The lowest-ranking Angels surrounding the boy were still mid-tier Angels. Their faintly glowing wings and halos filled the entire fountain square, completely driving away the shadows. Yet this dazzlingly sacred scene offered no comfort. The boy tried to crack a few jokes to stall for time, but The Sage had no intention of listening.
He waved a hand, then immediately thrust his spear at the boy with a shrill whistle that tore through the air. Surprisingly, The Sage's first attack was blocked by four cards the boy threw out. Yet the boy was not much better off. The protective magic he cast was as thin as paper before that spear, only managing to deflect its trajectory slightly.
Before he could catch his breath, The Sage's next attack had already arrived.
The boy rolled across the ground in a miserable scramble to evade the strike. When he seized the chance to throw cards in retaliation, the cards imbued with his power were effortlessly shattered by a single white peacock tail feather. The boy's mouth fell open in shock. Before meeting Bayonetta and Salomon, he had fought some Lower Angels. The enemies he defeated had proven that his cards could work. Yet his power could not harm the white-robed man before him. On the contrary, his attacks created openings for the man to strike.
The boy scrambled and rolled to evade the attacks. The sharp spear nearly sliced apart every paving stone in the fountain square. The gale whipped up by its tip made his skin sting and bleed. The Angels had yet to act, as though they were watching an execution.
His life was like a dying candle in the wind. He could not block many more attacks. He was about to die.
Just as the golden spear tip was about