Michael vs. The Faker

11:00 AM.

In the garden of St. John the Divine Cathedral.

The head of the statue, the angel Michael, shifted from its slightly lowered position to gradually tilt upward, as if gazing into the distance.

Words like "God," "Amen," and "Jesus" circulated incessantly among the believers who witnessed the miracle, yet they were insufficient to express even a ten-thousandth of the awe in their hearts.

The exclamations soon attracted more people, and this small garden reached its maximum capacity since its construction.

Brand began to chant verses from the "Psalms," and soon, the people followed him, the sound of their chanting growing ever louder.

Michael looked at the crowd calmly, his right arm lifting gently in a gesture that resembled a sweeping motion.

A white light appeared out of thin air on the statue's hand. Though it lacked heat, it felt warm, and a sense of unprecedented enlightenment even moved the believers to tears.

"So, Sophia?"

Sophia, who had been clumsily following the chanting, heard the familiar voice in surprise.

It was Mother!

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

At this moment, her mother's eyes were bright, devoid of the confusion and emptiness of the past. She could clearly feel that her mother was looking at her, and that her thoughts were focused on her as well.

"Kelly! Oh, God!"

Smith reacted faster than Sophia.

For convenience, he knelt on the ground, his eyes filled with disbelief. With trembling, aged hands, he cupped his wife's face. The pent-up emotions finally broke through, and he couldn't help but sob in her arms like a child.

"I think I had a dream, all hazy, and I couldn't tell anything apart. Joshua, why are you still such a crybaby? Sophia, am I... am I awake?" Kelly stroked her husband's head, asking in an uncertain tone.

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

Brand, standing to the side, looked on with gratification. As he looked around, he realized that such disappearances of illness were not isolated cases.

Even the gout in his own foot seemed to have lost all discomfort.

The believers became increasingly fanatical, finding that only kneeling could express their feelings. Others excitedly dialed their relatives, urging them to rush over immediately.

It was also at this moment that a shrill alarm began to resound throughout the city.

Some people turned a deaf ear, while others looked up in confusion.

Brand looked at the angel statue, feeling somewhat at a loss, and the angel happened to look back at him.

After a deep, mutual gaze, Michael's bronze wings flapped, and under the watchful eyes of all the believers, he flew into the sky in a completely unscientific manner.

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

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

Nearby troops deployed several drones, and the high-ranking officials in the combat command center immediately saw the scene on-site, all of them gasping for air as if their hearts had been struck by a heavy hammer.

"So, is this an angel manifesting to help us? Are there real parts to our ancient legends?"

"It's not certain yet. I think we should invite relevant experts to arrive immediately."

"Go handle it now."

"Yes!"

"How is the Goddess statue now?"

"There are more and more black tears. Preliminary analysis confirms they contain a certain degree of corrosiveness and utility—in their words, it's corrosive petroleum."

"Petroleum. Heh."

Someone let out a self-deprecating laugh, but no one blamed him.

Who among them didn't have a bitter smile upon hearing this?

Above St. John the Divine Cathedral, the angel radiated light, and those nearby felt a warmth that dispelled the suffocation and chill brought by the oppressive black clouds.

Finally, the light concentrated on the bronze sword in the angel's hand. With an expressionless face, he held the long sword horizontally, aiming directly at the Goddess statue.

The light on the blade was clearly gathering. After only a few seconds, a slender, holy beam of light shot silently from the tip of the sword—

It was blocked!

In the sky, directly between the angel and the Goddess statue, a figure dressed like an ordinary office worker suddenly appeared. As he lifted his hand slightly, the slender beam of light collided with an invisible barrier, dissipating in all directions in defiance of physical laws, unable to bypass the semicircular void barrier.

"The Faker! He has appeared!"

"Have the electromagnetic cannons aim at him!"

In the air, The Faker easily neutralized the attack, wearing his signature fake smile as he said, "Pioneer, did you know? I am your loyal admirer."

In the command room, everyone looked at each other, and finally, the commander-in-chief issued an order.

"Hurry up and find someone who speaks Japanese!"

"Yes!"

Michael looked at him for a few seconds and replied in English, which sounded a bit rusty from long disuse: "Demons. Are the common enemy."

"No, I thought that as a Pioneer, you would have the same insight as I do. Demons can also be cooperated with; it just depends on the value of the partner." The Faker looked regretful, as if he felt some of his idol filters had shattered.

"You have been corrupted."

"You are wrong; this is fusion."

The Faker burst into laughter, and with his laughter, his body began to twist and expand.

"Railguns are in position!"

"Fire!"

This wasn't a magical girl anime; the commander-in-chief wouldn't wait for him to finish transforming before attacking.

At the military base, several railguns had already locked onto The Faker beyond visual range. Following the order, the charging process completed rapidly, and with a thunderous roar, the projectiles were launched.

Shiraishi Wataru, controlling The Faker, had naturally considered how to deal with various weapons. With his Listen ability, he could easily dodge all non-homing projectiles.

The Faker's body underwent a terrifying transformation in an instant, morphing into a hideous black dragon dozens of meters long. The horned dragon head let out a roar and lunged at Michael, slamming into an office building.

The walls of the high-rise snapped and shattered instantly; the skyscrapers humans took such pride in were more brittle than wafers in the hands of the monster.

Office workers who hadn't evacuated wailed as they were about to be buried by the collapsing debris.

The angel broke free from the dragon's restraint just in time, his body erupting with dazzling holy light. All the heavy rubble suspended above the people's heads paused, then suddenly reversed direction, hurtling toward the dragon's head.

But this clearly wouldn't cause any real damage to the dragon, so the angel's sword light followed immediately after.

The speed of the strikes was impossible to track; people could only barely perceive the angel's attacks through the black, viscous fluid and wounds erupting from the black dragon's body.

The angel suddenly glanced toward Liberty Island, abruptly abandoning his assault on the dragon and flying toward the Statue of Liberty.

How could the dragon let him have his way? The two engaged in a fierce battle in the sky.

A single shockwave from their clash was enough to leave a skyscraper riddled with holes or level a house to the ground.

"Cannot lock on! Cannot lock on! Unless we use weapons of mass destruction, there's no way to hit The Faker!"

"God, if we use weapons of mass destruction in New York, the President will have to step down!"

"General Mark, the angel is willing to abandon The Faker just to attack the Statue of Liberty. Should we—"

"That is the Statue of Liberty! It is the symbol of our nation! She cannot be destroyed by our hands. Huff, unless, unless she is truly beyond saving—visibly, undeniably beyond saving. Wait a little longer, just wait a little longer."

Mark stared nervously at the screen, tugging at his collar in an attempt to breathe more easily.

The groans of the building echoed through the sky. Amidst the collapsing structure, carrying countless chunks of concrete and steel rebar, the black dragon surged out. His sharp claws finally gripped the angel once more, and he impatiently began to force him toward the ground.

"Motherfucker!"

Meanwhile, in Central Park, the National Guard had temporarily handcuffed some thugs who were trying to profit from the chaos. But upon seeing the terrifying monster descending from the sky, they had no time to unlock these people and hurriedly fled with their teammates.

"I'm going to report you! Let us go! Let us run!"

The thugs screamed and vented, pulling hard in an attempt to break free from their handcuffs. Who the hell could survive this impact? Even if they weren't hit directly, if the monster just rolled over, they would definitely be turned into meat paste!

Under their desperate gazes, the dragon dove downward—with a deafening boom and an earthquake-like tremor, a massive crater was smashed directly into Central Park, kicking up a sky full of dust and fallen leaves.