Unknownfate
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Chapter 173
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 13:26:11 +0000 UTCThe events that happened in Lyon sent ripples throughout the world, and while the horrors of that night were blamed on mutants, those in power, those in charge, they knew the truth.
This wasn’t some mutant attack, this wasn’t some terrorist attack, this, this was an invasion.
And an invasion of the worst possible kind, one of Hell’s forces itself, forces of evil, minions of the devil coming to claim their souls.
Few knew what to make of that revelation; many still struggled to believe in mutants, let alone magic, gods, and demons.
Some groups and individuals were unable to understand, unwilling to see the world.
One such group was the Holy Church. The Christian Church had once held immense power over large parts of the world, and with that power came a responsibility to protect the believers.
And while the Church had lost a lot of its power as the world became more secular. That didn’t mean the Church forgot its ancient duties.
They did this duty in secret, not wanting the faithful to know about the horrors that threatened them.
Such was the birth of Ordo Sancti Longini, the Order of Saint Longinus. It was from this order that the Inquisition of old belonged, and it was this order that protected the faithful and faithless alike from demons.
So, when an army of demons invaded Lyon, this order naturally had to respond.
The Vatican was silent on the public stage. No official statement. No condemnation. No televised mass.
But deep beneath the Apostolic Palace, beneath even the catacombs reserved for saints and popes, the Ordo Sancti Longini stirred.
Candles lit themselves in prayer chambers that hadn’t been opened in decades. Hidden altars were anointed with fresh myrrh and oil. Armor, polished and sanctified, was removed from velvet-lined crates marked only with Latin script and wax seals.
And at the center of it all knelt Sœur Laure. She was still tired from the last long day, her body still hurting, but she didn’t complain. She had been given fresh robes, blessed garments; her entire body had been blessed and cleansed from demonic corruption.
And now, she waited in silence. The attack at Lyon had left her shaken; she was no stranger to demonic creatures, to evil witches and warlocks who made pacts with them, but to see so many demons at once, it left even this young exorcist shaken.
Still, as the only field agent, the only witness from the site itself, she had travelled without rest to report everything she saw, everything she learned.
Slowly, one by one, the many chairs around the room were filled as people arrived, priests, bishops, exorcists, hunters, inquisitors, and more.
None spoke as they found their seats, but they all cast glances down at Laure, a mix of pity and respect in their gazes.
Finally, all seats but three were filled; one, belonging to the Pope himself, was always left empty, as his Holiness himself never concerned himself with the matters of their order. The last seat was also never filled, though few knew to whom it belonged.
The great doors creaked open on iron hinges older than any man present. Every figure in the room rose at once.
Father Angelo stepped forward — tall, broad, and calm in the way only men who had already faced Hell could be. His cassock bore not gold but scorch marks, stitched with holy sigils and edged in protective wards. The silver rosary at his side glinted faintly under the chapel’s candlelight, each bead a bullet.
And at his hip, in a sheath of red velvet and ancient oak, hung Spina Divina — the Divine Thorn — the only weapon in Christendom known to kill demons not just in body, but in soul.
He crossed the threshold and bowed his head.
"Blessings be upon those who endure," he intoned. His voice rolled like distant thunder through the sanctified stone.
“Blessings be upon those who remember,” the room replied in one voice.
Angelo's gaze swept the chamber. When it landed on Sœur Laure, there was a flicker of something rare behind his stern eyes: not pity. Not worry. But trust.
He moved to the last seat, the remaining one, engraved with legends and tales of former preceptors.
When he sat, the others followed.
A moment passed. The hush was sacred.
Then he spoke.
“You’ve all read the report. Some of you have spoken to Sœur Laure yourselves. Some of you have seen the remains of Lyon, or what’s left of it.”
He paused, allowing silence to stretch, to let the weight settle.
“This was not possession. Not some poor child getting cursed by an evil relic. This wasn’t some summoning gone wrong. No, this was a hellrift opened deliberately, an evil scheme, an invention.”
There were murmurs now — a sharp intake of breath, a creak of leather gloves tightening on oak armrests.
“Worse yet,” he continued. “The demons made so much chaos that everyone saw them, the world saw the evil from which we have protected them for centuries.”
Everyone kept their heads bowed, as few had their hands locked in prayer.
“Thankfully, the truth has been buried in lies, so while people still hide in fear, they at least don’t fear the devil yet, but many do know the truth; those who saw, they know.” Another old man said.
“Indeed, the truth is out,” Father Angelo said, nodding toward the center of the room, “because none can deny what happened—what they saw. And we have with us one who saw it all. One who bore witness and returned.”
His eyes turned fully to Sœur Laure.
“Laure of Lyon,” he said, using the old exorcist’s naming custom. “You may speak.”
The silence was total.
Laure stood slowly. Her hands trembled for a moment, then stilled. She drew a deep breath and stepped forward into the ring of light that surrounded the central altar. Though her face was pale, her voice was steady.
“I was stationed at Saint-Martin in Croix-Rousse when the first fires began,” Laure said. “We thought it was a riot. A mutant riot, perhaps, or another act of senseless violence. The sirens were everywhere. Then came the black smoke.”
She swallowed. “I went out to help. I am not a warrior. I am an exorcist. But I was close, and people were dying.”
There were no interruptions. Only listening.
“I reached the Place des Terreaux. That was when I saw them — creatures of sulfur and ash, wearing faces that mocked the human form. Demons. Not possessed. Not hidden. Fully manifest. Dozens. Maybe more.”
A few murmurs rippled again. One priest bowed his head.
“I tried to fight. I did my best, used what equipment I had on hand, but there were too many. I could kill a few, and their bodies burned, smouldered, and turned to ash, but they kept coming. My staff broke, my daggers lost, I was wounded, I should have died.”
Her voice broke slightly, but she steadied it.
“And then… I was saved.”
Angelo’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “By whom?”
“By mutants,” Laure answered, voice firm.
“Mutants?” one asked.
“Mutants were once believed cursed, children of the devil, evil, Yet, we now know better, mutants or human, though much is still unknown.” Father Angelo added. “Please child, we hold no hatred for Mutants, you can continue.”
“There were at least four mutants, or so I think, it was hard to judge, not every mutant is easy to see. There was a strange demon, I mean mutant, he looked like a demon, but he wasn’t, he was a mutant, even claimed to be a devout believer.”
Some in the chamber exchanged glances. A few skeptics shifted in their seats.
“He moved like smoke,” Laure continued. “Vanished and reappeared between attacks. He saved people, bringing them out of danger.”
Angelo leaned forward slightly. “His name?”
“They called him Nightcrawler.”
Soft murmurs again, but no interruptions.
“There were others,” Laure continued. “A pair of twins, I believe. A girl and a boy, young, had the ability to make the demons fight one another, and leave fleeing civilians be.”
There were a few nods around the room, a few murmurs about this possible pair and their abilities, and whether they could be useful or not. Some among them seemed keen on allowing mutants into their ranks, while others disagreed, wanting only faith and skill to be the tools of the Church.
“Enough!” Father Angelo called. “We aren’t here to discuss this matter once again; we should allow Sœur Laure to finish her report. Please, child, continue.”
Laure gave a small nod and drew a breath to steady herself.
“The next is the one who saved me, he didn’t say he was a mutant, but he was strong and fast, much more than a normal person.” She began to describe the desperate situation she was in, trying to fight demons, but losing, until Lancelot saved her.
She described how he killed the demons with ease, sword glowing with energy, and the hum of technology.
“After that, another three people, two were companions of the one calling himself Lancelot, and the other seemed to be a French mutant named Fantomex.” She continued.
She explained everything she had seen and heard, from the one calling herself Mordred, and the one going under the name Arthuria, to the strange talking plane of Fantomex, and everything until Nightcrawler escorted her to get help.
“So this woman who called herself Arthuria claimed credit for ending things? And knew when the demons all later disappeared?” Father Angelo asked.
“Yes, at least the one calling herself Mordred claimed so before Lancelot, and Arthuria did say it was over, the attacks stopped, and Nightcrawler later said all the demons vanished.” Laure confirmed.
The room fell silent once more, but this time it was not reverent — it was wary.
Father Angelo’s expression remained unreadable. Only the slow, measured movement of his gloved hands steepling beneath his chin gave away the weight of his thoughts.
“Thank you, child, you did us all proud. Few are brave enough to stand against the demons of hell, few are skilled enough to survive. You are excused; get some rest.” He finally said, dismissing her so he could instead focus on what to do next.
What followed was a long meeting, a long discussion, and a debate about what had happened and what to do next.
The next morning, the pope spoke out against violence, called for peace, and prayed for those affected by the horrible events that had taken place, and once more affirmed his desire for love and understanding over conflict.
More than that, far less publicly, he allowed the Ordo Sancti Longini to send out a large number of members to France to investigate who and how such an event was opened.
The Church was determined to ensure that whoever was behind this would be punished. As well as ensuring something like this wouldn’t happen again, and at the same time, investigate the ones responsible for ending the situation, those people going under the names of Arthuria and her knights.
