Marion moved to the window, avoiding the ward Thomas had drawn. She looked down, then stepped back.

  "They finally show their faces," she said quietly. "And they know we are here. It seems like we're their top priority."

  "Wait. Who are those people?" Alex asked, leaning into the window.

  "Whoever's behind this. Or on the side of the demons. Let's say... they are cultists. And see? There are at least six of them. And from the dark presence I feel, I am sure one of them must be a summoner."

  "Cultists?" Alexander stood, ignoring Sandra's protest. "Human cultists? So it's true, huh?"

  "I'm sure of it now. There is an organized group, a secret society, or perhaps a loose network—who knows? But they are on the same side as those entities." Marion gripped her staff. "Sean, lights off. Everyone be quiet."

  Sean closed his laptop, and Sandra killed the single lamp Alexander had on.

  Alexander looked through the window. Six figures stood in the street, looking at the building. They wore dark robes, shielding their faces, but from the pale lights on the street, he could see that their faces were covered. One of them looked up, revealing a European carnival mask, mouth turned downward as if in a pout.

  They had come to his apartment. As if hunting him and his friends.

  The one in front raised their hands and spoke. The words carried up to the apartment, and Alexander's vision swam when he heard them. It sounded like Enochian, but hearing those words felt like hearing something evil and dark. Darkness pressed around them in a very real way.

  "They’re calling something," Samantha whispered. "Something bigger than the shoggoths."

  Marion nodded. "They should have a hard time coming in. Thomas's sigils should stop them."

  Thomas let out a long sigh, hand still moving chalk across the wall. “I have a feeling that they’re gonna be more powerful than that.”

  Thomas finished the last symbol and stepped away from the window frame. The chalk lines sharpened, their glow tightening until they looked hot enough to burn through the glass behind them.

  Marion's eyes drifted toward Thomas.

  "You're pulling the old choir."

  "They're the only ones that respond fast enough," Thomas said.

  The apartment grew still. Light bled from the sigils beneath, white and gold, rising up like smoke. Alex felt something, a soothing feeling of peace that settled against the darkness carried by the cultists outside.

  The lights twisted until they folded into humanoid shapes.

  Alex watched numbers popping up next to Thomas.

  [ANGELIC SUMMONING]

  [THOMAS:

  [MANA: 800 → 300]

  Alex cocked his head, watching Thomas's stats display in front of him.

  The shapes had taken form. Men with long silver hair, figures glowing, four wings extending from each of their backs and golden spears in their hands.

  Alex would've fallen on his back if his body had remembered how to move.

  Those were angels. Actual angels standing, or rather, floating before his eyes.

  The shapes stepped forward and phased through the broken window frames. Their descent left streaks of pale afterglow in the air.

  The cultists noticed. Who wouldn't? They raised their hands, stained dark.

  And suddenly, a circle of dark red light blazed around them.

  The angels struck it, as if it were a solid wall.

  Black light dashed from a cultist's palm toward the second angel, stabbing him and pulling him off course. The angel rolled as if struck and hit the ground, flames erupting on his robes.

  "That's bad," Marion hissed.

  Flares of red light flashed and struck the angels, one by one, lighting them up in flames.

  The angels flickered, struggling to remain, their figures slowly fading as if crushed by interference.

  Those... sorcerers downstairs were basically casting fireballs.

  Alexander swallowed hard and stared at Thomas.

  "They're stronger than we thought," the priest replied. "We'll have to face them up close."

  Marion nodded sharply. "Alright. Samantha, let's go—"

  "I'm coming with you," Alex said.

  Marion's glance shifted toward him, stern but filled with concern. "You're not. You're wounded and untrained. Yes, you have potential, but you need a lot of training."

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "This is my building." Alex grabbed his axe from where he'd dropped it. He didn't care how big their power was in evil. He would defend his home, no matter what. "And I'm not hiding while people fight for me."

  Marion looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Your ancestor was stubborn too. Got him in trouble more than once." She turned to Samantha. "Keep him alive. If he tries anything stupid, tie him up."

  "With pleasure," Samantha said.

  They rushed down the stairs, past the bound creature, into the gym. The front windows were all broken, letting in the sounds of the dying city. The cultists were chanting now, all together, their voices building.

  One of them stood forward, and Alexander could see a reddish aura forming around them. The air above rippled, and something started to push through. Something flared in the center, black, from nothing, from the spaces between spaces.

  "What the hell is that?"

  Despite the question, Alexander guessed what was about to happen. They were doing the equivalent of what Thomas had done—but from the other side.

  "You see," Marion muttered. "They're trying to bring something through right here, right now. If they succeed—"

  The blackness in front of them took form, a humanoid shape, but more than ten feet tall. Its head was more skull than flesh, with eyes that burned like embers. It carried an actual sword, six feet of black metal that steamed in the air. There was something bird-like about its claws, and wings with black feathers spread behind its back.

  The cultists cheered. The one ahead of the group, the summoner, pointed at the building. The demon looked up at them with those burning eyes, then whirled its black sword.

  Then it smiled, pulling barely visible flesh over receding gums. Text flared next to it.

  [RAKSHASA]

  [HP: 540]

  Alex had heard that name in world religion class, and an old copy of the ancient hindu epic, the Ramayana.

  "Rakshasa," Thomas said. "A hybrid human-vulture demon from the Vedic tradition. This is very bad."

  The demon took a step toward the building. Then another. The cultists followed, spreading out.

  "Alright," Marion said. "Let's go deal with them."

  Marion stepped through the broken door into the dark street. Alex followed, feeling vulnerable even with the axe in hand.

  Every eye fixed on them. And at that moment, Alex took a few seconds to look at his neighborhood.

  Not even his imagination could have conjured such a terrible state. Outside his apartment window's visual field, things were even worse. A handful of cars had stopped in the middle of the street; others had crashed into each other. And he swore there were dead bodies inside. Even on the street, far away, he could still see tiny creatures huddled on a human body, like rats devouring someone.

  And the few businesses around had been ransacked by demons. Broken glass filled every window, and the apartment buildings nearby were silent and empty.

  It was scary to think that even the screaming had stopped.

  A massacre had happened right in his very street. And he hadn’t been there to save them.

  This was merely hours after all this had started.

  Marion planted her staff in the ground, as loud as a hammer. Alex was pulled back into the fray.

  The woman spoke a single word in Enochian. Light flared from the staff, forming a line across the street, like a force field of white light.

  [SKILL: BARRIER OF LIGHT]

  [MARION: Mana 1100 → 980]

  The demon stopped right in front of the barrier. It tried to step through it, but the skin of its flesh began to hiss, and it stepped back as if in shock. Then it proceeded to test the barrier with its sword. Blinding sparks flew.

  "I am Marion Cromwell," Marion said. "Priestess of the Old Ways, guardian of this world. And you are not welcome here!"

  The summoner laughed—a woman's voice, muffled by the Eyes Wide Shut-type mask. "The Old Ways are a bad, forgotten joke anyway, witch. Your puny threshold means nothing against the wave of power that has come to wash away your world."

  Marion smirked.

  "Then cross my line and prove it."

  The summoner pointed. The demon raised its sword, grunted inhumanly, its muscular torso straining, then brought down the blade, striking the light as if taking down barbed wire, and brought it down. The impact shook the street. Marion grunted, shifted her grip on the staff. The barrier recovered immediately.

  "Samantha," Marion whispered. "It's a distraction. You guys can deal with the cultists, right?"

  Samantha suddenly turned, looking at Alexander in the eyes, with an intense stare. "Can you fight?"

  "I killed three of those things already."

  "You killed the lowest-ranking creatures of the abyss. These are cultists. They're human. Can you kill a human?"

  Alex hesitated for a moment, but thinking of the dead people on the streets wiped away every inch of hesitation. "If they're causing all of this? Yes."

  "Good enough." Samantha pulled two bowie knives, one in each hand. "Stay close. Watch your corners. If I say run, you run. Understand?"

  "Understood."

  The cultists were focused on Marion and the demon, making mudras with their stained hands and mumbling words in ancient tongues. The white barrier was weakening, and Alexander could see it flickering, thinning. The demon struck again and again with its black sword, and cracks appeared in the light.

  "Run," Samantha hissed. "You take left; I take right."

  He nodded. His hands were steady now. The fear had burned away, leaving cold determination.

  Samantha began to run and covered the distance in seconds. The cultist stared, shifted, and made a mudra with their hand. A ray of red light hurled toward her. She dodged, closing in and driving the knife through his chest. The cultist gasped, then fell to his knees.

  Alexander went for the second one. The cultist turned and summoned another magic flare. Alexander dodged. It wasn't that hard; he got close and drove his axe up under the ribs. The cultist made a wet sound and collapsed in pain before the axe swung again at his neck.

  The remaining cultists had noticed, but they kept concentrating on their magic spells. One pointed at them, shouting words in an arcane language.

  Samantha raced toward them. Alexander followed.

  The third cultist pulled a gun. That made Alexander grit his teeth. Fighting those jerks with sharp weapons was one thing, but guns were another. To his shock, Samantha threw one of her knives. It hit the cultist in the throat, and he went down gurgling.

  The fourth charged Alexander with a machete, swinging wildly. Alexander stepped inside the arc, blocked the arm, and drove his elbow into the cultist's face. The man dropped the machete, stepping back with a face flushed with blood. Alexander picked it up and swung at him, his mind blank.

  The cultist collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his torso, gurgling. Alexander stepped back.

  He had just killed two men.

  Was there any time for guilt? His mind reeled, stress and adrenaline mixing with pain.

  This was not the time to stop and think. He was protecting people. This was some kind of war between good and evil, and he was now a part of it.

  Now, there were two left: the summoner and the demon.

  The summoner was backing away, hands still glowing red. The skull-faced demon roared, turned from Marion's barrier, flapped its black wings, and flew toward Samantha and Alexander, sword flailing and trailing black smoke.

  "Run!" Samantha grabbed Alexander's arm and yanked him back.