Children of the Ordo Chapter 3

The news stung Father Paul Wakefield hard that he felt a hole in his heart. He gasped at the thought of the young Heather Smith, bound and gagged and slowly burning as the spirit of some Demon consumed her soul. He wondered if the Angels above or his Holy Protectorates could even save someone in those position. He shook the thought away. She does not deserve that.

"Let's move." Wakefield said as he nodded at Anderson.

The quartet moved out of the forest; branch and twigs snapped crisply beneath their boots. Leaves and shadows covered mostly their vision but that does not hindered them. Moonlight shone brightly amidst dark bluish nightsky. City lights sparkled far ahead; ocean separated the woods and the city by hundred meters. They moved silently, glided among the shadows and headed towards the fire ahead.

Out of nowhere, a man in his early twenties appeared. He was wearing a black shirt, black pants and a black bracelet on his left hand. Black eyeliner outlined his brown eyes and his lips matched the color of it. Wakefield aimed at his direction and fired three shots. He fell on the ground, dead. A silver knife dropped from his right hand. The sound of metal music playing and loud cheering was growing in volume as they neared.

Within Wakefield's mind, adrenaline is rushing. His heartbeat was pulsing fast. This was the first time he ever had been so hyper. The thought of revenge for those virgins they have killed lingered in his mind. Realizing that his thought would not only be a distraction but evil in itself, he muttered a Prayer to Saint Michael in Latin, hoping to expel the thoughts. Far ahead, his teammates kept on advancing. He wasn't sure if they have encountered some enemies along the way but given the fact that their rifles are silence, it was likely and he just didn't hear it. He moved further, catching a motion on his left. Another gothic kid came out, holding a knife. He fired four shots, hitting him squarely in the chest. He whirled behind him and detected another assailant. He was too close for Wakefield to raise his weapon at so he simply launched his right elbow at the kid's face, forcing him to take a step back. He shoved the weapon's butt at his face, blood had flowed freely.

Wakefield sent a kick at the kid's chest which took him down. He detected another movement behind the kid and raised his rifle at that direction. Without hesitation, he fired twice, then another shot. A shadow fell to the ground. He aimed at the squirming kid below him and ended his life with a shot to the forehead. He gazed far ahead and moved to follow the other priests towards the direction of the black mass.

Upon arrival, they hid behind a bush. Wakefield could see a lot of teenagers in the same attire as the first ones they have encountered earlier. They were wildly cheering while at the same time, muttering black prayers in the air and blaspheming the Name of the Lord altogether. In the middle was a burning pile of wood with a stake pointing upwards. A figure was tied on to it. It was already burning, charred and reduced to nothing but black flesh.

"Alright, on the count of three, we hail them with bullet fire and head to the center, dump these grenades at them and run to extraction."

"But if the ritual is complete," Anderson interrupted. "What do we do?"

"Let's just hope it doesn't happen." Johnson replied.

Altogether, they sprang out of the bush and pulled the trigger with the muzzle aimed at the back of the crowding teenagers. Three, six, twelve have fell in their attacks. The Cultists turned at them, all armed with silver knives and started to rush them. Wakefield focused his attention to what is in front of him. He sighted his first target and bursted someone's head. He moved three steps forward, whirled to the left and fired, downing a Cultist. He aimed to the right and fired, riddling his chest with holes. He continued moving; he noticed that his fellow priests have been keeping pace with him. They moved, advancing slowly but surely, wiping out opposition after opposition.

Wakefield leapt back as a Cultist launched herself carelessly at him. He returned fire, hitting her in the chest. They moved again, he noticed that they were five meters away from the funeral pyre in front. The light had left blank spots in his vision but he made sure that it does not stop him from his function. He moved carefully, firing at targets after another, taking them down. He stopped to reload, removing the empty magazine and replacing it with a fresh new one, then continued moving. He fired another shot, bursting another head with a bullet. He whirled to his right and received a kick in return. He slid across the muddy ground, weapon knocked away from his hand. He stood up and was about to retrieve it when his assailant charged again.

Wakefield shuffled his feet as he sent his left knee at the jaw of his enemy. Taking a step back, the kid righted himself but a left hook and a right uppercut greeted his face once more. Shuffling his feet again, the priest sent a 45 degree kick at the back of the assailant's neck, knocking him out cold. Father Wakefield wandered his eyes at the sea of panicking crowd and searched for his weapon. When he caught sight of it, he jumped towards it and grabbed it. Another Cultist jumped towards him. He rolled away and aimed at the enemy in pointblank range. He showered bullets in his face, killing him.

The flames in front of them has started to rise. Wakefield could feel the heat in his face; it was too hot to be a regular fire made from gasoline. He realized one thing; it's Hellfire.

"Father Wakefield!" Johnson screamed.

Father Wakefield glanced behind him and saw Johnson pinned down. He has a stab wound on his chest, yet he was still standing. He thought that the wound didn't penetrate deep enough which is why he's still standing. Beside him were three more Cultists dead. "Toss this in the fire!" He yelled as he hurled a belt of grenades clustered together. Grabbing it with his hands, he moved across the field, jumping and sprinting. He finally reached the offerings and stopped at a safe distance. He pulled all the pins and tossed it at the burning pile.

The explosion made it worse; the impact had knocked Father Wakefield off balance. He moved backwards and watched as a shadow appeared amidst the flames. Slowly, it took form of an armored Demon; its head was a burning skeleton, body encased in bulky green armor trimmed in silver. Its shoulders were mounted with twin cannons. Hands were equipped with Ragepyre Shotgun, a rusting weapon with big housing.

"Die for our Dark Lord!!" It yelled. "For the Blood Slaughter Legion!!" It charged at Wakefield with an increased speed. Knowing it was his end, Father Wakefield closed his eyes and prayed. He was glad that the Father was going to retrieve him from this evil world.

"I don't think so!" A voice yelled behind him.

For the first time, Father Wakefield has come face to face with one of the most powerful beings in the world. He could see another figure in white armor with black trimmings. Hand occupied with a huge blade. His long black hair hung loose, his eyes showed fury and anger. "Protectorate Jemwolf, reporting in." He muttered.

"You Savages are pests!" The Demon Legionnaire yelled in a growling voice. "Die in the name of Hades!" It charged forward with its shotgun aimed. Jemwolf whirled counter-clockwise as he swung his sword, severing the Legionnaire's right leg. He successfully tripped the Demon off-balance. He stabbed its chest, driving the blade deeper and deeper until the Demon yelled.

"Do both of us a favor," Jemwolf says as he pried the shotgun off its armored fingers. "Stay in Hell and never return." He said, pumping the shotgun. "And while you're at it, tell your ugly masters I said hi!" He fired the shot. He turned behind him and saw Father Wakefield on the ground. He offered him a hand and he gladly took it.

Fathers Johnson, Atkinson and Anderson stood in silence as Jemwolf and Father Wakefield approached them. The Protectorate grinned as he pumped the shotgun.

"Don't just stand there! Make some fireworks!!" He yelled as he and the priests aimed their weapons at the Cultists and began firing.

[END]