White wings spread wide cast a dark shadow beneath the warm light, and Pegasus let out an excited neigh. Tucking in its wings and kicking hard with its hooves, it began to accelerate. Solomon leaned into the holy spear, and in a flash, its sharp tip pierced through a bird-like demon called Wrath and a humanoid seraph known as Joy. He lifted both high overhead and tossed them aside, leaving them to be trampled into mush by the tide of extra-dimensional creatures. Pegasus did not slow; Solomon continued to swing his spear, clearing the path, a river of blood flowing beneath their hooves. When he finally carved a bloody path through the horde of angels and demons and reached the altar, he galloped straight at the Prophet, spear tip aimed squarely at his head.
The Prophet opened his arms to the incoming onslaught. "Come now, Right Eye of Light, Left Eye of Darkness. It's time to return to your master," he said. "And you, sorcerer. Kamar-Taj did cause me some trouble. By mortal standards, you've done well."
Constantine spun his polearm wide, protecting the strike team as they advanced down the blood-soaked path Solomon had carved toward the Prophet.
With Solomon's arrival, the strike team's morale was inexplicably uplifted, especially among the Sisterhood. They were elated, some even abandoning personal defense, hurling themselves with bombards and chainswords at the enemy, desperate to destroy humanity's foes as quickly as possible. Their sheer ferocity even made Balder pause—he deliberately moved in front of the strike team, shielding them from enemies Constantine couldn't handle, while Bayonetta guarded them along the corpse-lined road.
The boy clutched his trump card tightly—the one thing capable of destroying the Prophet, his other half. It bore half the power of the chaos god Asa. Though it could very well kill him, he couldn't allow the sacrifices of others to be in vain. He had to end this.
The Prophet casually dodged the holy spear. Stars exploded under Pegasus' hooves.
But Pegasus scoffed at such tricks. It beat its wings and soared into the sky, evading the solar heat and radiation erupting from below. Like a seabird diving for prey, Pegasus folded its wings and plunged down. Solomon, already chanting during the ascent, thrust the holy spear as they descended. The spear shattered the Prophet's defensive spells and aimed straight for his chest—until several translucent blue arms caught the spear mid-flight.
"You dare…" the Prophet growled at Solomon, eyes furious.
Taking that blow had not been easy for him.
Solomon was no stranger to dark magic or the unorthodox use of common spells. At that moment, serpents exuding corrupt magic had wound tightly around the Prophet's legs, injecting venom. Though it didn't significantly affect the Prophet, the sheer surprise left him vulnerable. Solomon had no regard for chivalry; he fought as cruelly as necessary. For someone who still fancied himself a god, it was hard to accept—after all, nothing like this had happened during the first god-slaying movement. But the Prophet wouldn't dare say such things aloud; even victory couldn't spare him from eternal ridicule if he did.
"Again, Pegasus," Solomon commanded softly.
Pegasus reared and stomped the Prophet hard into the ground. When the Prophet tried to rise, Pegasus returned and slammed him aside. The holy spear plunged down, impaling the Prophet and pinning him to the floor. From a nearby portal, Lady Butterfly emerged halfway and looked down at the Prophet. Solomon withdrew the spear, and Lady Butterfly took her chance—her punches shattered the Prophet and the altar beneath him.
"Hurry, boy!" Constantine shifted aside to let the strike team through.
The Sisterhood rushed forward with the boy, escorting him to Solomon and Pegasus' side. Solomon fended off encroaching extra-dimensional creatures, giving the boy the opening to throw his card—the one imbued with half the power of chaos god Asa.
But just then, the Prophet, previously unconscious, stretched out both hands. One caught Lady Butterfly's fist; the other seized the card.
Before anyone could react, he laughed.
"Did you forget my words, brother?" the Prophet said lightly. "I'm stronger now."
The boy froze in shock as an unseen force dragged him toward the Prophet. In a blink, the Prophet reappeared at the other side of the altar, gripping the boy by the throat. Bayonetta and Balder tried to rush to his aid—but Solomon and Pegasus blocked their path. Bayonetta was confused at first but soon understood why.
The boy, powerless before the Prophet, was being absorbed. The once-dualistic forces instantly merged, and the original power of chaos god Asa pulled irresistibly on her Left Eye. Balder, too, struggled as the light of the Right Eye was torn from him, flowing toward the Prophet.
"Is Kamar-Taj still in control now?" Bayonetta asked, displeased.
"Don't worry. This is a necessary step," Solomon replied with a nod. Whether it was the benevolent or malevolent side of chaos god Asa, both needed to be destroyed. His personal feelings didn't matter.
Only through Asa's complete annihilation could the Eyes of the World be neutralized. Balder clearly distrusted Solomon, but even the Sage had to admit that proximity to the Prophet was now deadly. Solomon took advantage of the Prophet's ecstasy at regaining power to ask Bayonetta and Balder to stand down. He wasn't ready to play his trump card just yet—the principle of a time loop required that certain key nodes remain unchanged. After awakening, he had discussed the matter with the Ancient One. He watched as the Ancient One instructed his past self to join this mission, and he had personally used the Silver Key to cast a spell on that version of himself, opening a [Gate of Time and Space] to send him into the past.
Strictly speaking, he had sent himself back—to ensure the time loop occurred. The Ancient One's understanding of time loops was far more profound. She had revealed to Solomon a few secret tricks that could serve as last resorts.
"Rapid fire, ten rounds," came the command from the Punisher's bridge to the artillery battery.
With a sound like shattering glass, the siege guns finally targeted the summit of Mount Fimbulwinter.
The Prophet opened his arms amid the ceaseless explosions, basking in the sensation of unification. He ignored the terrifying detonations of hypersonic shells, but those blasts obliterated the dense tide of extra-dimensional creatures with ease. Under some compelling force, the creatures remained still, unmoved even as shells exploded nearby. The Prophet believed his victory assured—that his enemies deserved to witness their own defeat.
Such arrogance was exactly what Solomon needed.
He now had the time to play his first card.
(End of Chapter)
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