Chapter 54 : The Descent of Wings

Lilia’s eyes blazed with argent fire, twin stars of divine purpose. Her hands, uplifted in prayer, caught the radiance and reflected it a hundredfold. The platinum brilliance surged downward in a cascade of holy light, flowing through the interlaced hands of the five clerics standing in sacred formation. Each soul caught within that circle shimmered, their bodies wrapped in a mantle of celestial luminance.

They were not warriors by trade. Barely Bronze-ranked in combat, they were healers, scribes, and humble servants of the faith. Against threats like Curtis or even Lilia herself, they would have fallen in seconds. And yet now, clad in borrowed might, they marched to war without hesitation.

For the Miracles of the Faithful were not bound by the body alone—they could be shared. Bestowed. Magnified. Even the hallowed Fifth Miracle, the Body of Might, a sacred enchantment that transfigured flesh into force, could be extended to others, though always dimmer than when cast upon oneself.

But dimmer was still divine.

Now, those five monks, once fragile and meek, surged with strength that touched the realm of Silver. Their sinews flexed with purpose, their eyes burned with resolve—and they had been trained to wield this borrowed power with lethal precision.

“Haah!”

“Hyah!”

Steel sang its ancient chorus as their blades moved in tandem. Like reapers through golden wheat, they swept through the gnoll horde. One stroke, one kill. Two fell, then five. Ten. Fifteen.

Curtis watched in grim approval, brows furrowing. It reminded him of a battle from years past—a savage warband led by a bandit-lord with more pride than sense. Donnie had been with him then. And now… these monks, these faithful, moved with the same efficiency. Perhaps even more.

The gnolls stood no chance. They were routed, crushed not by sheer numbers, but by a tide of sanctified wrath.

And yet, something gnawed at the edges of Curtis’s mind.

“…Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed, scanning the battlefield with a hunter’s instinct. Behind him, Lilia tilted her head, catching the shift in his expression.

“What is it?” she asked, voice steady.

“These gnolls,” Curtis murmured, voice low. “They’re… wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“They’re not fighting like they should. They’re just running. Not retreating tactically—just running. They’re not even trying to flank, or go for the horses. It’s like…”

“Like they’re running from something,” Lilia finished, eyes darkening.

Curtis’s jaw clenched. “Exactly.”

Then they saw it.

First Curtis. Then Lilia. Then Jenny, her sharp gasp drawing attention.

Over the ridge beyond the charred bones of the village—shadows rose. Not crawling. Not charging.

Soaring.

“WYVERNS!”

Jenny’s voice split the air like a trumpet blast. Not one. Not two.

Three.

Three wyverns—great, scaled beasts with wings like sails and claws that could shred iron—swooped down from the heavens. Living calamities. Not mere monsters, but forces of nature shaped into rage and hunger. Each one easily outclassed the gnoll horde, and now they were diving straight for the faithful.

“Fall back!” Lilia roared, her voice cutting through the rising storm of fear. “Regroup by the tree line!”

“Y-yes, Sister!”

Even as terror gripped their hearts, the monks obeyed without hesitation. The divine still shimmered on their skin, lending speed to their limbs and courage to their souls. They scattered in disciplined motion, guided by Lilia’s unshakable presence.

The gnolls, however, fled in complete disarray. Their minds had broken before the battle had even begun. Like dry leaves before a tempest, they vanished into the treeline.

Lilia turned once—searching—only to see what she needed most.

Curtis had not fled. Had not frozen.

He was already moving.

FOOOOSH!

With a low roar, the elemental burst from Curtis like a floodgate torn free. The spirit, once coiled lazily around his hand, erupted in a spiraling torrent. Water surged, not spilling but shaping—rising into the air as if gravity itself had taken pause to marvel.

Less than ten seconds had passed since the wyverns appeared.

Now, surrounding Curtis in a wide radius, floated over a hundred spears of water. Each shaped to perfection: long, slender, barbed like a knight’s lance. They shimmered like crystal under moonlight, suspended in defiance of all natural law.

His eyes met Lilia’s. A smile passed between them, quiet and steady.

No words were needed. Their bond spoke louder than language.

Lilia gave a single nod—imperceptible to most, but all the permission Curtis required.

SHWIFF! SHWIFF! SHWIFF! SHWIFF!

The spears launched.

A storm of piercing stars screamed into the heavens. For a moment, the sky ceased to be a sky—it was a killing field of frozen water and ruthless aim.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

Two of the wyverns shrieked as their wings were shredded mid-flight. Tendons snapped, membranes tore like paper. They spiraled downward, thrashing, broken.

The third dodged, barely—shielded by its brethren. But even as it twisted to recover—

BOOM.

Lilia was already airborne.

Empowered by her miracle, she soared like lightning incarnate. Her leap tore a crater in the earth, propelling her high above even the tallest trees. The wyvern lashed out, talons gleaming like sabers, but Lilia twisted midair, her movement a dance of steel and fury.

Her sword sang once—one clean arc—

SHRAAAK!

And the wyvern’s wing split with a sound like tearing thunder.

It fell, howling.

And Lilia fell with it.

She landed astride its spine as it crashed through the forest canopy. A blur of silver and fury. In her other hand, a mace swung up, once slung casually at her hip—now a hammer of divine judgment.

She brought it down.

CRACK!

The wyvern’s spine buckled.

And the forest held its breath.

Leaves trembled. Birds fell silent. The wind itself paused to witness the moment.

And in the space between heartbeats, silence reigned.

Until Curtis landed beside her, water lapping gently at his boots.

They had won the first battle.

But the war—the war had only just begun.

They had won the first battle.
But the war—the war had only just begun.
And far beyond the ridge, where the sun touched bloodied clouds, darker wings stirred—beasts yet unseen, and hungrier still.