***The City of Light***

***Angrod***

After equipping ourselves, we return to the command centre.

Thanks to the efforts of my minions, Celes and I look like a matching pair. The only difference is my organic enchantment, which I adjusted to complement the armour. Primarily the gloves, but also other parts of my equipment merge seamlessly with the reinforced metal of my armour which makes it easier to cast spells and to control my weapons.

Celes is still sticking to her old ways, relying purely on her hand to hand combat skills. Which doesn't mean that she is unprepared. Hidden behind her back, she still has the set of daggers which I made for her.

Given her reluctance to use them, I have to remember to gift her armour and utility equipment instead of weapons in the future. I have to admit that having a weapon is a useless fancy for someone with enough strength to bend steel with her bare fingers and throw anything with enough force to turn it into a deadly projectile.

It takes a few minutes of silent waiting while we let our soldiers do the fighting, but finally one of Arthur's subordinates gives us the announcement we were waiting for.

“The troops cleared an area around the dome and judge it to be safe enough. They are now entering, but there is heavy resistance. Drem thinks it would be okay if you follow on their heels while they are advancing... That's just if it's true that every second counts,” the female officer adds after a moment of consideration.

She bows to me, clearly intimidated by my presence.

Celes hugs me, giving me an encouraging squeeze. “Don't do anything stupid!” After a few seconds, she lets go of me and I kiss her forehead.

“I promise,” I comfort her, not wanting to waste one of those rare moments when it feels like we are truly Johann and Sandra once more.

Then I look at the guy at the teleportation controls. “Get us down there!”

>>

Celes, Nicosar, Arthur and I re-materialize on an open plaza in front of the main entrance to the central dome. A quick look at the dead bodies and the destruction tells me that the battle must have been brutal. The ground is littered with the corpses of fallen soldiers and there doesn't seem to be a meter of unmarred ground. The buildings look like they were under heavy bombardment for months. Only the dome was spared according to our instructions.

From the looks of it, there are just as many of our men, clad in the black and white uniforms of the northern military, as there are Meltheim loyalists, recognizable by their grey combat suits.

Arthur wasn't kidding when he mentioned that he saw to it that only seasoned veterans with the right mindset would be taking part in breaking the City of Light's defenses.

I notice Drem who awaits us at the entrance to the dome. The big bear-like fellow waves us in. “Hurry, you can never know if there are still snipers out here.”

I walk up to him and enter the dome. “How is the situation?”

“We cleared the area and took control of most of the dome, but there are several layers of safety doors. We broke through three so far and encountered heavy resistance. At the fourth, we are at a stalemate. There are some really strong people protecting it. I already lost more than a few men to them.” Drem leads us through a labyrinth of corridors while explaining the situation, his steps fast but measured.

“Is it possible those last defenders are the remaining nobles from Tulhelm and Meltheim?” Celes asks with a curious voice.

“It's likely, but we couldn't confirm it. I saw one of them fighting with his bare hands, crushing my people. That meets the criteria for one of the Meltheim brothers. The issue is that they all wear hooded robes and are masked like some kind of cultists.” Drem snorts with an expression of disdain. “A few years with complete control over the city brought them over the edge.”

We pass three big blast-doors on our way into the dome.

At a fourth, Drem's people are having what looks at first glance like a good old gunfight.

The soldiers are taking cover to the sides of the door and behind whatever they managed to use as cover.

“I am sorry, but we couldn't break the stalemate until now. We tried to enter twice, but got crushed both times,” Drem apologizes. “I am currently waiting for another platoon of reinforcements, which should be here in a few minutes.”

“If we have a few minutes. Let me take a look.” I walk up to a guy who is crouching next to the door and hurling fireballs into the space beyond.

I pat his shoulder and he looks up to me. A wave of my hand is enough to signal him that I need some space. He steps to the side and I go to my knees, taking a quick look around the corner.

Right after jerking my head back immediately, a few bullets cut through the air where my face had been a moment ago. “About twenty people with guns behind barricades. Four, who look like casters are holding the shield spells and about ten guys in robes in the back who look like the leaders.”

“They already got three of our best shooters. Placed the bullets right between their eyes. Even the new automatic healing devices don't help against that. Either you are fast in taking cover or you are dead,” the soldier who made space for me grimaces in pain.

There is no need to ask why the man is troubled. Given the number of dead men on the ground, I can imagine the reason for his feelings.

I look at the grenades on his belt. “Give me those.”

He looks down at himself. “Those don't help. They modified their shields so that anything that impacts them bounces off.” He nonetheless hands me the explosives.

After I have them, I unplug their safety mechanisms and look at the soldiers. “I will teleport inside and start a distraction. As soon as you hear the explosions, you guys storm the room.”

The soldiers nod and Celes starts punching the wall a few feet to the left of the entrance to the dome's inner sanctum. Each hit creates a small crater in the concrete. “I will make a new entrance here, so follow me as soon as the action starts.” She grins maniacally and continues to weaken the wall in preparation for her grand entrance.

Arthur lifts an eyebrow and kicks the wall at another spot lightly, his bloodline affinity more than enough to do the job. “The more entrances for our soldiers, the better.”

I was born into a family of brutes...

“I will take the main-entrance and draw their fire! The day I sneak through a self-dug hole is far in the future!” Nicosar seems to be undisturbed and lifts a gun in each hand.

I nod at everyone and teleport, reappearing close to the dome's ceiling right above the enemies. While I start falling, I throw the grenades and two fireballs before I teleport again.

Reappearing behind the enemy, I take cover behind a pedestal which was apparently some kind of stage at some point. Hurling a lightning spell at the enemies to get their attention, I activate the set of swords which was incorporated into the back of my armour.

Jumping onto the pedestal, I instruct the weapons to orbit around me while I prepare the flashiest spell I know. Light dances between the tips of my fingers as I simultaneously raise a barrier and unleash a storm of popping fireworks and fiery sound effects while I fight to keep the mocking grin off my face as the grenades from earlier rain down on the defenders.

They bounce off their shield, just as the soldier warned, but their explosions lend credence to my ploy.

Screaming in alarm, more than half of the defenders turn to face the mage who is presumably about to cast a strategic-class spell right into their midst.

Dropping the illusion, I dive back into hiding as bullets graze off my personal shield just as my people make their move and break through the wall, now taking considerably less fire than would have otherwise been the case.

Immediately, the dome is turned into a hell of bullets and explosions.

Everything turns into chaos as our people storm the enemy and there is no more time to dawdle around as one of the hooded figures disappears and reappears right in front of me.

A fist punches through my shield and impacts my chest, causing me to I stumble backwards. Thankfully, most of the power was absorbed by my shield and armour or this would have hurt.

“Long time no see. I hope you can remember me!” The figure uncovers his face.

Sarda! I grin at him. “Did you join the priesthood? Did you willingly abandon all worldly desires while you rub one off to the tune of a sinner's confession?”

His eyes cloud over and he loses his self-righteous smile, clearly having trouble with deciphering my words. Then his expression turns enraged after having used all his mental capacity to get my meaning. “Insolence! You will come to fear the one true god too! Once he enters this world the people who don't believe in him will burn!”

As his expression turns from an enraged madness to a truly insane one, I actually get a little worried about the mental state of these people. When I interrogated the men who attacked my coronation, I got disturbing reports about the way life is handled within the City of Light. Back then, it didn't sound like the Meltheims truly believed in their scheme, so I assumed that they were just trying to cow the civilians who remained within the city.

Now, it looks like they started believing in their own propaganda.

I purse my lips in disgust. Even as a god, I was never so far gone that I would truly buy into my own propaganda, even though the Council practically forced the role on me. In fact, due to my fervent belief in knowledge, I was disgusted by myself for spreading any form of religion. Certainly not one that paints me as some heavenly being that has to be worshipped by the mortals.

“It looks like you guys locked yourselves up for far too long. Some screws came loose in your head.”

Sarda screams and draws a sword. Then he jumps at me and I dodge.

Elsewhere, I can see Celes, Arthur, and Nicosar fighting with other hooded figures while Drem and his men take on the Meltheim's soldiers in a messy melee.

I evade another strike and a clumsy slash before realize that Sarda didn't really get better in all those years. Didn't he have any opponents to fight while he was playing the cult-leader? Though, it seems like he got the mana treatment. He channels mana to enhance his body, wasting most of it in the process.

Thankfully, I anticipated that and saw to it that we also got a little charge up.

My personal armours are actually constantly converting mana from a small power cell and infusing it into the wearer's body. A little piece of technology which I stole the idea for from an advanced world whose people liked to play with power suits.

Sarda jabs his sword at me again and again as he tries to dodge past the blades which I use to keep him at a distance. His speed increases, putting actual pressure on me until I decide that enough is enough.

I cast a fireball directly into his face. The strong aura he emits protects him but he is blinded for a second.

Redirecting one of my orbiting blades, I stab it right through his knee, causing him to fall. Using the chance, I twist the sword out of his hand and nail him to the floor.

His eyes widen when he witnesses my menagerie of blades turning to point at him while floating forward.

“Feels like old times, doesn't it? I already nailed you to the floor once, and you haven't learned anything from it.”

He grins stupidly at me, manic fervour apparent in his eyes. “Yeah, feels familiar, but you will still lose in the end.”

Frowning and a little mad at his utter refusal to acknowledge the situation, I bring down all my blades with a gesture. Twenty four enchanted steel-blades sink into his flesh, turning him into a pincushion and killing him instantly. The runes on the weapons start glowing as they absorb the power within his body and by capturing his soul, they take on a green sheen.

There is no joy in tormenting a misguided being like him. Better not to waste any time and be done with it quickly. The last life in his eyes fades and I pull the blades out of him, returning them to a defensive position around me.

Taking another look around the room, I see that the chaos has lightened up a little. Most of the Meltheims' followers are down, but six of the hooded figures are still fighting. Their strength makes it impossible for our regular soldiers to engage, which leaves them no choice but to evade and take shots at a distance while trying to chop down their opponent's personal shields bit by bit.

Celes's ability to go toe to toe with the enemy and win is the only thing that allows our men their strategy, as the rebels have to be careful not to be caught by my partner.

Just at that moment, one of our men manages to stun an enemy with a smoke grenade, which Celes immediately capitalizes on. She rushes forward with a burst of speed, actually leaking a small amount of her aura as she slams into her opponent.

Finally having caught one, she grabs his ankle and swings him around, smashing the guy into the ground like a doll. He is struggling, but can't put up any fight as she uses him like a flail to attack another robed figure, somehow managing to stick her feet to the ground despite the impossibility of the involved physics.

Arthur is surrounded by two enemies while he is using the feet of a previous opponent as clubs, sending droplets of blood everywhere. It seems his first victim got the doubtful honour of being torn apart to serve as a weapon. The sight actually stuns me, as I have never seen my father in law letting loose like that.

Nicosar is... tanking two opponents. They are hacking with their weapons at his mangled body while it keeps trying to reform, horror twisting their faces.

“Just Die!” “Zombie!” “Unholy Monster!”

Seeing a good chance to intervene when I get it served on a silver platter, I gather all the power I can muster and throw a lightning spell at them. The spell hits the first opponent, then arcs down to Nicosar's body before jumping to the second opponent. Then it arcs back to the first, connecting all three of them in a triangle-shaped arc of lightning plasma.

I mercilessly keep channelling the spell until I am sure that I fried them all together with the geezer.

They were too occupied to mind me. It's wonderful if I don't have to worry about friendly fire and can let loose with the more problematic combat spells!

Once their colour turns a crispy brown, I release the spell and watch out for the next target of opportunity while the charred corpses crumble on top of Nicosar's blackened body.

When I look for my wife, there is nothing more to do. The one who was unlucky enough to be Celes's opponent is just a bloody mess by now.

Arthur has dealt with his own opponents, the surviving soldiers having sniped them from the side. My father in law caught a lone survivor at the neck. “Look who we have here! Odlef Meltheim. He looks a little mangled, but I am sure it's him.”

The man struggles but can't break free, having both his legs bent in an unnatural way. “The god will punish you all! He will clean this foul world!”

Arthur shakes the guy a little and then the man actually starts sobbing.

“They really went insane,” Arthur complains. “I hope it hasn't something to do with our bloodline. It sickens me to think that I share blood with this man, however distant the relationship may be.”

At last, I can take the time to have a close look at the inside of the dome.

It's completely empty, except for the barricades and the stage in the back. It must have been some kind of festivity hall in the past, but everything was cleared out to make room for the ritual circle on the floor.

The whole thing takes up an area of about half a football field and was engraved into the ground, then lined with metal to ensure that no casual misstep can interrupt the spell. Due to the amount of power which was forced into the self-containing spell, the metal glows with white fluorescent light. Inside the circle, directly at dome's centre, is an altar with a box.

Two soldiers are already in the process of securing it, one of them peeking inside without touching anything.

Thankfully, they aren't trying to mess with it. I would have had a heart attack if people without the proper knowledge started picking at the circle or anything remotely related to it.

Suddenly, a mad grin creeps over the soldier's face.

“There is only one true god! All who are unworthy must die!” He lifts his gun and shoots his comrade right in the chest, killing him. Then he turns the gun in my direction and I instinctually throw myself to the ground.

My men react and a storm of bullets punches more holes into the man than I can count.

Another soldier proves himself by coming to the right conclusion. In a world of magic, traps which mess with the mind aren't uncommon. There are no combat veterans who have not encountered their fair share of them.

He drops his weapons and runs up to the chest while shielding his eyes. Reaching it, he closes the lid and then lifts his hands, turning away from the artefact. “I am not insane! Don't shoot!”

I just love it when I get to work with people who actually know what they are doing and care to use their heads. Though, the guy shouldn't have gotten caught in a mind-trap.

While I get back to my feet, combat healers enter the dome to tend to the wounded.

Seeing that Drem is already organizing everything, I walk up to the altar and take a close look at the connections between the altar and the summoning circle, then at the altar itself. It seems to play some kind of central role in the formation of the spell.

“So that's the seed of the problem.” Celes joins me and takes a look at the chest, picking it up and shaking it before I can stop her…

I gape at her very scientific methods! “You could have blown all of us up! Or have gotten yourself brainwashed!”

“Seems like nothing is in there.” She crushes the chest between her hands. Only some magical sparks and a pitiful sizzling escapes the dying artefact before it's useless trash. “Give me some credit. I may not be able to cast spells, but I am godly at sensing energy. There was no connection between the chest-trap and the circle.”

“Gah!” I wring my hands. This could have gone wrong so many ways, but it's useless to complain about spilled milk when there are so many things to do.

Like preventing a hostile god from entering this world.

Arthur comes up to us, dragging the sobbing Odlef like a child. “He said that the box contained the 'message' from this Tjenemit.”

Nicosar joins us, picking away at his clothes while glaring at me. “Did you have to do that?”

“Did you enjoy being clubbed to death over and over?” I riposte. “Death by lightning may be unpleasant, but it's one of the better ways to sign out.”

Ignoring him, I walk in a circle around the altar, then I take out a knife and start cutting some of the finer connections of the glowing metal. Insane box or not, we have to stop the ritual.

“How does it look, Angrod?” Celes asks while looking over my shoulder.

I continue prodding the altar wherever it looks safe enough, but after a minute I have to admit that dismantling the ritual and bleeding the stored energy into the surroundings might be impossible without doing major damage.

“Bad.”

Suddenly, Odlef pulls a knife out of his tunic and cuts his wrist before I can stop him. He flails wildly while wrestling with Arthur, spraying blood all over the floor.

The altar starts pulsating and Odlef begins screaming. “The god is coming! The god is coming to cleanse this world!”

Fuck! Was the blood some kind of catalyst? I kick the altar, chipping off a piece of it. The only response is that the runes on it flare up angrily, giving off a buzzing sound.

“Wow! Don't do that again!” Arthur complains while holding down the mad cultist.

I shrug my shoulders. “It seems that produces at least a reaction! The blood somehow activated the ritual.”

Deciding that we are out of time for fancy solutions, I kick the altar with my full strength while channelling magic through my body. The damned thing splits apart but the circle keeps pulsing with a white light.

“Shit! If I just had time to take a closer look at this.”

I suddenly come to the unpleasant realization that we were too late. We are out of time and out of options.

Suddenly, reality seems to distort and a shock wave blasts us out of the circle while all the power rushes towards the ritual's centre, forming into a figure made out of silver light.

“Well, well. Look at this. Who would have thought that Seria was able to drag a whole world into her Void Zone?” A disembodied voice chuckles.

I try to get back to my feet, cursing my bad luck as I witness the figure materializing into Tjenemit. He wears a white tunic and a fitting sash with swirly ornaments around his hips. His tanned skin is as perfect as ever. The only difference from my memories is that he allowed his hair to grow out to finger length, compared to the short-cropped brush which I remember.

Odlef got free from his shackles and somehow managed to crawl halfway towards Tjenemit. “God! Heal me! Punish the heretics!”

The poor fool is completely brainwashed.

“You are annoying, whoever you are.” Tjenemit waves his hand dismissively at Odlef and the poor idiot is blown away and strikes the wall of the dome, going 'splat' like an insect.

Looking up, Tjenemit curls down the corners of his lips. “This blocks my view.”

The dome blasts apart like a tent carried away by the wind. Now free of the hindrance that obstructed his view, the god lifts a few feet into the air and turns in a circle, studying his surroundings while paying the mortals no heed.

Someone grabs me and pulls me to my feet. It's Arthur. “What can we do? Is that the real power of a god?”

I wince. “He hasn't even started yet.”

Celes joins my side, thankfully uninjured. “We take cover and hope that he doesn't step on us.”