On a distant building, a woman who looked to be in her fifties stood. There was a sash around her waist that tightened against her hips, her proud bust standing out well beyond her flat belly and chin. It tied down her floral robes well, but that didn’t stop her enormous sleeves from swaying in the wind.
Her feet were pressed together almost as though her heels were glued, her stature perfectly straight and perfectly measured.
Her hair was done up in an equally perfect bun, three long golden needles sticking out from it in a delicately arranged pattern.
Whenever this woman appeared, there would usually be great fanfare. It wasn’t because she was a shocking beauty, though she did have a subtle sort of pleasing appearance to her. It was more so her strength.
This woman was Baroness Auma, one of the supposed four Vanguard Class existences of the city, and the only one not directly tied to the church.
"Why haven’t you acted yet, Baroness?"
Another of the four, Sir Ovaal, suddenly appeared a distance away and a bit down from her. Baroness Auma stood on a chimney, but Sir Ovaal had chosen a random shingle on the home, staring into the distance without looking at her too closely.
Sir Ovaal was a man of short stature, his nose almost felt like the largest part of him there was. But it had been a very, very long time since anyone dared to mention that.
"I feel like this is a question I should be asking you." Auma said calmly. "The Bishop is unlikely to exit before his new realm is stabilized, and I’m sure you’ve realized by now that the fat boy is Sir Trolley’s disciple, so he won’t be acting. Who else are you expecting to step in, exactly? Why should I get involved in Church matters?"
Sir Ovaal didn’t respond immediately, watching the battle down below. The two had practically turned all of Terran’s territory into a war zone. There was nothing but debris and rubble from edge to edge. The gates and walls of the estate were barely keeping them in check.
"Terran is an eyesore." Ovaal said eventually.
Auma chuckled. "You will let him die, then?"
"It is impossible for Edmun’s disciple to kill him."
"Oh? Haven’t you seen him take all his swords away? It was quite impressive if you ask me."
"The fact he did so? Or the fact he clearly has an unauthorized spatial item?"
No Proving Class squire should have a spatial item strong enough to hold Vector weapons inside of it. But then again, no Proving Class squire should be able to fight the likes of Terran toe to toe either.
Auma chuckled again. "Both."
"You and I both know that Terran’s Holy Frame is not normal. He performed much better in his Holy Knight Trial than even I. He has only activated it to its first tier because he is too prideful to use more against a Proving Class, but he will eventually be forced to and the battle will end. He cannot get away with Passive Activation against such an enemy."
"Ah yes, he is quite the big fish here, but quite pitiful where he hails from. But you did not answer my question, now did you?"
Sir Ovaal looked over at Auma for the first time with an unamused expression.
They both knew that there was no way they could allow Terran to die. The hell it would bring down onto their zone would wipe out the entire city.
So what was the point in asking the question?
There was a far more important question to ask.
If they were aware that Sir Trolley’s disciple was here locked in a battle of this magnitude, where the hell was Sir Trolley himself?
It was at that moment Grey activated his Paladin Frame.
Sir Ovaal’s eyes went wide as he felt his Holy Energy retreat within himself.
...
It almost felt like Grey was using Void Gaze. He had been fighting Terran for so long he understood all of his patterns, all of his habits.
He didn’t care how many treasures Terran had, he didn’t care who came, he didn’t care what he had to give of himself.
He was going to make this bastard cough up more than just blood.
And then he was going to put his head by a couple of tombstones.
Grey seemed to vanish from Terran’s vision, his body blurring to a side. The Skrill Mask appeared and the Fading Cloak layered itself onto Grey’s body. The two combined into a hellish illusion that left Terran hardly able to tell which Grey was real.
BANG.
Terran’s eyes darted around trying to decide where to slash. He guessed wrong. Completely so.
He was hit before he even made a decision. Grey appeared behind him, thrusting his spear at his back.
BANG.
Terran’s back bent the wrong way, another shield shattering as he toppled across the ground.
Grey’s shoes flashed and his Stamina went down another five points as he instantly crossed five meters.
He stomped down on the back of Terran’s head, smashing his forehead into the rubble and debris. With a roar, he thrust down with all his might.
"DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!" Terran roared like a madman. He dug deep, looking to pull his Frame up to another level.
His attempt fizzled out. It was like his Holy Frame didn’t want to respond to him at all, like it was in the presence of something far too powerful.
On a distant building, Sir Ovaal’s eyes were glowing with gold.
Through a normal pair of eyes, it looked as though Grey was just radiating a little bit of gold.
Through Sir Ovaal’s eyes, Grey looked like a blazing golden sun. Clouds hung above him in streams of misty ambrosia. Angels stepped out from them, raising their trumpets and blaring them into the skies.
The beat of a wild war drum thrummed through the earth, shaking it to its core.
’Not good.’ Sir Ovaal thought before his mind opened in a roar. "STOP!"
The building beneath him shattered as he shot forward, blurring through the skies in a laser of gold.
A great amount of pressure descended on Grey, nearly forcing him to his knees.