Isaac tucked the bomb into the pouch at his waist. "Then make more."
Elena nodded. "Make a thousand."
At the entrance to the rift on the lowest level of Hell, Wu Heng stood watching the dark-purple fissure.
The fissure was slowly expanding, changing from a thin line into an irregular oval, roughly ten meters wide and fifteen meters high.
Golden light flickered along its edges. It was Heaven's authority keeping it stable. Hans had set up a ring of incantation cannons around the fissure, their muzzles aimed at it, ready to fire at any moment.
Martin approached from behind. "President, there's movement on Michael's side."
"What kind of movement?"
"The vanguard has assembled on the other side of the rift. Gabriel is leading them—five thousand Mechanical Winged Dragons and ten thousand Apocalypse Angels."
Wu Heng looked at the fissure. "He couldn't wait any longer."
When the rift exploded open, all of Hell shook.
The dark-purple fissure seemed to have been blown apart from within, instantly expanding to two hundred meters wide and one hundred meters high.
The golden light along its edges flickered violently, then shattered.
The incantation cannons fired at once. Their shells flew into the rift and vanished into the dark-purple glow.
Then the other side returned fire.
The first to rush out of the rift were the Mechanical Winged Dragons. They were enormous, their bodies as large as small houses, with wingspans of twenty meters.
Their bodies were skeletal frames covered in metal plates, their eyes two blazing clusters of holy light. As they burst from the rift, the gusts kicked up by their wings overturned several nearby incantation cannons.
Karim crouched atop a dune east of the rift, watching the Mechanical Winged Dragons pour out.
All twelve of his scorpion tails were plunged into the sand.