Azgoth's tendrils writhed, his massive frame slithering aside with eerie swiftness.

Particle beams tore through the air in a radiant storm, their iridescent trails scorching the ground near Angar, erupting spouts of glowing rock and dust. The relentless discharges narrowly missed him, getting far too close for comfort.

The Nofelim darted through the barrage in a blur, his flayed hide evading beams, his cyclopean eye fixed on the source.

The engine's roar swelled, nearing fast. Angar's cybernetic eye tracked the assailants as they emerged from the haze, a monstrous silhouette against the roiling clouds of the sky.

A gray and red battlecycle soared in, its grav-engines growling with barely contained fury. The machine was a monster of war, its chassis a slab of angular mechanics wider than two men, its bulky frame bristling with armor and exhausts belching blue flames, its weapon systems blazing.

A turret mount jutted from the rear, dragged behind like a war chariot. Its barrel spat volleys of particle beams tracking Azgoth, each crackling with violet-white energy and warping the air in ferocious ripples.

The cycle's prow bore a fractured shield split by an ember-lit sword, the sigil of the Shattered Aegis, Hidetada's old home, once named the Black Aegis before Mara crushed the chapter, and Hidetada along with it.

Two warriors manned the machine, each clad in Crusader Armor forged for the higher Tiers.

The driver was a colossus, his bulk dwarfing the machine he rode, his armor a fortress-like heavy Cataphract suit etched with Holy runes, the largest set of armor Angar had ever seen. He exuded unyielding might, a juggernaut of Divine wrath capable of shattering armies.

His helm was a faceless slab of black metal with a visor glowing blue. His left arm bore a long-barreled cannon extending past his hand, the muzzle smoking, while his right carried a multi-barreled gatling gun, its ammo conduit snaking into a massive back-mounted pack.

The second rider, firing the turret, was clad in a formidable Armiger set, its midnight-blue plates adorned with silvered sigils of Treys and blessings. A hafted weapon jutted over his shoulder, the haft etched with glowing circuitry.

His helm was angular and crested, and his movements were precise, disciplined, as he unleashed a torrent of particle beams from the turret, carved furrows into the earth, tracking the dodging Azgoth, whose chains wailed, his tentacle-limb lashing out to deflect a beam.

Angar staggered to his feet as pain screamed through his broken body. While his cybernetic legs whirred to keep him upright, hobbling out of the line of fire, he realized his hand had torn free at some point, no longer dangling by sinews and skin from his broken forearm.

Azgoth slithered through the storm of turret fire, a blur of flayed hide and writhing tendrils, dodging incandescent beams that scorched the rocky ground. His cyclopean eye pulsed with baleful red fury, and a surge of psychic might lashed out, seizing the battlecycle in an invisible vise.

With a wrenching screech, the machine slammed into the ground, the turret-gunner and driver firing the whole time, diving off at the last moment, the grav-engines sputtering out as dust and rock erupted.

Angar's Psy Crystal flared red against his mangled arm, channeling Electrokinesis, unleashing a torrent of psionic currents into Azgoth's mouthless head, chaining invisible arcs through the Fallen's corrupted brain, or whatever filled that space.

The Nofelim's frame shuddered, his barbed chains wailing in torment. Angar triggered Lightning Strike with a thought, but a white-hot agony erupted from his core, clawing through his veins like molten lava.

He cursed under his breath. Azgoth had sealed his core again with a psychic stranglehold. Gritting his teeth, Angar's Electrokinesis flared, crushing the profane knot.

His core blazed unbound, but the Fallen had broken free of Electrocute already, and his cyclopean eye blazed with baleful red fury.

With Ground Current on cooldown, Angar dove and rolled, narrowly escaping a fell beam from Azgoth's eye that carved a smoldering trench through the generator housing, warping the air with heat as it passed by.

Scrambling upright, he sprinted as Lightning Strike ignited, the shimmering shield encasing him just as a wide green blast hurled him tumbling, shredding the shield and blistering his skin further.

As he groaned and struggled back to his feet, the psychic chains of Azgoth's Pin restrained him, but Angar's mind demolished the telekinetic hold.

The colossal Crusader's gatling gun's relentless chatter blared, carved furrows into Azgoth's warped frame, sending ichor spraying in viscous splatters.

As Angar scrambled to stand, a beam carved into his right thigh, melting through armor like it was ice. He screamed as he stumbled, collapsing back to the ground.

The battlecycle's turret thundered to life again, merging with the gatling's furious barrage.

Azgoth blurred through the fire, but the shots were too relentless, many boring into his flayed hide. Dark ichor sprayed until his Blast power hurled both Knights away, screaming through the air, off into the distance.

The Fallen's cyclopean eye fixed on Angar, flashing almost gleefully. Psychic chains lashed at him, but before they arrived, his body dissolved into charged particles.

He reformed behind the Nofelim. As Ground Current's bolt tore into his foe, his gauntlet retracted to bare leonine claws

He slashed, but Azgoth's Pin bound him fast, and Angar's will roared, shattering the telekinetic grip.

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His claws tore into flayed hide, rending corrupted flesh as a bolt of yellow from Lightning Strike crashed from the sky, searing into the Nofelim's head, eliciting a screech as the cyclopean eye flickered with fury.

The tentacle-limb lashed out, slamming into Angar with devastating force, shattering his pauldron and hurling him through the air.

Psychic tendrils gripped him mid-flight, Azgoth's Throw, or perhaps Blast, propelling him with brutal speed. He crashed against the sturdy prefab church's reinforced wall, and pain exploded through his battered body, but the impact failed to embed him this time. He bounced off, tumbling to the ground just as a fell beam melted the wall into slag above.

He moaned for a few seconds, then his cybernetic legs hissed as hydraulics churned, and he struggled upright, standing as agony ripped through his frame.

He looked toward the battle, glimpsing the colossal Crusader soaring through the air, psychically tossed again, his armor glowing fiercely, breaking free of Azgoth's psychic grip.

The warrior hovered, his Cataphract armor blazing with Holy runes, his gatling gun spewing a ceaseless torrent of plasma tearing into Azgoth's hide.

The long-barreled cannon on his other arm loosed a blast, punching through the Nofelim's flank in a dark gore spray.

The Crusader blazed forward like a train, a juggernaut rushing his foe. Azgoth's eye blazed, and a desperate Pin barely caught the Knight in time.

A beam of fell energy erupted from Azgoth's eye, blasting into his enemy, sending the Crusader's flying backwards.

Undeterred, the Knight's jets ignited, propelling him forward, barreling into Azgoth, the two titans sent tumbling across the scarred earth in a tangle, trading brutal blows.

The melee ended with the Crusader atop, pinning the Nofelim to the ground. An Ability flared, sending Treys and Holy sigils swirling around the Knight before fusing into his armor, his form ablaze with radiant light.

His cannon and gatling gun blared point-blank, shredding Azgoth's chest and mouthless helm. Ichor splattered everywhere, and the Fallen's barbed chains wailed in futile torment.

The Nofelim's lower tendrils and tentacle-limb thrashed, clawing at the Crusader, trying to remove his bulk, but the Knight's radiant might all but ignored them. A wide blast of fell energy washed over the area, its unholy heat corrupting the air, but the Crusader remained unyielding, his weapons roaring ceaselessly.

Azgoth's Blast erupted, launching the Knight skyward. But the Crusader's legs were wrapped around his foe, dragging his opponent with him, their forms locked in a violent ascent.

In a blinding instant, Azgoth's form dissolved into a writhing cloud of profane mist, slithering in a blur toward the shipping frigate he'd arrived on, leaving the Knight falling, then hovering alone, his armor's runes dimming

Angar's heart sank, and a cold weight settled in his chest. Azgoth must've set up a mainstay, anchored within the ship.

The Nofelim was slipping through their grasp. Angar knew the Shattered Aegis Crusaders couldn't breach the frigate's formidable shields. Their battlecycle couldn't pursue it through Tribute's turbulent skies for long.

Pain seared through his body, but Angar hobbled forward, his cybernetic legs driving through the dirt in desperate strides.

He had to reach the shipper before it escaped. He could phase into it and sabotage its engines. Or something, anything.

It was a long shot, but he wouldn't give up. He couldn't just let Azgoth flee.

The colossal Crusader descended, his heavy armor like a wall of rune-etched steel, blocking Angar's path. "Hold, Knight," he rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant bellow, like the toll of a cathedral bell. "We've got this."

Angar's jaw tightened, sending pain spiking through his shattered jaw and cheekbone. He tried to talk but none of the necessary parts of his face to do so were in working order, only causing him more pain.

But he doubted this man's claim. Angar could phase through and do something.

The shipper's engines roared to life as the battlecycle's turret unleashed a torrent of particle beams at it, violet-white lances that hammered the shields, scattering sparks that'd never breach as the vessel diverted all power to its engines, creeping skyward in a blaze of flame, escaping.

Then explosions rocked South Point. The ground erupted in geysers of molten stone, prefab structures vaporizing in fiery blooms, the dome's false light flickering under the onslaught, its loud hum grinding louder and clanking under the bombardment's roar.

The colossal Crusader lunged, his sturdy armor shielding Angar from the destruction.

An orbital bombardment tore through the atmosphere, a massive volley of searing light and concussive force, their incandescent trails splitting the sky.

The majority missed the frigate, but enough beams struck true. The ship's shields buckled, then shattered, its hull tearing apart in a blaze of twisted metal and blooming fire. The wreckage plummeted like a blazing comet, crashing southward in a thunderous explosion, shaking the ground.

The Crusader launched skyward, his armor's runes flaring with Holy light. A moment later, the battlecycle followed, its grav-engines purring as it pursued the wreckage.

Angar scanned around for his hammer, not seeing it. He didn't have time to search. He staggered after them, his mangled body protesting with every step, blood leaking from pretty much everywhere.

Before he passed beyond the dome's influence, the distant clamor of battle reached him, with weapons blasting ceaselessly, the screech of tortured metal, and roars of unholy fury.

He stepped into Tribute's heavier gravity and burning clouds, each hobbling stride bringing him closer to the fight, his ruptured abdomen's agony flaring with every brutal step.

Finally, Angar neared the combat, cresting a rise only to halt, fury blooming in his chest, nearly eclipsing his pain.

The shipper's twisted wreckage had violated his cathedral's sacred stones, destroying what work had been done.

He lurched down the slope, hobbling toward the clash of combat with desperate haste, his thigh nearly refusing to bear his weight.

Reaching the scene, his heart blazed with a savage glee. The colossal Crusader hunched down, a plasma-saw snarling as it carved through Azgoth's neck with a grinding spray of ichor, the Nofelim's tentacles lashing wildly.

The Armiger-clad Knight, steady on the battlecycle fifty or so meters away, kept the turret trained on Azgoth's prone form.

The Fallen's barbed chains unleashed a piercing wail, their tormented shrieks echoing to the distant mountains.

A sudden explosion of green, profane energy erupted from Azgoth, blasting outward, writhing like a storm cloud, corrupting the air. Then its malevolent glow collapsed imploded, siphoning the air inward with a sickly hiss before dispersing.

The Nofelim's tendrils twitched a final spasm, then fell limp as the head thudded to the ground.

The Holy Knight stood, his massive armor aglow with runes, clutching Azgoth's severed head in his gauntlet, snapping the plasma-saw to his belt. The cyclopean eye, once a baleful red, now stared blankly as ichor oozed from the ragged neck.

Righteous exultation filled Angar's chest.

Both Spirit and Angar were certain this fight would be his end. But against all odds, he endured, and his foe was vanquished.

Sure, Seraphs had flown in and sealed the Fallen's doom, but Angar had landed a dozen blows, at least, standing toe-to-toe with a powerful Nofelim, fighting like a champion of ancient legend. And lived.

He was in the first Realm, only the second Tier, and he'd stood as a bulwark against Azgoth and survived. He saved everyone at South Point, all the women and children. Well, with some help from Spirit there.

The righteous exultation was pushed aside, replaced by swelling pride. He truly was superior to all others. None could claim that was a hollow boast.

He was beginning to suspect Spirit hadn't chosen him, or not directly. Maybe the Lord Himself had chosen him?

His Vitalulum harness pulsed warmly, flooding his battered body with healing. He doubted his Vinculeparo necklace could do anything for his shattered armor.

Then, as expected, Holy Theosis etched a message into his cybernetic eye. He couldn't wait to read this one.

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