Henri pointed his stick at the silver glow again. "Then, a few months ago, the golden birds came back. They brought big glass jars. They poured a glowing silver water down here. They said they were making a 'wine cellar' for the Father. They said the water needed to rest in a holy place before they drank it."Henri’s voice cracked. He started to cry. "I can hear the water, stranger. The water cries. It sounds like my daughter."Elijah closed his eyes. The Angels had taken the souls of Paris, ground them into liquid, and stored them in the catacombs under the cathedral. They treated human lives like bottles of wine. "You do not have to hide anymore, Henri," Elijah said softly. "I have come to take the water away. I am going to stop the Angels."Henri frowned. He tightened his grip on his weapon. "Take it away? To do what? Are you going to drink them too?"Elijah walked slowly into the light. Henri's dog barked loudly, stepping back from the giant, dark King. Henri felt the coldness o

The yellow poison raced across the sky. It was a sick, bright yellow line of light. It moved through the beautiful gray Ley-Line that Elijah had just built. It was moving at the speed of light. It was heading straight for New York. Straight for the Obsidian Spire and the 12,000 sleeping people inside. Adam the Plumber, the First Sovereign, smiled. He put his hands in his pockets. He looked very happy. "Tick-tock, King," Adam said. "If that poison hits your big black tower, every human inside will melt into yellow sludge. You cannot outrun it."Elijah did not look at Adam. He looked up at the sky. His 4% humanity screamed with terror. His people were going to die. But his Sovereign logic was cold and fast. It calculated the speed. It calculated the distance. Adam was right. Elijah could not fly to New York fast enough to stop the poison. But Elijah was the King. He did not have to outrun it. He controlled the pipe. Elijah raised his hands. He pointed his sharp, obsidian fingers at

Elijah rolled to his feet. His cracked armor leaked purple light. The second Reaper charged forward. Its tank treads ripped up the floor. It swung its hammer in a wide circle, aiming for Elijah's head. Elijah ducked. The hammer smashed into one of the giant glass tubes. The tube shattered. Thousands of gallons of silver soul-water spilled out onto the floor. The souls inside screamed as they hit the dirty metal ground. Elijah’s anger boiled over. "You do not touch them!" Elijah roared. He didn't use a fireball. He didn't use a sword. He used his raw, godly strength. Elijah launched himself through the air. He flew straight at the second Reaper. He slammed his dark obsidian fist directly into the golden scale where the machine's head should be. CRUNCH!His fist broke the golden scale in half. The heavy brass body of the Reaper tilted backward. Elijah grabbed the machine by its metal collar. He planted his feet on the ground and pulled with all the strength of the 12 Authorities

"IT IS FAST BECAUSE IT USES 100% OF ITS PROCESSOR," the Sovereign voice replied. "YOU ARE ONLY USING 96%. YOU ARE KEEPING 4% FOR YOUR WEAK HUMAN FEELINGS. YOU ARE HOLDING ONTO PATIENCE. YOU ARE HOLDING ONTO MERCY. BURN THEM. SACRIFICE THE MEAT. OVERCLOCK THE MACHINE."Elijah hung his head. In the real world, his violet blood was pouring into the snow. The giant diamond machine floated quietly, watching him die. [5 SECONDS TO BRAIN DEATH.]Elijah looked at his 4% humanity. It was the part of him that felt bad for the old man in Paris. It was the part of him that cried for Tommy. It was the part of him that still knew how to wait, how to listen, how to be patient. To "Overclock" his brain, he had to burn a piece of his soul as fuel. He had to delete his patience. He would become faster, but he would become colder. He would never want to wait for anything ever again. "If I die here, the Spire falls," Elijah thought. "I must save the world. Even if the world is saved by a monster."Eli

Elijah remembered the stories from the old world. Before the Archangels created the First Sovereign, they created the Vanguards. They were human super-soldiers. They were men and women given a tiny drop of holy power. They fought the demons in the early days of the war. They were heroes. But the Angels treated them like tools. When they broke, they were thrown away. This Vanguard looked terrible. He was an older man with a thick, gray beard. His face was covered in deep scars. He was not just frozen in the ice. He was plugged into it. Thick, glowing golden cables came down from the ceiling of the ice block. The cables went directly into the Vanguard’s body. They pierced his shoulders, his chest, and his eyes. The Angels were using his strong, holy soul as a living battery. The Vanguard was pumping his own life energy into the ice, keeping it frozen. He was suffering in eternal cold to keep the two million souls trapped. As Elijah looked at him, the Vanguard’s frozen eyelids twitc