I created the Old Gods and Outer Gods in America.

Elijah stared at the group of people outside the police line for three seconds.

Four wings flapped slowly behind him, and golden light illuminated half of his face, while the other half remained hidden in shadow.

Taking advantage of the opening, the fusion entity lashed out a tentacle made up of more than a dozen intertwined torsos, aiming for Elijah's side.

Elijah did not turn his head.

The two wings on the right side spread outwards at the same time, turning into blades, and cut the tentacle into three segments from the root.

His attention never left that group of people.

They were a group of clergy.

Nuns, priests, and deacons, dressed in various robes and vestments, knelt in two rows, holding their crosses high in their hands.

Their lips were moving; they were praying.

Even though the sound was several streets away, Elijah's ears could already hear every syllable.

"Our guardian angels, please bestow your grace..."

"Sweep away all filth, purify this defiled land..."

Elijah's pupils contracted slightly.

It wasn't because I was moved.

It's because he's calculating.

The fusion attacked again, its entire upper body leaning forward, and the "head" composed of hundreds of faces slammed towards Elijah. All the mouths opened at the same time, and the sound waves emitted shattered the remaining glass in half a street around them into powder.

Elijah did not dodge this time.

All four wings simultaneously folded forward, their tips converging into a cone shape, and the entire body transformed into a golden pillar of light that pierced through the right shoulder of the fused entity.

The moment it pierced through, its wings unfolded inside the fused body, and four blades cut simultaneously.

The fused body's right arm broke off at the shoulder joint.

That "arm," to be precise, was a giant fleshy pillar formed by the intertwined bodies of more than twenty infected individuals. It detached from the main body, tumbled one and a half times in the air, and crashed down, covered in a large amount of black blood and bits of flesh.

The direction was exactly outside the cordon, where the group of clergy were located.

Corbyn witnessed the entire process from the rooftop.

The impact of the fleshy pillar hitting the ground was tremendous, like a truck falling from the fifth floor. The shockwave overturned the outermost two rows of isolation barriers, sandbags exploded, and rubble and mud flew everywhere.

Even more deadly was the blood, which splattered across an area with a radius of over ten meters.

The seven or eight clergy kneeling at the front were the first to be affected; their robes, faces, and hands holding the cross were covered in this viscous liquid.

Some people screamed, some fell down, and some were injured by shards of debris, rolling on the ground clutching their heads.

But no one ran.

Most of them wiped the blood from their faces, knelt down again, and continued to pray, their voices even louder and more devout than before, as if the disaster itself was part of a miracle.

Elijah flew out from the remains of the fused body, his four wings stained with black blood, and hovered in the air.

He looked down at the group of clergymen covered in blood.

Then he descended.

Golden light fell on the outer edge of the warning line. Elijah's feet touched the ground, his wings folded behind him, and his steps were neither hurried nor slow.

An old priest kneeling at the front raised his head, his face covered in blood, revealing a pair of cloudy but fanatical eyes. His voice trembled as he said, "An angel...an angel has descended..."

The surrounding clergy all looked up.

Some people cried, some trembled and couldn't speak, and some raised the cross even higher.

Elijah stood before them.

With his four wings half-spread, golden light enveloped his entire body, making him appear holy and untouched by the battlefield.

He spoke.

"You have been infected by the demons."

The voice was soft and calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to oneself.

The old priest paused for a moment. He looked down at the dark brown blood on his body, then looked up at Elijah.

"Angel, we..."

First wing horizontal slash.

The old priest's upper and lower body separated so quickly that his mouth was still in the shape of a speech when the crucifix fell from between his severed fingers and hit the ground with a clatter.

Screams erupted.

It is the living, breathing screams of humans, filled with fear and pain.

Elijah's eyes lit up.

The second wing pierced the chest of a nun who was trying to stand up and run away. The third wing swept across a row of kneeling deacons, and the heads of four people flew off at the same time. The fourth wing pinned down a young priest who was curled up on the ground with his crucifix, piercing through his back to his chest.

The screams were like a switch being flipped.

Elijah walked among the clergy, his wings opening and closing slowly and leisurely, as if he were doing something that didn't require rushing.

Corbyn watched this scene from the rooftop, completely frozen in place.

He turned to look at Morrison.

Morrison's face was hidden behind a protective mask, so his expression was not visible, but his hand holding the rooftop railing did not move, and he did not say a word.

Corbyn opened his mouth, then closed it again.

What was he trying to say? That angels were killing people? That those people weren't infected?

he does not know.

After all, he always believed in one thing: professionals should do professional things. In terms of identifying demons, he felt that he was not as professional as angels.

Elijah killed them all.

Within a minute, all twenty-three clergy members lay dead in pools of blood, their crosses, rosaries, and Bibles scattered on the ground, soaked in blood.

The live stream went viral online.

Several daring reporters used telephoto lenses to capture the entire process; the images are blurry but still recognizable.

The video was shared 30,000 times within forty seconds of being uploaded.

The comments section is divided into two camps.

"Angels are killing people? Aren't those just ordinary clergy?"

"Look closely, those people are covered in the blood of infected! The fusion body's arm smashed into them; that kind of blood will cause infection upon contact!"

"The angel did the right thing. If you get infected, you're not human anymore. He was stopping the virus from spreading."

"But they're still talking, still praying. Can a normal infected person do that?"

"What do you know? Have you ever heard of an incubation period? By the time they turn into monsters, it'll be too late to kill them!"

"Angels are fighting desperately on the front lines, and you're just pointing fingers from behind?"

The last comment received 120,000 likes, completely silencing the dissenting voices.

Most people choose to believe in angels.

This is faith; it needs no logic.

Elijah stood among the corpses.

My spine started burning.

It was even more intense than last time; the heat didn't slowly climb up from the tailbone, but exploded simultaneously from two points on the spine.

One is in the lumbar spine, and the other is below the scapula; both locations bulge and tear the skin simultaneously.

Both wings burst forth from its body at the same time.

The Fifth Wing.

The Sixth Wing.

Newly sprouted wings, shrouded in blood mist, unfurled, six wings arranged in three pairs on the back, three layers in total, perfectly symmetrical.

Six-winged angel.

In the sequence of angelology, it is the being closest to the throne of God.

Six wings never cease, two wings cover the face, two wings cover the feet, and two wings fly.

Those who were still praying, and all the believers who saw this scene through the live broadcast at home, in church, or in shelter, knelt down almost at the same time.

"Six-winged...Seraph..."

"The angels have killed even more demons and grown stronger!"

"God has not abandoned us!"

Tears, prayers, hymns.

Countless people wept in front of their screens, repented before the crosses, and sang hymns amidst the ruins.

Corbin stood on the rooftop, the wind making the hood of his protective suit flutter loudly.

He watched as the six-winged figure rose into the air again, flying towards the fused entity.

Then he looked down at the corpses below the rooftop that weren't completely cold yet.

The cross was soaked in blood, and its metal surface reflected the golden light from the sky.

Morrison finally spoke, his voice coming from behind his mask as if it were through something.

"Walk."

Corbyn didn't move.

"Where to?"

Morrison had already climbed over the edge of the rooftop and was heading towards the fire escape.

"Get away from me."