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

“You have a significant portion of this city under Hell’s influence,” Cyth says. “I was sent here to study the impact you would make in the future, but I was taken back by how many cultists you had recruited. Even now… I feel I was right to not underestimate you.” Flattery, they assume, is the key to keeping Oriphi distracted. With a trap certainly between her and them, it was the safest strategy. If they could get Oriphi to ramble, then they could understand the design of the trap, and even possibly gleam valuable information.

The ball was in Oriphi’s court, and her smug smile had only grown wider. “Heh, cultists? We here at Belz call them associates, angel. They have employee benefits and everything. A really adaptable sick-day program, and dental.” Her pacing on the stage came to a halt, and she waved a finger at up above. “No life insurance, though. Pity.”

So, her cultists were employees, Cyth gathers from Orihpi. It was not an unfamiliar strategy, for devils to coerce membership from the human public by offering payment and other services. An entire business of this scale, however, was unprecedented. Most likely, this one building was just one branch of Oriphi’s web, made alongside other devils in other parts of the world. Restraining her for interrogation became even more of a priority; with her in Heaven’s possession, they could track down any other parts of this business.

Subtly, Cyth shifts in their seat, quietly leaning forward and bringing their legs inward. “This isn’t an ordinary scheme for devils,” they say. “It’s far more intricate than what I normally come across. Was mass pollution truly your end-goal?”

Oriphi raises her chin. “Pollution? I hadn’t considered it,” she answers, a quick shrug for emphasis. “My only goal… is to bring people together. Create a family and whatnot! Hundreds of people work here, and in other sectors of the city, too. All of them have their own needs, their own dreams. I hoped to share Hell’s power with them -- give them that boost they need in life. I saw this building be made from the ground-up, a symbol of everyone coming together. Three years of construction… all lost, because of some fickle angel…”

“You’re manipulating these people, Oriphi,” Cyth states. “You tricked them into lending their support for Hell. There was never a benevolent intention.”

Oriphi shakes her head into the tips of her fingers. “Angels… You all truly are blinded by that shining goddess of yours.” She spreads her arms to either side, a gesture of welcoming towards the giant person ahead of her. “I see now why you didn’t prefer an open discussion: you have no ability to listen! A shame, but I do have matters to attend to.” She steps backwards, towards the black curtain at the back of the stage. “Ta-ta! I must be off! I have a business to restore, after all.”

Cyth rose, not willing to let Oriphi escape, nor mislead them. Up on their feet, they do not chase after Oriphi on stage, but instead turn behind them. A long window stretches along the upper part of the back wall; it’s the control center for the auditorium, allowed a full view of the stage its workers were meant to manage. During their chat, Cyth had realized the oddity of the auditorium lights working despite the wreckage all around it. Someone had to be powering them, and there was only one location a magic-user could be doing such a thing.

Peering into the control room immediately reveals what Cyth had suspected. Crouching behind a panel of buttons and levers was Oriphi, her appearance more frazzled than it had been on stage -- that Oriphi down below was in fact an illusion, projected by Oriphi to guide her into whatever trap had been set. To sell the trick, Oriphi had to literally set the stage, and with flickering electricity flowing between her hands and into a power console, she could create the scene of a fully-functioning corporate stage.

But when Oriphi finally glanced out the window, it was clear to her how her illusion had failed. “Shit!” she unglamorously exclaims. In her surprise, the electricity she generates is lost in a fizzle. A second later, the auditorium lights all begin to blank, set by set. Before the final rack of lights die out, Cyth punches through the glass. Orihipi’s gasp is lost in the shattering sound, glass falling all around her before she’s taken into a grasping hand half as big as she is.

“Of course you would succumb to little tricks like this,” Cyth sighs over their captive. Her squirming is hard to maintain, but when both hands are applied, Oriphi is firmly locked in the two fists, only one arm free to smack at the fingers. “Many of your cultists died from my attack on the building. There was little more magical energy you could draw from them. Traps and lies are all you had left.”

“Grr…! You have no idea what I am capable of!” Oriphi yells, clawing her nails into Cyth’s fingers. An increased tightness on her body forces her to stop. “This… isn’t over…! I’ll rebuild this empire…! E-Everyone was counting on me--”

Ka-thooom! Both Cyth and Oriphi flinch as a loud crack of a noise bellows from up above, accented by the trickling of dust and debris. A tear in the ceiling breaks into a hole, allowing a build-up of rubble to pour through like sand in an hourglass. More holes burst open and support beams creak from the pressure. Follow-up explosions rumble the celestials’ surroundings, warning them of the imminent collapse.

Though blind in such darkness, Cyth rings Orpihi close under her watch. “What trap is this?!” they demand to know. “You’ll seal us both in here!”

“I know as much, ya’ twit!” Orihpi shouts, her voice barely audible over the crumbling ceiling. She shields herself with her one freed arm. “I wouldn’t do this to myself! What did you do to cause this?!”

“I didn’t--!” Cyth is stopped when a large section of the ceiling above them cracks apart, erupting with huge chunks of debris. An iron girder nearly impales them from above, but a quick duck to the side saves them from a terrible blow. Tripped by the piles of rubble, however, Cyth collapses to their knees, immediately feeling the flood of destruction weigh down their legs.

It’s all coming down, Cyth thinks, forcing their mind to a necessary calm. I’ll be trapped under all this weight -- I have to do something!

Another break in the ceiling pushes Cyth to think of a solution. They could grow and attempt to break free, but they hadn’t done that earlier for a reason: if Oriphi’s trap was still set, what problems would that create? Yet, it was the most logical approach. Shrinking was an option to hideout until everything settled, but that was a risk as well, including the possibility of Oriphi escaping. There was little time to cast a proper spell to secure Oriphi and prevent such a thing -- it was one or the other, as determined by yet another explosion detonating over their heads.

All at once, a fissure splits across the ceiling. Catwalks and lights collapse, dragging down with them what little support keeps the structure together. A wall of dust filters into the auditorium before it finally gives way entirely. As a skyscraper’s worth of scrap comes hailing down, Cyth leaps where their instincts take them…

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