Constantine had to face the most powerful enemies; he had neither time nor strength to spare for the escort unit behind him.
The assault transport that had originally carried the squad had already unleashed its missile payload upon the high-ranking angels. It now followed along the remnants of the Bridge to Heaven, using its nose-mounted heavy bombarder machine guns to provide suppressive fire for the Sisterhood and special ops troops. Thanks to this, Constantine no longer needed to charge through enemy lines like a cavalryman from ancient times. He could focus entirely on his battle against foes far beyond mortal reach—foes that only a member of the Honor Guard could handle. All others present would be instantly slain. But the boy was no ordinary person. While others couldn't perceive the Honor Guard's prowess, he could see it clearly. He saw the golden halo glow behind the power armor's back, a divine radiance that cloaked Constantine's soul.
Blood-red and gold light painted the snow and altar atop Mount Fimbulwinter in a nauseating hue. The union of upper and lower planar forces, working in concert toward a common goal, was almost unheard of.
The boy could no longer stand the thought of others dying for his sake. Despite the searing headache, he drew his card and activated his power to join the fight. Tatyana gave him a glance, then silently shifted to provide him a clear firing line.
The Sisterhood didn't care whether his power would matter. What they respected was defiance. When the women of the Eternal City had pulled them out of brothels, basements, and trafficking rings, only those with the strongest fighting spirit had passed the tests to join the Sisterhood—hammered from raw iron into refined steel. The three assault transports hovered above, hunting large targets. Every step forward toward the summit exacted a heavy toll. The barrels of the heavy bombarder turrets glowed red-hot from the relentless firing.
Then, orange-red sparks flared again in the sky—more assault transports emerged from portals.
Bayonetta and Balder leapt from one of them. Witch and Sage wasted no time, diving into the fray. Balder fought the demons of the lower planes; Bayonetta engaged the angels of the upper realms. The new transports joined the formation and began pouring fire onto high-value targets atop the Bridge to Heaven. The Sisterhood and special ops team felt the pressure lift—they immediately moved to escort the boy toward Constantine, who had been waiting at the summit for several seconds. In that brief span, he had slain a high-ranking seraph taller than himself. Bayonetta and Balder rushed to join him, crashing into the summit shielded by magical wards.
This was the final stretch of the Bridge to Heaven. They encountered no resistance here. Ancient carvings and statues lined the tunnel, telling the story and purpose of this sacred altar. Technically, the mountain's shifting structure should've caused it to collapse, but not even the bunker-buster bombs had managed to damage it—just skewed some of the steps. Clearly, some foreign force was working to maintain this place's integrity.
The siege guns in Noahdun continued pounding the area. Within the tunnel, everyone could hear the distant, thunderous booms like the voice of a slumbering god. Before entering, they'd all seen swarms of flying creatures shredded under intense bombardment—but everyone knew such firepower couldn't last forever. The shelling had already begun to thin.
When the supply trucks ran dry, the extra-dimensional creatures would flood downhill. Bayonetta had already reviewed the battlefield intelligence. She knew that the anti-air emplacements wouldn't be enough to stop them.
"Kid," she said, nodding at the boy, just in case seeing the Sage triggered a reaction. She wasted no time and turned to Constantine with a firm question. "Where is he?"
"I am not authorized to disclose the Lord's movements. Not even to you," Constantine replied stiffly. "The Monarch only promised he would arrive."
"Fine. Don't waste time," Balder growled. His expression was grim. He knew what lay ahead—his first time-travel drop-off point had been here. He gave the boy a glance, then ran toward the great stone gate at the tunnel's end. Bayonetta signaled Constantine and the strike team to follow, then chased after Balder.
The Prophet was already waiting.
The moment the Sage and Witch stepped out of the gate, they were assaulted by a horde of extra-dimensional creatures. Constantine stood at the vanguard of the strike team, carving a path through the mass of monstrous entities. The Sisterhood and special ops troops responded with blistering volleys of bullets. Every inch of terrain was packed with nightmarish beasts of all shapes and sizes. Weapons and limbs lashed at them from all sides. Meanwhile, the assault transports were still engaged outside, unable to penetrate the mass encircling the summit. No support fire could reach them now. Progress slowed, then stopped entirely. They stood in place as the corpses beneath them piled higher.
"What do you want to do now?" Constantine shouted over comms to the boy. "Speak! We don't have time!"
"I…"
"Welcome, my other half. My brother," the Prophet said slowly. He showed no concern for the blood angels and demons shed for him, nor did the thunderous gunfire seem to touch him. "We were once whole. But this 'half' of us… he wished to awaken humanity's kindness. So he split our power in two. We were meant to be mirrors. But this 'half'… he gave up his divine power, the Monarch's power, to preserve the balance of this world. That power is what controls the Eyes of the World. Unfortunately, he made a grave mistake… He didn't foresee how humanity's evil would grow stronger with prosperity. While I cannot control the Eyes without the Monarch's power, I used humanity's malice to reclaim the might of the Ancient Gods… The power of the Umbran Witch, the Left Eye of Darkness, and the Lumen Sage, the Right Eye of Light. Now, I shall claim the final piece—the Monarch's power. My other half's power."
The Prophet's rambling did nothing to obscure his intentions. Everyone present understood clearly. Surrounded by monstrous beings, he moved toward the Sage, the Witch, and the boy protected by the strike team. Only they—and Constantine—posed any real threat to him. The Prophet didn't even glance at the Sisterhood or special ops soldiers. Gods do not fear ants—until a high-powered plasma shot slapped him in the face.
His expression changed visibly—from aloof calm, to disbelief, and finally, seething rage.
"You dare—!"
"I've never seen anyone so damn full of themselves," said a young man in the special ops unit, his voice trembling with both fear and defiance. He had fired that shot. While others froze under the Prophet's suffocating aura, his was the first bullet of rebellion. Even Balder cast him a look of disbelief.
"There are still people calling themselves gods?" the young soldier scoffed, half-laughing, half-broken. "Haven't you heard? Earthlings beat gods before. Every self-proclaimed god is either overdosed or born stupid. Which are you? It's just death. I've done enough wrong in Afghanistan—I should've died long ago."
"Well done, Andrew," the Prophet growled, revealing the soldier's name.
"Well done, Andrew." But when another voice echoed those words, they held a completely different weight. The young special ops soldier felt an inexplicable warmth and strength surge within him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a golden light shining. The frozen blood in his veins began to flow again. Some kind of impulse took hold of him—an irrepressible urge to run toward that light.
"Brave soldier, you have fulfilled your duty. Now, let me take over."
(End of Chapter)
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