The paladins surge forward on the bishop’s command, blades igniting with holy light, and I just smirk at the sight of it.
"So violence is allowed in here," I say, almost amused. "Good to know."
Viperess shifts forward instantly, shadow already coiling ready, but I raise a hand without even looking at her.
"Stay back. This one’s mine."
She stops, tail flicking, watching with quiet interest instead of intervening. Frostine and Demitress do the same, arms crossed, letting me have this.
The paladins close in, eight of them, blades glowing bright and swinging in practiced unison — and I answer by pulling from everything the system’s given me at once. Shadow spills out from my feet, curling fast to intercept the first strikes, deflecting blades wide off their intended lines. Frost follows right behind it, flash-freezing two of them mid-swing, ice creeping up their armor and locking their joints solid before they can recover.
They don’t back off even then, faith or stubbornness or both pushing the rest forward anyway. So I finish it with fire — a wide blast rolling out low across the floor, forcing the remaining paladins to break formation, stumbling back, weapons wavering.
That’s when I move.
I snatch a fallen paladin’s blade mid-motion, glowing steel settling comfortable in my grip like it was always meant to be there, and in one clean sweep — augmented strength, augmented speed, everything Viperess, Frostine, and Demitress lent me stacking together — I cleave through all eight of them at once, the strike carrying clean across the width of the sanctuary floor.
Screams erupt. Bodies drop, wounded but alive — I’m not here to slaughter faithful zealots, just to make a point they’ll actually remember. Panic spreads through the pews instantly, believers scrambling back from the center of the room, the ceremonial calm shattered completely.
The bishop’s face goes purple with fury, hands trembling at his sides.
"You— you dare spill blood in this sacred house—"
He looks between his fallen paladins and me, standing there with a stolen holy blade still glowing faint in my grip, and whatever composure he had left finally cracks entirely.
The bishop’s voice cracks out sharp, some command layered with old binding magic threaded straight into the Phoenix’s chains. "Attack him!"
She hesitates — I see it, that half-second where her golden eyes flick toward me like she’s fighting the compulsion itself. Then the bishop screams the command again, something guttural and ancient behind it, and her body jerks forward against her own will, flame igniting violent around her as she’s hurled straight at me.
I don’t get a chance to brace properly. She collides with me full force, and the impact sends us both crashing straight through the sanctuary wall, stone crumbling, dust and debris exploding outward into the courtyard beyond.
"Master!" Frostine’s voice cuts through the chaos, already moving.
"Stay," I call back, coughing dust, pushing myself up out of the rubble. "This one’s not done yet."
My jacket’s smoking, scorched clean through in patches, and I peel it off without much thought, tossing it aside into the wreckage. My skin stings where the flame caught bare, but nothing’s broken, nothing’s serious — the fire took the edge off my strength, not my resolve.
The Phoenix circles overhead in the open courtyard now, golden wings trailing embers, positioning for a second pass, that same conflicted fury still burning behind her eyes even as her body obeys the bishop’s compulsion instead of her own will.
"I’m not here to fight you," I call up at her, voice steady despite the ache in my chest.
She doesn’t listen — can’t listen, not really, not with whatever’s forcing her hand — and she dives again, flame trailing bright behind her like a falling star aimed straight at me.
This time I’m ready.
Frost answers my call instantly, ice crawling fast up my arms, across my chest, hardening into armor plated thick and gleaming even as flame roars toward me. I plant my feet, brace low, and the impact hits like a truck—
The flame overwhelms the ice almost instantly, cracking through the armor in jagged fractures, heat searing straight through to skin — but I push through it anyway, gritting against the burn, and close the last few feet by force. My hands catch her wings mid-strike, and I twist, using her own momentum against her, slamming her down into the courtyard stone, pinning her beneath me before she can pull free.
She thrashes once, flame roaring hot enough to blister, but I don’t let go.
I press my palm flat against her chest, right over the burning core of her, and I don’t wait for her to calm, don’t wait for permission this time — the compulsion’s still got its claws in her, and every second I hesitate is a second the bishop’s still puppeting her against her will.
[Beast State: Compelled — Override Available][Bind and Evolve? Y/N]
Yes.
The light that erupts isn’t like the others. Not gentle, not slow — it’s blinding, golden-white, a full detonation of divine flame ripping outward from where my hand touches her, and it catches me square in the chest, throwing me backward off her entirely, sending me skidding hard across the courtyard stone before I finally crash to a stop against a fallen column.
For a second, everything’s just white noise and ringing ears, smoke and golden light pulsing bright enough to blot out the whole courtyard.