Marvel : I'm in Westview Town-Chapter 141 : The Battle

"It's true, we tried our best today, but the result was not satisfactory."

The old patriarch sighed quietly, and the helplessness in his eyes struck a chord with everyone present. Even gods could feel regret.

"But didn't you also successfully resist them?"

Finn stepped forward, his voice steady but curious.

Angels like them not only possessed advanced technology, but wielded immensely powerful celestial magic. Finn thought dealing with invading demons shouldn't be impossible for them.

"But you all saw it just now—even though we claimed victory in the end, the casualties were devastating. Without the support of those ancient magic spells, resistance would have been impossible."

Even divine beings weren't invincible. Sometimes, even gods stared helplessly at the chaos beyond their control.

At that moment—

BOOM!

Another thunderous explosion echoed from outside the ruined city.

Simultaneously, a battered Angel crash-landed before them, skidding across the floor and dropping to one knee. His feathers were scorched and his armor cracked.

"Old Patriarch! The situation is dire—the demons are charging again!"

As his words rang out, every Angel present—except for Finn and his allies—grimaced. Their expressions turned grim, haunted by exhaustion. They had just come through one catastrophic battle. Even divine endurance had its limits.

But there was no choice. For the future of this land, they would die fighting if they had to.

"It's better if we go," Stephen Strange said suddenly, his voice calm but unwavering. "After all, we've been pulled into this mess. We may as well see it through."

"How could I possibly burden you with that?" the old patriarch replied slowly. "Let us handle it. Some of us have already passed the century mark—it won't matter if we fall. As long as the young ones behind us survive and grow... it will be a new beginning."

He rose from his seat slowly, strength surging in his aged frame. There was determination now—unyielding resolve.

He believed they could repel the next wave of demons. And if they succeeded, they'd buy the next generation time. That was all he wanted now—not glory, not survival, just enough time for the children of the skies to grow their wings.

"Don't say that," Finn said, stepping up beside Strange. "Stephen's right. This isn't just your burden—it concerns us too. If these demons aren't dealt with, they might break through into our universe. And the consequences of that... would be catastrophic."

His voice didn't waver. His stance radiated purpose.

Even though they didn't have a responsibility to interfere, they couldn't sit back and let this war spill into the main reality. That kind of destruction would scar everything.

"You..."

The old patriarch's lips trembled. He was moved—not by their power, but by their willingness to stand with them.

Even though they weren't Angels, even though they didn't owe this world anything, they chose to stay.

"Brice, go with them."

He turned toward the towering Angel warrior who had earlier questioned their presence. His armor gleamed with a dull luster, and the white of his wings was stained with blood and ash.

Kindness was sacred to the Angelic order. Turning away allies, no matter how strong, would make them no better than the monsters they fought. If they were to survive, unity was their only chance.

"Understood, Old Patriarch," Brice said with a solemn nod. His voice was heavy, but respectful. Orders were orders—and this one made sense.

More people meant more power. And right now, that power was the only thing keeping them alive.

"Then let's go," Finn said.

He didn't wait for ceremony. He stepped out, and the rest of the group followed. Their expressions were a mix of fire and steel—they weren't walking into just another fight.

This was war.

They emerged from the underground ruins into the open battlefield.

What they saw turned even hardened warriors still.

A mass of demons had gathered—towering behemoths, monstrous and vile. Not a single one looked weak or thin. These were apex predators of a corrupted dimension.

It was clear that this wave was stronger than the last. Much stronger.

"Brice, what are you still fighting for? Surrender, and maybe I'll let a few of you Angels live—if I'm in a good mood."

The voice was guttural, but the words came in perfect human English. A demon of immense size stood at the front of the horde. His body was a twisted mess of molten flesh and spiked armor. He wielded a flaming trident, and smoke billowed from his mouth with every breath.

"That's him?" the Scarlet Witch asked coldly, her eyes narrowing as chaos magic flared at her fingertips.

"Yes," Brice replied, voice grim. "That's the Demon King. Malric the Void-Touched. He is immensely powerful. Be careful."

He wasn't doubting their strength. But these demons were born from darkness incarnate. Even the most powerful of Angels had fallen to them. Humans, even enhanced ones, would be challenged beyond imagination.

"Judging from your tone, it sounds like you're underestimating us?"

Wanda turned her head and cast a sidelong glance at Brice. Her expression was unreadable.

Brice met her eyes but didn't respond. He knew better than to offend someone like her.

Before any more could be said, the battlefield erupted.

BOOM!!!

A world-shaking explosion rippled outward.

Hurricane-force winds surged from the point of impact. The very air screamed.

Snow was blasted skyward, turning to steam in an instant. What was once a pristine field of white was now scorched black as obsidian.

The collision of divine and demonic forces shattered everything.

Trees twisted violently, roots screaming from the earth as entire groves were ripped skyward and hurled like spears into the maelstrom above.

Chunks of land tore free, propelled into the sky by pure force—blocking out the sun. The light faded. The storm raged.

The armies clashed.

Steel and magic, flesh and fire, light and shadow—all converged in an unrelenting chaos.

The demons, unchained and bloodthirsty, bellowed in rage as they stormed forward. Their dark bodies tore through the air like meteors, leaving trails of corruption in their wake.

The very sky darkened under their assault.

The ground buckled and cracked beneath them. Entire roads collapsed. The once-proud city was being reduced to rubble.

Buildings twisted and shattered. Towers collapsed. Arcane wards sputtered and failed as energy waves pulsed in all directions, distorting reality.

Through the haze of destruction—

Finn stood tall.

In his hand, he held the Sword of Vishanti—a relic once granted to the Sorcerer Supreme by the cosmic entity Hoggoth himself.

The blade crackled with celestial energy, channeling the combined force of the Vishanti. It hummed with divine resonance—powerful enough to rend dimensions.

With a cry, he swung.

The arc of his slash carved through the battlefield like a blade through silk.

Several demons were instantly sliced in half, their roars cut short as blood and entrails splattered across the battlefield. The air reeked of sulfur and rot. Steam hissed from their wounds as their corrupted flesh melted in the blade's light.

Finn didn't stop.

He charged forward, fearless, cleaving a path through the enemy ranks.

Around him, his allies unleashed their fury. Wanda's chaos magic tore demons apart molecule by molecule. Peter darted through the air, webbing the eyes of behemoths before blasting them with repulsor-augmented grenades. Stephen invoked incantations from the Book of Vishanti, creating shields and weapons of pure light.

And Brice...

Brice was a storm.

He took to the skies, his wings aflame with celestial fire. His spear moved like lightning, each strike dropping a demon from the sky.

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