Richard and Ronald approached St. Peter's Basilica, its sheer scale and grandeur pressing down on them like the weight of centuries. The basilica was a masterpiece of Renaissance architecture, its colossal dome piercing the sky, an emblem of divine authority. Massive Corinthian columns framed the entrance, standing as silent sentinels to the faith that had shaped civilizations.
Above them, statues of Christ, John the Baptist, and eleven apostles lined the roof of the façade, carved in immaculate white marble. Each figure stood tall, gazing over St. Peter's Square as if guarding the holy grounds. Their solemn expressions seemed to judge all who entered—a reminder of heaven's watchful eyes.
But one of the statues looked… wrong.
It was bulkier than the others, its posture too rigid, too imposing. Unlike the finely sculpted apostles, this one had no hair, its bald head smooth and almost unnatural under the midday sun. It loomed near the edge of the basilica's roof, its marble eyes staring downward, as if watching them specifically.
Richard narrowed his eyes slightly, but after a moment, he dismissed it. Probably some artistic oversight. Or maybe an ugly saint they didn't feel like refining..
As the duo moved forward, the bronze doors of the entrance loomed ahead, adorned with intricate biblical reliefs. The heavy scent of burning incense and aged stone filled the air, mingling with the murmurs of prayers carried on the wind.
Ronald gave a slow whistle. "Damn. No matter how many times I see it, this place still looks like the gateway to heaven."
Richard smirked. "Maybe for them. For us? It's just another battlefield."
The two stepped into St. Peter's Square, the vast open space designed to embrace the faithful. The colonnades, crafted by Bernini, stretched in an elegant curve, enclosing the thousands of visitors who wandered beneath the watchful gaze of the saints. The obelisk at the square's center stood defiantly, a relic of ancient Egypt, its presence a stark contrast to the Christian monuments surrounding it.
As they approached the entrance, a strange tension filled the air. The bronze doors loomed ahead, adorned with intricate biblical reliefs. The heavy scent of burning incense and aged stone filled the air, mingling with the murmurs of prayers carried on the wind.
They stepped toward the entrance—
And were stopped mid-step. But they weren't
It was like walking into an invisible wall. An unseen force repelled them, its presence cold and absolute. The air shimmered slightly where their hands touched, as if a translucent veil separated them from the sacred halls within.
Ronald frowned and pressed his palm against the barrier. A faint ripple spread outward, but the force didn't budge. "Tch. Divine energy. They really don't want us inside."
Richard clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Looks like they've made some adjustments with their entry access over the years. I wonder what happened to 'All are welcome in,"
Ronald cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, they probably set it up after the war, to prevent 'Demons' like us from entering their sacred sanctum," he muttered. "So, do we break it down or find another way in?"
Richard glanced up at the statues again, his gaze lingering on the bald, bulky figure. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face, but he kept it to himself.
"We find another way in," he muttered.
Richard and Ronald turned away from the basilica's entrance, stepping back toward St. Peter's Square. The vast expanse, once alive with murmuring tourists and fluttering pigeons, now stretched before them in eerie silence.
Richard frowned. "Wasn't this place… busier a minute ago?"
Ronald glanced around, noticing the sudden emptiness. The once scattered clusters of tourists, snapping photos and marveling at the architecture, were gone. No idle chatter, no camera clicks, no footsteps... just a heavy, unnatural stillness.
Ronald exhaled through his nose. "Yeah… this ain't right. It's like they set up a... A twin dimension. he muttered in realization. "Bloody hell, this wasn't a coincidence at all,"
Richard's sharp eyes scanned the area. "They know we're here."
Ronald grinned. "Of course, they do. The Vatican's full of cowards, but they're not stupid. They probably sensed our presence the moment we landed in Rome."
Richard stepped forward, . "Well, we're here now," he voiced out, directing his comment to no one in particular. "You can all show yourselves so we can get this over with,"
Just as the tension thickened...
Creak.
A subtle, grating noise came from above. Instinctively, both of them snapped their heads up...
And there it was. The statue.
The one that had been too bulky, too bald, too unnatural.
It had moved.
Its head, once frozen in its sculpted pose, had now turned, its hollow, marble gaze locked onto them. A crack split across its face as if forming a scowl, its inhuman stillness replaced by something more… sentient.
Ronald raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'll be damned."
Richard smirked. "Knew it."
He casually tilted his head at the statue, eyes brimming with disdain. "You look like a knockoff Michelangelo threw away. What, did they run out of talent when they made you?"
A deep frown formed on the statue's face, its sculpted brow furrowing as if offended. Then, It growled.
A low, resonant sound, like stone grinding against stone, rumbled from its unmoving mouth. Dust cascaded from its body, as if it were awakening from centuries of slumber.
Ronald snorted. "Oh no. You hurt its feelings."
Richard chuckled, he opened his mouth to throw another insult, but was interrupted.
Shhfff!
A sudden shift in the air. A rustle of fabric. Then, some figures emerged.
Ten people, clad in flowing white and blue robes, materialized around them. They formed a loose circle, their presence silent yet imposing.
Their garments bore golden sigils, their hoods pulled low over their faces. Each one carried a staff or blade, their postures poised... not aggressive, but commanding.
Ronald cracked his knuckles. "Oh, great. More self-righteous cultists."
Richard sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Let me guess… you guys are here to 'cleanse' us, right?"
No one answered. Instead they all took a battle stance, which clearly implied that they weren't there for a welcome ceremony.
Meanwhile, the statue above rumbled, shifting its weight, its ancient form preparing to descend.
The tension thickened like a storm cloud about to break. The robed figures stood motionless, their faces obscured by their hoods, yet their presence pressed against the air... heavy, unnatural, suffocating.
Above them, the statue's marble joints cracked, shedding tiny flakes of stone as it prepared to move.
Ronald exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "So… what's the deal? Y'all just gonna stand there looking all mysterious, or do we start throwing hands?"
One of the figures took a step forward, their robes billowing slightly despite the absence of wind. When they spoke, their voice was deep, distorted, almost inhuman.
"You do not belong here."
Richard scoffed. "Yeah, no kidding. You guys put up that little barrier to keep us out." He tilted his head toward the basilica entrance. "Gotta say, that's rude as hell."
The figure didn't respond. Instead, another voice, female this time, spoke from the left.
"This place is sacred. You are tainted."
Ronald chuckled darkly. "Wow. Tainted, huh? And here I thought the church was all about forgiveness and acceptance."
Richard stepped forward, deliberately invading their space, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know what's funny?" he mused. "We weren't even here for you. But now?" He grinned. "Now you have my full attention."
But just then, a rumbling growl split through the air. The statue moved.
With a deafening crack, it broke free from its pedestal, shards of marble tumbling down as it descended in a slow, calculated motion. Despite its bulk, it landed without a tremor, its hulking form towering over them like a silent, ancient guardian.
Its stone-carved eyes glowed faintly, flickering with an eerie golden light.
Ronald sighed, rolling his shoulders. "You guys really wanna do this?"
The leader of the robed figures lifted their staff, the golden sigil on its tip flaring with energy.
"We do not negotiate with the cursed."
Richard smirked. "All right, then. Shall we?"
And then
They attacked.
The robed figures surged forward, weapons flashing under the morning sun, their movements too fast for ordinary humans.
The moment the first strike was thrown, the square erupted into chaos.
Richard and Ronald moved like twin shadows, their instincts honed by countless battles. The robed figures, quick and disciplined, unleashed a barrage of blue energy blasts, the glowing orbs crackling through the air like divine judgment.
But Richard was already gone.
In a blur, he twisted sideways, a pulse of the same blue energy flickering around his hands. His eyes, now a deep, glowing blue mirrored theirs. His lips curled
"You all reek of fealty, blind fealty," he muttered. "And that gives me strength,"
With a flick of his wrist, the energy shifted, solidifying into a long, jagged blade. Then he moved.
In an instant, he was inside their formation, his weapon a streak of destruction. One strike... an arm twisted unnaturally, bones snapping. Another... a foot swept out, sending a hooded figure sprawling. His movements were fluid, merciless yet controlled. Not a single fatal blow. He was toying with them.
Meanwhile, Ronald faced something far larger.
The statue had transformed, no longer a mere relic of stone but a living, breathing gargoyle. It's skin was now made of an even stronger marble/rock-like material, blue and metal-like. Its form radiated raw power, its massive war axe materializing in its grip, etched with holy inscriptions.
Ronald, however, only grinned.
A crimson mist coiled around him, slithering along his arms, his chest, his very breath. His fingers curled, and with a single motion, the mist solidified into a massive crimson blade.. dark red, pulsating, humming with power.
"Alright, big guy," he muttered, rolling his neck. "Let's dance."
The gargoyle moved first, its massive axe whistling through the air like a guillotine.
BOOM!
Ronald caught it with his blade, the sheer force splitting the stone beneath his feet. Sparks and embers erupted as the two forces clashed, the shockwave rattling the square.
"Not bad," Ronald grunted. "But you're gonna have to do better than that."
He shoved forward, his crimson energy spiking. The force sent the gargoyle stumbling back, cracks forming along its marble surface.
The battle was in full swing.
Richard, now surrounded by the remaining robed figures, smirked as they closed in.
They raised their hands, forming energy shields of brilliant blue light, encasing themselves in defensive barriers. One of them, faster than the others, launched another blazing blue energy sphere directly at his chest.
Richard didn't dodge. He caught it.
The energy crackled in his palm, but he absorbed it effortlessly.
His fingers flexed. The same blue aura that fueled his enemies' attacks now coiled around him, flowing through his veins.
He threw the energy back.
The impact sent three of them flying, their barriers shattering like glass. Before they could recover, Richard was on them, his aura forging twin daggers in his hands.
Then he charged in with incredible speed, moving like a blur. One strike to the shoulder. One to the ribs. Another to the legs.
In seconds, four of them lay groaning on the ground, bones fractured, unable to continue.
Richard tilted his head. "You guys aren't even close to my level."
Ronald, still locked in combat with the gargoyle, heard him and laughed. "Show-off."
The gargoyle roared, its golden eyes burning with rage. It lunged, swinging its war axe in a devastating horizontal arc.
Ronald, rather than dodging, grinned wider.
His crimson aura exploded outward, shifting, warping... morphing into a massive crimson spear.
"Let's see you block this, stonehead."
He hurled the spear straight at the gargoyle's chest, the force behind it enough to shatter concrete.
The crimson spear tore through the air like a comet, leaving a trail of red mist in its wake.
The gargoyle barely had time to react before the spear pierced its chest. Not enough to destroy it, but enough to send it skidding backward, its marble skin cracking on impact.
BOOM!
The sheer force sent shockwaves rippling through the square, shaking the very foundations of St. Peter's Basilica. The once-pristine cobblestones fractured, dust and debris scattering like a storm.
But the gargoyle wasn't done.
It gritted its stone teeth, golden eyes flaring with an unnatural light. With a deep, earth-rumbling growl, it grabbed the spear lodged in its chest and ripped it out.
Ronald's smirk didn't falter. "Tough guy, huh?"
The gargoyle hurled the spear back.
Ronald barely dodged as it whistled past his face, grazing his cheek before embedding itself deep into a nearby pillar. The sheer impact cracked the ancient stone, sending fragments cascading to the ground.
"Alright, that's kinda impressive."
Before he could react, the gargoyle charged, swinging its massive war axe overhead in a downward deathblow.