Michael Battles the Faker

Eleven in the morning.

In the garden of St. John the Divine Cathedral.

The statue's head, that of the angel Michael, had gradually lifted from its slightly bowed position, as if gazing into the distance.

Words like God, amen, and Jesus passed endlessly among the believers who had witnessed the miracle, expressing not even a fraction of their astonishment.

Their cries of wonder soon drew more people, and the little garden reached its largest capacity since it was built.

Brand began reciting verses from the Psalms. The people quickly joined him, their voices growing louder and louder.

Michael calmly glanced at the crowd, then gently raised his right arm and made a motion as if scattering something.

A beam of white light appeared out of nowhere in the statue's hand. It gave off no heat, yet people felt its warmth. An unprecedented revelation washed over the believers, bringing many of them to tears.

"S-Sophia?"

Sophia, who had been clumsily following along with the recitation, was startled to hear that familiar voice.

It was her mother!

She turned in shock to look at her mother in the wheelchair.

Her mother's eyes were bright now, no longer clouded and vacant as before. Sophia could clearly feel that her mother was looking at her, and that she was the one on her mind.

"Kelly! Oh, God!"

Smith reacted even faster than Sophia.

For convenience, he hurriedly dropped to his knees. His eyes were filled with disbelief as his trembling, aged hands cupped his wife's face. At last, the emotions he had held inside broke loose, and he couldn't help but bury himself in her arms and weep like a child.

"I think I had a dream. Everything was so hazy, I couldn't tell one thing from another. Joshua, why are you still such a crybaby? Sophia, have I... woken up?" Kelly stroked her husband's head, her voice uncertain.

"You're awake, Mom. Wuwu, you're finally back!" Sophia pressed her cheek tightly against her mother's.

Brand watched with relief. Looking around, he saw that this kind of affliction being lifted wasn't an isolated case.

Even the gout in his own foot seemed to have vanished without a trace.

The believers grew more fervent. Only by kneeling could they express what they felt. Some excitedly called their loved ones and urged them to come at once.

It was then that a piercing alarm began to sound across the city.

Some people paid it no mind. Others looked up in confusion.

Brand turned uncertainly to the angel statue, and the angel happened to be looking back at him.

After exchanging a long look, Michael beat his bronze wings and flew into the sky, defying all reason as the believers watched.

"What?! You said you saw an angel?!"

"An angel flew into the sky from St. John the Divine Cathedral? God..."

Nearby military units deployed several drones. The senior officers at the operations command center immediately saw what was happening, and every one of them felt as though a heavy blow had landed on their chest, leaving them struggling to breathe.

"So the angel has manifested to help us? Were some parts of our old legends true?"

"We can't be sure yet. I think we should invite the relevant experts here immediately."

"Go take care of it."

"Yes, sir!"

"What's happening with the Statue of Liberty?"

"The black tears are increasing. Preliminary analysis confirms that they're corrosive and can be put to use. In their words, it's corrosive oil."

"Oil. Heh."

Someone let out a somewhat abrupt, self-mocking laugh, but no one blamed him.

Who among them wouldn't have smiled bitterly at the thought?

High above St. John the Divine Cathedral, the angel radiated light. Everyone nearby felt a wave of warmth that dispelled the suffocating cold brought on by the oppressive black clouds.

At last, the light gathered around the bronze sword in the angel's hand. Expressionless, he held the blade level and aimed it straight at the Statue of Liberty.

Light visibly built up along the blade. A few seconds later, a slender beam of holy light silently shot from its tip—

It was blocked!

In the sky, directly between the angel and the statue, a figure dressed like an ordinary office worker had suddenly appeared. He merely raised a hand, and the slender beam struck an invisible barrier, dispersing around it in defiance of the laws of physics. It couldn't get past the semicircular wall of empty space.

"The Faker! He's appeared!"

"Lock the electromagnetic cannons onto him!"

In the air, the Faker easily dispelled the attack. Wearing his trademark false smile, he said, "Pioneer, you know, I'm your most devoted admirer."

Back in the command room, everyone exchanged glances. In the end, the commander gave the order.

"Go find someone who speaks Japanese, now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Michael watched him for a few seconds, then replied in English, his voice a little rusty, as though he hadn't spoken in ages. "Demons... are the enemy of all."

"No. I thought that as a Pioneer, you'd have seen as much as I have. Demons can be our allies, too. It all depends on the value of the other party." The Faker sighed, as if some of his idol's mystique had shattered.

"You've been... corrupted."

"You're wrong. This is fusion."

The Faker burst into laughter, and as he did, his body began to twist and swell.

"The electromagnetic cannons are ready!"

"Fire!"

This wasn't some magical-girl show. The commander wasn't going to wait for him to finish transforming before striking.

At the military base, several electromagnetic cannons had already been aimed at the Faker beyond visual range. As soon as the order came, they charged in an instant and fired with a resounding boom.

Shiraishi Wataru, who was controlling the Faker, had naturally prepared for all kinds of weapons. With his Listen ability, he could easily dodge any non-homing weapon.

The Faker's body completed a terrifying transformation in an instant, becoming a hideous black dragon dozens of meters long. The horned dragon head roared as it charged at Michael, slamming into an office tower.

The building's walls split and shattered. In the hands of the monster, humanity's pride and joy, the skyscraper, was more brittle than a wafer.

Office workers who hadn't gone to the shelters screamed as falling rubble threatened to bury them.

The angel broke free of the dragon's grasp in time, his body erupting with dazzling holy light. All the heavy debris froze above the people's heads for a moment, then abruptly changed direction and hurtled toward the dragon's head.

But this clearly wouldn't hurt the dragon. The angel's sword flashed right after.

His sword moved too fast to see. People could only tell the angel was attacking from the black, viscous substance splattering from the dragon and the wounds appearing on its body.

The angel suddenly glanced toward Liberty Island, abandoned his attack, left the dragon behind, and flew toward the Statue of Liberty.

The dragon wasn't about to let him go. The two clashed in the air.

The shockwaves from a single blow could leave a skyscraper in ruins or flatten a house.

"We can't lock on! We can't lock on! Unless we use a weapon of mass destruction, there's no way to hit the Faker!"

"God, using a weapon of mass destruction in New York would get the President removed from office!"

"General Mark, the angel's willing to abandon the Faker just to attack the Statue of Liberty. Shouldn't we—"

"That's the Statue of Liberty, the symbol of our country! We can't let it be destroyed by our own hands. Whew... unless, unless it's truly beyond saving—visibly beyond saving. Let's wait a little longer. Just a little longer."

Mark stared tensely at the screen and tugged at his collar, trying to breathe more easily.

The building groaned as it collapsed. The black dragon burst through the crumbling structure, trailing countless chunks of concrete and steel rebar. Its claws finally seized the angel again, and it eagerly began forcing him down toward the ground.

"Motherfucker!"

Meanwhile, in Central Park, the National Guard had temporarily handcuffed some thugs who'd tried to take advantage of the chaos. But after seeing the terrifying monster plummet from the sky, they had no time to unlock the men and hurriedly ran off with their squadmates.

"I'm filing a complaint! Let us go! Let us escape!"

The thugs screamed and struggled, yanking hard at their handcuffs in a desperate attempt to break free. Who the hell could survive that thing crashing down? Even if it missed them, one roll would turn them into meat paste!

As they watched in despair, the dragon plunged downward—then crashed into the ground with a deafening boom and an earthquake-like tremor, leaving a huge crater in Central Park and kicking up a skyful of dust and leaves.