The Cathedral bells rang — not in celebration, but in dread.
It was rare for them to sound during the dead of night. Rarer still for the sky to tremble.
Flames rose in the distance. The horizon bled red.
Kaito stood on the balcony of the Ministry's east tower, sword at his side, eyes fixed on the inferno creeping toward the city.
"They're here," he muttered.
Ren appeared beside him, loading his pistols with mana capsules, his jacket stained with dried demon blood. "Vatican's sending a message."
Behind them, Daiki helped Icarus down the corridor, while Haru consulted with a scroll in one hand and a glowing memory crystal in the other. His brow was furrowed.
"They activated the Archangel Protocol," Haru said grimly. "I stole records from the Council."
"Explain," Ren said.
Haru didn't look up. "While we were being raised in temples and thrown into war zones, the Vatican was creating something… worse. Fused beings. Part divine essence, part relic tech. Each bound with the soul of a fallen saint."
Kaito narrowed his eyes. "How many?"
"Seven," Haru said. "Each called a 'Trumpet.' And they're coming for Icarus."
Icarus, pale and trembling, whispered, "I feel them. Like chains around my heart."
A Shining Storm Descends
The walls of the Ministry trembled as light shattered the skies.
From above, like angels dipped in molten gold, the Trumpets descended. They wore no helmets—only metallic halos, mechanical wings, and masks carved from prayer tablets.
The lead one, a woman with wings of radiant plasma and eyes like glass, floated above the burning trees.
"Return Subject Icarus," she said, voice mechanical yet haunting. "And kneel."
Ren cocked both pistols. "You first, glow stick."
Then they struck.
The Trumpet raised a finger — and air turned to fire.
Lightning surged. Walls disintegrated. Priests screamed. And the Four were scattered.
Split Paths, Burning Blood
Kaito and Ren charged headfirst into the battle. Kaito's wind surged with a roar, blades flashing like silver meteors as he deflected energy blasts mid-air. Ren dove through rubble, dual pistols humming with heat as he launched explosive shots, the recoil sending him spinning through the dust.
But these enemies didn't flinch.
One Trumpet, wielding a flaming spear made from condensed scripture, clashed with Kaito midair. "You are a failure," it droned. "Born of defiance."
"I was born free," Kaito growled, and with a roar, he shattered the angel's wing with a cyclone slash.
Elsewhere—
Daiki and Haru fought to protect Icarus, racing through collapsing corridors.
"Haru—!" Daiki shouted, dodging a beam that liquefied the floor. "Get him out!"
"I'm trying!" Haru's eyes burned with blue foresight, calculating possibilities.
Behind them, a Trumpet slowly descended — his mask depicting the weeping face of a martyr.
"Icarus," it intoned. "You are sin."
Icarus fell to his knees.
"No," Haru said, stepping forward. "He's a boy."
The Trumpet raised its blade — just as Daiki surged in with a burst of earth-force, his fist turning the floor into spiked stone, impaling the angel's leg.
"Back off!" Daiki yelled.
The Will to Protect
Smoke filled the halls.
Kaito reunited with Haru and Daiki, bloodied but breathing. Icarus sat in a trance, eyes glowing faintly.
"They're going to kill everyone," Haru said, panting. "We need a miracle."
"No," Kaito said. "We need Icarus."
At those words, something deep in the boy stirred.
Chains around his heart snapped.
His shadow flickered—twisted—like wings unfurling.
Then, with a scream that split the sky, Icarus rose.
Runes spiraled across his arms, down his legs, and a massive ring of floating chain-links spun behind him.
"I… don't want to run anymore," he said, voice layered with echo.
One of the Trumpets lunged at him—
And was stopped mid-air as invisible force crushed its wings and sent it hurtling into a pillar.
Everyone froze.
Even the other Trumpets hesitated.
"I remember," Icarus said. "What they did to me. What I am."
He raised a hand — and for a brief moment, looked not like a child… but like a god forged in torment.
The Trumpets Retreat… For Now
The Cathedral smoldered.
Three Trumpets lay defeated. Two retreated, wings torn. One remained—kneeling.
The radiant woman stared at Icarus and the Four. Her halo cracked.
"I will report this," she said. "You will be marked Apostate."
Then she vanished in a burst of light.
In the Aftermath
The Council was in chaos.
Some wanted to imprison Icarus. Others wanted to kneel before him. The Four stood divided on how to protect him… and the world.
But one thing became clear: this was only the beginning.
The Vatican had more Trumpets. The demons stirred in the south. And in the ruins of the Old Order, someone was watching.
A man in black robes, hidden in the Vatican's catacombs, opened a book bound in angel wings.
"The Fifth Child has awakened," he whispered. "Now we wait for the Sixth…"