Gwyndolin was grateful he'd had the foresight to increase his defenses with magic before teleporting into the battlefield. In spite of the fact that his presence was hidden from the mortals by his illusions, several projectiles had impacted his defensive magics. Without hesitation, Gwyndolin teleported elsewhere so he could plan a wiser engagement.
Gwyndolin reappeared on a nearby roof overlooking the battlefield with a squirming child still held in his grasp. He ignored David's protests and turned his attention to the two opposing forces.
The lawbreakers were doing battle in a location reserved for the storage of their strange vehicles—he thinks he had heard it called a 'parking lot'. Gwyndolin thought it a poor name, a place used to store metal vehicles should not be associated with the lovely park he enjoyed spending time in. Especially now that many of those metal vehicles were currently tipped over or on fire.
The two groups were on opposite sides of the parking lot and were attempting to slay their enemies with the projectile weapons these mortals used to launch small metal arrows.
Gwyndolin hummed consideringly as he evaluated these weapons. He hadn't given them much mind when he had first learned about them, he'd assumed they would be ineffective against him without magical enhancements, but he may have been mistaken.
It was difficult to evaluate the strength of an attack through his magical defenses, but not impossible. Given the amount of magic each projectile had consumed from his defenses, it was possible that these weapons might actually bruise his skin!
Oh, to be harmed by a mundane weapon bereft of magic and wielded by a mortal warrior! Truly I am weak of body. Mine eldest brother would have mocked me ceaselessly if such a shameful thing were to transpire.
Thankfully, while Gwyndolin's body was weak compared to other gods, his efforts in compensating with magic had born fruit.
The defensive spell he had derived from Magic Shield offered lesser protection when applied to his body rather than a shield, but would still prove sufficient against these weapons.
Gwyndolin watched as a criminal fired a projectile that exploded with the force of a pyromancer's Fire Orb upon impacting a vehicle one of the mortals was hiding behind.
I suppose caution would prove prudent until I acquire greater knowledge of mine foes' capabilities.
Under most circumstances, Gwyndolin would simply form an illusion to draw the attention of his enemies and slowly kill them from afar, one by one. However, if he wished to assimilate into this world, he would need to follow the customs of its people—customs that compelled him to care for the well-being of criminals.
His usual methods would take too long—he could already see several civilians who required medical attention. Therefore, he decided he would make the rare decision to engage his enemies from a short distance. Their projectile-based weapons would be less effective if they needed to avoid injuring their comrades.
If this were a group of his father's knights, Gwyndolin would never dare confront them closely, but these mortals could do little to harm him with their strength.
So determined, Gwyndolin tasted the air for magic—verifying that there were no nasty surprises hiding amongst his enemies—and drew his bow. There was a reason he had chosen to learn to use a bow instead of relying solely on his sorceries, it would allow him to attack while still devoting focus to his shields.
Gwyndolin decided to teleport amongst the Medusa Syndicate first.
At least, he assumed the mortals wearing uniforms depicting a yellow serpent on a black background belonged to the gang designated as his 'nemesis' by these people's strange culture.
Their warriors seemed more disciplined than the warriors of the Escabedo Cartel, so attacking them first would be wise.
I can see eight warriors donning serpentine heraldry. 'Tis preferable that I subdue these villains as swiftly as possible.
With a plan of action formed, Gwyndolin stopped ignoring David's complaints and prepared to enter combat.
"C'mon, what are you doing? Why are you just standing around? Why aren't you fighting?" David continued his protests, even as Gwyndolin set him down gently on the roof.
Gwyndolin prepared to form an illusion on the opposite side of the parking lot even as he responded to David.
"When a warrior enters battle bereft of strategy, 'tis a result of either foolishness or misfortune. Mine misfortune is already plentiful enough without seeking more. Witness as I subdue these evildoers, David."
In the next moment, an illusion of Gwyndolin in his true form appeared on the battlefield and drew to its full height.
"Halt, evildoers!" said Gwyndolin's illusion, projecting its voice across the parking lot and causing all of the gunmen to cease fighting. "I have proclaimed mineself as a superhero of this city. Thou would be wise to lay down thine weapons and avoid mine wrath."
For reasons Gwyndolin could not discern, the criminals seemed momentarily bewildered, but they quickly recovered from their confusion.
The first to react was one of the Medusa warriors he had tentatively designated as their leader.
"It's a fuckin' Cape! Shoot the bitch!"
Gwyndolin was surprised that all of the warriors forgot their previous animosity and directed their attacks toward his illusion, superheroes must truly be feared by criminals. Though he was unsure why they were talking about capes—his father had never allowed him to wear one.
The moment his enemies attacked his illusion, Gwyndolin teleported amongst the Medusa Syndicate and backhanded the warrior who had insulted him—shattering his jaw.
Three of his serpents flew towards the throats of mortals who were beginning to turn their weapons towards him as he drew his bow and took aim towards a fourth.
Two of his snakes managed to inject their paralytic venom into the necks of the nearby warriors. The third was quick enough to dodge but failed to do so a second time after Gwyndolin threw him onto the ground with a fourth serpent.
His arrow flew true, its magic allowing it to shatter the mortal's weapon and embed itself into his palm, pinning him to a metal vehicle. Gwyndolin ignored the mortal's screams as he simultaneously shot two arrows into the criminal's heels.
Five enemies vanquished. Three remain.
The remaining Medusa warriors seemed rightfully intimidated by his power, but that didn't stop them from attacking him. Two of them attacked Gwyndolin uselessly with their projectile weapons even as small pieces of metal flattened against his shield, while the third threw something at him by hand.
Gwyndolin was not certain what the small metal ball was, but if his enemies wanted it near him, then Gwyndolin wanted it away. In a single movement, Gwyndolin fired an arrow—ruining both the weapon and hand of another criminal—and wrapped a serpent around a random piece of scrap before throwing it into the incoming item.
The thing bounced away to an unoccupied part of the battlefield and released an explosion less impressive than the exploding projectile he had seen earlier. Gwyndolin was a bit annoyed at the number of unknown weapons he was being forced to confront—it would be much easier to assess risks if these mortals would just use swords!
From there, it was a simple affair to disable the remaining Medusa warriors with his arrows, It seems their weapons were incapable of piercing his shield or significantly eroding his focus, so he simply stood still and dispatched them with his arrows.
Gwyndolin turned his attention to the other group of warriors on the battlefield—he could see many of the Escabedo warriors had been killed; only three of them remained.
They had been attacking him as well, but they stopped and flinched when Gwyndolin turned his gaze towards them.
"Wilt thou show greater wisdom than thine enemies and surrender?"
For a moment, two of the criminals looked unsurely between one another, until the third lifted the weapon that fired explosive projectiles and pointed it at Gwyndolin.
"Eat shit, Bitch!"
Gwyndolin was fairly confident the weapon would not be able to do him any great harm, but it was in his nature to be cautious.
With a reaction speed beyond what a normal human could reproduce, Gwyndolin placed a hand under a nearby vehicle and flipped it into the weapon's line of fire.
Shrapnel splashed across Gwyndolin's shields as the vehicle was destroyed in a fiery explosion and fell down in front of him. He peaked his serpents around the debris so he could regain sight of his enemies.
After witnessing his feat of supernatural strength, two of the mortals seemed terrified ready to flee while the third was attempting to replenish his weapon.
Gwyndolin could possibly teleport to their location and subdue them, but his teleportation required a few seconds to prepare. Within that time the explosive weapon may be ready for use, so he decided on another course of action.
Summoning his catalyst, Gwyndolin prepared to cast a spell of his personal creation—one which could ignore obstacles to strike its target.
After a moment, the spell was ready.
As the enemy warrior finished readying the explosive weapon and pointed it toward Gwyndolin, he released the spell.
Emitted from the end of Gwyndolin's catalyst was a bright blue beam of light that ignored that ruined vehicle in front of him like a ghost moving through walls. Gwyndolin's Soul Sphere obliterated the explosive weapon, turning it into a pile of useless scrap.
The Escabedo warrior spent several staring at his hands as if he couldn't believe what just happened when Gwyndolin's second spell was completed.
His two allies who had foolishly stood by his side found themselves grasping at their necks as serpents plunged fangs into their throats.
Gwyndolin used his right hand to grab the last remaining warrior by the neck and lift him off the ground, careful not to break the mortal's fragile bones.
He made certain the criminal would be able to get a good look at his paralyzed comrades as he ascended to his full height. Intimidation was not something Gwyndolin had often required, but he understood the importance of a reputation.
"Thine decisions were poorly made," Gwyndolin said, forcing the mortal to look into the sun-shaped crown covering his eyes. His serpents began entwining the mortal and he could smell the distinct smell of urine as the criminal flailed uselessly against his grasp. "Tell thine allies of mine proclamation. I declare mineself a superhero of this city, and thine transgressions shalt not go unpunished."
With his message delivered, Gwyndolin injected him with his venom and dropped him onto the ground. He had been tempted to deal blows to strangle him until he was unconscious, but he didn't want to harm the mortal's memory.
Now that all of his enemies had been dispatched and the quiet of the battlefield was interrupted only by pained moans, Gwyndolin could hear the sound of David cheering loudly from the roof.
He didn't rejoin the child immediately, instead, he decided to offer his aid to the injured mortal civilians.
Unfortunately, he did not have great talent in Miracles due to his general lack of faith. The closest thing he had to faith was his faith in his father's plan, but that had always been tainted by what he could now admit was the shadow of resentment he felt towards his family.
Even that lackluster faith had grown weaker and weaker as the Age of Fire gradually became more difficult to sustain.
Many had managed to cast Miracles through the faith they held in themselves, but Gwyndolin had precious little of that recently.
A few of the civilians had perished, killed by stray projectiles or due to a loss of blood, but many more still lived. Predictably, they seemed scared of his true form, but many of them relaxed when he announced himself as a superhero and offered assistance.
Truly, the people of this seemed to have great faith in their superheroes, it was… strange to receive such trust so easily.
Gwyndolin did what he could, lifting debris and wrapping wounds with the aid of some kind bystanders. They informed him the authorities would soon arrive moments after he heard a strange sound in the distance and that it would be for the best if left before they arrived.
If David was correct that the city's guardsmen had been suborned by criminal elements, then he agreed that it would be for the best if he did not meet them. At least, not until he acquired a better understanding of the situation.
As he said his goodbyes and began preparing to teleport to the roof from which David was continuing to make gestures at him, one of the civilians who had been assisting him asked a question.
"Wait, Ma'am. What should we call you?"
This question caused Gwyndolin to feel an unexpected amount of hesitance. What should the mortals call him? His first instinct was to announce his usual title of The Darksun, but that no longer fell right.
He had failed his sister, his city, and his covenant.
Did still deserve such a title? Did he even want it?
Gwyndolin did not know the answer to these questions, and as the silence grew he panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.
"Despite mine appearance, I am male."
The moment Gwyndolin was done speaking, he teleported away.