The Duke's challenge echoed across the city block, its voice carrying harmonics that made car windows shatter and street lights flicker. Around it, the corrupted angels spread out in perfect formation, their pewter skin gleaming with veins of molten gold as they took defensive positions.

"Your lord?" Azrael stepped forward, his wings beginning to unfurl behind him in preparation for battle. "I have no lord."

"A defiant stance, but ultimately meaningless." The Duke's armor caught the crimson ...