Aɳɠҽʅιƈ Hυɳƚɾҽʂʂ σϝ Bʅσσԃ αɳԃ Sƚҽҽʅ

Chapter 11: Fear the Old Blood

(Wrapping up this Yarnahm Hunt Arc, it's a long chapter... Enjoy)

[Earth]

[Cathedral Ward | Grand Cathedral]

On the steps leading toward the Cathedral of the Healing Chruch's leadership, a single woman continues her clash against the Blood Ministry's last defenses.

Having cut through most of their number, fresh bodies lay dead all about the battlefield...

Their frontline tanks, Church giants are slumped against the stone, their knee joints slashed open and heads decapitated. Having been dispatched through the exploitation of their irregular physiology, the Archangel used their size against them.

Funny, given size is their greatest strength.

The other half is made up of their infantry, standard Church guardsmen dressed in white.

Compared to their black counterpart, these members are equipped with much deadlier weapons, sporting more advanced firearms and magic infused blades.

Quite impressive for mortal humans, but for a divine Archangel such as herself, Maria could only rate it as subpar. They merely scratched the surface of what the power of the supernatural is truly capable of.

And unfortunately, it wasn't enough to save them from their gruesome fate. That being the multitude of corpses scattered around, some were cleaved down to pieces, while others had deep wounds torn open by fang-like serration.

Reinforcing the fact that Maria's arsenal of weaponry is made up of only the best. Each piece is unique and serves its own vital purpose in battle...

Like with her [Saw Cleaver], which she believes represents this rather well, indeed.

...

Laugher echoes from up top the steps to the Grand Cathedral, absolutely psychotic as Maria is currently locked in battle, weaving between strikes from her white Church enemies.

Blades coming too close for comfort, bullets barely missing past her, and yet...

She can't help but enjoy the feeling of battle. Maria revels in it, brushing so close, as if she is dancing constantly on the edge between life and death.

It's like a high, addicting, and satisfying to her core. The only difference is that Maria can live on this edge, kill as much as she so desires...

Because at the end of the day, the Archangel can feel no guilt in the lives she takes.

These people, these victims of hers, are not worthy of being on her conscience. Their deaths are simply weightless, for she cannot ever feel guilty for relieving the world of walking filth.

In fact, Maria wishes she could find new ways of killing them. So they can experience the agonizing feeling over and over. Alas, she'll have to settle for the first time...

No matter, the Archangel has waited seven long years. In that time, she's had plenty long to think it over.

"Hahaha!" Maria cackles like a maniac, clashing blades with her enemy, a white Church member with a unique weapon.

A scythe, magically infused along the curved razor blade. Maria isn't as focused on the weapon as she is on the spell itself, a fiery blue magic pulsing sporadically. How odd, this instance reminds her of something...

Something relating to her own technique...

"That doesn't belong to you, mortal..." Maria snarls with a grin, slipping under the scythe and shoving her opponent into the concrete railing behind her. "You don't have the right to wield something you don't quite understand..."