The walls kept crumbling down on her, and Angelica could not bring her own screams to an end. The terror choked her as she felt hope slip away. She could no longer even see as her gilded tears stuck to her eyelids. Her heart was grasped and crushed, then revived by the memory of her release only to be grinded to dust by the next assault of despair, firmly clutched within this vicious cycle.

She screamed and screamed, despite everything hoping that she would be heard, but that hope would shatter, leaving her screaming for no reason whatsoever. And then hope would return and die again, feeding her perpetual agony. Suddenly there was a disturbance in her suffering. An unfamiliar sensation on her skin, warm and gentle, though wrinkled and calloused. It was strange, almost alien to Angelica, she could not recall the last time she had felt that sensation.

"Wake up, Angelica," a voice called out. It was muffled and barely tangible, yet it resounded through her entire being nonetheless, "You don't need to be afraid here. You are safe," she began to recognise the familiar abysmal accent as well as the kind warmth of the voice. She wanted to believe she was safe, but that dreadful darkness denied that notion. Yet her hope surged once again as she made her screams stop and forced her eyelids open. As though it was a miracle, before her appeared the wrinkled old face of Anderson.

"Please," she whispered, her voice shaking "don't make me go back."

"Don't worry," he smiled, and even though Angelica was aware just how pathetically weak the man was, she found reassurance in those words, "No one will make you go back," his words finally snapped Angelica back. She recalled what had happened since her release from Galileo, and realised her sudden complete loss of composure. Although she felt embarrassment, it at the very least allowed her to push back against the already receding fear.

"I…" she hesitated, unsure of what to say. She was glad that he was still here, glad that she hadn't gone back, "Thank you," eventually left her lips.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled one last time before he suddenly coughed up blood directly at Angelica’s face and collapsed. A scream sounded, through for once it did not belong to angelica. Rather it was the young Erza who Angelica just realise was standing in the doorway. The elderly woman Angelica had seen earlier was also there, looking on with great worry in her eyes.

Before Angelica could recover from her stun, Erza rushed into the room, kneeling next to the seemingly unconscious Anderson, glancing at Angelica with hate, only to remain staring in complete stun. Soon enough the angel managed to recover from her daze and realised what had happened. Divinity was leaking like a flood out of Angelica’s body, unchecked and unbound. Although it was just a leak, the sheer raw power contained within was already many times more powerful than Anderson. Because the man stood so close to her in her previous state, a significant portion of that uncontrolled and volatile power must have entered his body, reaching far beyond the point it could withstand. Angelica had to do something, she realised as she restrained the leaking power.

Just as she began to stand up, Erza seemingly recovered from the mesmerization affecting her mind. Seeing Angelica stand up she also stood up, standing in front of Anderson as she blocked Angelica’s way, also yelling something at the angel. Angelica had no idea what the woman was trying to do and also knew that there was no time for it. As gently as she could Angelica enveloped Erza in a strand of divinity and pulled her to the side, restraining her movement. Then she knelt down next to Anderson and placed her hand on his chest, trying to figure out how bad the situation was.

It had been far worse than Angelica had hoped. Anderson's heart was raptured, on the brink of bursting completely, his organs malformed and his blood vessels scattered. It was a miracle his brain did not suffer damage, though that would not last long as the damaged heart would no longer be able to send what little of his blood remained to support the consumption of the brain. If Angelica were to save him she would have to act fast. Her mind focused and time seemingly slowed down. The rapid inner bleeding in Anderson’s body slowed down to a dripping, the inevitable start of his brain’s decay was now minutes instead of seconds away, and the lack of heartbeat became a bit less disturbing. Extracting the divinity within the man would no longer be enough, Angelica needed to take drastic measures.

A memory appeared in her head, of another saint on his dying bed. He had been a man of great virtue, despite his power and status always only taking exactly as much as he needed, donating the rest of his mortal possessions to anyone in need. He had devoted his life to a pilgrimage, travelling from town to town, through rural and small villages, healing all those he met along the way. He only returned to the holy city as death was about to catch up to him. Angelica could still recall his dying rites.

But that power was not enough. It could heal what was damaged, but not restore what was lost beyond recovery. Angelica delved deeper into her mind, and another figure appeared in her eyes. Unlike most of those who she had laid to rest, this man was younger, any wrinkles barely made the way to his face, and black hair and beard still covered his weakened visage. Although relatively young, the man’s hands were shrivelled, as though he was severely malnourished or gravely ill. He never spoke a word to Angelica, but his eyes betrayed the pain he felt. Throughout both his body and his heart. Angelica had also felt some guilt over the man’s death. His power was rare, almost unique. He was able to grant immortality at the expense of his own life. His power could reforge the body into a divine object, allowing it to reach eternity, yet that act drained far more divinity than anyone who used it could ever possess, requiring a foreign supply. In the end, being a conduit for so much power destroyed the man’s body and crushed his spirit. He would not last much longer, and both he and Angelica had known that. In the end, he had never spoken as Angelica remained by his side until the very end. Just before his last breath he finally smiled, and as his suffering faded he gifted Angelica his power.

Almost no time had passed while Angelica recalled those memories. Now that she was back she knew what she had to do, but first, she needed a catalyst, something powerful enough to properly channel her divinity. Yet in such a thing would be rare even before the death of Gods, and much more after. It only took a moment before she realised she had exactly what she required within arm’s reach. The tears from her earlier collapse still remained on and around the bed, and with a slight beckon from Angelica, they gathered at a speed which defied logic, becoming a nearly perfect sphere which gently rippled on Angelica’s palm. The next moment it entered Anderson’s mouth and ventured deep into his body. That would become the core, the catalyst of his rebirth.

Angelica had to burn away everything in an instant, and then recreate it from scratch, more powerful than ever. Gilded flame spread through the inside of Anderson’s body, incinerating his blood, flesh and bones in a single moment, churning beneath his skin. The pain of this process forced the man’s mind awake as he attempted to scream, though no air could come up as he no longer possessed lungs, and that overload of sensation knocked him unconscious again the next instant. Angelica did not allow the clutching feeling in her chest to distract her as she initiated the next stage. The ash from what was burned away mixed together with that immensely dense power. The divinity was so concentrated it formed solid matter when combined with the remnants, it was as durable as the best steel, yet as flexible as rubber.

With that substance Angelica began to reform the tissue. First the bones, they glowed golden and could bear pressure unmatched even by the deepest abyssal depths of the oceans. Next came the flesh, its red hue carried a trace of yellow as it came to possess the might to bend beams of steel with ease. After that she remade his organs and veins, gilded they became undying and immortal. Next came the blood, no longer just mindlessly rushing through his body, but possessing a unified will of its own. And lastly, to finish what she started, she began to reforge the heart. Her knowledge of anatomy was not good enough to restore everything to functionality. Until then she let the skill of the long-dead saint control the process. But about the heart, she knew enough and she took full hold.

From what remained of the catalyst, of the tears she had shed, Angelica formed the crust and the walls, carefully carving out each crevice, each small detail. She had seen the hearts of many saints, and although Anderson was not as powerful as them, she felt his virtue, his faith, and deemed him equal with those she had granted their dying rights. Perhaps it was unfair that they would die and this powerless priest millennia later would be allowed to live, but Angelica did not care about such things. She focused fully on the task at hand. On the heart perfectly carved from the purest divinity. Angelica was determined that he would live, thus it would take a God to stop that from happening. With a last finishing touch it was done. Blinding light enveloped the room as Anderson was reborn.

Angelica returned to her normal state of mind, feeling the slight weakness and weariness creeping up on her mind. Even for her, accomplishing something like this was exhausting. Although it would not harm her permanently, the sheer amount of divinity she had to exhaust would require days to recover, weeks when taking the low concentration of power which permeated the air into account. As she listened to Anderson’s first few breaths a boom suddenly sounded from the side where Erza was still captured. Looking over Angelica noticed a projectile flying at her. She could dodge or stop it, but Angelica knew it could not even scratch her. Reassuring that it was not aiming for Anderson she glanced at Erza who was holding some sort of device in one hand and allowed the projectile the strike her forehead. Just as she had expected, the lead scattered to dust upon contact, not leaving even a mark behind.

Angelica was not certain what that device was or whether Erza intended to harm her, but she did not particularly care. She would let Anderson pass judgement when he woke up. Instead she decided to rest, though this time she would make sure to keep the lights on. With surprise, Angelica realised that she was no longer holding the large crimson jewel. It only took a moment to spot it beside the bed and she immediately began to reach out for the artefact, only to stop herself halfway through the motion. If Angelica touched it, she might not be able to let go again. With great exertion of her will, Angelica's hand was pulled back. As a side thought she let go of the magic restraining Erza as she sat down on the bed, purposefully as far from the jewel as possible.

She was just about to lie down, ignoring Erza who once again knelt next to Anderson, and the elderly woman who followed suit, when Angelica felt something. A source of divinity was approaching, though it was weak, Angelica could feel signs completely unlike what a human could possess. It was just like her own. She stood up again and stepped towards the door. Without a doubt, there was another angel approaching.