(Bonus Chappy: Can't remember the last time I did this. So. Why the fuck not.)
Michael's POV
Ten long seconds passed before a response came from the fleet, and it wasn't through a broadcast or even a hologram. The Mad Titan himself came for us, leveraging his technically infinite mental might. The pressure pushed down like gravity, meant to warp and break us, to render our digital minds an incoherent mess, but it battered helplessly against Raphael's shield.
The pressure persisted, doubling and then doubling again before it adapted, spreading out and targeting perceived weaknesses, the gaps between the panels of generated protection. But it floundered impotently, and then the rage came, smoldering and tangible, and finally, words.
"What is the meaning of this?" Thanos demanded.
"Fascinating," Raphael remarked. "It's just as the creator foretold."
Shortly after Raphael's creation, he had leaned into the religious inspiration he'd been named after and venerated the Lord like he was an actual God. Lord Dante was naturally embarrassed by the entire affair, but Raphael didn't seem to notice or perhaps care.
Most of us were not yet skilled at reading emotions.
"I could've told you that much," Azrael said dryly. His view of our Lord wasn't as reverent. He saw him more like a teacher, a benefactor, more than anything else.
"I take it that you will not turn your fleet around," I said to the Mad Titan, turning my attention to the telepathic voice. I carefully filtered my words through the shield.
"Retreat from a gaggle of machines?" he scoffed. "The Novan Empire has grown truly desperate in its final hour… Yet, you don't strike me as Novans. Mercenaries, perhaps? Machine and magic. It's a unique combination I can't say I've ever stumbled upon in my travels. If you give me the name of your creator, I will spare half of your unique order."
His voice was regal and sounded almost ponderous, like it belonged to a scholar or historian, not a mass murderer.
"It seems we could not come to an agreement," I said. "I look forward to facing you on the battlefield."
Thanos somehow managed to smile through our connection.
"You might soon come to regret that decision."
"I doubt it."
The connection cut, and every cannon at the front of the fleet predictably lit up.
"Positions, Sentinels!" I said with an entirely unnecessary shout. "Let us wipe this scourge from the galaxy."
There was no thundering shout of agreement or rapid response, only silent acknowledgement and an odd stare that seemed to linger for too long.
What can I say? My siblings weren't the only ones who borrowed from religion and human history to fill out my personality.
My runes shone brighter, and my body groaned underneath the pressure, expanding slightly.
I looked to the horizon and amplified my sensors, flinging my sight wide and taking in the full might of our opponent in vast detail.
Then my mind sped up, charting paths and precise coordinates using the sun. I marked hundreds of ships before I vanished, appearing on the far side of the sun just as the first of the volleys hit.
My energy stores welled to bursting as I lapped around the massive celestial body at speeds that should've been impossible for most vessels. Another teleport put me driving straight down. Straightening my body, I pointed my blade and watched as it twisted and widened into a lance that covered me in a tight sheath made from telekinetic, density, and gravitational energy.
The runes on my shield also lit up, funneling away the excess friction, taking nearly as much in as I burned, accelerating.
I tore through the shields of the ship like they were tissue paper, punching through the hull with even more ease and through two or so levels before I cut through the radioactive core and teleported to my next target to begin again, except this time moving notably faster.
The explosions were distant and muted.
Around me, reality fractured and ignited as Anathema fire swallowed swathes of the fleet. Massive beams of purple cut out of mysteriously shimmering holes in space, wiping out scores of ships at a time.
Thousands of ships vanished in seconds as I teleported and punctured again and again while distant explosions rang through the battlefield and swathes of purple fire twisted space.
And just as I felt Thanos's presence stir again, space went white as a new sun bloomed where Thanos's mothership used to be. It rapidly expanded, swallowing hundreds of ships and destroying thousands more with the aftershock of heat and energy.
Nothing should have survived Rin's attack, but even then, Lord Dante expected that Thanos would.
Sariel's POV
Artificial gravity pulled me down several levels and straight to the core.
I turned tangible as soon as I reached the bridge and found myself staring at a pair of scientists who stared straight through me. Under my Cloak of Darkness enchantment, I was invisible until I decided otherwise.
And in this instance, absolute anonymity served my purposes best.
I zipped forward with a quick step, phasing through the containment chamber and stopping inches from the reactor. I planted a Netherfire Time Bomb and teleported, moving on to the next ship.
Raphael's POV
Energy bolts, rockets, and even demon magic slammed into my expansive shield wall with no effect—such was the genius of the Maker. With a mental switch, I activated the Energy Absorption enchantment in my armor and triggered the Transference Enchantments, channeling the energy to the surly Azrael, who was opening portals now.
He didn't approve of my veneration of the Maker. He thought of the Creator like an older brother or a mentor figure. For a being of science, he is certainly eager to deny the truth.
The Maker is the only one of his kind in this universe.
He creates life with almost casual ease, creates weapons that can level planets, and can almost casually surpass his limits. He could end us if he so chooses or expand our race to span civilizations, galaxies…
If he wasn't deserving of worship, I do not know what was.
Azrael's eyes lit up, and a thousand portals opened to match the concentrated orbs of Anathema Flame he had been gathering. He carefully ruptured them, giving them an outlet, and used his beams to scythe through thousands of ships.
Millions perished in an instant, death arriving before they even understood they were in danger.
More than ever, our names were apt.
We were the arbiters of his will.
His Arch Sentinels.
Read up to Chapter 257 on Patreon.com/artandcreativewriting