Following Lilith into the factory were more than fifty suited demons. In perfect unison, they raised standard-issue pistols and rifles from the human world.
Black muzzles spat fire as a dense barrage of bullets poured toward the angels at the altar.
Yet the instant the modern storm of firepower entered the altar's range, it struck an invisible wall. A faint milky-white glow emanated from the angels possessing the cultists' bodies. Every bullet seemed to sink into resin, slowing sharply before finally hanging motionless in midair, then clattering to the floor without harming the angels in the slightest.
No surprise showed on Lilith's doll-like face. Instead, a cold curve touched her lips.
She had never expected these weapons to inflict any real damage upon beings from the Higher Heaven. Her purpose was simply attrition. Even wearing down a trace more of their holy power or distracting them for another instant would benefit the coming fight.
This was war, and war never minded using any means available.
Once their magazines were emptied, every suited demon seemed to receive a silent command and tossed away its firearm without hesitation.
The next second, their neatly aligned bodies abruptly hunched over, suppressed beastly roars bursting from their throats. Their disguises were utterly torn away, revealing their demonic nature. They became streaks of black lightning and charged at the altar with astonishing speed.
Lilith herself continued forward behind the demons, her steps calm and elegant in a way utterly at odds with her childish appearance. Her white eyes coolly swept across the battlefield like a general inspecting the front lines.
Faced with the oncoming assault, the remaining angels on the altar—including the first Judgment Angel, who was gravely wounded—began compressing and concentrating the already dim holy light around them.
The radiance was no longer energy for