his face and pulled his hood over his head. The travel rags they wore already concealed their wings, as well as their assortment of weapons. For the moment, this was the best they could do. The fantasies had no need for disguises, as they appeared only to angels and pure-hearted humans. In the past, they had been known as “imaginary friends”.
The car, on the other hand, wouldn’t be of much use in the battle to come. It was great for transportation through the wastes, especially since it didn’t depend on fossil fuels. Being a fantasy, the Challenger literally ran on nothing but imagination. But navigating through rubble for a flying fire-breathing creature…
The Challenger revved its engine as soon as everyone got out into the ash, letting them all know what it thought about being left alone in the wastelands with a coat of white ash marring its silky black paint job. Sariel paused, pouted at the vehicle. She had chosen it as her companion years ago, and spent every moment of her free time spoiling it.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” she purred to it, patting the hood, “but you know how it is. I promise that once we get back, I’ll give you a good long bath and a wax. Alright?”
The Challenger seemed placated by that. After they pulled their walking sticks from the trunk, the car hummed and drove back out into the wasteland.
Haroth sighed. “The only thing worse than a cat is a Challenger.”
Sariel narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “You’re just jealous.”
“I believe him,” Aarin piped in, shouldering his pack.
Haroth chuckled. Whistling for the manticore, he ordered, “Justice, find.”
The lion-scorpion hybrid lifted its nose, sampling the air before trotting off into the ash. The trio of angels followed wordlessly after the creature, their playful banter left behind. They walked a long ways before reaching the first signs of civilization—or, what used to be civilization. The outer reaches of the town sported nothing but the blackened skeletons of houses. Justice led them down an old stretch of road that had fallen completely to disrepair. The pavement had been scorched in several places, between the multiple craters that marred its surface. Haroth paused at one of the craters, leaning over to investigate. He ran a finger across a scorch mark, then rubbed it between his fingers.
“Fresh,” he commented, straightening.
“The reports weren’t wrong, then,” Sariel scanned the horizon, hand on her hip.
Aarin stared ahead down the road. From where they stood, he could see the first signs of human establishment: ramshackle shacks made from whatever wasn’t burned in the dragon fire. Between them, shadowy forms stood watch.
“We have company,” Aarin warned the others. Haroth and Sariel instantly stood on edge, hands going to their weapons hidden at their sides. They didn’t ease when they followed Aarin’s gaze. The Emolga gave a little whimper, while Justice growled.
Whether they noticed or not, the humans didn’t move. They seemed to just be watching, perhaps wary of the incoming travelers. They had yet to show any aggression.
“Keep moving,” Haroth said after the moment dragged on in silence, “but stay alert.”
Humans were rarely a threat to angels, though desperation often led them to extremes. The last thing any angel wanted to do was hurt them, but… Sometimes it was necessary. Hopefully, they would just see them as innocent travelers.
They continued walking into the town. As they drew near, most of the humans retreated into their modest dwellings, though some lingered in the streets, saying nothing as they kept their steady vigil. Their pale faces were smudged with black, making the bags under their eyes almost unnoticeable. This was what Aarin hated most about visiting human establishments: seeing the hopelessness in their eyes, the shades of what they once were. Once inventive and imaginative, now they were as fearful as they were in the Dark Ages.
A bleat caught his attention. Glancing up, Aarin finally noticed a surprising amount of goats wandering freely through the streets. The young angel blinked. Was this how this village survived? Raising goats? Justice snorted at the creatures, a sudden hungry look in his eyes. Haroth gently prodded the creature with his walking stick, shaking his head. Grumbling, Justice stuck his nose to the ground again and continued tracking the dragon’s scent.
The broken road widened out into a square—or, what would have been the town’s square. There, they found the biggest crater yet, which could have held an entire football field. Pipes from the city’s old sewer system stuck out from the sides, leaking trace amounts of water into the garbage heap at the crater’s center.
Aarin narrowed his eyes. In the heap, the angel could see various items of value: cell phones, televisions, CDs and Blu-rays, and all kinds of electronics, mixed with jewelry and anything else that glittered. The trainee realized that this was no garbage heap—it was a dragon’s hoard. At the foot of it stood a pole that held aloft the likeness of a dragon’s head, crudely crafted from broken wood.
A fresh goat carcass lay strewn before it.
Beside him, Sariel and Haroth grew tense.
“Dragon worshippers,” the female angel whispered.
Aarin felt sick to his stomach. They had just met the worst case scenario—humans who had been desperate enough to submit themselves to the whims of a callous beast of darkness. He became all too aware of the wall of bodies gathering behind them, ready to defend their “patron”.
“Haroth…” Aarin warned, tightening his grip on his walking stick.
The eldest angel cursed under his breath. “Why can’t this ever be easy?”
As one, the angels threw off their disguises, revealing their celestial nature in a brilliant flash of light. The humans cried out in pain, stumbling backwards at they were blinded. With one threat eliminated, the angels didn’t stop for a moment. They immediately set to arming their weapons, knowing that the real enemy would not be long in coming. Only a dead dragon wouldn’t pick up on that released light.
Sure enough, a roar soon echoed across the skies, giving the angels pause.
“Is your weapon charged up, rookie?” Haroth grumbled, heaving his massive gun over his shoulder.
Aarin glanced down at his Emolga, who was still clinging to the harpoon gun he carried, electric pouches sparking. The squirrel Pokémon returned the look with a shake of its head. “We need more time.”
A shadow glided over the ash clouds, bringing with it another roar. This time, the sound vibrated in their bones, rumbling with the very beat of their hearts.
“Not to rush you,” said Sariel, unsheathing her sword, “but I’d really prefer not to fight this guy in the skies.”
Gritting his teeth, Aarin returned, “I realize that.”
Slipping from the ash and smoke, the dragon finally made his appearance, dropping on top of the “treasure” hoard and shaking the earth. Even in the dull light, its jagged emerald scales glinted like brilliant jewels. Its breath hissed through its teeth as it looked over them with its amber eyes. It chuckled before finally speaking to them in a deep, earth-shaking voice.
“Ah, at lasssst. It hasss been too long sssinccce I tasssssted angel fleshhhhh. Tell me,” the dragon propped itself up on one elbow. “Have you been playing nicccce with my little poppetsss?”
“We’ll erase you from their memory, demon,” Sariel hissed back, leveling her sword at the beast. “Your reign of tyranny ends now.”
The dragon hissed, looking hardly fazed or insulted by her remark. Rather, its eyes glinted with maliciousness. “A preshhhiousss lot, aren’t they? It’sss amazing what humansss will do to for a crussst of bread, a sssecond breath… Another day of living. Why, you sssee all thisss?” The dragon raked a talon across its pile of treasure. “They gathered all of thessse for me, ssso I wouldn’t burn the lassst of their preshhhious home to the ground. And the meat…” It snapped its head forward, snatching up the goat carcass left at its shrine. Once it slithered down its throat, the dragon licked the edges of its bloodied teeth. “They offer it to me daily in hopesss that I don’t eat them. It hasss been entertaining to humor their fancccies, but goat meat can be ssso bland after ssso much time. I think I’m ready for a change of diet…”
The dragon smashed its talons into the pile, breaking everything under its armored underside. “Look around you,” it roared at the angels. “Look at what you have been protecting all thisss time. Pathetic. Traitorousss. Wretched filth. Cowardsss, the lot of them. And yet, you gave them the world?”
“You’re wrong,” Haroth quietly responded. “Humans are more powerful than you can imagine. Their weakness might be great, but their strengths can be greater. I have seen them create. I have seen them grow. Even now, many are rallying together to rebuild their lives. The kind of resilience they have shown despite the tragedies your kind brought upon them inspires even us. Someday, they will become greater than angels or dragons—forever golden in the eyes of the Creator.”
Recoiling its neck, the dragon hissed. “Forever gold? Pah! I will shhhow you who isss greatessst of all Creassshhhion. All of you shhhall exsspire in my fire!”
Molten light ignited at the base of its throat, soon erupting from the serpent’s throat in a jet of white-hot flames. Aarin threw aside his harpoon gun and threw up his hands, summoning a barrier of light to protect the unconscious humans behind them. The flame bounded off the barrier, though he could still feel the wave of heat rolling over them.
Meanwhile, the rest of the crew had jumped into action. Justice rushed forward with a mighty roar of his own, raising his scorpion’s stinger above his head. His master, Haroth, had leapt to the side and was firing his Gatling gun at the creature. Modern weapons would have had no effect on the creature’s armored hide, but being an angelic weapon, the gun fired bolts of holy light. The dragon roared with pain as the light stung its side, and started flapping its wings. Sariel was there in an instant, flying around its head and slashing her sword at its eyes.
“Don’t let it get airborne, Aarin!” Haroth bellowed over the singing of his gun.
Aarin let the barrier down, glancing around for his discarded weapon. He quickly spotted his Emolga, who was trying desperately to carry the rifle-like weapon to him. Picking up both of them, the angel took to the skies.
The dragon was biting and swatting at Sariel, who was doing all she could to avoid getting hit while providing a good distraction. Haroth ran in closer, continuing to pelt the creature’s hide with light. At some point, the enemy gave up on the tiny swat flying around its face and launched itself at their leader. Holding on to the Gatling gun, Haroth took to the skies, dodging the surge of teeth and scales. However, his weapon slowed him down. He couldn’t get much distance before the dragon brought up its head and rammed him with the horn on its nose.
The elder angel was knocked back out of the sky, landing on the slope of the crater with a heavy thud.
Aarin took his shot before the dragon could finish elder angel. He yelled as the harpoon sailed through the air, lodging itself in the dragon’s wing. The electricity his Emolga had charged into it now coursed through the dragon. Its muscles seized up, causing it to fall to the ground. Slinging the empty harpoon gun across his shoulder, Aarin drew his own sword and dove down to meet the crippled enemy. Sariel quickly joined his side.
“Haroth’s fine,” she called to him. “Let’s finish this!”
With the charge gone, the dragon was slowly working through its paralysis, but its movements were sluggish. It did little against the manticore who had latched on to its arm, stinging and biting it again—filling it with additional poison. The dragon turned its head blearily to the approaching angels. Opening its maw, it aimed another stream of fire at them, but this time the Emolga reacted, erecting its own barrier of light around the angels.
When the smoke and ash cleared, the company emerged unscathed. The dragon stared down at them, its breath coming in hissing gasps.
“Why?” it asked, head drooping. “Why the humansss?”
“Because,” Aarin responded, lifting his sword above his head. Next to him, Sariel repeated the gesture, bringing the tip of her sword next to his. Together, the blades began glowing. “They are the future.”
With that, the angels leapt skyward, and plunged their weapons into the dragon’s neck.