The red alarms of Heaven still screamed across the shattered sky when the first angelic spear struck.

  Not at Danny. Not at the crew.

  It lanced straight through Rezok’s raised palm—the void sphere he’d been forming to erase them winked out in a burst of white-gold light. Obsidian skin sizzled; starlight veins flickered like dying bulbs.

  Rezok hissed—first real sound of pain all night. He yanked his hand back, black ichor dripping that evaporated into smoke before hitting the mud.

  Above, Gabriel (or the archangel facsimile Heaven deployed) hovered with six wings spread wide, face impassive, voice like rolling thunder wrapped in bureaucracy.

  “God of Death. Your interference has crossed the threshold. The anomaly is under containment review. Stand down or be corrected.”

  Rezok’s jagged smile returned, slower, sharper. “Heaven finally pulls its holy finger out of its ass. Took you long enough.”

  More portals ripped open. Dozens of armored seraphim descended—swords of ordered light, shields of compressed causality. Behind them, lesser choirs: wheels of eyes, floating blades, things that hurt to look at.

  Danny pushed to his feet in the cabin wreckage, ribs grinding, anomaly stuttering. Shawny was already beside him, one arm hanging limp but blade in the other hand. Big B hauled himself up, mech-arm whining at half-power. Fang shook off debris, wings ragged. Sir Dracks retrieved his sword, golden embers reigniting weakly.

  For one heartbeat, the crew thought Heaven might actually help.

  Then Rezok laughed—low, grinding—and the ground split.

  From every crack in the earth, his true team emerged.

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  Not mindless minions.

  Faithful. Named. Deadly.

  First came Veyra, the Shadow Sovereign—a lithe female figure wrapped in living darkness, eyes like twin eclipses. She moved like smoke given intent, twin daggers of condensed night in her hands.

  Beside her, Korath the Unyielding, a hulking brute of fused bone and void-metal, taller even than Big B, wielding a massive flail that trailed screaming souls.

  Then Lirien, the Whisperer—pale, ethereal, mouth stitched shut, communicating only through psychic razors that sliced minds before bodies.

  And behind them, dozens of elite void-knights—Rezok’s inner circle, the ones who’d passed every test of devotion.

  Rezok spread his arms. “You want order, Heaven? Come take it from my faithful.”

  The big fight truly began.

  Angels charged first—disciplined, formation-perfect. Spears of light met void-flails in explosions that cracked the forest floor. Veyra danced through seraphim ranks, daggers parting wings and halos alike. Korath swung his flail in wide arcs, pulping two lesser angels into golden mist.

  Danny’s crew didn’t wait for invitation.

  Danny roared and charged Veyra—fists blazing with anomaly rewinds. She met him blade-for-fist; every dodge she made, he rewound half a second to close the gap. First blood: his elbow cracked her jaw. She retaliated—dagger slashing across his chest, darkness seeping in like poison. Pain flared, but he rewound it, punched her sternum so hard she flew back ten feet.

  Shawny engaged Lirien. The Whisperer’s psychic blades hammered her mind—visions of every time she’d failed Danny, every loop where he died. Shawny snarled, blue blade severing the mental threads. “Not today.” She closed, slashed—Lirien’s stitches tore; a silent scream ripped the air.

  Big B vs. Korath: pure brute force. Mech-arm met flail in a clang that shook trees. Sparks and void-shards flew. Big B took a hit to the ribs—crunch—but laughed. “That all you got, big guy?” He grappled, lifted, slammed Korath into the ground hard enough to crater it.

  Fang harried from above—talons raking void-knights, wings buffeting angels who got too close. Sir Dracks anchored the center, golden fire holding a perimeter against both sides.

  For minutes, it was chaos—crew winning skirmishes, angels pushing Rezok back, shadows countering.

  Then Heaven turned.

  A seraph captain leveled a spear at Danny. “Anomaly detected. Priority eradication.”

  Gabriel’s voice cut in: “Containment, not destruction. Yet.”

  But the spear flew anyway.

  Danny rewound—barely—dodging by inches. “They’re not on our side!”

  Shawny yanked him back. “Never were.”

  The fight fractured into three-way madness: crew vs. Rezok’s team vs. Heaven’s enforcers.