Chapter LXIX: Excitavit
The chapel walls quake under the weight of battle. Screeches echo. Shadows twist. The air is thick with smoke, fire, and cries of war.
Adrian slashes forward with all his strength, his staff cracking into one of the devils. It vanishes in a burst of black ash—but another immediately takes its place. Then another.
Wyn twirls, pouring palm oil and chanting under her breath, barely keeping them at bay.
"Adrian!" she gasps. "We're running out of oil!"
"And strength," Adrian mutters, staggering back. "There's too many!"
The shadows close in, demons snarling as they leap from the balconies and crawl out from under broken pews.
Then—rushing footsteps.
From the chapel entrance, two figures burst in, robes flowing, swords in hand, crosses around their necks glinting
