Angelic - Part V [Patron-Guided] (Patreon)

There was no mistaking that a devil’s influence was hidden somewhere within the building’s ruins. The ping had been too strong, and it was the perfect position for a devil to maintain control over operations. Confident they would find their target, Cyth points to an empty intersection in front of the smoldering debris. Their long finger jabs into the pavement and creates a crater in the smoke-filled ,road, acting as their landing space. Most crowds had fled an adequate distance from the destruction, but Cyth mentally prepared themself for the inevitable interaction with humankind. To take such a small form was to invite some sort of backlash from the mobs, but over hundreds and hundreds of years, Cyth knew better than to be ambushed by human emotion.

A glow takes over their body like a curtain. Wind swirls as holy magic concentrates around Cyth, wrapping their body with shapeshifting power. Before the light claims their face, they close their eyes and breathe. It happens instantly for them, so that when their eyes open next, they see how the world has been reshaped. Standing in the exact area the finger had claimed, Cyth is now a fraction of their former gargantuan size. At this new height, they are still a giant compared to any human, rivaling the tallness of street lights and telephone poles. Onlookers that had turned their gaze away from the magical light are now agasp at the development, having witnessed their overruler shrink down to such a tamer, more reasonable scale.

Cyth immediately continues towards the field of ruins. Their footsteps swing past and over the rows of abandoned cars before their feet crunch into the jagged remains of the building. At no moment does it phase them to be standing where their finger once occupied, unbothered by the level of destruction they so casually caused. They look at their own handiwork with a hint of disgust; it was fun and quick to crumble the tower down to its base, but the result was a wasteland that had to be waded and worked through in order to find their target. A beige smoke pollutes the air, dust that billowed into a fog after the meteoric attack. It’s enough to make Cyth cough and nearly regret taking such a small form.

Fortunately, their current size still enables them sheer strength that no human can compete with. The largest chunks of debris had already been pushed aside earlier, but the leveled floors and walls still had to be broken into, and steel beams littered every path, requiring Cyth to lift and toss them aside. Beneath their feet, the misshapen ground is flattened by their weight, their bare soles magically resistant to any obstructions that would otherwise pain them. Their holy powers allow them to have a leisurely search through the devastated environment, but as many angels do, Cyth detests physical labor, and that was evident in their grunting, their sighing, their blank expression.

The first minutes of Cyth’s search had been uneventful, but they then sensed a presence on the approach. Not just one person, but multiple people -- humans from the crowd, encroaching onto the ruins. From their knelt position, Cyth turned their head and back to the boundaries of the wastes. Not unexpectedly, rescue workers were closing in for their own search for survivors. They brought with them large tools meant to upheave and shovel the debris, but Cyth already knew how little use they would be. Their two-fingered strike had wiped clean most life that had been in the building, but they sensed that a few humans had survived and were embedded in the wreckage. They would not interfere with the rescue workers and their noble goal; as long as they kept to themselves, Cyth had no reason to involve themself.

But just after turning back around from watching the rescue workers, Cyth felt the ground beneath them crumble and break. Gracelessly, the angel’s left leg plummets through a floor and into the depths of the ruins. The other legs falters to a knee, tripped by the surprise pitfall. The rest of the debris they’re situated on shifts and cracks under their immense weight, but manages to hold together. The drop may have startled Cyth, but what intrigues them is the discovery of such emptiness lying underneath them. A swing of their submerged foot found plenty of space hidden in the destruction, an entire room or chamber that had survived the demolition. Was it by happenstance that such a room had endured the chaos, or was it by design? Cyth asked themself as much as they ripped their leg free from the floor, resulting in a narrow hole that peered into the darkness.

“If I was a devil…” Cyth muttered to themself as they got onto their knees where the hole had been made. They clear a space around themself, then begin prying open the floor, which is in fact a knocked-down wall buried under a layer of concrete and steel. Progress is quick with such raw power, and soon an opening wide enough for the angel is created. The darkness within is still too thick to gaze into, but Cyth immediately detects a flicker of life, a taste of something wicked. If not a devil, then certainly something just as bad had to lie within.

Before diving in, however, multiple shouts reach Cyth which makes them hesitate. They turn back towards the rescue workers with an unamused expression, only lazily twisting their back without getting off their knees. A collection of seven or so humans march over uneven levels of debris to approach Cyth, maintaining a fair distance from them. They dress in bright, durable uniforms and boots meant for scrounging through such ruins, and they don masks for breathing in the smoky, gas-ridden air. Despite this, their gestures and words are quite clear; they want Cyth to cease, a thought that makes Cyth scoff under their breath.

“And after I had permitted you to do your business…” Cyth remarks quietly. They raise their head but stay where they are seated, casting a glare down onto the most frontward human of the group. It is only that one that is bold enough to continue waving and speaking after having the titan’s attention, a trait that earns Cyth’s curiosity if nothing else. “I am an angel at work,” they first warn, “and I may have stumbled upon what I am looking for. Why do you disrupt me?”

“That’s why we came! W-We saw you trip into something!” the leading rescue worker announces, his hands cupped over the filtered mouthpiece of his mask. “There could be survivors there! Let us through first! We could save lives, even just one!”

Cyth’s gaze narrows on this man. The others behind him rally in support and their collective urges forward, aggressively wanting to search the area. Cyth ponders how to respond, considering as well that it’s possible the life they detect is that of civilians. It would be a lie to tell them that no signs of life are down the hole, but that would also swiftly dismiss the group -- assuming the group believed them. Humans, Cyth had to remind themself, were so often irrational little creatures, and predicting how they’ll react to celestial direction was never consistent.

“Please! Someone could be dying, we need to get in!” the man continues. His fists coil and swing at his sides, “Dammit, you’ve killed so many already…! Let us look, please, and you can go back to your damn search!”

Cyth sighs and glances at the hole under them. In order to proceed quickly, they have to answer the plight of these humans. They rise to their feet, displaying their power without even a flick of their wrist, their size alone diminishing the riled energy of the rescue workers. As they fret backwards away from the titan, Cyth provides them their answer…